Posts tagged ‘writing’

Oh, I love books. I love writing and grammar and language; prose and poetry and precision, for all that I also adore rambling metaphorical dissertations in ambiguity!

Bwahahahaaaa…

I won it in the blogoversary giveaway at Leftover Reveries. How cool is Lissa, giving presents on her own birthday! Do you think she’s a Hobbit? Isn’t that a hobbitish tradition? I love it! Give her a hello from a grateful Thornie, huh?

Peace, out!

I know, I know… you’re prolly all sick of me talking about my new blog, The Eclectic Witch, but I really think I’m doing some good work over there, and I could really use a hand. A hand from my blogging buddies and friends in the form of a lil linkylove. I’m gonna blogroll all of my friends blogroll, over there, and I really hope at least a few of you will blogroll EW back.
If you don’t want to, that’s cool, too. I will understand if you don’t want to roll a witchy or a monetized blog. I love you all no matter what!
*5/01/09 Update:
I’m no longer blogging at today [dot] com. I discovered that I hadn’t read the terms well enough (or they exercised their option to change the terms, I’m not sure), and that by writing there I was giving them my content and the copyright. For next to nothing. Sooo not cool!

Last night began the sacred observance of my New Year. The usual celebration within the solemnity of the occasion was missing, but the altar was laid in love and honor. Bishop’s remembrances are centered on the Samhain altar surrounded by the beauty and warmth of our beloved dead; mementos, photos and the ashes of our family, friends and ancestors gone before us to attend him. The altar is circled still by 13 glass pillar candles in white, green, red and blue, burning brightly. The candles, representing warmth and light, passion and spirit, will burn continuously for 7 days, or until they burn out, whichever is longest. There is salt, representative of nourishment and earth, and clear water for thirsty spirits and representative of our love and deeply flowing emotions that shall be replenished daily while the candles burn. Incense smolders sweetly calling the spirits of air and intellect, thought and action.

The Gods intervened in my usual choice of candles. The Virgin of Guadalupe’s blessings were required, as were St. Jude’s. I thought it odd, but have learned through the years that the Gods will have their way with me, whether I resist or acquiesce, so Saint Candles were the order of the evening. Today I took a moment to research the saints who had made their presence manifest and discovered that Guadalupe’s Day is December 12, my daughter’s birthday, and that Jude is the patron saint of desperate cases and lost causes, and the special protector of children with catastrophic illness. Those two are welcome on my altar, indeed.

At 12:01, my ritual begun and in place for the night, I sat at my laptop to embark upon my journey of 50,000 words. I began to write and before I’d written a hundred words, at 12:04, the power went out leaving only the bright glow of the altar candles. Among my beloved dead there are at least a few who fashion themselves great jokesters, my late husband among them. I could almost hear Bishop laughing as his Grampa Jerry bounced him whispering, “Look at Grama, scribbling in the dark. Isn’t she funny?” Thank the Gods that their humor was exhausted by 2:30. When the power finally came back on, this ol’ Grama’s eyes were blurry but wide open thanks to the full pot of coffee I’d been slurping all night.

By 7 am I had a mere 1500 words. Finally, at 8, I exceeded my quota of 1667 words for the day and finished up at a whopping 1750. Exhausted beyond belief but as Jittery as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, I decided on a hot bath. Good one, Thornie. I awakened shivering in cold water and completely refreshed after my hour and a half nap.

Woot! Back to work! Muahahahaha. I finished up tonight at 2,733 words, over a thousand above the first day’s necessary average. Some of it is pretty damned dark, which isn’t really surprising considering the place my heart is in and of course, the time of year. I can only hope that this Darkness of and in which I write will indeed be “Pierced by Sudden Shards of Overwhelming Brightness”

A tiny peek for my blog family and faithful readers:

I was born, I lived, I died. That’s the whole story, really. Just like so many others. Just like everyone, anywhere, ever. Quite to the point, don’t you think? I mean, what else is there, really?

What else there is, is everything. Those flashes of light and aeons of darkness that fill the spaces between birth and death, between death and whatever is to be next.

They’re pressing on me now; I can feel their need. The weight of them leaning, pushing. Urging me to tell- to tell their truths, their stories… their lives. To be their rememberer.

I have something to tell, but I think it’s mine.

I’ve been here for awhile., I think. (“I think, therefor I am”? Am I?) This place seems to exist outside of time somehow, so I’m not really sure that “awhile” has any meaning. It makes it difficult. I’m not sure exactly what or where or even when here is.

It’s relatively peaceful, (but relative to what?) although that’s just a sense I have. It might just be me that’s peaceful; my peace, my stillness. It’s not like there’s a lovely view or soothing music playing or anything.

It’s almost a void. No- that’s not right. This place is crowded. It’s like some sort of clearing house for souls/spirits… whatever we are.

A luminous darkness in which I’m only one of many deeper shadows at rest or motion. A space of sorts; a space between.

Is that what I’m doing here? Hiding? Waiting? Will you find me here?

Circles and spirals of thought swirl me through labyrinthine pathways of memory. While I wander there, the energies around me shift and flow. Movement. Coming and going? Some seem to burst into existence and then disappear in the space between thoughts. Where do they go? Are they so sure, these spirits? So knowing? Have they shaped their destinations so thoroughly, so decisively that they move through here to whatever is next for them without pause; without rest?

Am I waiting? Or deciding. There was so much pain and sorrow. Confusion, loss. The brief sparks of joy burned out so quickly. Bright flashes between seemingly endless drudgery and bottomless sorrow.

But oh those moments of light.