We need to talk about True Detective.
It’s an HBO show, penned by a novelist who was a finalist for the
Edgar Allen award. (So Wikipedia tells me.) It stars Matthew
McConaughey, Woody Harrelson, and Michelle Monaghan. The third episode
airs tonight; I’ve just finished watching the first two.
The show reminds me strongly of Twin Peaks: the first episode begins
with the unusual murder of a woman. In Twin Peaks it was of course Laura
Palmer, dead and wrapped in plastic. Here in True Detective it is a
prostitute named Dora Kelly Lange, her body blindfolded, bound,
decorated with strange symbols with a crown of antlers placed on her
head.
And then it gets weird.
The show centres on two detectives - Harrelson and McConaughey - both
in 1995 when the murder occurs, and in 2012 when they are individually
questioned about the events due to another murder occurring that is very
much like the one they investigated. Both actors are fucking fabulous,
and the time difference structure actually works really well.
The location - Louisiana - makes a perfect backdrop for the show, and
the music is what you would expect. The visuals are stunning, gritty
but rich, and everything seems subsumed with a desperate, desolate
feeling.
There’s no real spoilers to be had yet, but I’ll put more details about the weird shit and my own suspicions under a cut.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Hell in a Handbasket.
I don't remember exactly when I first heard the term 'Satanic Panic' but I believe that it wasn't until I was in my twenties. The irony of this, of course, is that I easily could have fallen victim to it myself long before then.
I grew up a really dorky kid. This wasn't much of an issue until I got to high school, which of course is when dorky kids find that their friends have all decided they're cooler than you. This actually happened twice, in two different schools, so by the time I hit ninth grade, and my third high school, I was pretty well over trying to fit in. Black clothes, torn fishnets, black lipstick, boots... I'd figured out that if you're going to be outcast you may as well create an obvious target of yourself so nobody has to try too hard and so find anything that might actually bother you. Also, you know. I look good in black.
I was fifteen when I first got interested in the occult as an actual practice. My mom bought me some tarot cards, and succumbed to my pleas to be taken to the only metaphysical bookstore in town. I promptly bought Bucky's Big Blue, and my sister and I got to creating an altar out of cardboard and athames out of letter openers. We bought candles from the dollar store and did spells on the patio until a freaked-out neighbour complained.
See, that's the thing: I spend my adolescence in the Bible Belt. I had been raised in no particular faith, and so suddenly being in a place where the biology teacher had to stress that evolution was just a theory and the second question most people asked after your name was "what church do you go to?" was alien to me. The omnipresence of this startlingly oppressive brand of Christianity served to make any alternative all the more appealing.
My mother asked my sister and I to please do our spells inside. We did. She would never forbid our practice or curb our interest - I like to joke that I converted her - but she understood more than we did that we could get into trouble.
I started buying witchcraft books in 1996. Two years before, the West Memphis Three had been wrongfully convicted of the murder of three boys in Arkansas. The trial was plagued by accusations of Satanic motivations, the so-called ringleader Damien Echols's interest in Wicca and heavy metal were held up as evidence of his moral corruption. Before that, the infamous McMartin Preschool trial ran from 1987 to 1990. In 1992 Frances and Dan Keller, a couple who ran a daycare, were convicted of aggravated sexual assault on a child based on fantastic tales of Satanic Ritual Abuse.
I was just a fifteen year old girl, so I was certainly not in any danger of being accused of molesting kids or killing babies (probably) but the fact remained that my interests made a portion of the population frightened and concerned. I was introduced to the laughable yet disturbing imagination of Jack Chick in high school when people would give me his little comic tracts depicting people using Ouija boards and being sent to hell (alongside Catholics and Jews - I found the former especially confusing) and legions of underground Satanists. A few of the girls in my class would repeatedly invite me to their youth group meetings, clearly hoping to get bonus Jesus points for saving the heathen.
I have been thinking about this since reading an article on the Wild Hunt on the subject; the article considers how this environment shaped the pagan community. For me, personally, I do remember at the beginning of my practice being careful to stress things like the Threefold Law and the nature loving aspect of Wicca. (At this point in time, Wicca 101 was the most accessible entryway to the occult, and when you were female in the Bible Belt? It was a blessing.) Later on, as I entered my twenties, I definitely swung more the other way and criticized people who would only focus on the positive.
At some point I came across the term 'Satanic Panic' and considered it to be history before my time - the preschool trials would have occurred when I was a child, after all. The horror films I watched proved that yeah, people in the 70s had a real hard on for the Devil, and apparently the 80s took that and ran with it while on a coke binge. Only further research exposed me to things like the case of the West Memphis Three, and that's when I said "holy shit." Because that wasn't that long ago. It also made me realise that people who said shit about me, or the one goth dude in my class, or my sister and her friends in the wake of Columbine (which occurred my graduating year) were deadly serious. The neighbour who didn't want us playing witchy on the patio was seriously afraid of Satan showing up. They actually believed we were dangerous. And that's something that scares me now.
Your clothes don't make you a murderer. Your interest in the occult doesn't make you a child molester. Being a witch should not, in this day and age, open you up to anything besides some teasing because your robe looks stupid.
And yet I hear rumblings from the States about people treating Voudoun practitioners like evil monsters, of people equating the worship of Saint Death to cult driven sacrifice. The Catholic Church is back on the demons-exist bandwagon, while the charismatic fire-and-brimstone variety has hot teen girl exorcists. And, just as in those shitty Jack Chick publications of yore, the gateway to anarchy and evil are fantasy books and movies, witchcraft, Ouija boards, yoga, and rock and roll.
What was the Faulkner quote? "The past is never dead. It's not even past."
Fucking creepy.
I grew up a really dorky kid. This wasn't much of an issue until I got to high school, which of course is when dorky kids find that their friends have all decided they're cooler than you. This actually happened twice, in two different schools, so by the time I hit ninth grade, and my third high school, I was pretty well over trying to fit in. Black clothes, torn fishnets, black lipstick, boots... I'd figured out that if you're going to be outcast you may as well create an obvious target of yourself so nobody has to try too hard and so find anything that might actually bother you. Also, you know. I look good in black.
 |
| Me, circa 1996-2000. |
See, that's the thing: I spend my adolescence in the Bible Belt. I had been raised in no particular faith, and so suddenly being in a place where the biology teacher had to stress that evolution was just a theory and the second question most people asked after your name was "what church do you go to?" was alien to me. The omnipresence of this startlingly oppressive brand of Christianity served to make any alternative all the more appealing.
My mother asked my sister and I to please do our spells inside. We did. She would never forbid our practice or curb our interest - I like to joke that I converted her - but she understood more than we did that we could get into trouble.
I started buying witchcraft books in 1996. Two years before, the West Memphis Three had been wrongfully convicted of the murder of three boys in Arkansas. The trial was plagued by accusations of Satanic motivations, the so-called ringleader Damien Echols's interest in Wicca and heavy metal were held up as evidence of his moral corruption. Before that, the infamous McMartin Preschool trial ran from 1987 to 1990. In 1992 Frances and Dan Keller, a couple who ran a daycare, were convicted of aggravated sexual assault on a child based on fantastic tales of Satanic Ritual Abuse.
I was just a fifteen year old girl, so I was certainly not in any danger of being accused of molesting kids or killing babies (probably) but the fact remained that my interests made a portion of the population frightened and concerned. I was introduced to the laughable yet disturbing imagination of Jack Chick in high school when people would give me his little comic tracts depicting people using Ouija boards and being sent to hell (alongside Catholics and Jews - I found the former especially confusing) and legions of underground Satanists. A few of the girls in my class would repeatedly invite me to their youth group meetings, clearly hoping to get bonus Jesus points for saving the heathen.
I have been thinking about this since reading an article on the Wild Hunt on the subject; the article considers how this environment shaped the pagan community. For me, personally, I do remember at the beginning of my practice being careful to stress things like the Threefold Law and the nature loving aspect of Wicca. (At this point in time, Wicca 101 was the most accessible entryway to the occult, and when you were female in the Bible Belt? It was a blessing.) Later on, as I entered my twenties, I definitely swung more the other way and criticized people who would only focus on the positive.
At some point I came across the term 'Satanic Panic' and considered it to be history before my time - the preschool trials would have occurred when I was a child, after all. The horror films I watched proved that yeah, people in the 70s had a real hard on for the Devil, and apparently the 80s took that and ran with it while on a coke binge. Only further research exposed me to things like the case of the West Memphis Three, and that's when I said "holy shit." Because that wasn't that long ago. It also made me realise that people who said shit about me, or the one goth dude in my class, or my sister and her friends in the wake of Columbine (which occurred my graduating year) were deadly serious. The neighbour who didn't want us playing witchy on the patio was seriously afraid of Satan showing up. They actually believed we were dangerous. And that's something that scares me now.
 |
| TERRIFYING! |
Your clothes don't make you a murderer. Your interest in the occult doesn't make you a child molester. Being a witch should not, in this day and age, open you up to anything besides some teasing because your robe looks stupid.
And yet I hear rumblings from the States about people treating Voudoun practitioners like evil monsters, of people equating the worship of Saint Death to cult driven sacrifice. The Catholic Church is back on the demons-exist bandwagon, while the charismatic fire-and-brimstone variety has hot teen girl exorcists. And, just as in those shitty Jack Chick publications of yore, the gateway to anarchy and evil are fantasy books and movies, witchcraft, Ouija boards, yoga, and rock and roll.
What was the Faulkner quote? "The past is never dead. It's not even past."
Fucking creepy.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Soooooo ironic.
I will get around to Part Two of the last New Year New You, but life has been a bit derailed this week. I'm not gonna go into why, but my attention is pretty well taken up right now.
Here. HIPSTER GLASSES.
 |
| Shawna and Mom. Not prescription. |
 |
| Prescription. |
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
NYNY: Goals Part One
What do you want to accomplish in 2014 using both magical and mundane means?
 |
| via Tumblr |
I'm going to go with a few other simple things instead. Namely:
1) To save a set amount of money a month.
2) To become a better performer.
3) To continue to improve my physical health.
4) To complete a writing project.
How are you going to accomplish these large goals in your daily life?
I'm lucky in that my goals are not particularly giant. Financially, once I'm back at work it will be a matter of just putting the money into savings and then not touching it.
In terms of performing, my plan is to look for venues besides the Taboo Revue to pitch to. Tarantino Burlesque is scheduled to have a second run in April, and I'm booked to do Cabaret du Passe in February. As much as I love the Taboo, I've been doing it a few years now and so I am generally comfortable with it. Pushing myself outside that comfort zone encourages me to be harder on myself. I'm also going to take some classes once I'm back at work - this dovetails with the physical fitness goal.
I go back to work next week. This will be the real test of a fitness routine, as there are no more leisurely mornings where you wind up running at noon. My first running partner has been MIA for ages, and my sister will be swamped with burlesque when she's not working. Both of my running buddies are NOT morning people, either, which means running together would have to happen after work. If I want to maintain a regular routine, which I do, I simply cannot create one based on their schedules. So. Currently, the plan is this: on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I will wake up early and go running alone. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays I will wake up early and stay in to do core, weights, and yoga (time permitting). Ten minute sitting meditation can occur after this. The weekends are then left open to run with either my sister of my friend if they like, and if not I'll go on my own on the day of my choosing.
As for writing... After some stop-and-starts, I have picked the story I intend to work on. The goal is to simply set aside one hour a day to work on it. That's it. One hour should be doable - it is literally just a few more minutes longer than an episode of Hoarders for god's sake.
What magical acts (rituals, spellwork, whatever it is you do) can you do to help you accomplish this goal?
Finances don't need a money-come-to-me kick; I need to get my ass some Money-Stay-With-Me oil. The emphasis will be on keeping what I earn. Anything extra that comes my way can then be invested wisely. And hopefully there will be little bits of extra since...
...for dance, I have a working planned already with the long-term design to bring more opportunity. Which reminds me that I need to talk to my sister about promotional stuff.
Health wise, I am considering trying out a form of pop culture aspecting - I seem to remember playing with the idea when I was much younger and out in the clubs (well. the club, singular) and it working pretty well as a motivator. It'll just be a different focus, using different ideals. Considering my undying love of superheroes, I'll probably use a kickass female figure. She-Hulk, maybe. Being built like She-Hulk would be sort of awesome.
I'm also planning to talk to some friends - SweetPea and Lola, maybe Vexy - about what their health routines are like because they are in fucking amazing shape. I know Lola and Vexy are huge hippies, so they can probably offer me some great advice regarding yoga, cleansing, and all of that. SweetPea can tell me how to bust my own ass. While this doesn't count as ritual, these conversations will help me better formulate a mind-body-spirit plan of attack.
Writing. The act itself is already so... arty-farty mystical that I have never found magic to be particularly helpful in the process. So on that one I have no real ideas aside from setting up a pinboard or something of shit that will serve as visual cues and inspiration.
Part two of this prompt coming later.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Make my own home be my gallows.
The Hanged Man is one of my favourite cards.
Trump twelve can best be summed up by the keyword 'sacrifice' which often puts people off. You hear the word and get stuck on the action, forgetting that sacrifice is done with a goal in mind. Fear consumes the individual and they fail to see the chance for liberation.
Rachel Pollack, in Tarot Wisdom, points out that in the Rider deck if card 12 is turned upside down, it mirrors card 21. The Hanged Man and the World dancer possess the same posture; their legs form the number four, their arms create triangles. Sacred numbers are hidden in the flesh.
 |
| Vertigo Tarot by Dave McKean |
A myth I personally find more personally relevant is that of Odin on the World Tree. If you're unfamiliar with the story, Odin hangs for nine days and nights on Yggdrasil, pierced by his own spear, in order to make himself ready to receive the runes and therefore the knowledge of all the nine worlds and their magic. Odin, of course, is also the same guy who sacrificed an eye at the well of Mimir - this is a figure who understands that to get, you gotta give, and sometimes it sucks hard.
While the Hanged Man has mundane applications - having no social life in order to pay off your debt, for example - as with most of the Major Arcana I find the esoteric implications far more fascinating, and it is for this reason that card twelve is my second favourite in the deck. It is one of the more intellectual cards in that it deals with wisdom, but at the same time maintains a strong connection to the occult. It is worth noting that the Golden Dawn sometimes used the alternate title The Drowned Man - this appears to be due to the Hebrew letter assigned the card being 'Mem' which translates to 'water.' Here again, we can skip across our myths and look to Odin, suspended above Mimir's well. The presence of water in a card speaks of the hidden sort of knowledge, of deep and mysterious fathoms.
The sea, altered states, sacrifice, and enlightenment. There is much to learn from the Hanged Man, hanging from his gibbet with a peaceful, knowing smile.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Glory, glory.
Tarantino Burlesque sold the fuck out.
Insaaaanely awesome show. I'm the first to admit I fucked right the fuck up in the opening number, but it was extremely goofy so I'm not actually sure it mattered all that much. The stage was way, way smaller than we'd anticipated with the band up there with us, which was problematic for the group numbers, but all things considered I think we did the best we could.
The solos went super well. This was my first time working with Ariel Helvetica and holy shit you guys she is so good. She's going to be taking Cherry on Top's slot for classes at the Burlesque Centre (Cherry's very pregnant) so once I'm back at work I'm planning to attend. Girl is crazy talented.
Yours truly did better than she expected. I was shitting myself a little beforehand, not gonna lie - again, a sold out show on the Granville strip. No pressure or anything.
The audience was an odd mix of totally into it and totally ignoring you. Our darling host Trixie Hobbitses of Geekenders fame was unfortunate enough to overhear some ladies talking smack about us performers outside the dressing room, which kinda bummed me out. But then I had a few different women come up to me over the rest of the evening to tell me how much they enjoyed my act. So, you know. Take criticisms when you can... but only if they're actual critiques and not just drunken declarations of bitchery. (Also if you aren't entertained by Sweetpea McGee in a gimp costume, then your taste is questionable at best.)
Overall an amazing night, and I'm still SO thrilled to have been a part of it. Blue Morris and the band are all fucking stellar to work with.
Okay, no more gushing.
In unrelated news, I finally mounted my Hand of Glory. Found a cheap shadowbox at Michael's and got some wood stain, which I also used to darken up parts of the skin because paint was just not looking right. I'm super ghetto so I just hot-glued everything in place and hung the damn thing on the wall.
Insaaaanely awesome show. I'm the first to admit I fucked right the fuck up in the opening number, but it was extremely goofy so I'm not actually sure it mattered all that much. The stage was way, way smaller than we'd anticipated with the band up there with us, which was problematic for the group numbers, but all things considered I think we did the best we could.
The solos went super well. This was my first time working with Ariel Helvetica and holy shit you guys she is so good. She's going to be taking Cherry on Top's slot for classes at the Burlesque Centre (Cherry's very pregnant) so once I'm back at work I'm planning to attend. Girl is crazy talented.
Yours truly did better than she expected. I was shitting myself a little beforehand, not gonna lie - again, a sold out show on the Granville strip. No pressure or anything.
The audience was an odd mix of totally into it and totally ignoring you. Our darling host Trixie Hobbitses of Geekenders fame was unfortunate enough to overhear some ladies talking smack about us performers outside the dressing room, which kinda bummed me out. But then I had a few different women come up to me over the rest of the evening to tell me how much they enjoyed my act. So, you know. Take criticisms when you can... but only if they're actual critiques and not just drunken declarations of bitchery. (Also if you aren't entertained by Sweetpea McGee in a gimp costume, then your taste is questionable at best.)
Overall an amazing night, and I'm still SO thrilled to have been a part of it. Blue Morris and the band are all fucking stellar to work with.
Okay, no more gushing.
In unrelated news, I finally mounted my Hand of Glory. Found a cheap shadowbox at Michael's and got some wood stain, which I also used to darken up parts of the skin because paint was just not looking right. I'm super ghetto so I just hot-glued everything in place and hung the damn thing on the wall.
 |
| Close-up of the Hand. |
 |
| Eh, crooked photo. The label reads 'Hand of Glory. Supposed hand of a criminal hanged. Found 1932, Whitby, England." The Whitby Museum actually has what is believed to be a REAL Hand of Glory. |
 |
| Its new home. |
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
House of the Rising Sun
I'm pretty sure my eyebrows are going grey. Seriously, what the fuck? Ugh. Have some fake-Instagram-filter pictures. (You know what, though? Fuck your ugly high-res crap. My favourite camera growing up was a Polaroid, and I intend to recapture the magic digitally whenever I can.)
After Diana informed me that she thought my mantle looked a little bare ("don't you usually have more of your stuff up there?") I did some rearranging. Behold the hand of glory, shoved in a jar on a whim. Also behold my totally awesome Urban Outfitters candles. SEE THEY ARE CUTE. Also pictured: The Victorian Regina Tarot. I love this deck if only because Oscar Wilde is the Prince of Wands. (Of course he is.) 
This isn't mine. It has to be returned to Clown Boss. Until she remembers this, it stays on the wall.
In other news, elderflower martinis rule.
Bring out the gimp.
For anybody in the Vancouver area, I'll be performing at Blue Morris' Tarantino Burlesque this Friday. I am very excited about the show, and the chance to up my game as a dancer. The other girls are fucking amazing, and I'm honoured to be able to share a stage with them.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Progress Report
Couple days into the new year, so it's time to make sure I'm not being a lazy slag.
Physical activity remains steady - still running, and there's been more dance practice in preparation for Tarantino Burlesque on Friday. Started incorporating weights and core work, but that needs to be on a regular schedule instead of just whenever I think to. Yoga needs to be stepped up a bit.
Food choices need to be re-examined. I've gone through my vegan cookbook to pick out recipes I haven't tried that I would like to. I am doing a 24-hour fast (started after dinner) to slap my body in the face with the whole no sugar thing. Ugh. And no booze this week either. ...coffee remains.
Meditation schedule buggered. Have to get back into a same-day-every-day-asshole regime.
Magically not much on the go, just the usual shit. Tristan Risk and Lola Frost have both requested some tarot time, so that should be happening fairly soon. Rereading some material, and working out some ideas for experiments.
So that's the state of things as of today.
[Edit]
Yeah, blew the fast because jogging makes you hungry, go figure. But am still doing the no sugar thing at least for 24 hours.
 |
| Fuck. |
Food choices need to be re-examined. I've gone through my vegan cookbook to pick out recipes I haven't tried that I would like to. I am doing a 24-hour fast (started after dinner) to slap my body in the face with the whole no sugar thing. Ugh. And no booze this week either. ...coffee remains.
Meditation schedule buggered. Have to get back into a same-day-every-day-asshole regime.
Magically not much on the go, just the usual shit. Tristan Risk and Lola Frost have both requested some tarot time, so that should be happening fairly soon. Rereading some material, and working out some ideas for experiments.
So that's the state of things as of today.
[Edit]
Yeah, blew the fast because jogging makes you hungry, go figure. But am still doing the no sugar thing at least for 24 hours.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Making Way.
Loathe as I am to commit to things, I am planning on trying to get through Deb's New Year, New You challenge. The first prompt is Making Way.
This is not a hard thing to do - I have actually been working on a real deep clean for the past couple weeks. Before Christmas I donated a bunch of old clothes, and in the next few days I'll be dropping off another bag and also a bag of old books. Books are extremely hard for me to part with, even if I haven't read them for years. A bunch of them are actually old manga I was keeping for sentimental reasons, but considering the neighbourhood I live in they might make some little fangirl awful happy. That will be better than sitting under my bed.
Finally took the pile of cardboard out to the recycling bin the other day, and wiped down the walls and windows. (The windows were fucking gross.) Dusted the blinds, and then purged the cupboards of anything expired. I still want to wipe down all the kitchen cupboards properly, but that can wait until tomorrow.
I've discussed before my feelings on a clean house; a friend of mine has accused me of being OCD about it, but I honestly don't understand how people get anything done when everything is dirty. Not just cluttered, dirty. Although clutter can be distracting too, especially in a glorified bachelor apartment like mine. Like, you leave out a couple books and don't put the laundry away and you look like you're almost a hoarder.
My cleaning, as usual, incorporates the usual cleansing shit like sage and Florida water and sweeping toward the exit. I did the LBRP and Ritual of the Rose Cross the other night (and did them at my sister's place too, at her request).
Is your time being well spent?
Ugh. I am the queen of slackerdom. But I've installed Leechblock on my computer, so there's at least one hour a day I can't waste online. This will force me to either write or draw. In theory. My exercise routine is, thankfully, easier to stick to, as is meditation since I tend to do it directly after the exercise. The real challenge will be when I go back to work in January. I am hoping to instill habits now, so they can simply be shifted to a different time slot.
An hour a day to devote to projects is not so much. It's very doable. Now we just need to make sure I actually DO it.
Just because someone hands you a big rock doesn't mean you have to carry it.
In terms of letting go of shit, the past few months have been very good for that. I believe I am finally truly getting over things that hurt me a lot more than I wanted to admit. Much of the past year was spent in a very solitary manner, and I feel that perhaps I may feel up to being more social again by the spring.
I have also realised that relationships change, and sometimes as much as it breaks your heart you cannot run after others. You can support them, but not to the exclusion of your own mental health. This is difficult for me, but I am learning when to simply back the fuck off.
It's a new year, with a new moon tonight. It's a good time to commit to becoming the woman (and witch) I want to be: wiser, stronger, healthier, and kinder.
Let’s start with the easy part. Time to clean your house. - See more at: http://www.charmedfinishingschool.com/new-year-new-you-weekly-writing-prompt-making-way/#sthash.G5jtmoSu.dpuf
Let's start with the easy part. Time to clean your house.This is not a hard thing to do - I have actually been working on a real deep clean for the past couple weeks. Before Christmas I donated a bunch of old clothes, and in the next few days I'll be dropping off another bag and also a bag of old books. Books are extremely hard for me to part with, even if I haven't read them for years. A bunch of them are actually old manga I was keeping for sentimental reasons, but considering the neighbourhood I live in they might make some little fangirl awful happy. That will be better than sitting under my bed.
Finally took the pile of cardboard out to the recycling bin the other day, and wiped down the walls and windows. (The windows were fucking gross.) Dusted the blinds, and then purged the cupboards of anything expired. I still want to wipe down all the kitchen cupboards properly, but that can wait until tomorrow.
I've discussed before my feelings on a clean house; a friend of mine has accused me of being OCD about it, but I honestly don't understand how people get anything done when everything is dirty. Not just cluttered, dirty. Although clutter can be distracting too, especially in a glorified bachelor apartment like mine. Like, you leave out a couple books and don't put the laundry away and you look like you're almost a hoarder.
My cleaning, as usual, incorporates the usual cleansing shit like sage and Florida water and sweeping toward the exit. I did the LBRP and Ritual of the Rose Cross the other night (and did them at my sister's place too, at her request).
Is your time being well spent?
Ugh. I am the queen of slackerdom. But I've installed Leechblock on my computer, so there's at least one hour a day I can't waste online. This will force me to either write or draw. In theory. My exercise routine is, thankfully, easier to stick to, as is meditation since I tend to do it directly after the exercise. The real challenge will be when I go back to work in January. I am hoping to instill habits now, so they can simply be shifted to a different time slot.
An hour a day to devote to projects is not so much. It's very doable. Now we just need to make sure I actually DO it.
Just because someone hands you a big rock doesn't mean you have to carry it.
In terms of letting go of shit, the past few months have been very good for that. I believe I am finally truly getting over things that hurt me a lot more than I wanted to admit. Much of the past year was spent in a very solitary manner, and I feel that perhaps I may feel up to being more social again by the spring.
I have also realised that relationships change, and sometimes as much as it breaks your heart you cannot run after others. You can support them, but not to the exclusion of your own mental health. This is difficult for me, but I am learning when to simply back the fuck off.
It's a new year, with a new moon tonight. It's a good time to commit to becoming the woman (and witch) I want to be: wiser, stronger, healthier, and kinder.
Just
because someone hands you a big rock doesn’t mean you have to carry it.
- See more at:
http://www.charmedfinishingschool.com/new-year-new-you-weekly-writing-prompt-making-way/#sthash.2cJjaQRO.dpuf
Let’s
start with the easy part. Time to clean your house. - See more at:
http://www.charmedfinishingschool.com/new-year-new-you-weekly-writing-prompt-making-way/#sthash.G5jtmoSu.dpu
Let’s
start with the easy part. Time to clean your house. - See more at:
http://www.charmedfinishingschool.com/new-year-new-you-weekly-writing-prompt-making-way/#sthash.G5jtmoSu.dpuf
Let’s
start with the easy part. Time to clean your house. - See more at:
http://www.charmedfinishingschool.com/new-year-new-you-weekly-writing-prompt-making-way/#sthash.G5jtmoSu.dpuf
Let’s
start with the easy part. Time to clean your house. - See more at:
http://www.charmedfinishingschool.com/new-year-new-you-weekly-writing-prompt-making-way/#sthash.G5jtmoSu.dpuf
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