Date Night

The weekend is over and it feels like it blew past me before I even had time to enjoy it. Except for one thing, that is. Cameron and I had a date Saturday night!

Cameron took a couple of pictures of me. Meet my familar, Dickens. He's ten years old and was adopted from a shelter in the Atlanta area. I actually adopted his orange and white sister, Starshine, first. But my boyfriend of the time took her over. So I went back after the weekend and brought her littermate home. In his prime, Dickens was the fastest cat in the house. His favorite game was laser tag. A few years ago, Starshine got out of the house. When she came home, she appeared to have injested anti-freeze. We rushed her to the animal hospitol but she did not survive. For about a year and a half Dickens had a terrible personality change. He ceased working as my familiar. He got out frequently. Once he disappeared for six weeks. When he came home injured, the reunion was joyful. He stayed in for several weeks before escaping again. But he no longers wanders far or long. I have come to believe that he was so grief striken by the loss of Starshine that it changed him permenately.

On our date, Cameron and I did one of our favorite things. We went to Copper River, sat on the patio, watched the sunset and flirted under the stars. Some things are to precious for words.

Death Comes in Threes

About a month ago we lost our beloved dog Ewok. Cameron has spoken extensively about that loss and the many years they shared. A week ago we were preparing to attend Truth Teller's funeral. Then last night the neighbor knocked on the door. They had found our "grey boy" Marco beside their house. He looked like he had fallen asleep -- no sign of trauma or poisoning. But he had crossed the rainbow bridge.

The term "grey boy" refers to several generations of kittens that came from Cameron and Luna's home. The mother cats Bridget, Frya, or Wee Bit produced them, and Baldor fatheed them all. As kittens were often more closely together, and hidden until one of the human found them, not to mention co-paretned, Cameron and Luna were never certain of parentage. With so many rescues in the house, and unable to make it to the vet before the next litter was born, Cameron and Luna had a number of inbred grey and white cats over a period of several years. None were very bright, but what they lacked in intelligence they made up for with affection. Indeed, they were some of the most affectionate cats I have ever met.

Marco adopted me seven years ago when I moved to South Carolina to get back on my feet. I moved in with Cameron and Luna temporarily. We had much drama in those years. When Cameron moved in with me a year later, we made a no-drama, we are monogamous commitment.

During those months, I lived in Cameron's studio. It was a small bedroom dominated by a concrete and 2x4 bookcase and a map table. I had a single bed, six inches in a closet, and enough room for three stacking crates. Yet somehow, I made it work.

Because the space was so small, I decided I did not want any cats in the bedroom. Marco, however, decided to adopt me. He cried piteously outside my door, and lurked nearby to run in every time the door opened. Once he convinced me that he was sleeping in my room, word got around. I can just imagine the conversation he had with litter mate Little John, "Hey man, it's the best room in the house and you only have to share her with me!"

When I moved out, Marco came with me. Nine months later, Cameron moved in. Around that time, Marco escaped out the door. Occasionally he came home, obviously having been adopted

by a second family who had put a flea color on him. He always arrived sleek and healthy, and after about three days he would make it past us and out the door. After disappearing for an even longer time than usual, I gave up on him coming home, although Cameron remained optimistic.

Almost a year after his last disappearance, I opened the door and there stood a filthy, near starved, glazed donut faced cat. The snot covered his nose, cheeks and mouth. Only the white mark on his hip told me that Marco had come home. Grieving, almost certain my cat was going to die, we cleaned him up and took him to the vet the next morning.

Dr P didn't think he was going to make it. But he sent Cameron home with IV fluids, needles and special stinky cat food. Within 48 hours, I knew my cat would live. Two weeks later, with a bit of an occasional sneeze and two rounds of antibiotics later, Marco was reintegrated with the household.

Initially he was content to be an indoor cat. However, as the weather warmed the spring, he began getting out past us again. He loved to lead us on frantic chases, staying just out of reach and usually at a time that critical for us to be somewhere else! Cameron at last learned that if she sat and waited he would come home quicker, disappointed that she wasn't participating in his play.

Last Saturday night he sat side by side with his brother Legba (Marco's the cat on the right) playing vulture kitty. They were watching Christian Mystic getting settled to sleep on our love seat. The next morning he got out, and I never saw him alive again.

Loosing a furbaby is like loosing a small child. They depend upon us, and in exchange, offer a great deal of love. Marco adored laying on my shoulder and having his ears scratched. He was a traditional "grey boy," meaning he was extraordinarily affectionate.

Indeed, I take my role as a servant of Bastet very seriously. We have a total of 21 cats today. I love each one deeply, knowing their stories, their histories and their preferences. So the loss of even one strikes deeply. The scripture in the bible about the shepherd who seeks out even one lost sheep, and does not rest until the sheep is within the fold, describes exactly how I feel about our furbabies. To lose one, especially so unexpectedly, is more difficult than I can possibly put into word.

Until I cross the rainbow bridge and am surrounded by all my furchildren who crossed before me, I shall miss you Marco. Your memory is precious. I grieve you deeply.

This is the lovely Lady who sits on my altar. I found her at Phonix and Dragon in Atlanta. Cameron tells me I had been drawn to her previously, though I had no memory of her.

We were visiting Fiber Geek and Cat when we went to the pagan bookstore. I was drawn to her, and found myself carrying her around the store, tears inexplicably streaming down my cheeks. She had to go home with me. Cameron had no say (fortunately, she was encouraging). Rather than buy groceries that week, we had my Lady.

Gaia's hair is adorned with dragon flies, which represent magic. Although I've studied many pantheons and work specifically with Innanna, Bastet, and Kali, when I think of the Lady, this is the image that comes to mind.

This beautiful image came to me today by way of of GrannyMoon's Morning Feast. It honors the Goddess Luonatar. I like GrannyMoon's approach to "The teachings here are based on ordinary magick, the principle that the mundane and the Divine are not separate, but peacefully coexist in all things."

Finding the sacred in the ordinary gives life purpose. As I work my way through school, and make my living as a substance abuse counselor, I am reminded daily of how much I value the opportunity to answer my calling. Today will be a 17 hour day from the time I leave home, work, do therapy at the clinic and then attend my play therapy class this evening.

Exhausted does not begin to describe how I feel. Yet I thrive, because for the first time in my life I am doing the work I am called to do. While I have always tried to recognize the sacred in the mundane, it is much easier these days. I am so grateful for the opportunity to work in my field, to do therapy with my clients, to attend classes. I look forward to attended seminary as well.

I always think of therapy rooms as sacred space. Now my office at work is likewise sacred. As the wounded pour in, I am reminded again and again that miracles happen through simple kindnesses and gentle words. Perhaps my work as managing a restaurant, or as a technical writer was likewise sacred, but it certainly was not my calling. My world has become joyful.

Ironic, when it can also be incredibly challenging. Yesterday a co-therapist who was seeing the children of my client had to report her to DSS. My client is angry and feels betrayed because my co-therapist did not talk to her before the call was made. Today a client returned to the clinic for the forth time, in the worst shape I have ever seen her. DSS has already taken her children. Yet my words have the power to comfort, to inform, to direct. My words can be channeled from the goddess to her children when I get out of the way. What an amazing thing.

SC GBLT Pride

Cameron and I would have really liked to have been there. As members and future therapists to the gay community, I believe we have an ethical responsibility to support GLBT causes. Unfortunately, with Truth Teller's death, we had other responsibilities this weekend. Unexpected guests resulted in quite the adventure. My guest bedroom was buried and barely had a path in the door. I am proud to report it is now cleaned up and most beautiful. Soon as I get a futon for the living room, it will become my library, making me a very happy witch!

Summer's Blessing

Goddess in a Box

I posted this challenge to my favorite e-mail list. I figured it would only be fair to answer here before everyone else begins chiming in!

As part of my first degree challenge, I was given an assignment to create a Goddess in a Box. I bought a picnic basket and could put 10 things in it that I would want to have with me in case of a pagan/wiccan emergency. Over time I found my needs changed as I took my box for various workings. It also got smaller as I got more in tune with my own needs. Here's what is in mine now:

Goddess in a Box
1. Pencil - spell writing and note taking
2. Paper
3. Small Goddess figure - mini alter
4. String - binding, cutting, and tying spells to candles
5. Matches or lighter
6. Tarot cards - divination
7. Balancing eggs - I cheat here: one pink and green; egg shaped glass does a remarkable job of balancing/calming
8. Athame
9. Candle
10. Sage incense - clearing and sanctifying

Depending on the working, I may substitute a wand for the athame. I find that it works better for delicate healing and energy work. My favorite want was previously a hair stick with a stone set in the end. It was gifted to me.