Pagan Blog Project: Release From The Past

What is this? I hear you cry- a Pagan Friday! Why yes, assorted people of the internet who have stumbled here by googling things such as ‘naked Druids’ and ‘dogs having sex’ (don’t ask, I neither know nor want to know) I have managed to write a Pagan Blog post on time!

Ignore my rambling… *cough* I’m just going to get on with it.

Shit happens. We all know that, sometimes it’s down to us doing something stupid, sometimes it’s the fault of someone else and sometimes it’s just life. Some of these things are trivial and easy to get over, other’s aren’t.

There are times when we find ourselves clinging onto the past, whether over a bereavement, unrequited love or failed relationship, and unable to move on. I think that it’s fine to have moments of grieving, of remembering the past, but when it starts to interfere with our future it’s something that needs to be dealt with.

There are lots of ways to move on from the past, from spells and meditation to the traditional psychological therapies, but how you move on isn’t the hard part.

The hard part is identifying when you have to let go of something- often the reason why these things remain on our minds is because they’re important to us and we have a strong emotional connection to them. This means that it’s hard to know when we have to let go.

We all have baggage that we shouldn’t be carrying around, and there’s no real way to tell when we need to let go of things- you just have to use your own judgement.

Blessings,

Wren x

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The Quest For Milk and Other Stories

As you may have noticed (or not) I’ve been a little absent lately- I spent last week writing essays and tidying- I have no idea what I was doing on Friday or why I didn’t put up a Pagan Blog Project post but I thought I’d better detail the events of my weekend as they might go some way to explaining why it’s taken me until Thursday to catch you all up 😉

On Saturday I went along with Cee and various others to a birthday party for one of my best friends, it was an overnight house party thing and we had a really hilarious time playing ‘I have never’ and chatting with people (especially as when we played ‘I have never’ I was sat slightly behind everyone else so they couldn’t see that I kept sipping from my glass… it’s always the quiet ones.)

It got to about 2am when everyone else started to curl up on the sofa and think about going to sleep, however me and Cee were planning to pull an all nighter as usual and she decided that in order to do this she needed coffee, my other friend Jay agreed on this point and so the two of them started rooting around the kitchen only to discover that we were sadly devoid of milk…

After lamenting about the fact that the ASDA down the road had cruelly lied in its claims to be open 24 hours per day (seriously people, don’t call it a 24 hour shop if it’s only open 24 hours per day five days a week… it’s just frustrating and false marketing) we decided to go down and check the ASDA garage just in case. Myself, Jay and Cee all walked down there, discovered it wasn’t open and then decided to go up onto the roof (the upper car park- we didn’t scale a building in heels and short skirts) where Jay took a picture of Cee looking terrified and me shamelessly vogue-ing next to her.

We then wandered back (away from the chavs) to my friend’s house where we bumped into another friend who was taking some time out- we asked if he wanted to come on a milk quest with us, he did and so we started walking down to some public gardens (don’t ask what this had to do with milk, I really don’t know!) which turned out to be private… we took a few steps inside when all the floodlights turned off of their own accord plunging us into darkness. At this point Cee and my friend fled, leaving me and Jay to walk on until we reached a very private looking house and my visions of vicious dogs leaping from the shrubbery to attack us got the better of us and we turned around and fled.

We ended up sitting on a wall until a very drunk man stumbled past, Jay asked him if he knew where we could buy milk. He stared at us before spinning around in a circle, asking if we’d seen his girlfriend and then stumbling back the way he came. At this point we had a serious conference, my friend went back to the house and we all decided that the only place that would have non drunk, normal people awake at this time of night would be the hospital.

So after much dithering we three ladies in short skirts and heels (well, I was dressed 40s, but you get the picture) set off in the direction of the hospital. We had to stop after about five minutes to get our bearings, this ended up with Cee winning the award for the best one liner of the evening with ‘guys, can we move off the street corner, it’s not sending out the right message…’

It was at this point that Jay realised her friend lived in the area and sent him a text asking if he was awake as we started to weave through some seriously dodgy alleyways to the hospital.

At this point it was around 3am and amazingly Jay got a text back- we ended up stood on yet another street corner as she phoned him and tried to make him believe that we were not totally mental for wanting milk at 3am and that he should let us into his house.

After a while he finally agreed and gave us his address… at which point Jay started to laugh. We turned around to see him stood, totally starkers in the window of the building opposite where we were stood! We all waved (it was 3am, two thirds of us were still tipsy and the other third is Pagan, there was no awkwardness) he disappeared for a moment and then reappeared holding aloft a carton of milk. We all cheered and waved hysterically before crossing the road and making our way into his building and up to his flat.

We graciously received the milk and headed back the house to coffee and warmth. We sat chatting until morning when ASDA opened, we then headed down to get breakfast and a present for our naked milkman. We got him a card and a carton of milk which Jay tried to shove through his letterbox before finally giving up and leaving it on his doorstep. We then went back to the house to make a cooked breakfast for everyone and tidy everything up from the party.

All in all it was a pretty crazy and hilarious night- I didn’t sleep at all until Sunday night, I then had volunteering the next day. I was honestly so spaced, I kept fucking up the till and generally staring out the window for my shift, I must have looked bonkers.

Tuesday was spent shopping and I don’t know what else… my mind is drawing a blank… then yesterday I went over to Jay’s to help her paint her bedroom. If I fuck up the acting I reckon I have a shining career as a painter and decorator ahead of me.

I spent yesterday evening and the whole of today (bar when I went down to the ATM to top up my phone and helped my Da move a cabinet) watching the Paralympics which are completely awesome, I watched the entire opening ceremony last night, even through the boring bits where all the hundreds of countries walk into the stadium. I’m just annoyed that it’s going to be on when I have to go back to school, so I’m trying to make the most of it now 🙂

Hope you’re all doing well, ’til next time (which will hopefully be a Pagan Blog Project post tomorrow.)

Wren x

Pagan Blog Project: The Questing Beast

As a sterling example of a writer I shall not be challenged by the letter Q- oh no my friends, I’m barely breaking a sweat…

This weeks entry is not a random wibbling rant but instead a little snippet of mythology for you… little being the crucial word.

The Questing Beast is a figure from Arthurian mythology, it is said to be the child of a mortal woman and the Devil and is interesting in the fact that it shows the overlap between Arthurian/Celtic mythology and the New Religion.

It is said to have the head of a snake, body of a leopard, hindquarters of a lion and feet of a hart, its belly full of baying hounds.

It was chased by Pellinore and then Palamedes (and appeared on the BBCs Merlin recently… something to youtube if you’re bored.)

Yeah… I said it was going to be little!

Blessings,

Wren x

Pagan Blog Project: Proof

You may or may not have noticed that I am currently lagging behind with the Pagan Blog Project- at the moment it’s 12:43am on a Sunday morning and I’m not going to be going to sleep until I do some entries and make sure I get back on track!

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Proof is an elusive thing- as Pagans we’re often seen as people who reject science and live in some ridiculous fantasy land. I mean, we cast spells, work with crystals and believe in fairies- not things that are seen as ‘normal’ in any respect.

Talking to atheists and the like one word seems to stand out, and that word is ‘proof’ they all seem to want some kind of concrete evidence before placing their faith in something. They would want to see a real, live fairy placed on the table in front of them before making a comment on whether the Fay exist or not.

Now I’m not going to say that this is a bad thing, because it’s not. I’m an eternal pragmatist (something that I only realised after half a year of philosophy lessons) I’m very practical and realistic about pretty much everything.

The only comment I really want to make about all of this is that the word ‘proof’ is used like it’s objective, when in fact I consider it to be incredibly subjective. When people say they want ‘proof’ of something before they make a commitment it always strikes me as a bit odd- I mean, we all had proof of the Gods or the Fay before we decided to commit to a belief in them, but our ideas of proof all differ.

And to some people proof isn’t needed at all- I know that I find it very weird when people ask me if I believe in the Gods, it’s like someone asking me if I believe in the sky or the air that we’re breathing. When they go further and ask how I would prove their existence it honestly makes my head hurt slightly. The Gods are everything and everywhere, they are a part of the fabric of the world- proof is unimportant.

Going back to the example of placing the real, live fairy on the table as a form of proof we can see how subjective it can be once again. For some people just the physical presence of the fairy would be enough to make them believe in the Fay, but for others it would take it being tested and dissected and investigated for them to stand up and announce that they believe. Proof is different to everyone- it’s subjective, it would be nice if people stopped throwing it about like the final word.

Blessed be,

Wren x

Results Day

I could have written a wittier title but I feel that there’s no point in being coy.

Needless to say I didn’t sleep very much the other night- I think I got about three hours in total which was rather horrible. I got up out of bed at about three in the morning, opened my window,  lit a candle and got my tarot cards out.

Had a fairly telling spread- wheel of fortune, the chariot and then the knight of wands reversed. I’m hoping for some good luck at the moment.

When I finally managed to get to bed I had some very vivid dreams- I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this here before but after my big meditation a few weeks ago I’ve been having the most graphic dreams. They’re starting to wane a little now, but it’s been amazing to dream again after years and years of nightmares and fearing sleep.

Anyway, I grumpily got out of bed, showered, dressed and marched through the nasty muggy weather to school only to find that they’d locked the back gate which meant I had to walk all the bloody way around the school (I wanted to cry, I was actually on the verge of tears for quite a while) I was daring the sky to break and have the massive thunderstorm it seemed to want. So far it’s been taunting me by not complying.

I got in and got hold of my envelope. I milled around a little and chatted to people before being told by my best friend Cee that everyone had done badly in philosophy- she’d gotten a D- so I went and spoke to Sir who told me that he needed me to sign something, note that at this point I still hadn’t opened my envelope and found out my grades, so I played ‘guess my results’ with him and came out a little above my expectations- I guessed an E overall and he said it was a D- small victories my friends, small victories!

From chatting to people it was made abundantly clear that we were all screwed- one of my friends has properly, completely failed everything- most people got Cs and Ds and so on- which was terrifying for me as I feared my obsessive, neurotic revision was all for naught (seriously, I didn’t have an Easter holiday, I spent two weeks watching Film4 and doing revision- I didn’t even have time to do my bloody homework.)

Me and some friends got dragged outside by a photographer for the local paper to have our pictures taken- so I shall be in the local rag next Thursday! If you’re lucky and I’m feeling relaxed about the whole anonymity thing I may post you a glorious photo of my exhausted and slightly nauseous mug. An interesting note for the photo is that the other three people in it are holding their results whereas I’m holding a resit form, ahahah.

I eventually sidled off home and decided that I would put the results to one side and spend the afternoon being nice to myself. I made a glorious banana sandwich and sat down to read some fanfiction. Oh yeah, that’s my idea of a relaxing afternoon 😉

(I should also add that I followed up the sandwich with a slice of chocolate cake… I figured I might as well push the boat out.)

The afternoon wore on quite pleasantly, the little brown envelope tucked under my sewing machine with reaching distance but well out of my mind.

Eventually my Ma came home, she ragged me out slightly for not opening my envelope which honestly pissed me off, with the amount of people I’d seen get bad results it was realistic to expect that mine would be less than brilliant and quite frankly I wanted to have a nice day before the inevitable bad results were revealed and I was left wondering what the hell I was going to do with the rest of my life.

My Dad and brother went of leafleting (did I mention that I ended up sat folding leaflets the night before results as a kind of desperate therapy?) and I kind of snapped. I went up to my room, I felt so sick and I ended up standing by the window sobbing for about ten seconds (I cry all the time- not in front of people, but I honestly tear up so much! Apparently it makes me a good actress though so *shrugs* swings and roundabouts.)  Before I dried my eyes, gave myself a little talking to and gently, inch by inch, pulled my results from the envelope.

I had the usual ‘what-the-crap-do-all-these-numbers-mean-and-where-are-my-results’ panic before staring in a kind of stupor at the massive letters printed on the page.

I already knew I had a D in philosophy so it was just history and psychology in the balance- including the philosophy results I got:

that’s ADA- forgive the crappy focus, I took the photo by my bedside light 😛

Oh yeah, at this point I kind of forgot to breathe and ended up hyperventilating in a very unattractive manner as I stumbled down the stairs to show my Ma. I’m still in shock honestly; I just didn’t expect it from what had happened to everyone else.

My GCSEs went so badly with my mentalness, it was honestly a really horrible time for me and getting the results for those was awful, I had to look at the extent of what my mental illness had done to me. I tried so bloody hard for these and it was a huge relief to see that all that hard work had paid off.

Right now I feel like I can relax for the first time in ages- so I’m going to pop off and get some sleep (I’m writing this on Thursday evening) I’ve got a busy few days coming up and I’m going to need it.

’til next time,

Wren x

Olympic Thoughts

As you people may or may not have noticed I’ve not really been around for a while… a while being around a week. It’s honestly because my mood just dipped, everything was getting on top of me and I didn’t know what to do, so I kind of went to ground for a little while.

Things are kind of fixed at the moment- note the use of ‘kind of’ in that sentence, haha- I’m not holding my breath.

This post is just a little reflection on the past week and the Olympics and all that random shit. I know, I’m so bloody eloquent. And I promise you’ll see this weeks Pagan Blog Project post from me ASAP.

I feel that Britain has been dribbling along recently, having a bit of a rough old time and feeling a little sorry for ourselves. We’ve been hanging our heads in shame at the incompetence of our leaders and generally feeling a little glum.

The Olympics have picked us up as a group of people- screw the politicians- they’ve shown that we as ordinary people have the strength and determination to win, and win big. (Ignoring the fact that we’ve been beaten by America and China medal wise.)

I hate sport, I was a massive Scrooge about the Olympics and for the most part I still am… but I don’t think anyone can feel bad about the way we’ve done and how it’s all brought us together as a nation. For the first time in my life I feel rather patriotic, and I’ll admit to being a little sad when it all finishes tonight.

Whilst I still think that the money spent could have been put to much better use (I touched on the subject here) and that my Ma should have been allowed to plan both the opening and closing ceremonies (she told me that the opening ceremony would consist of men in brightly coloured gimp suits and capes dancing to ‘Tiger Feet’ in a Teletubby-esque landscape) overall I have slightly, mildly, enjoyed the Olympics.

The next time they come I’ll be 21- which is sodding terrifying! I try not and look to the future as it makes me feel ill and stressed but I can’t help wondering where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing… okay, that’s enough wondering from me.

Before I go I just have to pay tribute to the true winners of the Olympics- my stunning, beautiful, slightly damp home county:

YORKSHIRE!

You may mock us for our brass bands, incomprehensible accents and utterly shit weather but you can never doubt our sporting prowess! Mwahaha!

That’s all for now my friends…

Wren x

Half A Century Without Marilyn

“If you can’t handle me at my worst then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.”

I have an appreciation for Marilyn Monroe as a quote lover, a vintage girl and as someone who is mentally ill. For me she’ll always be an inherently tragic figure, an example of a woman pushed so far into herself that she couldn’t find her way back.

People may dispute this, but hey- it’s only my opinion.

As a vintage enthusiast I don’t know Marilyn particularly well- I’m more well acquainted with the likes of Katharine Hepburn and Anne Shelton (40s girl all the way…) but I do appreciate her for making trousers sexy (even though I still hate them) and for showing us that dressing to suit your shape is far more attractive than dressing to suit fashion.

As a mentally ill actress I have a possibly unhealthy fascination with the troubled stars of yesteryear- and something about Marilyn’s isolation, her fluctuating identity and obsession with therapy strikes a chord with me.

I see her a little like the Titanic, a beautiful disaster waiting to happen- it seems to me that she spent a great deal of time unhappy, and that’s what makes me sad most of all, the idea that anyone has to spend so much time being unhappy is just horrible. As someone with depression this is what really strikes me- life’s not worth living if you can’t be happy- so maybe her death was a relief in that sense.

No-one really knows whether what happened was an accident or not, and to be honest at this stage in time I don’t think it matters.

Marilyn Monroe is one of the most famous people in the world ever– she went from nothing to everything in a relatively short space of time and has inspired countless people to do the same. She embodied glamour and sexuality and was an example of how an attractive woman can take control over the men around her- intentionally or not.

Of course she was and is also the leading example of the pitfalls that can come with fame and beauty.

Half a century on have we learnt any lessons from Marilyn Monroe? Well the short answer seems to be no, celebrity culture has boomed and so have rates of depression- as a society we’re becoming more and more plagued by mental ill-health.

However I do think we can take something from Marilyn- and that’s her body confidence. Rates of eating disorders are only growing, especially amongst teenage girls, and I think that by familiarising ourselves with a wide variety of body shapes we can take a step towards tackling this.

But all I really wanted to say tonight was: cheers Marilyn for being amazing and sparky and glamorous, I hope that wherever you are you’re happy.

“A wise girl kisses but doesn’t love, listens but doesn’t believe and leaves before she is left.”