Tuesday, 5 November 2013

Well PA

Turns out that slow September ended up being very slow, was diagnosed with Pernicious Anemia which probably explains a lot of the MEH. 

I was sleeping about 18 hours a day and feeling really rubbish.  However some vitamin B12 shots and now Folate and Vitamin D are getting back on the mend.  I have been back at work for a few weeks.

Had an awesome Samhain group ritual I had a seizure and came round thinking I had actually crossed the veil, very surreal.  Fot those that  don't wish to get a picture of the afterlife,  look away now, god is MOST definitely a woman and there is whale music.

Digital Samhain Scrap Book - Me with my skull make up and some pictures from the voodoo museum in New Orleans

Close up of the digital faffing down with the photo

Samhain Altar

Wednesday, 4 September 2013

Mercian 2013 & Sloooooow September

Well the Mercian was awesome. V & I camped in the accessible field (due to my unsteady gait). We were right in the middle of everything and consequently managed to do many more talks (British Goddesses, Hare Spirit, Incense Making, Pagan Songs). Also the opening ritual, the shall I / shan't I do the fire maze (we waited for the flames to die down a lot). Later in the evening we listened to Kate and Corwen and then Damh the Bard (both very fabulous). But half way trough Dave's set they started standing up to dance and it had been a really long day so I thought we would be better moving outside the tent. Last thing I remember was clipping my water bottle to my bag. Must have been a complex partial as I was quite happily led outside and collapsed on a man called Martin (who happens to manage a care home so was merrily taking charge). Took a few minutes to get back in the room then he helped V & L get me back to the tent.

Then Saturday we burned the Wicker Man. But went back to the tent to do a private little ritual. Which was lovely.

There is something magical about the Mercian. It makes you slow down. No computers, phone died after the first day and just being cut off from the real world was lovely. Plus the company. I am struggling a lot with not being at work I am an incredibly social creature and extroverts are recharged by being around people. At the moment the cocktail of meds I am on are so sedating I can't actually make it out of the house on my own. But having a circle of friends around me, who didn't mind that I regularly had to has a little nap, was grand.

Sunday we did the inevitable trot round the stalls and I bought a couple of books and a very pretty hare necklace. Kate gave me a private concert of the outlandish knight on one of the medieval instruments and we talked about maybe doing a workshop.

I came back to find that the Creative Beings post for September was 'Slow September'. It's been a prompt of mixed feelings I hate my 'slowness' but a chat with the Susie Fox who did the British Goddesses workshop reminded me as I bought he book and she signed it that illness is often a lesson in disguise and when we have worked out what we're supposed to be learning the ailment or what we need to help us with our ailment will be revealed. So can it be a coincidence that the Mercian ended on 1st September and my appointment for the epilepsy nurse is 2nd September.

Friday, 26 April 2013

NaPoWriMo Prompt 26

Ariel (Sylvia Plath - Erased Jenny Luddington)

        the substanceless blue

How     we grow,
        heels and knees!


               I cannot catch,

Berries      dark

Black sweet      mouthfuls,

Something else

                             air ---
Thighs, hair;


Foam          a glitter of seas.
The child's cry

And I

The dew
              at one with the

Eye,              of morning


Ariel (Sylvia Plath)

Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue
Pour of tor and distances.

God's lioness,
How one we grow,
Pivot of heels and knees! ---The furrow

Splits and passes, sister to
The brown arc
Of the neck I cannot catch,

Berries cast dark
Hooks ---

Black sweet blood mouthfuls,
Something else

Hauls me through air ---
Thighs, hair;
Flakes from my heels.

Godiva, I unpeel ---
Dead hands, dead stringencies.

And now I
Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas.
The child's cry

Melts in the wall.
And I
Am the arrow,

The dew that flies,
Suicidal, at one with the drive
Into the red

Eye, the cauldron of morning.

Tuesday, 16 April 2013

NaPoWriMo Prompt 16

DEK ME TOE (Original)

Zeg me dat het tijd is, zeg me dat ik moe
ben, geef niet toe aan verzet,
geef me een washand, de beer die ik ken,
wijs me een bed, dek me toe,

ruik naar zeep, vertel mij hoe
prinsessen slapen als bij wonder
en verdwijn maar, ga niet te
ver, stop mij onder, dek me toe,

laat mij alleen, strooi in mijn ogen
geen zand, breng geen lied ten
gehore, verzoen mij niet met de nacht,
doe wat ik doe, dek me toe.
© 1996, Paul Bogaert

Dek Me Toe (Tuck me in Jiggly Fruit Translation)

Bedtime is here, bedtime is now
Bed! Good night, time to rest
Get washed and bear at hand
Wish me sleep, tuck me in.

Resisting sleep, veraciously pout
Princesses sleep not, but wander
On ventures, far at night too
Fair! some might wonder, tuck me in?’

Let me allay, stroll in mind again
Get sleep, brought gently, lay down
Before, horizon my night meets the dawn
Don’t waste it doe, tuck me in


And as you have been so very good in reading my mangle the English translation of the very sweet poem

Tell me that it’s time, tell me that
I’m tired, leave all protests unheard,
give me a flannel, the bear I know’s mine,
show me my bed, tuck me in,

smell of soap, tell me how
princesses always sleep soundly
and just vanish, don’t go too
far, cover me up, tuck me in,

leave me alone, don’t throw sand in
my eyes, don’t put on any
song, don’t reconcile me to the night,
do what I do, tuck me in.

© 1996, Paul Bogaert
Publisher: Meulenhoff / Manteau, Amsterdam, 1996
ISBN: 90 223 1417 0
© Translation: 2006, John Irons

NaPoWriMo Prompt 15

'Grown woman pouts because she wants her individually wrapped cinnamon-ny buiscuit'

Coffee house eject us, whole town has lost power.
Now forced to wander aimlessly, in disbelief.
Odysseus' crew munched on the lotus flower.
They wept bitterly when forced to leave.

NaPoWriMo Prompt 14


I was your pristine ivory.
You gave me shape,
Day after day
You chipped away.
Moulded me
Til I became
Your vision
Of ideal womanhood

Frozen, but faithful.
Swathed in velvet,
Bedecked with jewels.
Day after day,
Your fixed gaze
Bored into me.
Retina’s burning
As you yearn
For responsive flesh.

You dragged me
To the temple
Day after day
With reverent prayers,
To Aphrodite
Who granted your wish
Gave me life
But no emotion

In your workshop,
We make love
Day after day,
You sate your lust,
Happy with your
Perfected work.
Soft, living tissue
But my heart

Inside I remain
Cold as ivory.

NaPoWriMo Prompt 13


Sun glints, casting a glamour
Over a grimy old seaside town
I bimble, for I have time to spare.
Time to mentally prepare.
When does walking become a processional?
Is it when you have an act of worship in mind?
Like picnics in the park with Pan.
Or is it that ...
"All acts of love and pleasure are my rituals"
That ambling from the bus stop to the youth centre,
Seems like an act of devotion.