THINKING ABOUT FAITH IS A LOT HARDER THAN YOU THINK

I’m having one of those days today.  I should be doing x, y and z, but I'm not in the mood, so I'm trying to do a, b and c instead.  And that isn't working out to brilliantly either.

I should be making fudge for partner’s birthday on Sunday; I say I should be making it, but really I should be helping my son make it, but neither of us is in the mood.

I should be sewing something for my daughter's birthday on Tuesday, but that isn't working out too well either as I need to go and get a couple of bits and I can't be bothered to get dressed.  Obviously in a lazy mood today although did run down to the post box earlier in my pjs as I had a form that desperately needed posting (it should have got there today rather than being posted today).  Luckily post box is less than 100 yards from the house.

So, after deciding that the above two things won't get done today, I turned to the other stuff.  The form, as I've said, got done and posted.  The urgent bill got paid, although I'm surprised as my bank account is rather heavily overdrawn at the moment; thank goodness for overdraft facilities. The washing got done, although now I have to bung it in the tumble dryer as it's a bit late to get it outside and even if it wasn't, it's been raining.  The last thing I should be doing and I am trying to do is my homework.

"What homework?" I hear you say.

Well, I have had a book called A Witch Alone for years.  I've dipped in and out of it, checking and researching information, but I've never read it from cover to cover and never followed it as it should be followed. It's basically a practical guide to being a Hedgewitch and has lunar monthly chapters with reading, exercises and research to do.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Witch-Alone-Thirteen-Master-Natural/dp/0007133235/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1424447199&sr=1-1&keywords=a+witch+alone

http://hedgewitchforest.com/

I've been wanting to do it since I bought it and have finally decided that this year was the year to start.  January's went well and I've got rather a lot of info printed up and I enjoyed it, but this month, I'm struggling. 

This month is all about The Goddess and her consort The God.  I'm supposed to consider what it means to have a Goddess and a God with many forms, also to read and think about religious experience and how it has affected me in the past. Plus I'm supposed to divide a page and list attributes, symbols or titles for each; matching as I go if I can.  There are a couple of other things that are mainly reading and research and that isn't too bad, neither is the list of attributes, but the bit about religious experience and how it has affected me is, how shall we say, really hard.

I was brought up Christian, by Sunday school teacher parents and, although they never made me go to church as I grew older, I certainly had to go as a child.  Religion then and does still have issues for me. 

I always felt that there was something missing, something unsaid, something hidden and as I've got older I'm even more suspect of religions. The more research I do, the more I found out about missing books, texts, different translations, etc, the more suspicious I get.  I’m not a lover of rules and rituals as they seem so 'man'made rather than 'god'made and to discover that a lot of woman have been removed from religious text or condemned as evil reinforces the ‘man’made element to me.

Even in the pagan world I have issues with wording and ritual.  For starters I don’t like the word ‘invoke’.  I know that it means ‘to ask’ ‘to appeal’ but it can also mean ‘to call forth or upon (a spirit) by incantation’ or ‘to cause, call forth, or bring about’ which seems to me to be a demand.  Now I won’t demand anything to come to me (apart from my dog of course); I don’t feel that I need to invoke anything, I feel that spirits, corners, whatever you want to call it/them are all around me anyway; including God if I was to think in my Christian upbringing.  If this is the case, they will help me or not as they will.  I can pay homage to them, ask their help, but I certainly cannot and will not demand or call in.

Does this mean that any work I do with the Goddess won’t be valued?  I don’t think so, but maybe others would.  I suppose the very fact that I’m thinking about it on a deeper, emotional level is exactly what the book is asking me to do, but even as I’m writing this and I’ve been attempting to write it all evening, I’m coming up with more conflicting views on the whole thing.

Must admit, learning is never an easy thing and when it comes to choosing and following a path of faith it’s even harder.

Perhaps I should just step back for a bit, have a really good think and come back to it a bit later on when I’m not stressing about overdrafts, birthday presents and such like.

I need to meditate!

AAAAH THAT'S BETTER

Hi all

Have chilled a bit this week, so hopefully no ranting!!!

Went away this past weekend to Great Yarmouth with partner and Callum as it was Callum's birthday and we took his friend (also a Callum) with us. Was great fun for the boys as they spent most of the time between the beach and the arcades. However, not so much fun for me as my beloved partner who is "not interested in football and I only want to watch the England match" spent most of the day in the caravan watching every bloody match that was showing!!! Grrrr!

Ooops, a rant, sorry!

What else has been on my mind? Well, I've had some strange conversations with people over the past couple of weeks, all unconnected, about paranormal activity! Which kind of brings me back to my first blog about my dad and the Drop Dead Fred video. Those of you of a nervous disposition should probably stop reading now - hehe. So here goes:

When I was young I lived in a two bedroomed Council house in Twydall. I had the smaller front bedroom to start with, but when I got older (probably about 8ish) I moved into the back bedroom which was a lot bigger. The door of the room had a very stiff handle which you had to push down and then push a bit more. A bit like the zoom on a digital camera; you zoom in as far as you can, wait a microsecond and then zoom in a bit more (well that's how mine works anyway). Needless to say the bedroom door had a knack to it and it was one of the reasons I was moved in there; I could do it, but my dad, who was in his 50s by then, was having trouble with it as did my mum. I loved that room! It was big enough for me to separate into two areas; bed area and seating area with my record player and my books!

Anyway I'm digressing, but it is pretty important to lay down the grounding to the story. My parents were both ex Sunday School teachers and mum was very religious. I was sent to Sunday School, but never felt 'right' going and I still feel uncomfortable in a church; but that's another blog. Because of mum's religious beliefs she did not under any circumstances believe in ghosts or anything supernatural. She believed you died and went to heaven or hell and that was it! So when I, at the tender age of 8ish, would come downstairs and announce that my bed rocked every night and that my door was always open in the morning she wouldn't have any of it. Her explanation was that I must have dreamt the bed rocking and the door being open must have been me going to the toilet in the night and not remembering. Hmmm! Every night mum?? Seems a bit excessive. And there was more. We started having sharp utensils such as carving knives, bread knives and scissors going missing and they would turn up buried in the garden a few weeks later. Mum's answer: the dog!! Now I know that dogs are intelligent and Rex our mongrel was pretty cool, but to only steal knives and scissors!? And never to cut his mouth!? That seemed a little far fetched to me! I was convinced we had a ghost! Not an unfriendly one, but a ghost nonetheless!!

This phenomenon went on until I left home at 18, the only changes were that knives stopped going missing, but every time I got upset light bulbs would blow all at once and sometimes electrical items would fuse! Now that makes it sound like I'd get in a temper or a wailing moment and the electrics would go, but it wasn't like that. I didn't cry much as a kid as mum was never sympathetic, so I learned to keep upset inside, but whenever it got bad within a few days something would go; either all the bulbs or the hoover would fuse or the telly. It got pretty weird actually, but I was ok with it.

As I've said I left home at 18 and moved in with my then boyfriend and things were good. No bed rocking, no missing implements, no blown bulbs! But, a couple of days after I'd left my mum rang me rather shakily and said "your bed rocks!" Der!!! Yeah!! I've been telling you that for nigh on 10years!! "I'm not sleeping in there, I'm going back on the sofa!"

Two weeks later I got another phone call from mum saying that she'd slept on the sofa for a couple of days and then went back to the bed. She said that the rocking had continued, but that it wasn't unpleasant, but that it had now stopped! She thought she'd let me know! The very next day every light bulb in my house blew and the hoover stopped working! On opening up the plug, all the wires had been pulled out! The kettle then went and exactly the same thing had happened in that plug too! Now some of you would probably have freaked out by this point, but I'd been living with it for over half my life by this point and I actually rather liked my little ghost! I'd even given him a name - Harry! And I often spoke to him as I did on this occasion. "Stop mucking about Harry, so you've found me, now pack it in!" is normally the kind of thing I say! And every time I've moved the same thing has happened. All quiet for a couple of weeks and then it starts again!

I suppose the most freakiest moments were after I had my daughter, Terri. We had a border collie then called Max who was very protective of her. When she was born I'd told Harry that he didn't need to look after me anymore and that he should keep and eye on Terri instead. That evening when we took her up to bed, Max refused to leave her bedroom door and spent the next hour staring at some random spot on the wall next to her room. The next day the hoover blew as did the microwave and the kettle. It appeared that Max didn't like Harry watching Terri and Harry was sulking! Another time I lost my rag with him as I couldn't find any scissors again (I think he takes sharp things to prevent children hurting themselves), so I yelled at him to pack it in and go away! The lightbulbs went on that occasion and then it was quiet! A week or so later I was out in the garden with Terri (a toddler by then) and my neighbour came out and asked if I knew anything about imaginary friends. I asked her why and she said that her youngest boy had suddenly started to talk to someone and it was freaking her out! Apparently he was having proper conversations with pauses in the flow of speech as if listening to the reply. I asked if she knew who/what it was and she replied that it was a man called, wait for it, Harry!!!! "Ah" I said, "he's mine!" I then explained everything to the poor woman and told her to tell him to pack it in and come home. I said she would probably feel pretty daft, but it would work. She did and it did. Her son stopped having conversations and my hoover blew again!!! Welcome home Harry!

Harry is still with me although not so active as he once was! I still get phases of things not working properly and they are normally related to times when I'm either extremely stressed or very upset, but it's fine and he's never been violent. I've been told by several 'medium' type people that he's my Grandad, but I'm not entirely sure as I never met my Grandad and I've never seen Harry, although one of my ex boyfriends apparently did! An old man with lots of white hair was his description and that is pretty much what my Grandad looks like in an old photo I have! I think he's quieter now as there are more of them than before. I'm pretty sure my dad is with me as is a old woman and a young boy, but again I've never seen them fully, only in those far reaches of the eye, but things do happen around me and I do get a lot of 'feelings', so I'm not dismissing it at all.

So Drop Dead Fred!!! My dad was a canny one! He believed me even if mum didn't and I think his choice of video was his way of saying it. As I've already said I think he knew what was coming! Bless him!

INTRODUCTION AND BIRTHDAYS

Okay I've decided to write this blog as it isn't about anything but me! It's my thoughts; whether weird, wonderful or just plain wacko. It will partly be about my life, but it will be mostly about my emotions, my dreams and any other non reality stuff that goes on in that grey blancmange that is my brain. I'm not sure if I want to publise the fact that I'm writing it, but if I do and you read it or if I don't and you come across it by accident and read it, so be it. If it means you hate me because of it, that can't be helped. If you no longer wish to be friends with me because you now think I'm completely barmy, I can't help that either. To all my friends who may find this and read it, I love you all!!! I mean no harm, no upset, no malice. Sometimes I might just have to rant and winkle out the thoughts in my head. So here goes:

I'm going to be 47 tomorrow! 47!! 3 more years and I'll be 50!!! Eeek!!!!! Needless to say I'm not a great celebrator of birthdays anymore. To be honest one birthday rolls into another one and although I'll be a year older and a year nearer to my grave, I don't/won't feel any different tomorrow to how I feel today or to how I felt last year or the year before that or the year before that to be honest!

Actually my birthdays haven't really meant much at all since my dad died! He died 4 days before my 30th birthday! It was sudden, no prolonged illness which is good, but it was a shock and not a pleasant one! He was 70! He was my dad and I loved him. He was a weird little muppet, but that made him even more special. You see my dad had been a prisoner of the Germans in WWII and that kind of made him a man of very few words and someone who never really thought anything was a problem. I mean to say, if you had been through that and survived, petty things like bills, weather, neighbours, kids, etc wouldn't exactly be that much of a big deal would they? Life would be great whatever happened as you'd be thinking that you were bloody lucky to even be alive! After being starving to the point where a piece of mouldy bread found in a field was a feast (and that is one story he told me), not having quite enough spuds for the roast dinner isn't exactly going to bring you out in hives is it? To him all life was good! That's my impression of him anyway! I never really asked him about WWII, I should have as I can imagine it would have been mind blowing, but you never do ask your parents stuff do you? It's only after they aren't there anymore that you think "Shit, wish I'd ask him/her about so and so", but, of course, by then it's too late.

My dad was fab, my mum on the other hand was a bit too out there! Mum was 10 years younger than dad, so while he was being marched, starving across fields in Germany, she was a kid running around with the rest of the kids gawping at the house of their school teacher which had been bombed and hoping that said poor woman was dead - kids, haven't changed much have they? My dad was one of 11 kids, my mum one of 4 girls! My dad wanted kids, my mum didn't!! Actually they was so chalk and cheese it always amazed me that they stayed together! But stay together they did and they had me! Just me! And I've grown up to be a slightly fucked up mixture of both of them! I love my kids, like my dad did me. Major crisis doesn't faze me just as much as it didn't faze dad and I'm secretly a romantic. But I'm independent like my mum, as mad as a hatter and prone to bouts of depression just as she was. She dreamed of travelling down the Nile and visiting the Valley of the Kings and I dream of living in the countryside on a homestead with chickens and a goat. She never realised her dream and I doubt very much if I'll ever realise mine, but hey ho, what the hell!

Back to birthdays and dad dying. The weirdest thing about the whole death thing was that my dad had gone out and bought me two videos (remember that format folks?) a couple of days before he died and the titles of those videos were 'Drop Dead Fred' and 'Flatliners' - spooky huh!!?? I still can't watch Flatliners without sobbing uncontrollably at the music at the end, although I love the film and Drop Dead Fred has other connotations that I'll go into at a later date. I cannot for the life of me remember what my mum bought me, but then why would I? That birthday was a poignant one and I think dad knew what was coming!

So as to tomorrow! Don't know what is happening, preferably nothing! I'm hoping for a quiet day with a lie in and a few pressies and a big kiss from my wonderful son. Ooo and Going Postal is on Sky1 tomorrow night and I love Terry Pratchet, so all in all it'll be another day with a few extra niceties dropped in! I will probably have a glass of wine or two or maybe even three and I will at some point have an incredible urge to watch Flatliners and have a good cry. Unfortunately I still only have it on video and our video player died years ago and we never replaced it, one day I must go out and replace the movies just so I can remember my dad in my own weird little way, not that he's ever forgotten, but is always remembered most around about now!