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dia de los escritores . . . tiemblo.
It's November, and I've made a writing journal. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
necreavit. Fear.
No candle last night, as what I thought was a full book of matches turned out to me empty; but that was no real difficulty, since the light pollution around here is so bad I can read by ambient light. I did go down to the creek, though, for my own All Hallows worship.
I've always been somewhat chary of the extent to which the new-age type religions have pre-empted the idea of worship through communing with nature. I've always felt that the greatest way to thank the Creator is to openly rejoice in this Creation-- even if, like me, you're fairly sure that his main role in Creation is cheating at dice, and then lying about it afterward. All Saints and All Souls, along with Pentecost, Epiphany, and Palm Sunday, (and of course Reformation Day, but only because I fangirl Catherin von Bora) are my favorite church holidays, and to me they are all celebrations of life on the Earth. Epiphany celebrates the beginning of life, and the gifts it offers; Palm Sunday is about finding hope and joy in those gifts, even if you know things will go badly; Pentecost is about going out in the world, and using your gifts, even if everyone thinks you're nuts. On All Hallows, we find the true joy of living in the world by remembering that life is not forever, so every bit is precious.
Now, if I'd wanted to perform some sort of ritual involving dead birds and the calling down of Ochun or someone, I could have (well, except for the appalling lack of fire), since I kinda took the long way down to the creek and ended up walking by the rec center, where a good half-a-dozen birds had killed themselves against the huge windows to the pool. Instead, I just hiked on down to the creek, and settled myself on the comfortably pebbly beach with an ancient tree trunk for a pillow. I sang a few of my favorite hymns, prayed for the first time in I don't know how long, and as usual was greatly cheered by how few things I could think of to whine to Him about, and ended up mostly giving thanks.
At midnight, of course, I toasted "Harry James Potter, The Boy Who Lived, May the Hair on His Toes Never Fall Off." Then I read Stephen King's On Writing till I got too sleepy to squint at the pages, and drifted in an out of a nap for a while. Was suddenly reminded that we don't control as much of the world as we think we do when what looked for all the world like a bobcat crossed the creek a few dozen yards downstream of me. I'd meant to stay out all night, but I got too chilly to sleep anymore, even wrapped in several layers of wool cloak, by about three, and walked back home, as I'd been hoping to get up fairly early Saturday morning. So that was my Hallowe'en.
Other than that, there's not been much going on here but laundry. Washed my sheets for the first time this semester-- very excited.
necreavit. Fear.No candle last night, as what I thought was a full book of matches turned out to me empty; but that was no real difficulty, since the light pollution around here is so bad I can read by ambient light. I did go down to the creek, though, for my own All Hallows worship.
I've always been somewhat chary of the extent to which the new-age type religions have pre-empted the idea of worship through communing with nature. I've always felt that the greatest way to thank the Creator is to openly rejoice in this Creation-- even if, like me, you're fairly sure that his main role in Creation is cheating at dice, and then lying about it afterward. All Saints and All Souls, along with Pentecost, Epiphany, and Palm Sunday, (and of course Reformation Day, but only because I fangirl Catherin von Bora) are my favorite church holidays, and to me they are all celebrations of life on the Earth. Epiphany celebrates the beginning of life, and the gifts it offers; Palm Sunday is about finding hope and joy in those gifts, even if you know things will go badly; Pentecost is about going out in the world, and using your gifts, even if everyone thinks you're nuts. On All Hallows, we find the true joy of living in the world by remembering that life is not forever, so every bit is precious.
Now, if I'd wanted to perform some sort of ritual involving dead birds and the calling down of Ochun or someone, I could have (well, except for the appalling lack of fire), since I kinda took the long way down to the creek and ended up walking by the rec center, where a good half-a-dozen birds had killed themselves against the huge windows to the pool. Instead, I just hiked on down to the creek, and settled myself on the comfortably pebbly beach with an ancient tree trunk for a pillow. I sang a few of my favorite hymns, prayed for the first time in I don't know how long, and as usual was greatly cheered by how few things I could think of to whine to Him about, and ended up mostly giving thanks.
At midnight, of course, I toasted "Harry James Potter, The Boy Who Lived, May the Hair on His Toes Never Fall Off." Then I read Stephen King's On Writing till I got too sleepy to squint at the pages, and drifted in an out of a nap for a while. Was suddenly reminded that we don't control as much of the world as we think we do when what looked for all the world like a bobcat crossed the creek a few dozen yards downstream of me. I'd meant to stay out all night, but I got too chilly to sleep anymore, even wrapped in several layers of wool cloak, by about three, and walked back home, as I'd been hoping to get up fairly early Saturday morning. So that was my Hallowe'en.
Other than that, there's not been much going on here but laundry. Washed my sheets for the first time this semester-- very excited.