Never underestimate empowered Christians. Good night and may pain relief be with us.

Lovely snake in the backyard!

This is the most beautiful day we've had since 2010 started. I felt like if I could get my balance, I had to get outside!

Mom went with me. We were happily digging away. Her secret name is Assiduous Weeder and I make regular healthful weed rescues from her weed bag.

She had the shovel and I had a bucket and one of my canes. We were giggling and digging, I had a nice conversation with a squirrel (squirrels speak English - who knew? XD ). I'd collected gorgeous viola odoratas - sweet violets - and one lone dandelion bloom. Mom had dug up a nice bunch of wild garlic.

She saw a piece of plastic and tried to move it with the shovel so she could pick it up when suddenly she said, "There's a snake! It's a green snake!"

It looks more blue in this pic than it did through my eyes and hers. What a beaut, eh?

We've got all sorts of fauna around here: a raccoon family lives in my neighbor's backyard, salamanders and box turtles appear every now and then, lizards abound. There are more birds in this area than I could possibly count. I heard my lovely wood thrush day before yesterday in the early hours of light.

But nobody has seen a snake in so long, neither Mom nor I could remember.

She said, "Should I kill it?" I hollered, "Don't you DARE!"

So, several pics later, he (or she) pulled his/her head back out of sight, and we moved on to nice big dandelions and musk thistles.

Somebody here on this earth or in the life to come loves us. :)



Copyright 2008-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, Sparkling With Crystals, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission. Use the ShareThis link if you want to share this. Nothing in the above article is remunerated content. Remember that if my work gets published anywhere else without proper citation, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Sharethis: Sky Mall Kitty: The Best Song About Cats And Sky Mall Ever | The Awl

The internet is over.

I laughed until tears ran down my cheeks.

Sky Mall Kitties
Sky Mall Kitty: The Best Song About Cats And Sky Mall Ever | The Awl Source: theawl.com
Parin Stormlaughter sent this using ShareThis.

Fairy Ring

It's looked better before, more completely circular, but it had a recycle dumpster in the middle. Wouldn't have made a good pic.

We ought to be covered up with mushrooms by, say, Saturday. Claudette is coming and we may get the remnants of Ana before it's over.

Fairies, gnomes, leprechauns, elves, sprites, and other Natural things welcome.

Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Chapter Two

"And he sang to them, now in the Elven tongue, now in the speech of the West, until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness."
-The Return of the King, J. R. R. Tolkien


She wiped her own tears with her fingers, but felt no blessedness. She sings to herself in an unknown tongue.




Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

How come you aren't married?

Joke of the Week from Eddie at The Texas Cook Review 5/3/09:

Sitting in the bar George asked his 40-year-old buddy Johnny, "How come you aren't married?"

Johnny: "I haven't found the right woman yet."

George: "So what are you looking for?"

Johnny: "Oh she's got to be real pretty, - a good cook and house-keeper, and she's got to know how to handle money, a really nice and pleasant personality is a must - and money, she's got to have money...and a home, a nice big house, is what she has to have."

George: "A woman like that would be crazy to marry YOU."

Johnny: "Oh, it's okay if she is crazy."

Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

"Get better, different Relevant results fast !"

I'm about to the end of my useful minutes for today but I must, must share this with you all. Next column will be a Sharethis article about the common industry practice of remunerating online writers for reviews of products, something that the FTC is about to crack down on for various reasons. And you know IRS won't be far behind...but in the meantime...(and no, this is NOT a remunerated review. I have never earned even one penny from either of my blogs. Sad, but true. XD)

Firefox has this thing called Yoono that'll run IM platforms, gmail, twitter, facebook, and A LOT of other things in a sidebar. It has an advertisement window at the bottom. The adverts offered are determined by the contents of your browser window. If there's already an advert or pop-up browser window on your screen...

I don't do the porno thing or gamble online. Some of you might so you possibly already know the answer but this is what went though my poor, feeble mind...

"Looking for [Templates]?

Delivering best [Templates] results. Get better, different Relevant results fast ! Searching best of [Templates] online."

"Looking for [how to respond to MILs sex comments]?

Delivering best [how to respond to MILs sex comments] results. Get better, different Relevant results fast ! Searching best of [how to respond to MILs sex comments] online.

"Looking for [abdominal trauma on donated cadavers signal of foul play]?

Delivering best [abdominal trauma on donated cadavers signal of foul play] results. Get better, different Relevant results fast ! Searching best of [abdominal trauma on donated cadavers signal of foul play] online."

"Looking for [save your mortgage NOW!]?

Delivering best [save your mortgage NOW!] results. Get better, different Relevant results fast ! Searching best of [save your mortgage NOW!] online."

"Looking for [image of psychedelic mushroom]?

Delivering best [image of psychedelic mushroom] results. Get better, different Relevant results fast ! Searching best of [image of psychedelic mushroom] online."

Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Astrological Age of Amphibians

"The following aspects should also be noted:

* Semi-Semisquare (22.5 degrees)

* Squine (105 degrees)

* Tridecile (108 degrees)

* Quindicile (165 degrees)

* Reptile (does not exist, is a joke)

* Debile (does not exist, is a bad joke)"

Astrowiki, article Aspects


My Moon is Reptile to Mars and Venus at the moment. It will progress to Frog at some point. When it does, I shall be prepared to kiss said Frog so he will transit into Prince and we will hop into the river.

I believe I've been studying birth charts a bit too intently.

As long as as I don't have a sudden transit into Imbecile, I'll be alright. XD


Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Free Lodging

Utilities not included

Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Moody Girl and Untitled Man

I write poetry every now and then. This offering is the product of this mood funk I'm in.

Untitled Man



Your lesson is to learn to let him go.
Let him go. Let go.
You know.

I will do it, Mother, I will.
I know how.

Then you know it will hurt you, dear one.
Close your eyes and I will help you.

Shred the bark from the trees,
Blast the dirt into the air for miles,
Incinerate the face of the entire world,
Leave nothing alive.

Rage, raise your flaming arms and burn the very air.
Shake the planets like dice.
Close in around the sun, crush it, crush it.
Leave nothing as it was.

Let him go. Let him go. Let him go.

Turn now.
Turn.
Turn.

Swirling now, going up.
Wrap yourself in everything you've destroyed.
Swirl, like a tornado, that's the way.
Carry everything away.

The earth is a steel ball now.

Naked, standing, eye to eye.
Don't approach. Don't hold. Don't touch.
He's gone. He's gone. He's gone.
(Close your eyes, dear one.
I will help you.)

Your lesson was to learn to let him go.
The scorpion's now stung herself to death.
Remind yourself if should you think of him and join him,
and forget.

Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission under any circumstances. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Teach a Man to Sit...

"Give your man a chair and he rests right then.
Teach your man to sit and he will rest forever.
Having to teach your man to sit on his butt forever is unnecessary.
So, just give your man a chair."
Parin Stormlaughter



Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission under any circumstances. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

"Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again..."
Sounds of Silence, written by Paul Simon


"He's here!"
Legolas, speaking of the mind of Sauron, from LOTR: The Two Towers, the movie adapted by Phillippa Boyens, Fran Walsh, and Peter Jackson



Early every year, generally during Lent, I have a huge mood crash.

I heard the Chinese gong of tinnitus in my right Meniere's ear earlier. I have four separate tones and timbres of tinnitus that I hear bilaterally, every day, 24/7. The Chinese gong sound is not one of them. A full-blown Meniere's attack is coming.

In the last three or four years I've developed mood crashes in association with Migraine attacks too. Full moon next week, Tuesday I believe, the Worm Moon as this one is called. Full moons always trigger Migraine attacks.

This year, the absolutely perfect alignment, and my old friend has come.

Death. Impending world-wide disaster (be under no illusion, I've dreamt it in the last week and saw it--it's coming). Loneliness even, and that's an odd thing to trouble me. I relish solitude and silence, cannot get enough. A week from tomorrow will be 18 years since the last time I was with my ex-husband. I'm a sworn celibate since my divorce. It's...tough.

Longing for God that cannot, and I mean cannot be expressed. It's a soul thing, souls that have no five senses to process information. How does a person talk about an event that doesn't come into the mind through one of the five senses? How does a person continue to live like this? St. Teresa of Jesus tried to talk about it. Once she said that she died because she could not die. I understand.

It hurts, to want like this. To want God so utterly inexpressibly, to want that which by everything I hold to be right would be completely wrong, to want to be already past the coming purgation, to want to adjust time and erase the last two years completely from all remembrance. I smolder without being consumed for the future, that which for me may forever remain just beyond the tips of my sparkling fingers. The pain is...exquisite.

Darkness, my old friend, is never far away.

It's 3:00AM.


"....'Take my arms that I might reach you,'
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed in the wells of silence.
The Sounds of Silence, written by Paul Simon


"No one knows what it's like to feel these feelings,
Like I do.
And I blame you."
Behind Blue Eyes, written by Pete Townshend of The Who



Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission under any circumstances. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Cancer and death

Please, if prayer is in your belief system, pray for my cousins and Aunt Mary. And my mother, who has been hit hard by this.

The doctor told my cousins that my Aunt Mary had two hours to live, when my cousin called this afternoon. She has most likely died by now.

I've only got eleven cousins on my father's side (got thirty three on mom's side) so we're somewhat closer. My poor cousin cried and cried while we were talking.

My mother has lost some ground now. Her husband and now her sister-in-law, gone from cancer in nine months.

We love you all. Please, please, please get checked for cancer. Get treated. Please live.



Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission under any circumstances. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

Transpersonal Psychology or The Christian Metaphysician

Transpersonal psychology, from Wiki.

A more perfect combination of applying health care, psychology, the arts, and mysticism/metaphysical studies to serve aching mankind cannot be found on this earth than in transpersonal psychology.

I was only two courses short of a minor in psychology back when Noah was unloading the Ark and I was getting my Bachelor of Arts degree.

New Age isn't the wave of the future. The individual, unique transpersonal quest is.

Are Christian and metaphysician mutually exclusive? XD

More to come. :)



Copyright 2007-2009 Parin Stormlaughter, The Carmelite's Habit, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. I do not grant reprint permission under any circumstances. Contact me to request permission to link. And remember that if my work gets published anywhere else, I'll pray for you. And perhaps take legal action. Rest assured, prayer is far more effective.

The Liturgy of the Hours or My Two Cents in the Fountain of Holy Water

In this "public prayer of the Church [the Liturgy of the Hours]," the faithful (clergy, religious, and lay people) exercise the royal priesthood of the baptized. Celebrated in "the form approved" by the Church, the Liturgy of the Hours "is truly the voice of the Bride herself addressed to her Bridegroom. It is the very prayer which Christ himself together with his Body addresses to the Father." Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) paragraph 1174

My mother wasn't feeling well the other day. I offered to get my spray bottle of Holy Water with Blessed Salt. She declined the offer at first saying she didn't know what it would do--I'm Roman Catholic and she's not, knows nothing about details of my belief system. I told her it was a sacramental and would direct the public prayers of the Church. I reassured her that Holy Water wasn't a magic charm or talisman. She finally agreed and later told me how much better she felt after I did my thing.

I read the "Office for the Dead" recently. The Office for the Dead is part of the Liturgy of the Hours, also known as the Divine Office.

I love the Divine Office. Of the devotions directed to be done by my beloved Order of Discalced Carmelites Secular, daily praying of the Divine Office was right up there with the prescribed mental prayer time.

The Divine Office is recommended for all the faithful. Participating in it strengthens Sacramentals. Assisting at Holy Mass strengthens Sacramentals too. Sacramentals direct both of these public prayers of the Church so the more souls who participate, the greater strengthening of faith and the faithful. Jesus had something to say about faith the size of a grain of mustard (Matthew 17:20 and Luke 17:6).

Sacramentals do not confer the grace of the Holy Spirit in the way that the sacraments do, but by the Church's prayer, they prepare us to receive grace and dispose us to cooperate with it. For well-disposed members of the faithful, the liturgy of the sacraments and sacramentals sanctifies almost every event of their lives with the divine grace which flows from the Paschal mystery of the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Christ. From this source all sacraments and sacramentals draw their power..." CCC paragraph 1670

Here's a great link from the EWTN website with more information about the Divine Office. Breviaries are available from Amazon (search Christian Prayer and the Liturgy of the Hours). Two books are available: the Liturgy of the Hours which is full length with the Psalter printed for each day and is frequently in four volumes; and Christian Prayer, which is a complete Liturgy book except that it contains the Psalter in a four-week repeating form and only an abbreviated Office of Readings. I use Christian Prayer as my breviary, plus the Carmelite Proper of the Liturgy of the Hours for our specific Feasts and Saints (the red book in the header of this page).

I'm off to read Vespers, or Evening Prayer. This is Tuesday of the Second Week of Ordinary Time. Time to contribute my prayers to the Church for Holy Water, and Blessed Salt, and Blessed Candles, and such.

Who knows if my two cents in the fountain of Holy Water will be enough to Jesus-ify anyone? There are many, many pennies in there already.

Suffering and Christian joy, thy name is Parin. Conversion, thy name is Christian.

And may Almighty God bless us, protect us from all evil, and bring us to everlasting life. Amen.

Thanks, Aikichik, for modeling

Happiest Birthday to Me

Today is my birthday. I'm 48 years old.

Today is also the Feast of St. John of the Cross, my hero in Carmel.

As we say down here, "We po'fokes". I told Assistant Offspring to save their money and not get anything for me. What they did for me has made me giggle all afternoon. They bought a card, and baked a small chocolate cake.


The cake is amazing. Here it is with my halite lamp behind it, sitting on a coverlet that's more than 100 years old. It was made completely by Mary Alice Fisher. She was my maternal great-grandmother. Keeps me warm of a night.







Only one candle but it looks like it's on fire... :)


But the card took the cake. Open it, and it plays--The Hampster Dance.

I screamed. We all sang at the tops of our lungs. I love Hampsterdance. And Assistant Offspring knew and had bought this card a while back and saved it for me.

Microwaved birthday cake and a Hampsterdance card. And love, so much love.

Have I ever had such a wonderful birthday? If so, it was nearly 30 years ago...

I love you all.

Hampsters and the Kung-Fu Gerbil battle it out

Unconditional Love

We've had a thread going on the www.menieres.org bulletin board about unconditional love.

It's been eye-opening to read the opinions.

Once I set my will to love, I never rescind it. Ever.

I might not live with you, I might not talk to you, I might not pay you any attention if you've hurt me or threatened me with no apology or attempt to make things right, but if I have set my will to love you, love you I shall now, henceforth, and forever.

I said this to someone who has my unconditional love:

Need blood? You can have mine. Need new lungs? You can have mine. Want a new heart? You can have mine--wait, you already have my heart...

I'm not going to put myself in the way of someone who is going to hurt me, deride me, mock and scorn me. But if I love you, I love you. Forever and ever.

Amen.

Fix it or don't. It's all the same to me. Decide if you want to be friends or not. Your decision won't have any effect on whether I love you. That has been decided.

I'll continue to pray for you, love you, and do it all in the quiet of my heart. If you seem to me to need sweet reminding, I'll remind you. But I'll say this again: I'm not going to put myself in the way of someone who is going to hurt me, deride me, mock and scorn me. And encourage others to do the same things.

Unconditional love? Or tough love? Is there a difference?

Beware of shysters and taking a break

The Carmelite's Habit staff is taking a short break.

I verbally jerked a knot in somebody's tail this morning and made myself sick in the process. Doesn't matter that I'm in in the right. Anger this intense, emotions of this intensity regardless of the circumstances good or bad, have made me so sick in the past that it's gotten away from me and I've ended up in bed for a week.

Stress is my number one Meniere's trigger and right now, tinnitus in my ears is screaming. I'm nauseated and my chest is hurting. I'm stress-eating Reese's Miniatures.

Beware of shysters.

Critters of 2008

Last week, I finally captured a little lizardy-looking critter that had been scooting around the house. I had caught it in my hands several times but it literally slipped through my fingers back to the floor. Canning jars...second most useful thing to have around the house.

After sharing with my mother ("That thing looks like a miniature alligator!"), I released it into the wilds of the front yard. It immediately scooted onto a rock and seemed glad.

OH HECK I have no idea if it was glad or not! XD It just...seemed like it would be glad if it could.

I just hope that if I ever find myself out of my natural environment, some kind soul will capture me gently and carry me home.


Last summer in the heat of May, four days after my father died, we found this marvelous darling. My father would have called this a terrapin.

Lucky shot because he was making tracks and was gone in a flash. Yeah, a racing turtle!







We have all sorts of critters around here. Next summer, I'm going to stake out the backyard and get pics of the raccoon family that lives next door. There's a monstrous beaver the size of a small Labrador not too far from here, down the mountain. I'd love to get a pic of him or her. The City of Vestavia Hills (next to us) issued a coyote alert two years ago when they started eating peoples' pets.

I've heard migrating Canadian geese four times during the autumn. My mother sees small bears at her farm, and we've heard wild cats yowling.

Please, love the Earth and take care of its inhabitants. All of us.

Announcing December 2008 Headache Blog Carnival

First anniversary of Diana Lee's Headache Blog Carnival! (link also on left)

Quote from Diana Lee:

Entries for the December 2008 Headache & Migraine Disease Blog Carnival on the theme of "Maximizing Your Enjoyment of the Holiday Season" are due by the end of the day on Friday, December 5th.

Posts may be submitted through the form on the carnival website or directly to me by e-mail.

The December carnival will be posted on Monday, December 8th at right here at Somebody Heal Me.

Teaser: My submission will have a holiday recipe, too. :D

Three Sisters or, What can I do for you, Grandson?

I don't talk about my First Nation ancestors very often. When I was growing up, that part of our tree wasn't...valued.

The Cherokee People are described here by William Bartram:

...Their complexion is a reddish brown or copper colour;

One of my mother's sisters had that marvelously beautiful complexion. All eight of the siblings who lived to adulthood were slightly more dark complexioned than my grandmother who had the fair complexion of the Northern Europeans (that I inherited from her and from my father's side). That has led them to postulate that the First Nation blood from family legend came from my grandfather's side, the Lambs, the first of whom came to Alabama in 1798.

I'll be doggoned if I can sort out which Lamb though. *happy sigh* This sort of challenge is why I love genealogy.

I imagine most any family line that's been on this side of the Pond for as many years as we have will contain at least a few ancestral lines illustrating the melting-pot aspect of American culture. My maternal grandmother Mayo's line came over from England sometime before1650 landing in Ipswich, Massachusetts. Our William Mayo, father of Valentine and his sister Sarah, was born in 1650. We're descended from Valentine's son James Mayo Sr. My great-grandmother Mary Alice Fisher who married Walter Steele Patton Mayo, was descended from Johann Adam Fischer, the Silesian Black Forest Baron von Fischerbach. The Fisher line came over, according to family legend, at the invitation of William Penn as part of his Holy Experiment. They were not Quakers but Roman Catholics. Still sorting out that legend too.

Anecdotally, Baron von Fischerbach's son Adam was said to have received the invitation, but that seems unlikely due to the fact that William Penn was stricken with a paralysis and deprived of his memory in 1708 and suffered a stroke in 1712, and Adam Fisher was not born until 1710. Perhaps his father the Baron received the invitation, but there is no evidence to support this. Just my thoughts.

My father's side has more specific tribal information. "Black John" Daniel Swindle, b. 1780 no DOD known, was said to have been Cherokee. That would have made his mother, Elizabeth Utz, the Cherokee connection but there's some information that she may have been German. Was Black John adopted perhaps? *another happy sigh* I love genealogy challenges...

As the birthdates and physical features speak, it seems like the Lamb First Nation connection may be closer to me now.

This time of year, the woods call to me through my First Nation ancestors. One thing my ex (whose maternal grandmother was full Cherokee) and I shared was love of the woods. He and I would drive to Cherokee, North Carolina, every year about now for time alone in the woods. I know how he's feeling about now. Scroll down a little ways in the Wiki article above about the Cherokee People to the photograph of the older man named Swimmer, put eyeglasses on him, and that could be my ex. :) No idea if they're actually related.

Anyhow...

No trip into the deep green, red, and gold places of the earth for me this year. I've got a new vegetarian recipe though, my version of the Three Sisters corn, squash, and beans. It isn't authentic in that it calls for olive oil (lack of fats in native First Nation diets was a serious health issue) but it's simple, delicious and will give you three servings of vegetables at one whack if you have it as a meal-in-itself. Have a nice piece of cheese and some grapes for dessert.

Check here for the recipe, posted on my other blog Sparkling With Crystals.

I felt like I should explain why I often refer to the Earth as my Mother. My Christian readers have wondered, hopefully. :) My natural mother frequently looks to the land to provide what she needs for free--always has, and she taught us to as well. Referring to the Earth as my Mother is not a non-Christian thing for me but rather an ancestral nod. I AM is my Father and He created the Earth. What a sign of His true love to have given to us such a wonderful planet that can give us what we need, for free.

Like many people, I'm an odd mishmash of cultures, sometimes clashing cultures. I cherish my ancestry and will research it until I can find no other "he married...she married..." to trace.

So sit down, Grandson or Granddaughter, have some of the Three Sisters hot from the stove, and tell me what I can do for you?

The Shining Knight of Smoke

I
In a Castle underground,
Lived a knight of great renown.
Known for deeds of manly strength,
Done for love of man.

And he would laugh in the moonlight,
Sing in the dark,
Ride through the starlight,
Swiftly, 'til he

Reached his Castle, cold and grey,
The Shining Knight of Smoke.

II
In the Castle with him lived
Stately Jester, deeply hid,
Under miles of granite will,
Safe to make his rhymes.

And he would laugh in the moonlight,
Sing in the dark,
Write in the dawnlight,
Swiftly, 'til he'd

Conjured monsters for his lord,
The Shining Knight of Smoke.


II
From a castle in the sky,
Came a Spectre, weary-eyed.
Through with seeing, face to face,
Deux ex machina.

And so she rode through the darkness,
Cursing the night,
Tripping and falling,
'Til a voice from

Earthward broke the spell and said,
"Behold the Knight of Smoke."

And then they rode through the moonlight,
Lord and Ghost,
Down to the Castle,
When the Jester

Saw them coming, lit a fire,
and filled the night with smoke.

(c) 1983 Cordia Enterprises USA


Lyrics of a song I wrote in 1981 and copyrighted in my Collected Works in 1983. The full song became part of a term paper for one of my university English classes. It's one of Libchik's favorites.

Angel of Autumn

Just wanted to share this pic from my back yard.

Does the cloud sorta look like angel wings with a halo? Does to me. :)

I hope my next column will be about a theory of why all major cultures around the world commemorate death at the end of October and the beginning of November--Halloween, All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day here in the US. I read about this theory in a book about the mythical lost Atlantis. Fascinating, just fascinating.

It's Raining, It's Pouring...

It's raining,
It's pouring,
My love life is boring me to tears,
After all these years.

No sunshine,
No moonlight,
No stardust,
No sign of romance..."

Barbra Streisand, No More Tears
Songwriters: Roberts, Bruce; Jabara, Paul


It's my own fault, you know--that my love life is boring. I'm not doing anything about it. If nothing is what you do, nothing is what get's accomplished...

Right now, it's pouring rain outside. Lovely, cool, sweet rain, making the grass wet and the trees drip. I love water. I love rain.

I'm grateful for the rain. It has been so, so dry and bright and hot. No real cool weather in sight yet but Aikichik and I are ready for it. Libchick says that even she is ready for cool weather and that's a shock. She wears sweaters and hoodies in the heat of summer.

Had to reset the Meniere's ticker because of the storms so I thought I'd share my mood whilst I was here.


"No more tears,
No more tears,
No more tears.

I've had it.
I've had it.
You've had it.
She's had it.
No more tears..."

Please don't do this--there's a better way: Tons of drugs dumped into wastewater.

AP Impact: Tons of drugs dumped into wastewater

Do you have any idea what you're drinking when you turn on the tap? Other peoples' drugs, probably.

There are other ways to handle drugs you may have that you don't want to keep--like expired over-the-counter meds, prescriptions that you will no longer continue to take--carry them back to the pharmacy where you bought them. Or, carry them to any pharmacy if you're not near the one where you made the purchase.

Pharmacies have 'safe return' procedures to take back unused meds. They do not flush them into the water system.

Our bodies are 2/3rds water. Please, for the present and the future, take your unused meds back to a pharmacy. Please don't flush them.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Water is precious. These dumped drugs will eventually end up in the ocean. As goes the sea, so go we.

Dust you are, to dust you shall return...

"Dust you are, to dust you shall return. Repent! And believe in the Gospel!"
Formula for Imposition of Ashes

"All things are lawful unto me, but all things are not expedient: all things are lawful for me, but I will not be brought under the power of any." I Corinthians 6:12 KJV

Full-moon mead, or "Primarily, you can never be too clean or too oxygenated."

Wanna know how much better crystals and Donna Eden's energy exercises have made me feel?

Look what I did today!

Two batches of mead, made today on the full moon so that the yeast would be as active and healthy as possible. This is enough to last me for an entire year at the slow rate I drink it.

The one on the left has a whole orange cut into eighths and the one on the right is just the zest of an orange removed with a vegetable peeler and the orange supremes. And juice from said dissecting of oranges.

The one on the left has whole cloves, a whole allspice, a cinnamon stick, and a chunk of whole nutmeg. The one on the right has all that plus 1/3 of a vanilla bean.

Ooooo what a fine meading time will be had by all come Christmas!

My mother crocheted that tablecloth. I'd love to do a whole special on my mother's crochet work and quilts. They're amazing, to me at least.

One down side to the full moon is that without fail, I get a migraine. Right now, migraine aura lights are flashing like camera bulbs in my field of vision. I've got a dull ache that will only escalate unless I do something.

Here is a poem I wrote last April before my father died in May. Nothing special about this one. XD

This is What Life's Meant to Be

Beloved:
Migraine’s blowing up my head,
Throwing up inside the bed,
Daddy’s dying way downstairs,
Migraine does not give a care.

I have Job’s friends for my own,
Never miss a zinger known.
They’re impatient for my doom,
Eying things inside my room.

I can’t even reach a drink,
Medicine’s beside the sink,
No more covers on the bed,
Now my face is turning red.

“May I take your picture dear?”
Can’t believe that’s what I hear,
Mother wants the world to see,
What her daughter’s come to be.

No more reason left to live,
No more love in me to give,
Let me die, just let me be
This is what life’s meant to be.

Lover:
Darling, Daddy’s very old,
He’s got cancer, truth be told,
I will change your bedclothes now,
See? Bed’s all fresh from stern to bow.

You have ditched your evil friend,
Water’s gone around the bend,
Here’s a glass of nice cool drink,
Will you need an ice pack, think?

Here’s your medicine and mask,
Closed the blinds before you asked,
By the way, the mail is here,
Disability’s been cleared.

Soon I’ll lay you down with me,
Then we’ll see what love can be,
Close your eyes and smile for me,
This is what life’s meant to be.

Son-of-an Oskaar Cyser!

Mead...

*note to self: need a couple more size 6 1/2 drilled stoppers...hee!*

The lemon-date-cinnamon mead has been racked! And it is good!

Son-of-an-Oskaar Cyser, named for the famous Gotmead.com mazer who helped me make this baby, is finally into aging bottles. It has been sitting in the secondary fermenter for a LONG time, but this goes to show that a good recipe and quality ingredients make for well-aging mead.

Ooo but it does smell like heaven! Slightly lemony-y and VERY cinnamon-y, honey-sweet, rich, and ready to drink--needs no more aging. Gone is the astringent dryness and yeasty smell (aging solves many things). Smooth and VERY alcoholic (how are these meads of mine ending up with so much alcohol??) (wish I had thought to take measurements so I could tell you how much but OH WELL), the dryness from the last tasting smoothed out now and is just right for my taste.

Mead is frequently made one gallon at a time. I haven't yet gotten a batch that has lasted long enough to make bottling worth the effort. I just rack from the secondary fermenter into sanitized Martinelli apple juice bottles and slap an airlock on'em. This batch was a two-gallon endeavour though and netted three bottles and some. Libchik and I ('I' mostly) dispatched the 'some' since I ran out of stoppers. Mead does share with other fermented beverages the requirement to be kept away from oxygen once the primary fermentation has been accomplished. Without a stopper and an airlock(most meads have some tiny residual yeasties that will continue to produce carbon dioxide unless chemically stabilized--no chemicals in my mead, so the airlock is important to keep the stopper from popping out), you'll shortly have an undrinkable waste of good honey.

I love mead.

Time to make another batch. It'll be a few days before I'll be up to it. By a cruel twist of the lemon of fate, I can't drink but a glass or two at a time and not every day at that without ending up wishing I'd not had any. I had four glasses last night--Libchik really doesn't drink to speak of and I couldn't let it go to waste. First mead I've had since April.

I've got everything I need to make another batch of Joe's Ancient Orange Mead except for a nice fresh orange so I may make that. Actually, I've got quite a lot of honey here so I guess I could make just about any recipe. I WANT BUCKWHEAT HONEY!! I've got ten pounds of tupelo and even killer bee honey, but no buckwheat.

Crystals and Donna Eden's energy exercises have really made me feel better between attacks of migraine and Meniere's, better enough that I was able to get this mead racked in short order after this allergic reaction last Friday. Mead is forgiving, too. After racking out of the primary, it can sit very quietly in a nice dark place, yeast slowly munching honey sugar, for many weeks and months without being any worse for wear. It will wait until I feel better.

Mead...breakfast of Champions. Check out Gotmead.com and say hello to Vicky the webmistress. If you want to learn the art of meadmaking, check out The Compleat Meadmaker by Ken Schramm. No finer book out there for meadmaking. And be kind to bees. Consider calling a beekeeper to get them out of your walls instead of an exterminator. As go the bees, so go we.

Now, to settle on which batch to make next...

The Best of..."Marital Intimacy or Touching the Face of God"

The Carmelite’s Habit will return in August. Enjoy The Best Of the Carmelite’s Habit until then!

Originally posted December 5, 2007.

************************************************************************************

Marital Intimacy or Touching the Face of God

One thing I’ve discovered in rearing my two offspring is that modern society has made sex into a topic not to be discussed with one’s parents.

Never talk about sex with your folks! Society tells young people these days. They’ll think you’re ‘doing it’ and you’ll get lectures and pamphlets and books and all kinds of things and you’ll wish you’d kept your mouth shut! They’ll take you to Planned Parenthood and put you on the Pill and buy you Trojans! Just keep quiet around the Folks. Sex is for watching on TV and the internet and doing in secret. Talk about it with your friends, but never, ever talk about it with your Folks.

Now, that’s just plain sad.

I made a firm decision, when my first child was born, that there would be no topic I would not discuss with my children. I determined that I would be open to any subject, at any reasonable time, and would not jump to conclusions about anything they told me. I made up my mind that I would steel myself and not turn away from any subject, no matter what it was, no matter how private or taboo or normally uncomfortable that subject were to be. Never have I been more glad about such a decision.

We’ve talked about all sorts of things, my offspring and I. We’ve covered ground I never would have dreamed of setting foot upon with my parents. I felt humbled one day recently when Elder Assistant Offspring told me that her friends were envious that she was able to tell her mother anything. She said that! And she does, she does.

Now, Elder Offspring’s friends are starting to get married, and are beginning to talk amongst themselves about that most wonderful of all topics, married sex. Poor baby of mine! Of course she understands of the mechanics and such, and that’s not what her questions are about. She doesn’t want to hear about what she’s missing from them until she hears about it first from me!

So for the last several weeks, I’ve been pondering over marital intimacy. And I began missing it too, which has surprised me tremendously. I guess I just thought I’d get divorced and the normal rhythm of a married human female’s life would leave me forever too and I’d be ok. He and I had many problems, insurmountable problems, but sex was not one of them.

I believe that making the rest of this as non-specific as I can make it will spare embarrassment. I don’t want to embarrass anyone at all. The whole point of this discussion is to share with my girls something of the sacredness of married intimacy. I heard a speaker say once that the reason married sex happens behind closed doors isn’t because it is shameful, but because it is sacred. Sex within a sacramental marriage will allow you to touch the Face of God. Think that’s not so? You haven’t yet touched the Face of God.


Letter to My Children

Dear, beloved Child,

Today, you stand ready to begin a new life. Today is your wedding day. You’ve asked me about marital intimacy, to talk with you about it, to prepare you for what is to come. You already know about how human bodies operate, so no need to go there. And your questions aren’t really about the mechanics of sex, as you told me.

You will soon begin a new way of viewing yourself and your husband. You cannot now know this new vision, until the Sacrament of Matrimony has been celebrated. Never mind previous indiscretions and failures, temptations and the like. The Sacrament will change you even if you cannot feel it. All things will begin anew.

I suppose the first thing about marital intimacy that I remember is that it always told me every day when that day was over. It told me when the argument had ended, when the discussion was finished, when to stop talking, when to be quiet. I’m the original jabber wocky, as you well know, my dear! When we came together, sometimes it cut off my air supply. I had to stop talking!

That crush of his body each time would begin the changing of the rhythm of my own breathing to match his, and thus began the coming together.

Marital intimacy taught me many things, really. Patience. Many new ways to laugh at myself. It fulfilled its other mission and gave me five children, two of whom were born alive. Never, if I pondered it for the rest of my life, will I ever fully understand God’s love for us, that He allowed us sex as His way for us to participate with Him in the creation of new life. Sex, wonderful sex, beautiful sex, glorious sex, new life, and nine months later a baby! Conception didn’t occur every time, of course. But it did five times, and two new beings came alive into this earth, you and your sister.

Intimacy taught me to submit to him, submission being utterly outside my nature. After the troubles of my years I swore I would never submit to any man, ever, ever, ever.

But chaste marital intimacy, practiced correctly, means that your husband loves you like Christ loved the Church and would be willing to lay down his life for it, as Christ did. That love and tenderness in time comes to win over some very headstrong women. There is almost no way to escape it!

And what woman would not want to submit to such Love? In that context, to submit to him in intimacy means to give yourself over to–well, yes, I remember. You will soon long to submit to him, as he will long for it too.

To submit during marital intimacy in a sacramental marriage means to give yourself over to the true owner of your body, your husband. Correctly, the true owner of your body wants your body to feel as good as it possibly can, as you will want his body (of which you are the true owner) to feel as good as it possibly can.

By my submission, I gave him my body to do with as he correctly should. I was not there as a slave, or a toy, or a lust object, but the other half of himself. Would he mistreat himself?

Marital intimacy also taught me something else, something so far outside my nature once again, I can no longer even see it from here now: to obey him.

How well I remember how I would feel when, in ecstatic obedience, I would submit to him taking my head in his hands, and moving my lips where he wanted them to be, like a slow dance of computer mouse, doing what he told me to, how he told me to. Obeying his maneuvers, his will was mine.

Obeying also meant that he obeyed the machinations of my body, in its rhythm and progress, day by day. Receiving him in obedience when he knew I needed it and not refusing without good reason, hearing him when there was no good reason not to obey, will over time build a secure wall around you two, where you can be together alone, and reach that sacred ground where as one, you will meet God.

The rest, my dear child, is for you and your husband to learn about together. That is the way God intended it.

May God bless you and your husband with many, many years of intimacy so sacred, and so beautiful, that you both learn the shape of God’s whole Face through the touch of your hands.

Love, your own Mother
Who hopes you’ll always find something to tell her about

The Best Of..."Closing Time or the Fairy Tale of Aeria and the Bouncer"

The Carmelite’s Habit will return in August. Enjoy The Best Of the Carmelite’s Habit until then!

Originally published October, 2007.

*************************************************************************************

Closing Time or The Fairy Tale of Areia and the Bouncer

Lyrics in italics come from Semisonic's "Closing Time" and "Gone to the Movies" from their album Feeling Strangely Fine


Closing time,
Open all the doors and
Let you out into the world.
Closing time,
Turn all of the lights on over
Every boy and every girl.
Closing time,
One last call for alcohol,
So finish your whiskey or beer.
Closing time,
You don't have to go home
But you can stay here...


The house lights are on now. The cigarettes have all been stubbed out and the smoke is slowly filtering out through the A/C.

The bartenders are counting tips. The band is flipping switches, casing their strings, boxing up the mics. Everyone is tired, already thinking of beds, and mates, and their own whiskeys and beer.

Only two people are still, the last two patrons in the club.

They sat opposite each other at their table. They never took their eyes or their attention away from each other.

This was it. A last date. A last assignation. A final meeting, a trick not in the contract, not planned, but not unexpected now that the end had come.

He was thinking, never saying a word.

I couldn't make it work. I just couldn't make it work. Not from the beginning, I couldn't make it work. I did everything right: the right words, the right touches, the right unspoken feelings, and just the right sex for this mustang that should have broken her, body and soul.

I had the power, I had the right friends in the highest of the lowly places, they called on all the power they had too. But I was never able to made it work. He stubbed out his last cigarette half-smoked and turned his head to glare into space in incandescent anger and intensifying fear.

She watched him think, with thoughts of her own.

He just wasn't God. He tried, but he just wasn't. He tried his damnedest, yes he did. He had his friend shoot me in the heart, he plied me with all the right things–comfort, affection, attention. He even sent his friend to do what he could not: break me with the firm hand of passion that I crave. But it didn't work. None of if worked. The craving for the firm hand is still with me–as it was, so is it still. He just wasn't God.

She downed the last swallow of her rum and coke, and rose to leave. She took two steps and he tackled her, screaming in terror.

"Stop, damn you, I still owe for you! You are the payment, you are the barter, stay-here-now!!" He screamed. He was astride her, his arms flailing. He managed only one good blow to yank something from her heart before the Bouncer descended.

"Break it up, buddy. You're leaving, and not with her," he said. The Bouncer picked him up by his shirt collar and belt, carried him to the door, and tossed him out still holding the ball of red laser energy of his hatred from her heart. He was still screaming, screaming in terror now of what waited in the darkness for him. He must either have payment, or provide payment. And they were waiting for him.

The Bouncer closed the door and locked it.

"Here's a hand," he said to her. He knelt beside her. She was shaking hysterically, hands pressed to her face to shield herself from the demonic terror she saw in that man's eyes. How had she blocked herself from ever seeing it before? Areia had told her she would eventually see it, yes she had.

Areia had told her what was happening. Areia was wise and she knew about these things. She had warned her all about beings like him, what they were really after. Not sex, not something so mundane as that. Not merely domination, although that was part of it. Not solely as a trophy either, although what a notch in any malefactor's staff she would have made indeed. To be a Christian woman turned to his will, that was to be her fate. A devout Christian woman at that, one with Property of the Almighty stamped on her. Areia had told her that he and his friend would be salivating at the thought.

Areia wasn't from around here. She was a spiritual being first and foremost, and hers was a land of soft speech, mystical ways and ways of old, long forgotten except by the Elders such as Areia. Areia knew the old manipulations to teach her, and she had been an obedient student. God must truly love me to send Areia to me, she thought. She was grateful, and she would never forget.

And she had done everything that Areia had taught her. She cut him off, and cut him off again, and again, and again. She built walls around herself, she burned his letters, practiced until she learned how to see through his disguises. She did everything Areia told her to do. And it all worked, worked to perfection.

They were not scheduled to meet. He had gotten distracted, was all. He had another plan, one that would work this time. Why didn't he know, with all the powers he had, that she would be there?

She had known he would be there. She knew his every movement. Her empathic mind had automatically rebuilt him inside of herself like it had rebuilt many and it would be there forever. She merely had to dial up his emotional construct to know where he was, what he was wearing, what he had eaten for supper, the taste of the sweat on his brow.

She had known he would there. The end was near.


"Miss?" The Bouncer was shaking her shoulder. "Come on, I'll help you up. He's gone now."

She dusted off her hands and looked at the Bouncer. She couldn't say a word, but he understood. He squeezed her shoulder and smiled.

Suddenly she realized something was missing from inside her. A space, where something was supposed to be, was open within her. She clutched her chest. It hurt!

The Bouncer took her by both her shoulders and turned her to face him. She couldn't change her face away from pained confusion before this handsome man, man of strong arms and authority.

"He's gone to the movies now, and he's not coming back," the Bouncer told her. She clutched her chest tighter as the space in her heart stretched.

The Bouncer touched the hand clutching her heart. Power and healing flowed through into her heart. The pain stopped and peacefulness flooded throughout her. She couldn't speak in the presence of such magnificent healing.

"Have a great night," the Bouncer said and turned her toward to the door. Outside, the stars were bright and the moon was nowhere to be seen.

It was not until she was driving home, back to her real life, her new life, that she became aware that the open space in her heart was no longer empty.

She sent her sentient self into her heart, to find out what new devilry had beset her now. But she found no more devil, no more evil, no hatred, no horror.

What she did find were Areia and the Bouncer, beautiful, perfect emotional constructs of them both that would make them hers forever. Two Angels with their own forms of flaming swords, who had saved her from certain death.

Two life-debts, she thought and her face was wreathed in smiles of childlike wonderment. Indeed, life-debts for squaring, for a lifetime of delightful repayments. Closing time at last.

She sang all the way home,"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end..."