INoGoToBloNoMo

I’m not going to blog (daily) no more.
I can’t take it. At the beginning of the month I had a couple of interesting things to talk about. Then I felt like a couple of boring posts were okay, because I’m trying, right? Now. I just don’t GiAFu. If you get my drift.
I don’t want to bore you, or myself. I’m done with daily.

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I Just Made This Soup

and it was so good that I must blog the recipe. No pictures. It all disappeared immediately.

SPICY VEGGIE SOUP

 2 c beef bone broth
1 c canned tomatoes, crushed
Pour these into a pot. Bring to a simmer and add these things to the pot:
1 diced onion
2 cloves smashed then diced garlic
1 small red bell pepper, diced into large chunks
2 or 3 hot peppers–I used long, meaty things that look like cayennes (I can’t remember what they are or which seed packet the seeds came from.) Two green and one red, all seeded and sliced into rings.
Let the soup simmer until the veggies are soft.
You will also need this stuff on standby:
1 large avocado, diced
shredded cheese

When you’re ready to serve the soup, put some of the avocado in the bottom of your bowl, top with soup and then shredded cheese.
This stuff was so good that we ate every bit of it for lunch. Nothing is as good as a warm, nourishing, delicious soup on a cold, blustery day like this one.

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Red Tent

Tonight is the first Sunday after the new moon. Women friends and I gather this evening. Maybe I will talk about this in another post, maybe share some photos, or maybe not. But tonight, this is what I am doing.

Blessings to you, wherever and whoever you are.

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A Letter to Young Mothers

Dear Woman,

Please, know that this child is yours. This little, frightening, alien being is yours and you can make the necessary decisions for keeping it fed and safe. Remember back into your great-great-great grandmother’s memories and intuit what is needed. Is your child hungry? Feed her. Bare your beautiful, round breast and allow her to nurse. If your breasts are barren or gone, warm a bottle and feed that baby while she is nestled close to your heartbeat. This is what mothers do.

Is your baby crying? Think about that for a moment. Is your baby crying? If he is, why is he crying? You know, deep in those memories you have an answer. Listen to yourself. Is he wet or overtired? Maybe he is cold or has a belly ache because he has never recovered from an immunization or dose of system-stripping antibiotics. Perhaps he only needs to be held.

Hold your child. Think of how it would feel to have been held tightly for months, for all memory and then to be ejected into a cold, bright world where your entire beinghood consists of being moved from one plastic container to the next? Hold this tiny person in your arms, against your body, feeding it your warmth, crooning your heartbeat into her tiny little ears.

Is your baby ill? Take care of him. Do what you must, pediatrician or herbalist or chiropractor. Whatever your healing modality, whatever the current concern dictates, do it. If you feel insistent about seeking help, go, seek it.

It is right to trust your round, moon, cyclic instincts when it comes to your baby. Trusting yourself does not mean shunning the help of others. It simply means giving yourself permission to be the perfect authority on this one, small being who you are closer to, more familiar with, than anyone else is likely ever to be.

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Nothing to Say

This Nanoblopomo is great. It’s making me accountable to this blog. However! I don’t always have a formulated thought that I want to blog about. Planning out a daily theme? No thanks. Pre-blogging? Well, it’s great in theory but I am too busy play catch up to play get ahead.

Tonight there is a lot on my mind. There’s just nothing to say. Tomorrow is a new day, hopefully there will be something with more meat then.

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Dream Diary

Yesterday, I purchased this Kindle e-book. It was mentioned on a Facebook page I follow and it was only $1.99, so what the heck?

I’ve been reading it because it is deeply interesting. My library has many occult titles, along with several Christian Bibles, The Book of Mormom and the Mystical Kabbalah. Keep in mind my anthropological background. I’m almost helpless in the face of things like this. Only this book is different.

The book is written from an incredibly flexible point of view and so it can be of interest to those only reading, to the magickal neophyte and to the old hand (or crone). One of the things that I have been reminded of, thanks to the book, is that I really do need to keep a dream journal.

Several years ago I stopped doing this due to some personal strife with a group dreaming circle. Well, with one of the people in the group, not the group itself. Anyway, I was scarred and left the intentional review of dreams for a while in order to heal. Now I am ready again.

This morning I woke up and wrote my most vividly remembered dream down in as much detail as possible before rising and beginning my day. It was wonderful. Two huge sketchbook pages filled with script about the dream filled without a breath. With the dream out and on the page, it did not haunt me like some dreams are prone to do. It was finished, as if the simple act of writing it out is a ceremony of completion.

I am encouraging my young daughter to dream journal, as well. This is very centering and curative. Do you keep a dream journal? How do you find it helpful?

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A Good Evening

In the midst of some extremely intense life events that I am not going to blog about, an evening like this is An Event.

There are candles with life left in them in all of the holders and they are burning. The little lanterns the girl child and I made for Diwali are lit and flickering gloriously. We stood at the kitchen counter and ate hummus, pimento cheese spread and guacamole with crudite and raw almonds for supper. Billie Holliday is on the Ipod and her music makes me feel all urbane and upper crust. There is good wine in my jar glass. The tree looks just like that.

It was a beautiful day and it is turning into a wonderful night. Simple things.

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