So I moved from Pennsylvania to Oregon. Since I have been here, we’ve had tripple digit heat and zero rain. Yes I know it’s July, but it’s rained EVERY day I’ve been gone in the town I moved from in Pennsylvania. What’s up with that??? Bring me the rain!!!
So… I had to go to the doctor today. Joy. (not). This was a new doctor for me, and as such, I had the requisite 9 million pages of medical history and insurance information to fill out. On the top of the medical history form, they asked my religion. Apparently I was feeling brave and so I put Pagan. Typically, I’ll say None, or Other.
The first thing this doctor said was upon walking in the exam room was: What’s Pagan?
Zuh??
So, I proceeded to trip over myself to explain Paganism to him. I think I assumed that he knew it wasn’t Satanism. Or Idolatry, or something made exclusively for Hollywood. He didn’t know that - and then there was much back pedaling.
So, For Doctor Prin, since I am sure I forgot stuff:
Pratciners of Wicca are called Witches. Even the boys.
I am not Wiccan, I am Pagan.
Pagan is to Wicca what Christianity is to Catholicism
I belong to a church in York that is mostly Pagan.
Druids, Wiccans, Cerimonal Magicians and a whole lot of others typically fall into the Pagan umbrella.
I am not personally a big follower of a specific pantheon, but there are those who worship the Ancient Greek, Roman, Hindu, Egyptian pantheons, among others. Yes, seriously.
Yes, I do believe in God…and the Goddess (the look on his face was PRICELESS)
No we do not sacrifice babies…or anything else.
Yes, sometimes we wear costumes, but then, so do priests and the pope.
Wanna know more? Read anything by Scott Cunningham. He’s a good white-lighter.
There aren’t many. After the Spoutwood Fairie Festival and FaerieCon, I’ve seen my share of fairy paraphernalia. The only real boy fairy art I have seen was found by Raven and is called Dusk by Shelia Wolk. There are always ambiguous baby fairies too, but that’s not the same. What if Bear or Bolt wants a fairy statue or poster or whatever?
Gene Roddenberry went to his grave, telling stories that, although they supposedly happened light years away, were relevant to our every day lives. From the beginning, he claimed that the characters and races on Star Trek were parallels for people here on Earth. Little did anyone know that the characters were actually taking on traits of Neo-Pagan sects across the country! Was Gene Pagan? Who knows, but sit back and enjoy this little trip, where no Pagan has gone before…
The Federation means well. They let just about everybody into their little social club, so long as they agree to play nice. They don’t talk about rules much, but keep referring to one Prime Directive that all other laws are based on. That said, they frequently violate that rule when the need suits them. Often heard speaking in various UK accents, even though they’re not from the islands (Et tu, Jean-Luc?)
Obsessed with honor and combat. Have no qualms with eating meat and eat it with obvious relish. Insist they did everything first (”But Hamlet is so much better in the original Klingon.”) And who wants Klingon opera, when you can have Wagner’s Die Neibelung?
Have you ever heard someone say, “Excuse, I was reading this and wanted to tell you: “anal retentive” has a hyphen in it.”? Everything is very orderly in their universe. No room for untidy things like emotions and the like.
You cannot separate the Bajorans from their faith. Religion permeates the very air they breathe. Although this should be a unifying force on their devastated environment, they are constantly fighting with one another. Like many other races, they are subject to charismatic leaders.
Profoundly psychic when you don’t want them to be; dense as a rock (crystal) when you actually need some help. Spend an awful lot of time talking about “vibes” and are perpetually concerned with how others feel. If they weren’t so damn cute, you’d just want to smack them. You only see the women of this race.
Numbers are everything, don’t you know. Can loudly pronounce a given number (93!) and have people laugh at it like it was a punch line. Draws all sorts of really interesting links between things based on the numerological significance. Socially uncouth. The only difference between the Binars and numerologists is that Binars have mates that understand them.
A long time ago, a race decided to sluff off all their evil, mean and nasty emotions. They physically excreted these emotions into a big pile of black ooze. The race bailed off the planet, leaving the ooze which, over time, became sentient… sort of, and delights in causing fear and pain in others.
Imagine a planet where women are in charge! It is a wonderful, peaceful place. Everyone gets along all the time and no one ever goes hungry. Yeah, right. Behind the facade of perfect love and perfect trust and gyno-unity, there is an iron fist in that velvet glove. And, surprise, surprise, the gynarchy is subject to the same power struggles and in-fighting that the rest of us are.
I know I’m speaking English, and I know that they are speaking English. However, sometimes, you just can’t seem to understand what these souls are trying to tell you. Although they have something valid and wonderful to share with the Federation, what they have to say is mired in a language that excludes more than it includes. Fnord.
Resistance is futile, you will be assimilated. Your history and beliefs will become part of the Borg Collective, where they will be watered down and spread out evenly between everyone in our race. Lower your shields and hand over your money; resistance is futile.
taken from http://www.ecauldron.com
I was drawn to the magic place, where the veil thins and over the babble of the creek, you can hear the fairies laugh. I came 15 years after the whole thing started. I was hardly the first. Certianly not the last. I stood in the Royal Meadow with my infant son when the Greenman called the corners and welcomed the Spring. I was enchanted.
I returned to the magic place, where invisible wings and hand carved flutes stir the breeze. I wanted that peace that graced the trees. My expectations were high. I had walked here before. I stood by the house with my infant son and watched the fairies transform to lumbermen and EMTs. I was enthralled.
I crave the magic place, where the bounty of Earth springs forth and bears joy by it’s very existence. I found peace and joy and each of the 7 blessings. You can touch them. They dance in the water and wind. I walked from field to farm, bearing fruits of labor to share and partake. I was euphoric.
And like every perfect thing, this too must end. Brought by the politics of the fairies themselves, the circle is closed. The May Pole stands still, testament to what was. I will harvest the land. The magic in that shall last. The magic that drew me, however, has proved fleeting. I will not play the games of bureaucrats and nobility. They can have their Court and their Ball. My sons and I will find another path.
So, I’m waiting for some manner of convergence. It’s Ostara (Equinox), the Full Moon, and Good Friday all at once and I think I am waiting for some manner of energy to es’plode or something. I’ve been totally, 100% unable to do anything about it myself, except maybe watch it pass by. But I was looking forward to the watching.
Wee Bear was up all night, first time he’s done that in MONTHS, and I’m a little bit convinced that he knew something was afoot. Being 14 ½ months old, he wasn’t not super-good at expressing this, but he tried.
So, barring, WB’s fits last night, I’ve been rather disappointed on the whole power surge I was expecting. I guess there’s still time, but I coulda sworn it was going to be last night or nothing. I really was not expecting nothing. Maybe if I manage to pull my head above water on this whole ‘going crazy’ thing, then I will go and check things out for myself. As much fun at it is to watch things explode, its best to find out ahead of time if the cloud is mushroom-shaped.
Everyone has it. Some people won’t admit it, but it’s there. Whether you are a redneck hick from Appalachia or a black dyke from San Francisco. Ugh, I could barely type that. What can we do to combat our own internalized bias? If Knowing Is Half the Battle, is it enough? Interestingly, redneck hick is much easier to type than black dyke. I COULD NOT type a worse euphemism than that. I tried. That says a lot about my bias, I think. I can more easily slur white, poorly educated folk than I can black gay people. A bit of reverse discrimination.
My two biggest ‘groups’ that I tend to discriminate against are Bigots and Christians. It is fairly PC these days to discriminate against Bigots, first since being biggoted is more of a choice than being a minority, disabled or gay is. Also, the conception is that the Bigots held the power for the longest time and now us liberated folk are seeking our revenge. However, in the interest of tolerance for all…aren’t bigots entitled to their opinion like the rest?
Christians too. Yeah, I’m sorry if there are any Christians among the 7 people who know about this blog, but that’s how it is. And obviously I can’t discriminate agaisnt ALL Christians, or else I would not talk to 75% of the people in this country, my family among them. But in the whole ‘getting to know you’ stages of any personal relationship, if it comes out that you are Christian, it’s a mark against you. This is one of the things I have the hardest time with. It’s not that I don’t like Christianity in general. The Bible has a lot of wisdom, more so than any other book I have read. So then it boils down to interpretation and execution. I have my opinions on the Bible, but since Christianity is not a religion I practice, they aren’t really relevant. Kinda like my opinions on the Koran. I have had some downright awful experiences with those who did what they did either in the name of Christianity or simply doing evil things while identifying as Christian. I guess that first group is more of an issue. If you spew hatred and fear and ignorance, you are NOT Christian. Hear that, Pastor Grove? The second just boils down to the fact that any group has people who identify as members, but in reality are anything but. Also known as Fluffy Bunnies.
I should add that I have known a few (ok, several) Christians who live the tenets they preach. They have an open-mindedness that is comforting. Gives me hope.
So…how can I overcome these biases? That IS the goal, is it not? Maybe I should learn to turn the other cheek? *is run over by the irony*
I have *always* known that I do not DO confrontation. I would rather jump out of an airplane than confront the person who curses me out in the store for whatever trivial offense someone committed. It’s not that I *can’t* stand up for myself, I just don’t. Unless you are my Mr. Ink, and then I will argue insignificant and trite things with you all day long.
In my somewhat successful attempt to psycho-analyze myself on this issue, I follow this train of thought. Confrontation = standing up for myself, which not everyone will agree with. So if someone doesn’t agree with me, they might get offended, or WORSE, I might be seen as rude (a grave sin, my mother assures me).
Confrontation also works better with practice and I have not had a great deal of practice talking in general. The first time I ever spoke up in school voluntarily was as a freshman in college. I don’t know that I suck at it (I hope not all the time) but I am certainly less than good at it. I am usually happy at living in my head, with minimal interference from the outside world.
Also, for those who don’t know me, I speak with a stutter, which does not help my cause any. In most debates, it is important to at least make a clear, concise point. Try doing that when it takes 10 seconds to say the word ‘What’. Really. 10 seconds. Stop right now and TRY taking 10 seconds to say 1 syllable. I’m not saying this happens every time I talk, but it happens often enough that it is prohibitive from getting me to voice my opinion in a crowd.
So far we have me scared to be rude, out of practice and very often physically incapable of speaking fluently. Though really, if I could fix the first one, the second would come in time, and people can just deal with the third.
The inspiration for this entry is Mr. Ink. Who is my hero for many reasons, one being that he is absolutely unafraid to say what he thinks to whoever is before him, all else be damned. Today he did something I consider truly heroic… he went to the home/place of business of a former associate. One with whom we had a grave falling out with. He did this with no build up, or air of concern or really much thought to how the meeting would go. He was able in 20 minutes to re-establish the relationship (or at least the beginnings of it). I would have fretted about such a meeting for a week, gone in, tripped and tumbled over every third word that I spoke and when nothing good came of the event, gone to my car to cry. Very sad.
And then there was today. Awoke to find the house guests that we have sheltered for 3 months swindled us out of $700 and an XBox. WTF doesn’t really begin to cover it. All in the name of Christianity, these people were thrown out on their asses, fired from their jobs and left disabled with no place to live. So we took them in. Through the legal trouble, the local constable knocking on our door, the smoking, the lying, all of it. Now one is off in jail for failure to pay child support, the other has vanished with our cash and our damn gaming console. Is this what happens to those who open their door to the less fortunate? And here I don’t understand why people over the age of 30 are so bitter…it’s called Life, it’ll fuck ya every time. So these poor, noble souls we took in, all the while trying to convert us to be Saved…drunk our booze, swore in front of our kids, stole our money and lied to our faces. In the words of a man wise beyond his years: You fucked with the wrong ass mother fuckers. In-deed.