Trying my hand

So I made some kind of a vague attempt at being all crafty a bit ago. Here's the result:

I didn't make the copper tree; that's a beautiful creation by my far more talented and awesome father-in-law, Carter. He still lives up in Maine, and is now (temporarily?) semi-retired. He's been making things like this since the dawn of time to the best of my knowledge, and while he sells them in some stores up in Maine, if you live elsewhere you can check out his wares by visiting his site, CopperTree Sculptures. His talent is unquestionable, and if you want to support a small home business made by an awesome dude (love ya, Caahh-tahh!), I highly suggest you go poke around there.

I don't know why I felt compelled to make this. It isn't as attractive as it could be, not great, but it's neat, I think. I'm proud of myself for it. It's not pretty, or professional, but it's me, and I made it, and that makes it more me. I wish it was super-awesome-shiny-pretty-cool, and it isn't, but it's neat to me and I think I did a good job. :)

Pagan values month - an outro

Well, June is almost over, and that means that Pagan Values Month is nearly at an end as well. Of course, this doesn't mean that we're all going to go crazy on you, but I think it does unfortunately imply that a lot of people are going to start glossing over the similarities of our collective values and morals again. I think that PVM has made a huge impact on the outer world, and has helped us gather ourselves together to show that while we all believe something slightly (or incredibly) different, in the end we all feel that there are many supposedly Christian-only moral issues that we established on our own, without the influence of any other religion (or maybe any religion at all).

The fact of the matter is, we're human. Intrinsically, we want to follow certain rules. We're hardwired to make our species continue, which means that we're meant to feel bad when we kill. That death was the end of another human life. 99.9% of the human race doesn't need any deity or religious path to realize as much. We are simply meant to feel bad or guilty about some things - and while some may argue it's the voice of the Christian god speaking up to show us right from wrong, let's face it, it's our conscious and it's an important part of ourselves and who we are. People of all religions have one, it's a uniquely human trait, and that's something we should take pride in.

So what have I personally learned from PVM? A lot of things. I've learned that I will never stop learning about this path, that what I think is perfect and right one day might be completely off kilter for me the next. I've learned that many Pagans from all walks of life and chosen paths feel differently about a number of issues, but that at our cores we all have a similar respect for life and property that is not unique to only members of other more "mainstream" religions. I have learned that there are just as many of our ilk who are able to be hateful and spout some horrific things as there are Christians who do the same, and that there are a number of kind, open-armed Christians who truly do respect their Pagan kin. I've learned that the bad always finds a way to speak more loudly than the good, but that if you're willing to look deep enough, the good shines so brightly you'll wonder how on earth you missed it. I've learned that I have a direction to walk, but that the path isn't very defined, and that learning to recognize how this path looks to me is something that only I can do, but that I can also ask for help and direction along the way without needing to feel as though I'm asking someone else to tell me what I believe.

I've learned that being Pagan means being myself, which is probably the best thing of all.

Tomorrow, a special announcement and a challenge - think you're up for it?

Bullying

This is a topic near and dear to my heart. As an overweight woman who has been big her entire life - as someone who is making an active and conscious attempt to lose weight, despite the difficulties - I've heard the nasty comments and bad words. I've often worried that my children will someday come into contact with cruelty from other children, especially since (for the time being) we plan to utilize the public school system. And of course, it's a possibility. Children can say some pretty mean things, and sometimes they don't think about the immediate repercussions (like a classmate's reaction, or a friend's feelings) before speaking. Sometimes it's an innocent slip or a thoughtless gaffe; more often than not, anymore, it's conscious meanness meant to demean the feelings, thoughts, abilities, looks, or beliefs of another person.

It's easy enough to pass along Biblical proverbs to children whose families adhere to those religions, easy enough to quote religious texts of any kind - but what does a pagan parent say to their kids without trying to give a separate lesson on religion to a young child who may be experiencing bullying (or worse, may be the bully). What am I to do when I can't quote Christ or a disciple easily because my children haven't grown up in that lifestyle, and aren't familiar with the people and characters and stories I know from my experiences?

I know that first of all, there's common sense. While there are a number of religions that have done their best to claim the Golden Rule, Christianity among them, I believe it's a rule that has been around much longer. From the days of bartering for goods, people have understood that in order to get what's best for them, they have to be willing to sacrifice a bit for others - which means being willing and ready to treat others as they'd like to be treated. A family might give up a cow for less produce than it is worth, with the understanding that because they were kind, next time the produce farmer might give a bit more for a little less milk or meat than usual. It's an understood part of life, in my opinion, but a concept that's hard to explain to a young child who isn't having that same treatment returned to them. It's easy to say, but I know from experience it isn't so easy to DO, especially if physical violence becomes a part of it (at which point I intend to raise my children the same way I was raised: you may NEVER throw the first punch, and you are expected to find alternate routes to end the confrontation, but if you seriously feel you have no other option but to fight back, do so minimally to escape).

So now I'm looking for common sense, kid-friendly ways to explain how to deter bullies. I'm new at this parenting thing still, and I don't expect to encounter this for another few years yet, but I want to have an idea of what to do and how to say it when the time comes. Any pagan parents out there have any recommendations, books, things they've said/done that helped their kids that they want to share?

My husband is a kitchen witch

Food, in our house, is special.

This isn't just because we're all fat people who like to eat (which is no less true), but because it's something that sees a deal of care taken during preparation. Hubby is an accomplished cook; though he has no serious training in cooking, I'd go as far as calling him a chef. He obsesses over herbs, how much we have, how fresh they are. He knows his spices, and adds by smell or taste, often using recipes only as bases for what he turns into his own concoctions. Rarely does he follow something exactly; everything, for him, is simply a suggestion or a place to start. And everything he does is with a sort of odd concern and carefulness that most people would reserve for things like neurosurgery or microchip construction.

I always sort of mocked him, playfully, for the care he takes in scraping down the ceramic surface of the stove, for pre-arranging his spices, for putting a jade figurine he calls his kitchen goddess over the stove in every place we've lived. One year, for his birthday, I gave him a moleskin book with a plain round binding, full of 1/4" graph paper, that has become a well-worn book we teasingly call his bible. It lives in the kitchen, partially full of his writings on the gaming worlds in his head, and partially a sort of ritual manual of recipes he has created or found and tweaked - sauces, stir fry combinations, brownies, cakes, breads, meatballs, pancakes. It seems like an endless menagerie of things, but he knows where every recipe is located and what every pencil-scribble says, even when it's so well-worn and loved that I can't even begin to decipher the things he's jotted down. Some of it even seems to be stream of consciousness, a combination of ingredients that came to him one night in a dream and that needed so desperately to be put to paper lest time and fate drag those sweet (or sour) words away.

We called him a kitchen witch because it seemed fitting, because he has an apron and calls the kitchen his. He's always claimed that somehow food talks to him, and I'd believe it - the man can sense a burning pan before anyone else can smell it, he knows something's done even when there's time left on the clock, knows food needs to be turned. It's almost off-putting, when he jumps out of his seat and informs me, "The food's yelling at me." At first it was odd, but I've grown used to - even fond of - this quirk of his. He isn't kidding, it seems; he's never wrong, never off. If he says something needs to be done, it does. It never makes sense to me - I follow recipes, don't dare substitute, and follow prescribed cooking times to a T. I can't do what he can.

So while wandering online, I found an article on About.com highlighting Kitchen Witchery, and with a delighted giggle I forward the link on to Hubby to read, sure that I was really doing no more than poking fun at him again (as he's a self-described agnostic with no real religious or spiritual leaning, other than an apparent belief in an afterlife and past lives - and mind you, there is nothing wrong with that!), but as he read it over he grew silent.

"You know," he mused aloud as he glanced back at me once he was finished, "the funny thing is, I do all of that."

For him, food and cooking are a spiritual journey in and of themselves.