Actually, I am quite familiar with Etsy, I’ve just largely avoided it because my wallet weeps whenever the page loads up in my browser. So, I’ve generally avoided it (except to look at the wool cloak I wish I could justify purchasing).
Over the weekend, however, I was looking into other matters and ended up stumbling on a picture I couldn’t resist looking closer at, so I clicked through to check out some nifty-looking altar candles decorated with three of The Morrigan’s aspects: Badb, Macha, and Morrigan. I loved the art, but wasn’t prepared at that moment to pay for those candles (I’m current considering e-candles to keep any of the seven kitties from going foom) and I about went back to my business at hand when I saw another picture that grabbed my attention from the same seller for a deck of cards titled The Morrigan Oracle by the seller, FeralMagic.
There was a bit of pile-on yesterday, which prompted a number of changes in my approach towards quite a few elements in my life. Not all have been implemented, but I have decided they must be made and I can be a stubborn mule when I decide I’ve had enough of something (see my sobriety and smobriety).
I am stuck on an image after I conjured it in my head a bit ago. It’s one of those pleasant images, a careless thing, and something I don’t often allow myself the liberty to entertain most days. As I’ve gotten older, such things seem both more important than ever, something taken for granted when I was young, and now threatening to be too frivolous for the likes of now-me with my responsibilities and sensible career with it’s sensible salary and sensible benefits.
Here in Minnesota, it seems like my two favorite seasons are always truncated into about a week apiece. Winter turns to summer with a drive-by visit from spring; then, we seem to get another overnight visit from autumn once summer has decided to give up the ghost and fade into winter. It might be my imagination, but that’s honestly how it feels to me. And a short little autumn seems like such a rip-off, if you ask me.
About once a year I threaten to start up some kind of connected online writing group along the lines of what I did with Sweet Immolation in mid-90s Seattle. You know, brew up a pot of coffee (or pour yourself a mighty fine IPA), “dial up” a Zoom or Google Meet or Twitter Space or something in that realm (I lean less towards the last and more towards the middle, but hey) and get together to do a scheduled “share” of each others’ writing (e.g., sign up for a time window), or otherwise bounce ideas off each other or ask for feedback. Maybe just a write-in (like a be-in). I dunno. Whatever it would be, there would be rules about respect for each other and time.
In the past there has seemed to be some interest, but not a strong interest. And I don’t know that I want to host it all on my own if there is enough interest.
I’m chucking the idea out there again and see if I have any nibbles. If so, I’ll set something up to talk about the idea further to see what really interests y’all. If there’s not enough interest, I’ll hang up my fishing pole and try again sometime in the next cycle.
And do what?You don’t drink don’t smoke what do you do?
It’s not like there’s a group that wants to go out, grab some coffee, chat about Old Ways while trying to unlock the mystery of runes and ogham. That’s strictly mead hall stuff there and, well, we’ve seen time and time again that Michael cannot hold his mead. Besides. it tends to lead toward argument. There’s not much that sadder than a bunch of older guys sitting around arguing about things that mostly belong to the dead. Sober. And drinking sad over-roasted (and possibly under brewed) coffee.
And poetry. Always turns out to be a competition (or so it seems). Or you get that one person who thinks that damn great because someone trying to get in their pants said they were great, not because they are the best thing since sliced (gassed?) Plath, and they raise their hand over and over to overshare. I had hoped that might have changed over time, but it has actually only increased in frequency based on the times I listened to twitter groups lately where people liked to hear the sound of their own voice. That’s not to say they are bad, but there’s always that one person who thinks they are hot shit and naturally assume you all should think they are hot shit too (because a awannabe lover said so; don’t get me started on the gal I auditioned to sing for a band about 25 years ago). I suppose you need those kinds of people to run a gathering or be at one to carry it on, but I never quite understood the mentality. I’m opposite. I’m tolerable. Some days. Okay — on rare occasions I write not-tripe stuff.
Forget about weaving groups. A visit to social media sites tells me that I wouldn’t be a good fit. At all.
As mentioned in an earlier post, after dumping out all of the junk in my head about such matters, I am trying to draw some correlations from a bunch of different sources about what seems like important details to develop around my personal cosmology. What I think is important, or what might require further thought on my part may or may not be in agreement with other sources (scholarly or otherwise). Your mileage may vary.
Interesting couple of thoughts as I did some independent refreshing my memory on Dagda in light of how I am reorganizing my brain, I came across a couple of interesting relationships. Only proceed past the “more” tag if this kind of thing is interesting to you. It very well might be a slog if it doesn’t float your boat.