Author: Camilla Laurentine

Rant: I’m Still a Pagan… And You’re Still a Jerk.

~ Camilla Laurentine ~ 10 Comments

The issue with loving your home life as much as I do and being so busy with it is that sometimes you just lack much to say on your blog… Also, you other bloggers are so prolific in my google reader, that some days all I do online is sit and read and read and read. I could be held responsible since I follow so many blogs, but for once I feel like passing the blame onto others since it’s because you are AWESOME.

Plus everyone has been discussion about what Pagans should call themselves. If we should all be Pagans. How much easier identifying as a polytheist is, etc. For some reason this discussion kind of caused my eyes to glaze. I guess I’m of the “call yourself what you want” school. Being so solitary in my practice, and not being comfortable with my past experience with face-to-face (or sometimes in-your-face) Pagan community has left me kind of sighing over everything involved with this discussion.

I am a Pagan, though. Differing opinions would put me in as a “soft” polytheist, and some more hardliners would consider my view that all Divine beings eventually lead to one would try to pin me as a monotheist because of it. Yes, I believe in the Gods. I believe they’re both separate beings, but I believe they’re made up of the same unifying Divine we all are, which in turn makes them inseparable. And it’s that all-is-one mentality that keeps me from being able to claim I’m any specific thing beyond a Pagan. Beyond Paganism, my modern American religion, with all the melting pot of my spiritual upbringing and conversing with the gods, has left me without a label beyond Pagan.

So far I think the closest I’ve ever come to finding a group that believes in the same view of the Divine as me would be those practicing Haitian Vodou. A lot of the religion speaks to me, and I adore learning about it – In fact, if I went back to school for religious studies, I’d probably focus on the group of religions that belong in this family. But I don’t practice. No Loa has shown up and demanded I practice, and I don’t feel a particular need to do so.

In practice there is some overlap of belief with Religio Romana that I appreciate. And my ancestor worship is a major part of my practice.

My religion doesn’t have a name, and I like it that way. I love the Roman aspects of my beliefs like crazy. I work towards maintaining Roman values for myself. If I tried to call myself a member of Religio Romana the majority (or perhaps just the outspoken) of those practicing Roman polytheism would chase me around with pitchforks despite sharing quite a lot with them.

For years now I’ve been told that eclecticism is a thing that doesn’t lead to the pure spiritual path that practicing a single religion does. For me I feel like it has. Working with personal gnosis on top of research and education has taught me a very revealing thing about myself: If I don’t believe in it all, I have problems believing at all.

So… I’m a Pagan. I will remain a Pagan. I will continue to resist having to label myself beyond it, and I think in writing this I’ve come to the main reason why…

Because I’m sick and tired of all of these high and mighty opinions coming from everyone else. Glad your religious path is working for you. Glad you are finding meaning in your life. Glad your gods are paying attention to the love and devotion you give them. Really, I am. But please, for the love of all that is right and good, stop and think about what you sound like when you start in talking about the other side.

It is insulting when you consider me a monotheist, because I don’t consider myself one. And stating that I’m convincing myself that I’m not is really pretty self-important. I’m a human, which means that I’m never going to be 100% sure my beliefs are 100% true. I’m always going to be questioning and trying to figure things out… I think that’s part of what the purpose of humans is; I think that blind faith is dangerous. And if you want to consider me agnostic because of it, so be it… Though since I don’t consider myself agnostic, and you’re using it in a demeaning manner, I’m not sure how it is that you can get all bent out of shape that Pagan is a disparaging Christian term when people call you it. Seems a bit hypocritical if you ask me.

(And as a side note, I find the terms “hard polytheism” and “soft polytheism” to be insulting, too. Typically because it’s used by those who speak on “soft” in a way that makes it seem like they consider this worldview less valid. There is nothing soft about my beliefs, thank you. Figure out another way to express your concept of my beliefs when talking to me, because if you pretend ignorance on the derogatory term “fluffy” within this community and how soft could easily be taken to mean that, I’m going to call you on your shit.)

I feel really, really put out of place when I read opinions about eclecticism being a weak path. Like somehow my beliefs not being easily labeled and categorized makes me religiously lesser than others who can say “I am (such and such).” I’m absolutely thrilled (and I’m not being sarcastic) that you are able to find a religion that speaks to you 100% or that you are able to at least overlook the differences. I can’t. I’ve tried, and it doesn’t work. And I am tired of feeling like my belief system is anything less than yours just because no one else practices exactly like I do, and I understand that most religions are a giant mish-mash of the religions that came before them.

Plus those pants make you look bloated. Okay, maybe I’m just butthurt. But seriously, people, please think before you start writing about what you think of other people. I don’t think I’ve even gotten my point across, because after weeks of this all I can do is rant still.

Awesome. Only not at all.

Sharing a Song

~ Camilla Laurentine

My friend Daniel had me listen to this song yesterday, and I can’t stop listening to it. With a title like Gay Pirates, you don’t expect something so… Utterly sweet and wonderful. And seriously? The line “I’ll love you still in hell?” Amazing.

I just had to share.

The Death of an Enemy and the Ghost of Another

~ Camilla Laurentine

(Note: This was written when I should be sleeping, so please excuse rambling, typos, misspellings, and generally wackiness.  I should probably wait until I sleep to post things, but what would be the fun in that?)

Yesterday was International Pagan Coming Out Day. I was going to talk about it, but between my body declaring it International Stay In Bed Day and all this bin Laden junk I sort of lost sight of where I stand on being out.

It’s funny to me how the whole Pagan Coming Out Day and bin Laden’s death sort of melded together for me into one giant bucket of yuck. I made the personal choice not to draw attention to myself any more than I had to… I’m not exactly in the broom closet, but I wanted to take a moment to let people know what my experience has been like. People who don’t read my blog and probably don’t know it exists. People who are Facebook friends with me…

But then I started reading all the things people were saying about bin Laden. I have my own feelings about the whole deal, but once again I’ve decided that it is easier to just keep my mouth shut while emotions are running high. I will tell you, though, that I am absolutely horrified by the sheer number of times I read “may he rot in hell.”

It’s odd what will re-open old wounds… Apparently for me it was seeing the judging, harsh words of people I have known/know in my life over the death of an enemy.

You see, I was obnoxiously out about my new found religion back in my teenage years. I didn’t have much to lose then, and I was rightfully prone to outrage over people not accepting me for who I was. In a way, that has probably become a piece of my social anxiety. I don’t think I deflected as much as I stored away the bullying and harassment for later in life.

Being out as a teenager didn’t accomplish much of anything… Other than almost 11 years later my high school still has a dress code policy that bans “occult jewelry and make-up.” Way to go, Indianola, Iowa! At some point (when I’m in a better place to revisit the memories), I will talk more about being a Pagan in high school… Today isn’t it.

Today, though, I saw people who battered me with their religious views in the past not practice the compassion their religion asks of them. I saw judgment being passed. I saw lots of God talk. And I don’t know… This little box shoved into the dark corner of my mind was opened, allowing memories of sobbing in anger during the week of graduation, because I simply couldn’t understand how my high school could sanction religious events as a public school while not allowing me to wear a small sign of my faith and being so angry that people were willing to condemn me for my beliefs when I tried my hardest to be a good person.

It’s amazing to realize how much pain is still there for me. Last week, I was told by a spiritual advisor that I needed to let go of the past. I was pretty sure that I had, but apparently I’ve just pushed it pretty deep instead. It kind of makes me nervous to think what else may be lurking underneath the surface.

I’m in an odd place. Knowing that I am walking the path of healing myself so that I may go into ministry without finding myself crumbling, I have to stop and screw up my face over the absolute fear of being judged by people. About a month ago, though, I quietly changed my Facebook religious view statement from Unitarian Universalist to Eclectic Pagan. This may seem slightly minor, but I’m Facebook friends with my grandmother… Who has on more than one occasion said some very, um… Disconcerting things in regards to her totalitarian view of religion… Involving but not limited to my having a hole only Jesus can fill.

I also had the International Pagan Coming Out Day icon as my photo on Facebook for a few days… So right. Not really in the closet for the most part? But I wanted to share a bit more of myself with those willing to pay attention…

You know… Until bin Laden’s death reminded me that sometimes the people I know and/or love can be really judgmental, mean, and lacking in compassionate thinking… Or at the very least lacking in the ability to keep from publicly showing it.

My heart is broken over it all. I think, at least for tonight/today, I’ll blame it on hormones. The block of cheese and half a bag of pretzels I just consumed while writing this, the cramps that are plaguing me, and the fatigue I’m experiencing may very well back me up on this one.

I think all I can do tonight is go to bed, say my prayers and a few extra, and pass out.

(Haha, I said block of cheese and back me up in the same sentence!)

So. That was my International Pagan Coming Out Day… Did you do anything for the day? Did you blog about it – Either in support of or in criticism against it? Please share with me! I’m really curious about how things went and how the entire concept was received by the general populace but also the Pagan community!

Hi at 2 in the Morning!

~ Camilla Laurentine

This is just a quick note to say that I have been in Memphis, Tennessee for the last week visiting friends and loved ones.  Tomorrow afternoon I get back on the bus to go home.  I have so much to write about!  Argh!  It kills me to have to go to bed now instead of rambling on and on and on like I want to.  Therefore, I leave you with a few pictures I took from Elmwood Cemetery instead because I am a closet goth…  But seriously it is ridiculously beautiful there.

My Lararium Tour

~ Camilla Laurentine ~ 4 Comments

We moved in July, and I have been absolutely hideous about getting things unpacked.  Plus it seems to me that we’ve just recently really been thinking about our living space beyond “OMG, we live here now!!!”

Today I set up my Lararium.  For those of you not familiar with Religio Romana, allow me to explain that this is an altar to the Lares.  Specifically the Lares Familiares, who are the guardians of the family, and Lares Domestici, who are the guardians of the home.  This also serves as a point for the Penates (ancestor/gods/guardians), Hecate (my matron), and a general launch pad of daily worship (offerings, prayers, etc).  I live in a small space; Vesta has a shrine in my kitchen space that I’m working on, and Apollon…  Well, he and I haven’t decided where his shrine is going.

This probably isn’t quite what most practicing Religio do, but I’m still wrapping my brain around the fact that I may very well be practicing Relgio on my own terms.  Honoring my ancestors has always been a large part of my practice.

When I was little, my grandfather built each of the granddaughters a hutch to house our toy china collections.  To this day I marvel over the details.  He went so far as to put notches in to hold up plates.  We moved it into the house thinking we’d store my heirloom stemware in it, but it proved too small.  So it returned to my plan of building a Lararium with it.  It sits in our dining space.

You can also see my first broom.  Amusingly enough, I’ve had it since I was about five.  My mother will tell you that I have always had a “thing” for brooms.  Much like black cats.

Hecate sits among my orchids.  When I finally settle on an idol of Apollon, he will likely go here, too.  What this picture isn’t showing are my printed plate of Kali (also honored in our house) and a large painted leaf with Helios (Sol) and Eos (Aurora) on his chariot with his winged horses.

The main surface space is for my offerings.

Behind the glass doors rest various relics to those who have passed: My grandfather’s pipe and the collars of two pets we said good-bye to.  Also sitting inside is a statue of a deer, which is my spirit animal.  To be included are other pieces that are still tucked away in a box in my studio some where – For instance, my great-grandmother’s crochet hook and another grandfather’s high school class ring.  My photos of them will have to be scanned and made smaller to fit inside.  It’s pretty bare right now, but given time this entire space will be packed, I’m sure, as I include rocks and other pretty things for their enjoyment.

The drawer will hold working tools.  Right now my old ritual blade is housed there along with a bunch of feathers.  Said feathers are being used in my wedding, but I figured they could use a little spiritual bath of sorts.

Underneath I have storage space for extra dishes, candles, herbs, and religious what-have-yous.  Which leads me to believe that I may have the perfect space set up for what I do.

Do you have a picture or blog post about your worshiping space?  I’d love to see it!

Monday Morning Meditation: Mourning Mouse

~ Camilla Laurentine ~ 2 Comments
Jasper, Mouse (1991-2011), and Bully (1999-2011) in 2006

Two days after posting about Mouse, we were forced to say good-bye to him.  Time has gone on, and in our home we find ourselves missing him at the strangest times – Cleaning out the litter box being one of them.  He always made a mess.  We always hated it.  Now we find ourselves missing it.

My studio, which is where he spent most of his time, has been abandoned for now.  I just can’t manage to spend time there.  I go in, grab what I need, and take it elsewhere.  At least I’ve stopped crying every time I don’t find him in there.  This week I’ll open up the windows and hope that the fresh air will suck out some of the void.

Even Jasper has experienced the loss.  Granted, Mouse hated Jasper, but Jasper loved him anyway.  Now he freaks out due to separation anxiety if Mr. NaW or I leave for even five minutes.  I’m already talking about getting another cat, but only because of Jasper.  Mr. NaW isn’t happy with it.  In my defense, I’ve talked about a new cat for years.  It’ll be a while before we bring another one home, but I worry about Jasper’s emotional health.

I wanted to write Mouse a letter, but I’m just not ready to yet.  I thought about posting it here, but in honesty I seem to prefer to mourn in the comfort of my own home.  Ideally alone.  That is what the last month has taught me, at least, between the loss of my mother’s dog and Mouse.  Wonderful, wonderful Mouse.

I miss him.

Pagan Blog Prompts: Magic(k)

~ Camilla Laurentine

What IS it? What does it mean to you? How can it exist? How does it work? What’s with the extra ‘k’, anyhow?

Expound as you see fit.

 – Pagan Blog Prompts, 3/31/11

Magic is an interesting subject to me, and I am endlessly fascinated with the different ways it is used in different areas of history and the world. I think, perhaps, that’s where the seeds of my interest in religious studies started. When I started to put it all together and see the common threads, I became more understanding that we are all kind of doing the same thing despite having different words and beliefs.

My personal understanding of magic is that it’s basically very powerful prayer. You build your energy through intentional acts and push it out into the world. In a way, I think it sends off a chain reaction, energy bumping energy, directed towards whatever your goal may be.

Magic, to me, is just energy. Performing magic is simply sticking your hand into the mix and guiding your intentions towards the goal. Sometimes that’s enough, but most of the time one has to continue guiding it by working towards the goal at the same time. For instance, if a person casts a spell to get a job, they have to keep looking for a job.

Magic is sacred. It is in everything, yes, but as humans we have the ability to use it like clay to mold it to our desires.

It’s the same thing with praying. As humans, we have the very fortunate luck of being able to connect with our higher power and ask them for things. However, we are responsible for working for what we want. If you’re not opening up the door to get that new job by searching, applying, interviewing, the likelihood of someone showing up at your door and offering you one is pretty slim.

I don’t practice magic. Even in the direst circumstances, I never have the urge to do so. This doesn’t mean in the future something may pop up that I feel it’s necessary to employ it. I just put my faith in my gods. My relationship with them makes me feel confident that my prayers will be answered, though not always in a manner that makes sense right away. I worship them, and they take care of me. They are the gods, and I am the human… They know better than me, you know?

Thinking on it, I guess I’ve learned how to incorporate a few things into my life that I don’t think about anymore… For instance, when my friend felt the need to severe ties that were resulting in an evil eye situation, I rubbed her down with an egg… That’s about the extent of it.

Talismans? Sure. Purified crystals? You betcha. Colored candles on my altar to signal requests? Yup. But for the most part, despite these being magical in concept, I don’t… Well, I guess I don’t practice “high magic.” I don’t chant incantations – Does anyone else feel silly rhyming? I am not a fantasy novel.

Not too long ago I discovered that my former teacher and group of Wiccans performed a spell to have a football team win for local media. A football team… Because in a world with so many other things happening, we worry about if our team is going to win a game.

It made me sad. Not only because magic shouldn’t be a publicity stunt, but because it seems to me that we shouldn’t plug up energy fields with trivial matters. In a world where many of us live pay check-to-pay check with the risk of losing everything, don’t have a cure for cancer, and are experiencing natural disasters more often as the Earth changes… Well, I understand some people are fanatics about sports, but we should be looking at the bigger picture. I won’t even get into the politics of Pagans performing magic for the media today.

The spell didn’t work, by the way. While I won’t say the Gods aren’t sports fans, I guess they had their money down on the other team that day. And as we should all know by now, the Gods’ will trumps human desire.

Frugalista: Yogurt Cheese is Super Easy!

~ Camilla Laurentine ~ 2 Comments

As a well-known 12-step program has taught my family, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.  My problem is good cheese.  I can’t handle not having it, but my brain also can’t handle paying for it.

Not to make light of addiction, because my, um…  Passion for goat cheese is a far cry from one.  However paying the $5 to $7 price for those becoming logs of goat cheese at the supermarket for a mere 4 ounces nearly kills me.  The problem, beyond being proudly cheap, is that once I get it home I will sit and eat the entire thing in one sitting.  Sometimes by itself.  And, well, sitting isn’t really the proper word for it.  It’s more of an ecstatic writhing.  Complete with moaning if I happen to be alone – Which I usually am since I wouldn’t want anyone else to witness me partaking in rolling around on the ground speaking in tongues over food.

I figure as long as I’m not naked while doing this, I’m not hitting an all-time low.  But summer is coming up, so I wouldn’t rule it out completely just yet once the weather is warmer.

In my quest to be more in touch with my food and save lots of money, I’ve discovered that yogurt cheese is much cheaper to make and is an acceptable substitution.  I picked up one of the larger bulk containers of plain yogurt yesterday for $2; granted it’s not organic.  (We’re still not 100% organic around here, but that’s another blog post altogether.)

I don’t have cheesecloth currently, but it’s the ideal thing to use.  Instead, just this once, I stole a couple of Mr. NaW’s coffee filters, because my floursack towels are all dirty.  I’ve found that floursack towels work.  So if you have them (everyone should!) and a lack of cheesecloth, by all means use them…  Just not the ones you use for household chemicals obviously.

Here is my recipe-in-progress*:

Yields approximately 2 cups of soft cheese.

3 cups yogurt
Dash of salt
Dash of pepper
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1 teaspoon dried dill
1 teaspoon dried chives

  1. Mix it all up in a bowl
  2. Line a metal strainer with 2 layers of cheese cloth or flour sack.  Put yogurt and herb mixture onto your cloth.
  3. At this point you can optionally wrap your yogurt with the cloth and begin wringing out some of the moisture from it.  This will mean you don’t have to wait as long for awesomeness, but don’t feel the need to if you’re patient.  Return to strainer.
  4. Put the cloth on the strainer again, and put the strainer on top of a bowl so that the water can drain into it.
  5. Put the bowl in the refrigerator for a day or two.  I suggest dumping the liquid from time-to-time just so you can check out how your cheese is doing.
  6. Transfer to a clean, sealed container – Like the yogurt container if it had a lid!  This should keep about two weeks.
  7. Feel less neurotically guilty about the price of deliciousness as you devour it.  Clothing optional.

Even those who are less hardcore in DIYing than I am may want to give this a try!  I mean how much easier can it get than mixing things up in a bowl and basically wandering off for a couple days?

I’m pondering the future with a sun-dried tomato and basil mix.  Or maybe garlic overload.  What other things can you think to add in with this?

*Warning: My recipes-in-progress rarely involve exact measurements.  I hold the title of Queen Eyeballer in my home.  I’ve successfully made cookies in the past with no measuring cups or spoons, so I can’t be too bad at it.  However, I’d start with small amounts of seasoning and taste as you add more.  Rarely does anyone get as thrilled over dill as I do.

Our Friend Mouse

~ Camilla Laurentine ~ 2 Comments
Mouse decided to sleep on my basil starts.

There is a certain art to sharing your home with a geriatric cat. The truth is that it is all too easy to find yourself dreading the what-ifs and whens instead of appreciating the time you have with your companion. Yesterday I spent some time angry with the gods, because they seemed to be delivering the exact opposite of what I’d been praying for – That my beloved Siamese, Mouse, would pass peacefully in his sleep and not have to take the stressful trip to the vet in his final moments. This day, however, has turned into a slightly better outcome I suppose. Mouse will be 20-years-old in July. He has been in my life since I was 9. My fiancé and I took him in when my mother was no longer able to take care of him due to moving, and he has survived two moves of his own with minimal adjustment problems. At 19, he experienced a 5 hour car ride, nearly being overdosed on Valium due to inadequate vet care (I’m saying this as nicely as I can, but I hold a lot of anger and resentment towards the vet in question), and relearned how to master going up and down stairs with stiff hips. He discovered a passion for canned food and mashed potatoes. And he generally gets attention lavished upon him even when he is being an annoying jerk. Granted, age has not been kind to him, and unfortunately I didn’t listen to my intuition telling me to get him into the vet sooner. And, once again, little day-to-day changes tend to not be noticed until it’s too late. Therefore, my gigantic 35-pound snarling, biting watch cat has been reduced to a very frail 4.3-pound cuddle monster that tends to forget to wash his face. We were gone over the weekend to New Orleans. My mother took care of him and Jasper while we were gone, dutifully coming to fuss over them twice a day. Our departure, though, depressed Mouse. One day he came half-way down the stairs to see who came in before going up to his room. After a couple days he simply quit coming downstairs, having given up on us coming home. When we got home on Monday, he was happy to see us. But he’s always been a moody fellow, so on Tuesday when he didn’t hobble down the stairs I didn’t think much of it. Well, that’s not exactly true. I thought he was mad and sulking. Plus some days he simply sleeps all day, so it’s not unusual to have a Mouse-free day downstairs from time-to-time. On more than one occasion, I stopped to wonder where he was but talked myself out of checking on him. I was wrong. 6:30 PM passed, and I finally went upstairs to ask him if he was hungry. He usually starts bugging me for food about 4:30, though daylight saving time isn’t something he really grasps the concept of. When I walked into the room he spends most of his time in, he lifted his head and let out a helpless cry. It was then that I realized something was wrong. I rushed over to discover that our modem cord had dislodged from its space. Somehow Mouse had managed to get himself caught in it. I couldn’t get it off of him, and I couldn’t figure out exactly where it even was on his body – Though I was immediately thankful it wasn’t around his neck. The cord had wrapped tightly around his loose skin in front of his right hip, and somehow it was wrapped under his leg pinning it in an odd position. He was too weak to put up a fight with me when I started trying to get him untangled. He didn’t fight when my fiancé stepped in to attempt the same thing. It didn’t take long for me to decide we needed to cut it off of him, because there was no way to pull it without possibly hurting him. Not knowing exactly where the cord was wrapped made that an even scarier prospect. So the fiancé carefully snipped him out, and the cord that came off of him was completely disfigured and twisted. There were no teeth marks. It’s hard to say how long Mouse was trapped, which has a heavy weight in regards to guilt. He’d wet himself, he was dehydrated, and he was too weak to stand. I gently picked him up and put him by his water so he could drink, which he did, and when he was given his canned food he gobbled it down. Then he started walking, though it was obviously hard for him. He stumbled about and limped. His hip seemed to be sitting in a weird position. But he was putting weight on it, and he wasn’t trying to get away from us fussing over him. Eventually he made his way to the litter box, and with some struggle he used it. I brought my mom over for another pair of eyes to see what was going on. She was surprised to see him doing as well as he was considering what I’d told her over the phone. So the three of us decided we would wait it out and see what happened instead of taking an emergency trip to the vet. Later in the evening he came downstairs. Yesterday came. I stayed at home to watch him. He didn’t go very long with walking before laying down and sleeping. He seemed very uncomfortable. But he was still nibbling on food, drinking water, and urinating. Then our other cat started hovering with me, not going beyond a few feet of Mouse at any given time other than the hour we played fetch together. In the afternoon, I couldn’t take it any longer. I’d gotten online to read about senior cats and started worrying about all the other problems we’d had for years with him – Most starting so long ago that I just thought they were normal. Eventually, I couldn’t take it any longer. He seemed so weak and frail, and he was starting to be a little unresponsive when it came to me petting him. I called the vet and was told to bring him in. Mouse didn’t put up a fight yesterday at all, which is unlike him even in his old age. While I waited for my mother, I went into the bathroom and cried – Afraid that I would upset my precious cat if I got too emotional around him. He’s always been one to come and check on me when I’m crying. I genuinely thought I would not be bringing Mouse home at all, but at the very least I’d not be bringing him home the same day. An hour later, I received the phone call. It was both good news and bad news. First of all, he was sore and probably had pulled a muscle in his hip. But nothing was broken or out-of-place skeletally. This was good. However, the vet was quick to say that Mouse is suffering from kidney failure. It’s to be expected in older animals – Only three weeks ago my mother’s dog was diagnosed with the same problem, though other health issues resulted in having him euthanized not too long after that. The vet said that Mouse will just have to deal with his injury’s pain, because his kidney function is so low he didn’t want to give him any medicine for it. I agreed that was a good idea, because really he wasn’t in extreme pain. Having a pain disorder myself, I’ve got a decent understanding of pain and what it does. But I feel confident in my decision to agree with the vet – By the time we went to pick Mouse up he was moving better than he had in days. What the vet did suggest, though, was to start Sub-Q fluid therapy if we felt comfortable doing it. After discussing it just a little (say about 20 seconds), my fiancé and I decided that we were willing to consider it. While there, I asked the vet to show us how to do it, and I felt a little more comfortable with the idea after seeing how well Mouse reacted to it. Granted, he wasn’t feeling well, and once he gets feeling better it may be a bit more of a fight. We’ll see, though. We will have to give Mouse injections of fluids every other day under his skin. He is decidedly going to be swollen and lumpy from the liquid. I’m obviously terrified of this, but everyone keeps assuring me that we’ll all get used to doing it very quickly. Right now I’m not as worried about the actual poking part but making sure all the tubing is hooked up right. I’m sure as soon as I have it all put together and have the needle in hand, I’ll feel the grip of fear there. The good news is that after 24 hours, the first treatment given by our vet has brought about a lot of changes in our dear friend. He has taken to talking to me again, though his voice isn’t as strong as it used to be. For the first time in I’m not sure how long, he has started to sit back on his rear end instead of letting it hover on the ground. And last night he put up a hissing and spitting protest to Jasper trying to clean him – A good sign that he’s getting his fight back. That’s just the thing… Mouse is not ready to leave his life. Inevitably he will at some point, but today just isn’t the day for it. He’s more interested in sleeping on my basil starts or eating mashed potatoes. And honestly my fiancé and I aren’t willing to have him leave us before it’s time. He’s been in my life since I was 9, after all, and as long as he’s still fighting and coping with his illness I’m willing to help him embrace the journey of his life. I’ve known him long enough to know to understand what he’s telling me. And he’s telling me he’s not done living just yet. Am I worried and scared? Yes. Do I realize that taking care of a special needs cat will probably require more time at home? Yes. But in the last few months, oddly more than any other time in my life, I’ve learned that I’m tough. I can handle this, and when I can’t I have my fiancé to pick up when I need help – That is one of our greatest strengths as a couple, and when it’s needed I do it for him, too. This is our family, after all. Unconventional perhaps, but family all the same. We all love each other, and we all care for each other. So we will do this with dedication and grace. And through all of it I will work my hardest at taking this journey with Mouse as a spiritual path – Practicing the art of living in the present instead of the future or the past. When I look at it that way, at the beginning of the final stretch, I find myself almost thankful that I’ve been given the opportunity to experience not only the unconditional love of a warm soul but also the chance to learn how to enjoy the little things that makes life so truly special.

Froggy Came A-Courtin’

~ Camilla Laurentine

A rather hideous cold overtook me for about a week and derailed regular posting.  Then I spent the rest of the time getting ready for an insane journey to New Orleans.  I was only in the city for about 16 hours and most of it was spent sleeping.  I can’t help but be disappointed about my first trip to New Orleans, because other than seeing Congo Square I didn’t really have any time to get a very good feel for the things about the city that I have an interest in.  Heck, it doesn’t even feel like I was there.  It looks like the fiancé and I will be honey mooning there, though.

I can say, though, that I’m happy to be home.  Waking up in my own bed and getting back to see my container of radishes thriving was quite nice.  The plants that are growing seem to be thriving.

About three weeks ago, the frogs came out of their slumber around my home – Signaling to me that spring really was approaching.  I’ve never lived close enough to a body of water that allowed me to experience the arrival of the frogs.  Once again, I feel very blessed about where we are currently living.  With a creek running about 100 feet away, I am gifted with the Spring Peepers’ singing.

Last night while I was outside, I looked down to see one of my amphibian friends after hearing a strange noise by my feet.  As I watched it, it continued to hop repeatedly into my front door as if trying to jump through it.  I’m not sure if he was just trying to get away from me, he couldn’t see the giant white door in front of him, or exactly why he was determined to batter himself against something.  I’m assuming he was trying to get away from me and panicked, though, because when I stepped back more he calmed for a little while.

Eventually, though, I needed to go back inside.  I bent down in hopes of gently picking him up to take out to the yard.  No such luck.  He took to hopping back into things.  I’m a miserable frog catcher, because he was so little, I was afraid to hurt him.  I explained to him that there was a cat on the other side of the door that would love to hurt him, and I was just trying to move him to safety.  We finally agreed to him hopping along the door until he was away from it with the help of my novice frog-herding skills.

It was a nice welcome home for me.  Being the omen-believing girl that I am, I can only assume that it meant something.  In modern association, the frog is considered a sacred animal to Hecate.  (Note: perhaps ancient association, too, but I’ve not found the actual source of it beyond scholarly assumption that she evolved from Heket in Egypt.)  It was determined to get inside my home – Hecate ruling doorways.  Message from the goddess I hold so dear?  I’m thinking so.

I’ve not meditated on it.  Nor do I really plan to on a very formal level.  It means something, but I’m trying my hardest not to read what meaning I want into it.  Reading over various sources for what Frog means has given me a good foundation of understanding and possibilities…

Healing?  Fertility?  Self-transformation?  Yup, I need some of it all right now, thank you.

Okay, I’ve babbled on a little here.  I’m alive and well(ish).  I need to get my baking for the week done and catch up with family.  Hopefully tomorrow I’ll get written what I’ve promised…  Or something.

Oh! And I’m almost at 100 followers! Wow!