Wandering: Little Gifts from the Sky

Three lovely pellets, close up.

Ok, well maybe we only wandered as far as the elm tree outside the bedroom window, but Little Lad & I found three (!) Owl pellets this afternoon! Yes, right in our yard! I cannot help but think back to the experience I wrote about in "A Reply from the Gods" (see Notes on Nomad Meditations Week 2). 
Now to discover the secrets inside...

Owl pellets. A gift from the sky, even closer up.

If you don't have any pellets of your own & are having owl pellet envy, you can dissect a virtual owl pellet at KidWings. It is the awesome.

Sciento-Paganism, Entry 3: Deep or Nominal?

Questions & Her deepest Mysteries. Isn't that what spiritual journey is all about? 

I wandered across a blog this past week wherein the author discussed her search for a "path." She had many questions. She was uncertain about what her "path" should be. Should she be a Druid? A Wiccan? A Heathen? What? She had concerns about "mixing paths," she was looking for the "ONE." So many questions... 

Good, I thought. 

But then I read the comments section & found a statement akin to (but not exactly, lest I offend), 'when you find peace of mind & are no longer asking questions you will know you have found the "ONE."' This made my skin crawl. But that was my skin, not the commenters. Perhaps her skin is ok with complacency. Perhaps her skin dislikes the noise of a mind filled with questions.

This morning the folks at Scarlet Imprint released part of an interview with Nemeton (I confess I am unfamiliar with this personage) which is to be released in the February edition of The Cauldron. This part of the interview is titled: Question 13 - The Future of Paganism. Scarlet Imprint's purpose for republishing this segment is because they are hopping mad about some redacted text, but I was more engrossed in their general message & the essence of Nemeton's answer to Question 13:

"Paganism and witchcraft should be seething with green fire in the face of the ecological collapse...  

We need to embrace a Deep Paganism, a Deep Witchcraft in the same way that we need to embrace a Deep Ecology...

This is something that we need to be united about, regardless of the other petty struggles that can dominate the Craft. It does not matter a damn who owns the real estate of what is or isn't traditional, or who initiated who, or what survived, if the planet itself is dead. We are in an ecological end game and it is time to take sides on this greater issue. 

Witchcraft needs to rediscover its radical heritage and with urgency."   

 Ooooh... good stuff. Really good stuff. But it gets better.

In his response, Nemeton references an article in The Pomegranate: The International Journal of Pagan Studies (a peer-reviewed journal of Pagan studies) in which the author Michael York describes two kinds of Paganism: "deep or natural paganism" & "nominal or blind Paganism." His description of Deep paganism is:

“Humanity’s spontaneous response to Nature, the world around us and our unaffected sense of the animistic or numinous... this primordial paganism is atavistic and as such I am calling it root religion, the root of religion, the root of all religions.”

I must infer then, that "nominal or blind Paganism" refers, at least in part, to the folks who find a how-to book or perhaps a guru & then settle in with the "one," walking it without question, without seeking for more, without going deep into the Mysteries -- the folks who seek a "path" so that they no longer have to be bothered with questions. 

I personally prefer to ask questions, grapple with doubt, get dirty digging for that precious root deep in the belly of Mama Nature.

I mentioned in Sciento-Paganism, Entry I: The Mystery of Relationship that I have been reading a peculiar book on dreamwork. This book mystifies me. Is Mr. Kaplan Williams really actually discussing dreamwork? I am suspecting as I read ever-onward that his subtext is significantly more existential. He expresses my recent thoughts on the nature of questions & the Mysteries so precisely, so succinctly:

"Give the person questions, not answers...

When we truly ask a question we are admitting we do not have an answer. How many of us are willing to get down off the throne of authority and humble ourselves before the mystery? 

My life is my answer. Your opinion is not the answer for anything. I will accept your questions if they evoke the search for truth in me..."  (emphasis mine)

In the spirit of Mr. William's words, I leave you with this, a question: Does your "path" provide you with questions? Questions that kindle the search for truth in you? 

Question Onward.

Grappling with Nature: No One is Special

We traveled 180 miles across the desert to learn that The Changeling's right kidney has gone missing. 

No one is special.

I am out of sorts & empty, aching for my baby's missing pieces. I have pictures to prove they were once there... Where did they go?

The grappling began as soon as 'George' with the ultrasound wand said, "It's just not where it's supposed to be..." My mind reeled... "What?!?"

I find myself grappling with a world filled with gods, spirits, entities who sometimes just don't care, who sometimes are at cross-purposes with my interests, wants, needs or welfare. I find myself grappling with the belief that these beings just don't regard my wee one, my beloved Changeling, as special. I am grappling with the nature of Nature & no one... no one is special.

I was raised in a staunchly scientific home, so I ask myself, "Which is more difficult, more painful, more frightening to believe -- that there is nothing but the mechanistic workings of a spiritless universe or that divinity has the capacity for indifference?" The answer is hard to swallow. Why did I give up the comfort of disbelief & invite Them into my life, my heart, my psyche?

Today I have been thinking about a painting by the insightful & talented Molly Roberts over at HerSpeak. I think it says it all right about now.

She Doesn't Care If You're Special, by Molly Roberts. See her gallery here.

Sciento-Paganism, Entry I: The Mystery of Relationship

I have been struggling with where to begin this discussion, so I begin here. Perhaps this is an arbitrary decision, perhaps not. I myself, cannot say.

I am reading a very peculiar book entitled The Jungian-Senoi Dreamwork Manual, a type-written & self-published text by Strephon Kaplan Williams & the Jungian-Senoi Institute. There are several reasons for my selection of this book, but an explanation would lead to tangential discussion & it is much too late in the evening to commence such an endeavour. What is important to this entry is how acutely relevant Mr. William's words are to the foundation of my beliefs. All the concepts & techniques he discusses are in relation to dreams & he constantly reminds the reader of his dream-centeredness; "The central factor is the dream itself. The dream. Always the dream." Yet, I cannot shake the feeling that he is talking about much more than just the dreamworld. 

Many passages in this book have moved me, inspired me to deeper thought, or even prompted a desire to write, but none so much as the following statement:

"The discovery of relationship is the experience of meaning."

I have a single, one-word response to this assertion: Exactly. 

Before I elaborate, I would like to add a few more points from the Dreamwork Manual which expand upon this principle. Williams places great importance on the process of "question-asking" during dreamwork & writes: 

"A question is the central response to life... A question is a great mystery... The more ways we can ask questions of ourselves, the more possibilities we will have for living life. Let my life end in a way that it ends as a question, a mystery, and not an answer. Answers end reality. Questions begin it anew." 

I would argue that this "question-asking" is essential to the pursuit of spiritual development & awareness. It is an avenue, a channel, a path to the mysteries & to the gods. It is not the only way, but it is a vital one. Of course, I speak for myself, but I could not be without it. It is my way.

Allegoria della vita umana, by Guido Cagnacci. @Wiki.

Encountering, uncovering, discovering the relationships, the connections that make up our universe is for me, a spiritual process. Every time I learn something new, two particularly significant phenomena occur: 1) I am forever changed by the new knowledge, 2) a deluge of new questions flood my mind. It is not unlike initiation: I enter the lesson a neophyte -- a small fragment, a thread, of the web that is Nature's Great Mystery is revealed to me & I emerge transformed, yet yearning for more. 

He will be surprised to learn this, but some of the most profoundly spiritual moments in my life were brought about by my father, a professor of biology who has spent the greater part of his research career working in the field of functional morphology (a branch of biology which seeks to understand, within an evolutionary context, how anatomical structures work to allow an organism to accomplish certain tasks). My childhood was filled with questions, relationships, wonder... & a deep reverence for mysteries of the Natural World. My father engendered this in me by asking me questions. He never simply explained something. He always asked me to figure it out myself, leaving me to ponder, to chew on it for awhile. When he finally gifted me with a lesson, he left me with more questions.

See photo credits below.*

If you have ever been in the presence of a researcher on the brink of a major discovery, you can attest to the alchemy that takes place as the observations, bits of data & ideas condense in the alembic of the scientist's mind. The same distillation of thought, the experience of personal epiphany, happens for me when I read a book, take a course, hear a lecture or have an encounter or insight which pieces together loose (sometimes seemingly disparate) ends in the great web of our existence. This process of stumbling upon connections, having "aha!" moments, recognizing, understanding & relishing relationships brings me closer to deity:

"The discovery of relationship is the experience of meaning."

Life, Nature -- the web of connections -- are wondrously intricate. They are the mystery of mysteries. They can be unpredictable, inspiring & sometimes unpleasant. Chasing their threads is part of my journey. Asking the next question is my way.

* The Alchymist, In Search of the Philosopher’s Stone, Discovers Phosphorus, and prays for the successful Conclusion of his operation, as was the custom of the Ancient Chymical Astrologers, by Joseph Wright of Derby, now in Derby Museum and Art Gallery, Derby, U.K. Photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons.

When the December Moon is bright...

Thirty six hours after the Esbat, my poetry wishes came to fruition: the snow fell in abundance & "the wild creatures ranged, while the moon rose and shone."

Mule Deer (Odocoileus hemionus) tracks in the fresh snow.

How much can come, how much can go
When the December moon is bright,
What worlds of play we'll never know
Sleeping away the cold white night
After a fall of snow.  -- May Sarton

Life. Isn't it all so very grand?

Poetry for the Esbat: Long Nights Moon 2011

Whew. Just in time.

We made it. Crazy, fickle, snowbird gypsies we are -- crazy like jaybirds. It seems like an eternity we squatted on that Anchorage hillside with our cats & suitcases, poised for action like the backend of a crouching feline. Just waiting, tightly wound & positioned to spring forth, to free ourselves from the dark & frigid North, launching into the cold, dry vastness of the Utah desert. Just waiting for that plane to arrive.  

We traveled by the light of the waxing Moon & leaving the plane & Las Vegas behind, we drove into higher altitudes. Always with the Moon -- Her radiance dusting the plateaus & valley floors like snow. Morning revealed our high desert homeland in a characteristic sharp winter glare. A contradiction: stark, yet brilliant -- blinding with goldtones. The pasture, the hills, even the cliffs are still without snow & I was surprised to find myself just a wee bit nostalgic for the frozen blanket under which we had lived since before Samhain.

However, it is very easy to feel welcome here, to be happy to have arrived. Living in the city, we temporarily forget the unexpected conveniences of country life. In this tiny town it is possible to walk over to the telephone company, sign a new internet service contract & have a man we know by name arrive at the house to make sure we are receiving all the megs we paid for, all within a span of four hours. Just in time for the weekend. 

Just in time for the Esbat. 

Tonight, our Lady Moon goes by the name the Long Nights Moon, also the Cold Moon or the Moon Before Yule, all of which are very appropriate. But the name Long Nights is of dual significance. First, of course, it speaks to this Moon's close proximity to Midwinter, the longest night of the year. Secondly, the name points to the lesser known fact that this full Moon, being opposite a low Sun, has high trajectory & remains above the horizon, within our view longer throughout the night than other full Moons.

I selected the poem for this Esbat out of longing, or perhaps anticipation. I have lived & re-lived this poem time & time again here in the Utah winterscape. Something about the Alaskan snow, or landscape, or both, does not afford this pleasure. It is one those precious gifts of Nature, one I can count on, one I await with great anticipation. Year after year, its magic never fades.

December Moon by May Sarton

Before going to bed
After a fall of snow
I look out on the field
Shining there in the moonlight
So calm, untouched and white
Snow silence fills my head
After I leave the window.

Hours later near dawn
When I look down again
The whole landscape has changed
The perfect surface gone
Criss-crossed and written on
where the wild creatures ranged
while the moon rose and shone.

why did my dog not bark?
Why did I hear no sound
There on the snow-locked ground
In the tumultuous dark?

How much can come, how much can go
When the December moon is bright,
What worlds of play we'll never know
Sleeping away the cold white night
After a fall of snow.

It is good to be home. Blessings to you this Esbat my friends.

Wandering: While Winter Waxes

Today, I desperately needed to wander.

In spite of a lingering head-cold & the frigid rain, I donned my foul-weather gear & journeyed into the forest with the family for what might be our last opportunity to revel in the final breaths of an uncharacteristically long season.

 Returning to the Earth.

There I found what I needed. 

I always do.

Despite the cold, creeping touch of winter, the beauty of life abounded. Death too.

I fell in love, over & over.

Pretty polypore on a rotting conifer.

Split-gills & lichens on alder.

Orange sponge polypore (Pycnoporellus alboluteus ) & a slime mold (Arcyria spp. ?)

Polypore & lichens on birch.

Witches' Butter (Tremella mesenterica).

Late season umbrella.

Tiny polypores & lichens on alder.

A Wee One on a dried grass shaft.

Wine-coloured polypores - thank you Bacchus.

Wandering: Procession

From the bluff above, I imagined a sacred procession...

Sunset over the Cook Inlet, Anchorage, Alaska.

I must have forgotten myself for a moment, soon remembering that every step we walk on this Earth is sacred.

Wandering: A Mystery with the Most Vivid Colour

"Some things in their natural state have the most VIVID colours." 

~ Willow, The Wicker Man

Wandering the Campbell Creek Tract back in June I came across this woodland aberration:

I would have passed her by, thinking her some kind of human refuse, had she not hailed me as she postured along the creekside like a Las Vegas showgirl. Skeptically, I weaved through the exclusion fencing to inspect my questionable caller. Simultaneously appalled & awestruck, I realized that this was actually something living -- I had heard right, she did holler at me. I snapped a hurried handful of photographs, feeling ambivalent, amazed, horrified. Her color was almost synthetic, it was so vivid…
What the Helvella is this parrot of the boreal forest, this freakish fuzz brazenly camped along the water's edge? I don't know. One would think that something this garish would make an easy mark for identification, but not so. In my search, I exhausted all the permutations of 'fuzzy, furry, pink, hot pink, bright pink, mold/mould, slime mold/mould, fungus on ground, soil, near stream, river, in forest, in Alaska' that can be assembled. And it was all for naught.
She (most decidedly a she, or as much a she as a [slime?]mold can be) retains her 'mystery woman' status for now.
Until such time as I discover her true identity (& I welcome suggestions), I dub her Mysterium luridus; Mysterium for being so strange, difficult to explain & inviting much speculation, luridus because she is at the same time, both distasteful & appealing. Wishing I could feature her on a milk carton, hoping for answers I ask: Have you seen her?

Community Mushroom Hunt: Photo Batch # 1

This past weekend we sponsored a Mushroom Hunt with our community from the Anchorage Pagan Meetup. We had a marvelous time & are so thankful for everyone who joined us. What a gift to be able to share with you.
As promised, I am posting photos of the mushroom species described in the handout. As of this writing, I have about 50% of them uploaded (in order of appearance in handout) -- I need to get our external hard drives to add the rest. Below each photo, along with the mushroom name, I have added a (*) if we actually found that mushroom on Sunday. Those of you who missed the hunt can still enjoy some photos of some of Nature's greatest organisms. (Click on any photo to enlarge it.) Blessings My Friends.

Witchʼs Hat (Hygrocybe conica) *

Emetic Russula (Russula emetica)

Orange Birch Bolete (Leccinum testaceoscabrum) *

King Bolete (Boletus edulis) *

Bleeding Hydnellum (Hydnellum peckii) *

 Birch Polypore (Piptoporus betulinus) *

Tinder Polypore (Fomes fomentarius) *

Artistʼs Conk (Ganoderma applanatum) *?

Crown-tipped Coral (Clavicorona pyxidata)

Crested Coral (Clavulina cristata) *

 

Gem-studded Puffball (Lycoperdon perlatum) *

Blue Stain Fungus (Chlorociboria aeruginascens)

Wandering: Greeting the Wee Ones

Tiny leaf mushrooms, species unknown.

Hello my little friends,
Please sing to me
Your tiny faerie songs.

Wandering: Paradise or Parasite?

A casual glance a this image yields a deceptively tropical feel, assuming you do not dwell upon the coniferous twig in the foreground or inspect the leaf litter too closely. When I stumbled upon this oddity I literally dove under the low-lying tree to inspect it. Then, while crouching in the duff I came to my senses & retrieved the stroller (with baby) from the path. What was this weirdness I was seeing? I was unsure how to even begin the search for the answer -- was this even a plant? I imagined loading a search engine with this: 'strange, elongated, pinecone-looking thing under tree in Alaska.' Fortune smiled upon me however & my search was short.
Quite serendipitously, my godfather had gifted me with a book just days before that would provide the answer. The Field Guide to Alaskan Wildflowers (V. Pratt) happens to have a section in the back describing some "Miscellaneous Plants and Trees." Among the the miscellany is the peculiar organism in question: Broomrape or Ground Cone, Boschniakia rossica. The tree I dove under was a Mountain Alder -- this is important because this plant is a parasite which grows exclusively on the roots of the Mountain Alder. It has no chlorophyll so it depends entirely upon its host tree for its relatively long life-span. Fascinating.

Uses & Lore
Of course, I needed to know more, so I did some poking around & discovered it has a bit of folklore & several interesting medicinal uses. Because it occurs around the northern regions of both North America & Asia, various peoples have found applications for this peculiar plant.

• The Chinese use the whole plant medicinally (often as a tea) for invigorating & nourishing the kidneys, relaxing the bowels & invigorating Yang (that is, curing impotence).

• The Gwich'in (the most Northern Native peoples in the Americas) chew the white core for "medicine" or, they dry & grind it into a powder for ingestion &/or topical use. The young plants have a white portion of their root which the Gwich'in call the "potato." The potato is eaten to relieve stomach upset & improve the appetite. In addition to medicine, the Gwich'in traditionally used the plants to make pipes & even added dried, pounded roots to their tobacco.

• The Dena'ina (an Alaskan Native people) tie a piece around the neck of a baby to help it grow correctly.

• Various Native Canadian peoples have been documented using it as a food source (Grizzly bears love it too!).

• One source noted the it can be used in stress relieving teas & can also be added to facial steams for oily skin.

• Medical studies show it may delay the degenerative changes in the brain associated with aging & the NIH reports that it may be hepatoprotective (liver protective) & possibly have application in treatment of acute liver injury.

I had expected to find a great deal of folklore & medicinal uses for B. rossica associated with Russia. I was befuddled when at first, I found very little. I then discovered that this plant is an endangered species in Northern Russia & perhaps this accounts for the lack of information describing how to use it. If you know something more about this amazing plant, please leave me a comment -- I would love to know more.

Wandering: Splendrous Stemonitis

What wonders are revealed as I wander! The strange beauty of the forest floor, the decaying woods, the dark corners few ever bother to explore -- they never fail to gift me with a treasure when I seek them. Sometimes I find them by scent or sight, other times it seems they whisper to me, or vibrate. I cannot explain it, but I often feel their presence before I find them, as if I am being watched. This only happens with fungi; we must have a connection I don't yet fully understand. 

 
While on a wandering, this charmer gave me a whisper. It is one of the slime molds named Stemonensis spp. There are many of these brown beauties & they are difficult to ID down to the individual species without examining their spores microscopically. However, this one is likely S. splendens (what an apropos name!), the Chocolate Tube Slime or Pipe Cleaner Slime or possibly it is another of a number of these lovely mocha "Tree hair slimes." In the sunlight, it has an ethereal appearance, much like a sea anenome. If you brush it you receive a light dusting of fine, cocoa-like spores. I fell in love instantly.

Wandering: Wolf's Milk

Meet Lycogala epidendrum, one of my favourite slime molds. In common parlance, it is called Wolf's Milk or Toothpaste Slime (what toothpaste is pink?). I found this one while wandering last week & felt the usual compulsion to photograph it. What you see is its showy fruiting phase -- slowly, it will turn a brown/grey colour. 

The name Wolf's Milk makes me wonder, when & why did it receive this name? How might our ancestors have viewed this unusual organism? What fascinating lore has been lost to us by the passing of time? 
I try to imagine what magickal qualities, uses & origins were once attributed to it. As (neo)Pagans, we are continually searching for the old wisdom & creating the new. We cannot recover what might have been lost with respect to the Wolf's Milk, but how might we use it today? What qualities would you assign to it?

Destination: Downhill

I am not an urban creature. I am generally uncomfortable with cities & their common attributes: people (in numbers), noise, refuse & traffic (most notably the driving therein). Until now, our lifestyle has afforded us the rare gift of living in two beautiful, uncity-like environs: a remote, rural desert town & the forested fringes of a medium-sized city. Soon however, we will be obligated to remove ourselves from the latter dwelling & set up camp in the belly of the city. 
Every day that passes brings us closer to our departure from this hill top haven, my Nature's nest. Every day my heart breaks a little more. I have taken for granted so many days, weeks, months spent walking in these forests. Blessed I am to wake to horses in the yard, trees in droves, no neighbors in sight. Spoiled I am to complain as this time & place of solitude comes to an end.
Ultimately, I know I will need to look at this as an opportunity to search out & find the Nature that is everywhere, even hidden among the concrete slabs & asphalt wastes. I will need to seek to understand the greater purpose of this upheaval. For now though, I will savor my last days on the hill & brood, just a little, over saying goodbye.