Diana shows the way

I went to the funeral of the mom of a friend from grade school and high school. I've been able to stay Facebook friends with both this friend and her older sister. There are not many of us who are of like minds from my school days. The funeral was a chance to pay respects and see my mom. My mom 7 aunt came from across Lake Pontchartrain - a ~40 mile drive.
When everyone went into the chapel, I just could not do the organized religion thing. So I waited outside until they were done. I wasn't sure if I should have just sucked it up and gone in and sat in the back. Then I turned and saw this lamp and was comforted by the statue of Diana. Essentially saying it's OK. Be your own woman. Be your own light.

Image Description:

Brass statue of Diana with her right hand reaching over her shoulder to a quiver of arrows and her left hand on the head of an antlered deer. No bow.

Statue is the base of a lamp on a round table with a pink marble inset top. Through the windows there is a view of a covered porch, the lawn and, the street in the background.

Dying AND LIVING!!!!

This article is worthy of a read.

"I'd never admit it to my husband and kids, but more than anything else, it's my own body I'll miss most of all. This body that danced and ate and swam and had sex and made babies. It's amazing to think about it. This body actually made my children. It carried me through this world."

"...About how the apples they stole from the orchard on the way home from school tasted, and how their legs and lungs burned as they ran away. The feel of the water the first time they went skinny-dipping. The smell of their babies' heads. The breeze on their skin the first time they made love outside."

"And dancing."

The Charge of Aradia recommends:
"And you shall rejoice, and sing; making music and low. For this is the essence of spirit, and the knowledge of joy."

Perhaps we should listen....

Tomb with a View

Life next to a cemetery
Tomb with a View
Chris Rose - Gambit

I see dead people. Every day, I am presented with the physical manifestations of eternity. Or maybe faith is the better term. I live amid the remnants and architecture of ritual. I bear witness to the ceremonial and liturgical transference of the departed from this world to, presumably, the next.

  Fancy talk for telling you: I live next to a cemetery.

  In some towns, that might not be a good thing. It might be spooky or depressing. I don't know anything about real estate, but it seems reasonable to postulate that these little cities of granite, marble and stone, with their solicitations of grief and their constant reminder of mortality — hell, why sugarcoat? With their constant reminder of death! — might not be the curb appeal every potential homebuyer is looking for.

  In some towns.

  They are serene, oddly comforting, the small, quiet gatherings that occur here. There are no more than two or three a month in my cemetery, it seems. They never strike me as depressing. Truth is, I hear more laughter in my cemetery than sorrow. Maybe that's part of New Orleans' curious relationship with death; you know, that "we put the 'fun' in funerals" thing.

  I have lived in New Orleans for 25 years, but only this fall did I move across the street from a cemetery. It is such an iconic neighbor, like living, I suppose, next to a vineyard in France, a Roman aqueduct in Italy, pyramids in Egypt or in the shadow of the Great Wall of China; before the senses have fully taken in the surroundings, the story of these places is already revealed to us. They are not natural wonders by any means, but reminders that man, too, is capable of producing wondrous things.

  That's one way to put it. The terms I generally use to describe living next to a cemetery are considerably less didactic: "It's really cool!" is generally how I explain it to my friends.

  Most old cities seem to have at least one cemetery that is a source of civic pride and/or historical significance. But I don't know of any other place where every cemetery invokes a sense of place, a sense of pride; in New Orleans, cemeteries are among the most pervasive and visible reminders of our otherness.

  Drop me into a cemetery anywhere else in the country, and I would be at a loss to tell you where I am. Drop me off in New Orleans, and I can tell you immediately: I am home.

  My kids — 7, 9 and 11 — are just getting over their squeamishness about our new neighbors. For a long time, they exuded a determined disinterest in the cemetery; they knew they weren't supposed to be scared of it — after all, the other kids in the neighborhood seem fine with it — but, still, they were pretty freaked out for a while.

  Now, we walk our dog, scooter and play in our cemetery. In fact, I've often wondered about the propriety of that, wondered, as I once watched my children play hide and seek: What are the boundaries?

  Many years ago, a girlfriend of mine took my mother and my aunt — visiting from Maryland — to lunch while I was at work. She picked up some seafood po-boys and sodas at the St. Roch Market and took them to St. Roch Cemetery where she spread their bounty across a stranger's tomb and they ate and visited with each other.

  Needless to say, my folks thought St. Roch was a marvelous, beautiful place to behold. But the story they brought home with them was about the curious girl who took them to lunch at a cemetery! Now there's a story for the folks back home.

  But that's what we do, no? Is that OK? What are the rules, I have always wondered? (And I've no doubt that before this week is out, someone will dutifully inform me.)

  My cemetery is rundown, overgrown and mostly deserted. Tourists don't come here. But I find I have taken a proprietary interest in my cemetery. To me, it is prettier than all the grand Cities of the Dead that make New Orleans famous.

  Funny, I realize: I love my cemetery. From it, I draw a great deal of reflection, serenity and peace. Odd, but from my cemetery, I draw so much life.

Dancing in Drag with the Dead

New Orleans is and always has been full of characters. Buddy Diliberto was one of them. He was a local sports caster who once claimed that if the Saints made it to the SuperBowl he'd wear a dress on Bourbon Street. Buddy died in January 2005.

Last Sunday thousands of men, most straight, but I'm sure some gay, danced in drag down Bourbon street in his honor and in honor of the fact that the Saints made it to the Superbowl. So that's:
- years of sports casting by a local character,
- a Win in the last playoff game of the football 2009 season the Sunday before,
- one week for, Bobby Hebert the guy to who took over for Buddy D (and who probably had a good deal to do with the original reasons Buddy D made the off hand comment) to plan a parade resulting in thousands of people on the street , mostly straight men in drag.

There are more than a few theories floating around about why 5 years after his death people remembered his promise and followed through en mass.
"He's the connection people have to when they were younger, watching the games with their dad or grandpa," he said. "There are all these people whose parents lived through all the bad times but died before this day finally came. Buddy connects to all of them, because he was there from the very beginning. He's the common thread."

But I think another reason is that New Orleanians understand the importance of honoring the ancestors and maintaining the link to those on the other side. It is just a part of who we are and what we do here, naturally. We celebrate death with our Jazz Funerals and we celebrate the dead. Granted in unique ways. Last weekend Bourbon Street was one big offering on the collective New Orleans Lare Shrine for Buddy D.

A candle burning to light the way

Today a friend, and someone born to be Strega, experienced the greatest of all initiations. To honor her I gathered all the Owls that I had in my house together in one place. Owls were special to her. I cast a circle and read the rite of passage. And cried and smiled remembering her. So did 2 other Strega in straight line up the Mississippi River toward Canada, where our friend was born. Whether we were trying to or not, we coordinated the timing of the rite.

I didn't have all the woods (Juniper, Sandalwood, Cedar) but I did have all the woods necessary in incense form so I burned the 3 incense types. I also had pennyroyal in the garden and used fresh cut from my backyard on the shrine and the smell was intense.

After casting the circle, I moved over to the small shrine and read the rite out loud, and cried. I was moved to actually say something out loud about Lore even though it was only me in the room.

I then moved back to the circle altar and did a TAROT spread, which included the Sun, The Wheel of Fortune & The World and the Ace of Wands & Swords.

I added some Strega Oil/Extract to the Spirit Bowl and refilled it with Everclear and watched the Spirit Flame for awhile. When it got to the point where it should just wick out, the flames began jumping and crackling. This was of course the Strega Oil burning. But it felt like Lore saying goodbye. She liked her magics. It took almost as long for these remnants to burn out as it had the for the whole bowl of Spirit Flame. And when the flame was gone it truly felt like closure.


"We gather now in honor of our Sister who has crossed over and begun the sacred journey to the Realms of Luna. We wish you well on your journey, and send with you the emanations of our love, and our friendship. We know that the sorrow that we feel is of our own making. There has been no loss among us, for we shall meet each other again in a future life to come. And we shall remember, and know each other, and love again. We shall speak your name and remember you at Shadowfest. If it be that we shall see you, or speak with you, then let it be of your own desire. For it is not our wish that our desires should bind you to this life.

May the Great Lord and Lady receive you into their care, and may they comfort you and prepare you to be born anew.

May the realms of Luna give you all that you desire, and may you find peace and pleasure, and reunion with those who have gone before. Farewell dear sister, farewell dear friend. Blessed be."

Remembering my friend on her birthday

Today was Dana (Polly Surette) Pastori's birthday.

On July 27,2009 via a front page newspaper article I found out that she had been murdered in 2002, her body discovered in October 2005 in the PostKatrina chaos, and her boyfriend arrested on a million dollar bond in June of 2008. He was convicted of her murder last week as well and sentenced to live in prison without parole.

To say I was deeply affected only begins to describe how I felt. Some will ask, "But if you had not heard from her since 2002 how close could you have been?" and this is a reasonable question.

I met Dana (before she changed her name to Polly) in the early 90's. She moved to New Orleans after she left her husband. She was with me when I was still searching for my path. She was Italian in some of her heritage and definitely in her looks but Norse, very strongly so, in her pagan practices. She wanted us to be able to work together. She hoped that I would, with my Germanic background, find a home in the Norse/Odinic tradition. We shared a love of learning and talking and practicing what we learned. But we walked 2 different paths.

In me Dana found someone who was open and accepting of who she was, all of her facets and I found the same. With each other we could be fully ourselves. She said once, and I knew when she said it that she was right, that I would always be lonely, even with people who were my friends if I didn't feel as if I could share all of who I was: the corporate woman, wife, mother, scientist, and witch. Dana was my friend because we shared all the aspects of our lives with each other and we trusted and could depend on each other.

I remember telling Dana that I was going to try to have (my daughter) a baby. I said (and this was before Raven Grimassi had published Ways of the Strega) that I wanted to invite the souls of those who had passed but who had positively influenced me a place to reincarnate. Dana asked me, quite surprised, where I had read this. I had to think about it but I said, I really hadn't read about it, but it seemed reasonable that if you believe in reincarnation that you'd want to offer a positive environment for your soul family. She just shook her head at me quite amazed.

I also remember the Shadowfest/Halloween in 1994 when we did a ritual to call this soul family while the veil was thin. Dana carved the rune for fertility on the white candle we burned. I was pregnant by the 1st week in December and 34 years old. I have always believed that the power Dana had as a witch helped make my life what it is today.

Dana loved her daughters. She was separated from them by her powerful and mean spirited ex husband. She had visitation rites before she ended up "stealing them". I saw her 2 daughters. I watched and comforted her as she tried every legal means possible to get "the state" to protect them and give her custody. When she took them they were shadows of what children should be, too thin and needing her.

She was able to protect them for years. But her contact with an old friend from the Czech Republic, lead to the police finding her. She was convicted and sentenced to probation, which she served out in New Orleans. She lived with me and my family until she could get back on her feet. Her solace in all this was that she was able to have time with her children when they were young. They got to know their mother. And as a result of her taking them they were watched by the state to ensure that their father would do right by them.

Dana had a complex life. Her father, the man her mother was married to, abused her when she was young. This of course affected her for life. But this man was not her biological father. She didn't know her biological father until later in life. But once she found him was able to connect. He was always good to her and I know that she loved him and his family. I want to be able to remember the good that there was in her too short life.

I wish she had been able to go to the Czech Republic as she said she was in our last conversation. She was getting away from New Orleans, from the US, until her daughters were old enough to be able to ask for her. It was always her hope to be able to reunite with them.

To "seal our friendship" and thank me for the being there "when there was no other", Dana/Polly gave me a magical box, filled with magical charged items. One of the things in this box was her first pentacle. It was made by a pagan from a piece of her jewelry, a peridot (our shared birthstone) earring. She said it "showed me my craft". I wear it to remember her and to strengthen my pagan practice.


One of the things in the magical box was a bird nest "plucked from a tree by my love", the man who killed her. She said I should use it if I ever needed to renew my life. Just yesterday I took the nest to the Mississippi River and tossed it in. I do want to renew my life. I'm sure Polly understands this perfectly. I also wanted her and me to be free of any connection to her murderer. Watching the nest sink into the river helped me release my friend.

Before her divorce she was in a terrible accident and literally died at the hospital. She always said this changed her. It opened her to the pagan path in a powerful way. I'll always be glad that she and I shared a small part of this lifetime together. She was a unique individual who never stopped learning from her experiences even when they weren't all good. I hope to meet know and remember her in another lifetime to come.

Death & Disney

I had to attend a funeral today. It made me think about my Lasa/Lare Shrine and my Grandmother and explaining death to a 5 year old.

My Gran died when he was 83 years old. She was a "Tough Cookie". Everything I learned about tenacity and thoroughness and principle I learned at my Gran's knee. She could also occasionally be a pill, so I remember this when I slip or when my daughter shows these tendencies. Any way, during Gran's on and off stays at the hospital for the last ~8 months of her life my 5 year old daughter and I would visit Gran. My daughter had visited Gran regularly before the hospital stays started but, we visited every other weekend while she was in the hospital. I say this so you will know that my daughter *knew* her great-grandmother. This was the first person that she has ever known who died. So this was a *BIG* deal.

Here is where I thank Disney. There isn't much death in Disney. There are only a few scenes where you actually *see* death happen. I can recall the Mom's death in Bambi (but you really hear and *feel* that death more than see it), the Dragon in Sleeping Beauty, Ursula in the Little Mermaid, (which we “zoomed past” for a long time because of the negative witch portrayal) and the Gorilla in Tarzan. The Gorilla is Tarzan's pseudo father so seeing his death has a bigger impact on the watcher. About the 4th or 5th time we sat through Tarzan, my daughter asked me right after the Gorilla dies, "Mommie why do your eyes close when you die?" Uhmmmmmmm (quick Mom-thinking here)... "Well 'cause you don't need you eyes when you are dead."

My daughter is a big anatomy and physiology fan she wants to know how everything works. She has a huge kid's book, 3 feet high with pictures of kid anatomy and we've covered a lot of the how your body works stuff. So it’s not totally off the wall for me to say: "When we die we don't need our eyes, or our hearts any more that's why we can give them to other people whose eyes or hearts don't work as well or are making them sick or unable to run and play or read books." Well that is, thankfully, enough for her at the time and the end of the discussion.

When Gran died, I had to find a way to tell my daughter. I also had to prepare her for any stuff that people could say to her about her Gran's death. So we had a little quiet time that evening and I told her that Gran had died. With small kids it is sometimes hard to know what they think so I went on: "Mommie thinks that when you die you go on to be a spirit. We don't need our bodies any more and so we become spirits." I don't say Angels. I intentionally use the more generic term Spirit. And I very specifically say *Mommie thinks*, because Dad thinks when you're done, you're done, that's it! Here is where I thank Disney again. "Do you know how Mulan lights the incense and then the Blue Spirits come out and find a way to help Mulan?" Yes, big head nodding she remembers this... Who can forget the Blue Ancestor popping out and Eddie Murphy as Mushu! "Well now Gran is a Blue Spirit." More head nodding and eyes lighting up in anknowledgement. O.K. I see that works. Whew!

New Orleans is a very old fashion town so we have a wake/visitation but only from 8-11 AM. Then there is the service at the funeral home by the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod Pastor and I sit through it thinking how glad I am not to believe the stuff. When the service is over at 11:30 I dash out to get my daughter from School. The Gods must have helped with the timing because I got to school right at 11:40 which was when I said I would be there and as I was driving on to the cemetery I dropped off of the Interstate with the funeral procession exactly 5 blocks behind me. So we go on to the burial. We watch as the casket is taken out and I tell my daughter that even though Gran doesn't need her body anymore we still put her body in a special box and in a special place because we loved Gran. That works, thankfully, for my very practical daughter.

There was a huge flower arrangement on the casket from children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren and after the service all of the children and grandchildren and great Grandchildren take a flower or 2 out of the arrangement. Later, after gathering with close friends and family for lunch, hanging out and telling tales about Gran, we go home. My 5 year old holds the flowers as we drive and we decide where we are going to put them. She wants to put hers in the dining room. I have 2 roses and say I'm going to put them in "Mommie's special spot downstairs". She dutifully remembers which flowers go where and makes sure that they get to the special spot. The special spot is, of course, my Lasa Shrine. I don't push anything that evening. The kid has had a full day, but she watches as I light a candle before going upstairs.

A few days later, I'm digging through some pictures to find a picture of my Gran and PaPa to place in the Lasa Shrine. I find it and my daughter helps me take it downstairs and I put it next to the flowers. And we talk, for the first time really, about the Lasa Shrine. "You know how Mulan goes to a special house to light the incense for her ancestors? Well this is Mommie's special spot for her ancestors and now that Gran is a spirit I thought that we could put her picture here and light a candle for her." Eyes lighting up, she gets it (totally cool!), then "Mommie can *I* light the candle?". Sure kid. Thanks Disney.

Ever notice that the Fairy in Pinocchio is Blue? Traditionally the lasa/spirit light and the life in the light of the spirit flame is said to be blue. Disney either got lucky or really did their homework or had a Pagan link way back there. I’m envisioning a sort of a group of modern Age of Enlightenment type thinkers, not really Pagan but open to those sorts of ideas. Either way it’s nice to be able to use these mundane tools to help explain my path to my daughter.