July 2011 – The Abysmal Witch

Funereal Thoughts and a postscript

Yesterday was the funeral for my kindred spirit.

It took place at a Lutheran church. Funerals tend to make me think two things:

– how well does the person doing the service speak to the emotional needs of those present

– what rituals are done to help the people process the moment (with a postscript ponderation on Wiccan and Pagan rituals around death, or lack thereof)

These can be the same thing but not necessarily so. Sometimes the service addresses the emotional component without ritual. Sometimes the ritual is about a spiritual moment rather irrespective of the funeral.

Our clergy are not trained, not in the go to school, classroom, teacher way. Many of us find our own way (though some are lucky to have guidance!). We aren’t given pre-set forms on how to handle death for a congregation or psychological training for handling the emotional impact. I’m not saying we can’t and aren’t good at it, just that we don’t have a formal training system to make sure we all get there with a measured level of competence.

We also don’t have pre-set rituals. I mean, here we were, a crowd of probably 150 people lined up in the pews, sharing bound books with the order of the ceremony laid out, complete with hymn references and prayers. Go to any Lutheran church and I’m betting it’s the same. I also wouldn’t be surprised on similarities between different Christian sects.

Again, not a bad thing that we don’t have such hidebound fixed rituals. 😉 But I wonder if we will feel a lack in future years when more of us start passing on (an interesting part of being such a young religion). There was such comfort for people in being able to share the familiar ritual. It was a touch-stone, a grounding, a communal centering into the moment that would lay pathways to help make things just a little easier in the days to come.

I think I’d be the type to want a wake. Sure, a eulogy would be nice, but I’d love for people to share stories about me (I don’t think there would be a lack of them), to remember me as I am in life. I think I will contemplate the ritual part. I may even get back to you with it.

Have you thought about it? How you want those left behind to deal with your absence? Have you told anyone so that it may actually happen?

~Abysmal Witch

As promised, a postscript (originally I was calling this a funny postscript, but as I wrote it up I realized that it wasn’t really funny, but I still found it interesting):

At 3 in the morning (why, oh why, is it always 3 in the morning for such things?) last night my cats woke me up with thunderous running on my balcony. Since they’re only allowed out if they behave I pulled myself out of bed and called at them to come in. They were more than a little slow at it but finally arrived and I shoved the door shut behind them.

That was when I noticed what had caused the delay. The cause of the noise outside was a big, chubby moth that they’d been playing with. They came inside but only after they’d grabbed the moth and carried it in with them.

I was heart-bursting proud at that moment that they’d listened to me. (Following a command rather than just doing what they want was impressive for a pair of brattish cats, but doing so when there was a live creature involved was just this side of miraculous.)

It also struck me as funny given that of course they would have their own way in the end.

An illicit pleasure in lists of achievement

They say the first step is admitting you have a problem.

I like to make lists. In particular, I like to list what I’ve accomplished in a day. And I don’t want to just make a written list, I want to tell people. I don’t because what could be more boring? (Okay, maybe somedays I do with a tweet or to an unlucky close friend, but I really am showing a lot of restraint!)

Maybe it feels more real if I tell others? Maybe I’m shouting my pride out to the world? I don’t know, but somehow the thrill of accomplishment is even greater when I can splatter shot the world with proof of it.

On the flip side, there is something really great about listing all you got done in a day. And if you balance that achievement against how you felt at the start of the day (or how inspired you felt during the day), most times I find I come out ahead. As in, I’m really freaking proud of what I’ve accomplished.

I take time to count the little things. It’s easy to count the big things, but the little things can matter even more. Why? Because they are what you are doing everyday. If you wait for the thrill of success from a big thing, you could be waiting for awhile. If you count up your little ‘done’ items, you can be proud of yourself everyday.

Some days just getting out of bed is the biggest accomplishment (that’s where you have to take into account your state of being that you were accomplishing things in, because it can dramatically affect your output and acknowledging that puts a supposed ‘lack’ of accomplishment into its proper perspective).

Other days the list of things that got done can be huge! I love those days. They’re usually cleaning days (errand days are pretty good, but errand running can take a lot longer than intended). The trick is not to count the overall task as just one thing, but to break it out into its component parts that could have been done separately, on different days even.

We forget about the little things. To count them as part of the larger whole. Sometimes to plan for them (remembered everything for the ritual except something that could actually light a fire, oops!). It’s so easy to dismiss them as next to nothing.

But they’re not! Those little things make up the big moments. Those little things are what life is made of. When you tally the little things, you start to see just how full life is. Don’t gloss over it by using big labels that ignore all the pieces that make it up.

Think I’m going to go make a list of all the things I got done today. And then I’m going to bask in the glow of how damn good I feel about myself. 😀

Life ho!

Abymsal Witch – Episode 5

Last night I did a ritual to say farewell to my friend. I recorded a podcast episode right afterwards (so that I would remember what I had done) as I thought some of you might find such a ritual interesting and/or helpful someday.

Above is the altar (or part of it). I think it’s pretty. But then, candlelight makes most things lovely. Following is a picture of the inside of the offering bowl (for a description of what is in it and what it was used for, you’ll need to listen to the podcast).

Sometimes we need to remember to not just drink from life, but sniff it, too. Scent is a powerful tool, but that is a topic for another day.

Take care of yourselves, and those around you.

~Abysmal Witch

I lost a kindred spirit today.

Not long after I started working at my University, I made a phone call to our central finance department to try and fix some problem (the details of which are last in the annals of time…it has been over twelve years after all). And that’s when I ‘met’ C.

C was wonderfully capable – he could fix or find someone to fix any problem that related at all to his world. But that wasn’t the important part.

We didn’t meet in person for maybe a year. Over the last twelve years we’ve probably met as many times in person though talked on the phone a bit more than that. But that didn’t matter.

When we talked, we talked. He had the most ridiculous stories. I’m 93% sure they were all real (or is that I’m sure at least 93% of them were real?). He was outrageous, funny, bright, and we would share work stories and home stories and opposite sex stories. He threatened to do nasty things to my new car. He was the ring-leader of his morning commute (he would do things like convince the newbie ((the same people rode the bus day in and day out)) that the goodies that someone had brought that day was a regular occurrence and convinced the newb to bring goodies their next time on that bus).

I’m shocked he was never brought up on sexual harassment charges.

But I guess that was ultimately due to his caring nature (though some of the things he said! lol).

About two months ago I heard that he was in the hospital with cancer. He was in his early 50s, quite possibly going to take early retirement. He’d had various physical difficulties over the years but he’d never let that stop him from living life.

I was going to visit him that weekend but my back acted up and I didn’t make it. My own life took over and time passed. And then I wasn’t sure he was still in the hospital, so I would have to call and check he was there before dropping in on him.

Today I learned that he died on Saturday.

I am so sad. We weren’t close friends, but he was a kindred spirit and he is gone. I regret that I never said a final ‘you nutcase!’ to him. I could wallow in self-blame, ‘should’ on myself for not getting to the hospital as I intended. But that is foolish. I made the choices I made and he certainly would not blame me for it.

There are so many things I could focus on but there’s just one I want to say:

To all of my kindred spirits out there, whether I’ve met you in person or only online, whether we’re close friends or random acquaintances, whether we ever get the chance to spend much time together or not, I honour our kindred nature.

You rock 🙂

unnnnn Type 2 Zombie

It is important to recognize the different types of zombies. Both to be sure to use the most effective method of slaughter or immobilization and also to recognize the first incipient signs of turning in you or your allies.

Type 2 is the post-long-day zombie. Identifiable by the swollen eyes and slow, dragging movement. Very similar to Type 1’s (the too-early-morning zombie) in the movement making it all the more important to pay attention to the small details. The Type 2 will be emitting a scent reminiscent of quickly eaten lunch and may have a strong overtone of old coffee.

Type 2 zombies will also be sporting hair that looks like it was once combed, perhaps even coiffed, but has been dragged into disarray by the very events that turned it into the zombie. Its clothes will have that same once professional quality that has been subsequently destroyed.

Thankfully Type 2’s are notoriously slow and disinclined towards movement of any sort, even in search of brains. However, they appear to emanate a brain deadening zone for several feet around themselves. Any human who fails to notice the presence of this zombie runs a strong risk of falling prey to this brain killing zone. Once that happens the human will likely begin to turn into a Type 2.

Type 2’s are almost invariably encountered at the end of work days. Be careful! Our own tired state can exacerbate our vulnerability to the brain deadening zone.

Some recovery from the Type 2 zombie state has been reported. However, this supposed miracle has never been reliably documented.

I hope this information will help to protect some of you from the ever increasing zombie hoarde.

So pack your ammo, keep your friends close and always remember rule #32: enjoy the little things.

(Movie) Theater Etiquette: Time for a Manners Revolution?

A couple of weeks ago, I and three amigos headed off to see Wicked, the musical. Which is fabulous, and I definitely recommend it. But that is not the point of this post.

Sitting before the four of us were five friends. Five head bopping, head turning, CELL PHONE USING, talking twenty-somethings.

Our post-show discussion covered many of the fabulous moments of the show (“the ‘guh’ is silent”, “not everyone can travel by bubble”, songs that were catchy as hell) and an analysis of the lack of manners in kids today. It is funny to note that our ages range from early thirties to early forties. So we’re not that old. lol I had the same experience in New York, at the plays I went to, people texting and using their cell phones, people talking constantly.

What happened to respecting the community of fellow theater goers? What happened to respecting the ART of the show? Why the hell would you spend over a hundred dollars for a ticket and then watch your cell, not the show?

Time passes and last night I and two amigos went to see X-men: First Class. Sitting beside me was a group of three or more friends (yes, twenty-somethings). Not that long into the movie (which was really good, btw), the chick beside me pulls out her cell phone.

I really hate cell phones in theaters. I don’t care if you think you’re hiding the light from your screen. You’re not. I tell you now, I and many others can see it and it’s distracting and therefore offensive.

Without thinking I turn to her and state flatly, “no”.

She looks at me, startled, and covers the screen with her hand, not saying a word.

“I can still see it.” My voice is quiet but I like to think there was a plank of steel in it.

She makes some odd jerky movement, turns it off, puts it in her purse, zippers that closed and puts it down.

During the movie she and her friends talked at regular 5-10 minute intervals, the third girl, farthest from me, was on her cell for so long I’m really surprised she bothered to spend the ten bucks for the movie. What was the point? She wasn’t watching it. The talking continued, so did the texting or game playing. At one point the girl beside me pulled out wet wipes and started giving herself an upper body bath (those things reek of citrus chemical smells). She fidgeted; she was in and out of her purse constantly. Towards the end she pulled out her cell phone again but she leaned far forward and covered it with her hair and body. Since I really couldn’t see the light from it, I didn’t say anything.

Until the movie was over.

The lights came up and I turned to my neighbours and tell them very calmly that they needed to work on their movie etiquette. That I’d been able to hear them talking throughout the movie, quite clearly. That I could see their friend’s cell phone being used. That it was all very distracting.

I was not rude. I did not yell. I commented on their actions, not them as people.

I felt like a parent.

They listened, they nodded and they apologized.

I nodded and turned back to my friends. My point was made. There was no need to belabour it, to harp on them, or to work at making them feel bad (or wore, as the case may be).

What about you? Do you feel like it is time for a manners revolution? Is it time to speak up when people behave badly? Instead of sitting there and trying to ignore the self-centered, immature, I-hope-to-gods-that-they-just-never-learned-better behaviours, why don’t we confront them, gently, with all of the communication grace of our maturity and work at teaching people what they’ve either never learned or have forgotten?

It’s not about fixing that moment in time. It’s already been tarnished. But by speaking up, by calling people on their actions, by being the consequence that bites them on the ass, maybe the next time they’ll behave better. Maybe the next person sitting beside these girls at a movie theatre won’t even notice that they are there.

Maybe together we can help young souls come to a greater understanding of the consequences of their choices.

Are you with me?