Rough times going around.

So many thoughts running around in my mind. Where to begin? With the autistic child who laid his head in my lap and fell asleep, after spilling a smuggled bottle of bubble solution on my bed and a bowl of dry cereal behind my nightstand? I could sing of my beautiful daughter who brought me the most gorgeous little flower from outside because she said it was pretty like me, after I cleaned up the carrot shavings from the carrot she peeled after lunch. I can rave about my eldest son's uncanny ability to give me a random hug when I am in need of one, regardless of the fact that I raised my voice at him thirty minutes prior because his laundry basket was dumped into the hallway--the clean laundry. I may decide that I want to talk about the subtle way I am reminded exactly where my place is--and remembering what size my breeches are, so to speak. Mine own thoughts are plotting.

So many people dear to me heart are having a rough time about things. Life is hard sometimes. Life is cruel. People are cruel, and commonly extensively so. How do you tell someone who won't hear you that she is beautiful? How do you tell someone whose own thoughts are too loud to listen when you praise her intellect? How do you show someone who has made himself blind how talented he is? And how do I open myself so I can hear the good things people are saying about me? I wonder; I wonder.

I wish that people would just say what they mean. I wish that people would mean what they say. I wish that people talked to one another the way they wish to be talked to in return. I wish for loads of things that I have no control to change. I do, however, have complete control over one thing in this world--and that is my reaction to them. To those who tear me down, even passive-aggressively. To those who speak words that are intended to diffuse a situation but somehow alienate me. To those who undermine me to get ahead. To those who have something to say about my child and try to give me advice, though many of them have no children and can't possibly know what it is like to be where I am. I choose to live with grace and sanity. I choose to be kind and thoughtful. I choose to persevere in the face of adversity. And above all else, I choose love and loyalty, friends and family, kin and Kindreds, for these are what really matter to me. I think I made good choices.

You are good enough; these things just take time. You are beautiful, and I wish the opinions of strangers didn't effect you so deeply. You are extremely talented, and I am sorry if I have taken you for granted or held you back in any way. You are loved, and I know that is not enough, but I hope it will hold you over, at least long enough to get some sleep tonight. I love you all. I can be strong enough for us all. Lean on me, and I will hold you, but when you can stand on your own again, don't forget the rock beneath your feet...

Liturgy I Passed!

My rewrites were acceptable, and I have passed Liturgy I. Since this counts for four study programs, it makes me feel like I got a lot of bang for my buck, so to speak. :)

I have started History of Neopaganism and Druidism, but it is a little dry, which is not conducive to third shift writing. I picked up Comparative Mythology to be directly followed by New Comparative Mythology for General Bardic Studies I, as well. I find it overwhelming to realize how little I actually know about this religion I claim to follow. There are so many unanswered questions regarding the anthropology, history, lore, evolution and Neopagan skills in my head that I wonder sometimes at my ability to call myself a Druid.

Baby steps, baby steps.

Who needs spoons anyway?

Being a good Mom, you happily oblige when your autistic four-year-old brings an empty bowl over to the counter where you are preparing food and looks hopefully at the rice. You place a few scoops in the bowl, put in a spoon, and escort him to the table with his booty.

He doesn't want to sit, but you want him to eat, so you allow him to stand. He takes the spoon and puts it on the table. You put the spoon in his hand. He puts it back on the table. You put it in his bowl, and he waits. You don't put it back in his hand, because he has had a rough day and needs at least a few calories before bed. After a few moments, the food on the stove is in dire need of attention, so you resume the stirring and sauteeing. You are interrupted by a series of unhappy yells that you can only assume are your autistic child's version of cussing. He has rice on his hand and is yelling because he wants it off. You quickly get a rag, but he is really upset. The rice on the floor is now on the bottom of his sock, and he is frettingly trying to scrap it off, but now that rice is also sticking to his hands. Wailing, wailing.

You pick him up, take off his socks and wipe his hand on your shirt. He still wants the rice. You hand him the bowl, and he tries to run. He stops when he steps in the rice, so you seize the opportunity to pick him up and sit on the floor with him in your lap before he screams again. After a few tries, you let him back up. Now you are sitting on the floor, and he is in the corner of the kitchen trying to get past you--and take his bowl with him.

He puts the bowl down next to you but paces in his corner of the kitchen, making very unhappy sounds all the while. You smile, and in your most convincing and friendly voice, you say to him, "Help you" over and over while making the ASL sign for "help." Smile, sign, speak, repeat. Smile, sign, speak, repeat.

Finally, he walks over and sits in your lap. You get him to eat one bite with the spoon, which he then takes out of your hand and flings accross the kitchen. But he remains in your lap. He plunges his hand in the bowl, and eats the rice while you tell him he's a good boy and run your hand over his hair, kissing his head and rocking, ever so slightly.

After he has finished, you take the bowl to the sink and whisk him to a tub full of bubbles and boats. He is happy.

I hate spoons.

Sunburned, tired, and quite changed.

Well, I have heard others tell tales about coming home from a festival different, and I had experienced something not quite so drastic at Summerlands last year, but Wellspring--I had no idea.

I had a much different festival than most of the folks there, I am sure. I had a lot of personal issues to overcome (including computer issues, lost supplies that are necessary, and many many many instances of being given two choices and having to make a decision). I came to some life-changing decisions this weekend, some that affect a lot more people than I would like them to (some of whom are not going to be happy about it), but I think that I am finally in a place where I can evaluate the situation and make those tough decisions--even the hard ones that I don't want to make. This entire festival seemed to be one long lesson involving a crash-course in on-the-fly prioritizing.

I learned a lot about myself this weekend. I learned that I can be strong even when it makes others not like me very much. I have learned that there are plenty of folks who have a good opinion of me, even though there are a few who don't after this weekend. I learned that I am more talented than I credit myself. I learned that I can laugh at myself. Most of all, I learned that through whatever situation I find myself in, I have a list of people who will be there for me, and that is the biggest gift I could have asked to receive this weekend.

Special thanks to my Grovies, The Cranes, specifically Anna Gail, though you were all amazing all weekend long. I have long known that the Crane kin are my second family, but this weekend was such a display of familial love that I will never doubt my place among them.

See you all at Summerlands!

The Portrait of a Musician

Researching this article has lead me on so many tangents. I am never going to finish at this rate!Still reading Music, the Brain and Ecstasy. Still fascinated by it.

Many of you, if not all of you, are familiar with the fact that the left side of the brain is most associated with science and the right side with arts. Chapter two spends quite a bit of time explaining how the brain processes sound. Simply stated, most of the auditory nerves are always firing, even in silence, and the others only respond to changes in sound, firing only when a frequency intensifies or slides upward or downward (changes what we perceive as pitch). In the center of the brain, there is a primary auditory complex in which much of the activity is devoted to inhibiting the action of other neurons to simplify the incoming auditory data one sound at a time and suppressing noise. This prepares the sound for transmission to the secondary auditory cortex encircling it, in which the successive sounds are processed. The right brain also focuses on simultaneous sound, the whole chord, so to speak, including hierarchies of harmonic relations and overtones, and separates out one note from the next, creating/perceiving changes in tone: a melody. In addition, hearing a sound too many times in a row or for too long will cause the neurons to stop firing. This is why those buzzing machines become part of the background and you are no longer conscious of them. People sleeping with a fan on? That is because it is harder to process silence than it is to process sound.

Plus so much more you most likely don't want to hear about, no pun intended.

We know that the left brain is the place to be if you need to finish your math homework, and since most rhythm is essentially a series of fractions, the left brain is actually where the rhythm of a piece is divulged. There is a clear distinction made that places people into one of two categories, tonality or rhythm, depending on thier strength. How many of you know a Druid who is completely tone-deaf but can play a hand drum around a fire like nobody's business? So what does this all mean to us in ritual? Music involves both sides of the brain, simultaneously, regardless of strength. We each will focus more on either the tonality or the rhythm, depending on where our strengths lie, but music is a unifying force, within ourselves and with one another. We all hear a little differently, but when music, especially making music is a group project, it is by far the clearest way to connect the folk and draw them together to create that group mind. Also, it take a lot of energy to make a sound, and when you have that many people together, using both halves of their brains as a group, it's no wonder music is listed as the single most effective way to raise energy in a rite.

Oh, there is so much more that has me really excited about all of this, but I am afraid I am either going to go too far into the physiology and loose some of you or that I will talk forever--which is always a possibility with me. :) On a side note, musicians store infinite numbers of melody lines in the hippocampus and can draw on them at will. This is why some people can hear a few bars and tell you exactly what song it is and continue the molody, even if they haven't heard the song in ages. In fact, music makes a much stronger memory than words alone, and giving someone a few spoken lyrics, the brain will still find the corresponding melody. The majority of individuals hear better from the left ear, since the left side of the body is controlled by the right brain. Conversely, musicians hear better from the right. Professional musicians favor the left hemisphere for musical processing. They link and organize fragments of music by very abstract relations, and left brain function is necessary for long term, deep and mulit-layered understanding.

So, even when using the same sheet music, no two people ever sing the same song. It's just this kind of diversity in the midst of unity that we need in ritual. That's why music is a ritual device. Music allows us to maintain our independence while simultaneously drawing us together as one group mind. I am finding all that I ever needed and more to explain what I have known to be true for years. Now I just have to explain how to use it and get other people to do this with me in ritual space.

Music, the Brain and Ecstasy by: Robert Jourdain

In an effort to distract myself today, I sifted through some old books of mine to see what I might be interested in and low and behold! I found a diamond in the rough!Music, the Brain and Ecstasy is a scientific book about the mechanics of sound, specifically related to neurology. The first two sections of the book, which I just checked for accurate physiology, are about the way the brain hears and processes sound. The third section, which is the most useful for this essay on music as a ritual device, is entirely devoted to the way musical tones, melodies and harmonies make us feel. It describes emotional responses, including ecstasy and pleasure, and even describes the body's reactive response. All very cool. It has been quite a journey to find a credible source that doesn't use drumming as the only medium for induction of musical trance and describes the use of music to induce emotive responses. Haha, there is a whole chapter on the melody line from The Pink Panther. I have just begun to get into the meat of this book, but I will post any relevant thoughts as I make my way through it.

Poseidon and Being a Bard

As many of you know, I want to be a Bard when I grow up. In fact, it consumes me much of the time. I recently discovered that many of the Deities with whom I work are at least indirectly tied to my Bardic aspirations. Though not many of them, actually none of them, are known for instilling talent, all of the Deities with whom I work on a regular basis are strengthening the qualities in me that will make me a better Bard. (You know, when I grow up.)

For example:
Eos, the Goddess of the Dawn. Now she is inspiring. I find her to be one of the most awe-inducing and poetic Goddesses. What do she and I have in common? Empathy. We make other people feel what we feel, and in turn, we share in the pains and triumphs of others. Why is this important to Bardic arts? Good music is written when a writer is inspired. Inspiration is not far removed from empathy, and in fact can oftentimes be synonymous.

Athene is easy. She represents skill of any kind, and music or writing of any kind definitely takes some amount of skill! She is best invoked when practicing and honing those pieces that are nearing completion.

Persephone, Goddess of the Underworld. She triumphs over adversity. She makes the best out of the worst situations. She finds happiness where there is sadness. Bardic arts are like that. Ever been to a funeral where a guest told anecdotal pieces about the life of the recently departed that eased and soothed the folk gathered to mourn? Recognizing the sadness is important, but helping people heal and keeping them from wallowing is important. Bardic arts can have that power.

Persephone, Goddess of the Springtime. Rebirth. Growth. Death. Repeat. All things come in cycles, each part just as important as the last. However, after a period of death, as similarly related above, rebirth is highly anticipated and celebrated upon its arrival. Celebratory pieces, especially in times of war, were favored heavily in most of the IE cultures. Embracing happiness, and bringing it to the masses is a tool that can be used to enforce Unity among the folk. When people feel the same emotion, especially when that emotion is joy, there is bonding. Triumph draws people together, but celebrating that triumph keeps people together.

Hekate. (Ok, hear me out on this one. We are moving into the more abstract Deities. It has taken me a long time to work this all out, and it didn't come together until Poseidon, to whom I will get in a moment.) Hekate is a Goddess of Crossroads. She is also a guide to recently deceased individuals, among many other attributes. In Bardic terms, Hekate reminds me that there are jobs that need to be done, however unpleasant (like leading dead people to the Underworld), but someone has to do them. Learning to play chops, memorizing scales, vocal strengthening exercises. Much of the time, these things are not fun. Playing the same piece over and over again, and messing up continually can be frustrating, but you reach a crossroads, a point where you must decide to persevere or move on to something else. Hekate is there in that decision. She will show you the way, if you ask her. I know. I've done it.

And finally, the Deity of the hour, Poseidon, Dark-haired God of the Sea. This one threw me. Poseidon is always depicted as angry. He was greatly feared by anyone who had to cross the Mediterranean. Like I stated in a previous post, I am in no way an angry person. Heck, my kids laugh at me sometimes when I am mad (which just kills me). But, reading further into the lore, I found some interesting traits emerging. He did crash boats sometimes, yes, but he also helped those whom he wanted to succeed. He entered into competitions and lost. A lot. But he kept trying. Poseidon had great control over those things in his immediate world: the dolphins, the nymphs, the very sea itself, but he struggled outside of his element (those of you who know me are nodding your heads in understanding by now).

Poseidon is here to teach me that I am not always going to win, mostly likely I will fail a lot of the time. But it's ok. It doesn't diminish me. You may try to claim ownership to the title of God of Attika, but even if Athene wins, you are still the God of the Sea, and that is something that can't be taken away from you. Even if any one of a number of other very talented ADF Bards is crowned Wellspring Bardic Chair, I am still the bard of Three Cranes Grove, and that is something that can't be taken away from me. The more abstract version? Poseidon is here to teach me confidence, perseverance and above all else, an understanding of my place in the world which will lead me to contentment and happiness. I don't think I could really ask for a better gift.

I think I am understanding more about the nature of the Gods and the ways they interact with us. I know I have much more to learn, even if this theory is true, but I also know that regardless of my failings, there are others bigger, stronger and better equipped who are willing to help me when I am struggling and stand by me when I am not. In closing I will leave you with a modified version of a statement I like to make, in honor of Poseidon and his place in my life:

"Don't piss off your Sea God (Bard). You can either cross the sea with glory, or sink in pieces."