Farewell, Bok the Chicken.

Pretty Bok
Image by Modern Scribe Photography

My sweet love had to put down our last chicken today; the poor biddy was sick and dying and he wanted to shorten her pain.

He spoke her a sweet eulogy:

"Rest in peace, Bok. All life is made new. All life is forever. Now feed the grandchildren of the worms you ate. Feed the blackberries whose fruit you loved. Restore the damaged soil. Return to us within the sweet black juice and we will remember you in the summer sun."

Our next step is a revamping of the chicken coop and run area, and so it may be a while before we have chickens sharing space with us again.  

The spring snows are still moving in, but we are looking at our yard with eyes towards growing season - planning to feed ourselves with raised beds and a potted garden this year.

Keep warm, think of spring, and have a good time!

Are you Ready to Die?

Boo! - by Modern Scribe Photography

October. Samhain. The Turn of the Wheel.

At a festival years ago, Eric and I were asked to hold a position in an autumnal ritual - to play the role of questioner, of taunter, of fae...in this case, some little devils known as the "Ooga Boogas."

Sunset had begun. A line of ritual attendees paraded themselves to the valley with the raised circle waiting for them, and they were all told to think of the goals we wanted to accomplish in the coming solitude of the winter months, and were also to contemplate the harvest of our mind and body's work of the previous year.

Everyone began to follow this focus and create those visualizations, until they reached the ritual circle. Then as we felt the tug, one by one, all of the Ooga Boogas peeled away silently from the line and began darting around, whispering doubts into the ears of those meditating. We asked them the sort of tough questions that are hard to ask yourself, and even harder to answer.

"Are you happy with your life?"

"What are you doing with your time here on Earth?"

"How much is life worth to you?"

And as the ritual progressed, we melted back into the lines of attendees, all of us riding the waves of magic as it rippled throughout the night. Confidence and reassurance was returned to those who listed to the questions and heard the doubts and fears prompted by our whispers, and the concerns were temporarily forgotten as people began to dance and celebrate around the huge fire ringed by drums.

Day of the Dead, by Modern Scribe Photo.

One of my fellow doubt-bringers was a Priest of the Serpent path and was quite an appropriately chosen Ooga Booga, in my opinion. Yet after the ritual, I found him quite distraught, seemingly wrapped in the doubts he'd been asked to spread. I asked him if he was well, and he explained that he couldn't whisper a single thing to anyone participating. He said that the only question that he could imagine was too harsh, and would terrify people.

The only question he has was "Are you ready to die?"

Most people know me as a creature of light, oh my gentle readers. And this is true. But I am more than that a creature of balance. I acknowledge the dark desires as well as the selfless and pure. And I informed this priest that his question was the more potent and precise of all that I heard asked.

Am I ready to die? Should it all end tomorrow, would I be satisfied with all that I have accomplished, or experienced? Most of my soul feels that it is so - I would not be a weeping and wandering ghost full of unrequited loves and unspoken words. (Were I to be a ghost, I would be one just for the fun of terrorizing and alternately amazing people with my shimmering nature. It's a kick! I suggest you try it sometime, when you are good and dead.)

Are you ready to die? And if not, then what is it you haven't done, and why haven't you done it? This is the season of mirror-staring; of ompaloskepsis, of scrying. Enter into winter prepared, my lovies. This season has some big ripples for us to ride.

Are you ready to live?

Circle and Circle and Circles again...

Candler in Spring, by Modern Scribe Photography

What a month it has been...camping, festivals, dear friends visiting my home and looking to put down roots in these sweet mountains.  There's been patterns woven, and circles coming 'round to completion. It makes me feel grounded, centered, and in tune with the world around me.

A part of being in tune with your world means walking in a balance between life and death.  There is never one without the other; life feeds on life feeds on life, and all life feeds on death to continue...you cannot have one without the other, and it is not something to be feared, in my book.

Life is beautiful:  I will be putting seeds into the earth tomorrow.  Peas and carrots, an onion that sprouted in my cabinets, some potatoes that decided to grow in my pantry.  I will watch these sprout, but will bring a difficult part for me...

Death is certain:  Of those seedlings that grow, some will die by my own hands as I thin the eventual green haze of fresh sprouts. I will be squashing bugs whose crime is only that they live, and want to consume the same leafy goodness that I wish to consume, and my only right is that I am larger. 

Life is astounding: My yard is bringing up it's own bounty: Yarrow, Violets, Dandelions, Sorrels, Heal-all, Clover, Plantain...last year's green friends are coming back: Chamomile, Comfrey, Marigolds, Lavender, and my Shehan Family Iris!

Death is sustaining: Our neighbor's yard is full of chickens, and a trio of goats who love to visit us at the fence to beg for scratch corn or tender honeysuckle vines.  The chickens there will soon have a coop, but until then, are relatively at the mercy of local foxes, and we often find a mostly fox-consumed chicken carcass being pecked at by the other chickens. Never forget, these egg-givers are tiny, feathered dinosaurs! 

Life is sweet:  And so is a yard full of clover and sweet green grass for our own two chickens to nibble on.  As of late, we've been letting them out of the pen to wander the yard for a bit while we clean out the coop and tend to our plants on the lower lot.  They have been having delicious dust baths and scratching through our compost, turning it and eating bugs and clucking merrily!

Death is merciful:  But the other day, as I stumbled down the hill to feed the chickens, feverish and barely awake, I noticed only one chicken freaking out as usual over her pending dinner.  I let her out, and peered into the coop to find the other biddie standing, puffed up and panting.  She wouldn't come out, but let me lift her out.  I could tell she wasn't in a good way, but wasn't sure what was wrong until I looked at her behind...without going into details, I can say that I knew quickly that the only cure I could give my poor egg-providing friend was a quick death.

Now, I've fished, and I've hunted squirrel. I've insisted upon knowing what it is to kill in order to consume - again, that balance of life and death.  But never before had I caused a creature to die by my own hands that I did not intend to consume, or for the sake of mercy.  It is far more difficult than one might imagine. 

Angel the Goat by MSP

Life is Changing:  More and more people are turning to the earth to provide for them, tilling their yards for garden space, picketing their city to allow urban chickens, and lacking that, supporting local farm markets.  I applaud the effort, and want to remind people about rain barrels, and compost bins, and container gardening, and encourage folks to jump in and TRY new things...it's the only way to learn.

Death is Change:  Next time you throw something into your compost bin, think about HOW it breaks down...your useless, discarded food bits and lawn clippings feed the happy little bacteria that consume, defecate, and thereby create fertilizer for the food that you will eat.  I will watch the plot of earth that covers the buried body of my chicken friend and see how bright the grass grows, and watch her death feed the earth.  I will throw squished bugs to the other chicken as I tend my plants, and watch her grow strong from their death.

We are all part of life, and all part of death. 

The greater circle encompasses us all, man, woman, fish, fowl, hooved, winged, whatever...

find your place and your center and grow from there.