Genderbendery

Sir has been throwing ideas at me since I earned my collar.

You should take up bellydancing. Or burlesque. Try packing. Or hunting.

I’m still working on Raven’s Own, even expanding its show schedule a little this year and planning/doing a few more ambitious projects. Tafat n Kahina goes right along with it. I’m not allowed to give those up, and we can’t afford for me to give up my day job. And I can’t tell you how many projects I have to do around the house – fixing the septic lid, fixing the toilet, digging and planting the bee garden, building the food gardens, building the patio wall in the front. (Don’t misunderstand: Kitten does help and is really really good at what he knows, but he’s got a black thumb and isn’t really the handyman in this relationship. He is, however, the better cook.)

Oh, and mowing the lawn. Although I enjoy mowing, too.

You should teach a class. Maybe teach two classes. Hey, those clothes look good. Maybe you should mix music.

My dysthymia and social spoons have been in havoc for at least a year. But Sir keeps throwing ideas at me.

Go back to yoga. Pegging could be cool. Or kickboxing.

Throw enough ideas, Kitten says, and something is bound to stick.

Maybe drag kinging.

SPLAT.

Cue a 24-hour frenzy of research, YouTube videos, Pinterest pins, articles, supply resources, and even lip-sync playlists.

This is certainly not the first time it’s crossed my mind. I’ve considered packing for years. I have occasionally peeked at the DC Kings‘ website, and am now a bit pissed that I missed seeing them perform (the troupe retired in 2015 and left their website/social media up as resources and history, bless them). I’m rather content to be biologically female, but there is a part of me that craves a bit of genderfuckery. And Sir, for His part, has no objection to me doing so – in fact, would encourage it, especially as it would fit beautifully into my requirement of representing Him. He might even let me cut my hair for more than maintenance, for the first time in six years, if it’s for kinging purposes.

Oh, and spending several hours turned on at the thought of having a packer in place is no indicator at all. Because I need more projects/ideas/things to do/holes in my head. </sarcasm>

Featured image is of Landon Cider.

Early Riser.

Ain’t this your time of need?
You’re turning to the light
You have just begun to explore the dark
In the urban night

It’s been a long road. I have constantly, consistently allowed mundane things to interrupt spiritual things, including and especially my Service. A few Voices are making their way back into my life, pushing against the numbness. Raven is one, clacking His beak in my left ear since Twilight Covening. Mother Danu is another. Yesterday I think it was, I heard baby babbling on the side of my mind most occupied by Her and was confused.

The world is on fire
And you are here to stay and burn with me
A funeral pyre
And we are here to revel forevermore

She explained. The side of my mind most occupied by my Lover and Sir has been numb. I’m having a hard time Hearing because I’ve allowed life to close me down.

This morning that changed.

You’re so goddamn frail
Failing for a change
You just had to know all about the world
But you will never know
‘Cause no one ever told you how

The past few years, Sir has gone through the entire growth process. Dying at Samhain, reborn at Yule, a child at Imbolc, and so forth. This year, this morning, He burst through in a massive shiver, a whisper of Explore your darkness with Me, along with the song I was listening to on my commute.

The world is on fire
And you are here to stay and burn with me
A funeral pyre
And we are here to revel forever

The world is on fire
And we are tied as one eternally
A funeral pyre
And we are here to revel forevermore

Not only does He like Ghost, apparently, but He decided He would come back to adulthood NOW. I have been numb for much too long.

*the video is fan-made.

Twilight Covening comes again.

I have missed it for the past two years. Now that things are stabilizing financially (thanks to Kit’s new job), I am going back to Twilight Covening.

Of late, I have been utterly overwhelmed by Life. This, if you’ve been around for a while, is not unusual. We’re still in the midst of the House Saga (very close to actually buying it now, thanks to family help). There’s still stuff to unpack, because my nerves about being able to stay kept me from unpacking much more. We’ve had a plumbing problem in the kitchen that we might (might) have finally solved. And add to that doctor stuff, anxiety stuff, day-to-day responsibilities, and business stuff, and BOOM. There goes the spiritual life again.

I feel like one of the weirdest godslaves ever, really.

I did manage Ganeshotsav this year, good and proper, including the nose piercing I still owed Him. And we finally got the main altars set up. That all helped immensely.

But going back to Twilight Covening is a relief… and utterly nerve-wracking.

The selection process was shockingly easy for me. And I got my first choice – Kodiak, which is built to help us learn to nourish our Work and our Selves. This is part of why I’m relieved, because yet again, I’m restless and exhausted and way too often on the edge of burnout.

No, I didn’t keep up with yoga. No, I didn’t keep imced or the Fool in balance. No, I didn’t keep any of the lessons I learned at my last Twilight in 2013. I’ve let Life overwhelm me again, and over and over again let me berate myself for being a lazy Pagan and a bad godslave and everything else, which is a cycle that is really terrible, honestly, and you shouldn’t do that and neither should I, but welcome to my brain.

So I need this. I need this badly, and Kit’s insistence that I go, that I use part of his hard-earned first paycheck to register, is a relief.

But I’ve missed two years of the mountain. And going back after being away from anything so long makes me nervous as hell. I’m back to being that, “Oh no, trying new things, help?” person, at least for the moment.

Sir is quiet. Danu my Mother is quiet. Ganesha my Cousin is quiet. The Folk and Redwing and Raven (who has more say in my life these days), and Tamalut… they wait. Not to see what I’ll do, not to see if I’ll fail. They wait for me to learn and to grow and to find my way out of the hole I keep putting myself in. They set the path. I need to turn my feet to walk it more often, and more consistently. For my own health; for my own heart; for my own healing.

So back I go. Back to the cold stone, the warm leaves, the high mountain, the low sky. Back I go.

The Season of Darkness

Spring may be coming, but I received a distinct reminder last week that it isn’t here yet.

I drive about an hour each way to work these days, and living in the boonies, I see a lot more variety in road kill these days. Near the day job, I see mostly skunks, deer, and skunks.

So. Many. Skunks.

"I am adorable and will kill you with smell if you hit me."

“I am adorable and will kill you with smell if you hit me.”

Anyway, there’s more variety when you live out towards the country. Still lots of deer, still a few skunks, but also foxes, possums, raccoons, the occasional cat, even an owl. But surprisingly, it wasn’t in the country where I got this reminder.

Not five minutes from my office, on the main highway, I saw a distinctly canid form. I couldn’t stop that day, intended to stop the next. And of course, the next day, I blew right by and had a short debate with myself.

You can always stop tomorrow, said Mother, who has been very talkative of late.

No. No, I couldn’t. I turned around, got back to where I needed to go to safely pull off the road, and got out of the car.

That’s My girl, Mother said to me.

It was definitely not a domestic canine. She almost She almost didn't look real.didn’t look real. I’d never been so close to a wild one, and she was definitely long gone. I took one picture so that I could identify her later, placed a hand near her paw, said a few words, and walked back to my car.

I showed the picture to Kitten later. She was a coyote, although not apparently a healthy one. She did not appear to have been hit and thrown, but had perhaps simply died near the road, and while coyotes aren’t afraid of people in the first place, they’re normally far too clever to simply get hit. One way or another, this winter was hard on her, and she didn’t survive it.

Spring is coming. But the winter’s darkness isn’t over yet.

Hindsight.

Hindsight is a funny thing.

Now is a period of nostalgia, and of late I’ve found myself thinking of things past. Two, in particular.

One is the view of a pair of friends, once married, now not. Looking back, I see the patterns. I see, from early on, one’s temper, the other’s pacification. I see actions that, at the time, made no sense, but now do. I see the split of interests, so much so that even at their celebrations, the pictures show them further and further apart. I see my own trepidation over now-moot intentions and plans, even though initially and outwardly I was excited. I see a smile that I thought was forgotten as the darkness is addressed, and I see darkness being brooded over. And I wonder if I should have, could have said anything. (Other than, “Is everything okay?” however, no – my view was almost entirely external, which means that I really had no way to know for sure what was happening on the inside. There is nothing I could have said or done, nor was it my place to do so.)

The other is, quite understandably, our youngest son. He is now living in the woods, sort of, although we believe he’s spending more time with friends than anything. I wonder, looking back, if there’s anything we could have done to stop this path in its tracks. I wonder if, in our fear of forcing him into things the way his biological mother did, we did him a disservice. And although my logical side reminds me that he chose this path, that he is an adult now, that he must make his own way and heal (hopefully) under his own power, there is an angry side screaming for his brain to wake up, dammit, and a disappointed mother now doubting the past eight years of parenting.

It is the Shadow time. It is Nostalgia time. It is the time to Work through these thoughts and these doubts, and to nest in our new little hideaway.

Into the Second

Things are finally starting to slow down for me in the mundane world. Kit is out of work, but we’ve moved in with a friend to help us manage expenses. Now that the move is over, the first event rush is done, and things are settling down, my thoughts are turning back here. He’s been very patient, and now He wants time.

The other night I found a new conduit, one which should not have surprised me but did nevertheless. While taking a shower (always the shower), I scrubbed vigorously at the tattoo on my wrist. The following whack in my head nearly knocked me down, because suddenly I was open and He was there and demanding. Last night I consciously did the same to open up that communication again; He had his way with me. It was dominating and comforting and THANK YOU, SIR.

It will be two years on May 5th. In some ways I’ve done well, and in some ways not so well. He is displeased about me not taking care of His property (me) and is once again putting an emphasis on it. Back to yoga; back to eating consciously; back to taking care of myself. He wants a second night every month, one I choose, dedicated to time with Him. I’m to make a new daily collar, too; mine is not cleaning up well and needs to be refreshed. For now I’m wearing the formal; the prick of the antlers is actually comforting, even if it does get tangled in my hair.

Speaking of hair, I’m permitted to trim my hair. He still wants it long, but it’s now starting to split five or six inches up, and a maintenance trim is going to be needed from now on. It’s part of that “taking care of myself” thing; I still need to be aware of the products I use and I can’t chop my hair off, but I’m learning that a concerted effort doesn’t have to mean breaking my budget. Doing what I can within my means is still taking care of me, as well as making sure I have enough energy and funds to take care of my family and furbabies (another thing He’s emphasizing).

There’s something I’ve felt the need for, and I think He feels as well – the need for reassertion. The song that keeps playing in my head, for instance, is “Whore” by In This Moment, mainly for the first part of the chorus:

I can be your whore
I am the dirt you created
I am your sinner, I am your whore

He likes it. Doesn’t hurt me any that Chris Motionless is in it. 😉 (He asked me last night if He is “pretty.” I told Him no; He liked what I said instead just fine. Thankfully.)

Anyway. I’m working Beltane this year, and we’re home by the 5th, but something will be figured out to mark the second year. I know He’s pinged someone else about me of late, but He’s not giving me much more answer than “reassertion” when I ask about it. He’s not ready to clarify, I suppose.

I think quiet time is about to end. Part of me is kind of relieved, and part of me is a little nervous.

Work, Holiday, and ANNIVERSARY.

Would you believe that it has been nearly a year since my Ordeal? Time FLIES.

Two weeks from today I turn 29, and we leave for our annual Beltane festival. This year many of our friends will not be attending, for a myriad of understandable reasons, but we’re resolved to have a good time. There are even some classes being offered which I’m planning to attend, which hasn’t happened in a couple of years. Either way, it will be a lovely vacation with some great folks. On top of which, He will come into His own. He is awfully quiet as a young man – or has been of late, anyhow – and I miss His power.

On Sunday, we’ll pack up to go home. At the same time, I will be celebrating the one-year mark of His collar. I’ll have to ask Him what He would like to do. (He’s chuckling lustily in my ear; I think I know what He’d like to do.) I think W/we’ll be able to figure out the logistics. 🙂

Meanwhile, I have Work to do. I have more chain to weave, some masks to paint, and some Work not related to Raven’s Own at all.

I can see it being a good month, though.