Still here

My last post, admittedy, was four months ago. There’s a reason for that, but since I haven’t been talking about it much in public, let me catch up here, so that we can then move onto more interesting subjects.

January 2009: I began a term as the interim librarian at the same school I’ve been at as an assistant. They hired me formally (after the full and sometimes nervewracking search process) in April.

Summer 2009: I was in and out of work a lot, even though I’m supposed to be mostly off between mid-June and mid-August. The rest of the time, I was helping a dear friend who was having hip replacmeent surgery to repair damage from an injury 43 years earlier. (She’s got some other medical issues, including hearing loss, that made us want to have someone with her all the time, while she was in hospital or the rehab center.) Good thing to do, but tiring.

And over the summer, the dear friend who co-founded Phoenix Song with me decided she needed to be going in other directions. Which I understand, and I want her to be happy – but I still miss that particular interaction, even though we continue to be friends.

This fall: I start work for the school year by moving (with the help of my excellent minion and a wonderful student) every single book, video, and DVD in the library – about 14,000 items – at least twice. (We moved *every* shelf location as part of rearranging various things and had to move many things to a holding location first.)

I do my best to settle into making the library space as much mine as I can, to develop my own style of being a librarian and building relationships with individual students better, and so on and so forth. And, of course, all the things you do when you’re an education professional and it’s the beginning of the new year – new students, a few new staff, new directions in curriculum.

And things start to go slowly downhill.

At first I thought I was just tired. You know, the way you are when you’ve been working 50 and 60 hour weeks consistently, and you know you’re doing a lot of new things. The way you are when you’re an introvert working in an extroverted role (and for more challenge, with a very extroverted division director/boss).The way you are when you’re doing some things you’re very comfortable with – but some that are very new or really not using your best innate skills.

And then I got H1N1 in early November. And so then I thought it was recovery from that.

But then it got to be Thanksgiving, and I felt just as lousy at the end of a 5 day break as I did at the beginning – despite doing nothing much other than sleep with a brief outing to a friend’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. And I was really starting to lose my ability to think straight.

I went into work that Monday, said “There’s something really wrong” and began a round of doctor visits and other excitement. I spent the better part of two months only barely function at the most basic level. There were a couple of weeks where my focus was so poor that even reading light fiction wasn’t working (and this is me, who normally reads 25 books or so most months, not including online reading.)

And around it all, absolutely overwhelming exhaustion. Not the comfortably tired after a long day, or even the achy tired after moving or spending all day on your feet. I’ve done those. This was the kind of exhaustion that made every movement five times more effort than usual, and made even the simple normal stuff – making dinner, having a bath – take forever, and leave me unable to do anything else.

And even the things I’ve always taken for granted got hard. I’m the one of my friends who usually drives to see everyone – and light intolerance when driving at night (plus the exhaustion) made that impossible. Even simple decision making – which thing do I do first, what do I need to do to make this thing happen – got impossible.

All of it very strongly shook my  sense of self, my sense of connection to the world around me, and my sense of priorities and what mattered.

Fortunately, it’s getting better:

In late January, I saw an endocrinologist, and got a diagnosis of a significant Vitamin D deficiency and possibly hypothyroid issues. (My tests on the latter are borderline, but he was willing to try treating it given the full list of symptoms, which I’m not boring you with here.)

A month later, and I can work a full day and not be totally wiped out at the end of it. Detailed tracking shows that the focus is getting better, as are other symptoms. I’m finally starting to get my brain back, and becoming able to write again. Very nice.

It’s still not perfect. I’m not sure how much more I’m going to get back yet, and that means there’s a lot of free-floating trying to figure out how to cope going on in the back of my head. I’m committed to the coven work (and to my very tolerant student who’s put up with my inability to plan much in advance for a couple of months), but I want to build a sustainable life that includes work I love (and that pays the bills – both important), ritual and religious time, time with friends – and time and energy for projects at home.

I’ll talk more about all of this in the coming weeks, I’m sure. But I wanted to at least get the explanation out here first, so I can get onto the more interesting bits sooner than later.

We talk about how priestesses and priests in our traditions are human – but there’s not enough talk, yet, I think, about how to manage chronic medical issues in a way that’s sustainable and caring. And that’s something I definitely want to talk about – balancing my expectations of myself, my interaction in the broader community, and how to juggle ritual tasks when there’s no one else trained in the tradition to lean on directly in ritual, for example. I think there are solutions and options, and I’m sure there are more I haven’t thought of yet, too.

The question of safety: part two, planning and running an event

As promised, here’s part two of my post on ritual safety from the organiser/priestess/etc. point of view, (part one, focusing on the participant point of view is over here.) I should note my experience here: besides priestessing for various and assorted rituals over the past few years, I’ve also been on our local Pagan Pride board for the last three years. Situations of concern have been very limited in both places (a few people feeling faint, a few times someone had trouble coming back from meditation, etc. over the course of at least 100 rituals) and I think that a lot of that is due to thoughtful planning and awareness. That said, I haven’t seen everything, and I definitely welcome other thoughts and suggestions in comments.

Continue reading

The question of safety

Today, I’d like to talk about ritual safety. And there’s a particular reason I want to talk about this. Many people reading are probably already aware of the deaths of three people due to an extremely dangerous sweat lodge set up at a New Age training in Sedona run by James Ray.

One of my favorite blogs, Making Light, posted a fantastic analysis of many of the issues involved (practical, philosophical, and everything in between). One reason I was so glad to see a detailed post go up there, however, was because another of that blog’s contributors, Jim Macdonald, is (besides being a SF author) a wilderness EMT who’s been doing a long series of occasional posts about various medical calamities. One of the things both writers do a great job of is showing others what people can do that’s actually helpful in avoiding crises when possible, spotting problems early, and giving the best possible chance for the best outcome if they still happen.

The comment threads on Making Light run long (hundreds of comments are pretty common), but I encourage taking the time to read them: the community culture (and some clear moderation when needed) keep them very useful, coherent, and meaningful (even the thread-drift is handy). In this case, there are more links to supporting information and a great discussion of other ritual and spiritual safety issues throughout. (There is also a great thread on the Pagan news blog, The Wild Hunt that’s worth reading)

However, all of this got me thinking about issues of ritual safety in the Pagan community, and I thought it might be useful to put some of my thoughts into electrons. Continue reading


Today, I am thirty-four.

Today, some celebrate Mabon, the second harvest festival. So do I, though I prefer the name Harvest Home, these days. A day of bringing in the fruit of our work, of celebrating our labor.

Today is also the second in my personal string of new years. There is the beginning of school: the beginning of a cycle every year of my life since I was born in some way: as the child of a professor, as a student myself, or as someone working in education.

Today is my birthday: the day when night and day balance, when the days truly seem shorter, when my desire to come home and nest and reflect in the quiet competes with the growing work of the school year. They are both good, both necessary, and they continue to dance in their own helix until June. And following that, there comes Samhain (the pause before the dawning sun of Midwinter and a new cycle of potential) and the calendar’s New Year.

And I am reminded, always, of my birthday’s place, falling as it sometimes does between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Neither are my celebrations, but they were the celebrations of some of my ancestors, in the not too distant past. A time to reflect on the things I’ve regretted, as well as walking forward into the new year of blessing and potential.

Continue reading

The question of ‘sending energy’

I’ve been in discussion in the last day with someone who asked others to send energy on 9/11 to help solve problems in the Middle East. And I realised why these requests bother me (and why I don’t do things that way).

In short: I think that a vague general ‘send energy to help really big vague cause’ is equivalent to walking to a lake, pouring in a cup of water, and expecting it to end a drought. If just a few people do it, you don’t get very far. But even if a thousand or a million people do it – you might have some more water in the lake, but you still have a drought. You haven’t solved the underlying problem. Instead, you have a bunch of people who’ve spent time and energy doing one thing – and so couldn’t spend that time and energy doing something that would have a more direct benefit on the world. (Our time, and the number of things we can do in that time, is a finite number, of course.)

As I said in reply to this particular discussion, I think it’s a lot more useful to focus on the things I most directly affect.

This has guided me to work in education (where adults can have a lot of influence on the next generation – both directly with the students they work with, and more broadly as those students grow up and talk to other people.) But you can also have a substantial effect through volunteer work in the local community – or just plain conversations with family and friends about the issues that concern you.

One of the things I like about this approach that you get direct feedback – when the energy you’re pouring out is personal and close to home – about how well it’s working. You can see a direct change in the world around you (or not) and adjust what you’re doing until it’s the change you want. That goes whether you’re sending out energy, or doing physical tasks.

I’ll give one recent example: over the summer, I rearranged my library. (My, in the sense that it’s the one I’m responsible for, as a teacher librarian at a school.) I wanted to create a more intentional sense of space use, and to avoid a couple of ongoing issues. That’s a physical action – but it’s rooted in a desire to change the energy of the place, and to direct the kinds of intentional work I want there (things that are a lot more fuzzy and indirect.)

And yet, despite those things being indirect, I’ve had *many* comments (from both faculty and students) about how much they love the new space. Not from everyone, of course. (A few students have been put out that the corner I can’t see from my desk no longer has tables, and instead has shelving). But in general, people have been very enthusiastic – and more to that, the noise levels and traffic patterns have worked out the way I hoped. (Lots of quiet conversations, but not tons of people being purely social, or distracting others.)

But I also recognise, that at this point in the school year, I don’t have a lot of ‘spare’ energy. I’ve been working 50 and 55 hour weeks. I’m still getting my sleep schedule down so that I get enough sleep before I wake up at 5:30. I’ve been coming home tired, with my brain full, and my energy at low ebb – because I’m spending a lot of my energy and attention getting my work year off to the best possible start, and doing my best to support the students and faculty I work with.

That leaves very little energy left to send out vaguely with no particular direction.

And doing so, in fact, makes me wary. Besides the fact that I don’t actually thing it’s terribly effective, one of my first jobs as a priestess is to take care of myself – because no one’s going to do it for me. It’s up to me to make sure I eat a sensible diet and get enough sleep. It’s up to me to get some exercise in there. And it’s up to me to make sure I don’t drain myself to the point of uselessness unless it’s truly a critical need.

The past few weeks, I’ve been able to do a good job at work (though I find my concentration disappearing rapidly at the end of the day sometimes, no matter how much I try to get it back.) I’ve been able to keep my home mostly clean (though I have some cleaning to do today.) I’ve been able to check in with friends and have some enjoyable social time.

But I also know I need to take care of myself, or I won’t be able to do all of that next week. And the week after. And so on. (And I have some things – like our upcoming Pagan Pride weekend – that are going to demand more and more energy from me between now and the event in early October.)

And I’m also aware of some other things. H1N1 has started going around at the school I work at (and as a librarian, I’m particularly prone to exposure.) Exhaustion does a number on your immune system. That long-term management of chronic conditions (asthma and migraines) means I need to be extra careful not to drain my reserves (especially in the fall, which is my worst season for allergies.) And I need to balance the shielding and personal energy management that being around a lot of teenagers with strong emotions tends to require for me.

Which means that “send general energy to a vague cause” is not only not high on my list of things to do, it’s not even on the list at all. It almost never is, unless I’m in a situation where I actually have excess energy (and the attention and time to direct it properly) which .. well, rarely happens. A couple of times a year, maybe.

Instead, I’m going to keep doing the stuff that’s closer to me, that I can see a direct impact in, so that I can use my energy, my focus, my attention, my time in a way that has as much impact as possible. And where I can adjust and refine what I’m doing so that it’s as effective as possible. I certainly continue to do things like communicate desires to my elected officials, or to encourage and support places that produce greater understanding of people from other cultures or places on the planet. But most of what I do is closer to home, and those more distant things are things that have a clear direction, specific desire, and a well-defined goal.