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posted by The Pendragon at 12/10/2004 07:45:00 PM

The Good Die

                  When some men die, the news is interrupted, the flags fly at half mast, and there are parades of dignitaries making speeches. A man died today- a man you never heard of, who's name will not even be in bold print when it is listed in the obituaries. He died quietly and of his own choice (rather then be forever joined to a machine) with the four people he loved most around him. I wonder which of these men has had the richer life.
                  One was a man who's world was made of material goods, who knew very powerful and important people but had very few real friends, and who caused flags to lowered but conversations to turn to how to best take advantage his death.
                  The other a man who worked hard for the very little he had but loved his work. He never said "No" to anyone and did what he could to help those who came to him in need. He did not know a lot of people but those he did know he cherished. He was a simple man who lived a simple life and relished in its simpler pleasures. With his passing, a huge void has been left in the hearts of his friends and family.
                  So who was richer, the man who devoted himself to a life of numbers and possessions, or the man who devoted himself to life? Is it the man who's name will be recorded in history books and carved in granite, or the man who's name is etched in the hearts of loved ones and who's memory- the true memory of who he was- will live on for as long as those who knew him are alive?
                  When you die, your Jaguar won't be parked in the hospital room and those winters in Barbados will be nothing but a faded memory if you remember them at all. The only things that will matter to you will be the warm and caring hand holding yours and the sounds of weeping as the overture to your departure.

posted by The Pendragon at 8/26/2003 07:13:00 PM

A Job Well Done

Perhaps you recall the old cartoons where the Coyote is chasing the Roadrunner and is so intent on the chase and moving so fast that, when he runs off the end of a cliff, he keeps traveling for several feet. Seeing what has happened, he hangs in midair for moment as the realization hits him, then he plummets toward the canyon floor.
Parenting is a 24 hour a day, 7 days a week job most of which is unappreciated and unnoticed. Taking that tiny, squalling, purple thing that appears in the hospital one day and growing and molding it into a fully functional and happy adult human being takes a tremendous amount of energy- physical, emotional, and mental. It is trying, draining, and thankless. For eighteen years and then some every thought, every decision, every act centers around the child as they must be the first and foremost consideration. When you work, you work to care for them. When you play, you play to spend time with them. As they get older they require less physical effort but vastly more mental effort. Things go into overdrive as college grows near as you help them choose a school, fill out applications, prepare for standardized tests, and figure out how the Hell you are going to pay for it all.
Then, all of a sudden, it's over. In the space of a day, an hour, just a fleeting minute you give them that final bit of parental wisdom and hug and they are gone into a life that does not involve you on a daily basis. No more picking up their socks from the living room floor, no more throbbing music shaking the fillings out of your teeth, no more constant jangling of the phone and a house filled with assorted teenagers. You don't have to feed them, wash their clothes, or deal with the fallout of whatever is impacting their emotions at a given moment. They don't need you any longer. You have run off the cliff.
When the child starts college, there are welcome weeks and orientations and all sorts of programs and events designed to help them ease into their new lives. Who is there to orient the parent and to ease them into their new life? As come to the realization that we have run out of cliff, who is there to tell us where to hit and what to do when we get there?
I realize this does not seem to be a problem. Suddenly being able to live one's life for one's self instead of someone else would appear to be the ultimate freedom. I can go , do, be whatever I want with no one to tell me different. But I am a dad. It's what I do, what I have done for the past 18 years half of those with no one else's help. It is my craft, my work, my avocation- and, now, the job is done. My tools are useless, the things I have learned are meaningless, and all of the experience I have gained is not good for anything.
My role has changed. I am like Vito Corleone handing the reigns of the family over to Michael and moving into the background as consigliore. No longer in command, all he could do was give the benefit of his experience and hope his son made the right decisions. I am now in that same role. I no longer command I simply offer my wisdom and hope for the best.
So, as my son starts his new life I move on to mine. For now, the future is a blank slate. I will write upon it what I will. The first thing I am going to do is get a puppy. Not exactly a replacement for a boy, but something I can care for.
If you are a parent, allow me to give you a word of advice. I don't care of your kid is a senior in high school or was born yesterday- savor every moment and do the best you can for him or her because, before you know it and long before you are ready for it, he or she will be out the door and all you will have to cushion the impact on the canyon floor is the satisfaction of a job well done.



posted by The Pendragon at 8/23/2003 01:05:00 PM

I Read A Book

I know it has become almost a knee-jerk reaction among more experienced Pagans to discount, if not outright laugh at, those whose sole knowledge comes from reading books. Some wag has even coined the term "IRAB" (I Read A Book) to describe these individuals who think that browsing through Cunningham or perusing Buckland is all one needs to become the end all and be all of Paganism.
The thought is that merely reading a book is not enough. It assumes real time interaction with a human teacher and a few years of experience are the only way to gain real knowledge. The idea is that there is no power in books.
Those who hold this point of view might do well to reconsider. The Christian church rode roughshod over and ended up running most of the Western world empowered by nothing more than what was written in a book. Thousands of Americans died on 09/11/2001 because of what someone had written in a book. You would be hard pressed to find any religion from Mithraism to Scientology that is not based on what is written in a "mere book." Even the neo Pagan movement came as a result of books.
What set me off on these literary musings is what I have been reading about a recent and very powerful book. Part of a set of books, really, this book has been at the top of the news, the center of riots, the source of endless controversy, and, as some would describe, the source of great evil that is subverting our children and guaranteeing them a life of pain and suffering. I am, of course, talking about the latest book in the Harry Potter series.
It started months before the book even came out. The news media began a countdown of the book's release reminiscent of countdowns to other great events such as the man landing on the moon or Y2K. Every night, the newscasters advised us with breathless anticipation of how much closer we were to the Great Day that we would find out what Harry's latest adventure would be. Rumors about the books were flying around like poop at a baboon convention. Someone whispered that an important character was going to die. Someone else heard that Rowling was reneging and would not write anymore books. We heard about how many books were being printed, how many would sell, and how much money would be made by all concerned.
One hapless reviewer dared to publish his comments about the book before it was officially released and is being thoroughly bludgeoned with the club of litigation. That one unfortunate incident aside, the wonderful day finally arrived. As the hour grew near, we got constant news feed about how many people were lining up with sleeping bags and camp stoves to get the great "honor" of spending their money one the book the instant it became available. We saw video of long lines on the sidewalk outside bookstores looking like Depression Era soup lines and heard interviews with Potter enthusiasts about how the book was going to change their lives.
Finally, the Cosmos aligned in the proper position and it was time for the book to be sold. Those waiting in line fell upon copies like starving men falling upon a turkey dinner. Some bought both the English and American versions, apparently unaware that the only differences were the size of the type and the margins. Of course, the media was there to show as the thrilled children grasping copies in their arms and falling to the bookstore floor unable to put off reading even as long as it took to get to the parking lot.
We also saw the ugly side when near riots broke out as stores ran out of their strictly rationed copies. It was then the criminal element moved in and pirates made free copies widely available on the Internet.
Of course, a certain portion of our society, the church, was not shocked at all to see this happen. To their way of thinking, this did not even scratch the surface of the insidious evil lurking between the covers of that dastardly tome.
This book and the ones before it have been accused of teaching children Satanism and Witchcraft (like these are bad things), diluting the work ethic by giving the impression that things can be obtained without working for them, and even promoting promiscuity by depicting young men and women fraternizing without proper supervision. I should expect to hear any day now about the hidden Satanic messages one can decipher by reading the books backward.
Hellfire and brimstone has been called down upon Harry and the gang as these thought Nazis demand the books be banned from libraries and removed from schools. After all, they are to blame for the "alarming" increase in the number of people turning to Paganism and the declining numbers of people in pews (and dollars in church coffers).
The furor is nowhere near dying down as, just today, I read an article making a very feasible case for Harry's story being an allegory for what a young gay man goes through- right down to the point his family forces him to live in a closet. He is, the piece claimed, the latest gay icon.
I am shocked that those who protected us from the hidden filth of the Teletubbies did not pick up on such a blatant sign of Satan in action but, now that it has been brought to their attention, I am sure there will be a renewed cry for the purging of this evil in print from the hearts, minds, and bookshelves of humanity.
For the gods' sake, this is a kids' story! It is a fanciful tale, a flight of the imagination, a daydream in print. It is not even a new story. It is "Oliver Twist" with a magic wand. It's Dorothy and Toto in England. It is "The Hardy Boys and the Mystery of the Really Spooky Castle." It is just a book that has shaken our society as thoroughly as the other events it has shared the front page with these past few months.
Just a book; something of no power or consequence? Tell it to Saul of Tarsis who wrote a book which became the foundation of a repressive moral code which, after more than 2000 years, left societal scars we are still endeavoring to heal. Tell it to the men who framed the Constitution of the United States and set the course for the greatest nation in the history of mankind. Tell it to Charles Darwin who took pen in hand and transcribed the creation of the Universe.
Tell it to the once homeless J K Rowling.

posted by The Pendragon at 8/17/2003 07:57:00 PM

Dry

I don't know how long it has been since we have seen real rain. Oh we had a couple of days where the sky clouded over, thunder rumbled, and a few drops of rain made forays to the Earth, but the storms never came. It was as if any rain that did fall evaporated in mid air. I drive through an area of road construction on my daily commute and I note that the ground is so hard and packed that they have to bring in huge water trucks to soak it so the bulldozers can move the earth. The grass is dead and brown, the crops are look more like they should in late September than in early August, and the brush and trees are so dry it they seem as if the whole world could burst into flame at any moment under the heat of the summer sun.

The rain gods have forsaken us. They have taken their liquid treasure and hoarded it in the stock rooms of the sky rather than sharing it with we mortals who depend so completely on it. Not just we mortal people but the mortal animals as well. I have seen cattle set to graze in the harsh, beige fields of Johnson grass because the pastures are depleted. Rabbits have migrated to the populated areas where the lawns and flower beds are watered. They scatter like grasshoppers when one walks outside. In the early, lush, green days of summer activity at the feeder dropped off drastically from what it was during the winter. Now we are back to the feathered battle royals and I am having to refill it almost every other day- which tells me the pickings are slim even if one eats. . . like a bird.

I was driving in rural Kansas last week and there, amidst the parched corn fields and the plumes of dust hanging in the air from the gravel roads, was a church with a sign in front which read "Our prayer list: rain, troops, mercy, and you." I found that to be quite an eloquent statement about the current condition of the world.


posted by The Pendragon at 8/09/2003 12:24:00 PM

Gaea

Many of you who are reading this are or will be attending the Heartland Pagan Festival. The festival is big and there are a lot of things going on. You should have no problem occupying your weekend with workshops, rituals, concerts, drumming, dancing, lectures, catching up with old friends and making new ones.
Along with enjoying the activities and the people, I would urge you to take the time to get to know the place on which it is held- Camp Gaea. Maybe you are not from the area, are new to the community, or are one of the folks who only gets out to Camp once a year for the fest. Please allow me to take a moment to tell you about it.
Camp Gaea is not just a campground HSA rents out each year. Gaea is a retreat center that is available and utilized year round. She is open to the public and, for a very reasonable fees are welcome. Traditionally a sanctuary for practitioners of various forms of alternative lifestyles and/or spirituality, Gaea is not just for Pagans.
Camp has actually been around since the 1920's and has gone through various incarnations as a church camp, a nudist area, and its present incarnation. Take a moment to feel the energy and you will know, as I do, that this place has been a site of spirituality and community since the times of the Ancients.
Camp Gaea is managed by a corporation called Earth Rising. This is, in fact, what makes Camp unique among this sort of retreat center. All others are privately owned and affiliated with a certain group while Camp is corporately owned and managed by group representing a cross-section of the groups it serves.
A single caretaker lives on site but there are no paid employees. All of the endless, backbreaking, and, many times, thankless work it takes to run and maintain Camp Gaea is done by a very small group of volunteers. It is awe inspiring when you think of all it takes just to keep the buildings sound, the roads drivable, and the ditches cleaned, let alone handling disasters like the pavilion collapse a few years ago and making improvements like the bath house and the new (and much safer) stairs. This handful of people does it all while somehow meeting all of the financial obligations Camp faces. It may not be flashes and puffs of smoke but there is no arguing that it is magick.
Why they do it is no secret- it is for the love of the land. Those of us who are privileged enough to call Gaea our spiritual home understand this all too well. In your short visit with all the frenetic activity going on around you, there may be no time for you to get to know her the way we do and I wish there were some way to convey it to you.
You see, many people who come to the fest don't understand that Gaea is sacred land. They don't know that she is as sacrosanct as our homes. They don't realize that her wooded glens are our church and her stones our altars. They don't comprehend that, when they disrespect the Land they are disrespecting our Mother.
I know the folks at HSA handed you a whole sheaf of rules. They are obligated to do so. However, the rules of Camp Gaea are simple: Respect the land, respect others, and respect yourself. Not bad rules to follow no matter where you are.
Have a blast at the fest. Throw off the shackles of the mundane world and just enjoy being a Pagan- whatever that means to you. Be sure to bid generously at the Silent Auction and to throw something in the Wishing Well down by the Dining Hall.
I would urge you, also, to come back when things are quieter. Take some time to walk the trails, swim in the lake, and enjoy the energy of the sacred places. Get to know the real Camp Gaea and the healing, rest, and inspiration she can give you.

- The Pendragon

posted by The Pendragon at 8/08/2003 06:54:00 PM

Pomp and Circumspect

It's over. The speeches have been given, the awards announced, the names
called as each graduate crossed the stage and the threshold between being a
child and being an adult. Among them was my own son. It was the proudest moments
of my life to see him festooned in cap, gown, and cords, taking his medals and
diploma, and moving his tassel to the other side of his mortarboard.

To be sure, the day was all about him. The accomplishment and the honor were
all his and he deserved his moment in the sun. It has been a harder struggle for
him, perhaps, than most of the others in his class. It is hard enough being a
boy growing up in a cold and heartless world but he had the added burden of
doing so without a mother in his life. 

For the past nine years it has been just him and me- the only child and the
single parent. It has been rough trying to be both mom and dad and to
single-handedly provide discipline, material needs, and nurturing. Like any
parent, I saw failure looming around every corner and spent many a night laying
awake and worrying about what would become of my child. There are so many
pitfalls, so many dangers, so many chances for disaster- everything from drugs
to getting some young woman pregnant, how could even a team of parents keep a
child safe and secure, let alone one man also trying to have a career and a
life? You stumble, you fall, but you keep trying while you hold your breath and
hope for the best.

That's all over for me now. Sure, I will be his father for the rest of his
life. That will never change. I will always hold that sacred and daunting
office, even when his own son or daughter is keeping him awake at night.
However, I have completed the job of  parenting. He is an adult now. He is
not only able to but also responsible for making his own decisions. All I can do
is grit my teeth when I see him making a bad one and be there to do what I can
to repair the damage. But I no longer have to be there day in and day out,
watching over him and guiding him every step of the way. That job is done.

If I do say so myself, it was a damn fine job at that. Not only has he completed
High School, he has also been accepted to the same university I attended and
will be receiving a couple of scholarships. He was planning to petition to
enroll in a professional school, normally done during the Junior year. At
that  time, his grades and other factors would be examined and, if he was
good enough, he would be granted admittance. That's not going to happen now.
Last night, he was notified that he will be one of the first freshmen ever
to be accepted into that professional school.   

The orchestra has played, the caps thrown, and the ceremony has ended. It was
all for him and he earned it. But I earned some honors of my own. I graduated
from being responsible for someone else's life. My diploma is a healthy, happy
son going out into a very bright future that portends nothing but good for him.
I have moved my tassel from  "full time, single parent" to 
just standing by in case he needs me (and supplementing those scholarships with
some checks of my own). There will be no speeches made for me and no formal
recognition of what I have done but, inside my head the orchestra of life is
playing "Pomp and Circumstance"

posted by The Pendragon at 5/22/2003 04:46:00 PM