Fresh out of the Box

I was be-boppin’ around on the web last week and somehow came across a couple of links to personality tests.  Now, I am not usually one for nonsense like that so of course I followed the links…

Exactly what is it that makes us want to squeeze into someone else’s set of narrow-minded perceptions, aka…The Box?  We seem to have a fascination for being labeled and categorized after which we revolt and give a shout for individuality.

The results of the first test satisfied both impulses; I was categorized and then informed that my personality is rare, about 1% of the population.  I celebrated by writing my sister, cheerily informing her that Mom and Dad can now relax, there apparently is a place in this world for me after all.

On to test number two which contained only yes/no answers and some confusing questions.  For example, one question states “You tend to be unbiased even if this might endanger your good relations with people”.  Which part of this question am I answering?  What if I am not usually unbiased but if I were I would stand my position even if it made others uncomfortable? 

Test number two placed me in a different box although strangely this one also fit my self-perception; again… rare–less than 4% of the population.  Could it be that every personality type comes back as rare?  I mean, how much fun would it be to read “congratulations, 94% of the population is just like you”?

If you would like test my theory these tests may be found at:

http://kisa.ca/personality/

http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes1.htm

 

Write a Bouquet

The din of the holidays is passed; I can almost feel the house breathe a sigh.  The sun is shining and the only sound I hear is the hum of the clothes dryer, this is a rare moment of peace.  Today is the first Monday of a new year.  I pour my first cup of tea, contemplating which item on my to do list will have the honor of ushering in the work week…none, I decide, I will begin my year by arranging flowers.

 I love being lost in the flowers.  The coolness of the petals, the scent…  I enjoy watching as the arrangement takes shape.  As I work I become aware of my thoughts:

Vary the color and texture to add interest

Vary the length of the stems to add dimension and shape

Create your arrangement in a way that suits your chosen container, the flowers should look like they belong in that container

Leave some space so the flowers can be seen

Add foliage for texture and to fill in any unsightly gaps

Share your bouquet with others

 And then I realize that flower arranging is a lot like writing,

                                                                                                                   and like life.

 

Happy Hogmanay!

Happy Hogmanay, otherwise known as New Years Eve; incidentally, today is also the sixth day in the twelve days of Christmas. There is some debate as to the origin of the word hogmanay, some say it derived from the phrase au gui menez which means, “lead to the mistletoe”, others say it began as oge midne or “good morning”. Whatever the origin may be, the meaning is the same as today– many blessings on your new year.

Traditionally this was a day of tidying up loose ends; houses were cleaned, clothes mended and debts were paid. The New Year was to be welcomed as an honored guest not to be marred by “leftovers” from the previous year. For most of us, this level of clearing is not feasible but it does offer us something to ponder.

As we make our resolutions of new attributes to adopt let’s also take a look of what we can release. We can release our distrust of others not like us. We can release our anger at those we feel have hurt us. We can forgive ourselves for not always acting in our own best interest– abuse victims are all too familiar with this particular version of guilt. We can forgive our parents, siblings and spouses for not being perfect.

It’s amazing how much of our energy is tied up with past experiences, energy better spent on what we want to create now.  There is an old chant which says, “Hogmanay Trololay, give us your white bread and none of your gray”.  In other words, partake of what is fresh and discard the old.  So, here’s a toast to new beginnings…and lots of fresh, fluffy bread.

“Thank You” to all my new friends and everyone who has visited me this year.  May you have an absolutely delightful 2010.

 

Christmas, Yule and Winter Solstice

In the cold winter months when the gloom in the sky threatens to reside in our hearts we here in the United States have a unique way of celebrating a holiday collectively referred to as Christmas, regardless of our religious persuasion.   Pine trees are brought indoors and decorated with lights and baubles, wreaths are hung on the door, candles are lit and neighborhoods have intense competitions for who can create the largest light show in their front yard.  Have you ever wondered just where or when this all started?  Cozy up by the fire with your laptop and I’ll share what I’ve found.

Christmas Trees, Boughs of Holly and Kissing Under the Mistletoe:   

During the long, bleak days of winter evergreen plants were symbols of tenacity and life everlasting to the Nordic and Celtic people.  These trees and plants which did not go into dormancy remained as symbols of hope in the renewal of life when the human spirit threatened to falter.  In fact, some cultures believed that the woodland spirits took refuge in these evergreens during the harsh winter months.  Decorating or honoring these plants, or bringing them into the home, was believed to be a way to gain the favor and blessing of the residing spirit.

 Some plants were assigned attributes either for the god or goddess associated with them or for their medicinal or magical use.  Mistletoe, for example, was known as the “All-Healing” herb or “Druids’ Weed” and was a symbol of health, luck and fertility.  Hung above doorways it was believed to provide protection and invite prosperity; kissing under the mistletoe was a sign of trust and friendship.

 Holly was the masculine symbol of summer in the winter darkness, with Ivy being the feminine counterpart. The pairing of the holly with the ivy goes back to a Greek myth where a young girl dances before Dionysus, represented by the holly, with such ardor that she falls dead.  In honor of her devotion Dionysus places her spirit into the plant which to this day bears her name.

 This pairing was again reflected in a fifteenth century carol called The Holly King and the Ivy Queen wherein the jovial Holly King is accompanied by the cold, weepy Ivy Queen then repeated in the Christmas carol The Holly and The Ivy.  Garlands made from holy and ivy symbolized fruitfulness

 Dionysus and Bacchus were just two of the gods associated with holly.  These personifications were seen as jovial lovers of life who encouraged us to participate heartily in life and trust we would be blessed.  A wonderful depiction of this character was offered as the Ghost of Christmas Present in the movie Scrooge, the one with Albert Finney as Scrooge.  The flowing green robe, table laden with food and crown of holy was the traditional depiction of this archetype.   The circular form of the crown, or wreath, represented the cycle of life.  It is not surprising the image would be also adopted for Jesus although, for Christians, the crown of holly represented his crown of thorns.

 The practice and ritual of decorating our houses with greenery can be traced back to ancient Rome around the Kalends of January, second century BCE.  Following the Midwinter Festival, also known as Saturnalia (after Saturn, god of agriculture), came a few days of rest as new consuls were inducted into office.  Houses were decorated with greenery and gifts were exchanged.

 The “Christmas Tree” as we know it today came into trend in 1840.  Decorating fir trees was a German tradition introduced to England by Prince Albert and Queen Victoria.  The fir-tree as a symbol of hope is reflected in the German carol O’Tannenbaum, the last verse of which translates as:

Your dress wants to
  teach me something:
Your hope and durability
Provide comfort and strength
  at any time.
O fir tree, o fir tree,
That's what your dress should
  teach me.

 Lights, Candles and the Yule Log:

For as long as there have been humans there has been a fascination with and worshipping of the sun, for without the sun there can be no food and no life.  For the ancient peoples winter was a frightening time with often limited provisions and a troubling apprehension that the Sun, the most important life-giving source, may not return.

The word Yule is derived from the word for wheel or cycle as in the Wheel of Life.  The Yule log began as symbolic magic to invite the spirit or energy of the Sun back to the village and into the home.  Traditionally the log was Oak or Ash, ritually blessed with wine or cider and then lit.  The ashes from the Yule log were either sprinkled in the fields to insure fertility or buried by the house to protect against lightning.  Part of the log was kept as kindling for next year’s fire.  Occasionally Yule candles were used instead of logs.  In these cases the tallow drippings from the blessed candle would be rubbed into the handles of the plow to insure fertile crops.

 The lighting of any candle or fire was seen as an invitation to the Sun god or goddess who represented prosperity.  This tradition has been carried over into the modern-day electric lights we use on our trees and homes. Let’s face it, when you drive past a home lit up like an amusement park don’t you think “those people must have a lot of money to be able to afford that electric bill”? 

 Lights and candles continue to be a beloved part of our winter festivities.  To some people a candle flame is a symbol of the imminent return of light and warmth; for others, a symbol of Divine Grace; and still for others it is a symbol of spiritual enlightenment.  I would like to suggest that the flame also be a representative of our interconnectedness and the strength of will and spirit to honor that thread throughout our associations with our fellow-man and stewardship of this Earth.  A light in the darkness, a star to guide us on our journey to being the people we are meant, and truly desire, to be.

 Happy Holidays to all; may the flame burn ever brighter for you in this New Year.

 

Seeds of Kindness

Is mankind’s capacity for compassion limited to works of fiction?

 While doing some research today I came across an interview with Propulsion Physics expert Marc Millis on the possibility warp drive.  What really struck me was Millis’ offhand statement about humanity.  In relating how Star Trek inspired his interest in space travel he mentioned that the way the crew behaved so admirably and how people were depicted as working together in spite of their differences may be more an act of fiction than our ability to reach warp drive; a sad and very true statement. One look at the news headlines tells us that humans do not behave admirably or commendably, at least, not in an altruistic sense.

 Today is World Kindness Day. (I know…it didn’t make the headlines). For some people the agenda today is to commit a “random act of kindness” for a neighbor.  Others hold World Kindness Day as a call to bring down the barriers between nations.  The hope for everyone, of course, is that eventually this ability to think outside of our own lives will become commonplace instead of one day out of a year.  So how do we get there?  We need to pay attention to our focus.

  Just the other day a friend was telling me that the Christmas season is his favorite time of year because it seemed everyone tried a little harder to be friendly.  Being charitable or good natured at Christmas has been instilled in our minds, at least in the western world, through books, movies and sermons.  In other words, the seed has been planted and nurtured for each of us that the Holiday Season is a time of charity and good cheer.  During this time we pay attention to our focus.  Of course, it helps when the media provides the fertilizer with reruns of A Christmas Carol.

Where is our focus the rest of the year?  For many of us it is still following the media like mice following The Pied Piper.  Our focus is directed to war, disease, economic woes, and other acts of mayhem.  Each day we look at the world through eyes clouded by greed, consumerism and false power because these are the seeds we nurture on a daily basis.  That’s right, we nurture these seeds. We decide which headlines to read.  We decide which political stance to take.  We decide when to harbor hatred or jealousy.  We decide which news items will be the most read headlines on the internet each day.

 Out of the acorn a mighty tree grows.  Being more conscious of where we place our focus and how we spend our energy is the key.  It might seem difficult at first, as breaking any habit can be, but as we replace the old habit with the new it becomes easier.  When you find yourself in a state of road rage make a conscious effort to switch gears. If you find yourself upset by watching the news turn the station, or take a few moments to think of some positive steps you can take in a better direction.  Seek out stories of positive content.  Rephrase your discussions to have more positive slants.  Read up on other cultures and try to see the world through their eyes.  Each one of us can only be a good or as mighty as we allow ourselves to be, but if we all pay attention to our focus admirable qualities will no longer be lost in the world of fiction.

 

New Children’s Series by Fiona Ingram

Today I’d like to introduce you book one in a new children’s series by Fiona Ingram; The Secret of the Sacred Scarab.

A 5,000-year-old mystery comes to life when a scruffy peddler gives Adam and Justin Sinclair an old Egyptian scarab on their very first day in Egypt. Only when the evil Dr. Faisal Khalid shows a particular interest in the cousins and their scarab do the boys realize they are in terrible danger. Dr. Khalid wants the relic at all costs. Justin and Adam embark upon the adventure of a lifetime, taking them down the Nile and across the harsh desert in their search for the legendary tomb of the Scarab King, an ancient Egyptian ruler. They are plunged into a whirlpool of hazardous and mysterious events when Dr. Khalid kidnaps them. The boys survive terrifying dangers in a hostile environment (such as a giant cobra, as well as sinking sand), and are pursued by enemies in their quest to solve the secret of the sacred scarab. They must translate the hieroglyphic clues on the underside of the scarab, as well as rescue the missing archaeologist James Kinnaird, and their friend, the Egyptologist Ebrahim Faza, before time runs out. They must also learn more about the ancient Seven Stones of Power and the mysterious Shemsu-Hor. With just their wits, courage, and each other, the boys manage to survive…only to find that the end of one journey is the beginning of another!

Reading level: Ages 9-12   Paperback: 272 pages   ISBN# 0595457169

The Secret of the Sacred Scarab was nominated as a Finalist in the Children’s Fiction section of 2009 USA Next Generation Indie Book Awards, as well as the USA National Best Books 2009 Awards. The Secret of the Sacred Scarab is available through Amazon.com, B&N, and independent or chain bookstores.

Find out more about Fiona by visiting her websites:
www.SecretoftheSacredScarab.com
www.FionaIngram.com
Twitter: FionaRobyn
Facebook: The Secret of the Sacred Scarab Fan Page

 

Visiting Brother

The names have been changed but the story is true

 It was a warm, sunny day with just enough of a breeze to keep the temperature comfortable.  I was sitting at a picnic table in front of the apartment I shared with my “then” boyfriend, Dale.  Seated on the table with my feet on the bench I stared at the front door, pondering my options.

 The apartment had a split floor plan with two master suites separated by a living room.  One of the suites had been converted to an office for Dale’s business.  He was in his office at that moment on a long distance call to his new love interest, Annie, with whom he had begun a relationship while in the mid-west attending his brother Evan’s funeral.  Annie was Evan’s presumably bereaved girlfriend and mother of his child. 

As I was sitting there trying not to listen to the steady drone of conversation coming through the wall behind me I caught sight through the window of a man walking out of our bedroom and heading towards Dale’s office.  I waited for a break in the conversation or some other acknowledgement that the visitor had entered the room.  Who was this person and how did he get into the apartment when I was sitting in front of the only door and had a clear view of every window?  Completely puzzled, I waited for the phone call to end. 

Finally I heard Dale say his good-byes.  Walking into the apartment I met him in the living room.  “Did a man walk into your office”?

 He almost laughed, “No”.

 “You didn’t see anyone”?

 “No, how could anyone get into the apartment?  Did you see someone”?

 “Yes.  I was outside and saw a man through the window.  He came out of our bedroom and was heading towards your office”.

 Dales face went slack.  “What did he look like”?

 “He was tall and thin, about the same build as you but he had dark hair”.

 A few moments passed as Dale stood there staring at nothing, “You just described my brother”.

 That night I was awakened by Dale talking in his sleep.  He kept repeating the words “Annie, I love you”.  So I did what anyone else would do; I woke him up and asked him if he knew what he had been saying in his sleep.  He said he did and that it wasn’t him, it was his brother talking through him.  I passed this off as him not being ready to admit his feelings to me and was disgusted that he would use his deceased brother as a scapegoat.

During the remainder of that night I was awakened twice more, not by talking but by the feeling of someone choking me.  The first time I was pulled out of a deep sleep.  The second time it was just as I was drifting off.  I finally decided to get up and it was there in the early morning hours that I understood the message.

 Evan had been schizophrenic and had refused to take his medication.  During his last episode he had committed suicide.  His spirit was troubled at leaving Annie with a six-month old baby.  He was trying to tell us that he was in support of the union between Dale and Annie.  He wanted Dale to take care of his family.

 In the days that followed Dale was troubled, not because his brother had visited but because I was the one to see him.  He began trying to contact his brother; he even created a scrying booth in which he would sit every evening but Evan did not return.  He asked me why his brother appeared to me when I had never even met him. 

Well, this is the best answer I have.  On top of our mantle was an urn holding some of Evan’s ashes.  Dale and his mother agreed they would each keep an urn for one year and then meet and scatter the ashes together.  Dale had wanted to keep lit candles next to the urn at all times as a memorial.  The problem was he did not pay attention to the wax level and the candles would burn out which would upset him  Out of respect for his loss I took it upon myself to keep tall, glass cylinder candles lit at all times.  Each time I lit a new candle I would say a little prayer for Evan that he may be at peace.  It was only later that I learned that souls travel by candle light.  I had been the keeper of the flame; the one who opened the door.

Do you have a true ghost story?  Leave a comment and share with us.

 

All Soul’s Tour

The breeze tonight is soft and cool.  In the distance the fires burn, filling the air with the sweet scent of Oak, Ash and straw.  The light from the fires mingle with the last rays of sunlight.  Twilight rises as I set off down the road, towards the fires at the edge of the village.

 A pleasant sensation begins to move through my body, then I hear it; ’tis the drumming and chanting of The Old Songs. I quicken pace for the celebration’s begun.  Tonight’s to be a night of merry.  There’s to be dancing and food and drink ‘til n’er morn.  Torches are to be lit from the fires and carried into the homes for the hearths.  Bread and ale are to be placed on the tables to welcome our visitors. Tonight the veils are parted and for one night our loved ones will come home.

 Today we know this night as Halloween or All Hallows Eve or All Souls Eve; a night for the child in all of us to dress in costume, party and scare the wits out of ourselves and others. What is now a night of haunted houses, bloodshed and candy (a strange combination), began as a night of honoring loved-ones past.  Although The Festival of the Dead is known by many names in many cultures the beliefs and ritual run similar threads around the world.  If you share a bit of that chocolate bar with me I’ll take you on a two-penny tour.

 Our first stop is the Celtic holiday of Samhain (pronounced SOW-en).  Celebrated at the end of the harvest season, Samhain is the night of the year when the veils between the worlds are the thinnest.  Like many cultures the Celts believe quite literally in life-everlasting.  For them, death is not an ending; it is merely a door into the next reality.  The other world is a mirror image of this one and life continues in much the same way. 

 This view of the afterlife is much like that of the Egyptians who celebrate The Beautiful Feast of the Valley, Sunset Ceremony or The Festival of Wag (or Wagy).  Beginning at the Nile, a parade of acrobats and musicians lead a procession to the tombs where food and drink are offered to the departed.  Acrobatics aside, for parades of art and mysterious ritual New Orleans and Africa top the charts.

 Under the belief that restless spirits may come back to cause mischief, in New Orleans these processions include people disguised as departed spirits.  This “guising” is meant to confuse the spirits and is at the roots of our present day custom to dress up as ghosts and skeletons. Hey, why should the spirits have all the fun? In Peru and Mexico we know this as El Dia de los Muertos, All Souls Day; Touissant to the French; Velja Noc in Old Slavic; Genesia in Old Greek.

 In Africa during the Egungun Festival, the guising takes on a new meaning.  This festival honors ancestors with drumming, chanting and prayer. Individuals offer their services to families by donning the garb and thereby taking on the persona of a departed loved one.  The purpose is to assist in transmuting the prayers to that soul.  In Haiti a similar festival is called Fet Gede. 

 The festivals change slightly when we enter Asian lands. On the one hand we have Zhonguan Jie or Happy Celebration, a time to honor the ancestors.  On the other hand we have Ullamban or Chinese Halloween. 

 In Chinese culture the departed have a journey ahead of them and if they have not been properly sent off they can not complete their journey.  At the Chinese Ghost Festival, or in Thailand, Pee Ta Khon, the gates to the world of the dead are opened.  This is a time of Hungry Ghosts.  Souls who have not received proper tribute wander looking for food and supplies which are offered up to them by the burning of joss paper. (Lisa See does a wonderful job of allowing us to experience being a Hungry Ghost in her novel, Peony in Love, Random House Publishing, 2007).

 Festivities take on a lighter air at the Japanese O-bon festival, a happy time of family reunion.  This is a time to clean and care for gravesites and honor the ancestors.  In Vietnam the festival is called Te Trung Nguyen and in Beijing we have Qingming Jie or Clear Brightness.

 Observed in April, Clear Brightness actually began as a fertility festival much like the Celtic Beltane.  Since the dead were believed to be responsible for the fertility of the fields and prosperity of the home it was considered a good idea to keep them happy, therefore gravesites were cleaned and picnics held at graveside.  Over time the focus of this celebration shifted from a day of fertility and prosperity to a day of remembrance.

 In some cultures, such as certain Native American communities, this day of remembrance is not observed.  In these traditions the ancestors are honored with every prayer.  For most of us, however, our lives become overly hectic with our attention forever focused on what we need to do next.  Perhaps, for us, setting aside one day each year for the remembrance of loved ones past would be a healthy tradition to revive; for it is as much to honor our own heart as it is to honor their memory.

 There are many simple ways to make space in our lives for those who have parted.  Simply wearing Grandma’s necklace or making one of her recipes for dinner can open up conversations with the children, opening up a time to share all those special memories. Updating the family photo albums with notations and stories about the pictures is another way to honor our loved ones.  This is a project I’m currently planning with my eighty-one year old mother; she’s the only one who knows all those people and the pictures usually prompt a good tale. 

For your listening pleasure    – Loreena McKennitt –  All Soul’s Night

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-qQHlWkSM_o

 Time to Share:  Leave a comment to share how your family remembers their ancestors or any other thoughts you may have.

See Prompt Page for accompanying writing prompt.

 Next Time:  A true-life ghost story.  I’ll post it on the 30^th….

 

Between Sisters

Last February my sister and I celebrated our first birthday together in over twenty-five years.  We packed a picnic, grabbed a bottle of wine and drove out to the desert.  There, with saguaros standing sentinel, we had our first conversation together as adults.

 Our last deep conversation had been over a bag of butterscotch baking chips, I think I was all of five years old at the time.  My sister married when she was eighteen, I was seven, and in the years that followed we had become strangers.  So there we were, two middle-aged women with a lifetime’s worth of stories.

 I remember there was a soft, warm breeze rustling through the scrub brush.  Slowly we began by sharing our painful stories first.  Before long we were crying with each other’s pain, laughing at our similar mishaps and marveling at how alike we truly are.

This is the magic of sisters.  That no matter how much time or distance may come between us our special connection will always hold true.  

 

“Today I’m participating in a mass blogging! WOW! Women On Writing has gathered a group of blogging buddies to write about family relationships. Why family relationships? We’re celebrating the release of Therese Walsh’s debut novel today. The Last Will of Moira Leahy, (Random House, October 13, 2009) is about a mysterious journey that helps a woman learn more about herself and her twin, whom she lost when they were teenagers. Visit The Muffin (http://www.wow-womenonwriting.com/blog.html) to read what Therese has to say about family relationships and view the list of all my blogging buddies. And make sure you visit Therese’s website (http://www.theresewalsh.com) to find out more about the author.”

 

Season’s Change

There is a wonderful warm breeze today; the leaves dance, the chimes sing and shadows play against the wall.  Fall is here and it feels wonderful.

When I was a child I noticed that at this time of the year the feline members of our household would become very frisky.  I thought they were reacting to static electricity in their fur, I would be jumping around too, but I believe it was more than that.  I believe they were expressing that perceptible change of seasons and the playful energy which is Fall.

In the western world we have been taught that the cycle of the seasons begins with Spring, so for some people Spring feels like the beginning of the year or the cycle of the year.

Our calendar year, however, begins in January.  This no doubt would seem quite odd to ancient peoples who gauged the world through symbols.  How can a cycle begin in darkness and cold, in the season symbolized by sleeping and death?  Well, I suppose if we consider the seed sleeping in the ground, readying itself for birth, that makes some sense.

The ancient Celts, however, were a lunar-oriented culture.  Their days began at twilight , and their year began in Autumn.  Samhain, what we now call Halloween, was in fact their New Year.

How appropriate then for the leaves to fall.  For when that which is spent is acknowledged and released, the cycle can begin anew.  Now that should make you feel lighter–and perhaps even frisky.