Sex and Sacrament

Am I a Christian? Not by a long shot. I am clergy of an entirely different stripe, darlings. Far from the hallowed institutions of mainstream religion, my faith is a shadowy fertility cult of the highest order. One that marks and celebrates every turning point in our cycle, from seed and root, to bud and stem, to leaf and flower and fruit. We invoke our gods by Life and Love. Every password, every sign of recognition, every welcome for us is as intimate as a kiss.

We are the ones for whom the main Sacrament (read: the only Sacrament) is fucking. That central, primal urge that is both Beginning and End: life and death and rebirth that merges in a single moment of orgasm.  It is a holy act; one that both initiates and fulfills the meaning of what it means to be fully human. Our Goddess is the Mother of all who pours her love upon the Earth. Our God is to be found at the bottom of every breath, and whose antlered visage can set both the head aflame with inspiration and the loins aflame with arousal.

We seek and find our Holy Communion with our Gods in the act of sex. Every time we fuck our lovers, they become for us the divine representation of God or Goddess. In the act of love we become the Divine pair, spinning in an eternal ecstatic dance. Tender or rough, refined or raw, bound or free, we find we achieve a certain level of spiritual perfection in satisfying ourselves and our partners as well as we can, and taking full enjoyment of the gifts given to us in this lifetime.
Every act of love and pleasure are My rituals. Confirm it. Embrace it. Set yourselves free.

-Inanna’s Whore

Taken lovingly from The Church of Incarnate Pleasure

Chapter 1: Thinker.

I.

The young girl was an athlete and a scholar. Her father was a soldier, and tamed the large warbirds that dominated the sky during times of battle. The birds were used as transport in peacetime, and so although the guns were silent, she often went days without seeing her dad. Although she’d felt pressure to join her father in his occupation when she grew up, she had no issue telling him she didn’t think it was for her. She didn’t want to fly, and besides, she was allergic.

Her mother, by contrast, encouraged her daughter to find her own path. She was intelligent and hardworking, and strove to raise her daughter as an independent and well-educated woman. With her help, the girl grew up knowing school as a joy instead of a chore.

The fifteen-year-old was a bit too bookish – and taller than most of the boys by at least three inches, which put a serious damper on her social life. She always managed to have a date for the few formal functions held by her religious school, but she wasn’t exactly popular. She was, at the moment, reclining on a bench under a tree in the park, engrossed in a book about folk magic and superstitions. She wondered idly about the beginnings of such belief. “Could they be rooted in something true? Why would people still do these things if they didn’t, somehow, work?”

A small silver thread floated down on the breeze and landed on her right wrist. She held her arm up into the late afternoon sun slanting through the tree’s branches. It shone and sparkled a bit as she shook her hand, but the thread clung and loosely encircled her wrist. As she watched it, it seemed to appear, vanish, and then appear again. She carefully slipped the silver thread from her wrist and put gently into her pocket.

She gazed into the distance, lost in thought. The ancient oak trees seemed to commiserate with each other in rustles and whispers as the sun dipped behind the crown of leaves.

“Where’s Jehovah?” the grey-eyed woman asked, amused. She was peering into the clear pool of water set in the middle of the chamber. The water was completely still, but the images of the young girl flickered and moved in the soft light of late afternoon. “He’s taking his eye off the ball with this one.”

From one of the deep-cushioned chairs on the far side of the room, a veiled woman answered, “She’ll come to us eventually, Glaukopis. You know she will.” You could hear the smile in her voice, even though the veil obscured her face. “The die, as they say, has been cast.”

“You know as well as I do that nobody’s fate is written in stone, Sister, even if we do like to say it is so. Isn’t that right, Hound?” She walked over and reached down and affectionately scratched the ear of the big, black dog seated at the woman’s feet. It raised its massive head and licked her hand in appreciation.

“Just look at her - already interested in the things beyond the worlds. The path is often twisted, but it will get here.” Propolos noticed her sister’s furrowed brow and motioned to Hebe to bring another silver cup. “Don’t fret. Sometimes you think too much. Come, sit with me and have some wine.”

Where's my lighter?

I'm totally doing this for Samhain.

Queimada

Do you think it would be too dangerous to have a pot of flaming alcohol? Maybe I could do it in the garage. Or the driveway. Or someone else's house.

Still! Intriguing.

Superhero Mashup

VikingRocknRollSpiderman!

Please kindly ignore the mess and the state of the hardwood floor and instead admire the creativity of my Bono/Eric the Red/Peter Parker spawn.

Huh...That Went Well.

I finally did it. I quit the soul-sucking sales job in order to take a soul-sucking corporate job. The uncertainty of payment, the knocking on doors and the mandatory sales calls finally got to me. As a wise woman said to me (last night, in fact): Do I really want my livelihood and success to be based upon those characteristics and personality traits that are my weakest? It seems so simple when put that way. I reckon most good advice is.

I've been hired back at my old company and so far, it's been pretty okay. I was offered a promotion and a raise, so I went back. It's comfortable, familiar, I'm good at it, I get my 4 weeks of vacation back, and if they lay me off again, I'll get another 15 weeks of severance!

I know, I'm so ambitious it kills me.

This weekend, our coven, N., held Lunasa with our sister coven, S.R. It's been lovely having both groups together, and I'm exceedingly glad that we have finally come to the point where we're comfortable doing Sabbats together. We had too much food (as usual), plenty to drink, and a really lovely, if not original, ritual by one of the S.R. members held at his house. My son came with us and had a blast because this covener was also a huge Star Wars fan and let my boy wear the Stormtrooper helmet (it made noise!) and play with all of his nerf guns. Did you know they make a Nerf machine gun? Me neither.

Today's Parenting Question brought to you by Raised by Jackals: disturbing, or normal? My son, for some reason, really loves the villains. I mean, he wanted to be Venom (the black, deranged Spiderman) for Halloween last year, he pretends to be the Sandman and the Green Goblin, and the only game he plays on his DS is the Transformers one where he plays a Decepticon. And now - Stormtroopers? Why the bad guys, shorty?


And finally: Happy Lammas to everyone. This is the first of three harvest festivals (the other two being Mabon in September and Samhain in October). Right on time, I saw the first wheat fields cut this week. Lammas is an interesting holiday in that it is a time of burgeoning plenty - corn is high, wheat is ripe, the summer fruits are succulent - but it's the beginning of the end of summer and the slow descent into the dark. We think of the archetypal sacrificial god who dies so that others may continue to live (Dumuzi, Osiris, Jesus, among others) and appreciate the great gift he offers us. May you never hunger!

Self-Absorbed Prattle, aka, My Life as a Financial Advisor.

She walked up to the blue house, business card in hand. She rang the bell, and turned slightly away from the door as she had been taught to do. She saw a young and jaunty couple, pushing strollers, walking up the street. As they drew level with the blue house, they turned around, walked down the other side of the street away from her.

A few minutes later, working her way down the other side of the shady avenue (why was there nobody home this afternoon? she thought idly), she passed the blue house again. There, in the driveway, playing with a couple of tow-headed toddlers, was the jaunty couple. She felt deflated, and all of her faux-cheerfulness evaporated. They had seen her standing on the front porch of their house and had walked away rather than talk to her. Now, they pretended they didn't see her. She wondered if pretending not to see her was to save her from embarrassment or to save themselves from it. I'm not an evangelist, she wanted to yell, I'm just a goddamn financial advisor. You don't have to run away from me.

She drove home slowly, circling around the streets surrounding her house. She didn't want to get home too soon. Finally, she pulled up behind the local high school and began to cry - a little, at first, and then more when she remembered that school was out for the summer and there was little chance of being discovered by unsympathetic 16-year-olds.

She sat in the car, dabbed at her eyes with a leftover coffee-shop napkin, and waited until the red in her eyes was gone before she drove home.

I Must Be Crazy.

Remember waaay back in May of '07 when I was all stressed out about a Finance exam? Well, lest you think I've learned anything from that little episode, I've now been hired as a Financial Advisor for a global investment services company. I've been grinding away studying for my Series 7 exam, and I'm having flashbacks to grad school.

I hope this will be worth it. I just couldn't stay at the Airline...being laid off twice in - what, seven years? - is all I could take. It was definitely time to look for a new industry.

And since I have a...er...MBA in Finance, I thought I'd try it out. So far everyone's pretty supportive, family, friends, and even my new firm. But I'm stressed and tired from studying nonstop for four weeks.

More to come.

Happy Happy!

Beltane is almost upon us again! An excuse for us neglectful bloggers to start fresh. It's actually starting to feel moderately springy here in the Midwest, and if you can ignore fuel prices, long commutes, the crash of the housing market, and the tenuous grip on solvency that the Airline has got, it's a pretty good day!

I'm setting up a new Wicca 101 class with my friend E. We're the public faces of our respective covens, and we've been inundated with requests from seekers who find our listing on The Witches' Voice. Since there's really nothing in this area for newbies, we decided to put our witchy heads together and create a class. E. knows the owner of a local New Age/Metaphysical shop, and they've very generously offered to let us use their classroom space.

We're tremendously excited and also quite nervous, since this is the first real classes we'll have taught. We've got an absolute metric ton of information we want to cover but we don't want to overwhelm the students.

My personal view of Wicca is a little more traditional than E's (who is much, much more eclectic than I). He's also tremendously crafty and has mad skills when it comes to blending oils, incenses, sewing, weaving, and creating ritual robes from twigs and bits of fluff. I will depend on him to keep everyone's attention while I am droning on about Proto-Indo-European religion and Gerald Gardner.

I met a lovely Alexandrian High Priestess after we posted the class announcement, and she has graciously agreed to take a look at the class outlines and offer feedback. I met with her once for coffee and spent three hours discussing teaching approaches, British Traditional Wicca, the Chicago pagan community, and people we (mutually) knew. When I was living in CO, I hooked up with an Alexandrian HPs but had to drop out of the (fairly intense) training due to my work schedule. I've not lost interest in that particular path, so it was fun to meet another Alexandrian, especially since the BTW community here is so underground as to be practically invisible (yes, unless you know where to look, I can hear my former HP saying).

Anyway, I tried not to flatter her too much and bug her to take me as a student. Well, I did, a little. I couldn't help it. This is a path that I've always wanted to get back onto, and I promised myself that if I got another opportunity, I would not pass it up. I hope it works out.

Now go light a candle and get all Barry White on someone. It's mandatory for Beltane.

Showing My Age/Watching Too Much "Noggin"

Okay, I totally just googled the cast of "Oswald" and found out that the voice of the penguin, Henry, is Squiggy from "Laverne and Shirley". I knew it.

Hello, Patient People.

It's been a long, long time, hasn't it? Although much has been happening (or maybe because much has been happening), I haven't had too much time to put pen to paper lately.

My husband's father passed away at the end of May.

He had been struggling with ALS (that's Lou Gehrig's Disease) for a little over a year. Before he died, he was unable to speak and was communicating via a little yellow notepad upon which he would write things like, "Is the hospice person coming today?" and "Wine" (yes, wine. That's a whole other story). He couldn't go anywhere without the assistance of a walker, and during the last weeks, he couldn't even manage that. The first day that his wife, my mother-in-law, could convince him to use the wheelchair was the day that he died in it. At the end, he could only eat a few things. His throat muscles stopped working, so he would suddenly start violently choking and gasping for breath even when he wasn't eating. He was a man who had survived prostate cancer. He had been a long-distance runner and a biker. He was a fisherman. He owned his own business that he'd bought from his father in the late 60s. And he loved a party.

Back before he was diagnosed, we all noticed some small things, like his slurred speech and his occasionally falling down for no apparent reason. Since he had been known to enjoy a drink or two on a regular basis, we kind of chalked it up to an increased alcohol intake. Concerning, but not immediately dangerous. So everyone was kind of annoyed with him and worried that he seemed to be getting so drunk so often. Over time, though, as we paid closer attention, we realized that the slurred speech was there even when he hadn't had anything to drink; and that he was falling down in the middle of the day at work. His fingers started to feel tingly, and he was short of breath. He and my mother-in-law went to several doctors and finally drove up to the Mayo Clinic and parked there until they could see a specialist. They diagnosed him with ALS, which is a degenerative neural disease with no cure.

That was more than a year ago; and up until the day he passed, he was going to work for at least a few hours a day (he was a local business owner). He came home, sat down in the wheelchair so they could move him into the den/bedroom, and died before he could get to his brown leather easy chair.

I have mixed feelings. I'm struggling with some guilt, because I'm still angry with him over a broken promise that he made to me about 2 1/2 years ago. But, he also once called my husband's ex-wife a shithead, so that was pretty okay in my book.

We're all trying to get back to normal. Maybe this transition is easier for us because for a long time, he was kind of there-but-not-there. He couldn't really participate in any of the family stuff going on around him. "You treat me like I'm already dead!" he once wrote to my mother-in-law.

The wake was attended by a few hundred people, and it was exhausting for everyone - my mother-in-law, my husband, and his brother and sister. But it was kind of cool to see how many people came out to say goodbye.

The Grind

Been studying for weeks for a two-hour Finance exam I've got on Saturday. It's my last class, and it's still up in the air whether or not I'll pass it. I've struggled with the homework assignments, and so I have to do well this week. I'm getting most of it, but I worry about my ability to pull it all together in order to answer the questions intelligently.

Too...stressed...out.
If I never calculate another Eurodollar swap in my lifetime, it will be too soon.

They Shouldn't Let Us Sit Together.

From: Don
Sent: May 07, 2007 10:34 AM
To: GRP-ALL
Subject: RE: ******Practical Problem Solving Training******

All,

Pending further details the below outlined classes are canceled. Apologize for any inconvenience this exercise may have caused.

There will be a class that is scheduled for next week, more to come.

Thanks,

Don
-------------------------------------
From: M.
Sent: Monday, May 07, 2007 10:38 AM
To: Don
Subject: RE: ******Practical Problem Solving Training******

HAHAHA…what happened???

M

-------------------------------------
From: Don
Sent: Monday, May 07, 2007 10:47 AM
To: M.
Subject: RE: ******Practical Problem Solving Training******

For whatever reason, they are not having 4 classes. Just one on Monday the 14th, and they are only having 5 people from [our department] attend.

Who knows!!!!!

Don

-------------------------------------------------
From: M.
Sent: Monday, May 07, 2007 10:49 AM
To: Don
Subject: RE: ******Practical Problem Solving Training******

Who are the five people? I want to get their names, in case I ever have a problem that needs solving.

M.
-----------------------------------------------

From: Mike
Sent: Monday, May 07, 2007 10:50 AM
To: Don
Cc: M.
Subject: RE: ******Practical Problem Solving Training******

Don –

While we wait for these classes to be rescheduled, should we:

1) ignore all our problems, or

2) continue to attempt to solve them in the old untrained, impractical manner?

Please advise.

– Mike

Beltane!

Today is Beltane, the traditional mid-point of Spring. It's sunny and 80 here! Just a perfect day.


The Pagan year is divided into 8 sections: the quarters and the cross-quarters. The quarters represent the equinoxes and solstices and the cross-quarters designate roughly the mid-point between them. Generally, the cross-quarters are considered to be the "high" holidays, as they're meant to represent the fullest part of the season - Beltane for spring, Lughnassadh for the summer, Samhain for the fall, and Imbolc for the winter.


Beltane is also arguably the, ah, friskiest of the Pagan holidays. It's finally warm enough to peel off those coats and sweaters, and come outside squinting into the sunlight after a long winter. It's the first time in a while that we can go running around without worrying about frostbite on our more delicate areas. Things are becoming alive. You can't help but feel joyful at the sight of the sun beaming through all the tiny leaves that decorate the maple tree like a pale, bright green halo. Beltane is a celebration of the simple act of creating life. Of fire and warmth. Of survival and procreation. Of life-affirming and (oh, I'll just say it) very raunchy sex.


The Pre-Christian Celts knew this about the liveliness that Spring begets; one of the vestiges of Pagan faith that survives today is the Maypole. A tall pole is erected (!!) in the middle of the town, with ribbons attached at the top. Each dancer holds the loose end of one of the ribbons, and a large wreath is set over the top of the pole. As the dancers weave in and out and plait the ribbons down the pole, the wreath moves slowly down upon it until it rests on the ground. To wit:

(I'm sure I don't need to spell out the imagery for you, do I?)

Now go find someone to love. Happy Beltane!

Actual Words I've Actually Heard at Work

What with all the corporate-speak and the buzzwords and the general business blather I'm forced to listen to every day here in the cubicle farm, it's both scary and a little refreshing to be able to present to you the List of Corporate Non-Words that Sound Really Good. This is a list that hangs in my cubicle, and I add to it every time I hear someone utter a word that isn't really a word (or, might possibly be a word but could easily be replaced with a simpler one).

I started out by only including words that I received in written correspondence, but I recently changed my rules to include spoken conversations. I subtract a point if I only overhear it, but I give bonus points if I hear a word being used by a VP or above.

Customizable
Operationalize
Incent
Symbologies
Plateaud
Impactful
Irregardless
Messenging
Dimensionalization
Furtherment
Verted
Solutionize

My cubicle-mate/coworker thinks I should include "sortation", but I haven't yet. ("What is that? Is it a system you use to sortate things??")

Fashion at Work

I know I complained about those gaucho pants before, but I saw something today that almost made me laugh out loud. You know those Italian loafer shoes that all the cool boys are wearing these days?





Besides the alligator detailing and the two-tone brown with the buckle, look at how pointy that toe is! Practically a weapon. It makes me think of those poulaines that you always see in those 15th-century paintings:




I don't know why these are fashionable. Come on, guys, you look like you have clown feet.


Not sexy.


These are possibly only to be outdone by that old middle manager standby, the tasseled loafer:





Bleargh. If I were single, this? Would be a dealbreaker.

Eyeeesh.

Spinnaker Tower, Portsmouth, UK: The Glass Floor

This picture makes my feet tingle. Vertigo, anyone?

That confirms it. I will never, never, never, be able to bungee-jump.

It's About Time

VA Approves Pentagram as Acceptable on Veterans' Headstones

Hooray!

Also: Here's hoping we never have to use it again on a headstone.

Love plus Infinity

My dad and my son at the National Zoo, 2007

Advice

Love the earth and the sun and the animals,

despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks,

stand up for the stupid and crazy,

devote your income and labor to others,

hate tyrants, argue not concerning God,

have patience and indulgence toward the people,

take off your hat to nothing known or unknown,

or to any number of men,

go freely with powerful uneducated persons,

and with the young, and the mothers or families,

re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book,

and dismiss whatever insults your own soul;

and your very flesh shall be a great poem.

Walt Whitman

Finally.

Hey, I just moved over from Yahoo. I feel like I just graduated from a tricycle to a what? Schwinn? Anyway, there you have it. I graduated from blogging nursery school. :)