Sleepy Thoughts

Sleepy thoughts.

O’ rest thine eyes and tired head.
May slumber touch your heart strings
and such put you into the land of dreams-
Comfy and in your bed.



Preserving Pagan Papers

I am a solitary witch so if there were more covens being inclusive or at least progressive, then perhaps more would be preserved?
Who knows.



One of the themes at this year’s Sacred Space conference turned out to be legacy. We are now losing many of our Pagan elders at a rapid pace. A new generation of cradle Pagans and of Pagans who came to these religions, not through secret initiations or the occasional book found in some long-since-closed occult book store, but through the internet, tv, or their out Pagan friends are coming into their own.

What will our elders leave behind for this new generation?

Several years ago, at another Sacred Space conference, John Michael Greer talked about his work to preserve the (often) typewritten and/or mimeographed papers of 1950s, ’60s, and 70s Pagan groups: boxes left to moulder in someone’s basement, files saved at the last minute from non-Pagan relatives who had no idea that they were about to throw out, for example, the last remaining set of instructions for a…

View original post 429 more words

Beauty Standards Are Bullshit

Pretty much sizing and beauty are total bullshit.

The Belle Jar

You’ve probably heard that Marilyn Monroe was a size 14.

Or a size 16, or a size 12, or a size 10, depending on who you ask.

Whatever number someone quotes you, the message is always the same: our standards of beauty have changed, and not for the better. The women whose bodies we worship now are thin and sickly, all of them suffering from eating disorders. Things aren’t how they were before, when we appreciated “real,” “normal,” “average” bodies. Our current standards of beauty should serve as evidence of how deeply fucked up our society is; we ought to return to our parents’ and grandparents’ ideals.

This whole concept is so popular that there have been a string of memes made about it:




You know what makes me say fuck society? The fact that we think it’s totally cool to compare two women and declare one of them the…

View original post 853 more words

I am a Tree

I am a tree.
In a pot, I would be Bonsai-taking shape to what hand had guided me into some preconceived shape and form. My roots restricting how much growth I could contemplate within the confines of my container. No web of microbes to communicate with others of my kind. Its lonely. Such too is the life of a city tree.

I am a tree.
Clinging to rocks, I am worn down by the forces of nature-the same nature that I am an integral part of. I cling to dear life and greedily accept whatever nutrients trickle into my possession. I manage, but those forces contort and distort me from resembling any other tree of the same kind.

I am a tree.
In a field solitary, my branches fill all sides that light may shine. I have no competition for my dominion. I grow rigid and upright. My companions are the animals that lay beneath my branches for shade and land in them for safety. I have no companions of my own kind. No forest to hid my accomplishments of greatness….and solitude.

I am a tree.
In a grove, my roots overlap my fellow trees. We look similar and somehow unique. We have less branches on our sides because we share this space, no bold majestic solitary trees here. We absorb sound with our numbers such that it buffers out the noise of destructive forces.
-it is here you can hear us whisper to one another.
We have friends.

I am, a tree.


They Don’t Build Them Like They Used To!


So I get a Victor VV-50 across my desk today.

Img00032938 Img00032939

Since I used to fix motorcycles for my parents shop when I was 15, and that whole stint in the army as an AH-64 Apache Attack Helicopter Weapons Systems Repairer, I was confident I could make her sing.

And she did.

I haven’t heard this music produced except in old movies, but it was amazing. The record is roughly from the same period as the device and so it was like a time machine moment.