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As something of a hedonist, I struggle with mindfulness because surely if I just eat the right apple fritter, drink the right spiked frozen apple cider, watch my favorite television shows and buy the right pair of boots, I’ll be living my best life.  Mindfulness is something I also feel a certain amount of stubbornness towards because I had a Buddhist boyfriend once and it felt like then it would be a short hop onto complete detachment and not caring about all of the shallow things that make me happy and I’m not about the life.  (Calm down, Buddhists.  I know that it’s an incredibly long and difficult thing to obtain because I have been lectured on it excessively.)

So I tend towards extremes sometimes because that too is a bit of my hedonistic tendencies.  Either it’s a scene from Pippin when he goes nuts in the countryside indulging in every whim ever or we are reenacting a significantly less fun version of Salem and there are no red stockings or beer for you, Goodwife Deborah.   My intentions are sincere, but it’s hard to maintain either extreme.  Generally what happens is I decide that I don’t really need to drink booze, vegetables are fine for breakfast and chicken is great for everything always.  Then I get bored.  Then it’s a super fun weekend binge of eating and drinking all the delicious things, having a fantastic time going out with friends and gossiping and geeking out and going shopping and lying in bed for forever and reading the books I want to read and watching all the things and putting my house back together from the week before and feeling all satisfied and happy with life.  Then Monday morning it’s like the worst reality hang over ever where I know I will need to do tasks I don’t want to do and deal with workplace shenanigans so Monday morning I’m essentially trying to lodge my fingernails in the doorframe so I don’t have to do it.

Call your soul tribe together when a loved one is ailing and needs a circle of support It can be at your home or any place that feels safe and secure. I highly recommend creating healing energy at the home of the person who is unwell, as it will create an aura of restoration. Ask each person to bring something to comfort, reassure, and cure the celebrant: soup, healthy snacks, a soothing eye pillow, sleep balm, a hand-knitted scarf for warmth, yummy body lotion with uplifting essential oils, herbal teas, books, or lavender-infused slippers are all wonderful gifts.

Form a circle of care around the celebrant and light candles. Unscented soy candles are probably best for health reasons. As you go around the circle, ask each person to give his or her gift of caring to the celebrant and say what it represents. Here is an example from a recent rite:

A friend had to remind me that yesterday was Hecate's Eve. As a crone I love Hecate,her dogs and crossroads, her ways and means, her lantern light. I wrote several poems back in 2016 when I was participating in Joana Colbert Powell's 30 Days of Hecate e-course. It was a wonderful way to stay sane in what was a momentous year for me - getting married, turning 60, my croning ceremony.

And just prior to that croning ceremony I wasin Knaresborough, Yorkshire at Mother Shipton's Cave. It was there I realised that, along with Biddy Early, that she was one of my croning confirmation sponsors. She lived in a cave in the King's Woods and prophesied. She is an Anglophone Hecate made flesh. Here cave is really very, very, woo-woo!

“Hi, this is Julie calling from Such-and-So Bank. I'm looking for Steven Posch?”

Uh-oh. The bank is calling, but Julie sounds amazingly chipper. Something's not right.

“Speaking,” I say, dubiously.

“Congratulations, Mr. Posch! You've won this year's drawing for a free organic turkey!”

I start to laugh, partly in relief, and partly in amused appreciation of Wyrd and her screwy sense of humor. Ah, the cussedness of things.

“Mr. Posch?” Julie sounds puzzled. Obviously this isn't the reaction that she expected.

“Sorry,” I finally manage to get out. “Of course it makes perfect sense that the vegetarian would win the drawing for the turkey, right?”

In this Land of Ten Thousand Storytellers, Kevin Kling has got to be one of the very best.

Here's a story from his boyhood.

When you're seven years old and growing up in a Norwegian Lutheran town on Minnesota's Iron Range, you know that there are certain things that you just can't do. One of them is to bother Pastor Lindquist—who is, after all, right up there next to the Big Guy—with theological questions.

But one night at the church supper Kevin finds himself sitting next to the pastor's wife, and he figures that she might be close enough to the Source to ask.

“Mrs. Lindquist,” says Kevin, “If Jesus and Buddha got into a fight, who would win?”

“Well, Jesus would win, of course,” says Mrs. Lindquist.

“Well, if Jesus and Allah got into a fight, who would win?” asks Kevin.

“Jesus would win,” says Mrs. Lindquist.

“Well, if Jesus and Odin got into a fight, who would win?” Kevin asks.

There's a long pause.