Gratefulness (Potentially Part 1?)

*Fair Warning* I gave you sly and silly yesterday, I give you sappy and reputation ruining today.  

This blog has been building in me for a while.  This year has been difficult, to say the least, and I have a great deal for which to be grateful.  But today Clarity and Honesty Reign.  And to be clear, to be bluntly honest, there is nothing on this earth for which I am more thankful than my parents.

Here and there I hinted on their strength and importance in my life.  Here and there I have recommended benediction, medals, Knighthoods, even the renaming of the planet in honor of my Father.  

My father.  He is- in honor of his linear practicality and calm, quiet presence- my constant.  My father is my Magnetic North; my gravity; my PI.  He grounds me, challenges me, and listens to me even when I make no sense (which, yes, is more often than not). He never gets excited but his love (don't tell him I said this ;)) runs deep and immensely powerful.  In one of my sappier (and probably slightly drunk) moments I told him that he is, beyond doubt, the love of my life.  He is my hero and my heart.  

And his ability to 'handle' my mother and I constantly confounds me.  

Because where my beloved father is my constant, my most cherished mother is my Touchstone.  She is my best friend, and my greatest, most giving teacher.  I don't quite know how to describe my  mother to those who don't know her or who have never met her.  She brings life to everything she touches.  She brought life to me and brings life to me.  She has kept me alive during a time when I would have happily crawled into nothingness.  And she has a magical ability to smile through it all. 

They both LOVE.  

And I love.  And I love them.

Until next blog!

Giving Thanks: A Happily Composed Obsessions List

Of course in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I wanted to post a couple of new obsessions for which I give Many Many Many Thanks.

Enjoy.

So I know that I am a little slow on the uptake- the album has been out for a while now- but Battle Born.  Oh my stars, Battle Born.  While I am admittedly such a sucker for the Killers, this album in particular has vaulted me beyond my normal dork-dome into something else entirely.  They are already my pop music junk food.  But Brandon Flowers here is tried and true Vegas, so show-y and heartbreaking; vibrancy and flash.

This next obsession started just as Josh Elliot.  Then it morphed into Josh Elliot and Sam Champion.   Then it grew even further: Josh Elliot, Sam Champion, Robin Roberts.  Then I added Diane Sawyer and David Muir.  And Dan Harris.  So basically I have realized that my obsession is the entire ABC News Team.  They are a divinely gathered group of informational powerhouses who make me smile, yell; who provoke my insanity and intellect.  Plus David Muir is a hottie and for whatever reason Diane Sawyer has always reminded me of my Aunt Nancy.

Two words:  Billy Burke.  Not because he is Bella Swan's dad in the Twilight Series and not because he is charming as Uncle Miles in Revolution (another potential obsession for a later date).  But because he is just so bloody cool.  And his brown eyes are oh so very very pretty.

This show- I cannot WAIT to see how this plays out.  December 12th, can you get here any sooner?

Okay kids.  I think that is all for now.  A short list for I desperately need to do prep work for Thanksgiving.

Much love, and talk to you tomorrow...

Pinocchio

-Or- The Anorexic Decides to Become a Real Girl -

Yes, that is the title, and that is where we are going in this blog.  First, let me begin my mentioning that my weird adoration of fairytales has sprung back into the forefront of my mind from the adolescent recesses.  It could be a fault of the proliferation of TV series based on retelling of classic tales.  It may just be my love of other-worldliness.  I mean, come on, I'm a witch who likes to identify alternately with Little Red Riding Hood, Druids, and Wolfs.  Seriously seriously stuck in the clouds.

The point is- hence, Pinocchio.

Second, let me get to the big point.

A couple of weeks ago I finally remembered that I am surrounded by the most amazing network of people.  People who love me (she types with a tone of wonder and awe).  Me.  Crotchety, mean, witchy, snarky, sad, sick Kate.  ME.  And they seem to love me regardless of those aforementioned qualities.  My parents, my extended family, my Fairy Godmothers (the Haloed-Triumvirate), my friends.  Even though I have defiantly and at times even gleefully starved myself to the point of probable hospitalization over the past year and couple of months.  Even though I have yelled, wept, gnashed my teeth and gnawed at the soul of that network.  Even though I have brutally and unabashedly alienated everyone at some point and categorically walled myself away at others.

You still love me (she still types with wonder and awe and now gratefulness.  Teary-eyed gratefulness).

I don't get it, necessarily, but I have FINALLY accepted it and have allowed myself to be changed by it.  This transformation began about two weeks ago (remember that wedding-thingy?), when my entire family gathered and I was struck by witnessing physically the connections between my family members, and my family and myself. I was struck by the fact that I laughed harder than I have laughed in that year and couple of months- that I smiled.  Repeatedly.  And honestly.  And I danced and sang and hugged and loved.

And I was struck by the fact that I wanted to continue laughing; to continue smiling.  I want to dance and sing and hug and love everyday for the rest of my decidedly strange life.

So I sat my parents down this past weekend, my parents who deserve medals and potentially benediction for surviving my disease along with me, and said "I'm done.  I'm done with all of this.  I want to be a real girl again." (Again, hence Pinocchio).

It's not going to be easy or overnight- by any means.  We all know that.  But at least it has begun- the wooden-hearted girl  living in some sub-reality of a half life is beginning to find her flesh again and surface into a whole real-life.  In more ways than one.

I love you all.  Friends, Fairies, Family.  And I am sorry for what I put you through.  I am sorry that my pain bled into your lives for so long.  But I am so grateful to be loved.  You haven't a clue.

Until next time.  I LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU.

A Blog About a Wedding

Of course I was always going to blog about my brother's wedding.  But I needed time to digest it all before trying to express it all.  Plus I was the best man.  And consider this- over the course of about an hour, my brother became a husband, my parents became in-laws, and I became a sister for a second time.

And I do not believe that I have ever felt closer to my brother than I did this weekend.

I know that I am constantly trying to play it cool- and suave- but I will be honest when it is called for.  I am a complete and utter sap when it comes to this stuff- as you will understand as you read on and I lose all of my street cred as a bad ass witch-druid.  But I digress to try and save my reputation... I love weddings.  I do.  They truly engender a constant and warming feeling of love.  Families and friends coming together to celebrate the next step of a relationship between two people.  Two very loved and exceedingly cherished people.

I have never seen a more beautiful bride than my new Sis, Tracy.  It was the Kate Middleton moment for me- Tracy kept her dress to herself until the very last moment.  And when she appeared I do believe the collective gasp barely covered the fact that my brother's heart may have skipped several beats.  What perfection she was and is.  And my brother... my brother was brilliant on his wedding day.  He was silly, sweet, and responsible in a way that I am entirely un-used to. They were both just the best.

(I know this is getting worse and worse.  I really am a total cheese-ball.)

Then there were my parents.  Both looked retro and chic and divinely happy.  My father, as usual, lorded over the ceremony like the Most-Interesting-Man-In-The-World that he is while my mother glowed with the luminous knowledge that her kid would be a husband.  How overwhelmed was I this weekend?

It is always strange to me, this occasion of matrimony.  I look at my parents, my friends who are married and now my brother and sister-in-law, and I always find myself thinking about the ring and how it... well.... everything changes but nothing changes at all.  These stages in our lives, signaled by these rings or whatever other mementos we embrace, enhance who and what we are; they give us stories to tell and memories to have and share.  They give us life.

And love.

And true happiness.

All of my love to all of my family, my friends, and my fellows.

Happy New Year

Ever since I was a wee lass, I have quite merrily and contrarily loathed New Years Eve.  I tell anyone who asks about the inanity of celebrating this one random day that really signifies nothing in the grand scheme of things.  In typical crotchety fashion, I stay home every December 31st.  I sit with my dogs, usually by myself, and watch bad movies.  My parents are generally the only ones who bother to call and brave my usually foul mood to wish me a Happy New Year.

Well well, silly Kate, Little Witch.  In typically late fashion, I finally figured out exactly why I have such a peculiar aversion to the socially traditional New Years (Eve).

Because it's not my New Years (Eve).

Samhain is New Years Eve for us witches- Samhain, Halloween, this most delicious of days and sweetest of nights is the beginning of the year-cycle for us old souls.  It is this moment in time when the natural calendar resets itself and we are given a chance to reset ourselves in very real, very profound way.  This New Years is about shoring up before the dark season and having one lovely celebration of the passing of time, life, and night.

So it all makes sense now, right?  This is the time of my rebirth- the rebirth of my beliefs, my year, my time and my Self.   This is the time of intention-setting and making resolves; this is the time of giving thanks for all the experiences that we have had and looking forward to all the experiences yet to come.  

I know that I often get a bit silly about this stuff, and I often get a bit out of hand when it comes to what, who, and how I believe.  And there are so many reasons for my silliness and my out-of-handedness.  The wildness within me drives most of my nonsense.  But New Years (Eve)?  Well, sorted- we finally have the answer to my crankiness and forever grumpiness on December 31.  Done and Done.  Explained.  

I wish you all, then, a Very Happy New Year; a Very Happy Halloween; a Very Very Soulful Joyful Samhain.  

Until next time, my Pretties!

Something Wicked This Way Comes

When (if he did indeed) Shakespeare wrote Macbeth, he allowed for a trio of unusually sinister women to make their appearances as witches.  Witches!

And so witches continue their place in history as slightly off-center, slightly evil, creatures existing within both the natural and supernatural worlds.

I just want to pause, gather myself, and then yell at everyone who dares categorize witches with the same antiquated 'evil' ideas of yesteryear.  Off-center and evil?!?  No.  Duality of natural and supernatural?... okay, well...  Yes.

Sorry to be a pain about this- but I am a witch.  And I am constantly in a state of preponderance as to whether or not people actually understand what that means.

Let this stand as a sort of micromanifesto- a wee pre-Samhain synopsis of what exactly I am (or am not for that matter):

I am a witch.

I am not Wicca.

I am not Pagan.

I do not run around worshipping dark lords or setting spells against people.

I do run around outside pausing frequently to thank nature for existing, for fighting against modern infringement of society.

I choose to be responsible for myself and my practice.

I choose to be aware of both myself and my practice with discretion, distinction, and graciousness.

Something wicked does NOT this way come- something wild does.  Something wild, ancient, and ever-evolving.  For that is the nature of the witch and witchcraft.  We evolve, we grow, we create new traditions, new meanings, and new circles of knowledge.

So get over it.  I'm not going to sacrifice a goat in front of you and yours.  In fact, goats kind of creep me out and the less I have to do with them... probably the better.

Until next time, dearhearts...

...

I am staring at the blinking cursor on this stupid screen and have been for about 20 minutes now, unsure of what to say.  These are my final moments in Iceland and speechlessness has descended on my already muted ability to describe my experiences here.  I sit and drink a coffee, listen to the conversations happening around me (judge the people having them :)) and wonder how to relate what has become not a trip, not an adventure, but a Moment.  A moment out of time and space- contained only by the boundaries of this island nation.

It is not easy.

Of all of the impossible expectations I have created throughout my life- of all of the romantic fantasies I have concocted- this is one of the few to not just live up to but exceed it's very idea (that sentence is impossibly grammatically disastrous- go with it).  That in itself seems like a cosmic impossibility- but it happened.  Somehow this experience became more than my desire for it.  Somehow I made it through without fading into the fantasy.  People keep asking  me what my favorite part of the trip has been... and there is only one thing I can tell them.

Iceland.

On this note, I return to the States, hoping against all hope that I can translate this world into that one.  I know I cannot do it fully, but I can certainly try to parlay some part of the Moment into the Constant.

Until a wee bit later, my darlings my dears my tethers...

A Page From My Journal*

*I wrote this today, after having time to fully digest last night's events.  It's pretty personal so bear with  me and try not to judge too harshly my obsessed madness.  All punctuation and emphasis remains exactly as it appears hand-written in my Iceland-2012 Diary.

-- A Note on the Northern Lights --

I am interrupting the day-to-day flow of the constant travel journey in order to pay some serious attention to the Aurora Borealis.

Last night I accomplished a task on my "Must Do Before I Die" List.

I saw the Northern Lights.  I saw them.

I looked up in the sky and was overwhelmed by their gentle, undulating beauty.  Their graceful presence appeared and covered me like a blanket on a cold night.

What I saw... white lights in the dome of the sky.  No huge colors (that normally only happens on film anyway).  No screaming greens, no violent violets.  Just lovely, easy, silent white.  White caps in the sea of the sky.

WHITE CAPS IN THE SKY. 

And while everyone else scurried to snap photos and set their shutter speeds, I stood and looked.  I stared and thanked whatever force beyond knowing allowed me to have this one moment in time.

Because to me they were more than the Northern Lights- the Aurora Borealis.  They were ether.  They are ether(eal).

They were, they are, the physical representation of that unknown substance which connects us all in the witchy world and the ultra-universe.

The light are wisdom- consciousness- collected but uncontrolled unity of forces.

And they dance. 

My god- they dance in the sky like sprites and then erupt into volcanic brilliance.  They are everything- They. Are. Ether. 

Thank you, again, whoever-whatever-however is out there.  I am eternally yours.  

I have seen the Northern Lights

And They Do Dance. 

In the Valley of the Sagas

When I was much younger, and still believed in the kind of love that 'conquers' and 'overcomes' all, I read a piece of Icelandic literature called The Saga of the Volsungs.  I can pinpoint the beginning of my obsession with Iceland to one line in that translation (the cheap-o Penguin version if you are wondering):

Something else is closer to the truth.  I love you more than myself.  

The hero says that to the tragic heroine after she makes some wild confession of ill-done deeds and moans that he must hate her.  

That line.  Those words.  

To my young mind there was nothing more romantic, more chivalrous, more perfectly earth-shattering than that moment in that saga.  I was done for.  All I could think was 'I must go to a place that produces words like that; characters like those.'  And from there my desire to journey to Iceland only grew.  It swelled into an often unmanageable beast running around my insides and causing me to gaze longingly at photos of the Northern Lights and Ice-Capped mountains for uncountable minutes.  Of course that beastly desire ebbed and flowed with the tides of my individual growth.  Sometimes it was Iceland, other times New Zealand or Argentina; Italy or Turkey.  You name it and could (can) give you a reason for needing to be in that culture or country or whatever.  

But today.. today it all paid off.  As I drove through Western Iceland I found myself near the Laxardalshals region, on the Laxa River.  It means nothing to most.  It means everything to me.  It is the Valley of the Sagas- the home of so many characters I have bled for and torn my hair over.  I clawed through translations, devouring passionate stories of love, pain, murder, magic.  And there I was today, in the heart of it all.  

Have you ever had a moment when you completely forget to breathe?  When nothing seems real because nothing real is so perfect as that moment?

That was my today- all day.  

Until next time...