http://radiotierra.org KZAS 95.1 FM Hood River, Oregon Mon, 06 Jun 2011 20:59:58 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.1.3 http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/2009/07/full-moons-and-eclipses.html http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/2009/07/full-moons-and-eclipses.html#comments Thu, 09 Jul 2009 21:30:00 +0000 anne ]]> http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/feeds/2844248641661541488/comments/default 0 http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/2009/07/tarot.html http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/2009/07/tarot.html#comments Thu, 02 Jul 2009 16:44:00 +0000 anne ]]> http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/feeds/7596984315855463786/comments/default 0 http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/2009/06/public-spaces.html http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/2009/06/public-spaces.html#comments Tue, 30 Jun 2009 17:24:00 +0000 anne Mary is one of my many attempts to establish a public personal ritual space. I used to have my concrete statue of Aphrodite down in front of Tom’s bookstore. I would lay flowers around her and leave offerings, but no one seemed to notice, and the corner where she sat was a catch-all for organic detritus. It just didn’t work. I considered buying a house near downtown, living upstairs and turning the bottom floor into public ritual space, but that road remains untraveled. Living at the Temple in Nevada was my first experience being in a public ritual space. And it made me realize how needed these spaces are — spaces dedicated to contemplation, divine connection, personal ritual — whatever is needed.
So my hope is as always that Mary may be able to fill a role for someone, be a little space for a private prayer that is held by others. And that seems to me to be the power of these spaces, that our individual prayers are held, held and heard.
As I was getting ready for bed, I realized that I had prepared an offering of my moon blood, but had forgotten to offer it! So, a quick jet outside for a late night ritual was in order. I slipped on my shoes and a robe, and went to the statue of Mary in our yard. In my mind and my heart I held the faces of our friends here in Hood River, the trials and joys personal and public, the circle we weave. I poured my libation, offering my gifts to the gifts of the earth, locating myself in the grand cycle of birth, fertility, and death, and holding us in the arms of this sacred land at the feet of Mary.

]]> http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/feeds/3922129131244798063/comments/default 0 http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/2009/06/stories-of-priestess.html http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/2009/06/stories-of-priestess.html#comments Tue, 30 Jun 2009 17:23:00 +0000 anne This is the story of a Priestess that awoke one day in the arms of her beloved in the cool wetness of the Northwest rainforest. The morning sun stayed veiled behind the clouds, light remaining dim. But the birds and the trees and herbs and the flowers started singing at the first moment of light. The Priestess turned her head toward the chest of her beloved, burying her face and trying to drift back to the darkness of sleep, but the tendrils of light pushing at the veils and the chorus of plants called loudly. Unable to resist or escape the soft morning glow and the green robed choir, the Priestess arose for the day and made coffee for her beloved.
This is the story of a Priestess that awoke one day in a lush and deserted land, long ago and out of time. The morning sun filtered through the slats of her hut, and she turned to bury her head in her straw pallet, pulling a tattered blanket around her shoulders. Warm breath and a distinctive smell broke the spell, and she peered through the slit of one eye. A squared pupil stared back. A sigh arose from her lips, and she smiled at the sweet white goat. Unable to resist or escape the pleading stare, the Priestess arose for the day and began her chores.
These are my stories, the present, the past, the beyond.

]]> http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/feeds/4813291389064049218/comments/default 0 http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/2009/06/journey-to-temple.html http://blog.rabbitmurmurs.org/2009/06/journey-to-temple.html#comments Tue, 30 Jun 2009 17:14:00 +0000 anne Yesterday when we arrived we went up to the Temple straightaway. Walking along the path, I picked up dried twigs for a small fire. It didn’t take much to move me firmly back to this place. I began to sing to the twigs and dried roots, grateful that they would make a quick and lovely fire.
I brought Frankinsence candles as an offering. But I had forgotten the lavender I set out to bring. Well, that just got added to the list of the many things I forgot. But, I remembered the candles. I set the little fire, and it lit so easily while the wind picked up. The chants poured from my mouth, winding with the wind whirling around the temple. The flames lept and crouched, and I sang.
Sitting looking into Her eyes, I melted into the stone floor. Melding, becoming one with this sacred place. Feeling Her presence, Her fire, Her light, Her dark gleaming. The wind spiraled around me, the flames reached towards me, and suddenly drops of rain pelted in, carried by the wind. I was cleansed, blessed, and filled to the brim.

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