of the earth
LJ Idol week 25: closer (intersection week with lawchicky, whose entry on cesspools may be found here)
The midnight creek is full of stars, mirroring a sky that I do not yet know intimately. I grew up with the stars that you can see from the city. City stars are nestled among rosy clouds and low-flying planes. Here, in this wild silence, there are unfamiliar constellations. The trees sound like animals and the animals sound like children. There is always something moving in the dark. This could never be a haunted place though; it is too full of joy.
The last time I went camping, I was probably nine or ten years old. I grew up in the high desert of New Mexico and we went camping at least once a summer. I remember nights full of cicadas and sleeping bags that smelled like creosote. I remember feeling like I could hear god in the crackle of the campfire. At ten years old, I couldn't express such immensity of feeling, but I could write stories about it. (The above is a slightly adapted excerpt from one of those stories.) I'm going camping again this August for a week, with a fantastically fierce bunch of ladies. Even though I have a tendency to over-hype things, I think this will be one of those life-changing experiences.
As a self-professed city girl, I don't know exactly how I got talked into this. One of my friends emailed me a couple months ago when I was feeling particularly low and said "I know what you need...". The Michigan Womyn's Music Festival was her solution to my depression and the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Women-only spaces have often appealed to me (though I vehemently do NOT support trans-exclusion policies). And women-only space + beautiful forest + strong potential for a spiritual experience? Sign me the hell up! I expect the camping bit to require some adjustment on my part, but it's hard work that will have enormous benefits.
Today is Beltaine, one of the major sabbats. Thirteen years ago today, I declared myself a witch before the Goddess. Within that circle of candles, I became closer to the earth. Even though I was sitting on a driveway in the middle of California suburbia, I felt a deep connection to this planet. This is what belief has the power to do: it can transcend place and remind you of your deepest roots. It can bring you closer to whatever goddess or god you believe in. Even when you are sitting on a slab of concrete, you can still remember what bare earth feels like under your feet. You can still hear the trees talking.
♥ pacing while praying ♥ you are beautiful ♥ digging for buried crap ♥ we should all be narcissists ♥ ˌɪnkənˈsiːvəbl̩ ♥ juicy memories ♥ relax. breathe. bupkis. ♥ a gypsy heart ♥ a month of rain ♥ up is the new down ♥ your words, her silences ♥ ground rules for a hairless housemate ♥ the smell of particleboard in the morning ♥ from an aspiring spinster ♥ scarves & sweaters & shawls ♥ on emotional idiocy ♥ fairytale-maker ♥ betrayal by choice ♥ how to age gracefully ♥ San Francisco's smile ♥ not a needle but a drink ♥ Einstein I am not ♥ searching for ballon ♥
The midnight creek is full of stars, mirroring a sky that I do not yet know intimately. I grew up with the stars that you can see from the city. City stars are nestled among rosy clouds and low-flying planes. Here, in this wild silence, there are unfamiliar constellations. The trees sound like animals and the animals sound like children. There is always something moving in the dark. This could never be a haunted place though; it is too full of joy.
The last time I went camping, I was probably nine or ten years old. I grew up in the high desert of New Mexico and we went camping at least once a summer. I remember nights full of cicadas and sleeping bags that smelled like creosote. I remember feeling like I could hear god in the crackle of the campfire. At ten years old, I couldn't express such immensity of feeling, but I could write stories about it. (The above is a slightly adapted excerpt from one of those stories.) I'm going camping again this August for a week, with a fantastically fierce bunch of ladies. Even though I have a tendency to over-hype things, I think this will be one of those life-changing experiences.
As a self-professed city girl, I don't know exactly how I got talked into this. One of my friends emailed me a couple months ago when I was feeling particularly low and said "I know what you need...". The Michigan Womyn's Music Festival was her solution to my depression and the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Women-only spaces have often appealed to me (though I vehemently do NOT support trans-exclusion policies). And women-only space + beautiful forest + strong potential for a spiritual experience? Sign me the hell up! I expect the camping bit to require some adjustment on my part, but it's hard work that will have enormous benefits.
Today is Beltaine, one of the major sabbats. Thirteen years ago today, I declared myself a witch before the Goddess. Within that circle of candles, I became closer to the earth. Even though I was sitting on a driveway in the middle of California suburbia, I felt a deep connection to this planet. This is what belief has the power to do: it can transcend place and remind you of your deepest roots. It can bring you closer to whatever goddess or god you believe in. Even when you are sitting on a slab of concrete, you can still remember what bare earth feels like under your feet. You can still hear the trees talking.
♥ pacing while praying ♥ you are beautiful ♥ digging for buried crap ♥ we should all be narcissists ♥ ˌɪnkənˈsiːvəbl̩ ♥ juicy memories ♥ relax. breathe. bupkis. ♥ a gypsy heart ♥ a month of rain ♥ up is the new down ♥ your words, her silences ♥ ground rules for a hairless housemate ♥ the smell of particleboard in the morning ♥ from an aspiring spinster ♥ scarves & sweaters & shawls ♥ on emotional idiocy ♥ fairytale-maker ♥ betrayal by choice ♥ how to age gracefully ♥ San Francisco's smile ♥ not a needle but a drink ♥ Einstein I am not ♥ searching for ballon ♥