So I have finally returned. Mobile blogging on an ipod touch an listening to a pagan station I made on pandora. It is a new spin to be sure... But I am giving this a shot.

Crazy Xmas Dream

So I had a dream this morning...very odd.

I was going on a field trip on a school bus, basically this time of year, and the black man driving the bus started to address us; it built ultimately into a failed attempt at a sermon on the "real meaning of Christmas."

I remember a particularly odd comment about "making a/the Jew do all the work" or "putting it all on the Jew" or something, talking in a seemingly blashphemus way about the Jesus that the Christian ripoff holiday supposedly is about.

The jerk then actually tried to lead us in prayer! Everyone but me bowed their heads and closed their eyes in compliance, except me. I lowered my head a very slight amount, and peered/glared up and him, daring him to notice...and he did. We locked eyes for a moment, and he seemed to challenge me with his stare. I simply shook him off and mouthed a simple but emphatic no.

Towards the end of the dream most people were getting irritated with him, and he was getting irritated that we weren't as spirited as he would have liked. He issued almost a challenge in his statement/question: either "You call yourselves Christians?" or more likely "Ya'll are all Christians, right?"

To my surprise, there was a quiet murmur that built against that statement, a few voices discernable. Mine was loud and distinct as I emphatically announced "No, I'm a Wiccan!"

I pondered what I had just said and strove verbally to correct it, by repeating that "I'm not a Wiccan; I'm [just a] Pagan." But it took some of the fire out of my argument and I gradually got quieter. That's all I remember.

Odd dream. Must have been set in HS, because I decided to report the guy from the beginning for trying to preach on a public school bus. (May have been inspired by the Raider bus driver I wanted to report for airing a sermon on the bus.)

And why in the world did I say I was a Wiccan?

New Beginnings

I type this shortened blog while at work, between calls. I have a lunch break coming up in just a couple of minutes.

This is a time of major change in my life, and I need my faith more than ever.

My health is in cycles, good and bad. I will likely make a return to the doctor on Tuesday, if money allows.

I'm moved into my new apartment, with new roommates, and my space is at a premium. I have to sort through some of my stuff and take it to my parents'; I cannot walk across my own floor, and my altar supplies have been packed up for nearly two weeks now, as they sit atop my dresser.

I'm also mere days away from quitting my main job, Shop at Home, and just over a week away from the start of my final college year.

Similarly, this Friday starts my final season of covering RHS football.

My romantic life is either at a crossroads or ground to a hault, I'm not sure which. And some demons from my past may finally leave me be.

So it is into this new unknown I plunge. Maybe soon enough I can right things, and become the me I need to be.

First-ever Past Life Regression

In the first life I regressed to, I was a native...Native American, I believe, but of the American Southwest, perhaps even in Mexico. A bronzed, muscled Adonis with hair black, like coal, and intense focus in my eyes. I was in my 30s, the prime of health, and while a great warrior and athlete I was not a ruler. I lived in what appeared to be a pueblo house (though there seemed to be some portable teepees in the village) with my lithe, gorgeous wife, similarly dark-skinned but somewhat lighter, with long, flowing, straight, black hair and sensitive but still penetrating dark eyes. We had two children, a boy and a girl, both the same age (maybe twins) with their parents' dark features; we also lived with my aging father--his skin a clay like mine, but with short, white, wiry hair and a beard--and his wife of many years younger, looking like my own wife, but older and not nearly as pretty, her looks marred primarily by a pointed and crooked nose. She was one of the main things I resented about my father--he remarried, to someone so much younger than he, and did not even make a wise choice in his vanity; she was one I seemingly ignored, with indirect and mainly unrealized anger, as I was more focused on him.
I could not pin down a trade; I saw pot-making, spear-crafting (and throwing), and hunting, but nothing that popped. However, we did live well. The purpose for that life, it seems, was to learn to survive...especially with the Spanish coming. One of my greatest moments was dancing around a fire of initiation or celebration, holding the severed head of a Spaniard (by the hair) from each of my bloodied hands, while my tribesmen cheered me on--I had proven myself truly manly, though it seems there wasn't a need to prove that, especially at such an age and comfortable standing. In death, I proved close to my goal, but not quite...while in my 50s (maybe late 50s) I lead a valiant charge against the Spanish armies, only to be run thru by several spears to the chest...and then killed by gunfire. And my name, I never completely got...perhaps Raven, or Raptor, or something about or Of the Soaring Wind.

In my other visualization, I lacked a lot of detail. However, I was a round, robust, and rather fiscally poor pizza maker in what appeared to be Italy. Middle-aged and large, with a grayed mustache that curled at the ends and at times a wide, stereotypical smile, I slaved away in a shop/kitchen with a huge, floor-to-ceiling brick oven. My meager home was full of children, though I know not how many. What I do know is that my wife...was the same. Slightly different features, not as intense, but definitely the same soul; though I doubt she looked this way to the rest of those there, she still to me was a petite but tallish beauty with long, flowing black hair. The only other person I remember was my assistant in the shop and longtime friend, who still only seemed to have a cameo. My name was, I believe Rafael Mario, with the last name beginning with a D. My purpose was to learn to make do with seemingly nothing. However, I never got a chance to explore further, or see if I fulfilled my destiny. It does seem, in hindsight, that my purpose in this life may be similar to that one, though--make something out of the meager beginnings I have come from.

Inception

And so it begins.

Within the past week or so, I discovered that I am actually a Pagan. Not a "Traeist" or an "Other." But simply a Pagan. I discovered this on Beltaine, when searching for a symbol of power and virility to have drawn upon me...a page defined the Trinity as "Body, Mind, and Spirit." The same wording that I've used for years now. And thus, a new chapter was written.

Here I hope to chronicle part of my spiritual journey. Relevant dreams, feelings, experiences, rituals. Such will aid me in my growth.

Shortly after my realization, I had a dream, that I'm convinced wasn't merely that. Removing some of the clutter that comes from my cryptic and random dreams, I was offered three choices by a man with sunken cheeks, his face and body shrouded in a black robe (like a younger Palpatine from Star Wars). For each of the three men that I could meet, a different destiny would result, propelling me past this trying part of my life to a better time. The first, for example, would introduce me to a man who would get me a job. It would be monotonous and less than respectable (pizza delivery, I believe), but I would seem happy...until years later, when it would drive me to suicide. The other two were either more vague, or distance has erased them from my memory, but they carried unspecified, "at a later time" prices, and somehow I knew it meant the life of my first born child (a boy). The figure requested my answer, but I told him I preferred to go my own way, and also to have everything out on the table, especially prices. He became angered, swearing and striking downwards...and then I was awake in my bed.
I know that was no mere dream. A weaker subconscious, a choice of one of the three, and I would have "woken up" in the future in one of those timelines, and I would have regretted it eventually (though likely without true memory of the choice)--that much I'm sure of. Upon deep thought, he was like a personification of the typical conception of "Death," with some "Devil" elements in his means. Very odd.

I was reading up on Wicca at work, and essentially felt silly and self conscious, like I didn't believe it. Like I couldn't believe it. Then, when I got off work, They spoke to me. The mild breeze was the kiss of the Deities. I've never known the air to be so fresh, and the warmth of the morning sun belied the touch of the God Himself. They were around me this morning, laughing off my earlier doubts and reassuring me that I was on the right path. I felt the energy coming from the Earth and from some plants, and as I sank into the seat of my car I smelled the scent of cinnamon, which I later learned is associated with cleansing and spirituality. Fitting, no?

I have taken the time to draw symbols upon my wrists. On my right, the symbol of Goddess; on my left, a Protection mark with the Trinity...and my back should still bear the God mark I was given before. Why these symbols? In about four and a half hours, my mother has surgery on her neck, and I beseech the protection of Goddess and the God that she make it through this surgery with no physical problems at all. I have no altar set up yet, so mere meditation and symbols of invocation are all I can do. Deity...Spirit...I am her, and she is me, and of course, You flow through us all. We are all connected. Please, do not remove her physical presence from us on earth. Not yet...we aren't ready. Protect her, while I try to wrap myself in You. In the Deity, nothing can fail.

I can feel the tingle, as my energies are stirred up. I must meditate on this before bed...for I will be needed soon. Blessed be the Spirit.