Gods help me, I've started a public-facing blog: http://embervoices.wordpress.com/

I'll still keep this one for more personal musings, to the degree that I've kept it thus far.

[Edit] I have a request to CC my WordPress posts to this journal as well. If I do, they'll be locked to the access list, as I gather it's considered poor form to fully duplicate the public content. It's just apparently some folks can't access WordPress outside of the US, for some reason...

-E-

I have heard an argument that goes something like this:

"Stop complaining that women are under attack just because a bunch of clinics are being shut down in Texas. The women in Texas still have CHOICES to get their care elsewhere, or even out of state. I have been through hell and have made lots of excruciatingly hard CHOICES, you have nothing to complain about!"

There are SO many problems with the argument above, and especially in this context, that it actually woke my brain up 2 hours early this morning because I couldn't just let it go, so y'all get me ranting on (hopefully artfully) for many paragraphs just to shut my damned brain up about it. Lucky you!

( First of all, Misery Poker is a problem in its own right )

Now a few notes about the problems in this context:

( The context being reproductive rights and healthcare for women, especially poor women, in Texas and elsewhere )

I could go on for pages about this, but other people have already done so in far better detail than I ever could, so I'll stop there. The real point of this particular rant was all up in the first section: The fact that one person's life has been very hard does not excuse other people's lives being made unnecessarily harder, it does not render their arguments invalid, and it definitely doesn't make silencing their protests appropriate.

Whew! Now maybe my brain can shut up for a while!

-E-

Okay! This weekend was the Mystery portion of my Ordination process.

Although it was a bit of a muddle logistically right up until the very end (which I suspect was actually deliberate on the part of the Powers as a way to keep me off balance) it went quite well. I had exactly what I needed, no more, no less.

I can't talk much about the details, however, because... uh... Mystery.

HOWEVER! My public Ordination Vows will be taken in early August and now my job is to go about figuring out what those Vows will actually BE, in terms of actual wording, and then design a ritual around it, and recruit appropriately those I need to execute the thing.

The date has already been set, and the design has already begun, so that ball is rolling. Location is still TBD, but it's looking like East Bay makes the most sense - either Greyhaven or some likely outdoor location.

I can't even tell you how much LESS crazy I feel now.

But I'm still daunted. I'm starting a Lineage. This is A Thing now in a way that goes far beyond what I ever expected of our little affinity group back in 2004.

-E-

What are your favorite folktales with female protagonists?

I'll accept anything with unknown author as "Folktale" whether it's a parable, a legend, a saga, a fairytale, or whatever.

I guess I don't mind knowing about works with known authors too provided you cite the author's name for reference.

But I'm really looking for the kinds of patterns that primarily manifest when a story has gotten told and retold and reshaped and retold over time, rather than a single person's idea of a good story, however grounded in tradition it may be.

-E-

I dreamt this yesterday (Monday) morning:

I had to ford a slow-moving but very cold river that was about 4 feet deep, in my car. It was the kind of river that is near the sea, because the waves would periodically flood the car, so I couldn't stay dry. Finally I had to turn my car into a little boat and get out and kick-paddle to push us to the other shore.

On the other shore was a strange house full of wanderers, where I could rest for a bit. Once I was well-rested, I found myself in a bazaar, talking to an older woman with dark hair and caramel skin. I picked up a gorgeously-illustrated picture book, and looked at a picture of a beautiful older African man. The style of the painting was a sort of splotchy watercolor. I grinned and turned the picture around to show the woman. "This reminds me of Obatala!" I said, pleased, but not expecting her to know what I meant. She replied that it was Orunla.

She started to tell me the story, which was indeed about an Orixa. I wasn't quite sure of the name.
"Wait, you mean Oxala?" I asked.
"You're not LISTENING!" she replied sharply.
I was abashed, and apologized, explaining that I WAS listening, but I knew different names for the Orixa and wanted to make sure I understood her story correctly. She grumbled and told me to read the book myself, then.
----------------------------------------------

The book told the story of the first two Orixa, with Oludumare: a Man and a Woman, made to be immortal, to keep Oludumare company, and guard the world. Oludumare had created a world full of wondrous things that moved in cycles of life, creation, and death. The Man and Woman at first were occupied learning about all of the many things in Oludumare's world. They loved each other as husband and wife do.

One day, Oludumare came to the Man and said "She wants to die."

The Woman had made her case, that if she could not create, she had no reason for existence. She wanted very much to create children, as all the plants and animals do. Everything else in all of Oludumare's creation was part of the beautiful cycle, why not her?

Oludumare admonished that they had been created to be immortal and thus did not need children to carry on their traditions in their absence.
"Then let me die," she replied.

But the Man did not want her to die, and did not himself want to die. He loved the Woman and wanted her to stay with him. Oludumare was firm.

"You must help her die."
"You can't want me to kill her?!"
"Go out into the world and learn all there is to know of death."

Reluctantly, the Man did as he was told. At first he was angry with Oludumare, then resigned. Finally he began to see the beauty of the cycle that the Woman had perceived. As it moved before him and swirled around him in its mysterious glory, the Man understood the value of death in the cycle.

He returned to the hall where the Woman and Oludumare were waiting, his garments stained with blood, with mud, with salt water and sweat, with all the substances of creation and death marking his garments.

"I understand," he said.
Oludumare smiled. The Woman was relieved.
"Then I may die now?" She asked. And it was so.

That the Man would not be lonely, Oludumare made another Woman. She was able to die, and able to create, both these things built into her being from the first. The Man, too, was given the possibility to die. He, too, could create now, his journey having initiated him into the mysteries of the cycle.

They soon had children, who became part of the cycle themselves. They multiplied, and spread across the world, and each in time took up guardianship of different aspects of Oludumare's creation.

Oludumare was never lonely again.
----------------------------------------------

I closed the book, and brought it back to the woman. I told her I MUST own the book, and asked its price. She was reluctant, as though she was obliged to let me have the story, but didn't believe I deserved it, and thus didn't want to sell me the book. I was in tears - it was the most beautiful story I had ever heard, and I could see myself the mysteries of the cycle moving through the artwork, the beauty of Death moving through the cycle. She relented, selling me the book for some strange fee I no longer remember. Not coins, certainly, but perhaps bites of bread, and a snippet of my hair, or somesuch.

I woke up not being sure if the story was about Obatala or Orunla, and knowing no name for the first Woman.

I thought the story was about Obatala until just now, when I looked up Orunla and saw that Orunla (Orunmila) was the first Orixa, who got to watch Oludumare create all things, and that's how He knows all fates. So I think yes, this story IS about Orunla, and I was given a gift of it, that the one sent to give it to me didn't really feel I deserved, but she was under orders of some kind.

Edit Note:
Although I must admit what I looked up after the story contradicts all the stories I knew before, where Obatala was the first Orixa under Oludumare, and Orunla was Obatala's youngest son, who spent most of his time growing up buried to the neck under the tree Iroko.... Have I got wires crossed, or is this just a place where mythology has multiple answers?

-E-

From July of 2004:

I have a friend who says "The Truth Only Hurts When It Oughtta". In a way, I think he's right, but at the same time I think he doesn't necessarily mean it the way it applies in this context - Truth Hurts most when it is Needed. What we Need and what we Want in this manner are so rarely coincidental. It's strange, though, because the things that should, theoretically, bring us the most joy, hurt the most because of what they release, and a pain we are used to holding inside goes unnoticed until we let it go, and have to feel it one last time before it dies. If we try not to feel the hurt, we can't let it go, and it will only be held until it can try to be released again. A pain must be felt completely before it can die. It is, in this way, a microcosm of life - a true life must be lived completely before it ends, or it will be lived again. These little deaths between are only pauses to regroup and catch our lessons as they go by. If we fail to pause, we may miss the lessons, but it is a failure to continue beyond the pause that brings the real... damage... trouble... I can't find the word for this...

Anyway.

-E-

My Up-Goer Five Life:

Job: I make pictures to go on the covers of books for people to read on their computers. I also pick the way the name of the book and the name of the person who wrote it look on the cover. When there is a paper book, I make the back cover too, and also the part in the middle that holds the book together where the name of the book goes. On the back cover, there are words to say what the book is about, what kind of book it is, and how to find the people who make the books by using a computer. The big thing is that the book covers have to make people want to buy the book.

School: I am learning to listen to people talk about things that they don't like, so I can help them. I have been listening for years now. People talk to me about Gods, and the people they love, and what hurts them. I do my best to help them, but I don't have paper that says I can make money doing that. I need to learn how to listen the right way, so I can get paid for it in the long run.

Fun: I make things out of other things. I don't care what kind of things you give me, I will make other things out of it. I'm good at that.

-E-

[The original XKCD comic that inspired this meme]

There's still a lot going on, but being past the hardest bits of my grad school applications, and the Vanic Intensive presentation out in Maryland for the Nine Worlds Festival has cut down my stress tremendously, and with it a lot of my more intense anxiety symptoms.

I still have one hell of a to-do list, even where school is concerned, some of which I find almost as scary as the self-promotional essays, but from where I sit at the moment, my to-do list isn't overwhelming, just irritating.

In place of the overwhelming anxiety and depression, I find myself overwhelmed with gratitude and love for the people who have been so appreciative and supportive of me recently (well overall of course, but the overwhelm is for recent things).

In particular, I find myself overwhelmed to the point of tears that the professors at SCU who agreed to give me recommendation letters are being not only accepting and cooperative about having to deal with my confusion over special PDF forms that I didn't know I needed. They're being actively positive and almost enthusiastic about it. They really want me to succeed and return to SCU for real. They actually miss me.

I can't quite handle that thought, it's so contradictory to my expectations of school - even SCU.

So yeah, overwhelmed with yay.

-E-

For years I've had nightmares about being on a bridge as it breaks, or is flooded, or just goes somewhere I don't want to go. I have no idea if that's at all related to my current emotional dilemma.

Life is going quite well for me, overall. I'm happy with what I'm doing, the relationships I do have time for are working quite well. I have a sense of clarity about where I'm going in many ways. I feel like I've come through a year of tremendous change much improved, and am still making progress, though at less of a breakneck speed.

( So why do I feel so horrible about certain things? )

This whole thing feels so stupid, but I can't seem to get any gauge of where to draw the reality line internally on it.

-E-