I’ve had with most of you. Especially those of you who sit there and argue with the very people this government is marginalizing and harrassing. That we should “get along and be nice” because somehow that’s going to magically fix everything. The time for politeness passed many months ago. Sorry, that’s just how it is. If you can’t see why, get you head out of your fucking ass and take a good look around. You say you have minority friends? Sure, ok! Why don’t you ask them some things: Ask any of your friends of color how they’re doing right
It’s a gloomy, rainy day here in Chicago, and it seems rather fitting that today. So many Ancestors in so short of time. I’ve already done my rituals: lit candles and incense. But today I feel the need to write about them and what they meant to me. A little less than two weeks ago, my mentor and friend, Lizann Bassham passed after a long struggle with cancer. She had decided that she wanted to stop treatment and die on her own terms. Her partners kept vigil with her, both in person and online, updating those of us who couldn’t
There is a TV show trope that I just absolutely detest: the person who marries another person, knowing they have a vocation or calling, who then gets all bent out of shape when their spouse puts that calling before them. It came up again for me because the wife and I are re-watching “The West Wing” (and crying bit). In one of the first episodes of the first season, Leo McGarry (who is the Chief of Staff) comes home, and his wife is mad at him for missing their anniversary. The next day he tries to plan a romantic dinner
The weather is changing. The weather here in Chicago is much different from the Bay Area. The cold actually surprised me. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt real cold. This is the beginning of the cold that bites your cheeks, making you run for the covers and some hot chocolate. The cold also brings back body memories from when I lived in New Hampshire and the Northeast. Like the smell of tobacco reminds me of my grandfather, the cold reminds me of growing up, among other things. The shorter days makes me want to hibernate, but I know
Hello again. I know it’s been awhile, but settling in here in Chicago has taken some time. I’ve also been doing a lot of discernment and thinking about where my ministry is going, which is, as those of us who are clergy know, an ongoing process. Lately I’ve been working on an initiation series based on the magickal Kabblah, and recently wrote the first of the initiations, which is based in Malkuth. And apparently, I’m also there until I start writing the next one. (This is where all the witches say “duh!”) What’s been interesting about this, though, is that
I refuse to moralize you I refuse to fight you, count you, or categorize you as good or evil. I’ll try not to restrict you unless I absolutely have to. I’ll make sure to invite you in even during the times where I feel I don’t deserve you. Because I can’t exist without you. You are not my enemy. I want to honor you, in all your smells and tastes and textures, with good preparation. I will honor where you come from and honor the way you bring people into community. You are sacred. You are sacrifice. You are life.
When I write about not being abusive to allies, I get told that I’m oppressing the marginalized and that allies should just sit down and shut up. And I wonder: when did verbal abuse in social justice become ok? When I write about not shaming those who can’t march, or call, or who can’t speak out because doing these things are not possible, or could put them in danger, I get told that my/their silence is assent. And I wonder: when did shaming and ableism in social justice become ok? When I write about the elephants in the social justice
I woke up in November to a country that wasn’t what I was promised by my parents by school by Plymouth Rock and Strawberry Bank. No more Lady Liberty, no more freedom of Religion, no more melting pot, no more School House Rock America. And yes, this was the Beautiful Dream. A dream that wasn’t true for many, but we could dream it, All of Us But there is no more love for Patriots. (No, not the football team, or what the GOP calls as Patriot.) I’m talking about Patriots: Those who love our country enough to march in the
Most of you know by now that the wife and I are moving to the Chicago area in March. There’s a lot of feelings around this move for me: excitement, fear, stress, wonder, and grief. It’ll be sad to leave the Bay Area as we’ve both lived here for over 10 years, built a witchcraft tradition, and made many many wonderful friends. That is definitely the hardest part about this move. But we’ve also both realized that it’s time for change. We’ve both been a bit stuck creatively, and this will give us a chance to start some things over
There’s been a lot of discussion about grief since the election: what is “proper” grief, when to get over grief, and people denying the grief of others. Two months ago, this post would have probably just been a rant about not telling people how to grieve, but then my friend Bubby Jerimyah D’Luv died suddenly. And the grief over the election fell into grief over Jerimyah. I lit my candle for him, and wore my rainbow socks to his memorial. I was his friend, but I didn’t get to spend as much time as I would have liked with him.