Friday night I had a dream, involving my mother. Given the recent flavor of my dreams involving her lately, this was not a pleasant dream, but certainly cathartic (at least for dream-me.) Like the other dreams of late, this one revolved about the same theme: throwing the truth in my mother's face, forcing her to deal with it, and be damned any emotions or opinions she may have on the matter.
Going back the last nine months or so, and this truth has involved the boys not going to Sunday School, reminding her that I won't hold lip service to a religion I don't believe in (just because of that whole damnation thing, like some people do *cough-cough* *hint-hint,*) and that she's not allowed to treat my younger sister the way she treated me when I was my sister's age. Last night, though, was about my husband's and my decision to homeschool Atticus.
Atticus, only 6 years old, has asked to learn the Tarot. It was bound to happen; my husband is an avid Tarot reader and I've been drawn to my old deck again, doing at least one reading a day now. He likes to sit close, hovering over the cards.
"Mom, what does that one mean? Mom, I like the pretty clouds. Mom, that one looks weird." As to be expected, he finally asked, "Mom, can I try?"
The Harvest season is in full swing, the Equinox just around the corner, which makes now the last chance for harvesting herbs before the Winter cold sets in. In assuring the highest quality herbs for your magickal and medicinal uses, there are a few things to keep in mind when it comes to harvesting.
This past Dark Moon, a week ago today, was planned to pass with little recognition. Originally, I had planned to cleanse the house. It is quite apparent, at this point, that there is at least one something here and I refuse to let it stay or reason with it in anyway: this is my house and I will not let it remain. But, I digress: that is a story for another entry.
This Dark Moon came, and like many a recent night, I was overwhelmed, multitasking to the point that I had no idea, really, what I was doing anymore. It was time for bed, the kids were... vying for the attention of a stressed out mom. The computer screen leered at me, angrily: a reminder of the immense amount of schoolwork I needed to do, a reminder that though one class would be ending the following Sunday, another would be starting on Monday.
Throwing the Bones
You have successfully subscribed.