New Year's Resolution

I resolve:

To snuggle my silly little dog to pieces.

To tell everyone I love that I LOVE him or her.

To make every moment that I have left a celebration.

To, most certainly, not hate myself in every way for every day.

To not care how many resolutions I make, but instead to care about KEEPING them.

--------

As a rule, I have always made fun of and sort of disliked New Years- many of you know that I usually spend it with dogs.  Not even kidding.  My poor opinion of the holiday has a lot to do with it's arbitrary nature.  What is the Gregorian Calendar to dictate the newness of years to us??  For witches, the New Year begins at Samhain- so how does one, how do I, reconcile all of this??  What is one day, any day out of the year?

All days are important, aren't they?  And shouldn't they all be equally important?  See above, but shouldn't everyday be a celebration?

Every day should be a celebration.

Every day should bring new-found resolve and grace.  I am not even close to being the one who can talk, I know how hypocritical I am (see basically any other blog post for more on that).  But here I am, alone with the dogs on another New Years Eve; sitting in front of the first wood fire I built solely by myself (yes, I recognize the sadness of that factoid); thinking about all of the people I love and all of the days I have to love them, all of the ways I have to love them.

So I guess this eve of the new year is a little different for me- or maybe this new (Gregorian) year will be a little different for me.

Happy New Year, all.

I love you.  I love you all.

Songs- A Christmas Link-fest

There are songs that always get to me.  All the time.

And every year at Christmas, I am reminded of a number of them.  These are the songs that break my heart; the songs that make me grateful for who and what I have around me but desperately sad for the eventual loss of those same people and things.

Any, absolutely ANY version of this song makes me cry.  I don't care if it's Coldplay's haunting piano, Judy Garland's wobbling vocals, or Kelly Clarkson's holiday pop… the song makes me cry.  Forget about Cat Power's version for Apple… HYAMLC forcefully reminds me of every single person who has lost.  It reminds me of just how very lucky I truly am.

Ave Maria.

Let me explain.  It has been an almost unbelievably long time since I have bought into any major organized religion, including the Catholicism in which I was raised.  But Chris Cornell's rendition of this seasonal masterpiece brutalizes my soul in an equally erotic and religious way.  Whenever I hear that song, I am reminded of a quote from Jeff Buckley his, describing his version of Leonard Cohen's 'Hallelujah' as 'the Hallelujah of Orgasm.'

If that is sacrilege, so be it.

Speaking of which, it's not even remotely related to Christmas but it does get to me.  It's the sigh at the beginning.  Listen carefully.

Silent Night makes me simultaneously happy and sad.  Happy because it reminds me always of my childhood and good Holidays and wonderful, perfect Christmas'.  Sad because it also reminds me always of what I have lost by growing up.  Good bye, Santa.  Good bye, faith.  For now I have doubt- a gift for which I am profoundly grateful, but occasionally over which I am still somewhat jaded.

Few people have heard this classic from Emerson, Lake, and Palmer.  But during the two Christmases I spent in China- and every lukewarm, mild, rainy, dreary Christmas before or since- this song essentially set the tone.  Holidays are exactly what we make of them.

Hallelujah, Noel- be it Heaven or Hell- the Christmas we get we deserve.

xoxo, and Until Next Time.

The Shortest Day, Saddest Day

I have written a lot, over the years, about my witchcraft.

Stags, Kings, other Beautiful Things.

Belief in nature, how the natural world believes in me.

So today is a particularly bittersweet day in the world of witches.  It is Yule; the Winter Solstice; the shortest day of sunlight this year, the longest time for the night.

It is the second day during which the Oak and Holly Kings do battle.  And on this solstice, the Oak King will win, thus ushering in the lighter half of the year.  It does not always make sense- that Oak is associated with winter months instead of Holly, a traditionally winter plant.  But consider this- the winter months signal the longer days- the growth of light and with it the growing seasons, seasons of plenty.

It is only natural that my beloved Holly King dies today, relinquishing his throne.  I have always gravitated toward Holly because of his connection to the fall, the quiet months of introspection and intuition.  But now he bows to the light so that there may be that growth of the light months.  His grace in death allows for legacy, tradition, and continuation.  The world can be because he dies.

So tonight we both mourn and celebrate.  Tonight we pay our respects to the dying King and welcome with respect the newly reborn King.

Tonight is the night for fires and planning.  Tonight is the night for mischief and witchery.

Tonight is the night for night.

Happy Yule.

Ceviche

Believe it or not, today I took my first foray into Mexico.  I know, I know...  You are thinking that with all of this travel, all of this history of movement under my belt... and the fact that it's Mexico and not so far away in the grand scheme of things... How could this be her first time?!?  Especially considering the lengths I regularly go to in order to escape and go Go GO!

But it's true.  This gal can finally claim having been to Central America.

Granted, after hearing stories about drug-filled cadavers; gang shootings and rapes; jail, jail, jail,... it almost did not happen.  In fact a sense of doom had plum settled on me by the time we got in the car this morning.  Death! Destruction! White Slavery! Montezuma's Revenge! Who knows what fate awaits me, I thought, but it cannot be a good one!  My mantra on the way south went a little like this:

"Get out alive.  Get out.  Get out alive. Get out."  I hoped that all would go well and we would not wind up in jail.  Or otherwise mis-occupied.

Several Christmas gifts, a decent amount of stress and photos, and some tequila later, I am happy to report that Puerto Nuevo, Mexico, is amazing, silly, touristy, nonsensical- filled with people trying to make a living in a cheerfully capitalistic fashion.  It is bright and bold and spilling over with colors and music and life and livelihood.

I can also report that Marisco's restaurant in PN serves a damned fine ceviche. 

I can also report that if you, for whatever reason, find yourself in an 'authorized vehicles only' lane at the border crossing (back into the States), you should probably find a way out of it.  Otherwise you will, in fact, be detained.  And sent to secondary inspection.

So much love, Muchachos.