12/13/18

I have been in love with vocabulary since I was a
small child. There was no food as delicious nor as
delectable as a glorious world crawling 'round my
tongue! I was most fortunate in that mine was a
family of reading . . . literature most sublime! We
were read to ever single evening. (Didn't get my
first TV until I had been married 10 years!) It wasn't
long before the nightly reading and sharing didn't
fill my soul; simply had to read on my own. I suppose,
looking back, it was rather an addiction. I went on
to be founder of the book a day club and was quite
delighted when my own children fell prey to the
addiction . . . I grew up in a delightful, bucolic setting
if we can call the outskirts of my small town that. My
family was impoverished and frankly, didn't possess
the wherewithal to constantly feed my appetite. Thank
God, as the result was a life-long love affair with the
local library. You know the contagion is arduous when
the librarians know you by your first name and you're
only a babe in the woods, as it were. Some books I
couldn't bear to return and I would re-new them as often
as allowed . . . from there I would simply cling to the
books and only return them a year later on free day.
Even now, I can recall the beleaguered looks on the face
of the lady at the desk when she realized she was letting
go of a keeper. I suppose the true epiphany for me was
realizing I could actually purchase my own faves and
never, ever have to return them. I remember keeping a
plethora of books on the floor by my bed because they
wouldn't fit on the night stand. Even now, my own adult
bedside, every comfy chair in the living room, noons and
crannies . . . all assailed by a pile or two. Last I counted,
my own library consisted of over 8,000 books . . .
classics, fiction and non fiction, religious, spiritual,
Pagan, children's, even cook books . . . me thinks there
is no cure. And, let me say this, the electronic device I
use to read in bed at night, simply isn't the same. It
lacks the feel, the scent, the essence of mystery when
cracking the spine . . . Lord help me!

out of heavens tomes
the gift of the written word
crawling round my brain

She was fascinated with words. To her, words were things of beauty, 
each like a magical powder or potion that could be combined with other 
words to create powerful spells. ~Dean Koontz

12/12/18

What is it about the gift of friendship that
continues to amaze day after day, decade
after decade?! I imagine this is on my mind
to some degree because December is a time
in which all of us are thinking about gifts . . .
both the giving and receiving. How priceless
is the gift of friendship. Here i am, nigh onto
70 years of age and it continues to amaze. One
might ask, "What have I ever done to receive
a gift of such enormity?! All I can say once again,
is how grateful I am to the gods for such a gift.
I would reiterate . . . I only pray I am worthy of
the gift of friendship. This gift always lurks near
but today it is on my mind because I have just
spent several hours with a couple of dear friends
who have once again left me speechless. I pray
that as we choose the presents we wish to share
at Yuletide and Christmas Even, that friendship
be the gift of highest priority. Sweet chocolates,
delectable wine, the finest port . . . all fun pressies
but not long lasting. Friendship, on the other hand,
reigns eternal . . . may we continue to share it.

fun yuletide presents
longing to open and share
let it be friendship

12/11/18

So, what is mother trying to tell me? I've made
an effort to talk to her at least once a week. I
made a promise that I would do so and mostly
I have kept it. But, it's only been recently that
she is appearing regularly in my dreams. Last
night I dreamt that my friend and her mother,
along with my mom, came to visit here at the
cabin. It was all very pleasant, amicable even.
Still, I don't get it. I would say she was in her
70's . . . not much older than me . . . still spry
and quite chatty. There we sat, the four of us,
the two elders and the two olders, if you will.
In deference to the olders, I served tea rather
than wine, although my mother would have a
glass from time to time. The two old gals sat
in my comfy chairs and we sat in a couple of
wooden chairs. It was odd in that my friend
lives in New York, our moms have passed,
we live in this tiny, 120 year old cabin, but in
my dream, we coalesced into a perfect state
of dreamscape. I want to know, nay, I NEED
to know, WHY? What was that all about?
Were they just checking in? Did they want
to know how we were? Did they need us to
know that they were fine? There didn't appear
to be any great message . . . but I somehow
felt bereft upon awaking. You can bet she's
in my thoughts now . . . and I impatiently
await the message . . . what can it be?

alas i await
lets not beat around the bush
tis me needs to know

p.s. I recall perfectly before my own father's
passing that he used to tell me he'd inexplicably
been missing his mother. She would come to
him in dreams and they would talk. He left us
not long after . . . rather scares the bejesus out
of me . . .

I think your dream tells you that you have received what you were asking for.  When we spoke you told me about the difficult experiences, feelings, interactions of caring for your mother through her illness/passage time.  You were looking for ways to let go of the pain and shame around it.

Then you wrote a lot about what is of value to you.  Like a Winter Magic gift list.  What happened in your dream sounds like it sums up your gift list.  Beautiful warm connection with friends, family --- easeful and both ordinary and wonderful.

So she shows up and has a lovely visit with you.  What better way to know that what you did was accepted and did what it needed to do?  (Maybe mom read your Christmas/Solstice/Light gift list and gave you your gift in the form of this dream?  "Oh, this is what you want?!  Oh, you want to let go of those old painful memories and emotions?  Here, have this!")  Beautifully done Magnificent Manifest-ess of self-healing!

Peace! Love! Appreciation! Rebeccah

p.s.  I love the way you invite opinion and then discern what is your very own sacred truth.  Thank you for the invitations and acknowledgements. ~Rebeccah White 

 - - -

Dreams come out on their own schedule. I see them as clarifying past mystories. ~Kathleen Ford

12/10/12

I imagine December brings about all sorts of
memories, feelings, sentiments known to man.
Watching the news this morning, something
I should NEVER do, photographs and comments
surrounding the infamous 'wall' appeared. 'Tis a
topic which encourages the old head in the sand
trick. There are truths that simply do not bear
thinking about and this is one of them. I don't
know where to go with this. I don't understand
how this has happened or what I personally can
do about it. I only know that tear stained faces
of the children and parents, the horrors of stories
shared and even worse imagined, keep me awake
at night. I offer no answers, only questions. I
remember how graciously I was accepted into the
Mexican culture, living there happily for 20 years.
I understand the concept of overpopulation. I get
that we took this land from the Native Americans,
fought for it, claimed it and proceeded to build
'walls' around it to protect it from various and sundry.
I know! I know!! I know!!! But still my heart
breaks for those families apart, children crying
themselves to sleep . . . praying that when they
awake the nightmare be over. All I want for
Christmas is NOT peace on earth . . . I want for
the sorrow at the border to somehow END! I
want it to be over, resolved, taken care of. I long
to die knowing that families are reunited and
hearts are healed. I pray . . . Santa Claus, God,
Gods and Goddesses, Higher Powers . . . please,
oh please reunite these families. This is sooooo
not the world I signed up to live in . . .

hearts beyond broken
tears dried up sahara waits
no room in heaven

12/09/18

Pondering pressies . . . truly I have been
thinking of little else since turning to the
last calendar page. God, I so love December!
I'm truly not the rush out to Walmart and 
buy x-mas presents kind of gal! I really
enjoy thinking outside the box when it comes
to gifts . . . and I really, really, really love
presents. I like gifts for every occasion and
in reality, I don't even need a reason. I know
that I make my friends uncomfortable; too
bad . . . not likely I'll change this late in the
day. I like sharing dupes; one really doesn't
need two of everything. Although I'm not
craftsy, I love making my own spice blends,
a few oils, even certain ash creations. This
year, I intend to share heirlooms from my
own store collected over the years,  a kind
of passing on the memories, if you will. But,
perhaps, most of all, I enjoy cooking for those
I love, opening a bottle (or two) of wine, telling
tales out of school . . . souls sharing moments
of love and friendship. If you know me, if you
love me, come on by . . . I'll cook for you . . .

celebrating us
our gifts of friendships untold
seasons and reasons

12/08/18

One of the things I simply love about December
is reconnecting. Reconnection has so many facets;
Christmas cards, Yule tidings, visits, parties and
getting together for lunch. Not to forget that
sometimes we are even moved to write long
overdue letters. I come to feel such an overflowing
of love, kindness, joy; I am simply sated! Last night
was a case in point; a couple from our area came
over for mole, a Mexican dish I tend to do during
the holidays. We are going through those delightful
steps of friendship . . . finding each other, getting
acquainted, enjoying each other's company and
trying new things on for size. So, I ask myself,
why do we have to wait until the holidays to make
this kind of thing happen? Obviously, we go out to
lunch, see friends, have the odd party throughout
the year . . . but it's December when we are so
moved to go the extra mile. If I am granted the
gift of 2019, I'm going to strive to bring a little bit
of December into each of the months. Me thinks
'twould be fun to see where that takes me.

tis holiday cheer
so loving celebrations
a gift of the gods

12/07/18

Yesterday afternoon I spent some time cooking
with a dear friend. The entire experience was so
enjoyable that I was reminded of the different
gifts food brings. Obviously, there is the gift of
anticipation. It's quite delicious thinking about a
friend coming over and all the fun you're going
to have preparing a meal. Yet, another part of the
anticipation, is the actual planning the cooking
and acquiring and amassing the ingredients. I
love all the parts of it; the foods laid out, seeing
what you forgot and getting it together, pots
and pans to go with the different parts of the
meal. Then begins the cutting, chopping, stir
frying, adding in the bits and pieces, along with
the tasting. I love the tasting . . . the textures
rolling around your tongue, gifting delectable
flavors and memories as you bring the meal to
fruition. And, I simply can't decide which is the
best part, the cooking together or the savoring
of the meal once it's finished. I love eating out;
there are many delightful components to that as
well . . . but, I'm not sure it ever compares to
the turning of your own kitchen into that magical,
alchemical kingdom of scents and sights, mess
and chaos . . . the pure magic of a meal shared.
a food for the gods
tis a taste of paradise
a sharing bar none

12/06/18

What is it about the past that both inspires and
haunts us? As we have spent 2018 moving from
my mountain residence into this tiny 120 year old
cabin, 'tis the question I have been pondering.
I've been adamant about keeping everything
to time and place as correct as possible. I feel
beyond fortunate that so many artifacts from my
grand parents and great grandparents have found
their way to me. When I find myself holding a
wineglass my grandmother may have hoisted in
days of yesteryear, I am transported. I caress
grandfather's pipe, dust a frame from WW I, take
a bite of pie from an age old silver spoon and I
am humbled. My ancestors, my very own elders,
fought the wars, smoked the pipes, ate on the
hand painted plates and rocked in that special
chair. I still think of myself as that little girl, the
young wife and mother, that inspired teacher, a
mover and shaker of my era . . . and here I am,
nigh onto 70 years of age. When did this happen?
Will my children raise grandmother's crystal to
me when I pass? Will my grandsons rock in great
grandmother's chair? Will my unborn great grand
children break the china? Alas, I do not belong to
these new ways and days of chrome and plastic . . .
Me thinks my soul is very well suited to my sweet,
old, ancient cabin. If only the walls could talk . . .

bygone memories
sepia tone phogotraphs
ages colliding

12/05/18

As I approach nigh onto 70 years on this planet
I realize a kind of letting go needs to happen in
the arena of one's own hopes and dreams. It is
important NOT to embrace this concept as a giving
up, but rather an acknowledgement of the rational.
For example, I will never bear another child, but
I thrill in my own children and friends of their age.
I won't return to teaching at my high school, but I
much enjoy teaching small classes in Paganism at
my cabin. I can remember my mother telling me
to watch my language. Alas, now it's me . . .
reminding myself to be positive, let go of the
negative and strive for all that is within my reach.
And I intend to do exactly that! I'm going to let
go of the negative, the impossible, the unreachable
and embrace my children, my friends, my man
and whatever is left of this life that the gods have
granted me!

time to say goodbye
letting go of yesteryear
hello tomorrow

12/04/18

As I have pondered the topic, I realize I don't 

seem to have any issue with letting go of what 

I would consider offenses against me. I seem 

to understand that these things happen, I try 

not to take them personally and I let them go.

My issue seems to be not being able to let go 

of my own shortcomings, especially when they 

affect how I feel about myself. The usual sins, 

as I seem to perceive them . . . too much to drink, 

raising my voice to my mate, overeating,

being a bit impatient with someone who means 

a great deal to me . . . all seem unforgivable to 

me on some level. My man often says to me, 

"Don't be so hard on yourself!" I love that! I am

impressed that he gets it . . . now if only I would 

get it as well! Bottom line, once the problem is 

identified, it needs to be dealt with. Let's see how

that works out!

forgiving myself

others yes but no way me

out of the question

12/03/18

I imagine we've all heard the old adage, "Timing is everything."
I know it, I've known it all my life, but somehow I didn't know it,
know it! I've been talking about letting go for several years and
yet here I am, only now finally, truly ready to address the issue.
Me thinks I needed a swift kick to the backside to jumpstart my
own procrastination. Yesterday, I embraced the subject via FB
and had some interesting insights shared. Strangely enough,
one that most impressed me came from Face Book itself . . .

"I refuse to go back to the old me. I
am becoming a much better person by
using my past experiences as lessons."
Attitude to Inspiration

Needless to say, if you're watching for it, wisdom can be found
most anywhere. So, consider me watchful because I intend to
find the wisdom to let go anywhere and everywhere I can!

letting go at last
a true lesson in timing
finally ready

12/02/18

Letting go is an art I never learned. I've never
understood the actual physical process. I get
that it's important, needed, required for personal
growth. But, I simply don't know how. Here I am,
nigh onto seventy years of age (When and how did
that happen?!), and I still don't get it. I shared this
with a friend yesterday. She suggested that since
I didn't comprehend letting go, perhaps I could
transform the essence of what I needed to discard.
She intimated that transformation is actually another
side to letting go and my mind might be able to cope
with it better. Her insights sparked yet another idea.
If you have found a clearer understanding of this
concept and are comfortable with the idea of sharing
your thoughts, please do so here . . .

so need to let go
somehow i don't understand
lead me by the hand

12/01/18

December, welcome! We've been waiting eleven
months for you to arrive . . . and yeah, I'll admit
it . . . sometimes I read the end of mysteries first
so I don't have to be nervous the entire book! So,
December . . . decorate the tree, mail the x-mas
cards, wrap and hide the pressies, start thinking
about the menu, forgive and forget . . . so many
things to get done before the day actually arrives!
And not to forget, but are you a Christmas Eve kind
of person or are you the actual, wait until Christmas
morning, type? You'll laugh, but I solved that little
problem by celebrating Yule instead . . . December
21st, first day of winter. So, what is Yule exactly?
Yes, I know, we grew up hearing the terms Yule
and Yuletide greetings, and some even used them
interchangeably with Christmas and other sundry
phrases. Yule is actually one of the eight Pagan
holidays, you know . . . along with the first days of
spring, summer and fall, May day and Halloween?!
So, whichever be your persuasion, Merry Christmas,
Happy Hanukkah, Sweet Saturnalia and Yule tidings
of great joy to you! Bottom line . . . long live December!

holidays await
so love me some december
wheres the mistletoe

12/01/18

Smiling as I read this, for its own sweet sake, and also because it got me thinking about my own "big day".  It's the Christmas Bird Count, always on the third Saturday in December, and the one day all winter when I have visitors. This will be my 30th. It begins around 4:00 a.m. when I wrap myself in a warm blanket and sit outside for two frigid hours listening for owls (three species last year). Then I shower and put out plates of food and people begin to arrive around 7:30 - the count leader always with a jar of local honey for me. We spend the morning tooling around our designated circle in search of birds, sometimes in sub-zero temperatures, then return to the house where lunch and cordials await by the wood stove. Once we're warm and sated, we depart for another area a few miles away and race to beat the setting sun. We return to the wood stove to make sure that we've counted all the birds (24 species is a respectable count), and to retell of the ones that surprised us (one year 100 Bohemian Waxwings eating juniper berries). The tally will be delivered at a chili dinner where competitive birders drip with jealousy, disbelief or disappointment. All this feeds into over 100 years of records that are painting a stark picture of how climate change is affecting birds. Other than that, it's a wonderful celebration of nature with good food and old friends...what more could a person ask for?

~Audrey Boag