In answer to darsword and others. 🙂
Because I have gotten several questions in the last few days, the readings are from Chesca Potter’s and Mark Ryan’s first and best tarot deck in my opinion, The Greenwood Deck. This deck is no longer in print and Mark did a new one with Bill Worthington which while lovely does not have the magic of Chesca’s drawings for me.
No one currently knows where Chesca is, internet rumours of her going fundamentalist, not withstanding. She was a member of FOI for many years and was very well known and loved as a member but she did have some mental health problems. Not even her brother knows her current whereabouts and she may very well have passed the veil but no one knows. Her beautiful deck lives on. There were two websites dedicated to the Greenwood deck. One had Chesca’s interpretations and…
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I should be overjoyed at the moment. A number of good things have happened in the last few days but I’m really too sick to care. Some of my friends have dubbed this Happy Green Man Day and I can get behind that as he is the only god I am ordained to since the rest are goddesses, but I still am not wearing green lest it be misunderstood. I do, however have bright shiny orange hair elastics in because I don’t wear orange. Orange does not look good on excessively pale redheads or former redheads.
I just got attacked for not wearing green and the person was Philipina. I told her she could only pinch me if she was Irish, which had all the other non-Irish people upset when they heard it. One of the other ones said well, are you Irish? I told them my Scottish great-grandmother was born in Northern Ireland and they could just stop and anyway, I’m wearing orange socks and hair elastics, so they could just stop. This keeps up and there will be broken fingers.
Anyway, the first good news was the Goodreads win for a book I want to read quite badly
The next was that I discovered I had a thank you in the dedication to Caroline Wise’s new book on Elen as well as thanking our Hazelwood Grove. That felt good.
And last night I came home to an invitation to be one of the Arch Druid Union. There are only 33 spots world-wide and my Grove sister D is on it too. Two of the 33 spots belong to Lawrence Durdin-Robertson and Lady Olivia Robertson, two of the three founders of the Fellowship of Isis. Nice to be honoured in our world-wide community. http://mirrorofisis.freeyellow.com/id532.html http://www.fellowshipofisiscentral.com/fellowship-of-isis-foundation-union-triad
I think if I wasn’t so sick at the moment it would be a very big deal. It’s something I dreamed of but never thought any of the people I know besides Linda and Laura would ever be a part of.
Meanwhile on top of all the diagnostic testing I’ve been undergoing, I caught my sister’s cold. I almost never get colds, she has 3 or 4 to my one and this was the kind I dread. The kind that skip your nose and head straight for your chest. I was so sick I put myself to bed at 7 pm and passed out until morning but it wasn’t good sleep it was the kind where your fever breaks and makes you soaking wet and then goes right back up and repeats. Gross!
Anyway, I’m trying to look at the good but it’s something that is hard to do when you are coughing up parts of your lungs.
*This post was written in conjunction with the brilliant Phonaesthetica.
Hey, gals, guess what? This fourteen-year-old boy is a role model for YOU. Yep, you, full-grown-ass women. Meet Jazz Jennings, YOUR ROLE MODEL.
This weekend, we sat a spell to watch an OWN documentary all about our role model. We wanted to know more about this person that we (dykes aged thirty-eight and forty) should look to and strive to emulate.
What we learned is that Jazz Jennings is a kid who likes pink, dresses, makeup and flipping his shiny hair. Jazz is also a kid who refers to himself in third person. “I like being Jazz,” he says, as he reclines in a pink bed awash with plush animals.
Most of what Jazz says sounds forced, coached, even as he spouts off the ubiquitous tropes surrounding transgenderism: “I’m a girl trapped in a boy’s body” and “I…
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Art by Joanne Colbert
May I keep my mouth shut today and not tell people “pog mo thoin”. Let me allow ignorant non-Irish to pinch me and not punch them. Give me the inspiration and the grace to be a person of peace on this day celebrating a misogynistic, intolerant, old Scottish troll. Help me not be tempted to take the hammer of your forge to the unsuspecting heads of the annoying.
Lady, give me strength of character not bludgeon people with history and let them keep their drunken hysteria.
So mote it be! Lady, please give me peace.
Slainte mhath, h-uile latha, na chi ‘snach fhaic. Slainte!
Good health, every day, whether I see you or not. Health!………The Royal Scots Toast
This year and every year
Friday is the most problematic of holidays in our family. Mom got down right militant which for a severe passive-aggressive person was quite a feat. She used to wrap me up in orange scarves and make me carry an orange, WHY? because our Scots (or so they considered themselves) great-grandmother Mary Jane Reeves Cumming was born in Northern Ireland and so was an Orangeman. Why we would care to wear anything associated with the butcher of Scots, William of Orange besides the fact that we were raised Presbyterian I also found rather stupid but I don’t want to wear green either because the other side are butchers too. Part of which has to so with Robert the Bruce firing arrows at the Irish when they came to help him ( the mans was a stupid git and a coward to boot) and the rest not helped when the English dumped…
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