Today is as good a day as any
Today is just as good as day as any
Today is just as good a day as any to bid farewell to the old and shepherd in the new.
Today is just as good a day as any to take the musings of days gone by to craft a new tomorrow
Today is just as good a day as any to touch the dreams that remain, as well as the hindrances that have hence kept them from breathing life.
Today is just as good a day as any to lay to rest the pieces of you and the world around you that preclude the You your heart and soul longs for.
Today is just as good a day as any.
I mean this to say, if today does not feel like a new year, take comfort in the arbitrary cadence of time- your endurance and survival can be and is enough and another day can be your anniversary of change. You may not feel the inspiration or have the energy to set down a concrete beginning, middle, and end for this journey, but choose rather to invest in the ambiguous notion of a different possibility and one day come to find the idea permeated in your actions so that you will get to look back and say it happened while I lived, while I endured, while I survived. Maybe then you can pick the anniversary date of your New Year, in line with the beautiful, frustrating, amoebic nature of time.
Today, tomorrow, the next day are all just as good a day as any.
Every bilbo must leave the shire
I have plans. Plans for what I want to do with myself, my home, my work, my projects. I have so many plans. In honor of these plans, for it has been this way with me my whole life, I have a tattoo of a candle burning at both ends with the word lovely across. It’s an homage to my propensity to always be doing, even at my own detriment, and to my father who has long since used the Enda St. Vincent Millay poem First Fig as an illustration of his fatherly care and concern for my well being.
Edna St. Vincent Millay First Fig
My candle burns at both ends
It shall not last the night
But, ah, my foes and, oh, my friends-
It gives a lovely light
The work I’ve done in the strange abyss that was 2020, in all its brutality, has illuminated some of the darkest corners of my being. As a Shadow Work practitioner, this has been an equally brutal but very welcome part of this adventure. I’ve come up with the mantra “Every Bilbo must come to leave the Shire” and I say it to myself almost daily. I say it when I feel the tingle and prickle of those tiny seeds of shadow percolating upwards. I say these words to steady myself, my gaze, my feet and do what feels like comfort is magnetically repelled against. The resistance inside me is visceral. One-foot-in-front-of-the-other has led me to discover that I am not averse to failure nor success but rather to completion, fearing the tangibly bland, or having to live with an empirical display of mediocrity, or to one day look back and see a peak of achievement I’ll never surpass again. I have gravitated towards the intangible my whole life- my degree in theatre, my work in metaphysics, my ample and robust burlesque repertoire of acts that are always works in progress- even my award winning acts. I procrastinate not for perfectionism in execution, but rather perfectionism in inspiration. What if another idea comes along and is better? And because I leave this window open, invariably something better does come along and excuses my consistent lack of follow through.
In weighing the path and choices I want to take in these newest iterations of my vision for the future, I have dedicated and initiated into the path of commitment and stepping. Leave the Shire. I imagine the path will evolve, but I will see these ideas through to their end. That might seem easy, but let’s be honest with ourselves so much of doing is easily said and harder fought to be done. Just do it: that's a mountain and a molehill and worth more than the Nike swoosh.
In stepping, already new discoveries about myself have come to pass and with them even more seeds of shadow to be addressed. One left me yelling (just in volume, not in sentiment) at a friend because I couldn’t bring myself to say what I needed to say in normal conversation. Words kept me spinning in circles and babbling. Luckily, this friend has been a part of this journey, understood, and was joyful at the aggressive vulnerability this shadow work created. And as soon as the thing was uttered, new options in my path unfurled. I stepped out of the Shire.
If you’re not a Lord of the Rings fan and this Shire talk evades you, I have others; some just as nuanced in their dorkiness. I used to say “I must not fear. Fear is the mindkiller.” a la Frank Herbert’s Dune series. Also, “Fail big, Strawberry” which is a nod to my favorite poem, Strawberry by Paisley Rekdal. Whatever the motto or mantra, whether today or tomorrow, there is a great credit that must be given for simply entertaining the thought of change and the latent dissonance that can create, and the friction that causes change from there. It’s not seamless but perhaps organic. We may not see exactly the path, but I think that’s a good thing. We can't stand in our own way if we don’t know where we’re going. (I’ve worked with so many clients throughout the years who have had to come to realize their self awareness and visionary abilities are still limited by their experience and inability to suspend disbelief, and be open to the unimaginable.)
The Fool and the Bindlestiff
Think of the tarot card The Fool. What’s in the bindle on the end of the stick is up for debate, but regardless the Fool is not stepping out devoid of a personal history- they packed the bindlestiff, after all. You may not be prepared literally and in totality for the unknown of what the morrow may bring, but if you know the contents of your bindlestiff, and believe in them, then I bet you’ll be more willing to step out. The radical potential of the unknown can absolutely become manifest in a realized tomorrow.
This brings to mind Old Time’s Sake. In short, our sense of self IS Old Time’s Sake, is the bindlestiff carried by the fool, and we take the journey whether we choose it or not till a new tomorrow becomes a different sort of Old Time’s Sake, and so on and so forth.
Another seed of shadow that came and smacked me in the face was a memory. Much like chronic illness, there are some pieces of the shadow that are ever present and some that can lay dormant for many years until they flare up. This seed is the latter. In my ponderance of paths and plans, weighing the options of my bindlestiff, so to speak, I came across an old, old wound. Now that it is present, I can see how subversively this wound has undermined and sabotaged so much in my life. I want to tell you about this wound, how it came up, and what I realized because sometimes, those seeds of shadow can cause such a volatile response and with it comes unfruitful though valid emotional response. It’s important to ride those waves, to let the emotions speak fully instead of speaking for or over them. I find that there’s always more to be told than the first telling and the reactionary instinct can bar us from deeper understandings.
I was thinking about all the things I want to do with this platform and how I want to use it to shape and reshape my goals along my path. Excitedly considering my peers and friends and their abilities, my role in my community, and my history that brought me here I held some pretty specific notions deserving consideration. I am not linearly using my degree, a degree in performance. I am filled with business knowledge and acumen that may not be seeing its fullest utilization. How do I manifest these skills into my today. And then, the memory came bursting.
When I was a few years younger, I landed a gig that on paper was everything I deemed necessary to becoming established and worthy of being taken seriously. I was a grant writer for a major nonprofit. Banking my time in arts nonprofits and an education in development and community organizing, I was scheduled to pull in $50,000 annually in small grants. At my midyear review, I had already surpassed this annual target and was projected to hit 150% of my original target. But, then I was put on probation in my role. My supervisor, someone I barely saw, barely spoke to, had a meeting with me to discuss my behavioral issues. She said she was unsure if it was because I was young, southern, an artist, or all the above that led to a fundamental issue in my placement within the organization. She ripped me a new one and gave no support of substance. The behavioral issues she cited started on my first day on the job when a colleague, instead of introducing themselves strolled up to me, gave me an up-and-down once over, and proclaimed, “Man, you’re tall.” to which I said yes, I am. Apparently that was inappropriate. My behavior, my response. Not that of my colleague. They took my nonreaction as an affront- then there was a 6 month tally of similar accusations. I didn't ask enough questions; I asked too many questions. I wasn't ambitious enough; I was too ambitious. I didn't take my time seriously; I worked too much. And over the litany of accusations I found myself in a puddle of tears. That was the reaction my supervisor was hoping for. She said so. I left the job with no back up plan. I had horrible phone and email anxiety and second guessed every choice I made for years.
Laying in bed holding these memories, I found myself wanting to hurt the woman in charge of my supervision. What do I do. I asked myself, do I waste my magick on this wretched woman? I wanted her to suffer as she had made me suffer. I caught myself. Why, DeAnnah? What more is beneath this. I stood back from myself, and watched as the hurt, little me inside pointing to all the things this memory was standing in the way of and had prevented for years. Then my words started ringing. Do I waste my magick. Waste. That’s was the operative word and my reactive self had already innate acknowledged this.
Ok, so what then? What next? What do I do? I am a proactive person and my least favorite major arcana card is Temperance. It was a puzzle to my conscious mind. But, as I sat with it and held all truths, the weight fell away. I do not waste my magick. I don’t want to give this woman and the role she played in my development to delay my potential any further. She’s already miserable (hurt people hurt people). I do not want any more of an energetic connection to her, and what is there needs to be dissolved. Then, I heard “You gon’ see me eat.” This is a saying where I’m from akin to Beyonce’s lyric “best revenge is your paper”. I am the solution. My success is the solution. My stepping, bindlestiff in tow, is the solution.
I am not saying turn a blind eye or the other cheek. Sometimes, direct action is required. What I am saying is to allow the full discourse of your inner voices to show you the way the ego doesn’t always see.
As the past evolves into the present which ever evolves to the future, we are passed through change and transformation. Gestalt and dialectically connecting our past, present, and future in the great intersection of cause and effect, fate and freewill. Cue Auld Lang Syne- it is January 1st, after all and the perfect blessing for a good saining (lyrics and saining guide at the end).
I have taken some steps, small though they may be, to welcome the radical potential of a new Old Time’s Sake of tomorrow. To stumble upon my place, imbued with my passion, fueled by intention. I know what I packed in my bindlestiff: I am not one for doing collective predictions (I have amazing friends who are so gifted at that). I am not interested in doing daily tarot pulls (I also have amazing friends who are so gifted at this, but also it’s so tiring for me and I prefer the context of a querrent). I do love tarot philosophy and technique and analysis. I love breaking the contemporary rules of engagement. I love the Old Ways. I love that divination and omen readings were how our ancestors lived in harmony and communication with the land. I love crossing the veil, journeying, and shamanic tradition. I love magick and making it accessible. I love mysticism. These and more are in my what I packed in my bindle and shoved on the stick I carry.
I am excited to transition out of Edna St. Vincent Millay’s First Fig and into her Second Fig, to know by trial what grand new Old Time’s Sake awaits me. My father taught me with First Fig, now it is time to teach myself the second.
Edna St. Vincent Millay’s Second Fig
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:
Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand
Stay tuned for what lies ahead. I am excited to share in our respective splendor. The old gods rejoice in our glory. And as always:
Get Wyrd
Stay Wyrd
Believe in Magick
Saining and Auld Lang Syne
Auld Lang Syne, written by Scots poetic hero Robert Burns is a farewell and welcome all in one, a remembrance and bracing for the future, and beautiful sentiment suspended in the inbetween of time and space. This is perhaps why it is one of the most sung songs in the English speaking world and beyond. New Years, graduations, funerals, all times of suspension. For me, this son is Old Time’s Sake and the Fool’s bindlestiff.
Saining is a Scots word for the consecration- to cleanse, bless, and protect. Many of the Celtic and adjacent traditions sain and have their own spellings and pronunciations of the word. Much like sacred smoke or using a bessom to sweep out the old and welcome the new, saining is a practice of the same stuff. Below I will explain how I was taught to sain, different recipes on how to build and prepare your ritual, and the lyrics to Auld Lang Syne which I think are timely and appropriate.
Some folx burn sacred herb bundles when saining. I bless water, the stuff of life. Here’s what you’ll need:
A bowl
Water
Sacred herbs
Anointing oils
Alcohol bearing significance
An evergreen baugh
The evergreen baugh can be replaced by any materials on hand that can be spread or fling the water. I made a saining bundle of cuttings from my land- a mixture of cedar, juniper, and spruce. I have seen many things replace the baugh- a sacred piece of cloth, a spoon, and fingers of the practitioner.
Alcohol, especially hard liquor or grain alcohol of cultural or spiritual significance can be included for the ancestors. A few drops of scotch, whisky, or rum can make a big energetic difference. If you do not have alcohol on hand or are sober, that’s absolutely ok. Consider your accessibility to a natural body of water, rainwater, or melted snow. None of this is absolutely necessary and not including it will not compromise the ritual efficacy. Coffee is something many ancestral traditions utilize. Beer is also used in many traditions as hops has protection and cleansing correspondences, malt has sweetening (blessing) correspondences. No matter what you choose, only a few drops will do.
As for the herbs, go to your spice rack and pantry and substitute as need be. Intention is the name of the game anyway.
Upon assembling of the additives and water, combine all in a bowl. Starting at the front threshold of your home, wash your hands in the water and bless yourself by dripping the water on the crown of your head. Then, proceed through the home, singing and flinging water with all the energy and intention you can muster with the back threshold (or returning to the front if there is no back door) being the final destination. You can leave the bowl by your front door for a time if you wish, but when it comes time to dispose of the water, return it to earth.
Below are some suggestions for ingredients to include in your water:
Cleansing
Florida water
Cleansing oil
Cut and clear oil
Lemongrass
Lemon balm
Mint
Lavender
Nutmeg
Thyme
Kitchen Sage
Fennel
Hops
Blessing
Cedar
Frankincense
Myrrh
Calendula
Hyssop
Wheat
Blessing oil
Dragon’s Blood
Allspice
Orange
Rose
Hibiscus
Rowan
Heather
Oris Root
St. John
Protection
Pepper
Rosemary
Mace
Cinnamon
Clove
Salt
Protection oil
Star anise
Licorice
Sage
Birch
Do what feels good. If it feels good, it is good. Your own magickal correspondences deserve merit, and your intuitive connections to herbs, spices, oils, and whatever other magickal ephemera you’re drawn to are usually right- trust them.
Once assembled, and your hands and head are blessed, sing. Sing out, sing loud, sing soft, sing tender. Just sing with your heart. Below are the lyrics to Auld Lang Syne by Robert Burns
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And days of auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For days of auld lang syne
We twa hae run about the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine
But we've wander'd mony a weary fit
Sin days of auld lang syne
We twa hae paidl'd i' the burn
Frae morning sun till dine
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin days of auld lang syne
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For days of auld lang syne
And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp
And surely I'll be mine
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne
And there's a hand, my trusty fiere
And gie's a hand o' thine
And we'll tak a right gude-willy waught
For auld lang syne
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne
Cheers, Slainte, Skal