Remember-Who-You-Are-Moon: Another Mushroom Moon Shrine. Cultivating Tradition.

"The Moon now rises..."

True traditions take time to develop.
We cannot get them from someone else's book.
They are organic & take on a life of their own...


The Wheel still turns. How do we know? Traditions. Once again we found ourselves constructing a Mushroom Moon Shrine. How quickly the helix that is Time winds & unwinds.

Traditions.
We breathe life into them from our spirits, with our hearts.

All the signs were auspicious. All the signs were just right. We entered the dripping forest, rubber-clad to find one welcome after another. Old friends, new friends. Just right.


"Welcome to the forest," they whispered...

Artillery, or Cannonball Fungi with Moose dung & the loyal dime.

"...the rich, fertile, viscosity of fruit & decay awaits..."

Fungi & slime. Auspicious indeed.

Something new, long anticipated emerges from the duff. Auspicious.

Hydnum umbilicatum, the Sweet Tooth or,
perhaps Hydnum repandum, the Hedgehog Mushroom.
Hooray, either way.

Old friends arise...

Amanita muscaria. One among thousands.

...& rise to epic proportions. Playfully auspicious.

A. muscaria tabletops.
Befuddlingly large & abundant this year.
(The camera is a healthy SLR size.)

We arrive at our shrine site. As before, it is just right...

& still with remains of last year's shrine,

Last year's Aritst's conk (Ganoderma applanatum).

& again with the fruit of the Wolf's Milk. So auspicious.

Wolf's Milk Slime.
Keeping with Tradition.

We get to our work & this time, this time no mess, no fuss. Hubby is with us & the Changeling nods off & the result makes my heart sing & I gasp & squeal like a suckling pig. We are all smiles in the drip, drip, drip of the weeping treetops. 

This is all for Her...

...& all of them 
& Them 
& ourselves 
& you.

This is the bud of Tradition.

The Wheel has turned, Tradition tells us. "The Moon now rises to Her absolute rule..." (H. D. Thoreau)

Animism: Not a Comfort "Religion"

It really isn't, either. Nor is it either one.

Mama & baby occupy the path, August 9, 2012. 

In reference to a disturbing, ironic twist of fate & weird Wyrd-ness, a friend wrote, "you can build shrines... & write poems... (but) Nature is so impersonal... Animism is not a comforting 'religion.'” And it's true, having that sense of being cared for & attended to as an individual creature-being -- a "self" -- is often absent from my practice. Usually, I am ok with that.

When unexpected & difficult situations arise, I sometimes feel betrayed. Intellectually, I know this is a wasted emotion. For if I truly seek immersion in the other-than-human world, I must accept the risks; the risks of disappointment, dissatisfaction, danger, fear, indifference, repudiation, loneliness. If I need comfort, I cannot not seek it from the dispassionate elder gods; the primal forces that drive this world's engine. I must always remember that no one is special.

Instead, I must endeavour to seek reassurance elsewhere in the Web. I often find I look to the constancy, consistency, rhythms & regularity of Their work. I get my Ease & Hope in knowing that in any given circumstance, some of us will be spared, some things can always be relied upon & every now & again, someone, or something throws us a bone. I also try to remember to always cherish my gifts-in-hand.

I find comfort in the big (& relatively permanent) consistencies:

Seeds: Hope incarnate.

The Sun rises & sets. Source stability always.

Lady Moon waxes & wanes. Rhythm incarnate.

The Wheel turns with relentless constancy. Winter withers, Spring sprouts.

Stuff is imagined, built, destroyed, decayed. Life begins anew & Life ends anew. You can bet on it.

All the layers of everything -- the depths to the shallows -- are spinning, whirling, cycling, re-cycling.

'Round & round we go. Ride on.



I find comfort in small dependabilities & gifts-in-hand:

Blissful bluff: New territory.

The cat will crap on the bathroom floor every night. In the morning I will curse him & amid my irritation, remember my love for him. An old gift-in-hand.

Moose will inevitably obstruct the path, especially at this time of year. Forced to explore alternate routes, we will wander into new & blissful territory. A new gift-in-hand.

My family will insure that I have no privacy, no time to myself & never, ever a decent night's sleep. I will have no regrets -- I am their flamekeeper & they walk with my heart in their hands. The most precious gift of all.


Some might call it Pollyanna. I call it survival. Let the chips fall where they may & may we find them to be in our favour. For now I can find comfort in knowing that things will go on until they don't & I will remain thankful for my precious gifts-in-hand. You know who you are.

Mama & baby occupy the same path, October 21, 2012
& together we celebrated the familiarity.

Reinventing the Wheel: Mother Hulda's Night

A peculiar juxtaposition: Fire & Snow.
All of it for Mother Hulda.

I wish I had the opportunity to keep better records than I have been recently. Things have shifted dramatically, so many demands leaving me scatter-brained, without time & completely exhausted. But, I must remind myself that even the smallest something is more than nothing. Baby steps. This is how we will build tradition.

Yesterday, Saturday October 13th. The snow resolved to arrive in earnest. This was no first frost, nor was it a spitting, sputtering "warning shot" as Hubby calls them. No, this snow stuck, allowing Little Lad to dart in & out of the house collecting snowballs (to eat?) for several hours before we had to put a lid on it.

All day I kept thinking of the Grimm's Fairy Tale "Mother Hulda." It has always been one of my favourites, second only perhaps to my childhood standard, "Sweetheart Roland." As the flakes fell & the breezes blew, we chased off to a frigid but jovial pagan community walk on the Coastal Trail, then later more chasing, this time to a very cozy pagan community mask-making workshop. I thought of Mother Hulda & her bedding -- fluffing, shaking, making -- as we scurried about beneath her storm. 

What the phone saw: First "Tenacious Snowfall" 2012.

By evening, I felt a strange resolution that this should be "Mother Hulda's Night" -- the night of the first  tenacious snowfall. (There is no measure for this, it is something you just recognize.) "We'll add it to the Wheel," I said. 

But what do we do to celebrate our new fangled Mother Hulda's Night?

Curl up, all together (dress code: jammies) & read the story aloud of course. But what else, what are the symbols, how do we show our recognition? 

Ah, wait. The frosted glass & silver dish. Earlier in the week, Hubby arrived home with a pretty little dish stamped "Celtic Quality Silverplate." He is a fan of collecting odds & ends, particularly silverplate & he truly relishes the hunt. (Sterling is even better, but who can find it anymore?) The edge of the dish is stamped with an unusual pattern which looks something like emaciated oak leaves, but is probably really supposed to be thistle. At first glance, however, I had mistaken the pattern for snowflakes. At the time I wondered, "...what will become the purpose of this special dish?" but last night I knew. We would light a beeswax tealight in that dish as a beacon & place it in the window to signal our affection & appreciation for Mother Hulda & all that which keeps the Wheel turning...

Interesting. When the candle was lit, the "leaves" aka "snowflakes" looked suspiciously like wheels. Oh, I love it when symbols pile on top of one another! Soon after the dish & candle were set in the window, Little Lad ran in with a handful of snow. "For Mother Hulda's Night," he said as he handed it over. We placed it in a little plate beside the silver dish. I can always depend on him to know what to do. 

Then, to the bed we went. With ceremonial sleepwear donned, we clambered under the covers (some clambering more than others) & curled up with the trusty laptop because none of us could locate a single one of our four copies of Grimm's Fairy Tales. Not so romantic, but, next year we'll iron it out. How will this traditon change, develop, evolve? When will it happen? I would like to say I can't wait, but I can.

To read the story (in a variety of languages), visit "Mother Hulda" at the Grimm's Fairy Tales website.

"The headpiece of Mother Hulda." by Walter Crane
courtesy of University of Rochester Library.

The Wheel: Signs of Change, Part 1., Or, Who Turned Up the RPM?

Did it begin with the Belugas?

The purpose of this post, at least in part, is to continue building on our "reinvented" Wheel of the Year. Keeping awareness of the changes in our bioregion, the passage of time & the aspects that touch us as creatures of Place is key to developing our New Wheel.

Searching for Beluga Whales on the Cook Inlet at Sunset.

 August 21st. While chasing Belugas chasing Salmon up the Cook Inlet, I said to myself, "The Wheel is turning the corner. Quickly." How did I know this?

Highbush Cranberry leaves (Viburnum edule).

The same day, we noted how the Highbush Cranberries (Viburnum edule) had begun to turn colour. Soon, they would begin to smell, a strong, distinctive scent that says, "We're almost ready for picking..." 

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  Autumn commencing on a Birch-lined path.

  August 27th. I paused to take this photograph which struck me as quite telling. Also telling is the ongoing frenzy of bees & wasps as their season rapidly comes to a close. Not long after I took this photo, some harried hymenoptera stung me on the back as I snooped in the cranberry bushes for a status check. Of course, I should have let it rest. Cranberries must be gathered after the first freeze.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

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    Shaggy Manes, Puffballs & Champignons from the ballfields.

    September 3. After crowberry picking in Arctic Valley, the Little Lad pleaded for an opportunity to hunt for Shaggy Manes (Coprinus comatus) a notoriously cool weather fungi. I was not so excited about this venture, mostly because I knew if we found them, it would be another sign. The boys returned from the ballfields with their bounty bundled in Hubby's hoodie.
    
    
    

    
    
     

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      ARR train returning from Seward.

      September 5. We took the train to the seaport town of Seward. This is a significant cultural sign of the seasons changing. As the tourist season wanes, the local folks have a brief window of opportunity to acquire seats on this train before it is tucked away for the winter. This is something I would like to make an annual ritual -- both a welcoming & a goodbye -- as ceremony can manifest in limitless forms.

    
    

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      Yesterday. I went for a walk, taking my knife & a bag but forgetting my camera. The scent of cranberries was heavy in the air. There were no fleshy fungi. None. In the hard tilt of the late Autumn light, I considered their absence & felt very lonely.
      
      

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        Today. I see that it froze last night. It is almost over. Time for cranberries.

Rebalancing, Part 1: Reentry & Reorientation

From the plane somewhere over Seattle, we witnessed the last Transit of Venus for this century. How diminutive Venus appears, as if a mote, against the blazing orb that is our Sun. Remembering that She is not too different from our beloved Earth, it was yet another moment of Sciento-Reverence, another humbling lesson in perspectivism.

Looking back at that revamped, animist-snowbird style Wheel of the Year, I gave myself an appreciative nod for having the foresight to include the window of "rebalancing." It is much needed. There are so many adjustments to be made during reentry.  

Like trading these horsetails...

Local horse tails (Equus ferus caballus) in Utah.

for these...

Local horsetails (Equisetum arvense), spring phase, in Alaska.

And giving up the sunrise over Breakfast Canyon...

Just another Breakfast Canyon Sunrise.

for a windowless view to the East.


And to the South,

Looking to the South.

well, it's an adjustment.


But I asked the Fat One what he sees when he looks to the South & to my pleasure he reminded me that we can find Beauty (or tasty, to some folk's palate) anywhere...

North American Robin (Turdus migratorius) 

Just before we left Utah, we had some friends over for a glass of wine & a few final moments of conviviality. The discussion meandered to the subject of the Midnight Sun, the ceaseless days & the absentee Moon. To my surprise (I tend to forget that some of my fleshworld people know of this journal), one of our guests turned to me & said, "Yes! What will you do with yourself?" Without the Moon, he meant. Indeed, what will I do? 

This is a new place. Not the same place as last year, nor that of the year before. This is a new place to greet, to learn, to know. To make home. But this time, we have a place to set roots.

And this is Alaska. Land of vast potential, teeming with possibilities. Even in our backyard.

Our new Alaska greenhouse.
After so many barren years, shall it become a living shrine to Abundance?

So, I rethink my orientation in this fresh location. A Solar, Southerly frame it shall be. I think. Somehow. Despite the rain & the multiplexes. 

Like the views, the daily rites & rituals will change. What they will be, I do not yet know because I believe in letting them create themselves. In this way, they become organic, innate to each day, part of the natural course of events. I will not need to "make time" for them, they will just happen. They will simply become part of this place, this life.

And our Lady Moon? Well, let's just say She's entering Her "Shy Phase." Or something. My consolation? I think perhaps, just maybe, I can almost smell the mushrooms.

For the Files: Love A Tree Day Children's Ceremony

World Tree(s), by friend & kindred spirit Bryan Perrin.

The Wee Ones & I tried out our own rendition of the Love a Tree Day for our "Reinvented Wheel." It seems with the children it is best to keep it simple & meaningful. So, in some haste, I came up with a rhyme we could say as we fed each of our trees (the shrubs got some too). I wanted to be sure to save it here for following years, although I confess, the rhyme could use some re-working to make it flow more smoothly. But, what can one expect from a rhyme composed in the car en route to a T-Ball game?

Since we have some saplings, some medium sized trees & a couple of very large, old trees, we adjusted the words to fit them more personally, alluding to the future/potential of our younger trees & speaking to the past/present with the larger, older trees.

While pouring food, we addressed each tree:

Great Old Tree, Great Old Tree,
Thanks for all you give to me,
Under thee,
The shade is free,
Here we'll ever happy be.

(Substitute "Middlin' Tree" & "Little Tree" for Great Old Tree. Adjustment for future tense of saplings: "Thanks for all you'll give to me... the shade will be free.")

Part of me wants to add more to the rhyme, but I must remind myself of the limitations of the children's ability to remember all of it. Perhaps we can add more lines over the years, as the grow older & more able to memorize a longer piece.

Reinventing the Wheel: Love A Tree Day

In light of the "Reinventing the Wheel" project, I have been keeping an eye out for meaningful days of remembrance, celebration, reverence, etc. to consider adding to our newfangled "Wheel of the Year." Today is one of those days I think just might have merit: Love a Tree Day. According to the National Wildlife Federation blog, "Love A Tree Day comes on May 16th, right in the middle of Garden for Wildlife Month..."Garden for Wildlife Month?!? How awesome is that? 

Black Locust (Robinia pseudoacacia)
blossoms, much loved by bees.

We are always trying to make planting choices for the land here that will support the local wildlife. If we add flowering plants, we try to add plants which will support bee colonies, butterflies or will provide nectar for hummingbirds. We try to keep our eyes toward native species, but when that is not possible, we opt for trees & shrubs which can provide browse, shelter or nesting habitat for various beasties in the neighborhood. This Garden for Wildlife Month & the accompanying Love a Tree Day is right up our alley (or corral, rather). 

So, what shall we do today, this inaugural venture into Loving-Trees-This-Day? I think we'll go feed all our ratty weed trees 'cause they're all we've got. We can even give them a hug for all the colour, shade & aegis from goatsheads (along with crappy seeds, runners & falling limbs) they give us... every one of our mangy, scrubby, Western "Trees to Reconsider." We love them all the same. 

Our largest Siberian Elm (Ulmus pumila)... too big to hug?

Spiritual Nomads Module IV: "Reinventing the Wheel"

"There’s no “right” or “wrong” way to move through the year, as long as it feeds you."  -- Dianne Sylvan

The main homework 'assignment' for week four of the Spiritual Nomads e-course was to examine your annual holidays & celebrations by starting with a blank slate (or blank circle, rather) & filling it in from scratch. I loved this exercise. Loved it. 

I had been meaning to reexamine the "Wheel of the Year" anyway, especially after my whole existential meltdown around Samhain. More importantly, as a gypsy snowbird with an eye towards bioregionalism, I find that the "traditional" wheel does not always work very well, particularly in the climes I inhabit. I worked on it with my husband, our effort comprised of part instinct, part reflection. This is the culmination of our work so far:

One Animist's Wheel of the Year.

The simplest way to discuss this will be to move from the centre outwards, moving clockwise around each circle, when appropriate.

I. The Core: The centre of the wheel shows our bioregions & the approximate portions of the year during which we reside in each. I never noticed this before, but this pictorial exercise reveals that our year is split very nearly by the Solstices; the waning half of the year in a boreal forests/coastal region of Alaska (I think it should be noted that this area is also urban), the waxing half of the year in a high desert region of Utah (this area is very isolated & rural). These two disparate sets of conditions shape our lives & are the building blocks for the most of the events on the outer wheels.

II. The Moon: (Esbats) The full moons are perhaps the most important for me, or maybe they are simply the most personal. My relationship with Lady Moon goes way back -- back to my childhood. So recognizing the ebb & flow of Her cycles remains a basic observance. However, do I have difficulty with the Esbats that fall after Midsummer in Alaska when the Sun remains in the sky most of the night. Recently, I have been considering using the window between the Summer Solstice & the Autumnal Equinox as a time to focus on Solar observances. 

III. Seasonal Events: These are the major, astronomical events that create the quarters. I stopped to consider if they were really actually important to me, to us as a family, or if maybe I was just clinging to the old wheel, but frankly, as an Earthling, they just make sense. We have been observing all of them as a family in one way or another, all along & for the most part, they played a part in my "days of yore" as well. For the Winter Solstice & Vernal Equinox we have well-developed family traditions. The Summer Solstice & Autumnal Equinox we prefer to share with our community in Alaska. (Especially the Summer Solstice which is an ever-developing, ever-growing weekend-long festival.)

*Season Names, (between the Esbat wheel & the Seasonal wheel) will be discussed in section V. Bioregional Influences/Events.

**The symbols for the Solstices & Equinoxes come from A Save The Universe Club (ASTUC), creators of this: A Bioregional Calendar (ABC). The purpose of the "ABC" is to provide "humanity with the ability to organize while encouraging autonomous cultural expression." Although I find the nomenclature of the calendar confusing, I am very attracted to its premise.

IV. Calendar Events: There are a handful of observances which are tied to the Gregorian calendar that we felt were important: birthdays, Thanksgiving & Lughnassadh. (Only our immediate family's birthdays are on this version. We did not include all the important birthdays because space was limited.) Lughnassadh is not exactly a carry-over from the "days of yore" because it has evolved & holds additional meanings for us. It is certainly remains a time to reflect on our harvest, but over the years of sharing this holiday together, it has come to represent the winding-down of Hubby's epic work season. It is a time when we celebrate the onset of a new part of the cycle, a time when he can slow down & we can spend time together as a family again. Lughnassadh is about creating a beautiful meal together & actually sharing it, or going to a park with a great ale & just enjoying the togetherness. 

V. Bioregional Influences/Events: The outer wheel. This is the rich & complex part where the natural world co-mingles with life & we find ourselves in a dance with the seasons. I begin at the Migration South which is followed by a brief rebalancing & the onset of our Season of Creativity & Production. During this window, little work is done outside the home except for volunteering, so there is much time for creativity, home improvement & preparedness. As time moves toward the Vernal Equinox, familiar signs of Spring emerge; my mother's hens resume laying, the cattle begin birthing, sleeping desert creatures begin to stir, etc. Passing the Equinox, signs of the waking Earth continue. Hubby must leave & the time for Planting & Preparing begins. During this time, the children & I tend to plants & prepare ourselves & our home for our departure.

After the Migration North, we have another period of rebalancing, coupled with the Summer Solstice which, in Alaska, is most decidedly a significant bioregional event. (All hail the Midnight Sun & then some!) The First Bolete is our symbol for the commencement of the Foraging Season. During this phase, we take our cues from the land & it's creatures most keenly. Fungi reign supreme in our hearts & minds while wild berries & salmon follow, a close second. Shortly after the Autumnal Equinox (typically) the arrival of the Termination Dust signals the beginning of a rapid shift into cold, darkness. This is a period of waiting, a time to Pause & Rest before gathering ourselves up & returning to our southern climes.

Final Considerations: I have been thinking about other celebrations & festivals that might be meaningful additions, but when I consider that Esbats alone make up thirteen events every year, it seems as though our year might already be adequately filled with revelry. However, I am attracted to the Chinese tradition of having a festival during the largest full moon of the year, I have a personal attachment to World Refugee Day (there is an explanation, but I don't want to elaborate here), I intend to look more carefully at the formal observances for specific deities & I have some interest in tracking astronomical events more closely. In the end, I believe there is room for adaptations & possibly further additions, but I will wait & take my cues from my Family, Community, Spirits & the Land.

DianneSylvan.com