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Now that we are out and about in the Pagan community again, we are needing space to do Pagan things. So after looking at the back space that we only use for compost and storage, I have decided to build a Temple and guesthouse. This is the space as it looks now:
It's pretty rough at the moment, but I think it has the potential to be a really cool and unusual ritual space. I'll post as things progress.
Okay, so it's not NASCAR, or a tractor pull, it's time once again for Pagan & Eggs!
What is P&E, you ask? It is a monthly gathering of Pagans who come together and have brunch and catch up on what's going on in the North Austin area Pagan community.
We met our current batch of peeps when I saw a post pop up on Facebook about a Pagan event. I always check to see where they are, and this one was right down the street, so I decided to give it a try. We went, and met a whole new group of people who were not the angry bitter Pagans who forced us to stop attending anything, because of the backstabbing political maneuvering that goes on. We wanted a group we could hang out with and NOT be hassled by angry glares or outright hostility because we decided to talk to someone not on the 'approved' list. This group definitely fits the bill.They are also mostly a Druid grove, and as I got my start at the Druid College, and lean more towards European shamanism, I am definitely enjoying the discussions. I get SO tired of Wiccans, they can be mind numbingly tedious and very few actually live by the Rede.
With Shawn becoming interested in his Northmen heritage, I have been looking into the Volva, the female shaman/wisewomen of the Norse. The Volva and shamans of the North are very similar to the American Indian shaman, which I think shows yet another possible link to northern Europeans who migrated across the Siberian land bridge.
The behavior and acceptance of this new group has been just what I needed. I was wanting to return to the community, but I did not want to have to face the angry bitter people any more. Just the thought of going to a CMA/ESA/FoG event grits my teeth. And that is sad that I was forced to leave a community where I was one of the original members because of the hate filled people who inhabit it. Luckily most of those persons live south, and we seldom if ever see them at any of our events.
Nearly at the three month mark for Julian calendar year 2015, and I have to say that this has been the best year in a very long time. Major milestones last year, Walker graduating high school with a nearly straight A-B average (Thank you SCORES!) and going off to college, the end (hopefully!) of needing housemates, Shawn's new position at work, my decision to open a Pagan shop again. At the beginning of 2015, I had some very long talks with myself, and took a long look at my life and where it was headed.
I really didn't care for what I was seeing.
My parents lived until they were 84, and were married 62 of those years. Unhappily. Very, very unhappily. I left my first marrige for many reasons, but this one figured heavily into my decision. I did not want to become them. So I dumped my first husband, and began the long climb to regain who I was. With the support of many friends and family, I got better. And then aging set in, and several injuries, and having to deal with parents dying and losing most of my inheritance because I allowed someone to talk me into something that was not financially viable. I began to become angry and bitter again. When I realized I could not return to that state, I started to look around me. So many people I interacted with were the same angry bitter people. I was gravitating to them like an addict to a drug dealer.
So I made myself get out and go to a new Pagan event in the neighborhood. It was the best thing I could have done. I met amazing new people, and saw that it was past time to cut the bitter angry people out of my life. When I did that, I was able to take the time to think about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, now that I had raised my child and sent him off into the world. That led to my decision to open another Pagan shop, since the one on this end of town had closed long ago, and no one wants to shlep down an hour or more to far south Austin. Opening the shop led to people asking about classes and private sessions, and now I am so happily engaged doing the things that I love I have no time to be bitter or angry. Sure, I have bad days like everyone else, but now instead of just letting it steamroll over me, I give it a day or so, and if it doesn't get better, then I look for causes. Usually it is someone I have been interacting with, and once I limit or remove that contact, I get better again. Sometimes it is a situation out of my control, and those times I ride it out as best I can.
Life is good, and onward through the fog!
The Gregorian calendar new year. Meh. The last several days of 2014 have not been the best, with injuries, things broken, and general meh. And a cold wet start as well. Two months into the Pagan new year, and while there have been a few good things, like Shawn finally moving up at work, for the most part it has been a slow spiral down already. I need an updraft!
Over the last couple of months, the realization that my business skills are suck-o-rama has made me rethink what I can do now that my child rearing days are over. The bakery has tanked, and standing out in the freezing cold, rain and blistering sun at a farmer's market to make a whole $20 a week it just not worth it. Since I'm a baker, not a cake decorator, I don't have those big ticket items like wedding cakes. It is too easy to pick up some cheap cookies or what passes for 'artisan' bread in the grocery store/Wal-Mart than to take the time to place an order with me.
The same goes with a Pagan shop, without a brick and mortar in a business area, it is too much hassle for anyone to come into the neighborhood at odd hours to pick up a couple of things which are easily bought online and delivered to their house.
With the house deteriorating and not enough cash to fix it up, we are forced to return to renting out the converted garage space. This entails either putting in a bathroom, which there is no way we can afford that at 15+K, an off grid bathroom, which is inexpensive, but will take a special kind of renter to deal with, or making it a housemate situation, where they use our kitchen and bathroom, not an appealing prospect, as we just got our house back from children, and we do enjoy living alone. A tiny house in the back would be better, but again, the catch-22 of the money to build it. With Austin pretty much staying at 96% occupancy, getting someone in isn't the problem, it is getting someone long term who we can live with. Not that it matters, one way or the other, come spring, we will have someone else living here.
Yea yea, I know, be thankful for a house, food, etc. I am, but I am also a single paycheck away from being homeless, and that is not something I want to experience in my old age. And just surviving is not living. So back to being a landlord, as much as I don't want to, it is better than the alternative.
Reading a Facebook post this morning about Mickey Dolenz top 10 records that changed his life, it got me to thinking about the huge part music has always played in my own life.
I was exposed to music from birth. My parents listened to early Country and Western, in the form of Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys and similar early pioneers on 78, and my father loved old blues. My brother was 16 when I was born in the early 60s, and being the oldest child, was the owner of a record player. His tastes ran to beatnik music like jazz, and 'long hair' music,
which is what lovers of classical music were called during this time period, at least in small town Texas. When he enlisted and went off to the Navy during Viet Nam, his record player became the property of my oldest sister, and a new set of vinyl with a totally new sound appeared: the British Invasion. I was exposed to wild and wicked bands like the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Animals, the Troggs, the Who.
When that sister went off to college, the record player moved down to the next oldest sister, a 60s flower child, so there were the addition of hip and groovy sounds from the hippie and anti war counter culture, angry music from CCR, Cream and the Zombies and the psychedelic slam of the Doors and Hendrix with a sprinkling of more poppish things like the Monkees.
In 8th grade, I met the group of people who became The Group all through high school and a bit of college. They had younger parents than mine, just a bit older than my brother, and this is where I heard such things as Joni Mitchell, Ike and Tina Turner, James Brown and the Stone Poneys. My friends and I began to delve into 70's sounds, Led Zepplin and Pink Floyd and Rush.
Music is a part of my daily life. I listen to everything, and I love hearing new music. Music definitely helped shape and define who I am. Living in Austin I have heard some great music, some good music, and some not so good music, but it was all played with passion and heart, and these things are what makes music such an important part of my life.
The wood fired hot tub was an awesome idea, not so much in practice. After much debate, we decided to sell it. Today it went off to its new home in a clan camp at Sherwood Forest Renaissance Faire. I wish them much enjoyment, and they should be the envy of all the other clans.
I'm hoping to sell my blacksmith's forge to one of the armorers as well, since it is a family heirloom, I want someone who will use it, that's what my grandfather would have wanted. We have begun serious downsizing of our stuff, in preparation for a possible move down the road, if things don't pick up here.
With the sale of the hot tub, we have enough money to stave off a housemate for awhile, and I am back to work in the bakery and my shop space. With luck and determination, I'm hoping to be able to make enough so that we don't have to share the house again. I have yet to come out of a housemate situation without something being broken or stolen. Not sure yet if I'm going straight online, or will be open business hours. Leaning more towards online, that gives me a lot more flexibility to work on bigger projects and maybe travel a bit now that my child rearing days are over. The waiting game is done, time to get moving.
My maternal grandmother was a 16 year old German war bride. I have a feeling she was pushed into marrying my grandfather by her family so she could escape post WWII Germany and the grinding poverty it brought, although Germany has always been considered a fairly poor country. As she died when my mother was 14, we will never know how she felt about being taken away from her family and the only place she knew into a strange new world.
My sister tells a story that was related to her by our mother. Our grandmother would take up our mother when she was a young girl, and tell her "Today we are going to run away." What I knew of my grandfather was that he was a strict but fair man, but I was only 10 when he died. He was fairly well off, they had plenty of food, a nice place to live, and he loved her, but it must not have been enough for her. I don't think she loved him, but again, this is just speculation on my part, from looking at old photos and piecing together the bits and pieces I heard from family members.
I find myself thinking about that simple phrase more and more these days: Today I will run away. I have no where to go, and nothing to support myself with, but depression has been creeping up on me for a while now, and I want to run away. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. A line from the movie The Big Chill also has been in my thoughts lately; "No one ever said it would be fun. At least... no one ever said it to me."
I'm stuck in limbo. I thought after Walker turned 18 and graduated, life would be better, no more school to deal with, no more ex. Child support gone is a problem. Since I am stuck in that place between not being well enough to work, and not being sick enough to get benefits, I'm pretty much screwed. I am dependent on someone to support me, but when that person, no matter how much affection you feel for them, has little ambition and doesn't mind living in lower middle class poverty, it feels like a prison.
Education is pretty much closed to me. I wanted to be an anthropologist. As I sailed along in college when i was younger, I knew at that time I would have to have a PhD, or even a double doc to make it in my chosen field. It seemed to be an obtainable goal at the time. My ex abused me emotionally and psychologically (A fact which he denies to this day, despite the several docs and therapists who have confirmed it.), and I was coerced into quitting school and having a child. Then came the adultery and other things I won't go into here, and eventually the divorce, which he refused to pay the amount child support he was supposed to, and since I was unemployed, I couldn't get a lawyer to fight him, and ended up being screwed over by a cocaine addicted excuse for an attorney. My family refused to help because they thought the ex was wonderful and I was just a crazy ungrateful bitch, and I was on my own. Now, at 50, any degree I can get is all in liberal arts, and worthless, even if I could find the money to go, and still wouldn't be able to work even if I could find a job.
I have no clue what I want to do with the rest of my life. I am a passable chef and baker, but physically unable to work in the food industry. I have artistic leanings, but can't get motivated to write or do much of anything. I suck at business, so that's out. We are probably going to have to deal with a housemate for the rest of our lives, as long as we live in Austin, because without one, we can either pay the house payment, or eat. Running through my head over and over is my sister's voice talking about our grandmother, "Today we will run away." I can't run away, I have 6 cats and 3 dogs, a mortgage that is grinding me into the dirt, thanks to the city of Austin raising taxes and utility costs to the point that the working poor are being forced out of their homes. Like my grandmother, I have a husband who loves me, and does work, but it is no longer enough. I want to run away. I do not know to where, or what I would even do when I got there, maybe I would just keep running. But today, and every day for some time now, I want to run away. I don't see that changing. Maybe this was why my mother was such a hateful bitter woman. Maybe she wanted to run away, and never could get up the courage, energy, or whatever it would take. I don't want to be her, but I find myself slipping into that role more and more with every passing day. Is this my life for the next 30+ years?
Now I understand you Grandmother. I understand on a level I never did before. Today I want to run away. Away from my falling apart house, my boring life of unending housework and poverty. Away from the filth that springs up almost like magic. (Nothing like vacuuming and turning from putting up the vacuum cleaner to see a double fist sized hair and dirt tumbleweed that was NOT there the minute before.) Away from this city that has become an extension of the California nanny state in nearly every way. Away from being sick and unable to afford to see a doctor despite having insurance, or even find one who is interested in treating people, not pushing pills to get an easy fat paycheck. (Do they even exist any more?) Just away.
