I am in the process of writing my second book. I have written some chapters and I have outlined others. I have found some sections extremely easy to write about and others I have struggled with. There are parts that were touched on in my previous book and I don’t want to just have a reprint of those parts with perhaps the odd changed word or phrase, but I’m not sure how to restructure it without losing anything. I have spent a lot of time up to the eyebrows in other people’s books. Doing research, looking for validations for my opinions - something to back up a point I’m making or a slightly different way of looking at it that will enable me to make it clearer. Even refutations of my opinions are welcomed.
It has been quite a learning process. In my head, when I started to write this book, I knew all I needed to know. I was sharing the wisdom I’ve accumulated over the years with those who have less experience. I was arrogantly assuming that there was little to nothing of substance left for me to learn in this field.
I pored over several books and ancient texts. I found what I wanted to find, I had a couple of small surprises and I didn’t find what I hadn’t really expected to find. I remember my excitement (and smug self-satisfaction) when one scholarly work verified and validated a conclusion I’d drawn on my own.
Lately though, reading through the last couple of books and concepts I’ve come to a realisation. That through this research and writing process I am actually learning more. There are concepts that I’ve had a faint grasp on, a shallow intellectual understanding of that I now get at a far deeper level. I’ve had my “aha!” moments, I have found my somethings to back up a point I’m making in a different way and different ways of looking at things that will enable me to make it clearer. I just didn’t expect that the way they made these things clearer was for me to understand them better. For the deeper meanings to sink in and make my surface knowledge something deeper and truer.
There are components of ritual that our group always did. We always did them because our High Priestess had always done them in her previous group. They were never explained to us with whys or deeper meanings and to be honest, I’m sure that if she’d known them they would have been explained as often and clearly as possible. I could explain why we did them. I could give you a perfectly reasonable understanding of the function and necessity of these things. But it has been while reading the book I’m currently in the midst of that a better understanding of some of these components has occurred for me. It’s also fascinating for me that even with my imperfect understanding, I still had made the choices to include or not these actions in various rituals I’ve led correct.
I saw a quote recently. It says:
We Learn…
10% of what we read
20% of what we hear
30% of what we see
50% of what we see and hear
70% of what we discuss
80% of what we experience
95% of what we teach to others
- William Glasser
In writing a book, I’m teaching to others. I’m learning more about these concepts that that I thought I understood. I’m understanding them better by finding my own words to explain each concept. In some ways, I feel almost as though I’m writing this book for me, not for anyone else.
Blessings
Debbie
Tuesday, 1 July 2014
Monday, 30 June 2014
Balance
Negativity is Bad
Oh no. We don’t want or can’t have your negativity here. It’s bringing us all down. It’s something to be ashamed of donchaknow.
Memes and quotes and exercises abound, filling your awareness constantly with their messages about removing negativity from your life, surroundings and consciousness. Lightworkers and Spiritual Coaches lecture you on focusing purely on the positives and letting go of all that is negative.
Cancer is negative. I let go of all cancer. I no longer acknowledge it’s existence or it’s power to harm those I love. Cancer has no power over me.
Do you think that worked? Can I now think positive and choose to never have another Cervical smear or mammogram because that would be inviting negativity back in?
Negativity
It’s a word that you’ll hear a lot in Pagan circles. What does it mean?
There seems to be a number of ways it gets used:
Negativity has become a cliched catch-phrase that is supposed to make you feel bad for displaying anything other than bouncy nauseating optimism and positivity. Even neutral things now come under the heading of negativity.
Most recently I was called negative for giving my reasons for disliking and not recommending the works of a certain author. Apparently it is bad of me to think that advising a teenager to be dishonest with their parents is wrong. I questioned a blanket statement “witchcraft teaches us that we can’t do magic for personal gain”. Questioning this person and asking him to back his assertions allegedly qualifies as negative banter.
I find this most fascinating in magical circles. Especially those circles where the way magic works is described using electricity as an analogy. Magic is just like electricity apparently.
I also inform all clients that magic is like electricity. It is energy that feeds off other other energy (the intent of the Enchantment & how well you follow my instructions on following through with prayers and/or meditations after the Enchantment is completed).
In some ways, magic is like electricity. It can flow from one source to another.
Magic is like electricity; if you do not give electricity a specific way in which to travel it will fit [sic] the quickest route to ground itself, which usually ends up with someone being frazzled.
Magic is like electricity, it will choose the method which is both direct and energy efficient. Therefore a bolt of lightening would be quite energy inefficient, when a spell is cast. It would be more likely that it would be an energy packet (quantum energy) which would interact with the environment on a quantum level, hence no balls of fire.
Magic is like electricity--it has a purpose but can't do everything.
Psionics use the inner strength of a person to operate and like any other physical exercise can and will tire a person out. Magic, however, does not draw on a person's essence to operate. Magic is like electricity, it is power and people are the shapers and users of such energy.
Never mind all the ones that go into dark or light purposes… Well, sticking with the electricity analogy.
I’m sure that at some stage in school we’ve all done that little exercise where you make a small circuit with a battery, some wire and a light bulb. Now picture that battery in your mind. Do you remember how it has two terminals on it? Two opposing poles? How are they labelled? Yeah, positive and negative. What happens if you only attach the positive terminal to your circuit and not the negative?
In magic, there is no difference. Your lightbulb won’t glow if the source isn’t balanced, that is if the connection to both poles isn't present.
I think some of this phenomenon has come from a misunderstanding.
Positivity and Negativity
Affirmations leap to mind for me as my next and best example. Affirmations allow us to change our reality, to improve ourselves and the world around us.
Affirmations must always be positive.
Now this doesn't mean that they must be filled with childlike optimism and naive choices to ignore reality. It means that you can't use negative words in your affirmation. Not bad words, negative words - "not", "don't" and so forth. The reason for this is that your brain doesn't really hear them - it filters out many of the filler words. If you were to make "I will not get sick" as your affirmation, your brain will hear "will get sick" and filter out the rest. This is why your phrasing must be positive - "I will be healthy and well".
When you're phrasing a magical intent, the same rules apply. "Only happy thoughts shall enter" is better than "sadness is not allowed". You can have things that are thought of as negative "I will take my vengeance" (yes, it's melodramatic but it's fun) and it's still a positive phrasing of intent.
The negative is seen as the bad things. The things we don't like about ourselves. Some traditions refer to these things as Shadows rather than negatives. Your Shadow side is still a part of you. Denying it's existence or pretending that it's not there or that you can be rid of it is as silly as trying to cut off your actual shadow on a sunny day. Are you Peter Pan?
If you are frightened of or threatened by your shadow side, then it has power over you. It becomes a driving force and isn't that the opposite of what you're trying to do?
I've done readings for people who've been freaking out over something they perceive as negative or bad. I recall one lady whose husband had died about six months earlier. She had been told it was time for her to be moving on with her life and letting it go. I told her it was okay for her to be mad at him, it was okay for her to be still mourning him. It didn't make her bad, it made her human. It had been eating her up so much that she was so grateful for that one sentence. She'd almost been making herself ill with the idea that it was negative, bad or wrong for her to be still sad, mad and caught up in her husband of forty years.
Turning Wheels
Why is it that we can accept that night follows day and will pass at sunrise tomorrow. We can accept that Spring and Summer follow Winter. The darkness and the light follow each other in these cycles and it's natural. We accept that these darknesses are essential and temporary, but when we face our own darknesses it is something wrong, it is to be feared, treated and medicated?
I know I can't change the world. I know I can't beat everyone around until they grasp this concept. I can only try to reach those who are willing to listen.
Blessings
Debbie
Oh no. We don’t want or can’t have your negativity here. It’s bringing us all down. It’s something to be ashamed of donchaknow.
Memes and quotes and exercises abound, filling your awareness constantly with their messages about removing negativity from your life, surroundings and consciousness. Lightworkers and Spiritual Coaches lecture you on focusing purely on the positives and letting go of all that is negative.
Cancer is negative. I let go of all cancer. I no longer acknowledge it’s existence or it’s power to harm those I love. Cancer has no power over me.
Do you think that worked? Can I now think positive and choose to never have another Cervical smear or mammogram because that would be inviting negativity back in?
Negativity
It’s a word that you’ll hear a lot in Pagan circles. What does it mean?
There seems to be a number of ways it gets used:
- Anything perceived as bad or evil
- Anything that makes you feel challenged or uncomfortable
- Any time someone disagrees with you
- Anything that takes away from your self-esteem (deserved or not)
- A buzzkill
- An expectation or projection of judgment or criticism (again deserved or not)
- Worrying or concern
Negativity has become a cliched catch-phrase that is supposed to make you feel bad for displaying anything other than bouncy nauseating optimism and positivity. Even neutral things now come under the heading of negativity.
Most recently I was called negative for giving my reasons for disliking and not recommending the works of a certain author. Apparently it is bad of me to think that advising a teenager to be dishonest with their parents is wrong. I questioned a blanket statement “witchcraft teaches us that we can’t do magic for personal gain”. Questioning this person and asking him to back his assertions allegedly qualifies as negative banter.
I find this most fascinating in magical circles. Especially those circles where the way magic works is described using electricity as an analogy. Magic is just like electricity apparently.
I also inform all clients that magic is like electricity. It is energy that feeds off other other energy (the intent of the Enchantment & how well you follow my instructions on following through with prayers and/or meditations after the Enchantment is completed).
In some ways, magic is like electricity. It can flow from one source to another.
Magic is like electricity; if you do not give electricity a specific way in which to travel it will fit [sic] the quickest route to ground itself, which usually ends up with someone being frazzled.
Magic is like electricity, it will choose the method which is both direct and energy efficient. Therefore a bolt of lightening would be quite energy inefficient, when a spell is cast. It would be more likely that it would be an energy packet (quantum energy) which would interact with the environment on a quantum level, hence no balls of fire.
Magic is like electricity--it has a purpose but can't do everything.
Psionics use the inner strength of a person to operate and like any other physical exercise can and will tire a person out. Magic, however, does not draw on a person's essence to operate. Magic is like electricity, it is power and people are the shapers and users of such energy.
Never mind all the ones that go into dark or light purposes… Well, sticking with the electricity analogy.
I’m sure that at some stage in school we’ve all done that little exercise where you make a small circuit with a battery, some wire and a light bulb. Now picture that battery in your mind. Do you remember how it has two terminals on it? Two opposing poles? How are they labelled? Yeah, positive and negative. What happens if you only attach the positive terminal to your circuit and not the negative?
In magic, there is no difference. Your lightbulb won’t glow if the source isn’t balanced, that is if the connection to both poles isn't present.
I think some of this phenomenon has come from a misunderstanding.
Positivity and Negativity
Affirmations leap to mind for me as my next and best example. Affirmations allow us to change our reality, to improve ourselves and the world around us.
Affirmations must always be positive.
Now this doesn't mean that they must be filled with childlike optimism and naive choices to ignore reality. It means that you can't use negative words in your affirmation. Not bad words, negative words - "not", "don't" and so forth. The reason for this is that your brain doesn't really hear them - it filters out many of the filler words. If you were to make "I will not get sick" as your affirmation, your brain will hear "will get sick" and filter out the rest. This is why your phrasing must be positive - "I will be healthy and well".
When you're phrasing a magical intent, the same rules apply. "Only happy thoughts shall enter" is better than "sadness is not allowed". You can have things that are thought of as negative "I will take my vengeance" (yes, it's melodramatic but it's fun) and it's still a positive phrasing of intent.
The negative is seen as the bad things. The things we don't like about ourselves. Some traditions refer to these things as Shadows rather than negatives. Your Shadow side is still a part of you. Denying it's existence or pretending that it's not there or that you can be rid of it is as silly as trying to cut off your actual shadow on a sunny day. Are you Peter Pan?
If you are frightened of or threatened by your shadow side, then it has power over you. It becomes a driving force and isn't that the opposite of what you're trying to do?
I've done readings for people who've been freaking out over something they perceive as negative or bad. I recall one lady whose husband had died about six months earlier. She had been told it was time for her to be moving on with her life and letting it go. I told her it was okay for her to be mad at him, it was okay for her to be still mourning him. It didn't make her bad, it made her human. It had been eating her up so much that she was so grateful for that one sentence. She'd almost been making herself ill with the idea that it was negative, bad or wrong for her to be still sad, mad and caught up in her husband of forty years.
Turning Wheels
Why is it that we can accept that night follows day and will pass at sunrise tomorrow. We can accept that Spring and Summer follow Winter. The darkness and the light follow each other in these cycles and it's natural. We accept that these darknesses are essential and temporary, but when we face our own darknesses it is something wrong, it is to be feared, treated and medicated?
I know I can't change the world. I know I can't beat everyone around until they grasp this concept. I can only try to reach those who are willing to listen.
Blessings
Debbie
Monday, 23 June 2014
Winter Solstice Musings
Saturday was the Winter Solstice. I had planned my usual solstice party. I'd even chosen to open it up and put it out there in a couple of local internet pagan groups. Especially as one of those groups contained a couple of people living not too far away, who had complained about being unable to find anything in their area.
I had several maybes. I had several "Oh yes, we'll definitely be there". I had a few nos, but thanks for asking.
I planned and wrote a ritual. It was quite a deep and transformative ritual while being terribly simple. One of those things that sinks in later, days or weeks later. It was about recognising that darkness happens and light follows in endless cycles. We know and accept this in our night and day. We know and accept this in our yearly seasons. But we don't seem to know or accept this in ourselves. The dark times are something wrong that needs treating. Or sometimes it just needs a little of someone else's light to remind us that the light is still there. The ritual also contained being able to say something nice about yourself. Something positive, something you are proud of. Without any embarrassment, without comparisons (well, you should have seen me last year or you should see my sisters), without any projections (she just said she was smart, thinks she's smarter than us) and without any justifications. To just be able to stand forward and say "I am smart, I am funny, I am strong" whatever it was that you are and to have that be supported by everyone else. It was a phenomenal ritual.
It's just a shame that we never did it.
I've spent the last couple of years struggling with ritual. Doing battle with ritual. Ritual has almost grown into a larger than life nemesis for me. No, I take that back, I can do ritual fine when it's someone else's ritual. I can take a role and do that fine. I can judge their rituals in the armchair comfort of my own head and pull apart what I would have done differently (and therefore better of course) and what worked for me. What I am doing battle with is leading ritual for others.
I thought that by telling enough people that I was planning one, I'd be able to force myself into actually taking that step and doing it.
Now I have all sorts of justifications and reasons rolling around in my head as to why I didn't do it.
All of this is true and none of it is - all at the same time.
I did still love the gathering. I loved the mix of people and feel glad that some new people came along, as well as some people from many years ago. I enjoy the pot luck dinner. I enjoy sitting outside around our bonfire on the longest darkest night of the year. Having one side toasty warm and the other feeling the cold. I love that we get a different mix of people every year but don't seem to have any dramas with them.
I also love the next morning. Sitting in the cold weak winter sunshine in my pyjamas with a cup of coffee and a great group of friends.
I am both grateful and a bit pissy that no one mentioned the lack of ritual.
Blessings
Debbie
I had several maybes. I had several "Oh yes, we'll definitely be there". I had a few nos, but thanks for asking.
I planned and wrote a ritual. It was quite a deep and transformative ritual while being terribly simple. One of those things that sinks in later, days or weeks later. It was about recognising that darkness happens and light follows in endless cycles. We know and accept this in our night and day. We know and accept this in our yearly seasons. But we don't seem to know or accept this in ourselves. The dark times are something wrong that needs treating. Or sometimes it just needs a little of someone else's light to remind us that the light is still there. The ritual also contained being able to say something nice about yourself. Something positive, something you are proud of. Without any embarrassment, without comparisons (well, you should have seen me last year or you should see my sisters), without any projections (she just said she was smart, thinks she's smarter than us) and without any justifications. To just be able to stand forward and say "I am smart, I am funny, I am strong" whatever it was that you are and to have that be supported by everyone else. It was a phenomenal ritual.
It's just a shame that we never did it.
I've spent the last couple of years struggling with ritual. Doing battle with ritual. Ritual has almost grown into a larger than life nemesis for me. No, I take that back, I can do ritual fine when it's someone else's ritual. I can take a role and do that fine. I can judge their rituals in the armchair comfort of my own head and pull apart what I would have done differently (and therefore better of course) and what worked for me. What I am doing battle with is leading ritual for others.
I thought that by telling enough people that I was planning one, I'd be able to force myself into actually taking that step and doing it.
Now I have all sorts of justifications and reasons rolling around in my head as to why I didn't do it.
- A lot of those 'maybes' and 'definitely be theres' bailed out and weren't there.
- I really didn't feel this ritual would be right or well received or taken seriously with the people who were present.
- I was disorganised and didn't give a clear start time so by the time I was ready for ritual, many others were drunk, going to sleep or heading home.
- I should have planned to do the ritual first and dinner stuff after.
- Sabbat celebrations are more about the gathering of people for me.
- I'd woken up that morning with a dreadful migraine and been taking medication all day to keep it at bay so I just felt tired and sore and brain full of fuzz.
All of this is true and none of it is - all at the same time.
I did still love the gathering. I loved the mix of people and feel glad that some new people came along, as well as some people from many years ago. I enjoy the pot luck dinner. I enjoy sitting outside around our bonfire on the longest darkest night of the year. Having one side toasty warm and the other feeling the cold. I love that we get a different mix of people every year but don't seem to have any dramas with them.
I also love the next morning. Sitting in the cold weak winter sunshine in my pyjamas with a cup of coffee and a great group of friends.
I am both grateful and a bit pissy that no one mentioned the lack of ritual.
Blessings
Debbie
Friday, 13 June 2014
Charities?
“Do you have a moment to talk about Amnesty International?” A very polite and somewhat attractive young man addressed me outside my supermarket. His little table was covered in pictures of Malala with a single tattered laminated leaflet on top.
That day, I really didn’t. I had a very small window of time to get my grocery shopping done before I had a series of appointments and commitments. I said as much and offered a simple cash donation. “We’re not taking donations today, we’re just taking registrations” he told me. I was a bit baffled, so I asked for clarification. He went into his spiel telling me about how they have a direct debit system and their minimum fee was $6 per week - the equivalent of only blah di blah.
Sorry lad, sorry Amnesty International, you lost me at the words “minimum fee”.
It’s not new though. Over 20 years ago when I was a poor, struggling beneficiary, a collector for Greenpeace knocked on the door to my flat asking for donations. At the time, my total income was $97 per week. Out of that came my share of the rent, the phone and power, and the groceries. I was still happy to give this young man some of my change - maybe $3 or $4. “Oh no,” said this man, “Our minimum donation is $20”. He left with nothing and I’ve never made another donation to Greenpeace.
I was a bit angered when Campbell Live did a piece on St Johns Ambulance. John Campbell explained about how they survive purely on donations. I looked from the tv to the tax invoice and threats of debt collection that I had from St John’s for the third ambulance call out I had last year. I’d already paid for the first two ambulances at $84 each, but I was struggling with the third. They were life-saving call outs too - not something minor or time wasters. I don’t begrudge them the money, they save lives and do a fantastic job in very difficult circumstances. But this was quite a misrepresentation. How is payment for services surviving on donations?
Now I accept that some of this may be that I have some Oppositional Defiant issues - my husband certainly complains that I don’t do what I’m told - but I’m sure I’m not the only one who tends to object to this. A donation to a charity is supposed to be a voluntary offering of what I am able to spare, isn’t it?
At what point does a charity become a business? I was sure it has something to do with profit and non-profit. But as I have a business that has yet to make a profit and profits are not our focus, doesn’t that blur that line already? Benefiting the wider community? There are other non-profit organisations that benefit the wider community (TimeBanking is an immediate example for me) that don’t count as charities. Giving goods or services away to those in need with no expectation of return was a suggestion from my husband. Surely the $252 in total I was invoiced by St John’s ambulance made that argument invalid. I’m also aware of a religious group in New Zealand, a group of maybe 5 people at the most that have registered as a charity and are constantly asking for donations, but I have yet to see what they are doing for the community around them to qualify as a charity. In case you’re wondering, they’ve been registered for at least 5 years.
I’m saddened by all of this. I think all these charities do some wonderful work. However, whatever small amount I have to spare I will share where I please, when I please. And it will be a donation, not a weekly fee.
That day, I really didn’t. I had a very small window of time to get my grocery shopping done before I had a series of appointments and commitments. I said as much and offered a simple cash donation. “We’re not taking donations today, we’re just taking registrations” he told me. I was a bit baffled, so I asked for clarification. He went into his spiel telling me about how they have a direct debit system and their minimum fee was $6 per week - the equivalent of only blah di blah.
Sorry lad, sorry Amnesty International, you lost me at the words “minimum fee”.
It’s not new though. Over 20 years ago when I was a poor, struggling beneficiary, a collector for Greenpeace knocked on the door to my flat asking for donations. At the time, my total income was $97 per week. Out of that came my share of the rent, the phone and power, and the groceries. I was still happy to give this young man some of my change - maybe $3 or $4. “Oh no,” said this man, “Our minimum donation is $20”. He left with nothing and I’ve never made another donation to Greenpeace.
I was a bit angered when Campbell Live did a piece on St Johns Ambulance. John Campbell explained about how they survive purely on donations. I looked from the tv to the tax invoice and threats of debt collection that I had from St John’s for the third ambulance call out I had last year. I’d already paid for the first two ambulances at $84 each, but I was struggling with the third. They were life-saving call outs too - not something minor or time wasters. I don’t begrudge them the money, they save lives and do a fantastic job in very difficult circumstances. But this was quite a misrepresentation. How is payment for services surviving on donations?
Now I accept that some of this may be that I have some Oppositional Defiant issues - my husband certainly complains that I don’t do what I’m told - but I’m sure I’m not the only one who tends to object to this. A donation to a charity is supposed to be a voluntary offering of what I am able to spare, isn’t it?
At what point does a charity become a business? I was sure it has something to do with profit and non-profit. But as I have a business that has yet to make a profit and profits are not our focus, doesn’t that blur that line already? Benefiting the wider community? There are other non-profit organisations that benefit the wider community (TimeBanking is an immediate example for me) that don’t count as charities. Giving goods or services away to those in need with no expectation of return was a suggestion from my husband. Surely the $252 in total I was invoiced by St John’s ambulance made that argument invalid. I’m also aware of a religious group in New Zealand, a group of maybe 5 people at the most that have registered as a charity and are constantly asking for donations, but I have yet to see what they are doing for the community around them to qualify as a charity. In case you’re wondering, they’ve been registered for at least 5 years.
I’m saddened by all of this. I think all these charities do some wonderful work. However, whatever small amount I have to spare I will share where I please, when I please. And it will be a donation, not a weekly fee.
Wednesday, 21 May 2014
Giving up Smoking
I’d decided that I was giving up smoking on Friday last week. It worked out that the last cigarette of my packet was smoked Friday morning with my first cuppa as I woke up for the day.
I started smoking when I was 13 or 14. I gave up for four years around my late 20s and early 30s, then my marriage broke up. I started to spend time with a great group of women - we’d have a few drinks every Thursday night and most of them smoked. They did keep telling me not to buy my own smokes, just to smoke theirs while we were drinking. By the second night, I was really uncomfortable with this. I remember buying my first packet. I sat and stared at the small, white, cellophane wrapped, unopened box for about 15 minutes wondering what I’d done. It was one thing to have the odd smoke and another to buy 20 of them in one go. It was a huge turning point and I didn’t really know how I felt about it. This small inoffensive seeming handful was so heavy and symbolic of so many other things.
When I wrote my book, I made a bargain with my Gods that included me giving up smoking. It was to be my sacrifice. Then I couldn’t make myself do it. I was afraid, I made excuses and I had my world ripped apart around me. Several times I’ve had friends comment that they don’t know how I stayed sane coping with some of the events of the last year. Several times, I made the decision to give up. This was to be my last cigarette. Then my son attempted suicide. Yeah, I bought smokes on my way into the hospital following the ambulance. That was never going to last in those circumstances.
Twice I managed to go 8 days with no problems. I didn’t tell anyone until I’d gotten to a week. I didn’t want to hear everyone’s advice, expectations or even how proud of me they are. I’m sure they all mean well, but I find it… actually, I don’t know how I find it, I just know I don’t like it much and it annoys me for some reason. It annoys me just as much when people are being understanding about how I tripped up with it now and then - I would react (inside) in just the same way as I did when I was being judged for being weak. With those two bouts of 8 days, I had stresses, I had situations where someone hurt me very badly and I wanted to hurt him physically as if that would fix it. I heard the lies that person told to try and gain sympathy from others and justify what they’d done. So many times, I didn’t want a whole cigarette, I just wanted a puff. If I happened to get a puff I was all good and didn’t want a smoke anymore. But that wasn’t always possible. I bought a small packet and hid it. I could get a puff now and then when I needed it, but could still pretend I wasn’t smoking.
The problem with having a pack is that the pack is like a commitment. There are 20 or 25 or 30 smokes there that need consuming. They call out to you, you are always aware that this little packet is there and maybe, once you’ve finished them all and you’re free of this little pack, you’ll be okay to start over. To be smokefree.
The odd thing was there was not a physical need for a smoke. It was all the crap in my head. I would catch myself justifying buying a pack of 20s to myself and even trying to plan how I’d hide it. No, I would tell myself firmly, I don’t do that anymore. But I’d still find I was scheming, it would be quieter this time, almost so that I couldn’t hear myself doing it. It’s okay, with what you’ve been through lately, no one would blame you, I’d hear inside my head.
I listened to other people talking about their final triggers to give up. One guy said he suddenly realised that he doesn’t enjoy smoking, it costs him money he can’t afford and that was his thing. He looked at his pack and said “Fuck you, get out of my life.” And that was that for him. Another friend was having a throat cancer scare. Someone else had just realised a gym membership cost the same each week and made the decision to do that instead.
For me, it was the promised sacrifice but also the money. My car needs about $500 spent on it for a wof and that’s $500 we don’t currently have to spare. I’ve been trying to compare smoking to eating chocolate. Yes there are times that I crave chocolate, but if I have none in the house, I’m hardly going to drive 10kms (my nearest shop) to get a chocolate bar. So Friday morning it was to be.
I was to have a fairly busy morning which I thought would be a good thing. There was a woman coming to pick up a bull I had borrowed and once he was off and away, I had two appointments to make. Keeping busy should keep me sufficiently occupied to cope with not smoking, or so I thought.
Without going into too many details, it was a catastrophe. Almost everything that could have gone wrong, did go wrong - up to and including the bull being in very real danger of dying - he jumped halfway over the bar across the front of the float and got himself stuck with a lot of pressure on his heart.
Once all had been sorted and he’d made his way to his next port of call, I was physically, mentally and emotionally wrung out. I wanted a drink and it was only 10am! I bought a packet of smokes and gave myself until Monday. In my head, I was telling myself off for making excuses and giving in too easily, but also telling myself it was better than hitting the vodka on a Friday morning.
Monday, again, I had one cigarette left and that was gone by 6:45am.
I spent half the day kinda wandering around feeling like I’d forgotten or was missing something. I was fidgety, like I had an itch that would be impolite to scratch in company. It dominated my thoughts for most of the day.
For the most part, I thought it went okay.
But I was amazed though at how everyone else suddenly became a perfect angel. Their behaviour was totally beyond reproach. I was obviously just cranky because I was giving up smoking. It was all my bad attitude that was the problem.
I saw this type of thing when I was pregnant and again when my first marriage broke up. I couldn’t possibly be telling someone off because they’d deserved it - it had to be hormones and stress on my part. Roll your eyes and pity that woman who is clearly not coping.
I stopped speaking in the end. My dearest darling hubby had bitched and moaned and picked holes in everything I said. I couldn’t say anything right, I was snarled at and spoken down to - but you see, it was all me, I’m just grumpy because I’m giving up smoking. That sounds so much worse than it really was. He was in a mood and was cranky, but he didn’t pick on me all night.
Tuesday. Second day. I thought my first one of the morning would be the hardest one to miss. I think it was more the one when I get back from the school run.
Today I ate. I snacked, I picked, I “tasted” dinner while I was cooking it so much that I was so full I actually felt sick before I’d even sat down to eat my dinner. I wasn’t actually hungry, I wanted to taste something. I still ate my dinner.
I needed to empty the ashtrays today. I was starting to eye up some of the bigger butts. They were looking good even though they suddenly smell really strong and really foul.
In other words, I’ve noticed a huge difference to my sense of smell, already.
Wednesday. Third day. I didn’t sleep very well last night. I’m coughing more than I did when I was still smoking (can I say that yet? It’s been three days), but I’m still feeling overfull and somewhat sick from eating far far too much yesterday and last night. I think I’ll be drinking a lot of water today and not consuming much else.
I know that the biggest thing, well, one of the biggest things for me is habit. I noticed yesterday though, I felt as though I’d been busy for half the morning. I’d gotten plenty done, it must have been around 11am, I thought. Then I heard the letterbox bang shut and the postie drive away. I checked the time, it was quarter past nine. I’d gotten all of this done in an hour or less? Right, time for a break and a … snack. It’s partially the habit and partially a reward I’d give myself for getting some stuff done. It’s something to do with my hands when I’m on the phone. It used to be my little piece of time out. When you have an Aspie/ASD child, having the space to take even 5 mins for yourself some days is a rarity. The toilet/bathroom doesn’t always work, I’ve been followed into that several times. It got worse once he hit his mid-teens and started smoking. I didn’t have that escape, he’d come with me for a smoke.
There is also a lot of fear. Fear of gaining a lot of weight when I already have cholesterol issues. Look at the way I ate yesterday, that was only my second day! Fear of getting sick. See, I’ve done this a few times now. I know that getting rather ill a short time after giving up smoking is completely normal. Smoking kills off some of your immune system, but at the same time, it replaces it and works in the same way. When I gave up for that four years, I sniffed and snuffled as though I had hayfever for two full years. I had a constant slightly runny nose that whole time.
There’s another fear, but it’s tied to stop-smoking medication. My parents used one very highly recommended form after Dad had a heart attack. It worked very well, my mother used to be bad for keeping a hidden pack, or coming to visit and having one of mine. This time there was none of that - much to Dad’s surprise. Unfortunately, since taking this medication, Mum’s short term memory has become somewhat patchy and unreliable. It may not be connected, it may just be a fluke of timing. I heard a suggestion that there was a rare link between this medication and messing up memory, but I haven’t heard it formally and don’t do the chinese whisper thing (which is why I’m also not naming the meds). But what if? I’m going to do this on my own because it’s a sacrifice, it’s supposed to be hard - that’s part of the point. I’m afraid of the medication in case I’m suddenly the person who asks the same question 5 times in a half hour phone call, in case I’m suddenly forgetting birthdays and getting confused about plans for later on this afternoon. I don’t want to be the person that others are suggesting should be in a home when I’m clearly far too young for that and quite frankly, still functioning fine in everything else.
There are a lot of jobs that need doing. Many of them are away from the house down in the paddocks. I think that might be where I spend a large portion of today. I have fences to secure to stop the sheep from going under and through and into paddocks where I don’t want them to be. I have trees to plant, trees to prune and trees to move. I have rocks to shift, a garden that needs work, cattle that need separating for the homekill this weekend. I also have another book to work on, research to complete, sources to find, taxes to do, a calendar to finish, half-written blog posts to tidy and post (more than one blog). I have plenty to keep me occupied.
Wish me luck!
Blessings!
 |
| By Challiyil Eswaramangalath Vipin from Chalakudy, India (cigarette.. like a cigarette in the rain) [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons |
I started smoking when I was 13 or 14. I gave up for four years around my late 20s and early 30s, then my marriage broke up. I started to spend time with a great group of women - we’d have a few drinks every Thursday night and most of them smoked. They did keep telling me not to buy my own smokes, just to smoke theirs while we were drinking. By the second night, I was really uncomfortable with this. I remember buying my first packet. I sat and stared at the small, white, cellophane wrapped, unopened box for about 15 minutes wondering what I’d done. It was one thing to have the odd smoke and another to buy 20 of them in one go. It was a huge turning point and I didn’t really know how I felt about it. This small inoffensive seeming handful was so heavy and symbolic of so many other things.
When I wrote my book, I made a bargain with my Gods that included me giving up smoking. It was to be my sacrifice. Then I couldn’t make myself do it. I was afraid, I made excuses and I had my world ripped apart around me. Several times I’ve had friends comment that they don’t know how I stayed sane coping with some of the events of the last year. Several times, I made the decision to give up. This was to be my last cigarette. Then my son attempted suicide. Yeah, I bought smokes on my way into the hospital following the ambulance. That was never going to last in those circumstances.
Twice I managed to go 8 days with no problems. I didn’t tell anyone until I’d gotten to a week. I didn’t want to hear everyone’s advice, expectations or even how proud of me they are. I’m sure they all mean well, but I find it… actually, I don’t know how I find it, I just know I don’t like it much and it annoys me for some reason. It annoys me just as much when people are being understanding about how I tripped up with it now and then - I would react (inside) in just the same way as I did when I was being judged for being weak. With those two bouts of 8 days, I had stresses, I had situations where someone hurt me very badly and I wanted to hurt him physically as if that would fix it. I heard the lies that person told to try and gain sympathy from others and justify what they’d done. So many times, I didn’t want a whole cigarette, I just wanted a puff. If I happened to get a puff I was all good and didn’t want a smoke anymore. But that wasn’t always possible. I bought a small packet and hid it. I could get a puff now and then when I needed it, but could still pretend I wasn’t smoking.
The problem with having a pack is that the pack is like a commitment. There are 20 or 25 or 30 smokes there that need consuming. They call out to you, you are always aware that this little packet is there and maybe, once you’ve finished them all and you’re free of this little pack, you’ll be okay to start over. To be smokefree.
The odd thing was there was not a physical need for a smoke. It was all the crap in my head. I would catch myself justifying buying a pack of 20s to myself and even trying to plan how I’d hide it. No, I would tell myself firmly, I don’t do that anymore. But I’d still find I was scheming, it would be quieter this time, almost so that I couldn’t hear myself doing it. It’s okay, with what you’ve been through lately, no one would blame you, I’d hear inside my head.
I listened to other people talking about their final triggers to give up. One guy said he suddenly realised that he doesn’t enjoy smoking, it costs him money he can’t afford and that was his thing. He looked at his pack and said “Fuck you, get out of my life.” And that was that for him. Another friend was having a throat cancer scare. Someone else had just realised a gym membership cost the same each week and made the decision to do that instead.
For me, it was the promised sacrifice but also the money. My car needs about $500 spent on it for a wof and that’s $500 we don’t currently have to spare. I’ve been trying to compare smoking to eating chocolate. Yes there are times that I crave chocolate, but if I have none in the house, I’m hardly going to drive 10kms (my nearest shop) to get a chocolate bar. So Friday morning it was to be.
I was to have a fairly busy morning which I thought would be a good thing. There was a woman coming to pick up a bull I had borrowed and once he was off and away, I had two appointments to make. Keeping busy should keep me sufficiently occupied to cope with not smoking, or so I thought.
Without going into too many details, it was a catastrophe. Almost everything that could have gone wrong, did go wrong - up to and including the bull being in very real danger of dying - he jumped halfway over the bar across the front of the float and got himself stuck with a lot of pressure on his heart.
Once all had been sorted and he’d made his way to his next port of call, I was physically, mentally and emotionally wrung out. I wanted a drink and it was only 10am! I bought a packet of smokes and gave myself until Monday. In my head, I was telling myself off for making excuses and giving in too easily, but also telling myself it was better than hitting the vodka on a Friday morning.
Monday, again, I had one cigarette left and that was gone by 6:45am.
I spent half the day kinda wandering around feeling like I’d forgotten or was missing something. I was fidgety, like I had an itch that would be impolite to scratch in company. It dominated my thoughts for most of the day.
For the most part, I thought it went okay.
But I was amazed though at how everyone else suddenly became a perfect angel. Their behaviour was totally beyond reproach. I was obviously just cranky because I was giving up smoking. It was all my bad attitude that was the problem.
I saw this type of thing when I was pregnant and again when my first marriage broke up. I couldn’t possibly be telling someone off because they’d deserved it - it had to be hormones and stress on my part. Roll your eyes and pity that woman who is clearly not coping.
I stopped speaking in the end. My dearest darling hubby had bitched and moaned and picked holes in everything I said. I couldn’t say anything right, I was snarled at and spoken down to - but you see, it was all me, I’m just grumpy because I’m giving up smoking. That sounds so much worse than it really was. He was in a mood and was cranky, but he didn’t pick on me all night.
Tuesday. Second day. I thought my first one of the morning would be the hardest one to miss. I think it was more the one when I get back from the school run.
Today I ate. I snacked, I picked, I “tasted” dinner while I was cooking it so much that I was so full I actually felt sick before I’d even sat down to eat my dinner. I wasn’t actually hungry, I wanted to taste something. I still ate my dinner.
I needed to empty the ashtrays today. I was starting to eye up some of the bigger butts. They were looking good even though they suddenly smell really strong and really foul.
In other words, I’ve noticed a huge difference to my sense of smell, already.
Wednesday. Third day. I didn’t sleep very well last night. I’m coughing more than I did when I was still smoking (can I say that yet? It’s been three days), but I’m still feeling overfull and somewhat sick from eating far far too much yesterday and last night. I think I’ll be drinking a lot of water today and not consuming much else.
I know that the biggest thing, well, one of the biggest things for me is habit. I noticed yesterday though, I felt as though I’d been busy for half the morning. I’d gotten plenty done, it must have been around 11am, I thought. Then I heard the letterbox bang shut and the postie drive away. I checked the time, it was quarter past nine. I’d gotten all of this done in an hour or less? Right, time for a break and a … snack. It’s partially the habit and partially a reward I’d give myself for getting some stuff done. It’s something to do with my hands when I’m on the phone. It used to be my little piece of time out. When you have an Aspie/ASD child, having the space to take even 5 mins for yourself some days is a rarity. The toilet/bathroom doesn’t always work, I’ve been followed into that several times. It got worse once he hit his mid-teens and started smoking. I didn’t have that escape, he’d come with me for a smoke.
There is also a lot of fear. Fear of gaining a lot of weight when I already have cholesterol issues. Look at the way I ate yesterday, that was only my second day! Fear of getting sick. See, I’ve done this a few times now. I know that getting rather ill a short time after giving up smoking is completely normal. Smoking kills off some of your immune system, but at the same time, it replaces it and works in the same way. When I gave up for that four years, I sniffed and snuffled as though I had hayfever for two full years. I had a constant slightly runny nose that whole time.
There’s another fear, but it’s tied to stop-smoking medication. My parents used one very highly recommended form after Dad had a heart attack. It worked very well, my mother used to be bad for keeping a hidden pack, or coming to visit and having one of mine. This time there was none of that - much to Dad’s surprise. Unfortunately, since taking this medication, Mum’s short term memory has become somewhat patchy and unreliable. It may not be connected, it may just be a fluke of timing. I heard a suggestion that there was a rare link between this medication and messing up memory, but I haven’t heard it formally and don’t do the chinese whisper thing (which is why I’m also not naming the meds). But what if? I’m going to do this on my own because it’s a sacrifice, it’s supposed to be hard - that’s part of the point. I’m afraid of the medication in case I’m suddenly the person who asks the same question 5 times in a half hour phone call, in case I’m suddenly forgetting birthdays and getting confused about plans for later on this afternoon. I don’t want to be the person that others are suggesting should be in a home when I’m clearly far too young for that and quite frankly, still functioning fine in everything else.
There are a lot of jobs that need doing. Many of them are away from the house down in the paddocks. I think that might be where I spend a large portion of today. I have fences to secure to stop the sheep from going under and through and into paddocks where I don’t want them to be. I have trees to plant, trees to prune and trees to move. I have rocks to shift, a garden that needs work, cattle that need separating for the homekill this weekend. I also have another book to work on, research to complete, sources to find, taxes to do, a calendar to finish, half-written blog posts to tidy and post (more than one blog). I have plenty to keep me occupied.
Wish me luck!
Blessings!
Monday, 10 February 2014
Speaking Ill of the Dead
In a recent discussion about old traditions, this one came up. It came up specifically to have a crack at me because I’d dared to say that someone recently deceased “could be a twat at times”. I’m sure, if you didn’t already see it, you can imagine the shock and disgust this has raised - but has left me rather baffled on many levels. And not just because of the primary school tale-telling shit-stir way it was raised and treated.
You see, I never heard this expression until my late teens. Both my grandmothers were absolute bounties of superstitions and folk traditions, but I first heard this from a friend’s mother and my response at the time was “why on earth not?”
I have never been able to stomach those people who can’t stand someone when they’re alive but turn them into a saint on their passing. I’ve ended a friendship with a young lady who barely tolerated her partner, they fought (sometimes with physical violence) and she frequently ran him down - all while he was alive. After his suicide, even up to a year afterwards (which was roughly when I broke contact), it was true love and she just couldn’t possibly carry on living without him.
The people since that I’ve heard it from usually say it as they say something unkind about someone who has passed. “Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead but…” Is that better somehow? I’ve understood it to be similar to those who say “I don’t want to complain but…” I’m reminded of a line from Game of Thrones: “Anything that anyone says before the word ‘but’ is to be ignored.”
I’ve always treated the dead the same as I treat the living. This isn’t news. This is the best way to deal with ghosts and spirits. Any half-decent psychic will tell you that. Why should this suddenly change?
I also struggled with how describing someone’s behaviour counts as Speaking Ill of Them. I didn’t say anything that was untrue from my perspective, I didn’t even say anything remotely nasty. It was described as “extremely disparaging” and “an epithet”. I still maintain that was for dramatic effect from the people running around, telling on me and trying to create drama.
In my bafflement, I went to several people I knew who have a good solid grounding and knowledge of the same folk traditions as the people expressing their shock and horror at my statement. I spoke to them about this ‘tradition’, I asked questions and explained what had happened and my confusion.
In all cases, I was told that you continue to speak to them as you did in life. That you speak to and of them as if they were right next to you. Which is exactly what I did.
So all of this has left me even more baffled. I followed folk tradition to the letter - albeit unknowingly - because this is what I believe in. Do those who claim to follow folk tradition have less of a grasp of it? Or has it changed with more politically correct times?
The chap in question is more than welcome to come and speak to me about it. I have no issues regarding communicating with the deceased, but he hasn’t so far and I’m sure he’s aware of it.
Blessings
Debbie
You see, I never heard this expression until my late teens. Both my grandmothers were absolute bounties of superstitions and folk traditions, but I first heard this from a friend’s mother and my response at the time was “why on earth not?”
I have never been able to stomach those people who can’t stand someone when they’re alive but turn them into a saint on their passing. I’ve ended a friendship with a young lady who barely tolerated her partner, they fought (sometimes with physical violence) and she frequently ran him down - all while he was alive. After his suicide, even up to a year afterwards (which was roughly when I broke contact), it was true love and she just couldn’t possibly carry on living without him.
The people since that I’ve heard it from usually say it as they say something unkind about someone who has passed. “Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead but…” Is that better somehow? I’ve understood it to be similar to those who say “I don’t want to complain but…” I’m reminded of a line from Game of Thrones: “Anything that anyone says before the word ‘but’ is to be ignored.”
I’ve always treated the dead the same as I treat the living. This isn’t news. This is the best way to deal with ghosts and spirits. Any half-decent psychic will tell you that. Why should this suddenly change?
I also struggled with how describing someone’s behaviour counts as Speaking Ill of Them. I didn’t say anything that was untrue from my perspective, I didn’t even say anything remotely nasty. It was described as “extremely disparaging” and “an epithet”. I still maintain that was for dramatic effect from the people running around, telling on me and trying to create drama.
In my bafflement, I went to several people I knew who have a good solid grounding and knowledge of the same folk traditions as the people expressing their shock and horror at my statement. I spoke to them about this ‘tradition’, I asked questions and explained what had happened and my confusion.
In all cases, I was told that you continue to speak to them as you did in life. That you speak to and of them as if they were right next to you. Which is exactly what I did.
So all of this has left me even more baffled. I followed folk tradition to the letter - albeit unknowingly - because this is what I believe in. Do those who claim to follow folk tradition have less of a grasp of it? Or has it changed with more politically correct times?
The chap in question is more than welcome to come and speak to me about it. I have no issues regarding communicating with the deceased, but he hasn’t so far and I’m sure he’s aware of it.
Blessings
Debbie
Monday, 3 February 2014
Cauldrons 2014 PaganFest
Another PaganFest has come and gone and a good time was had by all.
Our few minor venue issues were sorted, Luana made it after all (with a little help) and everything went smoothly.
Big thanks to everyone who came along - especially our rather large North Island contingent.
Big thanks to Houngan Liam, Houngan Alistair and all the rest of the crew from Kiwi Mojo. We really appreciated the time, effort and money you put into just getting there. The ritual was phenomenal and it was nice to genuinely meet the Lwa who put in an appearance - as well as being something I will never forget.
Big thanks to Gavin the Druid for the lovely opening ceremony and Sunday night ritual. And for being part of our 'tribe', all the way down here, a long way from where he actually lives.
Many big thanks to Dobby, and Mr Dobby and little Miss Dobby. Just for being them.
It was our first drama free PaganFest. No big egos stomping on others and no drama queens causing situations. It was quite refreshing and something that I'm hoping will continue in future events.
That said, it is already getting back to me that there were issues. I haven't found the source of these rumours and trouble-making yet, but let me assure you, they're simply the products of someone's imagination and need for drama.
Here's to another one next year!
Blessings
Debbie
PS. Normally, when we ask for donations for a charity, there are small bits and bobs. The donations that came in for the animals have left us humbled. Big bags of expensive cat and dog biscuits. Large boxes of kitten food. Even from those who were day visitors. A huge thank you to all who contributed.
Our few minor venue issues were sorted, Luana made it after all (with a little help) and everything went smoothly.
Big thanks to everyone who came along - especially our rather large North Island contingent.
Big thanks to Houngan Liam, Houngan Alistair and all the rest of the crew from Kiwi Mojo. We really appreciated the time, effort and money you put into just getting there. The ritual was phenomenal and it was nice to genuinely meet the Lwa who put in an appearance - as well as being something I will never forget.
Big thanks to Gavin the Druid for the lovely opening ceremony and Sunday night ritual. And for being part of our 'tribe', all the way down here, a long way from where he actually lives.
Many big thanks to Dobby, and Mr Dobby and little Miss Dobby. Just for being them.
It was our first drama free PaganFest. No big egos stomping on others and no drama queens causing situations. It was quite refreshing and something that I'm hoping will continue in future events.
That said, it is already getting back to me that there were issues. I haven't found the source of these rumours and trouble-making yet, but let me assure you, they're simply the products of someone's imagination and need for drama.
Here's to another one next year!
Blessings
Debbie
PS. Normally, when we ask for donations for a charity, there are small bits and bobs. The donations that came in for the animals have left us humbled. Big bags of expensive cat and dog biscuits. Large boxes of kitten food. Even from those who were day visitors. A huge thank you to all who contributed.
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