Ostara

March 20 is the 2010 Spring Equinox. On this day there will be equal hours of light and dark, day and night. It is a changing of the seasons, the cold, bland days of winter are over and life is being renewed before our eyes. In ancient times, this day was known as Ostara, named after the pagan goddess Eostre. This holiday is a celebration of rebirth and new life. Wiccans and Pagans today still celebrate and revere this day with rituals and offerings to the Mother Goddess and their patron diety. Life begins again, and the light grows stronger and reaches toward Litha (Summer Solstice) with fervent ardor. Happy Ostara! Blessed be.

Witch's Brew: Macbeth Allusion

Yesterday, I was reading one of my favorite books called The Secret Circle. As I was reading, I came across an allusion that I'd never noticed before. Cassie (the protagonist), upon meeting her grandmother for the first time, makes some very interesting judgements about the old woman. Her grandmother is not a stereotypical cushy, cuddly grandmother. This one walks with a cane, has a hump, has untidy coarse hair, and a giant mole. "Cassie kept half expecting her to go over to te iron pot and stir it while muttering, 'Double, double, toil, and trouble...'"(Smith 56)
When I read this part, I actually started laughing out loud becuase it was so ironic. It's ironic becuase The Secret Circle is about a secret coven of witches, but at this point in the book, Cassie hasn't learned this yet. It's kind of like, duh she looks like a witch becuase she is one!
Anyway, that was my allusion.

Missing Home

Pictures may be worth a thousand words, but
memories are worth a million.
As the rain falls softly on desperate life,
I think of elsewhere, land of heart but
not of birth.
When the wind brings me the scent
of dampened earth,
I shiver in rememberance of
the power that stole me.
The magic that soothed me, the
caress that healed me.
The ageless hills and the misty ruins,
forever before my minds eye, coaxing
the dull ache from the depths of
memory.
The love that enveloped me, the
fairy touch that drew the words from
my stubborn pen.
The history whispered belonging.
The smell of the rain and the embrace
of the wind bring tears to my eyes.
A part of me is missing,
a part of me left behind.
Home.

The World is Black, the World is White

RACISM: N. a belief or doctrine that inherent differences among the various human races determine cultural or individual achievement,usually involving the idea that one's own race is superior and has the right to rule others.

Every day I hear someone say the word RACIST. Every five minutes, it seems, I hear someone else say "Ohhh, that's racist" or "god, you're so racist!"

With America's history, what with slavery and then the racial turmoil of the 1960s, Americans are as wary of racism as they are of swine flu ;). Now, Racism is wrong, but there is a difference between intended cruelty and innocent observation. If they actually catalogued all of their thoughts in a day, those people who slam everyone for being "racist" would find that a good portion of their thoughts could be considered "racist" by other paranoid analysts. Simple observations or innocent ponderings are completely misconstrued in this "tiptoe through the tulips" age. Nobody should ever discriminate by race because it's pure cruelty, but people need to lighten up a bit and stop nit-picking every phrase that comes out of people's mouths

The Point of Pointlessness

I would like to point out that making points is absolutely pointless when none of them turn around and point you in the right direction. Those points which we've sought at for years materialize before us and point disgustedly at our simple-minded frailties in a word dispersing our mirages clarifying for our neighbors our true beings. An yet with pointed glances and poignant phrases we still make those points which are utterly pointless and refuse to point us anywhere and with pointed shafts crucify us for all the pointedly ignorant world to see.

The Poet's Lament

Upon the paper the weary man’s eyes were fixed, pen poised above the surface, prepared to skate gracefully across the new page. A single tear wafted slowly to his lips, its sisters hovering gently on soft lashes. Pen to paper he did lay, flying across the leaf on wings of ink.

Here me now, o precious son of Adam, o blessed daughter of Eve. The tribe that long ago rejuvenated this land has all but disappeared to naught. Hear me now, o brother of the earth, o sister of the sea. Our jewels brought life unto the people, lifting them on clouds of bliss and wrapping them in shadows of tomorrow. Leave me now, o father of the wind, o mother of the fiery souls. For only the others of my dying race understand the inner torment of an unshared rhyme. Only they know the life and death given in slavery to the written word. The blood of the soul spread in rhythmic meter for all the world to see. With each recurring heart beat, a mind goes blank; with each intake of breath, this earth loses a maker. Goodbye o beautiful realm of verse and thought, goodbye my lady land.

And here his hand sat resting, an end put to his work. And here his eyes sat reading; his thoughts now come to life. He sighed and set his pen down upon his oaken shelf, and turned never to look again. And there the ink and tears alike, dried by the whisper of a memory.

Global Shame

When I was in Europe, I experienced first hand the globalization that we discussed in Human Geography two weeks ago. For an American visiting foreign countries it was rather embarrassing to see so many American companies influencing the cultures and everyday lives of those other countries. I knew that McDonald's was an international company, but it was still amazing, in an unfortunate way, to see so many of them. However, the most blush-worthy example of globalization that I saw was a GameStop in a small town in rural Ireland. When I saw it I simply stared becuase I couldn't believe my eyes. I can't believe how far the tentacles of American capitalism reach. I was rather looking forward to visiting Paris, the fashion capital of the world, so that I could see all the different French styles and not have to look at Abercrombie, Hollister, Aeropostle, etc. I was rather disappointed when I saw people wearing Hollister sweatshirts and Abercrombie t-shirts. It was embarrassing! Why should other countries have to deal with such blatant expressions of American egotism?