Walking The Path

Hale and Greetings, folks!

Been a good while since I signed in on this page; I only recently posted on My Song, vowing to get back to the writing after near seven years of hiatus. Honestly the writing continued, though different in different formats, as living the Pagan life replaced writing about it. Walking the talk, we call it; Paganism infuses every aspect of our being. Walk in to the house-- or pull in the driveway, and if you don't Know we're Pagan, you soon will, even if  you're as observant as the average muggle.

  Many who read me those years ago, blogging from Houston, Tx., know it was THIS very blog that brought me to the peach Tree state of Georgia on Yule 2009. Continuing to write from Casa de Crazie, as well as garden, I planted seed in more than just the vegetable beds, and January 2011 saw little Biskit born to Kyddryn and I. (OK, granted, K did all the majority of the work, my sowing taking all of a few minutes ;D)

 The prior Summer Solstice festival Wisteria also saw polyamory become more than just the theoretical blog-words for me, K and a lady we'll call Momma Ra. Those seas have been everything an ocean of love and life can throw at one from the beginning, occasionally calm but mostly ...well, suffice it to say that the Ocean is a good analogy. (Swan here, remember?) The rewards have so far far outweighed the negatives; it is those I'd like to focus on this morning.

 Saoirse... the Irish Gaelic word for 'Freedom'. A true force of nature, Biskit takes after both Flower and Cygnus equally while being 100% her own entity. Recently she and I have taken to hiking the woods aback Casa, un-schooling every inch of the way.

 First thing Biskit needed was a good walking stick, like Papa. Leaf-fall covers holes left by root of trees returned to the Mother, and the stick from one of those very trees helps keep ankles intact, balance up and down graded terrain, clear thorny bush and cobweb from route and eyes-- the number of practical uses is limited only by what one does with them.

 Second... well heck, there's path-finding. These woods are like Frost's-- "lovely, dark and deep". It'll be many a year before she's allowed to venture in alone past sight of the house (in fact, the current law is NO ENTERING THE WOODS, PERIOD, WITHOUT AN ADULT); however lore of the Water Tree, one of the first recognizable prominent markers, leads way to-- you guessed it! Getting wet entered in to the number of things to do as a waterfall was destination before way led on to way...

 The list-- and pictures-- can, does and will go on as long as the trips do. So far two under her belt, with a third coming in the next few days knowing her persistent penchant to live up to her name and Nature. In the interim, I have duties outside the house and grounds that require my presence, so I'll say here hail and farewell, and merry may we soon meet again!  Thanks for stopping by. Not so long an hiatus 'till the next post, I ken...

Slainte, folks!          

Cygnus           (aka SillySwan)

On Life and Liberty

It has been said you have but one life to give.
Who do you give yours to-- Gods, Country, Family?

My gods, what a question.

My Gods...

My Goddess, more like I've come to discover in my near 47-year jaunt. My spiritual avocation is gardening, being a Green Man; my physical application is best invested tending Gaia.

My Country

Homo sapiens sapiens tend to be territorial, atop the evolutionary tree though we may be. National Pride and the boundaries that ensue-- lines on a map defining racial, cultural, spiritual and myriad other values-- define countries-- family  inside yet separate from Family [gaia]. Where else would I practice my spiritual avocation but among those of like mind?

My Family

Further the microcosm  down to the Prime Objective. My family-- chosen mate[s]* and our progeny. The atom inside the Galaxy...
I grow my gardens to feed my family-- Bird, Biskit, Flower and me. I do this in my micro-country-- our yard.
Ours.
Flower and I broke the grass at Casa des Crazies together, by hand, transferring to yard a muddy patch along the drive and simultaneously created a  raised garden bed. We added 3 more beds (one each year) by composting-- leaves, grass clippings, and any unconsumed foods excluding meat and dairy. Flower planted a strawberry patch under the mailbox trellis, and year by year she is our Mother-plant, producing fruits and shoots alike in abundance.
Flower and I procreated on this ground-- in our home on our yard in this country on this planet gaia.

I have but one life to give [this Round-- but that's another post altogether]. As long as I'm free I will exercise the Liberty to give it to family.

To some who read this it will seem babble.
To me who has earned, given and suffered loss of FREEDOM, it simply and steadfastly means I will tend my Flowers, make my Biskits and feed my Birds while I have the Liberty.

Slainte, folks.

Cygnus

*mate[s] see POLYAMORY

On cannabalism

I don't like chicken as a meal per se. They're like cousins, on the low redneck branch. Something about feeding a Swan bird seems foul... Slainte, folks. Nice to be back...

Leaf-Snow

I went down the ravine back yard way, down off the property line and into some of that very rare space in ... well, anywhere in the world, really; that rare space of unspoiled wood, of dead trees left standing where they stand and alone to return the borrowed energy and physiology to the elements. I went down past the Bent Tree, remnant of a by-gone era where travelers based routes on accessibility to water; Bent Trunk pointed the way.

It was down by the water I was headed, drum in one hand, to Sit. There's a small rock shelf-cum-waterfall provides a great meditative Flow.

I sat for a second. Or hour. You know; time as a clock concept mattered that much.

I sat. Leaves fell. Peripheral vision as well as focus points were alive with Seeing-The-Wind-- leaf-snow. All these little Leaf-souls, drifting, this time of year, back to play blanket for the roots of their bearer-tree.

I caught the rhythm of the Fall, and the Falls and falling, and the drum began to beat. One small leaf, some minutes later, demanded my attention, and I watched her drift from near the canopy-top down, down, downey-down, to rest, stand-outish, on a mossy rock. Outside of their life or consciousness, I sit like a god who sees their cycle for the beautiful symphony life and death must certainly be.

They MUST, else we would not have chosen incarnation.

They simply MUST, I say...

Slainte folks.

Cygnus

All Wet Behind Ear!

Slainte, folks. Been a while.

I've been wanting to get back on blogger for a few months now, but the writing I refuse to force. Some will come, as I have this polyamorous thing taking a lot of thought-time, and many of those likely will find their way to text. But not just yet, the writing I mean.

SINGING IN THE SHOWER

Not coincidentally, I'm sure (as I don't so much believe in it by definition), I had the following tune bridging my unconscious-conscious mind during Morning Shower, and a l'il led lit above my gray matter...

I've got some pondering to do before Green Rose [my Ohio girl] wakes up. And will continue to work out this new possibilities' dynamics with Kyddryn.

WOW, what a circle. . .

Slainte, folks.

Cygnus

I Drummed Until My Hands Swelled So Bad My Fingers Cracked

And That Was On Towards The Second-To-Last Night

Some of the best drumming in my [this] life, this Summer Solstice.

I left the bodhran by the fire too long one night; the crossbar split and the riveted head detached, so I invested my drumming time with a rim drum-- an ashiko. It was quite a different experience...

Much less mobile-- I had no strap, no carry. So I sat more than is my norm whilst drumming. I did oft on a log, oft on knees mounting the drum.

There were "firecracker" drummers all around me-- women and men that I will be sycophant to my entire remainder on Momma Earth-- and it was an absolute BEAUTY to find a pulse amongst these Kin.

Pulse I found, and kept. And found I could variate, could flirt with, and still keep pulse for Drummers like Raven, and Chris [LOVED bein' your pulse-podna, man!], and Steve, and Kasey, and Bongo Bob, and...

And MYSELF.

Oh, YEAH-- l'il ol humble ME.

When I selected band as an elective class in Jr. High, the only seat available was trumpet. I took it, and pinched my lips the entire time I played. I wanted percussion; I wanted to DRUM.

I DID this week. I found myself.

One point, for some immeasurable stretch, I was THERE. I heard EVERY DRUM. I beat my hands in time, and as I heard every other drum there I stopped TRYING to fit in; I stopped THINKING about what I was "trying" to do, and found my-- no, no; found THE pulse. I WAS the pulse... I wasn't trying-- I was THERE contributing.

That's powerful shit, my people. So powerful, I tell ya, I saw a Bright Being bridging another Dimension. But that's another story...

I've drummed for better than 70 hours over the last week and a half. My hands need rest...

Slainte, folks...

Cygnus

Chief GreenBud

Some GREAT Points!

One of my Facebook acquaintances shared this link; it sent me on a cool pot-parody musical journey!!!



Even with the arrival of Sprout-- new daughter here at Casa de Crazies-- I'm gearing towards much more blogging, both HERE, where I'll be delving into the polyamorous relationship which came to be for me, Flower, and Lady Green (and her J...), AND at My Song, where the 'new family' stuff will go down. Oh, I'll post a picture or three of daddy's l'il pagan princess from time to time on PagansWan, especially when I get some of Saoirse in Godmother Ra's arms!-- but I'm also wont to spend more time on the 'alternatives' aspects of this blog-- the Pagan, the Poly... the Parenting! lol! Guess they really never will be stand-alones! [Not if I'm doing my job, anyways! ha!]

ANYHOW...More soon, folks! Hope you enjoy the video, and enjoy following the leads therein!!!

Slainte!

Cygnus

p.s. Tried to link to Flower aka Shade and Sweetwater, and My Song, but having issues /w blogger/explorer communicati...