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“I don’t know what to do. They wonder why I don’t visit but when I do it’s so painful.” My friend, just cresting her forties, was dealing with a difficult relationship with her parents. They refused to accept any responsibility for—or attempt to change—the behaviours that she’d found hurtful since childhood. She was struggling to find forgiveness, to be able to maintain some connection with them, but every interaction reopened old wounds.
I must apologize, it's been way too long and when I got the mail today and saw the latest issue of SageWoman, and realized that I can't remember the last time I had received the magazine, well, let's just say that I was sad.
Where do I start?
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When I first came home to Paganism, I studied goddesses, searching for the one I could most relate to, one who could best help me heal and grow.
Being of Irish descent, I focused on Celtic Goddesses, and found Rhiannon. Rhiannon had her baby taken from her while she was still recovering from birth, and was falsely accused of eating her baby. As punishment, she was forced to carry visitors on her back and tell them her “crime,” for seven years, until her son turned up alive and she was exonerated.
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Dear GW/BWI need some help. I need advice on a protection spell. I fear someone may be trying to manipulate people and things to try to take my child away and I want to take every possible precaution.
—Merideth
We can build a cherished tradition in the simplest of ways.
One of my absolute favorite childhood memories from the holiday season was my Christmas stockings. I felt more strongly about them than I did about the gifts under the tree, though please don’t think my parents skimped there.
There were little toys in the stockings, but I don’t recall a single one of those toys. What I remember, with sweetness, is that every year my stocking held a couple of tangerines, a handful of unshelled nuts, and a few, exquisite, small, Italian nougat candies, each candy in a tiny box that seemed oh-so-fancy to me.
Silly costumes, trick or treating, horror stories have never been my thing. Even as a kid, I never really liked Halloween the way it’s celebrated. My father died in late October in 1984. The grief from his loss lingers and always makes me a bit sad during this time of year. Instead of celebrating with the silliness of trying to frighten yourselves, I find ways to honor the dead.
The veil between worlds thins and allows a connection to bridge across the worlds. For me this bridge is always there. No I don’t see dead people. I’m not claiming to be psychic. I do attempt to honor those who have passed.
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Long time, no write. Although I do have three drafts started on the Word app on my tablet, my son had commandeered my tablet after his high school graduation and I had only been lucky enough to touch it two brief times since then.
Now that I'm on a training trip away from my family, I find that I have pockets of free time. And, bonus, I have my laptop back! Had to use it when I worked from home for a large retail company. But now that I'm in training for another work-at-home job (much better than the previous one), I get to have it back. At some point I will grab my tablet and transfer the drafted blogs and post them. So I was getting ready to leave my training day thinking that all I wanted to do was sit and decompress and write when I received a lovely "missing you" email, gently reminding me that I have a warm place to write - exactly what was on my brain. Someone was reading my thoughts.
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