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Author: Mud and Magic

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Published on 1 Comment on Broken connections, broken glass, broken trust

Shattered glass tumbler with the broken shards of glass lying alongside on a black background.
Shattered glass tumbler by freebie.photography is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

My spine and brain is a frayed electrical cord, short circuiting and sending confused messages to my body. I lose connection to parts of me; sometimes I look at my fingers and toes to make sure they are still there.

Broken connections to broken dishes: mixing bowls and glass measuring cups are the victims of my numb hands. I can no longer tell what's a normal fumble that could have happened to anyone and what's my confused nervous system. Every time I slosh wine, every time I drop my phone, every time I trip over nothing, I wonder.

Broken dishes to broken trust, as I don't know what to expect from my body anymore. Random surges of tingling, random muscle clenching, random weakness and tremors... my body is unpredictable and not in my control.

I have always believed in an embodied Paganism: a religion that doesn't deny the reality of being in possession of a body with needs and senses; a spirituality that acknowledges that we're animals and that we're natural beings; a faith that finds spirit and grace in the world instead of in the afterlife. But that was easier when my body was comfortable to inhabit. It was easier when I could trust my body.

This disease takes a lot from people. I won't let it take my Paganism, but some re-envisioning may be necessary to find perfect trust in my broken body.

Published on Leave a comment on The magic of vulnerability

A water-side city at sunset overlaid with the quote "Shared pain is lessened; shared joy, increased" by Spider Robinson I'm trying to write a speech today, which naturally means that I want to write anything other than my speech. To be fair, the speech is three-quarters written, but when you are sending people off on a 5 kilometre walk for charity, you really want to nail the ending.

In January of this year, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. With that came the understanding that my pain, numbness, and cognitive concerns were not temporary or easily fixed, so there were things I love that I was going to have to give up (for now, at least). I needed something else to focus on, to look forward to. The answer for me was the Vancouver MS Walk: something to physically train for and to work towards in other ways. I started my own bit of magic.

The spell was multifaceted, but the power came from one place: vulnerability. I wrote my story of illness and diagnosis for my blog on the MS Walk website, for my personal FaceBook, and for my coworking space's internal email list. Each part took a long time to write and hitting the publish/send buttons was scary every time. I knew people wanted to know what was going on - they asked me all the time about my limp, about my change from standing desk back to a chair, about my painstaking trips up and down stairs - but naming the cause makes it more real for me and for others.1 It made me feel exposed, but that's where the power came from.

I sent the stories out knowing that people would want to help me, but there's not much they can do for me personally, so I offered some directions for that energy: donate blood, since I no longer can; attend the walk or one of my fitness fundraising events; or donate money to my MS Walk fundraiser. I was touched and blessed by the amount of love that came my way, and I was amazed by the generosity of my family, my friends, my colleagues, and the members of my coworking space. Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised, as I am surrounded by people interested in community-building. I originally set my fundraising goal for $200, which I quickly had to increase, and increase again, and increase again. I was soon the top individual fundraiser for Vancouver's walk, and the MS Society of Canada took notice.

As a result, I find myself in the position of being "a MS Society of Canada's MS Walk 2018 spokesperson", according to the press release(!) going out tomorrow. I've already been in a local paper and on the provincial news, and there may be more media coverage at the walk on Sunday, May 27th. The speech I'm putting off finishing is to be given at the start of that event - the final part of my working.

Published on Leave a comment on A rant

Screenshot of the title of the "Rick's Rant" section of "The Rick Mercer Report".

I need an alley of graffiti art to passionately pace through, à la Rick Mercer. Picture that as you read, if you would.

I'm generally an "if it harm none, do whatever you want" person. If you want to invoke fairies and unicorns - more rainbow power to you. If you like to decorate with skulls and black candles - embrace your darkness. Tarot, crystals, herbs, fancy tools or a stick you picked off the sidewalk - have at them! Tree hugging, dancing naked around a fire, praying, fasting, meditating, elaborate ceremonial magic or a bit of kitchen witchery - go for it! Though I have a philosophical problem with the idea of weather magic, I don't actually believe that it is possible, so, you know, as you will...

Mediumship, though, is a crystal of a different cut. People who claim to speak to the beloved dead and pass on their words or let their voice come through them are performing a fraud we should not tolerate.

The memories of our loved ones - what they actually said and did, and who they were when they lived and loved - are precious. But if someone claims to speak to them, they feed us new memories and put new words in the mouths of those who aren't here. And that's not right.

If your beloved dead visit you, that may create new memories of them for you; I respect that. But no one else should be allowed to tread on the legacy of other people, especially not for fame or profit. What is remembered, lives - don't let anyone mess with your memories.

Published on Leave a comment on Trust me: you can trust them

Three white pillar candles sitting on a mirrorI was listening to a tech podcast this week that included an interview. The host kept asking these long questions that were basically stating the guest's entire findings or opinions ending with "does that sum it up correctly?" Luckily the guest was skilled at mining a topic to elaborate on out of those paragraphs; if they'd just taken the question as asked, it would have been all yes and no answers.

When I first started teaching a choreographed group fitness class, I thought I had to cue every movement. I was pausing the music between songs to demonstrate techniques and then filling the room with my instructions on mic over the music: "Double pulse; double tap; down and up; three more; and speed it up!" After a couple of years, I took an advanced class in this group fitness style, and it was a revelation how little had to be said to have people follow along just fine. Body language, big gestures, and a few key words here and there were enough.

For my day job, I attend an annual "unconference". An unconference is where the participants collectively create the schedule and both teach the sessions and learn from them. It takes some skilled coordinating done on the fly as participants propose topics, experienced unconferencers group topics to create sessions, sessions are voted on and scheduled, and then moderated. Multiple sessions are run concurrently and participants are encouraged to move between sessions as their interest is piqued. It works because people attend sessions they know a lot about and where they are ready to answer questions. It also works because people attend sessions they know nothing about and where they only have questions.

If you are wondering what all of this has to do with writing rituals, I trust you will figure it out.

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Published on 2 Comments on The spirit is willing, but the flesh is uncooperative

A woman sitting in a wheelchair smiling in front of a mountain vista. "Sedentarism is very much linked to consumerism, materialism, colonialism, and the destruction of the planet. If you're not moving, someone else is moving for you, either directly, or indirectly by making STUFF to make not moving easier on you. You were born into a sedentary culture, so 99.9 percent of your sedentary behaviours are flying under your radar. Start paying attention. What do you see?" - Katy Bowman, Movement Matters: Essays on Movement Science, Movement Ecology, and the Nature of Movement.

Every time I read it, my stomach clenches in the way that means that this is something important. I read the above quote on Boing Boing under the intriguing title "Your body has been outsourced". It pulls on my gut in many ways: as a fitness lover and a person interested in body positivity, as a person interested in protecting the environment, as a person who tries to think critically about capitalism and colonialism, and as a Pagan interested in embodied religion. I dug into Katy Bowman's blog with some trepidation, though, because I am now also a person with health conditions, one of which may prove to be profoundly life-altering.

At the end of 2016, I was a part-time fitness instructor going to the gym 4 or 5 days a week, who used a standing desk at work, and who commuted to and from my full-time day job and all over the city on my own two feet. At the end of 2017, I had given up my fitness class and my standing desk, I was working from home several days a week and commuting by bus when I had to go in, and waiting for my MRI results.

I think people should move, or not move, in ways they want to. Exercise is not a moral imperative; health isn't an obligation. And no matter how much we would like to pretend otherwise, health also isn't always in our control. Sometimes there isn't a choice to move or not move; your body chooses for you.

I curl up on myself, holding the parts of me that hurt, and know that I am privileged to get to sit for long periods every day with work, education, entertainment, and connection all delivered to me digitally, and sometimes food and other necessities ordered online and brought to my door. I am blessed that I can be sedentary; I try not to resent my body for needing so much stillness.

I feel the unfairness in my body.

I feel it in my numb and fumbling hands: I am outsourcing my personal labour when I choose to buy new socks rather than darn the ones I have.

I feel it in my aching shins: I am participating in environmental destruction when I choose to email my colleague instead of crossing the room to talk to her.

I feel it in the shocks that run down my arms: I am supporting the exploitation of people when I use one of my three portable phones instead of going to the phone in the kitchen.

I feel it in the brain fog and when I can't hold on to simple information: I am relying on ethically-challenged systems when I use apps on my phone to track my medications and keep track of appointments and meetings.

It's a kind of cognitive dissonance, I think. My gut tells me that it is right to do as much of my own labour as possible and my heart tells me that it's best to move, but my legs and arms and brain don't always cooperate. That might be my reality; it is the reality of many people around me, including some I love very much. I don't know how to resolve this push and pull when I am unwell, but when I am feeling well, I won't take it for granted.

Yeah, well, so mote it be, right?

Published on Leave a comment on Link roundup: Pagans with chronic illnesses

Ain't no rest for the wicked until we close our eyes for good.
Cage The Elephant - "Ain't No Rest For The Wicked"

Similar to and overlapping with the issue of accessibility is the issue of Pagans dealing with chronic illnesses. This seems like a less explored topic. The Mighty, an amazing site created to empower and connect people facing health challenges and disabilities, has 4 articles when you search "pagan" and only one of those was an author describing themselves as Pagan. There was 1 article for "Wicca". I couldn't count the number of articles that come up when you search "Christian". Given how many Pagans have chronic health conditions, there's definitely room for more exploration of this topic. Here are some people who have started the conversation:

"Physical restrictions due to a chronic condition can make it difficult to feel as if you're connected with the Goddess (or Deity or general energy or nature etc). Conducting rituals indoors because cold weather makes your pain worse, you can feel cut off from the Earth and it's energies. You can feel cut off from other Pagans and the community at large because it's difficult to get out and get to meetings. And because the level of pain you're in is unpredictable, it often means you have to cancel plans at the last minute.

"This can be disheartening. You can end up feeling like you're not a proper Pagan. ...

"Illness isn't something that should steal your faith from you. There are things you can do. As in every other part of your living with a chronic illness, it can mean cutting back on what you do to save your energy."

- "How To Be a Practicing Pagan with a Chronic Illness"; guest contributor Nobby: Staff of Asclepius - Pagans With Disabilities

"Doing something may help you more than doing nothing. If you don't have a practice you can do on your worst days, it can be really easy to get out of the habit of checking in with your spiritual life (and feel even harder to pick up when you do feel better in the future.) Doing small things – especially things you set up in advance and use when you need to – can help a lot."

- "Chronic Illness and Pagan Practice"; Jenett - Seeking: first Pagan steps and tools

"No deity or Wiccan police have come to me and chastised me for not studying or working as much as Person B. If you need to take a few days away, do it! If you can only study 5-10 minutes a day- hey that's 5-10 minutes MORE than you knew before you did that, right? If you can only meditate a couple of minutes, well guess what! That's a couple of quality minutes you just spent to better your mind and body. If you only have time to study by listening to Wiccan audiobooks while you're driving to work or picking the kids up or fixing dinner- do it! That's time that you will spend learning."

- "Chronic Illness and Wicca"; Country Hippie Crossing

Published on Leave a comment on What is the point?

Inspired by "What's the Point of Witchcraft?" on the Keeping Her Keys blog.

A rocky beach with a large piece of driftwood and stacks of stones balanced on the driftwood.

I don't get easy comfort from my gods. The universe is unimaginably expansive and the stars are out of reach. The moon, the ocean, the mists, the mountains... they don't placate, they don't offer aid, and they don't hear prayers. I don't find answers in the stars or solutions in magic spells.

The point of my Paganism isn't finding answers. The point of my Paganism is to be asking questions.

Where do we come from and why are we here?
Our very molecules were created in the heart of stars. What we are made out of, and everything we see, touch, and eat, has been around since the beginning of time. We are so beautifully part of everything; it is a mighty responsibility to figure out what that means.

What is a meaningful life?
We are simultaneously microscopic in relation to the universe and immense to those we love. Even the greatest, most famous, most powerful of us are humbled by the breadth, width, and depth of time and space. Even the most ordinary of us are made noble by our sacred origins. We can live in that paradox.

How can we best honour our own divinity?
We will eventually die and our bodies will return to the components from which we are made. So much before that is out of our control, and what happens after is a mystery, but we can try to honour our inner god/dess while we're in our temporary, fragile bodies.

How can we best honour the divinity in others?
To know the god/dess in everyone is to know that we must create fairness, accessibility, and acceptance in our individual lives, in our sacred spaces, and in our whole world. This is sacred work.

What does it mean to be connected and to be in community?
"We are connected with the Earth ecologically, not just chemically. And we are connected with one another socially: as communal animals who need to belong and to feel loved and supported." - Mark Green, Atheopaganism.

The point isn't getting answers - there aren't any. The point is to seek knowledge and deepen understanding. The point is to ask more questions.

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Published on 1 Comment on The Pagan value of vulnerability

Picture of three medical signs: radiology, nuclear medicine, and "caution: lasers".Due to some mysterious symptoms and random pain, I went from a very active person to being mostly house-bound very quickly in 2017. In the search for answers, I've been shot with lasers, radiation, electricity, ultrasound, magnetic resonance, and xrays... I should be a superhero by now.

I'm very lucky that my job let me work from home during the worst of my pain, but I couldn't hide my absence from the people in the office and had to be quite public about what was going on with my health. Being open about physical pain is still easier than talking about psychological pain or mental health concerns with all their stigmas, but it still made me feel vulnerable. Once I was able to return to the office, I took to smiling through everything again, though sometimes someone would catch me in a weak moment and their innocent inquiry of "how are you?"1 would get them more information than they'd expected.

Doing ritual with other people can be very vulnerable. Good (effective and ethical) ritual doesn't force intimacy, but opens the possibilities for participants to connect with each other, with their higher selves, with the powers of nature, and/or with deities2. But the road to get to that point is paved with vulnerability, often with potholes.

For the person who has written a ritual and is now leading it, there is the vulnerability of an artist presenting their work to the public, with the added pressure that the "audience" is participating in the art and if they don't fully buy in and participate, the art could fail. The work could be gorgeous and powerful, but might not work because the group isn't a good match for the theme, because people are distracted by problems in their lives, because the location wasn't suitable3, or because of a hundred other reasons that maybe the leader could have predicted or maybe they couldn't control. And all you can do as is plan as best you can, then take a deep breath and give your perfect little ritual4 over to the group.

There's also vulnerability in being a participant in a ritual. Agreeing to step into sacred space ideally means opening yourself to the experience someone else has designed for you, and even in a long-running group5, you can't be sure of exactly what that will mean. In a public ritual or within a new group, this will be magnified. And if you are asked to call a quarter or otherwise embody a role, you are public speaking (a very common fear) and ideally you are putting energy into that role. Being willing to call a quarter or deity, means taking on a responsibility, and using someone else's words and in public besides.

In my experience, the best rituals are ones where the person putting on the ritual has put heart and soul into their plan and maybe feels some fear in putting it out into the world6 and where the participants feel safe enough in the context of that ritual to say true things with conviction. Everyone involved has to agree to a certain amount of vulnerability for it to work.

Shared pain is lessened; shared joy, increased - and both require an open heart to share and to hear. I may have been pushed into vulnerability at work, but it has been a blessing. In talking about my health liminality, others have felt comfortable coming to me to sympathize because of their own health struggles. I had no idea how many people in my daily life were waiting for answers or had a diagnosed chronic condition to manage, but none of us are alone - none of us feel as alone - if we are willing to share.

Pagans are often proudly independent people. But creating healthy communities and strong Circles requires a certain amount of openness to each other, and we will have to find ways to be strong and vulnerable at the same time, at least when together. The magic lives in the vulnerability shared.

Published on Leave a comment on Liminal is uncomfortable


Sunrise over a winery

I love the concept of the liminal: the in-between place and time. Pagans have often embraced the concept: "...the hearth or altar is a liminal space, as it bridges the gap between the humans and the supernatural; the threshold, doors, and windows of a house are liminal, since they bridge the gap between inside and outside; and certain times of the year and the day (dawn, dusk, and several holidays) are liminal times."1 And in some tradition's rituals, we stand in "a place that is not a place; a time that is not a time". I even have the concept of the liminal in the very core of my beliefs, where I slip between humanism and theism.

I'm in medical limbo right now, waiting on an MRI. Studies suggest that waiting is often the hardest part, even of something as life-altering as a cancer diagnosis. I've been consulting doctors and getting tests for most of 2017 and right now my hopes are pinned on January 4th, 2018, when I will be getting the results of the MRI. If there's nothing on the MRI, though, my limbo may continue.

I've been working with a counselor on dealing with the medical anxiety, preparing for the MRI (I'm claustrophobic), and treating myself with self-compassion and breathing exercises. And it is all helping, but maybe I'm ready to move from tolerating and accepting this time of uncertainty to honouring it. It seems appropriate that this time of greatest liminality for my health concerns should overlap with secular culture's liminal time between Christmas and New Year's.

Everyone will experience the discomfort of not knowing throughout their lives. In my experience, it is easy to overlook that that is what's happening in your life, but to still feel the anxiety and stress. I'm hoping to re-name my limbo as liminal time and do some ritual around the process of sitting in a place without all the answers. I want to find a way to celebrate uncertainty.2 If you have any suggestions or resources, please let me know! I will add a link to my ritual here if I come up with something (ETA: here is my Imbolc ritual called Mindful Liminality).

And I drop into another liminal space, between concept and creation, between thought and action. It is more under my control, though. So mote it be.

Published on Leave a comment on Down to the core


"Finding balance" by woodleywonderworks; Creative Commons CC BY 2.0

Sometimes we talk about balancing the elements in ourselves: balancing the wild passion of Fire with the practicality of Earth; balancing the emotions of Water with the intellect of Air. It strikes me that that's a bit like balancing by focusing on your limbs. Balance isn't in your arms and legs - it is in your core.

To balance your body, brace your core, focus your eyes, and breathe. If your core is strong, your limbs can be flung in any direction, you can be still or moving, you can be on a small base of support, and still you will be in control.

Maybe to balance your magic, brace your spirit, focus your intention, and breathe.



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