Summer Stations

One of my friends recently asked me for a book list for Qyeer NeoPagan books.  I came to the conclusion that there wasn't really a list so much as there was an anti-list.  And that I like sarcasm.  I've yet to find a book for queer men which addresses using ritual for transformation, celebration and communion; that uses ritual to balance mind, body, heart, and spirit; that blends influx, maintenance, and distribution with the previous elements in a Graceful way.

Oh well.

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It's after the Summer Solstice.  I have been thinking about how this is supposed to be the time of Enchantment and Transformation--a time to try to reframe how to see the world.  Or, at least, that's how I frame the Summer Solstice.  When I'm not sneezing from pollen and sweating to death from the heat.  (Luckily, this year the 90F heat waited a week to come.)

In terms of Transformation.... I've been looking at how I write in terms of my career and life.  It bothers me that I'm almost 50 and not more published.  (And, yes; I have some time management problems I need to deal with.). If I want to write and have it contribute to my household, I need to think about writing more like a job.  Bleah--which means I have to think in terms of annoying things like retirement, and healthcare, and taxes.  (Pause for an indulgent fantasy about a writer shrine to John where he sits and writes while grateful readers bring chocolate, tea, and massages (and little prosessions with fans and banners during writing breaks) and a business manager handles the workman's comp issues for the litter-bearers.).  

After the Solstice Enchanter comes the Hunter of the Ides of Summer.  The Hunter is the goal he wishes to reach... And  I've got some move work to do before I reach the Hunter state.  Or, to put it a different way, before the goal I'm aiming at is something I'm being mindful about instead of a default consequence of undisciplined choices.

Solstice Song

Under the solstice sun I sit

iPad on my lap

Blogging ritual

Backyard altar flames.

Orpheus Wreath

 I used InkScape to make laurel leaf shapes.  I made a line of about six in addition to single ones.  Then I used a plotter-cutter to cut them out.






 I thought I'd be able to spiral the linked leaves into a wreath.  I probably could have, but it was much easier to use the metal tiara as a form.







 I hadn't realized it at the time, but the cut-out vein made it easy to lock the leaf strings together.





 And then I was ready to dress as if I were Orpheus.








 Tra-la!

Busy Week / Bear Dream

Lots of manuscripts to critique and things have been somewhat busy on the family end here, so I haven't blogged much in the last week.  

I was kind of in a bad place the other day writing wise.  A story got rejected.  Very likely because the market was swamped and the story wasn't what they were looking for.  Yes, I know I'm not the editor, but I thought the story had a chance of selling (or at least garnering a "it was _this_ close" rejection.  But instead it got a form rejection.  

Form rejections are the worst.  I know I should shrug them off.  But I went back and forth fretting with the "I'm just too stupid to be writing" and "Did gay protagonist kissing his boyfriend at the end have anything to do with it?"  

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I had the Bear Dream last night.  In the Bear Dream, I'm usually going onto the north end of the hill where I grew up.  In real life, there's a gravel road and lots of forest... or at least, last I checked several decades ago--it may be more developed by now.  Usually, there's a bear of some sort.  One Bear Dream many years ago, I was shoving Fiestawear plates into snowbanks and the Bear was a Polar Bear.

In this dream, I was travelling by rowboat (or maybe a small sail boat) to a small, rocky island.  It was the middle of the day, and the sun was out.  I think I had a candle or a lamp or something... possibly a glowing quartz crystal.  I got out of the boat and onto the gravelly beach.  The island was mostly bassalt cliffs with many narrow channels.  I knew that somewhere on the island was a Gaurdian Bear, and I needed to be cautious.  As I walked up a slope between two canyon walls, there were lots of lateral shelves in the rocky cliffs.  People had left memorials--silver plates, candels, lamps--within the shelves.  

I think I placed the light I was carying onto the shelf.  There was a break of some kind, and the smallish boat I'd come in had turned into a three-masted ship... and the dream went onto other things.

When I woke up, I couldn't help but notice the similarietesbetween the rocky shelves and the snow banks.  I'm guessing this dream has something to do with personal or family history... or "shelving" things not actively needed.  I'm not sure why the Bear is the guardian, though.

...and now, the Day Jobbe.