Good news is that we finally got our macbook pro!! Bad news is its going to take us some time to learn to use it. I can see how its easier but, I've been a pc guy for so long.. got to learn to think differently. To make matters worse we don't have internet access at the house so I'm still tied to our local library (thankfully they have free internet).
Thats all for now.. pictures and poetry later.
Blessed Be
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Man I miss Internet access from home
Well I posted a new exerpt from one of Rumi's Poems we sang at camp (see upper right of page)
Loved this year at camp.
Here are a few other chants we learned
Should be picking up a macbook pro soon!!
I'm running short of time here on the library connection so I haven't sourced everything. Will get back to it ASAP.
Blessed Be and enjoy
"If the people lived their lives as if it were a song, for singing out of light.
Provides the music for the stars to be dancing circles in the night"
"Forget your perfect offerings
ring the bells that still can ring
there is a crack in everything
thats how the light gets in"
~~ Leonard Cohen
Loved this year at camp.
Here are a few other chants we learned
Should be picking up a macbook pro soon!!
I'm running short of time here on the library connection so I haven't sourced everything. Will get back to it ASAP.
Blessed Be and enjoy
"If the people lived their lives as if it were a song, for singing out of light.
Provides the music for the stars to be dancing circles in the night"
"Forget your perfect offerings
ring the bells that still can ring
there is a crack in everything
thats how the light gets in"
~~ Leonard Cohen
Saturday, September 5, 2009
VWC 2009 Awesome
Well we made it back from VT witch camp and what an awesome time it was.
I wrote some poetry and learned some new chants.
I'm at the library now as we don't have Internet at our current home base. Will type one of the poems and add the other later as well as the chants.
What's Hidden
by Don Scroggins @ VWC 2009
The sun breaks over the mist-covered mountains
all the woes of yesterday forgotten as the suns promise of renewal shines
The tall, glistening trees, leaves shading bits of the forest floor
Is this darkness to be feared?
Is it only hiding wondrous secrets yet to be revealed?
Here comes the wind, whispering and revealing the wonders of the air.
What marvels does it hold?
The previous darkness is suddenly unveiled.
In the distance a babbling brook exudes it's energy to change the forest yet again.
AHH,
Water rushing headlong to a distant ocean, drawn by the moon tides.
What can be learned from these ancient ones?
How can we be more like them?
For we ARE nature, we have only forgotten how to BE instead of trying to control her
I wrote some poetry and learned some new chants.
I'm at the library now as we don't have Internet at our current home base. Will type one of the poems and add the other later as well as the chants.
What's Hidden
by Don Scroggins @ VWC 2009
The sun breaks over the mist-covered mountains
all the woes of yesterday forgotten as the suns promise of renewal shines
The tall, glistening trees, leaves shading bits of the forest floor
Is this darkness to be feared?
Is it only hiding wondrous secrets yet to be revealed?
Here comes the wind, whispering and revealing the wonders of the air.
What marvels does it hold?
The previous darkness is suddenly unveiled.
In the distance a babbling brook exudes it's energy to change the forest yet again.
AHH,
Water rushing headlong to a distant ocean, drawn by the moon tides.
What can be learned from these ancient ones?
How can we be more like them?
For we ARE nature, we have only forgotten how to BE instead of trying to control her
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Hiatus -- Hopefully short
Well We been working our butts of getting all our accumulated belongings packed up. D-day is about to arrive. We are suppose to close on Tuesday and leave for VT on Wednesday morning early (like 3 am early). We've still got a good deal of work to do but now it looks doable.
Helen and I likely won't be posting for the foreseeable future as we soon will be homeless and with no computer/internet. Fear not though.. I'm sure we'll be purchasing a lappy soon and hitting the McDonalds, library, or whoever has free wi-fi :)
Helen and I likely won't be posting for the foreseeable future as we soon will be homeless and with no computer/internet. Fear not though.. I'm sure we'll be purchasing a lappy soon and hitting the McDonalds, library, or whoever has free wi-fi :)
thoughts on "Reflections" post
I must admit that I LOVE Poe's works. He was known to lapse into
flights of fancy, often leaving the reader wondering WTF he is talking about .. but still.
His literary talent, and vivid imagery are rarely equaled today, even by those who find themselves in
an opiate utopia.
A dream within a dream is one of my favorite Poe Poems.. it makes one ponder.
How do we know what's real and what is only imagined? Why do we struggle to make this distinction?
How or why is the answer relevant? Are these perceptions molded by our cultural norms?
If our "reality" is truly shaped by our individual experiences, then wouldn't dreams be part of that
reality?
If we are all tied together in the "collective unconcious" or Gaian Mind wouldn't one be able to change
their own or another's reality through the use of magic?
"Magick is the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will." Crowley
if so how would this effect the person whos will (reality) has been changed. Would they know it had
occured?
In talking about energies we say we have the right to manipulate it to our will and that if we fail to
do so it can harm us.
"A Witch has the right and the obligation to control her/his environment." (author unknown)
What about the will of others?
Food for Though
flights of fancy, often leaving the reader wondering WTF he is talking about .. but still.
His literary talent, and vivid imagery are rarely equaled today, even by those who find themselves in
an opiate utopia.
A dream within a dream is one of my favorite Poe Poems.. it makes one ponder.
How do we know what's real and what is only imagined? Why do we struggle to make this distinction?
How or why is the answer relevant? Are these perceptions molded by our cultural norms?
If our "reality" is truly shaped by our individual experiences, then wouldn't dreams be part of that
reality?
If we are all tied together in the "collective unconcious" or Gaian Mind wouldn't one be able to change
their own or another's reality through the use of magic?
"Magick is the Science and Art of causing Change to occur in conformity with Will." Crowley
if so how would this effect the person whos will (reality) has been changed. Would they know it had
occured?
In talking about energies we say we have the right to manipulate it to our will and that if we fail to
do so it can harm us.
"A Witch has the right and the obligation to control her/his environment." (author unknown)
What about the will of others?
Food for Though
Friday, August 7, 2009
Reflections
A dream Within A Dream
E.A. Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less _gone_?
_All_ that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
_One_ from the pitiless wave?
Is _all_ that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
More Poe can be found here
E.A. Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less _gone_?
_All_ that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
_One_ from the pitiless wave?
Is _all_ that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
More Poe can be found here
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Blessed Lammas
"Lammas marks the middle of summer and beginning of the harvest season. Lammas is considered a time of thanksgiving and is the first of the three Pagan harvest festivals. The Sun's strength begins to wane and the plants of spring begin to wither and drop their fruits or seeds to ensure future crops."
Lammas has arrived and its time to start enjoying the fruits of our labor, but its not time to let up as this is only the first of the harvest. Now is the time to start preparing for the hard winter ahead. But do take some time to enjoy whats come to frutation.
The goddess has been good to us this Lammas season. We've worked our butts off to get our house in order and keep it clean for prospective buyers. It finally paid off!! Thursday evening our agent came by with paperwork to sign and tell us closing is on the 18th.. Perfect, as we're leaving for VT in the wee hours of the 19th!!
Ceres is the goddess I choose to look to for this holiday as she is the goddess of grain. A statue of her sits atop our lovely VT State Capitol Building.
I'll also leave you with my favorite harvest song and a poem..
and the lyrics:
Harvest Chant .. Starhawk
Our hands will work for peace and justice
Our hands will work to heal the land
Gather 'round the harvest table
Let us feast and bless the land
Under the Harvest Moon by Carl Sandburg
Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.
Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.
Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.
May you never hunger, may you never thirst
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