Dreaming of the Moon



Here we stand, between two pillars, bouncing back and forth like some ball in an archaic video game. For many years, culture has been dominated by the masculine paradigm. In a fragile attempt at fixing this, some of us have embraced the feminine, grasping desperately in a frantic embrace with Mother. Particularly within the Wiccan movement, the feminine is held sacred above all. Much of this has to do with the mythology accepted as fact created by Marija Gimbutas. Even today, archaeology struggles to show how Goddess worship was very much a part of our past, while battling with an overtly feminist paradigm which has twisted these facts into its own safe ideology. Unfortunately, for those of us who appreciate Truth, this has only disrupted fully accepting the Goddess along with the God, for those of us who recognize this eternal Truth have often been misled towards the other pillar.


It is well established that for centuries we have been dominated by the Patriarchal ideas. As a result, for the past four decades the witch craft movement and Feminism has attempted to bring back the Goddess. What this has led to is a culture where the Male is seen as the dominating force, and we have been breast fed beyond our years trying to fix the past. Part of the issue is that we only enforce the Male stereotypes. This was made clear during a recent Astrology workshop, in which Mars was mentioned and the attributes were asked to be described. Every single response was of war, battle, force, and anger. This is how we see the Male, as a tyrant, as that which we need to suppress. Of course, Venus was all beauty, love, and passion. None of these ideas are being dismissed outright, only recognizing they are only part of the equation. Mars is also Will and protector, while Venus is also emotional breakdowns and being caught up in our passions.

We must question any idea which is allowed access to the mainstream of America. All thoughts and ideas are carefully controlled by the media, and many articles and videos, such as Know Thyself which can be found on YouTube, elude to the idea that the government allows only certain New Age ideas to be in book stores and taught to the general public. Returning to the idea of trying to compensate for the past, particular writers are commonly seen within major book stores who discuss ideas of Goddess worship. Often, understandable anger about the past arises, and the Male is suppressed. What needs to be understood is that the Male is within us all, we are all the children of Earth Mother and Sky Father. Much of this dialogue has pushed Male's away from the witch craft movement and feminine, and in doing so we are only repeating the past. It is not mere fiction to say within a particular age group Female bodied creatures tend to behave in a domineering way amongst the Wiccan circles. Again, it is completely understand where this is coming from. What is happening though, and what has happened, is the idea of jumping back towards the other pillar, only to lose our balance on the other side. This follows along the idea of Newtons third law, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. While none of this comes anywhere close to the oppression of Womben everywhere, it is still nevertheless a gut reaction which, without being checked, could become a major issue in the future. True magic and witch craft is going beyond mere physics, and refusing to fall into the paradigm of simply being a reaction to the past. We must stand between the two pillars, balanced and stronger than ever.


In a very recent dream, in which the details have been lost, an elaborate ritual was done for the Moon and the Feminine. In this dream was a sense of loss, a sadness that this beautiful ritual did not have its equal in honour of the Male/Sun, so a part of the altar was taken (with respect, of course) in which to honour the Sun and Male as well. Essentially, this dreams teaching was the recognition that we are losing our love for the Male/Sun, our rituals are dry and of the intellect, and do not share in the beauty and passion of the Female/Moon.  Upon awaking, it was recognized how much of the Male and Sun worship we have lost. For way too long, we have had too much Sun, day, Male, and intellect worship. Now we struggle to connect with the Moon, the Feminine, our Goddess, and with this our compassion and emotion. With this though, we face the danger of getting lost in our emotions, Venus in detriment. Our passions are swelling up, and we have hundreds of years to learn from. Let us not make the same mistakes, and recognize that with tears in our eyes, to thank the Sun for bringing life, to thank the Sky for watering and watching over our Mother. The sword is sheathed.

This means nothing

Soon, it shall disappear. This is both a threnody and a blessing for birth. In this world is the weeping of the willows, a child's cries, an insignificant bug caught in a web, waiting to be a spiders dinner. Every moment that occurs is another tragedy, a mother losing her child, innocence stolen. We do not have the capacity for honouring all the sadness in the world. It happens so frequently, we block it out. Perhaps i only speak for my Self. Yet the i is of the world, so gnaw my tongue and spit it in my face, cross the neurons in the brain so they fire in a completely new way, tear my flesh so i may know your pain, so i may identify with you, if that is what it takes, if only in my complete anguish can you feel any relief. The love for Christ is sadism. Devotion to the passion is lavishly licking up the puddles of agony. No sacrifices will suffice, we have nothing to offer, i am not worthy, nor worthy of your love, of your devotion, of your respect. May my bones be cracked open upon death to release my spirit to the sky. I do not wish to make another turn in the wheel if they keep throwing stones. Make them stop, make them pause for a moment to reflect and acknowledge that it is you they devour. They are cannibals eating their own putrid flesh. Forgive them, they know knot and i shall knot forgive to know the eternal power. This compassion is slow suicide. These flowers bloom but once, and enter the realm of distorted memory. Her jaw is broken by a vision out of the corner of her eye. Stones form into shapes which allow comfort for those ready to return. A way exists we can escape her hand is being held out grasp the scratched nail polished bones and sing a hymn to bring back the bee's  hum. I asked for every moment of this. Thank you for granting my wish. Bring the crone this crow has done the murder. She shall wash the blood from my hands and bless them with the sands of time. I will return again to remember where she rests, kiss her pale cheek and pull the covers over her shoulders. May we all rest, and so it is done.

                     "May the Gods treat you more kindly than we did"

Initations and the inevitable fall.

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It is so incredibly fascinating, this whole thing. The mystery of it all, the potential and the tragedy. I've been sitting around for the last few days, wondering what exactly to write about. Perhaps in time, there shall be writings that are more academic. At times though, I just have to write, and if this is going to be completely honest, to a degree, it needs to be whatever it is that comes to mind. We hinder so much on true expression, on allowing ourselves the freedom to speak out minds. We are so afraid of getting hurt, the strange thing is though we will get hurt. Pain is unavoidable, it is a part of this existence, and it is a very real thing. We can not run from death or the hurt. So for me, part of my lessons have thus far been through pain. When studying the Runes, many of them came to me in very particular ways. While studying the alternative idea of Algiz, which is sedge-grass in the Younger Futhark (have read multiple things, some call it Anglo-Frisian, some just call it Anglo or Saxon), its pure meaning came to me upon falling off my bike. With my scrapes and bruises, I walked past sedge-grass alongside marshland,  reminded of the lesson of grasping things. If you hold onto anything, it is going to hurt.

Perhaps enlightenment is when we have no more lessons to learn. I have heard of the idea that dreams, which are very related to both mythology and to being teachers themselves, cease to exist when there is nothing more to learn. This very idea though shows a belief that it can all be completely definable, that we can fully understand every tangent of this existence. I dare all those who believe so to go out to the mountains by the Cle Elum river in the Cascades, and go near the top and look out on this Alpine landscape. Recognize how small we are next to the mountain. Go in the valley right by the river's source, which is fed by Scatter Creek, and witness a picturesque scene beyond attainable by the simplistic human imagination. On a star filled night, with no light pollution so far away from civilization, both mountains slant downwards on the left and right sides, framing the lake below and the Big Dipper above.

Walk up Scatter Creek, which has been carved from the glaciers that formed the Puget Sound, more moons ago than we can count.
We are so miniscule, so delicate, and so incredibly frightened.

No wonder we want to believe that we can know it all, That we can figure this whole thing out, all the mysteries, all the pain, all the passions and defeats and love songs and heart breaks.

This is so beyond us.

On a new show called Parenthood, which truly captures the tragedy of the modern family, who has only false wealth and a poverty of Spirit, a father tells his son how blessed he feels. He does not know if a God exists or what is out there, he has doubts that are obvious, just like we all do. I almost went to go see this Catholic writer talk today at a church in Lacey. Looking into him to see if it was a trip worth making between bus and bicycle, I read an interview where he said I know. He knows, he has it figured out. He may think he does, often we can fall into the trap, but it is not always an easy one to escape. Right now he is trapped with these ideas of claiming to know.

We all have our fundamentalism. We are human, creatures of egos, and I do not believe anyone is any more or any less of a Saint. Perhaps that does fit some Christ like idea, of God being all things. Sure, I can understand those terms, they are just language, I've also got no interest in following that path, it is just a thing to study. One of the greatest things I have ever done was forgive Christ for the people who have done wrongs based on this archetype/human/actually Son of God/Sun of the Universe/whatever Truth you choose. It reminds me of a Deathspell Omega interview, where they are talking about how the bible is just another book to study from. I choose to not let the Church control me, by recognizing they in regards to the connection with Rome are the issue, not the belief in Christ it/himself. I also was taken in by a local Church at an extremely young age, so I've seen the good side of it as well.

Recently I have been trying to study more of the Christian Mystics, just to gain other perspectives. Jacob Boehme's passion was incredible, but his quilt stifling. It felt that same way with Francis of Assissi. Parts of the book about him moved me to tears with its sheer beauty of words. Yet the ideas on having to convert Heathens, and this idea that life should not be enjoyed just does not fit my scheme of things. Sure, I never had critters jumping on my shoulder, at least not yet, but if that is because I eat chocolate and drink whine and enjoy amazing new music like Bon Iver, so be it.

This is where I'm stuck, recognizing that all this life is just a moment in time, a very short one at that, and fully accepting this while still being live. I grew up not wanting to see the sun rise. Lately I look forward to that process of decay. To witness the changes, the people who leave, the people who die, and the people I meet. It is difficult to not question if it is worth it, because no, it does not matter. None of this is nearly as important as we want to believe. It is also an opportunity that words can not express. Somewhere between this, I feel may be some aspect of the truth.

This all changes those during the times when life is just throwing one stone after another. A house being reconstructed while we are living in it, construction going on right by our heads, a beloved gone missing, a girl that came through like a hurricane and my heart went like a levee down in New Orleans, all these things can be crumbling. It is at these moments that I have to recognize, no their is not anyone here at all. Others will come by, be around for a moment, or years. But this is it, its just you, its just me, and I may love you with all my heart, but I can only be there as someone to try and empathize, to try and understand, and I will again and again, It is still up to you though, as it is up to me, to accept these moments in life, to know that all things change, anicca. The process of decay is the only truth of existence. Death is the only god, all others are aspects of death. It is death that is the ultimate truth though. All things will die, all things will fade into time, to be forgotten, an ephemeral memory.



Perhaps our ignorance is a courageous act. The understanding, the complete knowledge both on an intellectual and experiential level, is a terrifying knowledge. This understanding is a path to Ego Death, the quintessential Existential crisis. The complete realization that nothing we do or say truly matters is completely debilitating. What it comes down to is that none of us will ever be anything more than a temporary collection of energy that is here for but a moment. That is life itself, and most of us can understand on a basic level that this follows along the same lines as works such as Be Here Now and various ideas on living in the moment. This is the other side of the same coin, the joyous diving into every second, every experience. This is the hope that predates the crisis, the terrifying leap into the unknown. Between these two poles, similar to the idea of the Kabbalistic tree or any basic Left/Right, Male/Female dualistic perspectives, is where we exist.

We are so terrified of Death, yet we are living Death every moment. Death is the process that permeates every act, it is the scythe constantly cutting off our heads, as depicted in the Tarot, it is the need, or Naudiz, of Jera, the Runic knowledge of cycles. It is Life itself, and this is a bitter irony. Autumn is not merely a change of seasons, it is a change within, and when we are in Spring, both the season or at that point in our life, the time of Autumn is still in our minds. We know at every pleasant moment that this will end.


I can comprehend the basis of Buddhist teachings. None of this changes reality though. Right now I am typing this with the power in my home indefinitely out. The construction going on, this situation, is a real thing. I do not believe this is the best of all possible worlds. Nor do i believe it is the worse of all possible worlds. It is the world we live in, nothing more, and nothing less. This world has moments of bloom, of new love, of new chances. At the same time, it has moments of blood, of anguish, of misery. Both these things have the same truth, and both are continuous. Our reality, the full horror of the world we live in, all the murder and rape and lies, is a real thing. The jaws of Nature will devour us, and this is not to imply some battle, only the cruelty of all life. This is as good as it gets, there will be no future paradise, no utopian society. We have infinite potential, yet little of this will manifest. It is your choice to either accept, or live in disappointment, as it is mine.

And in the end, so what? We really are not all that important, as disappointing as that may sound. We, in comparison to how old the world is, are here for but a moment. So you will suffer, as all things do. Cruelty is at the heart of joy. All things pass, all things change, all things end, none of this is a new idea revealed to the world. None of it really matters, which is not to say it is hopeless, instead hopeful, knowing that hope is just a tool we use to justify the means. It serves a purpose, as irrelevant as it may be. My attempt is to find a way to neither exist in despair, or some state of bliss. Simply to be aware, and accept, which is neither being lost in the cruelty of being or escaping into the joys of love. How to live this life, without doing either one, this I do not know.