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In times of old, The Furies protected Mother Right. If a mother (or any woman) was harmed, The Furies swooped down and took their vengeance. They were one of the last vestiges of a world that existed before the patriarchy. When we feel righteous anger, it is The Furies who are calling out to us to make what is wrong right again.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Life in the Slow Lane
Well, we got socked with an ice storm last night. We knew it was coming and we were all hoping it wouldn't be too bad. This is one reason why Mario and I go to Arizona in January. These ice storms are miserable. The roads are too dangerous to walk or drive on, and we often lose electricity. Not fun. Fortunately this time the lights (and heat) stayed on. So exciting!
I had two appointments in town today, so I headed off for Portland as soon as they opened up the expressway. (Yes, they closed it because of ice.) Just as I was leaving town, I got a phone call from my agent. I pulled off to the side of the road and answered it. Not many people have my cell phone number, so if I get a call, I figure I will answer it.
It wasn't good news. I can't tell you all the details because my agent would rather I didn't. The publishing world is a small world and you don't want to offend anyone. I will say I was so angry and upset (not with him) that I told him I couldn't talk because I was too upset and I was just going to start crying.
So even though I won't tell you the details imagine a year's salary going away. You thought you'd have this salary, and then suddenly it is gone. You did the work, but you don't get paid. It's nobody's fault; no one is doing anything evil or wrong or even inconsiderate. It's just the way it is.
Imagine that this has happened to you three times all together. Imagine in addition to losing a year's salary that another of your books is going to be orphaned once again. Imagine that nearly every single book you've ever actually gotten published has gotten orphaned one way or another: an editor leaves to take a job somewhere else (twice) or an editor disappears (twice) or an editor is gone for an extended period of time which just happens to be the crucial time for your novel.
I don't want to hear that I'm doing what I love so I should stop complaining. I will complain. I will vent. And then I will move on. I believe it is good and fine to be able to make a living doing something you love. Making a living is an important thing. It's how we pay for groceries and our rent and the like.
I will also say this: If you want to be in control, don't ever become a writer who wants to be published. Ah hell, I just tried to think of jobs and careers where you are in control, and I couldn't. We are never in control.
I'm hearing Sister Bea Wilder Mermaid whisper in my ear, "Things change. Get over it."
(Mario just said, "Oh sure, she lost the Old Sea, but I bet she never had a book deal fall through." He makes me laugh.)
I drove to Portland after I told my agent I couldn't talk. But I couldn't cry because I was driving, and I didn't want to crash and burn. That would have been such a buzzkill on top of everything else.
When I got to the house of my craniosacral therapist, she told me I needed to cry about it. I said, "With all that's going on in the world, I can't cry about this." She said, "That's a rationalization. It's still something that happened to you." I said, "Yeah. It's like losing a year's pay." Later I said, "And these books feel like kids in a way. It's my duty to get them out into the world. If I don't, then I've failed."
Okay. I've vented. The Old Mermaids will lead me in other directions. They wouldn't say, "It'll be all right. But they would say, "It'll be, it'll be, it'll be."
Blessed sea!
By the way, I still love my agent (always; he's my sweetie), my editor, and my publisher. None of them read my blogs, so I'm not kissing up. Just the facts, mahn.
And if you've figured out what the hell I'm talking about here, you are a better woman than I. Mario is making me sushi, and we'll watch a stupid movie together after. Ain't life grand?
May You Kvetch in Beauty!
P.S. This isn't about COTOM, by the way. It's another project. 2 comments
I had two appointments in town today, so I headed off for Portland as soon as they opened up the expressway. (Yes, they closed it because of ice.) Just as I was leaving town, I got a phone call from my agent. I pulled off to the side of the road and answered it. Not many people have my cell phone number, so if I get a call, I figure I will answer it.
It wasn't good news. I can't tell you all the details because my agent would rather I didn't. The publishing world is a small world and you don't want to offend anyone. I will say I was so angry and upset (not with him) that I told him I couldn't talk because I was too upset and I was just going to start crying.
So even though I won't tell you the details imagine a year's salary going away. You thought you'd have this salary, and then suddenly it is gone. You did the work, but you don't get paid. It's nobody's fault; no one is doing anything evil or wrong or even inconsiderate. It's just the way it is.
Imagine that this has happened to you three times all together. Imagine in addition to losing a year's salary that another of your books is going to be orphaned once again. Imagine that nearly every single book you've ever actually gotten published has gotten orphaned one way or another: an editor leaves to take a job somewhere else (twice) or an editor disappears (twice) or an editor is gone for an extended period of time which just happens to be the crucial time for your novel.
I don't want to hear that I'm doing what I love so I should stop complaining. I will complain. I will vent. And then I will move on. I believe it is good and fine to be able to make a living doing something you love. Making a living is an important thing. It's how we pay for groceries and our rent and the like.
I will also say this: If you want to be in control, don't ever become a writer who wants to be published. Ah hell, I just tried to think of jobs and careers where you are in control, and I couldn't. We are never in control.
I'm hearing Sister Bea Wilder Mermaid whisper in my ear, "Things change. Get over it."
(Mario just said, "Oh sure, she lost the Old Sea, but I bet she never had a book deal fall through." He makes me laugh.)
I drove to Portland after I told my agent I couldn't talk. But I couldn't cry because I was driving, and I didn't want to crash and burn. That would have been such a buzzkill on top of everything else.
When I got to the house of my craniosacral therapist, she told me I needed to cry about it. I said, "With all that's going on in the world, I can't cry about this." She said, "That's a rationalization. It's still something that happened to you." I said, "Yeah. It's like losing a year's pay." Later I said, "And these books feel like kids in a way. It's my duty to get them out into the world. If I don't, then I've failed."
Okay. I've vented. The Old Mermaids will lead me in other directions. They wouldn't say, "It'll be all right. But they would say, "It'll be, it'll be, it'll be."
Blessed sea!
By the way, I still love my agent (always; he's my sweetie), my editor, and my publisher. None of them read my blogs, so I'm not kissing up. Just the facts, mahn.
And if you've figured out what the hell I'm talking about here, you are a better woman than I. Mario is making me sushi, and we'll watch a stupid movie together after. Ain't life grand?
May You Kvetch in Beauty!
P.S. This isn't about COTOM, by the way. It's another project. 2 comments
In Our Names
“I have come to America seeking three things. An acknowledgement that the United States government is responsible for kidnapping, abusing and detaining me; an explanation as to why I was singled out for this treatment; and an apology because I am an innocent man who has never been charged with any crime.” —Khaled El-Masri, a victim of extraordinary rendition
You can listen to Khaled El-Masri here. It made me weep to hear him say that he has faith in the American judicial system. That is more than I have at this point. Here's the Seattle P-I story about it. 0 comments
You can listen to Khaled El-Masri here. It made me weep to hear him say that he has faith in the American judicial system. That is more than I have at this point. Here's the Seattle P-I story about it. 0 comments
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Land Reform in Bolivia
Bolivia's first indigenous president is enacting land reform that would return land to the indigenous people. This will be interesting (and I'm hoping inspiring and nonviolent) to watch.
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Take Action on Global Warming
As I've been saying here for years and others have been saying for decades, Global Warming (or as I call it: catastrophic climate change) is the most important issue of our time—maybe of any time. Here's a way to contact our new congressional leaders to let them know we think it's important. That's the only way they'll do anything. And here's other things you can do to heal global warming. (Hey, you didn't want me to say "combat" global warming, did you?)
1 comments
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Later, Voyager
So it's white and cold outside, cozy inside. I've got Now, Voyager on while I'm doing my library order. I am reassessing this movie. The man is married, and he's putting the moves on this lonely sheltered woman. He's a cad. This isn't romantic; it's melodramatic tragedy. Hmph. I can't remember why I like it—except that Bette Davis is so wonderful.
0 comments
Rain, sleet, snow, slush, floods. We got 'em. Fortunately our electricity has stayed on, knock wood. Joanna's has gone out a couple of times up on the island. I don't like when the electricity goes out. Not in the winter. It ain't fun. Especially if you have electric heat. It's just stressful.
Mario and I started out for Portland this morning, but we turned around when we heard on the radio that we were supposed to get several inches of snow. We stopped at Eagle Creek to see if any salmon were left in the creek. There weren't. We walked on the trail for a bit, but a huge landslide blocked our way. So we turned around and went back to the car. We headed for the Giff. Snow, snow, snow. I kept thinking about Linda and how much she loved the first snow. I wanted to call her and talk about it all. I could hear her saying, "Oh, Kim, it's so beautiful out here. I wish you could see it."
So we drove to Linda's house. I hadn't been there in a month or more. Several inches of snow covered everything. We parked the car at the top of her driveway and walked down.
Jimmy and Maggie were very glad to see us. They both wanted to jump on us, but I kept them down with big hugs. I looked around at the farm and wondered if this would be the last time I saw it. Every corner of it reminds me of Linda. Everything hurt while I was there. Didn't want to feel as sad as my body was aching.
I can't remember if I mentioned that Serena is leaving the farm. We hadn't seen her in weeks until she came over last week. We sat at the kitchen table talking. We were both very sad, both missing her momma a lot, both of us missing the life that we had had—at least the good-parts version of the life we had when Linda was alive. Keeping up that farm and being alone and being nineteen and being in school and not having an income just wasn't working for her, so she was going to have to leave.
Mario and I are now watching An Inconvenient Truth. It starts with a visual of a stream and trees, and Al Gore is talking about the air and the river and the trees. And I started crying. I have loved what I have loved since I came into this world. I was a child of the forests, the marshes, the blue sky, the rivers, and ponds. I was sister to the trees and the birds and the bees and the deer and the opossums and so much more. I loved, loved, loved it all. I have watched since I was small as it changed, as our world was trashed. I saw it all and didn't understand why everyone didn't notice what was happening. I still don't understand it. Are we so disconnected from ourselves and our world that we don't notice what is happening? I remember going to a peace and justice meeting a few years ago in this area. A medical doctor was the facilitator. I mentioned the air pollution in our area. She said, "Really? I hadn't noticed." I was astonished. How could she not notice that what she was breathing was dirty? And she was a doctor!
When Al Gore lost the election, I said to Mario, "Maybe Al Gore will go and do something more important than being president. Maybe he will save the world by making people understand what global warming is doing to our planet."
I hope the Dems will do something about global warming. Most of us need to change our lives to alleviate global warming, but last I heard, businesses are the worst perpetrators. I hope Gore talks about what we can do help.
I made Mario dinner and dessert. Now it's time to clean up.
Maybe all over the world it's time to clean up.
I miss my friend tonight. I miss my friend every night. I am fortunate enough to be sitting next to my sweetheart, and I am grateful for that and so much more.
May You Become Carbon Neutral in Beauty!
(Half the photos are by Mario Milosevic, b-day boy!) 4 comments
4 comments
Monday, November 27, 2006
Global Warming & Pacific Cooling
Rain, sleet, snow, slush, floods. We got 'em. Fortunately our electricity has stayed on, knock wood. Joanna's has gone out a couple of times up on the island. I don't like when the electricity goes out. Not in the winter. It ain't fun. Especially if you have electric heat. It's just stressful.
Mario and I started out for Portland this morning, but we turned around when we heard on the radio that we were supposed to get several inches of snow. We stopped at Eagle Creek to see if any salmon were left in the creek. There weren't. We walked on the trail for a bit, but a huge landslide blocked our way. So we turned around and went back to the car. We headed for the Giff. Snow, snow, snow. I kept thinking about Linda and how much she loved the first snow. I wanted to call her and talk about it all. I could hear her saying, "Oh, Kim, it's so beautiful out here. I wish you could see it."
So we drove to Linda's house. I hadn't been there in a month or more. Several inches of snow covered everything. We parked the car at the top of her driveway and walked down.
Jimmy and Maggie were very glad to see us. They both wanted to jump on us, but I kept them down with big hugs. I looked around at the farm and wondered if this would be the last time I saw it. Every corner of it reminds me of Linda. Everything hurt while I was there. Didn't want to feel as sad as my body was aching.
I can't remember if I mentioned that Serena is leaving the farm. We hadn't seen her in weeks until she came over last week. We sat at the kitchen table talking. We were both very sad, both missing her momma a lot, both of us missing the life that we had had—at least the good-parts version of the life we had when Linda was alive. Keeping up that farm and being alone and being nineteen and being in school and not having an income just wasn't working for her, so she was going to have to leave.
Mario and I are now watching An Inconvenient Truth. It starts with a visual of a stream and trees, and Al Gore is talking about the air and the river and the trees. And I started crying. I have loved what I have loved since I came into this world. I was a child of the forests, the marshes, the blue sky, the rivers, and ponds. I was sister to the trees and the birds and the bees and the deer and the opossums and so much more. I loved, loved, loved it all. I have watched since I was small as it changed, as our world was trashed. I saw it all and didn't understand why everyone didn't notice what was happening. I still don't understand it. Are we so disconnected from ourselves and our world that we don't notice what is happening? I remember going to a peace and justice meeting a few years ago in this area. A medical doctor was the facilitator. I mentioned the air pollution in our area. She said, "Really? I hadn't noticed." I was astonished. How could she not notice that what she was breathing was dirty? And she was a doctor!
When Al Gore lost the election, I said to Mario, "Maybe Al Gore will go and do something more important than being president. Maybe he will save the world by making people understand what global warming is doing to our planet."
I hope the Dems will do something about global warming. Most of us need to change our lives to alleviate global warming, but last I heard, businesses are the worst perpetrators. I hope Gore talks about what we can do help.
I made Mario dinner and dessert. Now it's time to clean up.
Maybe all over the world it's time to clean up.
I miss my friend tonight. I miss my friend every night. I am fortunate enough to be sitting next to my sweetheart, and I am grateful for that and so much more.
May You Become Carbon Neutral in Beauty!
(Half the photos are by Mario Milosevic, b-day boy!) 4 comments
Happy Birthday, Sweetheart
4 comments
Saturday, November 25, 2006
New Old Mermaid Story
I've written a long COTOM story. Grand Mother Yemaya Mermaid decides to make comforters for the Old Mermaids made from found materials in the desert and sewn together with thread from Grandmother Spider.
Also, Terri Windling did a very nice piece about COTOM on the Endicott Studio blog. 0 comments
Also, Terri Windling did a very nice piece about COTOM on the Endicott Studio blog. 0 comments
Friday, November 24, 2006
Cover By You
Penguin is selling six of their classic books naked. They're leaving room for the reader to create her/his own cover. I love this idea. Yes, I know it's a gimmick, but I still love ideas where we become more than consumers: We are encouraged to be creators. They have a gallery of some very interesting covers created by readers.
2 comments
We made An Old Mermaid Journal for all you Church of the Old Mermaid novices! You can go here to download a free PDF of it, or you can go here to buy it. And you can go to the Church of the Old Mermaid blog to find out more about it. 2 comments
Thursday, November 23, 2006
An Old Mermaid Journal
We made An Old Mermaid Journal for all you Church of the Old Mermaid novices! You can go here to download a free PDF of it, or you can go here to buy it. And you can go to the Church of the Old Mermaid blog to find out more about it. 2 comments
Happy Thanksgiving
I hope you are all snug and safe and warm in your homes and having a great holiday. And if you live in another country and aren't celebrating Thanksgiving, I hope you are snug and safe and warm.
I am so thankful for my sweetie. I am thankful I have food and shelter. I am thankful for all my friends and family. I am thankful for all of the FS readers. I am thankful I got my surgeries this year and that it all turned out all right. I am thankful the Old Mermaids washed up into my life. I am thankful the Dems now control Congress.
It has been an incredible year, full of heartache and grief and incredible joy.
Today is Linda's birthday. I miss her so much. Serena came over and spent the afternoon yesterday. I hadn't seen her in weeks. She's probably going to have to leave the farm, and that's difficult for her. I would have gone to Linda's campsite today, but it's been pouring down pissing down rain. For weeks. This is the rainiest November on record so far. This was not Linda's favorite kind of weather. She loved the Pacific Northwest, but she also loved the sun—and snow. She loved the first snow.
Ah well. Don't want to think about it too much. Hurts too much.
Mario and I had a good day together. We watched Petrified Forest. Later we'll watch Now, Voyager. (Mario said, "Is Captain Janeway in that?") My guess is that Mario will read or do a sudoku puzzle during Now, Voyager. It is a bit...how shall we say it? It's a bit over the top.
I haven't been writing here much lately, I know. I've figured out a pattern in my life: I start feeling good, I get some energy, I work too hard, I get sick. So I'm going to break that pattern. That means I won't be working as much. I love writing. Love, love, love it. But it is an expenditure energy. So I'm trying to learn to pace myself. I'm sure many of you know the feeling.
Okay. Just wanted to say hello. I'm very very behind in my letter writing, and I apologize. I'll get caught up soon.
May You Eat in Beauty! 0 comments
I am so thankful for my sweetie. I am thankful I have food and shelter. I am thankful for all my friends and family. I am thankful for all of the FS readers. I am thankful I got my surgeries this year and that it all turned out all right. I am thankful the Old Mermaids washed up into my life. I am thankful the Dems now control Congress.
It has been an incredible year, full of heartache and grief and incredible joy.
Today is Linda's birthday. I miss her so much. Serena came over and spent the afternoon yesterday. I hadn't seen her in weeks. She's probably going to have to leave the farm, and that's difficult for her. I would have gone to Linda's campsite today, but it's been pouring down pissing down rain. For weeks. This is the rainiest November on record so far. This was not Linda's favorite kind of weather. She loved the Pacific Northwest, but she also loved the sun—and snow. She loved the first snow.
Ah well. Don't want to think about it too much. Hurts too much.
Mario and I had a good day together. We watched Petrified Forest. Later we'll watch Now, Voyager. (Mario said, "Is Captain Janeway in that?") My guess is that Mario will read or do a sudoku puzzle during Now, Voyager. It is a bit...how shall we say it? It's a bit over the top.
I haven't been writing here much lately, I know. I've figured out a pattern in my life: I start feeling good, I get some energy, I work too hard, I get sick. So I'm going to break that pattern. That means I won't be working as much. I love writing. Love, love, love it. But it is an expenditure energy. So I'm trying to learn to pace myself. I'm sure many of you know the feeling.
Okay. Just wanted to say hello. I'm very very behind in my letter writing, and I apologize. I'll get caught up soon.
May You Eat in Beauty! 0 comments
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Vote for the Best Cartoon Caption
Isn't this funny? My submission is one of the three finalist for the New Yorker cartoon caption contest. You can go here to vote on which one you like the best. Voting closes next Sunday.
Such fun! 6 comments
Such fun! 6 comments
Saturday, November 18, 2006
It Feels Like Winter
Brrrr! I'm not done with Autumn yet! More please.
The house is shaking and rattling and the wind is so cold that I don't know if I'll ever leave this house again. We were going to go out tomorrow and take pics for the Old Mermaid calendar, but I ain't goin' nowheres in this weather. Of course, I've been feeling punky for the last couple of days, so I'm not goin' anywheres anyways. Why am I talkin' this ways? I dunno. Channeling Ruby, I guess.
By the way, if there is anywhere out there who can get me in touch with people who went through Katrina in New Orleans, I would appreciate it. I want someone (or someones) who was there to read Ruby's Imagine for me.
Mario is doing a sudoku puzzle. I'm watching Friends DVDs. Yes, I watch Friends. I remember when it first came out I wouldn't watch it. Who cared about six pretty people in New York? But Dave liked it, and Dave was about as Bohemian as they came, so I watched it. It makes me laugh, so leave me alone. And yes, the first time I saw Die Hard I really liked it, too. (Several viewings later not so much.) I loved Dirty Dancing. Still do. Some guilty pleasures of mine. No, I don't watch movies that make me cry, generally speaking—I mean I don't seek them out. But I do love old Betty Davis movies: Little Foxes, All About Eve, Petrified Forest, and—of course—Now, Voyager, which is a tearjerker. When I'm sick, I most often like watching Under the Tuscan Sun, Enchanted April, Grand Canyon, Passion Fish, and sometimes LA Story (except I can't stand watching Sara Jessica Parker bouncing around in it).
Okay, I had something really profound to say, but my brain buried it or something. It's the cold or the DVDs or sumthin. So I'll say good night, Gracie. Feel free to share your guilty pleasure viewing material. Unless it's porn. I don't need to hear that.
Ta! 1 comments
The house is shaking and rattling and the wind is so cold that I don't know if I'll ever leave this house again. We were going to go out tomorrow and take pics for the Old Mermaid calendar, but I ain't goin' nowheres in this weather. Of course, I've been feeling punky for the last couple of days, so I'm not goin' anywheres anyways. Why am I talkin' this ways? I dunno. Channeling Ruby, I guess.
By the way, if there is anywhere out there who can get me in touch with people who went through Katrina in New Orleans, I would appreciate it. I want someone (or someones) who was there to read Ruby's Imagine for me.
Mario is doing a sudoku puzzle. I'm watching Friends DVDs. Yes, I watch Friends. I remember when it first came out I wouldn't watch it. Who cared about six pretty people in New York? But Dave liked it, and Dave was about as Bohemian as they came, so I watched it. It makes me laugh, so leave me alone. And yes, the first time I saw Die Hard I really liked it, too. (Several viewings later not so much.) I loved Dirty Dancing. Still do. Some guilty pleasures of mine. No, I don't watch movies that make me cry, generally speaking—I mean I don't seek them out. But I do love old Betty Davis movies: Little Foxes, All About Eve, Petrified Forest, and—of course—Now, Voyager, which is a tearjerker. When I'm sick, I most often like watching Under the Tuscan Sun, Enchanted April, Grand Canyon, Passion Fish, and sometimes LA Story (except I can't stand watching Sara Jessica Parker bouncing around in it).
Okay, I had something really profound to say, but my brain buried it or something. It's the cold or the DVDs or sumthin. So I'll say good night, Gracie. Feel free to share your guilty pleasure viewing material. Unless it's porn. I don't need to hear that.
Ta! 1 comments
Updated My Website
I've updated my website.
0 comments
Our first night of the Old Mermaid School of Telling Tales and Finding Art was a lot like the first day of any school. We shuffled our feet and paper and wondered where we would sit and what we would say. We gathered around the unlit story candle, a mermaid card, and a mermaid matchbox.
“Mario and I believe story telling is part of the fabric of a community,” I told them. “We create community as we tell stories to each other, no matter how small or big the group. We remember our history, we recall our connectedness, and the Invisibles and Visibles come together to listen to the enchantments. This is how we create and maintain community and peace and justice.”
I handed out the Old Mermaid School of Telling Tales and Finding Art notebooks we had created for everyone. About then, a spider joined our group, crawling on the rug up near my feet. We said hello to her as Spider Woman or Anansi. Then we lit the story candle, welcoming fire. I led the group on a fire meditation, an idea I got from Mara Freeman’s Kindling the Celtic Fire. Then each person talked about a memory of fire. We ate and talked. It was different from what I had expected or planned, and that was just fine.
After everyone left, Mario and I talked about what worked and what hadn’t. The elemental meditation had prompted some amazing stories. And we needed to gently, gently persuade people to leave any books at home. Stories read and stories told are completely different animals, so to speak. When you tell stories, the listener is a much more active participant than when you read a story. But that’s a discussion for a different post.
We decided we would end this session of storytelling in a class project on Beltane or thereabouts. Each of us would dress as a character—our bodies and our dress would be our artwork, found and created. And we would each tell a story to go along with our “dress.” We can tell our own story, or the story of a character in a faery tale or myth, or a story of our own creation.
Won’t it be fun? 0 comments
Friday, November 17, 2006
Telling Tales
Our first night of the Old Mermaid School of Telling Tales and Finding Art was a lot like the first day of any school. We shuffled our feet and paper and wondered where we would sit and what we would say. We gathered around the unlit story candle, a mermaid card, and a mermaid matchbox.
“Mario and I believe story telling is part of the fabric of a community,” I told them. “We create community as we tell stories to each other, no matter how small or big the group. We remember our history, we recall our connectedness, and the Invisibles and Visibles come together to listen to the enchantments. This is how we create and maintain community and peace and justice.”
I handed out the Old Mermaid School of Telling Tales and Finding Art notebooks we had created for everyone. About then, a spider joined our group, crawling on the rug up near my feet. We said hello to her as Spider Woman or Anansi. Then we lit the story candle, welcoming fire. I led the group on a fire meditation, an idea I got from Mara Freeman’s Kindling the Celtic Fire. Then each person talked about a memory of fire. We ate and talked. It was different from what I had expected or planned, and that was just fine.
After everyone left, Mario and I talked about what worked and what hadn’t. The elemental meditation had prompted some amazing stories. And we needed to gently, gently persuade people to leave any books at home. Stories read and stories told are completely different animals, so to speak. When you tell stories, the listener is a much more active participant than when you read a story. But that’s a discussion for a different post.
We decided we would end this session of storytelling in a class project on Beltane or thereabouts. Each of us would dress as a character—our bodies and our dress would be our artwork, found and created. And we would each tell a story to go along with our “dress.” We can tell our own story, or the story of a character in a faery tale or myth, or a story of our own creation.
Won’t it be fun? 0 comments
An Argument for Censorship
Self-censorship. You know, we've got the right to write whatever we want. (I think we still have that right.) I read an essay by Anthony Burgess (ages ago, so I can't remember what it was called) where he said (rather better than I can) that just because we can write something doesn't mean we should. We have a responsibility to our communities even if we're artists and writers! I think publishers have a responsibility, too. Did you hear about the book by the person whose name I will not mention where he talks about how he would have done it if he had actually killed his wife and another person? The publisher claims she published it to show how bad domestic violence can get. Bullshit. Horseshit. And every other kind of shit. Bleck, bleck, bleck. And apparently Faux News is going to interview this person. I feel so sorry for the families of these victims. Ugh.
0 comments
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Another OM Tale
Terri Windling's "Sleeping Beauties" (which hangs in our bedroom) inspired this tale.
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I am up early. I've got buckwheat and blueberries in a pot awaiting me. I'm also baking sweet potato (or yam) chips. I really need to try and remember which is which when I leave the store. They are different. I thought for years they were the same, but they aren't. Both are very nutritious, but one of them gets less nutritious when cooked. Sweet potatoes have lots of Vitamin A; yams don't have any. I hope I'm remembering that right. Anyway, I've got a tasty treat in the oven. Since I can't have anything fried and I definitely can't have potato chips, these are fun. If you want to make them, you should know they don't taste anything like potato chips; they're sweet.
Sweet potato chips: Preheat oven to 350. Slice the sweet potatoes or yams thinly, like chips. Smile to yourself that you're making decadent healthy food. Rub olive oil lightly in the bottom of a glass pan—one where you can spread the chips around. Notice how nice the oil feels on your fingers. (Or if you're like my husband, notice how icky the oil feels on your fingers.) A cookie sheet would probably work, too. Put a little olive oil in your hands and rub the slices in them and drop them in the pan. Or put them in the pan and turn them around. They should not be soaking in oil; they should have very little oil on them or in the pan. Try not to have them on top of each other. Bake for about 30 minutes, but you should watch them. Do a little dance for ten minutes. Check. Now meditate. Check. Or don't multi-task at all. Bask in the silence of baking chips. It might be more than thirty minutes; it might be less. Turn the chips every 10 minutes. You don't want them to get black. Some of them can get a little brown. (The color is off in the photograph; they aren't black in "real" life.) Let them cool for a few minutes because they'll crisp up. Mmmmm!
I'm going to eat now. I'm visiting a couple of libraries today to look at their fiction collections. Then we're off to Portland to recycle and sell stuff. I'm looking outside right now. No rain. A bit of sun. Clouds hanging low in the gorge. And some giant has dusted the tops of the conifers on the gorge cliffs with powdered sugar. Oh my! I want to call Linda and tell her, ask her if she has snow at her place yet. Then we'd sit on the phone together forever until we were both cozy and warm and so hungry that we'd have to say good-bye to each other to go eat.
I miss my old sweetheart.
May You Eat, Love, and Dance in Beauty! 0 comments
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Snow & Chips
I am up early. I've got buckwheat and blueberries in a pot awaiting me. I'm also baking sweet potato (or yam) chips. I really need to try and remember which is which when I leave the store. They are different. I thought for years they were the same, but they aren't. Both are very nutritious, but one of them gets less nutritious when cooked. Sweet potatoes have lots of Vitamin A; yams don't have any. I hope I'm remembering that right. Anyway, I've got a tasty treat in the oven. Since I can't have anything fried and I definitely can't have potato chips, these are fun. If you want to make them, you should know they don't taste anything like potato chips; they're sweet.
Sweet potato chips: Preheat oven to 350. Slice the sweet potatoes or yams thinly, like chips. Smile to yourself that you're making decadent healthy food. Rub olive oil lightly in the bottom of a glass pan—one where you can spread the chips around. Notice how nice the oil feels on your fingers. (Or if you're like my husband, notice how icky the oil feels on your fingers.) A cookie sheet would probably work, too. Put a little olive oil in your hands and rub the slices in them and drop them in the pan. Or put them in the pan and turn them around. They should not be soaking in oil; they should have very little oil on them or in the pan. Try not to have them on top of each other. Bake for about 30 minutes, but you should watch them. Do a little dance for ten minutes. Check. Now meditate. Check. Or don't multi-task at all. Bask in the silence of baking chips. It might be more than thirty minutes; it might be less. Turn the chips every 10 minutes. You don't want them to get black. Some of them can get a little brown. (The color is off in the photograph; they aren't black in "real" life.) Let them cool for a few minutes because they'll crisp up. Mmmmm!
I'm going to eat now. I'm visiting a couple of libraries today to look at their fiction collections. Then we're off to Portland to recycle and sell stuff. I'm looking outside right now. No rain. A bit of sun. Clouds hanging low in the gorge. And some giant has dusted the tops of the conifers on the gorge cliffs with powdered sugar. Oh my! I want to call Linda and tell her, ask her if she has snow at her place yet. Then we'd sit on the phone together forever until we were both cozy and warm and so hungry that we'd have to say good-bye to each other to go eat.
I miss my old sweetheart.
May You Eat, Love, and Dance in Beauty! 0 comments
Monday, November 13, 2006
Cleanliness is Next...
...door?
Well, I did it. I sat down and ripped the pages out of probably a hundred yellow pads. I witnessed my scrawl over thousands of pages—there goes the Jigsaw Woman, Gaia Websters, oh there's Crane in Coyote Cowgirl. Gone, gone, gone. Years from now no one will be able to look at those pages and see my thought process, see how I wrote...
I also got rid of all of my records, plus most of my cassettes. We'll take them into Portland and sell them. I got rid of about 1/4 of my books. We'll take those to Powell's. I got rid of almost every single VHS tapes I had. All my old Star Trek tapes. I love watching those when I'm sick or tired or whiny. Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, even Voyager. All gone. (We're mailing those to someplace that recycles such things.) We're also taking three computers into a place in Portland that recycles computers. We have to pay both these recycle places, but I don't care. I want them gone. The Faeries don't like clutter, I've been told. The Wabi-Sabi way is definitely without clutter. And I just want less crap. The house was completely trashed for a day, but now it is almost back to order, except for my room. I've got the light off. I'm not even going in there for a while. I have on-the-road library work to do all day tomorrow, so I won't see it until then—if I can stay away.
That's all there is today, except to say it is indeed still raining. 2 comments
Well, I did it. I sat down and ripped the pages out of probably a hundred yellow pads. I witnessed my scrawl over thousands of pages—there goes the Jigsaw Woman, Gaia Websters, oh there's Crane in Coyote Cowgirl. Gone, gone, gone. Years from now no one will be able to look at those pages and see my thought process, see how I wrote...
I also got rid of all of my records, plus most of my cassettes. We'll take them into Portland and sell them. I got rid of about 1/4 of my books. We'll take those to Powell's. I got rid of almost every single VHS tapes I had. All my old Star Trek tapes. I love watching those when I'm sick or tired or whiny. Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, even Voyager. All gone. (We're mailing those to someplace that recycles such things.) We're also taking three computers into a place in Portland that recycles computers. We have to pay both these recycle places, but I don't care. I want them gone. The Faeries don't like clutter, I've been told. The Wabi-Sabi way is definitely without clutter. And I just want less crap. The house was completely trashed for a day, but now it is almost back to order, except for my room. I've got the light off. I'm not even going in there for a while. I have on-the-road library work to do all day tomorrow, so I won't see it until then—if I can stay away.
That's all there is today, except to say it is indeed still raining. 2 comments
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Cleaning House
I'm trying to get rid of the clutter in my life. You should see the house: looks like we've had a disaster. Does that happen to you when you do a big cleaning? I have way, way, way too much paper. Since I wrote most of my novels on yellow pads, I have all those pads. Plus I have the printed drafts of all of my novels. Do I save them? Do I dump them? Do I keep just one copy? Do I keep the yellow pads? It's too much stuff. I figured someone would want my papers some day, but that day hasn't come. So now what do I do? Isn't it great I have too much stuff: that's the kind of dilemma to have. Tomorrow morning I just may get up and throw it all away. Wouldn't that be liberating? Every time I've sold some of my book—which we used to do all the time—I've always been sorry. Always a week or a month later, I'll need one of the books I sold. If I throw away something I've written it's gone.
So what do you think? Is there any reason to keep first drafts of novels? What do other writers do?
It's still raining.
I'm off to bed. 2 comments
So what do you think? Is there any reason to keep first drafts of novels? What do other writers do?
It's still raining.
I'm off to bed. 2 comments
Waiting...
...and having lazy fun. I'm watching weather stories on the Weather Channel. (Yes, we've called to have them turn it off, so it'll go off any second.) Mario is working on the Old Mermaid Journal. (I'll tell you about it when it's done.) I've been punky all day, but I worked all day anyway. Now I'm taking quizzes. I liked this one about accents. They had me right on, which is annoying, because I've had linguists tell me they can't tell where I'm from. But that's because I take on the accent of wherever I am or whomever I'm with. Since I'm with myself right now, I guess my true roots show. I was raised in Michigan, and I've spent the last twenty years out West. The last twenty years don't seem to make a difference. Of course I call carbonated drinks "pop." What else would you call them. (Yeah, yeah, I know. Soda. I don't know what the heck a soda is. A pop?) It drives me crazy when people pronounce "dawn" and "don" the same. Okay, it doesn't really drive me crazy. It makes me cringe. Don't know why. I like that we talk different from one another. Yeah you rite.
2 comments
| What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Inland North You may think you speak "Standard English straight out of the dictionary" but when you step away from the Great Lakes you get asked annoying questions like "Are you from Wisconsin?" or "Are you from Chicago?" Chances are you call carbonated drinks "pop." | |
| The Midland | |
| The Northeast | |
| Philadelphia | |
| The South | |
| The West | |
| Boston | |
| North Central | |
| What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes | |
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Promises, Promises!
It is pouring down pissing down rain. I have barely slept in days. Or rather I have barely slept in nights. Yes, I'm so amusing to myself when I haven't slept. I don't care that I haven't slept except that I'm exhausted. I'm having trouble sleeping because these stories about the Old Mermaids just want to be written. But...I just wandered away for a half 'n hour; I forgot what I was doing! Hah.
So I did another Old Mermaid story. We also worked on the Old Mermaid Journal today. We're putting together a journal for the Old Mermaid School of Telling Tales and Finding Art. We went out to take photographs for the three minutes it wasn't raining.
By the way, this photograph was taken in front of a store owned by Bush-ites. But the Old Mermaids wouldn't see them that way, so....Plus we really liked the red brick. I don't really get the "Sorry we're open sign." It must be Republican humor. Yes, that's my hand. It's weird, isn't it? Because the Old Mermaid looks so much bigger in the photos. Yes, they look bigger to me, too.
Anyway, I promise to post something soon. I'm catching up on library work and home work and stuff. You know the story.
I also promise to be coherent next time...Okay, maybe I won't promise that. I'll try.
Hope you're having a marvey weekend. 0 comments
So I did another Old Mermaid story. We also worked on the Old Mermaid Journal today. We're putting together a journal for the Old Mermaid School of Telling Tales and Finding Art. We went out to take photographs for the three minutes it wasn't raining.
By the way, this photograph was taken in front of a store owned by Bush-ites. But the Old Mermaids wouldn't see them that way, so....Plus we really liked the red brick. I don't really get the "Sorry we're open sign." It must be Republican humor. Yes, that's my hand. It's weird, isn't it? Because the Old Mermaid looks so much bigger in the photos. Yes, they look bigger to me, too.
Anyway, I promise to post something soon. I'm catching up on library work and home work and stuff. You know the story.
I also promise to be coherent next time...Okay, maybe I won't promise that. I'll try.
Hope you're having a marvey weekend. 0 comments
Thursday, November 09, 2006
More Old Mermaids
I won't always tell you when I'm posting something on the COTOM blog, but since you've been following the progress of the Old Mermaids, I thought you might like to read a new piece about Sister Lyra Musica Mermaid.
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Honeymoon
I'm sitting watching the teevee (still not off) while Mario does the bills next to me. The Dem Senate leaders are talking, three guys. I'm hearing blah, blah, blah. So I say, "Where are the women, dickwads!" Mario laughs and laughs. "The honeymoon's over suckers," he says. "You didn't think the love would last, did you?"
I am very excited. I am so excited that John Conyers will now be the Chairman of the House Judiciary Committee.
Subpeona power, subpeona power. Yes, yes, yes!
Okay, now New York Senator Chuck Schumer is talking about the American people and how now Congress needs to work for us. That I like to hear. 2 comments
I am very excited. I am so excited that John Conyers will now be the Chairman of the House Judiciary Committee.
Subpeona power, subpeona power. Yes, yes, yes!
Okay, now New York Senator Chuck Schumer is talking about the American people and how now Congress needs to work for us. That I like to hear. 2 comments
Planting Trees
(I'm getting my blogs mixed up. Not a good sign. I mistakenly put this up on COTOM. I need to go eat. That's my excuse...)
I love going to the Endicott Studio blog. It's always so beautiful. Even if I don't have time to read it, I have something pretty to look at. Today the post is about planting trees. Remember, the bees told me that flowers know everything and the trees know even more. We don't want to lose that knowledge. Besides that, they're great huggers. 0 comments
I love going to the Endicott Studio blog. It's always so beautiful. Even if I don't have time to read it, I have something pretty to look at. Today the post is about planting trees. Remember, the bees told me that flowers know everything and the trees know even more. We don't want to lose that knowledge. Besides that, they're great huggers. 0 comments
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
A Lull in the Storm
It's not raining quite as hard right this second. And on the teevee, Jim Webb has been declared the winner in Virginia. The Dems have taken the Senate. Halle-freaking-lujah.
Tomorrow we have our teevee service turned off again. I'm looking forward to it. All these talking heads are...icky.
We had a nice little election party last night, five of us. Mario made spring rolls. Mmmmm. And we heard good news about the elections. Afterward I couldn't get to sleep. Could you? Finally dropped off for a couple of hours, and then I was up again. At 5:00 a.m., I sat on this couch (where I am now) writing a post for the Church of the Old Mermaids blog. It was quiet, except for the rain. Sounded so nice and secure. Mario was upstairs sleeping, I had hopes our country might get back on track, and life was good.
Today we went into Portland for acupuncture. Afterward we went to an office supply place, and I realized—after having one of those tug of war conversations with another person—that one of the things I long for is collaboration. Most of the projects I take on are things I hope will continue in collaboration. Instead, these projects often end in exhaustion—my exhaustion. I don't know about where you live, but where I live, collaboration isn't something most people want. Everyone has their own way of doing things, their own agenda, and they're going to do it their own way no matter what. This does not work well in groups. It does not work well in community or in government. Cooperation and collaboration does not have to mean compromise—in the bad sense of that word.
I work best when I am in cooperation and collaboration with others. I learn things by talking with people. I like bouncing ideas off of someone and having them bounce their ideas right back at me. (Are you picturing it?) That ain't the Western way.
(This collaboration and cooperation doesn't work when I'm writing. I write alone. I don't really want or need input from anyone in the middle of a fiction project—although I will talk to Mario about what I'm doing, but that's it.)
When Mario and I were talking about this today he said, "I didn't know that about you." I said, "What? We've been together for twenty-six years and you don't know that? I'm always talking about wanting community." "Community and collaboration are not the same things." "But you can't have workable community without collaboration."
And so it goes.
Is it just that so many people are control freaks, so they can't allow for someone else's point of view? Or is it more that so many people don't believe in themselves, so they can't imagine collaborating because they're afraid it might expose their weaknesses? (And of course the word collaboration has its own baggage: collaborating with the enemy and all that.)
I'm being vague, aren't I? It's late and I can't think of any specific examples. I haven't slept much in the last few days. Lots of good and wonderful things happening. Still tired though. Tonight I hope to sleep like a horse. No, wait, I hope to sleep like a baby. That's the saying. A baby who sleeps through the night, of course.
Our house has not leaked through the storm, knock wood. Our car is another matter. The trunk is full of water. (Okay, it is not full of water. But there was a lot of water. Too much water in any case because there shouldn't have been any at all.)
I had something profound to say, but it disappeared. And Mario just came in and told me to get off the computer. In a sweet and loving way, of course. "You have got to get off that computer. It's not going to help your tiredness."
Okay, my sweet.
More on the morrow.
Tomorrow we have our teevee service turned off again. I'm looking forward to it. All these talking heads are...icky.
We had a nice little election party last night, five of us. Mario made spring rolls. Mmmmm. And we heard good news about the elections. Afterward I couldn't get to sleep. Could you? Finally dropped off for a couple of hours, and then I was up again. At 5:00 a.m., I sat on this couch (where I am now) writing a post for the Church of the Old Mermaids blog. It was quiet, except for the rain. Sounded so nice and secure. Mario was upstairs sleeping, I had hopes our country might get back on track, and life was good.
Today we went into Portland for acupuncture. Afterward we went to an office supply place, and I realized—after having one of those tug of war conversations with another person—that one of the things I long for is collaboration. Most of the projects I take on are things I hope will continue in collaboration. Instead, these projects often end in exhaustion—my exhaustion. I don't know about where you live, but where I live, collaboration isn't something most people want. Everyone has their own way of doing things, their own agenda, and they're going to do it their own way no matter what. This does not work well in groups. It does not work well in community or in government. Cooperation and collaboration does not have to mean compromise—in the bad sense of that word.
I work best when I am in cooperation and collaboration with others. I learn things by talking with people. I like bouncing ideas off of someone and having them bounce their ideas right back at me. (Are you picturing it?) That ain't the Western way.
(This collaboration and cooperation doesn't work when I'm writing. I write alone. I don't really want or need input from anyone in the middle of a fiction project—although I will talk to Mario about what I'm doing, but that's it.)
When Mario and I were talking about this today he said, "I didn't know that about you." I said, "What? We've been together for twenty-six years and you don't know that? I'm always talking about wanting community." "Community and collaboration are not the same things." "But you can't have workable community without collaboration."
And so it goes.
Is it just that so many people are control freaks, so they can't allow for someone else's point of view? Or is it more that so many people don't believe in themselves, so they can't imagine collaborating because they're afraid it might expose their weaknesses? (And of course the word collaboration has its own baggage: collaborating with the enemy and all that.)
I'm being vague, aren't I? It's late and I can't think of any specific examples. I haven't slept much in the last few days. Lots of good and wonderful things happening. Still tired though. Tonight I hope to sleep like a horse. No, wait, I hope to sleep like a baby. That's the saying. A baby who sleeps through the night, of course.
Our house has not leaked through the storm, knock wood. Our car is another matter. The trunk is full of water. (Okay, it is not full of water. But there was a lot of water. Too much water in any case because there shouldn't have been any at all.)
I had something profound to say, but it disappeared. And Mario just came in and told me to get off the computer. In a sweet and loving way, of course. "You have got to get off that computer. It's not going to help your tiredness."
Okay, my sweet.
More on the morrow.
Labels: community, democracy watch, nature, sleep
2 comments
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Yep
As Patrick Nielsen Hayden wrote, "Two beautiful words." Especially the even more beautiful words: subpoena power. They better investigate; they better not get nice. And they better get busy: healthcare, the environment, women's rights, THE WAR IN IRAQ.
Yep. 2 comments
Yep. 2 comments
Church of the Old Mermaids blog
Well, I'm going to try another blog: Church of the Old Mermaids. Right now, most of it you've already read, with a bit new. Enjoy!
0 comments
What She Said:
Vote, vote, vote! Don't let anything or anyone stop you.
0 comments
The Flood is Here!
Remember I said yesterday that it was really, really, really, really raining? Well, I wasn't exaggerating. The weather people said a few days ago we were going to get maybe an inch while Seattle would get about six. Hah! I kept thinking, "Man, they must measure rain differently. This has got to be more than an inch." Turns out we got five inches in our county yesterday. Before this storm, we had about 50 inches of rain for the year. So we got a tenth of our rain in one day. Already today, we've had almost two and it's only 8:30 a.m. Interesting. I'm staying indoors today and working on Church of the Old Mermaid stuff (and later watching the teevee and having people over), so the rain is kind of nice, but thus far I don't have to worry about flooding. The Seattle area is pretty much drowned. Bad weather is usually good times for the Repulsicans at the polls. Mario said, "Why? Are the Dems too lazy to get up and go vote if it's raining? 'We want to keep Bush from trashing the Constitution but it's too wet.'" (He said this last part with a whine.) I really don't know why—and I've got to eat breakfast, so maybe I'll check later.
Ta! 1 comments
Ta! 1 comments
Monday, November 06, 2006
Oracle
"Ask the wild bees what the druid knows."
Tomorrow the votes are counted (or aren't). Millions of people will go the polls, and the fate of our country will be determined...unless it's already been determined. Mario and I voted a week or so ago. It's all by mail. My father pointed out today that someone at a post office could just confiscate all those ballots and get rid of them without anyone ever knowing. (That's why we walk our ballot over to the auditor's office—which, by the way, is an elected office. And our auditor is Republican.)
We're having an election party tomorrow, if anyone can get here during our flooding. We'll see. I hope we have something to celebrate.
Tonight I was wandering, and I stopped over at Endicott Studio blog. It's always so beautiful, and they find the most wonderful goodies! I love the Pre-Raphaelites. Yes, I wish they had painted someone over twenty, but the paintings are still pretty to look at.
So I'm putting some of them up tonight, just because I want to look at them while I listen to the rain, while I contemplate the future of our world.
These paintings are all in the public domain, and they were created by John William Waterhouse.
The Crystal Ball
Consulting the Oracle
The Charmer
Mermaid
Sweet dreams and sweet tomorrows. 0 comments
Tomorrow the votes are counted (or aren't). Millions of people will go the polls, and the fate of our country will be determined...unless it's already been determined. Mario and I voted a week or so ago. It's all by mail. My father pointed out today that someone at a post office could just confiscate all those ballots and get rid of them without anyone ever knowing. (That's why we walk our ballot over to the auditor's office—which, by the way, is an elected office. And our auditor is Republican.)
We're having an election party tomorrow, if anyone can get here during our flooding. We'll see. I hope we have something to celebrate.
Tonight I was wandering, and I stopped over at Endicott Studio blog. It's always so beautiful, and they find the most wonderful goodies! I love the Pre-Raphaelites. Yes, I wish they had painted someone over twenty, but the paintings are still pretty to look at.
So I'm putting some of them up tonight, just because I want to look at them while I listen to the rain, while I contemplate the future of our world.
These paintings are all in the public domain, and they were created by John William Waterhouse.
The Crystal Ball
Consulting the Oracle
The Charmer
Mermaid
Sweet dreams and sweet tomorrows. 0 comments
A River
We is in the middle of a flood. A big one. We have become a river, or part of a river. Outside the rain is pouring, pouring, pouring from the sky, as though all the stars have become pitchers overflowing, overflowing with star milk. Mario is on the couch next to me, sleeping—although he would swear he wasn't if he saw me watching. We're listening to the new Enya album. I hope I like it better than her last one. I gaze at Mario, rumbled, tired, his hands across his belly, and I am filled up with love. Overflowing! I think of Sissy Maggie Mermaid who fell in love with everything and everyone, and I know what she felt like.
I woke up at 4:30 a.m. this morning. I lay in bed listening to the wind shaking the house and the rain pelting the windows. Ahhh, winter in the Pacific Northwest—although it has come a bit early. We completed our month-long healing ritual for the community last night, standing in the driving rain for a long while, walking in an almost-lake that had been a field a few days ago. As I started walking toward the center of the field, I thought, "Give me a sign that this will help." Just then that same bird who had circled me the other night called out again. At least I think it's the same bird...After we finished, I ran up to the Old Oak and gave it a hug. Yes, I have been and always will be a treehugger. This morning at 4:30 a.m., I tried to figure out how I could give everyone a kit to start their own Old Mermaid Sanctuary—just something to encourage people, because telling anyone how to do it would be antithetical to the Old Mermaids. They are not doctrinal. I imagined Old Mermaid sanctuaries all over the world. Places of peace and beauty, loving, connected to the whole community of creatures, Visibles and Invisibles. Ahhhhh. Feels good envisioning it.
When Mario and I were hiking somewhere this summer, we came to a spot where we thought a bench would be nice. Wouldn't it be grand to donate money in the name of the Church of the Old Mermaids to have this bench put in? Wouldn't it be great to donate books in the name of the Church of the Old Mermaids? Etc. All over everywhere and back again, we imagined all these good things and great deeds with the name Church of the Old Mermaids attached to them. And wouldn't everyone who saw that just sigh, "Ahhhhh." Feels good imagining it.
Then we drove to Vancouver today in the torrential rainstorm. I should say we drove in the moonsoon! (I like that typo: moonsoon. I guess because it was the day after the Full Moon.) It is almost unbelievable the amount of rain. Yellow leaves fly from the trees like flocks of finches. Waterfalls stream down the hillsides. It is all water. Watery, watery, watery. As though the Old Sea is returning. Most creeks are reaching flood stage. I look for Old Mermaids everywhere. We're an hour early to the doctor since I messed up the time, so we drive to the nearby library and I do some work. Then it's back to the doc's. I am so nervous I want to puke or run or scream. I try to keep grounded, and I breathe. I listen to the ringing in my ears and my heart beating. Then the doc comes in and gets all her instruments ready. I tell her that I didn't take the steroids, that I worked with my family doc to try and correct the cause of these polyps; I've been on an anti-inflammatory diet. I don't tell her about all the other things I've been doing. (How would I explain the Bee Goddess or the Old Mermaids? How would I explain listening to the ringing in my ears and hearing, "The flowers know everything and the trees know even more"? She looks up into my left sinus. "Oh, Kim, this looks really good!" Then she goes into the right sinus, the one where the polyps had started, and she says, "It looks great! This is miraculous. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it." Ahhhhhh!!!!! I say, "Give me some sugar." And we embrace. She tells me to keep doing what I've been doing—whatever it is—and come back in six weeks.
I feel light and shocked and awed.
We drive to Portland. We hope everyone is being careful since it is difficult to see. Once we stop, we're still in a river. Our feet get soaked from flooded roads. We don't care. We keep our arms around each other and run across the river road. I don't mind the water. I don't mind anything. Today I am part of the river, part of the flow.
Blessed sea. 0 comments
2 comments
I woke up at 4:30 a.m. this morning. I lay in bed listening to the wind shaking the house and the rain pelting the windows. Ahhh, winter in the Pacific Northwest—although it has come a bit early. We completed our month-long healing ritual for the community last night, standing in the driving rain for a long while, walking in an almost-lake that had been a field a few days ago. As I started walking toward the center of the field, I thought, "Give me a sign that this will help." Just then that same bird who had circled me the other night called out again. At least I think it's the same bird...After we finished, I ran up to the Old Oak and gave it a hug. Yes, I have been and always will be a treehugger. This morning at 4:30 a.m., I tried to figure out how I could give everyone a kit to start their own Old Mermaid Sanctuary—just something to encourage people, because telling anyone how to do it would be antithetical to the Old Mermaids. They are not doctrinal. I imagined Old Mermaid sanctuaries all over the world. Places of peace and beauty, loving, connected to the whole community of creatures, Visibles and Invisibles. Ahhhhh. Feels good envisioning it.
When Mario and I were hiking somewhere this summer, we came to a spot where we thought a bench would be nice. Wouldn't it be grand to donate money in the name of the Church of the Old Mermaids to have this bench put in? Wouldn't it be great to donate books in the name of the Church of the Old Mermaids? Etc. All over everywhere and back again, we imagined all these good things and great deeds with the name Church of the Old Mermaids attached to them. And wouldn't everyone who saw that just sigh, "Ahhhhh." Feels good imagining it.
Then we drove to Vancouver today in the torrential rainstorm. I should say we drove in the moonsoon! (I like that typo: moonsoon. I guess because it was the day after the Full Moon.) It is almost unbelievable the amount of rain. Yellow leaves fly from the trees like flocks of finches. Waterfalls stream down the hillsides. It is all water. Watery, watery, watery. As though the Old Sea is returning. Most creeks are reaching flood stage. I look for Old Mermaids everywhere. We're an hour early to the doctor since I messed up the time, so we drive to the nearby library and I do some work. Then it's back to the doc's. I am so nervous I want to puke or run or scream. I try to keep grounded, and I breathe. I listen to the ringing in my ears and my heart beating. Then the doc comes in and gets all her instruments ready. I tell her that I didn't take the steroids, that I worked with my family doc to try and correct the cause of these polyps; I've been on an anti-inflammatory diet. I don't tell her about all the other things I've been doing. (How would I explain the Bee Goddess or the Old Mermaids? How would I explain listening to the ringing in my ears and hearing, "The flowers know everything and the trees know even more"? She looks up into my left sinus. "Oh, Kim, this looks really good!" Then she goes into the right sinus, the one where the polyps had started, and she says, "It looks great! This is miraculous. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it." Ahhhhhh!!!!! I say, "Give me some sugar." And we embrace. She tells me to keep doing what I've been doing—whatever it is—and come back in six weeks.
I feel light and shocked and awed.
We drive to Portland. We hope everyone is being careful since it is difficult to see. Once we stop, we're still in a river. Our feet get soaked from flooded roads. We don't care. We keep our arms around each other and run across the river road. I don't mind the water. I don't mind anything. Today I am part of the river, part of the flow.
Blessed sea. 0 comments
Sunday, November 05, 2006
2 comments
Saturday, November 04, 2006
A Sister Mermaid
By the way, have I mentioned the Gaian Tarot to you? I collect tarot cards. I have for years. I see them as lovely art pieces. I use them as meditation tools to get myself moving or thinking or feeling or wondering. I'm very fussy about what cards I use. They need to reflect a world view that is similar to mine if I'm going to actually use the book that comes with them. If they're just beautiful, then I forget about the book. I've been studying tarot long enough that I can read the cards without a guide. The Motherpeace deck was my favorite for years and years, and I still know it better than any of the other decks. Some decks I just like because they're pretty. I love the Halloween tarot deck because it's just so clever. I get a kick out of the Tarot of Baseball, too. (There are actually two baseball tarot sets.)
My favorite tarot card set is one that isn't quite completed yet: the Gaian Tarot created by Joanna Powell Colbert. She has the major arcana available now, and it is beautiful. I love the art, and I love the booklet that comes with it. The writing is so compassionate and loving; all of it seems to spring from the Earth. The Gaian Tarot was the only divination/meditation tool I took with me to Santa Fe recently.
Joanna let me look over the first chapter of the book she is writing to go along with the entire tarot deck she is creating, and it was just as lovely and contemplative as her booklet—only so much more! Sometimes I just read the booklet and look at the cards to relax me. I'm looking forward to the book and cards getting published! Joanna was one of the artists for the magazine Mario and I created and published many years ago: Daughters of Nyx. She's a wonderful artist and writer. I keep using the word compassionate to describe her work, and that is a great compliment. (I want her to finish her deck so she and I can conspire together about Old Mermaid things.)
Okay, now I'm going to help Mario get out those invites!
May You Divine in Beauty!
P.S. I'm a little slow. I just went wandering around Joanna's website again, and I found for the first time her gallery of mermaids! I am in love all over again. 3 comments
My favorite tarot card set is one that isn't quite completed yet: the Gaian Tarot created by Joanna Powell Colbert. She has the major arcana available now, and it is beautiful. I love the art, and I love the booklet that comes with it. The writing is so compassionate and loving; all of it seems to spring from the Earth. The Gaian Tarot was the only divination/meditation tool I took with me to Santa Fe recently.
Joanna let me look over the first chapter of the book she is writing to go along with the entire tarot deck she is creating, and it was just as lovely and contemplative as her booklet—only so much more! Sometimes I just read the booklet and look at the cards to relax me. I'm looking forward to the book and cards getting published! Joanna was one of the artists for the magazine Mario and I created and published many years ago: Daughters of Nyx. She's a wonderful artist and writer. I keep using the word compassionate to describe her work, and that is a great compliment. (I want her to finish her deck so she and I can conspire together about Old Mermaid things.)
Okay, now I'm going to help Mario get out those invites!
May You Divine in Beauty!
P.S. I'm a little slow. I just went wandering around Joanna's website again, and I found for the first time her gallery of mermaids! I am in love all over again. 3 comments
Rain & School Old Mermaid Style
It is pouring down pissin' down rain. Yep. It is November in the Pacific Northwest. Rain, rain, rain. And did I mention: rain. The flooding will start on the morrow, no doubt. As usual, I have my eye out for the ark. (Ouch. Not literally.)
I've been doing a ritual every night now for nearly a month. A month tomorrow. A healing ceremony for the community. Every night Mario and I walk down to the river, do a little rattling, a little singing and talking and communing with the elements and the trees and the water, then I scoop up some water from the river. (That sounds simple, but it ain't. In the past month we have had some weather, and the Big River has reflected that. It's been cold, rainy, stormy, cold, windy, cold, and windy. I gather up a little water while trying not to drown or slip or get all wet. I've been fairly successful thus far.) Then we go back up the hill to a grassy place near the Old Oak and Old Maple and we continue our ceremony for the healing of our community. Tomorrow is the last night. I'll miss it. I like hanging out with the invisibles—and the visibles. One night a yellow dog showed up. Another night a tiny black dog dogged us. Two nights ago some kind of bird decided to be a part of the ceremony. As I stood in the rain, this bird kept circling me. Not above me but around me. I asked it if it needed anything. It just circled and called out.
And the dreams I've had this month. Bears, bears, and more bears. A black and white snake. Horses. Crazy people. And more. I won't go on. I haven't eaten a bit of crap for a month now. And no gluten of any kind. No nightshade. Not even cayenne or paprika. Only went out to eat once, at the Blossoming Lotus in Portland. I have been to two different acupuncturists I don't know how many times. Plus my naturopath and my craniosacral therapist and a shamanic practitioner and a hynotherapist. That's not counting all the Invisibles I had conversations with. And I wrote a book. Tonight my sinuses feel sore, but I still hope that the polyps either disappeared or didn't get any worse.
Did I mention I've started listening to the ringing in my ears? Like the buzzing of bees. Remember that saying: "Ask the wild bee what the druids knew." So I'm listening. I've heard, "Flowers know everything, and the trees know even more... Magic likes routine—and wild abandon...Sing. Pray. They are the same." (I just realized if someone came to this site for the first time tonight, they'd probably think I was a bit crazy. More than a bit, darlin'!)
Mario and I have decided to start a chapter of the Old Mermaid School of Telling Tales and Finding Art. This particular school, or the idea of it, appears in Church of the Old Mermaids. In the book it was a school for children, but we like the idea so much that we're going to start a chapter here, so to speak. We're inviting people from our town to come and tell stories. Here's how part of the invite goes: "You are invited to an evening of stories and art. Thursday, November 16, 2006, 6:00 pm, at Kim and Mario's house. We will be practicing the ancient art of storytelling and celebrating the beauty of found art. The last harvest is in, so now it is time for storytelling—the kind of word weaving our ancestors spun to hold their communities together. If you know a good story, please come tell it (not read it). If you have a particularly interesting piece of found art, please bring it—maybe it’ll turn out to be something the Old Mermaids used, and Kim will have a story to go along with it. Or just come and listen." People really responded to the Old Mermaid stories at the Gathering. Now this will be a time and place for more stories of the Old Mermaids and other stories from other people. I'll let you know how it progresses.
I have a sign on my front door that says, "Welcome to the Old Mermaid Sanctuary." I'm going to change it to "Welcome to an Old Mermaid Sanctuary," because there are sanctuaries everywhere—and we want more and more of them! There is no dogma in the Church of the Old Mermaids, just suggestions, but what do you think an Old Mermaid Sanctuary should actually be in order to be an Old Mermaid Sanctuary? (Got that?) The Old Mermaids would suggest beauty within every sanctuary. Each new Old Mermaid can define what beauty is for herself (or himself). The Old Mermaids would suggest that problems be solved without violence in the Old Mermaid sanctuaries. In fact, clever creative problem-solving without name calling is highly valued amongst the Old Mermaids. Creations of all kinds are met with great joy. Good food is served and eaten within an Old Mermaid sanctuary. People love within Old Mermaid sanctuaries. Animals too. Connection with nature is reaffirmed everywhere in an Old Mermaid sanctuary. Those in need are welcomed in an Old Mermaid sanctuary. Songs are sung. Enchantments are chanted. Joy is joyful. And dances are danced.
That is the Old Mermaid way.
If any of you establish your own Old Mermaid sanctuaries, send me pics of your signs or your place and I'll post them. I would love it!
Haven't I just rambled on and on tonight. It's been fun. I haven't done this in a long time. I haven't wanted to bore you with my fears and trials and tribulations this month. So many of you have so many more pressing problems than I do. But right this second, right this moment, I am so happy. I am filled with absolute joy. I can hear the rain. I can hear Mario cutting up the Old Mermaid invites in the kitchen. I imagine all of you comfy and safe while you read this.
Blessed buzzin' bee!
Sweet dreams! 3 comments
I've been doing a ritual every night now for nearly a month. A month tomorrow. A healing ceremony for the community. Every night Mario and I walk down to the river, do a little rattling, a little singing and talking and communing with the elements and the trees and the water, then I scoop up some water from the river. (That sounds simple, but it ain't. In the past month we have had some weather, and the Big River has reflected that. It's been cold, rainy, stormy, cold, windy, cold, and windy. I gather up a little water while trying not to drown or slip or get all wet. I've been fairly successful thus far.) Then we go back up the hill to a grassy place near the Old Oak and Old Maple and we continue our ceremony for the healing of our community. Tomorrow is the last night. I'll miss it. I like hanging out with the invisibles—and the visibles. One night a yellow dog showed up. Another night a tiny black dog dogged us. Two nights ago some kind of bird decided to be a part of the ceremony. As I stood in the rain, this bird kept circling me. Not above me but around me. I asked it if it needed anything. It just circled and called out.
And the dreams I've had this month. Bears, bears, and more bears. A black and white snake. Horses. Crazy people. And more. I won't go on. I haven't eaten a bit of crap for a month now. And no gluten of any kind. No nightshade. Not even cayenne or paprika. Only went out to eat once, at the Blossoming Lotus in Portland. I have been to two different acupuncturists I don't know how many times. Plus my naturopath and my craniosacral therapist and a shamanic practitioner and a hynotherapist. That's not counting all the Invisibles I had conversations with. And I wrote a book. Tonight my sinuses feel sore, but I still hope that the polyps either disappeared or didn't get any worse.
Did I mention I've started listening to the ringing in my ears? Like the buzzing of bees. Remember that saying: "Ask the wild bee what the druids knew." So I'm listening. I've heard, "Flowers know everything, and the trees know even more... Magic likes routine—and wild abandon...Sing. Pray. They are the same." (I just realized if someone came to this site for the first time tonight, they'd probably think I was a bit crazy. More than a bit, darlin'!)
Mario and I have decided to start a chapter of the Old Mermaid School of Telling Tales and Finding Art. This particular school, or the idea of it, appears in Church of the Old Mermaids. In the book it was a school for children, but we like the idea so much that we're going to start a chapter here, so to speak. We're inviting people from our town to come and tell stories. Here's how part of the invite goes: "You are invited to an evening of stories and art. Thursday, November 16, 2006, 6:00 pm, at Kim and Mario's house. We will be practicing the ancient art of storytelling and celebrating the beauty of found art. The last harvest is in, so now it is time for storytelling—the kind of word weaving our ancestors spun to hold their communities together. If you know a good story, please come tell it (not read it). If you have a particularly interesting piece of found art, please bring it—maybe it’ll turn out to be something the Old Mermaids used, and Kim will have a story to go along with it. Or just come and listen." People really responded to the Old Mermaid stories at the Gathering. Now this will be a time and place for more stories of the Old Mermaids and other stories from other people. I'll let you know how it progresses.
I have a sign on my front door that says, "Welcome to the Old Mermaid Sanctuary." I'm going to change it to "Welcome to an Old Mermaid Sanctuary," because there are sanctuaries everywhere—and we want more and more of them! There is no dogma in the Church of the Old Mermaids, just suggestions, but what do you think an Old Mermaid Sanctuary should actually be in order to be an Old Mermaid Sanctuary? (Got that?) The Old Mermaids would suggest beauty within every sanctuary. Each new Old Mermaid can define what beauty is for herself (or himself). The Old Mermaids would suggest that problems be solved without violence in the Old Mermaid sanctuaries. In fact, clever creative problem-solving without name calling is highly valued amongst the Old Mermaids. Creations of all kinds are met with great joy. Good food is served and eaten within an Old Mermaid sanctuary. People love within Old Mermaid sanctuaries. Animals too. Connection with nature is reaffirmed everywhere in an Old Mermaid sanctuary. Those in need are welcomed in an Old Mermaid sanctuary. Songs are sung. Enchantments are chanted. Joy is joyful. And dances are danced.
That is the Old Mermaid way.
If any of you establish your own Old Mermaid sanctuaries, send me pics of your signs or your place and I'll post them. I would love it!
Haven't I just rambled on and on tonight. It's been fun. I haven't done this in a long time. I haven't wanted to bore you with my fears and trials and tribulations this month. So many of you have so many more pressing problems than I do. But right this second, right this moment, I am so happy. I am filled with absolute joy. I can hear the rain. I can hear Mario cutting up the Old Mermaid invites in the kitchen. I imagine all of you comfy and safe while you read this.
Blessed buzzin' bee!
Sweet dreams! 3 comments
Freedom
Good vid. Warning: some gruesome pics.
0 comments
It's a Crow's World...
...we just live in it. These crows (and more) were fascinated by this fritos bag out in front of the church across the street from where we live. I'd love to hear your captions for these photos.
#1 "Come on you guys. You don't know where that bag has been."
#2 "Three's a crowd, buddy. Get lost." "I'm getting inside of this bag one way or another."
#3 "They're gone! Now we're finally alone. Don't I look like an eagle in profile?" "I hope there's still some chips left in the bag."
#4 "I really, really love you." "You, too, babe, now give me back the chips." 6 comments
#1 "Come on you guys. You don't know where that bag has been."
#2 "Three's a crowd, buddy. Get lost." "I'm getting inside of this bag one way or another."
#3 "They're gone! Now we're finally alone. Don't I look like an eagle in profile?" "I hope there's still some chips left in the bag."
#4 "I really, really love you." "You, too, babe, now give me back the chips." 6 comments
Friday, November 03, 2006
Thinking About Katrina
It's a cold rainy day here. One of those days when you don't want to leave the house or move around or do anything much but hide under the covers. Well, maybe not you, but me certainly.
I'm trying to have a do nothing day, but I really stink at doing that. I'm going to keep trying. I have my appointment with the surgeon on Monday, so I'm trying not to think about that either. I just called a bunch of people to come over for an election party. It's supposed to be cold and stormy that night, too, so I've just called those living close by. I'm hoping we have something to celebrate. I'm remembering in New Orleans that they re-elected Ray Nagin after Katrina. Now I wasn't there, but from the bizillions things I read about Katrina and New Orleans, Nagin was incompetent—maybe even criminally negligent. He's blamed just about everybody but himself for what happened in New Orleans. It seems clear to me that he either didn't care about poor people or he was clueless beyond imagining. So I hope the rest of the country doesn't keep re-electing those who don't care about the welfare of the people they represent.
I've been looking up more things about Katrina. I've finished the book, my publisher has it (and will make a decision November 16), but I gave them my second draft and I want to do some more rewriting, one way or another. So I was looking at some "final" statistics.
Most of the people who died came from Orleans parish, second highest was St. Bernard's parish. Orleans parish is 67% black, I believe, and St. Bernard is 88% white. (I'm remembering that stat so it could be wrong.) 1,464 people died as a result of Hurricane Katrina. 56% of those who died were African American, 40% Caucasian, 18% Hispanic, 4% Native American, 4% Asian/Pacific Islander, 11% unknown/other. 52% were male, 48% were female. 14% were under 20 years old, 34% were between the ages of 21 and 64, 65% were over the age of 64. 270 of those who perished were over the age of 81.
Apparently many of the elderly who died thought they could ride out the storm because they had ridden out so many other storms.
I'm at a loss for words. So I'll quote Ruby. She was talking about Atlantis, wondering whether it existed or not, and she said, "I do think just about anything can get buried by mud, muck, water, or neglect." Same thing could be said about Louisiana and Mississippi. Same thing could be said about any place, I suppose.
May those who died rest in peace and those who survived live in peace. 0 comments
I'm trying to have a do nothing day, but I really stink at doing that. I'm going to keep trying. I have my appointment with the surgeon on Monday, so I'm trying not to think about that either. I just called a bunch of people to come over for an election party. It's supposed to be cold and stormy that night, too, so I've just called those living close by. I'm hoping we have something to celebrate. I'm remembering in New Orleans that they re-elected Ray Nagin after Katrina. Now I wasn't there, but from the bizillions things I read about Katrina and New Orleans, Nagin was incompetent—maybe even criminally negligent. He's blamed just about everybody but himself for what happened in New Orleans. It seems clear to me that he either didn't care about poor people or he was clueless beyond imagining. So I hope the rest of the country doesn't keep re-electing those who don't care about the welfare of the people they represent.
I've been looking up more things about Katrina. I've finished the book, my publisher has it (and will make a decision November 16), but I gave them my second draft and I want to do some more rewriting, one way or another. So I was looking at some "final" statistics.
Most of the people who died came from Orleans parish, second highest was St. Bernard's parish. Orleans parish is 67% black, I believe, and St. Bernard is 88% white. (I'm remembering that stat so it could be wrong.) 1,464 people died as a result of Hurricane Katrina. 56% of those who died were African American, 40% Caucasian, 18% Hispanic, 4% Native American, 4% Asian/Pacific Islander, 11% unknown/other. 52% were male, 48% were female. 14% were under 20 years old, 34% were between the ages of 21 and 64, 65% were over the age of 64. 270 of those who perished were over the age of 81.
Apparently many of the elderly who died thought they could ride out the storm because they had ridden out so many other storms.
I'm at a loss for words. So I'll quote Ruby. She was talking about Atlantis, wondering whether it existed or not, and she said, "I do think just about anything can get buried by mud, muck, water, or neglect." Same thing could be said about Louisiana and Mississippi. Same thing could be said about any place, I suppose.
May those who died rest in peace and those who survived live in peace. 0 comments
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Made Me Cry Too
Elections secure? Hah!!!! I thought I knew about election tampering, election fraud, election screw-ups. I didn't no nuthin' about nuthin'. Watch HBO's Hacking Democracy.
And then go out and vote anyway. 0 comments
And then go out and vote anyway. 0 comments
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Wrong Apologizer and the Wrong Apology
Kerry should not have apologized. He didn't say anything wrong. He was insulting Bush, not the troops. The Dems should apologize for rolling over every time the Repulsicans claim they've been offended. Kerry shouldn't apologize for a slip of the tongue when Bush and the Repulsicans have sent men and women off to die for a lie, for taking away our civil rights, for allowing torture. It's all so wrong.
Must, must, must listen to Keith Olbermann. I feel like he's channeling what I'm feeling. Wow, wow, wow. Here's the transcript and another video. I've never heard anything like this in my life. 1 comments
Must, must, must listen to Keith Olbermann. I feel like he's channeling what I'm feeling. Wow, wow, wow. Here's the transcript and another video. I've never heard anything like this in my life. 1 comments
How'd They Do That?
Okay, I know it's television, but it's still amazing.
0 commentsAll photographs and written material copyright © 2003-2008 by Kim Antieau unless otherwise indicated. May not be used without permission.
