Cranky Crone's Corner

Thoughts on the Loaf Mass

2006-08-04T06:56:00.000-05:00

And a gracious good morning to you, my Witchy ones! I've gotten myself a big steaming mug of the deepest darkest roasted coffee I could wave my wand at (all hail, Seattle's finest), and thought that I would settle in for a spell and a think. Tis the Festival of Lammas, the Feast of Skills.

I caught a glimpse of myself from behind through a glass darkly, and the voice from the Magic Mirror said, "have another donut - just kidding". (Note to self, wash the Magic Mirror's mouth out with soap). In this time of the Feastof the First Harvest, it looks like my ship has already come in. And attached itself to my stern, so to speak. As I looked around the Lammas Circle, as we feasted post-rit on Cakes (with jam and icing) and Ale (hearty and stout, like many of us), I was drawn to ponder the phenomenon that may be more than just Craft Culture.

Truly, though, in this case, the food we eat in circle and in the mundane world may be out of this world delish, but the song remains the same, and the shape retains the blame for scrumptious delicacies consumed both in and out of sacred space, and that, to finish the phrase, is "of the world" indeed.

There has been much media too-doo and doo-doo lately about the lardening and largening of the North American Behind. We are a continent of Jolly Happy Rosey Cheeked Dimple Butted Souls, swimming in the fat of the land, buttered up by advertisers who new and improve themselves into a frenzy by adding extra fats and salt to make their processed repasts as palatable as possible. When did food become a commodity - a product? When did Agri-culture become Agribusiness? When did my backside get so supersized? Yes, I did want fries with that - consider it a momentary lapse of judgment, with wide ranging consequences. Key word - wide. As in Wide Load.

I was preparing myself a bit of lunch the other day, a box of Craft Dinner, and for some reason unbenownst to the Gods, decided to read the nutritional information panel on the side of the box (recycled paper, btw). Ah, I smirked in self-righteousness - only 250 calories, if made with skim milk (oxymoron) and margarine (If I want to eat petroleum byproducts, I'll go chew on a tire swing).

My smirk changed to one of self- frighteousness when i read that those 250 calories (okay, add real milk and butter - lets make it a generous 350) were Per Portion - and that there were 4 portions in the box. All my life, ever since I was a wee baby witchlet learning how to stir a cauldron at my mother's knee, I thought a box of Craft Dinner was a single serving. Who knew? Here was half my caloric intake for the day. Do the Math. Do the Magick. Time to buy a new robe one size up. Wonder if I can let out the seams on a few things?

Why are so many Pagans so very Portly? Shouldn't we all be running around in the Wildewood, singing, dancing, making music and love, all in Her Presence, naked in our Rites? Whaddya mean - no one sees you nekkid? (ah, the road to Perdition). Oh - you can't run for more than a city block without invoking the element of Air to please return to your gasping lungs. It is good that we take up space, hold our ground, grow our power, increase our presence on the spiritual and cultural scene and can't get pushed around. But we're doing it literally, not energetically or figuratively. Which means we're not healthy on the inside, or the outside.

I celebrate with gusto that our glorious pagan women distain the admonitions of Madison Avenue and Vogue Magazine and all their ilk. Quite the herd of ilk, really - I am always amazed when I visit the local Ye Olde Booke and Magazine Emporium trying to find the most recent copy of Wand Wavers Weekly that there are so many magazines and periodicals devoted to telling me how to look, think, and act (usually in order to trap a man. Sweetings, I've got me one powerfull love attractor spell - thanks anyways. Only out of sage when I want to be).

While we may be stylish, we don't strive to be a size 0 for the mere approval of our culture, our peers, our partners or our Gods. We like to be normal, healthy, rounded, curvaceous, sexy, Goddess like in our various diverse forms of glorious womenhood. But let's admit it - some of us have taken the Venus of Willendorf a little too seriously as a role model. How does that phrase go - size 0 is the new size 2, and size 8 is the new size 14. Now that we have achieved size 0 will designers be creating clothes in negative sizes? Don't turn sideways, Ms. Lohan, you'll be invisible except for the zipper in the side of your dress.

Speaking of sages, if some of our men had to leap the Balefire, we'd be dialing 911 as we sang that olde-tyme seasonal carol - "Chett's nuts roasting on an open fire". For many of our men, it seems that their get up and go, got up and went. Not that I'm looking for 6 pack abs (not that I'd complain), but we are talking some serious girth issues here. When I wrap my arms around you, darlin, I'd like my hands to meet. We have a few more Dionysus types than Adonis types. On the other hand, some of the slender young men are so slender that I fear they may blow away in a stiff breeze, or break from a hearty embrace. Sorry, dear, I didn't mean to snap your spine. Blessed Beltane. Have a backbrace.

Yes, there is so much more of us to love - but we may be loving ourselves into heart attacks, strokes, diabetes (a scourge (not the good kind) in the pagan community), And when it becomes a health issue - it dishonours She Who Made Us. When my physical movement is impeded by my physical bulk - there's an issue. When I drop my wand, and look hopefully at the Coven Maiden to offer to bend Alllll the way doowwwnn to pick it up for me ... I need to try to touch the toes of my pointy boots just a little more often. Time to pull up my red and white striped socks and do some pagan calesthentics (which, contrary to popular opinion, is not bending the elbow to reach the mouth with loaded fork or beer stein).

Can anyone name any famous Pagan Athletes? We've got scholars, and writers and academics, and philosphers, and a few actor-types, but where is the Pagan Poster Child for Physical Activity? What would a Pagan Olympics look like (remember - they were ours first - and the opening ceremonies of the Athens Olympics certainly reminded me of the Games' pagan past). What events would be on the roster? I'm open to suggestions. Here's a few off the point of my hat ....

Remote Control Relay - infrared targets shot by various team members as the remote control is tossed from lazyboy recliner to lazyboy recliner?

Websurfing on the High Seas - given a list of obscure topics, and barred from using Google

Drumming Marathon - last one still keeping the rhythm wins. (yes, rhythm - often a highly rarified concept at some drumming circles)

Potluck Sprint - first one to reach the buffet table and load their plate with some of everything wins. (last year's gold medal winner used the soup as gravy to avoid the penalty points of using two plates to get it all)

Bi-athalon - best left to the imagination.

Creative tri-athalon - competitors move from zone to zone on foot - and must a) assemble beaded jewelry, b) make soap in the shape of a crescent moon, c) concoct an aromatherapy potion or potpourri, and d) assemble a wearable garment of chain mail.

*Medics will be standing by in case of overexertion, burns, scalds, carpal tunnel flare ups, or angry lovers throwing punches (the greatest peril of the bi-athalon)

But back to business, here. Where is the balance? In pulling away from the societal norms, have we let ourselves go too far? One thing that I have noticed in my Junior Witch Club, is that the concept of energy is becoming harder and harder to teach, explain and work with. The precious little witchlets don't feel it, can't raise it, wouldn't know it if it crept up on hot buttered feet and bit them on their backsides. The level of stamina is stagnant. (but to be fair, I must admit that sometimes, in our Coven Energy Raising, we huff, and we puff, and we knock ourselves out long before the roof blows off the building). More than willing to point my boney old fingers back at myself when I'm pointing them elsewhere.

There is a subtle shift in the magickal community towards the concepts of "prayer and meditation" - which used to be known as grounding and centering, in preparation for some pretty exuberant energy work. That piece seems to be going by the wayside. Three circumnavigations of the circle while chanting and running out of breath is NOT raising energy. We are doing ourselves a disservice - we are choosing to energetically disconnect with life force energy, we are stagnating within our bodies, and increasingly unable (and because of that inability increasingly disinterested) in active physical participation in the world of magick). Magick is becoming a passive act. Energy in, energy out. Garbage in, garbage out. What you see is what you created is what you get.

So, for lunch today, I plan to go out into my garden, and cut some lovely leaf lettuce (whatever the rabbits have left for me), some radishes, a few green onions, a nice ripe juicy sunwarmed tomato, and I think I have a smallish cucumber that I can harvest, and I'm going to toss myself a salad. Its a start. And then, I'll brush my teeth, and pay a visit to my Mirror Mirror on the Wall, toothbrush still in hand.

Until next time, my Witchy Ones - and I warn you now that reduced butter intake makes me just a little testy. Cranky by name, cranky by nature. Hope to see less of you more often in the future.

Regarding Magickal and Crapht Names

2006-06-23T18:10:00.000-05:00

Greetings, my pretties,

So sorry that I've been away from the keyboard, its been a busy time over here in the Corner. Spring has sprung, the grass has risen, and has needed cutting regularly. The MidSummer Sun has made my Magickal Herb garden run rampant, and require a healthy dose of Tender Loving Care. The Comfrey's as high as an elephant's eye... so I've been out of doors with my hands in the earth reconnecting to Mother Earth mostly by getting her under my fingernails. I'd forgotten how messy the Olde Girle really is, when left to her own devices.

In betwixt and between, I've been doing my Spring cleaning - which is now renamed Summer cleaning, and will likely extend into the early autumn - such is life. But I've found many treasures that I thought lost (never ask the cats to put things away) and made some space for more WitchKitch - because you know that there will be another influx of nifty knick knacks with the approaching Samhain Season, courtesy of Michaels Crafte Supply.

It has been A Productive Time - and I've bought a new Sunhat.

In going through numerous tomes, folders, shoe boxes full of paper bits, scrolls and cuniform tablets, I did manage to find that lovely letter from that sweet young Witchlette about magickal names. She has been gracious enough to allow me to share it with you .... providing of course that names (including hers) are changed to protect the innocent, and save the guilty from the Wrath of the Blogger Gods. May it bring a smile to your face, and a boot to your butt, should you ever feel the need to descend into the Extreme Silliness described below.

Its Thyme to water the Aconite, and check the Purple Sage for New Riders. I will make every attempt to write again soon - so please, drop back in again to see what's new.

Greetings, my dearest Cranky Crone,
I hope you are well, and that your new broom continues to sweep clean. I am sending you an essay I wrote for a group of friends, and thought you might enjoy it just a bit. Those who know us both say that I am a nut that has not fallen far from the Oak Tree, so thank you for infusing me with the courage of my convictions and the bravery to write it down for the enjoyment of others. Now, if you can tell me how to keep the squirrels off my roof..... and the bats out of my belfry...

best Lithas Sabbat regards to you and the Overly Familiar Familiars,
Witchlette "Acorn" - my new name, at least for this email and edited/lightly rewritten essay.

Acorn writes:

I want to talk about magickal names as the biggest broom closet of all. Hope this brings a smile to your face, and a moment of "hmmmmmmmmmm" (sprays self with flame retardent foam and prepares to cower under her desk once she hits send).

I completely understand taking a public chosen name that clearly defines an identifiable aspect/quality of "who you are" either inside or out - I'm going to pick on an old friend - Mike using the nick "Digger" makes PERFECT sense to me as he is a geologist - but I note that his email address is himself in real time. But if we meet in real time, I get to call him "Mike" or maybe "Michael" or at least I would unless he asked me to call him Digger. I don't think his diploma reads "Digger" - which would be exceedingly cool as he is a geologist. I am not being critical of his email nick in any way. It is descriptive and seems to be a good fit. Dig on, my friend. Dig on.

My esteemed Mentor is a wonderful old Witch who goes by the name of Cranky Crone. Her name is like a fence around her energy body. It keeps the rainbow bunnies away, and denotes her years of experience as a woman inthe Craft of the Wyse and accounts for the grey hairs. She is younger than you'd think - and less Cranky than she could be - but we know her, we love her, we can't live without her - and she is consistenly herself in all that she does in the online and real world as the one, the only, the Cranky Crone.

Similarly, I know a few others who use their one or two word magickal names consistently in person and on email - all good. Its a name. It means something. I get that part. I'm also not talking about people who have taken a CONSISTENT alternate name for their email identity. There are lots of those kinds of names. All good. I'd love to know the story behind their selection. Likely none of my business. Not really asking. Whatever people want to call themselves in real life/on email makes no nevermind. BUT...

I'm talking about "Crapht Names" here. Have you read through the Witchvox listings ? Pick a Province/State. It's the same everywhere. And we wonder why people don't take us seriously. All those Moon - Raven - Wolves - Eagle - Star - Dolphin - Merlin - Morgannas, and their best friends, those of the Goddess/God names of Power and Might.

Hi, I'm Calliope.

Yes, no need to yell, you most certainly are. What possessed your parents to call you Calliope? Zeus, apparently ....
Nice to meet you, I'm Bacchus - rhyme with Raucous. At least, I'd like to be. Wanna party? no, me neither. Rather read a good book - got the new silveravenwhatever insta-witch kit and advanced beginners 3rd degree manual in a box, complete with dinner plate sized pentacle?

Don't even get me started on the whole Lord and Lady thing. Its supposed to be a BESTOWED honorific, not a chosen title of no merit, if your group is into that kind of American Standard Wicca. Auntie Doreen says that there are no new Witch Queens under the Sun - but that's another story. This topic will get me as wound up as meeting a 16 year old 3rd Degree Eclectic Gardnerarialexandrian Highest of all Wiccan High Priestesses, whose great grandmother passed down the family handwritten photocopied book of shadows from the burning times, which is the only book Lady HoaWHP (pronounced WHAP!) has ever read, except for silverwhatzername.

Starhawk has written about how she received her magickal name. It is a magickal story. She didn't open The Big Golden Book of Divine Names and Celestial Descriptives and jab a finger at two different pages to come up with something "divinely inspired". And then tried again cause she didn't like the first combo.

I know one Witch who changes her magickal name every year (if not more often.) What's the point if you send an email from "PixieTinkle PeroghyMoontide@whatever" and you have to start the email -

"hi, its me, Hermione (Darlene), so you know. Last year, when we met at the Lammas Fair, I was Maroon Star Unicornhorn White-Leaf. I know my email reply-to is still Kali-Cuddles Odinsdottir, cause I haven't gotten around to changing that yet - so how are things? When's the next open event? yummiest blessings of the Goddess of Sugar Coated Nuts and Flakes..."

(pinches self) (OUCH) Real Person. Real Life. This is one of the reasons that I have always used my real name on lists, in emails, etc... as my religion is part of who I am everyday in the real world. This doesn't mean I introduce myself at PTA meetings by saying

"Hi, I'm Mary, mother of one son, and I'm a WITCH!!!!!!!! MOOOHAHAHAHAHAH Please pass the cookies and the agenda for today's meeting" Thanks, Principal Smith. Can I call you Willie ?".

IMNSHO, my religion has no bearing the hard skills needed to do my job, volunteer wherever I feel needed, buy groceries, go to a wedding or funeral, babysit the neighbors kid/cat/gerbil/mailbox, knit, or play competitive sports (HAH - unless bowling counts). I don't need to live ONLY through my self-identification as Wiccan (or any of its
sub-labels - for some, its not just being Pagan / Wiccan - they have to tell you that they are 3rd Degree Whatevers blah blah blah). Dinner plate sized pentacle ? no thanks, trying to cut down. hard on the neck muscles.

Soft Skills - If I'm not walking my talk, and trying my damndest to live my principles everyday I'm in bigger trouble than looking or sounding like a fool. My favourite Crapht name is a dianic lesbian performance artist in California named "Dolphin-Free Tuna Woman" (real name, by the way, legally changed. Poseiden & Flipper bless her
pointed little heart. Not in any way implying that DFTW is a fool, but her name seems a bit silly to me, although extremely politically correct.)

My faith is part of all that I am - so much so that I don't mention it most of the time unless someone asks directly, or it comes up in conversation about "what I do in my spare time and I talk about community events", or if someone admires a significantly witchy piece of jewelry. Or at work, back in the old days when I was running the New Age Shoppe and Celestial Emporium and people were looking for books, and wanted to know if there was anyone who knew anything about (whisper) real witchcraft. That was then. Now I could show them the poster that advertised my recent lecture at the local Community Centre - I should frame it like a diploma cause it proves I AM a real Witch. RIght up there with Glinda, and Sabrina, and all those other names on the poster. :)

My Craft name (and I do have one) is what my Gods call me (especially when they need to get my attention). Not even my Coven knows it. I don't even think my partner does. I certainly do not know hers, or if she has one, even. But that's me. :)

If I was to have a magickal name on another planet, it would be something like this:

Lady Sunray Stingray WhipperwillTwitterbeak EagleWoman, Cosmic 3rd Degree Currymaker and Esteemed Teacher of the Mysteries of Dark Beer, Afficianado 21st Order of Mature Single Malt, KnitTwitchQueen of the Prairie Region (self-proclaimed), Charter Member of the Most Magnificent Order of the Silly Wand Wavers in Wondrous Robes (The
MMOSWWWR) and Powerful Elder PooBah of the Cracked Cast Iron Cauldron Coven of Real Witches (we eat fluffy bunnies for breakfast, with toast and tea). W.O.R.N Past President, and lifetime member emiritas vino veritas.

This says something about who I am. (maybe just some of it. Some of it just sounded good.)

but on this planet, and in this lifetime, you can call me

Acorn

The Road to Perdition Wicca Style Part 2

2005-12-01T00:47:00.000-06:00

ah............ thank you dearie ........... now just let me take a sip of tea ......... mmmmmm ........ feeling better already ............. now then ........... where was I.......

Sky-clad-a-phobics. Especially those who don't know where to look once they finally get there. (the right answer is "within".) Oh - and right in the eyes, which is generally further up than their range of vision allows. You can always look your High Priest right in the Antlers and tell him what a nice rack he has on. Is it a little warm in here, or is it just me? And the sisterhood of Women, who have no trouble getting naked in the change room of the local fitness facility, simply cannot imagine settling in for some serious magickal work with their sisters dressed as the Goddess made them. We all have essentially the same parts, just at slightly different elevations, and we all have our well earned scars, lumps, bumps and saggy bits. We are all naked under our clothes. Keep that in mind when you have to do a presentation somewhere to a room full of hostile college students. It may help.

Indiscriminate Circling with Cowans of all paths, assuming they even have an identified path. Or a path that they have been on for more than "that" long. (would you mind snapping your fingers for me, dearie? I'm not up to two snaps in one chat). Or a path that they have explored with Pith Helmet and machete in hand, like Stanley through the Congo. Deep deep into the heart of the Mystery. No, I can't tell you what the Mystery is - or what the solution to the Mystery is. We are not playing Clue -and if you persist, the answer will be Cranky Crone in the Parlour with the lead pipe. Pass the cookies, dearie. I need to build up my strength in case I need to suddenly exert myself.

Myriad magickal names that change with the seasons, but not because of them. Or for any good reason that I can determine. I received a wonderful letter recently from some sweet little Witchlet, a "smart as a whip" young WitchiePoo, on magickal names. Must dig that out and maybe steal a few paragraphs. She's a credit to her Upline, that one. One of my best.

Tradition Hoppers. This week they are Eclectic Dianics Druids. Last week they were Shamanistic Gardenarians. Last year, they were Asatruistic Alexandrians. Now they are thumbing through the Craft Traditions Directory on the Witches Voice (such nice people, that dear Wren and Fritzie) looking for a new tradition to join. I can almost hear them buying a vowel, and seeing Vanna WhiteWitch turn the letters - "This pagan brought to you by the Tradition of the Month - Correllian Seax-Wiccan Voodo - one of the many flavours of Popular Paganism - where the rules are optional, and initiations are instantaneous. Over to you, Pat - its time for the bonus round, where our lucky dedicant can win a New Broom! (cue applause sign)"

Smudgers with sweetgrass, sage or tobacco. These are not Wiccan spiritual practices. They look nice. Very symbolic. They smell nice. Very fragrant. We must stop appropriating American indigenous practices into our Craft. There's an ocean of difference between Eurpean - centered Paganism, and North American Native traditions. And we do not follow the indigenous religion of Europe. What twaddle. Twaddle, I say. Say it with me now - TWADDLE TWADDLE TWADDLE. Enunciate your T's, my dearie - and please mind your p's and q's as well. I think I need another cookie.

Unconsecrated Tools waved about with wild abandon at Open Circles in Public Parks, in the presence of Mundanes. Would you use your best best china and silverware to entertain the vaccuum cleaner salesman when he comes to call? Riddle me this: How many people of various if any professed pagan faiths and variable Craft skillsets, including limited ability to ground and less ability to be reverent when gathered en masse does it take to deconsecrate a chalice in a public circle? Trick question - was the chalice AND its contents ever properly consecrated by an initiated Wiccan HPs in the first place? Answer - and you wonder why I'm cranky.

Ronco Add-water-and-stir Instant Cones of Power. Premature Energetic Ejaculation. I may be old, dearie, but I do have vague and distant memories of the comparison of which I speak. Been out of Sage, remember? And then, after raising all that energy for the entire 30 seconds it took to lift that cone up up up up and out - to be so tired, so weary, and/or so badly in need of grounding all that extra energy that is still stored up within you. If one of these circles tried to stop Hitler from crossing the Channel back in the day - I shudder to think of how that might have turned out. Say, can you see the last bevy of circlemates that you were with be of one focused intention long enough to get naked, rub themselves with lard, and run around a blazing fire on the beach in late winter chanting at the top of their lungs for hours and hours to stop the invading army from crossing over the water? Its not a pretty sight. Its also pretty near impossible to imagine, isn't it. Brings a tear to the eye. Yes please, you can close the smelling salts.

The Dragons, Archangels, and Teddy Bears of the Four Directions. Stay if you must, go if you can, don't let the Covenstead door hit you on the fanny on the way out. You Four - from the Chocolate Ritual, - Swiss Miss, Ethel M, Godiva, and My Lord Hershey, you can stay. As for the rest of you, and your kind - I summon, stir, and call up a banishing spell, just for you. This is not Wicca by Disney, Pixar or Lucas Film. Or Peter Jackson, though I do like his movies, and admire his fashion sense. May the Gregori be with you. Always. Luke, I am your Watchtower.

Celebate witches rather than Celebrants of the Deeper Mysteries! We're a religion of energetic polarity - go out and balance your energy. Feel the power of connection. Pray that it lasts more than 30 seconds. Consecrate your Temple, your Grove, your land, your home, your hearth with Sacred Sex - find your bliss, practice your passion, all acts of love and pleasure are Her Rituals - sing, feast, dance, make music and love ... with harm to none (unless they ask, and are willing particpants in your reindeer games.) And if you don't have a special someone or two (or more, if you are poly) in your world at the moment - practice the Great Rite with yourself. Its all sacred sex, if you want it to be. Its still beautiful and magickal and powerful and all that that other good stuff, if you are doing it with spiritual intent. Try not to annoy your neighbors. And don't tell me about it. Hush. I'm not listening. oh. My. GOODNESS! you don't say. You just said it. Well, good for you, dearie.

Newspaper Interviews! Radio talk shows! Public education. Outreach. Evangelism. Goddess Gospel music. Public Pentacle Wearing! Where will it end? Pass my smelling salts please - I've gotten a bit lightheaded. My ancestors didn't die by rope and fire and water and torture and all that in the Great Eternal Witch Hunt of Western Europe so Hps Lunalava SilverHawk could wear a copper satellite dish on her head and invoke the Great God Sammy Haines at the local Hallowe'en Cotillion, Bake Sale and Turkey Shoot, sponsored by Fruit of the Loom. Oh my. So very Sorry. The ancestors...witch-hunt part was supposed to go into my list of naughties .... I'm so upset that my fingers aren't even typing straight.

Now, don't get me wrong - in and of themselves, any one or two of these things isn't bad (well, maybe some of them are...) - but put some - most - all - of them all together and you have a Wicca that is homogenized, pasteurized, plain vanilla, watered down, ecuemenical, sterile, and bland. I forgot magickally impotent. Cheeze Whiz is not cheese. A finely aged room tempterature Stilton, served with a nice Port - now THAT's a cheese. What is being served up as Wicca Whiz these days is not Wicca as I know it - or practice it. I'm all for the evolution of spiritual thought and magickal practice. But you have to draw the line somewhere. Hand me my Athame. You look so afraid. Silly rabbit. No need to fear. No dear, that's a Bolline sticking out of the big piece of Stilton. The black handled one - yes. Double edged blade, like all the Goddess's gifts. Thank you. Now - let's draw that line.

wicca whiz _______________________________________________________ Wicca: the Craft of the Wyrd and Wise (codified by G.B. Gardner , liturgized by Doreen Valiente and likely no more than 107 or so years old, if we start with Leland's ARADIA as a baseline document.)

There we go. Now I feel better. As my dear dear friend Lady Moonbeam Pixiefart says, and I quote, "what happens in this blog is not of the world, but it will change the world." Well, I don't know so much about that - but it will certainly change me. My blood pressure may go down a knotch or two, and I may save a few pennies on smelling salts. It may change you. No promises - but at least you seem to enjoy our time together. Its so nice to spend time with such a good listener. More tea? no? me either, thank you for offering to pour.

I must find that letter on magickal names. It made me a little less Cranky - but don't get your hopes up. Cranky I was, Cranky I am, and given the state of the InstaWicca culture in Witch we live, Cranky I will be for some time to come. Put the teatray in the pantry, my dearie, the brownies will drink the milk and tease the pixies who will try to steal the sugar. Its time to say goodnight.

What makes the Crone so Cranky?

2005-11-30T23:59:00.000-06:00

When was the last time you were made to sit in the corner because you were a Bad Witch? Really? That recently? What an interesting weekend that must have been. Now, you "get" to be in this Corner, because you've been a Good Witch. Would you mind pouring the tea - its hard to type with these arthritic old fingers and be Mother at the same time. Here we sit, settled in for a precious few magickal moments, set aside just for us. You and me. No one else. Do you feel special? I knew you would. No sugar for me, dearie - it will sweeten my disposition.

Why I am Cranky? Well, wouldn't you be if you saw the Wiccan Wonderland you'd walked in for decades upon decades going to Hel in a handbasket? Its getting downright scary out there. For example, this year I have personally witnessed much of the following, and what I haven't seen, heard, or experienced first hand, I have from a very reliable source or 12 - nothing says lovin' like gossip from the Coven....

Signposts along the Road to Perdition - Wicca style:

Mere children (in experience only) Drawing Down the Moon, when they should be drawing remedial Invoking and Devoking Pentacle exercises - 100 lines of each, please. What do you mean you don't know the difference between invoking and devoking...... Yes, my dearie, the four elemental pentacles really do all start at different points... No, my dearie, the pentacle only has five points... you've got one too many ... here let me show you ....

Adults who experience emotions ranging from discomfort to horror when the Great Rite is revealed to be more than a simple a wine blessing, and the difference explained between "in truth" and "in token". (Pssst - its about S-E-X. The Sacred Marriage. It is what makes the world go round and the room spin, if you do it right)

The Redabuk Tradition - Basing their Arte and Craft on less than extensive book learning (shall we comment on critical and comparative reading skills?), rather than an extensive experiential pursuit of Magickal proficiency and Spiritual maturity. Not to be confused with the Redtoobux Tradition, which is a scholarly tradition of a highly literate 3rd Degree Priesthood (the Eye-didso's and the Eye-yamtu's) who have been in the Craft about "that" long. Excuse me, that "that' was a little longer than I had intended. Snapping my fingers that fast is a little hard at my age.

That's worse than it sounds, because they are reading books with more pictures than words, and all the pictures are of very pretty people in highly elaborate robes, and lovely altar decor with enough stuff to open their own little Martha Stewart's Good Thing Wiccan Pagan PolyTraditional Crafty Supply Emporium. All of which just look silly to the Mundanes. Apparently, you have to be a man in a dress with a smoking purse, a pointy hat and Prada shoes to worthy of respect, let alone veneration. Good old fashioned robes just don't inspire the awe that they once did, even amongst the dedicants, and initiates of the Craft. Its all so "medieval" or "fantasy world" - hoop skirts, bustiers, ruffled collars - and that's just what the men are wearing - you should see the women.... So few things that are simple, dignified, easy to get into and out of in the wiggle of a nose. And then there's the jewelry - completely over the top. In such bad taste. Chunks of crystal as big as my head. Copper Crescent Moon Crowns that look like satellite dishes gone tragically wrong. They must get great radio reception - and maybe even wireless internet service - Bluetooth compatible. Is that the right term? I knew a Bluetooth once, his brother Bluebeard married my cousin's sister-in-law's stepdaughter's second husband's first wife's daughter from an arranged marriage. It ended badly, but she wouldn't listen... and married him anyways.

The disrespect for men in our circles - People have actually been known to laugh at a man with a crown of antlers on his head.. IN CIRCLE. Be still my beating heart - which was beating a little fast at the thought of a properly prepared good looking man in a properly prepared sacred space with a rack of antlers on his noble brow. There are few enough men, and the really good ones are so much fewer and even farther between. What is it that Lord Effem says - when it comes to the ratio of men to women in Wiccan circles - "the odds are good, but the goods are odd". And they are generally so young? Where are the Sages? I've been out of Sage for a while - at least in this neck of the woods. Oh, for a wise, witty and wondrous Sage, to share the meaning of the Mens Mysteries and balance the energetic equation. Men - not the wishy washy sensitive new age "guy" who follows the light and doesn't see or hear the train coming. Men who can embody the face of the God of the Greenwood for His children. Men who honor the earth, and are Warriors, not soldiers. Men who don't have to be bribed with a few stiff drinks to wear the Antlers in ritual. Oh, there goes my heart again - pass me that little container from the top shelf ... smelling salts ...

I feel so faint .............

And so ... it begins .....

2005-11-29T00:47:00.000-06:00

Here's where the truth is told, the earth is the foundation, the sky is the limit and the unadulterated, unvarnished, and uncensored opinion of a cranky old hag gets put out into the world at large, like it or not. Slaughter the sacred cows and let the chickens come home to roost. No pain, no gain, no fears, no tears. Telling it like it is to those who are willing to listen - and maybe do something about it - if you are willing to dare to be different in the morning.

Are you brave enough? or are you always afraid that a house will fall on you? Don't look up - look around instead - and see the forest and the trees. The Chalice and the Blade. The Mirth and the Reverence. The Power and the Compassion. The way of the Cranky Crone. Pull up your red and white striped socks. There's work to be done, from the inside out. Lots of hard pondering and rough road ahead, so put on your black pointed thinking cap and tie it on real tight. Call in the flying monkeys. We'll need some back up. Buckle up your broomstick, my pretties - this is just the beginning.