Tag: Mumbling

posts that aren’t about anything specific, just a general update on life or thoughts

Posted in [miscellaneous experiments], [writer stuff]

Collecting Memories

Posted on by Larissa Lee

I went through a box the other day. It was full of papers and folders, various old documents I’d been needing to organize. As I rummaged through my poetry, notes passed in high school, yearbook inserts, and random research printouts, I realized something about myself.

Some people collect trinkets, ticket stubs, and pictures. I collect memories.

Everyone keeps memories of their past, good and bad. The striking ones stay in their minds, while others fade quickly.

Mine just stay.

I’ve always had a moderately photographic memory. It’s not as awesome or awe-inspiring as those who skim a book and can name the exact pages that include the word “rainbow” on them. But it’s strong enough to remember a pattern when it’s seen again, even if I don’t remember registering it before. It’s strong enough to remember a face years after a name is forgotten. And it’s strong enough for a smell to send me crashing back to a very specific moment in time and space.

The taste of fake watermelon, like bubble gum, makes my pulse race as I flash back to sitting in the hospital in Germany, not understanding anyone or knowing why my mom had fallen to the floor in a seizure. Panic rises and I feel nausea creeping up on me. My mother’s seizure was in the summer of 2002, while we were stationed in Wiesbaden, Germany.

The smell of wet sand, even in El Paso, often sent me back to moments on the beach in California as a kid. My dad would occasionally get up really early with us (or just me) and go for a beach walk. Last time I smelled wet sand, I remembered a trip with Derek and Dad. We went to a part of the beach where you had to climb down a sloped rock face to get to the sand; we had to be careful, because it was a real climb, not just a steep hill. I don’t remember much beyond that flash of a moment, but I clearly feel the rough lava rock and cement chunks under my hands. I can feel the cold breeze from the ocean as it blows my hair around. I lived in California from 1993 to the middle of 1997, so that trip is jumbled in time.

My space heater got really toasty under my desk last week. That particular morning, the feeling of my skin reacting to the direct heat flashed me back to my grandma’s old house. She had a bench swing with a cloth cover, and I once laid on it in the summer sun of Washington to take a nap. That happened in 2005, just before I started college in the Fall. I know there are other memories of the same bench and similar naps, but my mind travelled to that specific experience.

Memory is a boon sometimes.

In smaller, less intense ways, it’s helped me with my jobs. When I worked in the bookstore, I could tell you where a book was and whether we had it with about 90% accuracy without the use of our computer system. As part of my duties, I alphabetized sections throughout our department, as well as putting up new stock. This process had me looking at all shelves and all books on a semi-regular basis, which allowed my mind to collect data. Even if I wasn’t sure about the title of a book, if I was told “It’s mostly orangish-red with a blue streak down the front, but I don’t know what it’s called” I could go straight to “The 50 Laws of Power” in our Politics section.

In my current job, it’s helped me to remember why a student had a hold, even if there wasn’t a thorough note in the system. For example, the hold might say “Needs to verify residency status based on answers to residency questions”, but I remember they claimed no affiliation with the military yet wrote a note in comments about their sponsor. That may not make too much sense to you, but for someone asking about the student, that’s information from half a dozen questions on the application. If I entered the application, I remember the name the minute I see it. There was even a student once who typo’d in their own name, but when I pulled them up and explained that they needed to verify it with an ID card, they claimed the “person who entered it” did it wrong; I grabbed their app and showed them the typo (Ahsley instead of Ashley, or something similar). There was no note in the system, just my memory of thinking that they’d probably need to get that corrected; I’m not allowed to assume someone mistyped their own name, so I enter applications “as is”.

Memory can be a pitfall, making relationships a deliberate measure of pros and cons.

I can’t forget. It’s not that I don’t believe in the idea of “forgive and forget”. I just don’t have the capacity to forget things, especially if they affected my emotions in a dramatic way. I’ve had to learn to file away every argument, every laugh, every tear into a folder with your name on it. With purpose, I filed away those memories you create; with purpose, I objectively re-exam them when new ones are added. If our relationship’s balance falls too far into the negative, I end it. It sounds clinical and harsh, but it’s all I can do. I’ve tried to pretend before, and bad relationships turned into abusive ones.

However, I hold myself to a personal, ethical standard. I will never use unrelated past memories in a current argument. Ever. If we’re fighting about money, then only money-related memories are allowed out of the file. If we’re arguing over your family, then only family-related issues surface. I will not budge. As long as you fight fair, so will I. A good memory is no excuse for poor behavior.

Memory gets complicated, too. Especially when it’s missing pieces.

I worked at the bookstore for two years, and now the college for two as well. There are faces I see now, shopping for groceries or browsing a store, that I can’t place. My mind remembers them, even speaking to them in depth, but it can’t remember which job they’re from. Most conversations I remember weren’t work-specific, but instead involved a book they saw me reading or a shared like of my chainmail pentacle necklace.

I have moments that confuse me. A smell, a flash of color, a sound. Suddenly I’m scared, or angry, or panicked… and I don’t know why. My mind flickers with a memory, but I can’t grasp it enough to pin it down. All I can tell myself is that it *is* a reaction to a memory, and then I soothe myself as my mind races to find the source. Those are my least favorite memories, the ones that hit and run hard.

Going through the box of papers had me looking through my junior and senior yearbooks. I could tell you a memory of every single person in my class, as well as the one before it (thanks to my brother and smart kids in advanced classes, regardless of grade). I may not remember a name, but show me a face and I have a story. Show me a classmate, and I have even more; there will be jokes, relationships, a map of their high school experience in my sphere of memory.

I can’t give you directions to follow, but plunk me down at my old house in Germany and I could walk you to the Buch Habel (bookstore) downtown, using all the shortcuts that foot travel can allow. The same goes for anywhere I’ve lived; if I were there again, I could tell you everything in the sphere of my existence there. Clearly, I didn’t walk all over Fort Knox; my memories of locations are all within a couple miles walk of the house we lived in. But I could draw you a detailed map of Bamberg’s army base, considering it was a 2×2 mile dot of America in Germany. I can still map out Hastings for you, both the old store layout and the new one, from memory. The same goes for my Walmart and HEB, though I have three of both within 30 minutes of my house (so I don’t have all three memorized… yet).

I could draw a floor plan of every house I’ve lived in since first grade. And every classroom. I can draw you (with my meager skills) the exact branches of the two trees we often climbed in California. Or the “map” of the “village” we LARPed in as children, off to save some daft princess (after I argued my way out of playing that part… I liked Xena too much to be a normal princess). I can tell you exactly where I was for each poem I ever wrote, while I was writing it, and why.

My memories are what I took from place to place. Normal people, who grow up living in one or two places in a normal town, get to collect stuff and friends. I collected books and knicknacks for a long while, but mostly I collected memories. Moments are my life’s currency, the payments received for being awake and aware as I move through the world.

I try to view my memory as a gift. It made me smart, by allowing me to absorb ridiculous amounts of information quickly and with little effort. It made me friendly, by allowing me to speak to people as they needed to be spoken to (in both speech and body language). It made me wise, by allowing me to infer connections between very distant experiences and points of data; my mind is like a giant web of facts, figures, and ideas. Riding my thought-trains takes a bit of courage and focus.

In getting to know myself all over again, I’m working on and with my memories. Reviewing what we think we already know sometimes yields surprising results.

Posted in [witchcraft & wonder]

the Quiet

Posted on by Larissa Lee

Quiet.

I’ve been seeking myself in the quiet for the last two months. I haven’t blogged or journaled. I haven’t had any deep philosophical and spiritual discussions on the meaning of life. I haven’t read anything new (or old) on my path, nor have I studied the path of another.

My life has been still.

I’ve contemplated my place in existence, my path, and my goals. I’ve thought over my ethics and morals, as well as where I got them. I’ve reviewed my actions, past and present, against the backdrop of spirituality. All of these intense, introspective thoughts have bounced around and around in my mind and heart. I’ve come to realize I don’t know myself.

I’ve left myself be two beings, separated by imaginary things.

One of them is a being based in who I believe myself to be. She’s the one who loves the color purple, because she always has (hasn’t she?). She’s the one who dives into Greek mythology and worship with a furvor and passion unmatched by any other. She’s the one who has the amazing ideas about places our spiritual path is taking us, and how much we’ve changed. She’s also the one who’s wrong.

The other being is me, the real me. She’s the one who recognizes a love for cool colors, regardless of shade. She’s the one who groks our connection to Wicca and what our spiritual path truly looks like ahead. She’s the one who accepts alternate views while maintaining a core foundation of spirituality that I didn’t think I had. She’s the me I’ve been speaking to in the stillness.

I’ve spent the last four years on a giant detour. I’ve played with labels, and paths, and styles of magic. I’ve studied subjects I never would’ve dreamed of studying when I started down my path in 1999. Vampirism, therianthropy, shamanism, Asatru, the Ordeal path, color therapy. I dove head first into a pagan tradition and coven hierarchy, only to climb out feeling a little jaded but changed for the better.

Now, it’s time to regroup.

I’m a Wiccan. I’m more flexible than a traditionalist, but I’m still Wiccan; in fact, you could say I’m a Standing Stones Wiccan, having grown up on the teachings of Scott Cunningham (and his Standing Stones tradition). I’m not a pagan with Wiccan tendencies. Not a witch with Wiccan flavor. I’m a Wiccan. People fight over that word, and it’s silly. If my beliefs and practices align with the beliefs and practices of Wicca, then I’m a Wiccan. (It’s just like Christianity. You can choose to read your Bible at home and avoid church, yet still be a Christian if you believe in God and Jesus and all that jazz.) No matter what path I wander off onto, I always end up back at Wicca.

That said, I’ve been working on a framework for my practice and worship. I’ve always been very impromptu and go-with-the-flowy, but I enjoyed the stability of coven practice enough to want my own SOP (Standard Operating Procedures) for rituals and spellwork. It’s a work in progress, because other Life Stuff has been a priority these past months (work, getting a new car, making baby plans). But as the solstice approaches and the beginning of a huge change is upon us, I feel the need to refocus and make a commitment to myself.

2013 is going to be a wild ride…

Posted in [miscellaneous experiments]

What if…

Posted on by Larissa Lee

If you could only eat what you were willing to grow and kill yourself, what would your diet look like?

Let’s start with some facts.

Fact #1: I don’t hunt. It has nothing to do with ethics and everything to do with a lack of know-how and opportunity. I also don’t fish (minus the extremely rare occasion here or there).

Fact #2: I used to have a green thumb. With Texas plants, I’ve been having a horrid time. However, I think it’s a combination of bad luck (my cat pissed in my pots!), poor planning (non-Texas plants in Texas), and adjustment (forgetting that an outdoors Texas plant will not like the sudden cold of my indoor, air-conditioned house). Outside of my Texas experience, I’ve always had a green thumb and been just fine growing any number of plants.

Fact #3: I’m an adventurous eater. I’ve purposefully sought out “strange” foods, like blood sausage, chicken heart stew, and ostrich. I enjoy trying new things, and I’m not squeamish about it.

Now, my answer to the original question. What would my diet look like?

First of all, I’d no longer be eating breads and pastas. Wheat is not a plant I’d want to expend energy and resources trying to cultivate. My foods would be things like cucumbers, bottleneck squash, and tomatoes. I’d grow root veggies, though having never done so I’d probably learn how to do so the hard way. I’d also try to cultivate berries and fruit trees; however, the trees would be planted and left to thrive or die (they take a couple years to be producers, from what I recall). I’d want low-maintenance foods, and if the chance were provided before having to grow on my own, I’d do a TON of research on what does well in Texas naturally.

Secondly, I’d still eat meat. Mind you, I lack the skills to hunt. I wouldn’t be eating cow, pig, or deer unless someone taught me those skills (and provided equipment for it) or traded me for some of my veggies. However, I have no problem fishing and catching things like crawfish. Also, I know I could wring a chicken or rabbit’s neck if I wanted meat. As I said, I’m not squeamish. Pigeons would be nice, too, assuming I had access to urban areas and a net (hehehe).

Lastly, I wouldn’t waste. I don’t kill the chickens and cows that make their way to my dinner table. But if I were in a situation where I was killing my own chicken for dinner, I’d definitely be cooking any and all organ meats. The same thought applies to all animals; I’d finally be able to take part in making the most of an animal’s sacrifice.

My final thoughts on this question is that it would all depend. Why am I only able to eat what I grow and kill? If it’s because of a social shift, like everyone in this town is doing it or something, then there’s a gradual build up to self-maintenance of food sources. But if it were a apocalyptic situation, all decisions would depend on the overall state of humanity. (Meaning, if there are zombies walking around I’m not planting a garden outside.)

I also know that some of my friends would become vegetarians. They admittedly couldn’t bring themselves to kill an animal (other than small fish or crawfish) on their own. I can understand that, in a society where many of us never interact with an animal other than a cat or dog at home. We don’t understand our food sources except in a distant, disconnected way. Maybe that will change… maybe…

Posted in [miscellaneous experiments]

Calling all -Tarians!

Posted on by Larissa Lee

Vegetarians, Flexitarians, and all other -tarians out there! Help!

How do you deal with our reality? When so much of what we have access to (food-wise, and product-wise) contains toxic chemicals… When so many things go unlabeled in products we use daily… When even trying to buy only what you need (versus what you want) exposes you to these chemicals over and over… When your abilities and resources don’t allow you to access the perfect foods all the time… How do you handle the overwhelming sense of dread, the depression associated awareness of a problem that is unsolvable on the individual level?

I read the news, and I often read the Green section on various sites, learning all sorts of new and wonderful things… as well as harsh realities. The poisons in our waters, our ground, our food, and our very houses. I can’t avoid them. I can’t go back in time and rebuild my rental house as a green home full of safe products. I can’t stop the societal structures that control the way my water is processed, the way businesses run, the way cars aren’t forced to go greener, and so on. I can’t guarantee that my healthy choices are actually any better than old ones (look at BPA and it’s replacements). So much of the exposure I’m forced to endure is literally out of my hands, regardless of the choices I make.

I can’t live off the grid, self-sufficient. That would require money to start off such an endeavor, as well as skills I don’t possess. And I like my Netflix, thank you very much! But more importantly, I don’t think I could adapt to complete removal from a society I’ve been indoctrinated into my whole life. (To be honest, it’s the money more than anything that stops me. If I had the money, I’d plop it down on a house made as green and grid-free as possible… but that’s pricey!)

I eat as a flexitarian to try and make a change, for my health and the planet. I love vegetarian food, and I’m okay with rarely including meat in my diet. When I finish with my newest stint as a vegetarian, I intend to stick to the “green” meats at my local Nature’s Grocer. They’re pricey, but they’re better for me and Earth. But I can’t always afford to spend the money it takes to get the greenest veggies and products. And I’m uneducated, slowly building my own awareness of what is bad and how to replace it.

It’s so frustrating! Overwhelming! Maddening!

How can we avoid sinking and giving up, when faced with so much impossibility? My great grandchildren, if lobbying and global change happens, might get to enjoy a cleaner world with fewer hard choices… but I’m pretty much screwed. I’m 25, a quarter of the way through a long life. Too many issues are stacked against us at this time, too much to change in the short time between generations. I’m scared for us all, because yelling and screaming and begging are failing to bring the world’s attention to our emergency. How can that change, when people are so willing to experience extreme climate change first hand and pretend it’s a fluke? How can we save ourselves?

I guess my main question to any of my readers is this: How do you handle the stress of living on this planet today?

Posted in [miscellaneous experiments]

Living in Star Trek

Posted on by Larissa Lee

Note 1: Star Wars junkies, I’m sorry. But the technology of lightsabers and death stars is still pretty far off. Holograms, less so (Tupac, anyone?). I’m not trying to be mean and pretend we’re not also advancing toward a Star Wars style universe, but let’s face it… Star Wars wasn’t based around the evolution of Earth and the human race; it was about other planets, imaginary and removed from our own track of evolution and growth.

Note 2: I’m only a mild Trekkie. I don’t like the classic series, I own almost no collectibles (one tin doesn’t count), and I can’t quote anything. For a fair measure of my Trekkie-ness, I can use either hand to do a Vulcan salute, I can describe almost any episode I’ve watched with a decent amount of detail (I’m a natural storyteller), and I’d totally buy a “Learn Klingon” language CD set if I saw one, just for kicks.

I found myself completely thrilled earlier this week, though, while watching “Star Trek: The Next Generation”. Captain Picard was looking over a report, and then LaForge showed him something in Engineering… and I had a geek epiphany.

We have tablets just like Star Trek. We have wireless data transfer. We have the ability to synchronize two or more devices to each other. We have touch screens and machines that can process data faster than we can enter it. We have memory storage capacities that rival the human brain on a good day. We HAVE Star Trek.

Think about it. I have my Kindle Fire tablet, which I use for most of my online activities. I can access my bank (another computer system), I can make purchases (a merchant system), I can find friends and dates (a social system), I can find data on almost anything (with critical thinking, an information system)… I can then send that information and interactivity to my smart phone, or a desktop computer. I can get on my XBox 360 and do the same. I can also find an app for almost anything, like one that tells me if any of the stores near me sell sunglasses. I never have to disconnect from information about the world around me, things I couldn’t know just by looking at a person, place, or thing.

Some people don’t like that. But stick with me, it gets better.

Then add our growing ability as a species to adapt and multitask. Another moment earlier this week had me suddenly aware of my normal activities for about ten minutes at work. I was doing data entry on college applications (my job), clicking on news articles between portions (to keep myself informed), drinking my water, checking my work email when something popped up, tapping my Kindle on the desk to awaken it and change the song playing in my headphones, and answering my phone. No task caused me to lose focus on the others; it is my process, steamlined to synchronize the steps with my natural rhythm. Everything gets done, nothing gets overlooked.

We’ve evolved to this point.

I’m very happy with it. While I agree that the affect electronics and the like are having is intimidating, I believe too many people fear dramatic change. And changing to be almost Borg, integrating technology so inclusively into our lives, is a dramatic decision.

(Another note: the Borg weren’t always scary, crazy assimilators. They started off wanting to provide the perfect integration of individual skills into a group use… it just got WAY out of hand.)

How do YOU feel about living in Star Trek?

Posted in [writer stuff]

The Burden of the Young

Posted on by Larissa Lee

The burden of the Young is youth.

Youth means you don’t know what’s right. If you say the right thing, you’re “mature for your age”. If you do the wrong thing, you’re just too young to know better. If you share modernized, creative solutions for current and on-going problems, you’re an idealist and will “get it when you’re my age”.

Without years of experience, even college education means little when age is taken into consideration. Without years of living, regardless of what experiences that time provided, a young person lacks a depth of understanding of the world we live in.

It’s not fair.

We have brains, and *unless you’re saying the education system is a complete failure* we’ve been taught to use them. We’ve learned critical thinking skills, as well as how to information-gather on far larger scales than just a decade or two ago. We have innovative and creative ideas. For example, a girl in college grew mushrooms in her dorm room that were later turned into a complete green plastic-like packaging product that is highly biodegradable, non-toxic, and cheap. We’ve learned to adapt to our environment, to accept differences of opinion and practice; we proactively discuss sex, religion, and politics for fun! Once, those were topics you avoided talking to strangers about; now, they’re ice-breakers for the Young. We can agree to disagree. We can compromise. We bend instead of breaking.

We are phenomenally valuable as a natural resource, and we are being ignored.

That’s a lie. We’re viewed as bodies, not brains. The Young are recruited as fodder for political actions in other countries. And we die. Or we return, bodies broken and cynicism deeply rooted in our psyches. As a country, the United States is destroying its Young. We, the Young, cry out for help…

…because our voices, even together, are small. We are ignored like a fussy toddler.

Poll the age group of 18-30, and we have very specific views on what’s wrong, how to fix it, and where to compromise between party lines. To us, it’s *so simple*. Examples: Legalize marijuana, but tax it to death like tobacco and treat it like alcohol (no high-driving allowed, because you’re under the influence). Legalize gay marriage, then give all Justices of the Peace and pastors/preachers/churches the right to refuse to perform the ceremony (make the couples find someone willing, and no one unwilling will be “tainted” by the act). Stop trying to babysit the entire world (especially places like the Middle East, where there has *never* been peace); bring our soldiers home *for real* and work on our own economic and social woes (the cuts in spending would assist our retardly overgrown deficit).

Why is it so hard to grasp the obvious? Why are politicians on *both* sides failing to compromise?

Last year, when the budget was due and the debates were tight over items attached to it… WHY did the military mid-month paychecks get posted with a zero balance? It only lasted for a few hours, but why did our government go so far with it’s unwillingness to cooperate as to (for lack of a better phrase) screw over thousands of military members and their families? I sat here listening to my coworker, an army spouse, as she lived through the fear of making ends meet. It’s no rumor, or overblow media story; it’s a governmental failure that *I witnessed*.

I am Young. I don’t quite have my Associates Degree (which will be useless as is, but that’s a different rant). I’m voting for the first time this election, only my second opportunity to do so as a qualifying adult. I cooperatively live with two other working Young, which is the only reason I’m not on governmental or state assistance.

I don’t expect to have everything my way. I’ve a very liberal-minded, green-focused, polyamorous pagan person. There’s no way the whole country could conform to my personal beliefs, *nor do I expect them to*. There is only one expectation I hold that I can guarantee crosses all parties, all ages and races:

I expect communication, cooperation, and compromise between my elected representatives.

Maybe I’m naive, but I don’t think that’s too much to ask. Do you?

Posted in [witchcraft & wonder]

Gifts

Posted on by Larissa Lee

If perception is reality, then my reality is intense and close at all times.

I can hear the wall of shrubs next to me as I walk beside the building I work in. I can taste the preservatives and artificial flavors in my foods, even ones I used to love. I can feel the subtle changes in air pressure and flow around me. I can smell when I woman is on her cycle (not my favorite thing in the world, I’d like to say). I can see patterns and remembered what I’ve seen or read with nearly-photographic memory.

I can explain away all of these things with science, if I were so inclined.

I “hear” the wall due to the echo of my own steps being directed back at close range. I can taste preservatives due to the mostly-natural diet I went on previously; it re-sensitized my taste buds, so the chemicals stand out as not being up-to-par with natural flavors. I feel the air pressure just like everyone else, I just pay more attention to it. My sense of smell is not better than anyone else’s, again I’m just paying more attention to the smells around me. My mind is clearly very sharp, so remembering what I see isn’t a surprise.

I can explain these skills with my therianthropy, with having been a snow leopard in a recent past life or having a snow leopard soul in my body.

My senses are all far superior to human senses. My ears, nose, eyes, and mouth all work toward survival and maintaining awareness of my surroundings. Cats have a natural “spidey sense” that comes from a combination of natural senses and the small bits of information they constantly collect.

I can give a spiritual explanation to these gifts as well.

I hear the shrubs because I’m hearing their spirits talk to me (as an animist, everything has a spirit). I can taste the unnatural things in my foods, because their energy clashes with mine (think of the toxins we consume, my body is warning me when I take them in). I’m an Air sign, I feel the air around me as energies ebb and flow; the world is in constant flux. I sense a woman’s moon cycle through smell, a therian’s gift for recognizing the fertility in those around me. My eyes see patterns to increase my spirit’s ability to syncronize with the world around me.

All that said, I can say that I am gifted with an intense, personal view of reality regardless of explanation.

A wise teacher once said that anything could be a gift, not just the big things. She was speaking of magickal gifts, of psychic talents. A small gift is still a gift. The ability to change the flavor of water. The ability to always know when to speed and when to follow the speed limit exactly (without seeing a cop or being familiar with the area). The ability to get any dog to like you, even the mean ones. The ability to pick up and use any athame with a moment’s notice.

We are all gifted. We take things for granted, because there are smarter, better, faster, stronger (lol) people in the world. But I am only myself; I cannot be the woman who can speak 20 languages, or the man who can write an entire computer program in minutes, or the child that can already play half a dozen instruments (with skill) at the age of 5. I can only be me, the girl who senses this world with intensity and focus.

Posted in [writer stuff]

Fiction or Non-fiction?

Posted on by Larissa Lee

It’s almost May 2012, and for the first time in almost a year I can hear my muses singing (and screaming) at me to WRITE.

I’ve heard their whispers off and on in the past year. A blog here, a review there. An epic conversation on a community board, or a workshop discussion at festival. But for the most part, the muses have been silent. Waiting.

The noise of inspiration after so much time without it has me unfocused, unsure of where to go. Do I write fiction, picking a storyline from the anthology in my head and putting it to paper? Or do I write non-fiction, taking the spiritual and social concepts I have and turning them into something for others to learn from?

Example stories in fiction include:

– a story following the life of a therian girl. While most mundane people aren’t aware of Otherkin and the like, I would tell the story in a way that describes and shows how I view my own therianthropy. It’s the moments of walking through the trees on the pads of my feet, senses open and aware of the sounds around me… of times when you can almost feel your tail twitch with annoyance or in preparation for a “hunt”.

– a retelling of stories and myths I love. Imagine retelling all of your favorite folklore, but with a twist. Or telling non-traditional stories of why the sun rises each morning, or why humans evolved. This would be more like a collection of children’s stories, though I’ve also played with writing a storyteller’s book to be told to any age group.

– a rewriting of my old stories. I have a few gems I loved, but I didn’t write well. When I read them, I can see in my head what I wanted to show to the reader… but I lacked the skill at the time. For example, there’s the story of the girl on fire who saves everyone at the cost of herself… the story of the girl who struggles with the reality that nothing is black and white in a conflict between two powers. (Notice: I’m a girl, so most of my main characters have been girls. Duh.)

Examples of non-fiction ideas include:

– a book on the lost arts. Kids are barely learning to write their names in cursive, and many lack even basic penmanship as computers are the norm from an early age. Letter writing, etiquette and manners (like how to properly answer/end a phone call), basic cooking and household skills. Even I lack many of the skills I think we should reinforce, and studying them while writing would be fun.

– a book on paganism on the go. I grew up an Armybrat, so an example would be explaining ways to cope with moving to different climates and different opportunities (living by a beach, living in a desert). There’s also the use of mobile altars and impromptu magick, including the core understanding that tools are just props for the mind.

– a book on paganism as I see it. This is harder, because I’m a young and “uninitiated” pagan. It would have to do with how I see the current Wiccan movement, on blurred lines and walking one’s own path. I’d probably also speak about “Stranger in a Strange Land”, in how my own beliefs match those of the book.

The problem here is focus. I’d like to take the time to write something productive, but my muses are more than happy to push out random ramblings left and right with no purpose. My goal is to publish via Amazon’s Kindle market, maybe start making a little money from my writing while sharing it with others.

I’ve considered writing on one fiction AND one non-fiction topic, giving my creative side a chance to be serious as well as purely creative. Any opinions on where I should focus?

Posted in [witchcraft & wonder]

the Ethical Omnivore

Posted on by Larissa Lee

It took me longer than I intended to find the time to think about being an Ethical Omnivore. We have CMA festival coming up in two weeks, has more information. But as part of the festival, I signed up to possibly do a workshop on the ethics of being an omnivore.

My diet is pretty light. I eat a lot of grainy breakfasts (oatmeal, a bagel, sometimes cereal) and a lot of meatless lunches (today is “shrimp-flavored” ramen, because grocery day is Friday). Dinner is my main meat meal, and even then it’s usually a small portion of meat with a huge portion of sides.

I grew up with half my plate covered in grilled steak at least 2-3 times a week. I didn’t mind it, until I became a pescatarian (eating only seafood as a meat product) for a few years. After I converted back to eating regularly, I just couldn’t stomach those huge portions of meat anymore. Even favorites like baked chicken are limited to two smaller pieces or one breast (realistic portions compared to my past).

Recently, my spiritual path has been tiptoeing to my plate. That’s where my vegetarian experiment came from, the thought that I should see how much of a difference removing meat really meant to me. I’ve also found myself working with spirit animals more, with respect from animal to animal (because I’m a human animal, not a god). I’ve found that I feel no urge to drop my omnivore habits in order to work with the animals. For example, I didn’t feel any anger or negativity from Cow when I meditated with her; instead, it felt like she was glad someone was reaching out.

I feel like spiritually and ethically it’s necessary to recognize where my foods come from. Not just meats, but plants. All creatures, all things on earth, have energy. When we consume something, we take that energy into ourselves. I gain more from eating meat when I take a moment to recognize the animal it came from.

If I had the skill and time, I’d hunt for my own meats and stock up. I think hunting is a wonderful way to give animals a fair chance at the predator/prey relationship.

Doing research, I’ve come to discover that I’m only small steps from becoming more ethical than I naturally appear to be. Taking time to research my meat sources, finding ways to get hormone-free, free-range foods… I can make a difference for myself and my spirituality.

Part of my research made me think about my recently-crafted spirit pouch and my tails. They’re made from furs, and I’m not sure how the sources treated and processed the animals. I can’t undo buying those furs, but as a pagan I can take the time now to honor Fox and Rabbit and Cow for the sacred materials I use. It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s more than nothing.

Becoming an ethical omnivore is far easier than veganism or vegetarianism. It requires more research, but less of a lifestyle change. You still eat the foods you used to eat, but you check where they’re from first. It can even lead to more variety, as you research and discover food sources you didn’t realize you had access to (like a nearby butcher who sells hunted venison during hunting seasons).

I’m going to make efforts to change. I already have the ability to limit my meat intake; now I just have to ensure the meat I *do* eat is ethical by my standards. This is just one more experiment I can sink my teeth into.

Posted in [miscellaneous experiments]

Adventures in Vegetarianism

Posted on by Larissa Lee

Vegetarian diets are popular in the pagan community. Reasons vary, from health to personal views on animal spirits to energy intake, and so on. As with any topic, you could ask a hundred pagans just to get a hundred and fifty-seven responses to their views on vegetarianism.

In high school, I was a pescatarian. I ate vegetarian meals, but I also consumed water animals. At the time, my reasons stemmed from both an overload of protein at family meals and a discontent with the way farm animals are raised. Because I’m a wonderfully lazy little girl, I often cooked ramen noodles or rice and added vegetables as a filler. For three years, I managed to gladly avoid beef, pork, and chicken. Then times changed, and I went back to a mixed diet.

That said, I know from experience that [a] I enjoy a meat-free (or mostly so) diet and [b] I believe that I’m a true omnivore and find no shame in being so.

Now comes the fun part.

I’ve decided that my diet bores me. I don’t often cook, instead settling on easy frozen meals for lunches at work. My pallet is listless, nostalgic over the memories of simple vegetable dishes and plain rice. To assuage my hunger for something more, I’m embracing a fully vegetarian diet for two weeks. Starting next week, I’ll be trying out dozens of recipes I’ve collected in an effort to branch out and try new things.

My goal is to find various dishes that I would gladly make again. They all have E-A-S-Y as a major ingredient; who wants to spend an hour fixing tomorrow’s lunch? Many of the recipes are meat-able; with very little modification, I could un-vegetarianize them for myself or others down the road. However, the point is to find recipes that I enjoy as-is.

As I cook and devour these (hopefully) delicious recipes, I’ll be posting them here and sharing my thoughts. This endeavor is also spiritual, though. I find that my tired, bored pallet and tummy lead to a tired and bored ME. Changing up my diet will also change up my energy levels, encouraging me to be more active both physically and magically. I want to think about what I eat, and why. Every ingredient holds potential magical energies, waiting to be unlocked by my awareness. Also, spring’s approaching and the idea of a home garden is appealing.

Walk with me while I try this out. Share experiences, offer recipes. And try something new. You never know what you might find…

Posted in [witchcraft & wonder]

Otherkins and Therians, oh my!

Posted on by Larissa Lee

Otherkin – a person whose spirit or essence belongs to a species other than human, to include mythical beasts, elves, and alien races.

Therian – an Otherkin person whose spirit or essence specifically belongs to a non-human species that exists or has existed on Earth

Reasons and theories on why Otherkins and Therians occur:

– Species dismorphia, where one disassociates with one’s true species (human) and associates with another

– Totemism taken too far, where the person over-connects to their totem animal and begins to have unconscious shifts (mental and spiritual) as they occassionally merge

– a Higher Power choses to mix in spirits from other realms and species in order to add new lessons and guidance from those people

– a spirit that has lived recently as an animal is now a human (reincarnation) and the past life is sticking to its essence, making minor mental and spiritual shifts occur

– two spirits (one human and one other) are sharing a body, causing mental and spiritual shifts between the two

– two spirits melded before entering a person’s body, like yin and yang, so occassionally aspects of one or the other will present themselves in shifts

My theory, broken into (hopefully) easily-digested pieces:

The human species is expanding rapidly each year, far beyond any previous popullation numbers. Where do all these new human souls come from? The Divine is infinite, but even with reincarnation you have the problem of there being more humans than the previous number of souls available. The Divine could be making new souls… but!

Meanwhile, in the animal kingdom… many species are endangered or extinct. These souls would be shelved, if they were only allowed to be that one species, because if there are no new bodies to house them, they can’t be reborn.

Many of those species are common among the therian community.

My personal reincarnation belief is that we aren’t reborn as a bug one life, a human the next; I believe we’re generally moving up in awareness, with humans being the most conscious of creatures on this planet. While I agree that animals are smarter and more connected/aware of the Earth and balance than us in many cases, they aren’t at the same level of mental development (most species don’t make art, invent complex things, etc.).

That said, I think the gods have a smart recycling plan. Those spirits that were animals and can’t be reborn as such again are being born human. They have lessons learned as animals that can be taught to mankind.

Maybe enough therian spirits, self-aware or not, can lead to an environmental change through their intense understanding of the need to protect our home, Earth. Maybe there are thousands, or millions, more therians than you find online… maybe they sit around unaware of their unique nature.

I think the therians who do claim their therian side are just more aware. Many of them practice or have practiced some form of self-enlightening spirituality. I believe there are many unaware therians running around, probably many of the people drawn to environmental movements, earth-based spirituality, and the like. And I believe that some species (say, the bee) may not have been aware enough as the animal to carry over shifts or personality quirks from their life as such.

Imagine, though. A bee or an ant, born human. Most bees are worker bees. Most people are worker people, doing the smaller tasks that keep the bigger things running. Example, a night stocker at Walmart restocks the shelves, a truck driver transports those items to the store from a warehouse, a warehouse worker prepares an order for a store, a manager oversees the requisition orders for various stores, and so on.

I got off topic. Overall, though, my theory is that many of us Earth-loving people are being born with spirits who have never lived as a human before. Some of us are more aware than others, through spiritual sensitivity and species; others are less aware, due to lack of sensitivity or to a species that has little mental awareness as individuals with personalities (i.e. bees, ants).

I also believe that all of the other theories are valid. For Otherkin elves and dragons and such, perhaps those spiritual beings are being born human to bring their knowledge and energies into the Earth living experience. Otherkin are more complicated, as a vampire Otherkin isn’t so much a spirit trapped in a different body as a person with non-human needs and abilities.

NOTE: I stumbled onto therianthropy by accident in 2009. I was researching some strange feelings and energies I’d been experiencing off and on; during my searches I found someone describing a mental shift as a therian, and it matched some of what I’d been through. I resisted accepting that, because it was even beyond the average pagan weirdness. Last year, in studying totem animals with my coven, I found myself redrawn to the therian research I’d done. In meditation and random spiritual daydreaming (my favorite way to get “ah ha!” moments), I discovered I’m a snow leopard therian. I’m now wise enough to accept that, weird or not, as a part of my spiritual self. Accepting it has been a beautiful and interesting lesson so far…

Posted in [miscellaneous experiments]

When Generations Meet

Posted on by Larissa Lee

Today was not a good day. It wasn’t even a mediocre day. Today was one of those days when waking up became mistake number one. Getting up was number two. Between medication problems, work frustrations, and overall unhappiness with my day, I just wasn’t in the head space to be human to anyone. That said, I took myself to Hastings, ordered a coffee and a bagel, and sat down to enjoy a moment of solitude…

…until some strange, 67-year-old woman asked if she could join me.

Dark and wrinkled like a raisin, she smelled like typical grandma-smell does. She looked frumpy and frail as she lowered herself in a chair next to me. Wanting to avoid conversation, I looked around the store as I ate my bagel in silence. Essentially, I pretended she wasn’t there.

Then she started talking.

At first, she asked simple questions. How about this heat? Do you think they have any blueberry bagels left? I made noncommittal noises and tried to politely be left alone, but then she started to tell me about her day. About her visit to the old folks’ home to see some friends. About her recent hospital trip and a new spot on her lungs and heart. About her eleven children, the youngest as old as my mother. About her job as a substitute teacher, and her fears about retirement. As her story unfolded, I found myself turning to face her, my interest sincerely peaked by her ramblings.

I could feel what she felt. Her joy at being a great grandmother, many times over. Her frustration with the youth of today, and their parents. Her fear about not being able to pay her rent, especially if she retired. We shared. I told her about my experiences working at Hastings, about my hopes for my future children, about appreciating the opportunities I had from being an Armybrat while disliking the moves (just like her children). As we sat and talked, our conversation spun over a vast range of topics. Mostly, I let an old woman use my ear to ease a little of the loneliness she feels when she goes home to watch old westerns by herself.

Two hours passed unnoticed.

She’s older than my grandmother, black, Christian in a way that warms the heart, and deeply southern. I’m a young white girl from the West coast who dances under the full moon each month. When she left, I realized that we never exchanged names. We shared laughter and fears, hopes and angers. In a way, we both had an unvoiced need for a kind ear… and we ended up answering each other’s need at that little, rickety cafe table. I find myself both awed and humbled by the connection I found with a woman who I could be no different from unless she were born on Mars. I thank the Gods for the opportunity to Listen, fully and truly.

Posted in [witchcraft & wonder]

the Future

Posted on by Larissa Lee

Today (rather, this whole past week or so) has been a close study of my personal issues with planning for the future. See, you can make all sorts of plans for what you want in your future…

…but the only variable you have control over it yourself. All those other people involved, from your closest friends and family to the strangers you meet along the way…

…they all have the potential to ruin even the best-laid plans. It’s a heavy weight sometimes, making plans. I can think of things I’d like to have, or do, or be…

…but they require someone else’s cooperation. I’m not sure of myself most of the time, no matter what front I display to the world. It’s hard to get the gumption to actually make an offer, or to ask for assistance that I can never repay. And the wait for a decision, a yes or no to my request, is excruciating.

Then there’s the handful of times I find myself standing on someone else’s path, on their way from point A to point B. The way is clear to both of us, but for some reason my opinion matters. I become an accidental fork-in-the-road, unwittingly transforming into a reason to do (or not do) something. It’s terrifying, to find yourself in that kind of position…

…to know that, for one small moment, you have more influence on that person’s life than they do. Or at least an equal amount of influence.

I’ve found myself facing a lot of uncomfortable thoughts these days. Keep in mind that “uncomfortable” doesn’t necessarily equate with “bad”…

…they’re simply things I would rather avoid, or plans I can’t imagine working out smoothly. Human nature, and our interconnected lives, prevent anything from occurring in the “most logical” way. Call it cowardice, but I’d much rather live in the moment…

…than speak of my hopes and dreams for the future. In the moment, I can make decisions as though riding though rapids, steering myself around boulders and over rough waters as they come.

For now, I think that’s what I need. Tomorrow will just have to wait and see.