smokey t cat

HE CREPT INTO MY LIFE on soft grey paws, an orphaned kitten; skinny, hungry and looking for affection. That first couple of days he crawled all over me while I sat at my office desk, or when we went home. Clearly, he was happy to have a person of his own.

My son loved him and named him Smokey, which described him perfectly as he was the color of deep smoke rising from the fire. I suppose RavenHawk was about 7 or 8 then -- time has a way of blurring details of the past.

Our life as a family was a pretty happy one, once Smokey settled in. He was curious, as cats are wont to be, and he wanted to be around, though eventually he determined that it was perfectly ok to pet him, but he certainly didn't want to be held. RavenHawk learned his favorite scratching place was under the chin and we all gave him plenty of those kinds of scratches.

The years flew by, and our lives changed. My marriage, to Raven's dad, hadn't been good for quite a while and we grew further apart. I met someone who I ended up falling in love with, and eventually marrying... Smokey came along with me after a brief struggle as to who would hold ownership. 

A creature of very set habit, Smokey didn't like his new home at first. He found a hidey-hole behind the laundry, and stayed there for a few weeks, only sneaking out occasionally. Eventually, though, he got comfy with his new surroundings. Then, the unthinkable - a new cat, yet another foundling, joined the household. She was the boss, and swiftly let Smokey know it. His home for a year was the room we used as an office; his litter box and food were in there and he dared not step beyond the door. 

At last that feline relationship stabilized to one of uneasy truce, and Smokey grew brave, coming out more and more often, until he felt comfortable enough to rejoin the rest of us and live in the whole house. Frosty, the interloper, never let him forget she was superior, though, and regularly served up her punishment for his transgression of living in her space.

RavenHawk finished high school and after a few uneasy months moved north to live with his grandmother. I think Smokey missed him early on, he'd spend time in the room Raven had called his own quite a bit.

More years passed, and we were a comfortable family. He was always happy when I sat down at my desk in the morning, or when we came home if we'd been out. I presumed he still had a number of years left, and guess it's been about 16 years since the orphan came home with me that first day.

Aways a healthy cat, last week we were surprised when Smokey started to walk a bit oddly, and then stopped eating. Each day his balance seemed worse, and he withdrew from his regular daily routine -- jumping up on my desk for treats, onto the bathroom sink for fresh water and spending lots of time at the food bowl. Early this week his balance was clearly disturbed, and he walked less and less. 

Yesterday, after a day of no water and no movement, as he simply seemed unable to walk at all, he was a shadow of his former self. He allowed me to hold him, and carry him about without complaint. In the evening he had a horrible seizure, and we knew the end was near.

I spent the last hour or so of his life on the floor sitting next to him, stroking him and talking with him. He seemed as peaceful as one could be who was so near death's door -- indeed, whether he knew the end was near or not we'll never know. Suddenly, he took some deep, shuddering breaths, and his feet twitched slightly as I scratched his head. Then, his side rose no more... the end had come, the last breath had been taken. I waited a few minutes to confirm the truth my eyes denied before I said something to my husband.

Many of us anthropomorphize our animals, assigning them human traits just because it is our understanding of feeling and emotion, and we think our pets have feelings and emotions as well. I like to think that Smokey was comforted in that last hour, and that he knew how much I, and Mikal, loved him, my "handsome boy," as I so affectionately called him. I wish Raven could have been there too, to say his goodbyes.

This morning he was sent on his next journey which began deep in our garden, nourished by the treats we buried with him to send him on his way. I was touched by my husband's suggestion that we give him food for the long journey to places unknown that he had started upon. We both were in tears, saying goodbye. 

My beliefs tell me Smokey and I will cross paths again, one day. I hope it is so. I know I'll look for signs of him in each fuzzy, fat grey cat whose path I cross. 

I miss you already, my handsome boy, and I love you. 

thoughts on Beltaine and spring

With May 1 just a few days away, the wheel has once again spun 'round to our favorite seasonal festival, Beltaine. For those unfamiliar, contemporary Pagan practice honors the early Celtic spring fertility festival which signifies the return of the growing and procreating season -- to the northern hemisphere, anyway -- at this time of year. 

As we have done for the last 10 years, we'll be off to celebrate the holiday at a long camping weekend with many other Pagan-folk from Florida and other environs. Florida Pagan Gathering is a four-day (five if you're a staff member, like myself) get-together of like-minded folks in the beautiful, natural setting of the Ocala National Forest in central Florida. As always, we'll pitch our tent, inflate the air mattress, set up our "ez-up" for shade, fill the coolers and crank up the cookstoves for the weekend. We'll attend some workshops, do some drumming and maybe join the nightly drum circle by the bonfire, listen to a Pagan band or two, and relax with friends old and new. We're certain to tip back more than just a few microbrews and bottles of mead, too. 

I love the sandhill cranes that live along the lake in the Ocala forest. Each morning, way too early to be sure, you can hear them screeching to each other as they prepare to take wing. They're huge birds, and watching them soar overhead is a beautiful sight to behold. Other denizens of the forest -- squirrels, butterflies, cardinals and many other feathered and furry friends -- will delight us with their antics as well. Unfortunately, with all this beauty comes a downside as we'll be eaten by mosquitos and on the lookout for ticks burrowing into our skin.

A favorite experiences has to be the one held under cover of darkness.  No, not _that_ experience! So far from the ambient light of the Florida coast we'll take time to gaze upward and be amazed at the vast number of stars we see. Living on the very urban south Florida coast, we almost forget how many stars dust the heavens with their soft light. 

Spring in south Florida tiptoes in and if you don't watch carefully you'll miss it. There are trees which shed their leaves to take on a new garment of green in April; flowering trees that don yellows, magentas and purples in honor of the season; vines which slowed their growth during the 'winter' send out new tendrils; birds sing out in search of a new mate and to mark their territories; and the butterflies busily flit from leaf to leaf of their favored plant as they leave an egg, or cluster of eggs, behind. 

The monarch butterflies have been particularly busy in our butterfly garden and our milkweed, the plant the monarch larva feed on, is decimated. Polydamus swallowtails have been chomping on the Dutchman's pipe and evidence of their feasting litters the ground below the vine. 

This is my favorite time of year, for many reasons. My husband and I met for the first time in person to attend a Beltaine festival, we handfasted and eventually tied the knot, legally, at Beltaine. That's one of the reasons we continue to go to the gatherings... it reminds us, each time, of the first time we met. For a few days at the beginning of May he is my Lord of the Forest and I his Lady of the Wild Things... fanciful romantics that we are. And too, the changes in nature mentioned above, while not as spectacular as the drastic changes in more northerly climes, reminds us that life is ever a cycle of birth, life, death and rebirth. The planet goes on that way... and so do our lives. 

May your Beltaine and spring be filled with beauty.

in a dither...

Courtesy of Google alerts, each day I have an opportunity to peruse new articles on the web related to witch, witches, Pagan, Pagans and an assortment of other similar words. While often there are some gems among the selections, many are about modern-day witch hunts, witch doctors, the musical "Wicked" and the like. 

One stood out from the crowd recently under the simple headline "Phillies speaks out in support of witchcraft and Wicca", not for the support of our beliefs by Libertarian Presidential candidate George Phillies but rather a comment from one who read the story: "And the wiccan thing. My parish (or county, for you guys) just passed an ordinance outlawing "Witchcraft." Frankly, this seemingly offhanded remark floored me -- a county government outlawing witchcraft in these days and times? 

Given the clause in the First Amendment about the government not making any laws with respect to establishment of religion, it seems clear that witchcraft, from the perspective of these lawmakers, is not a religious system. Indeed, many of those who wear the self-title "witch" are not religious practitioners. Yet, there are those of us who do include religious aspects in our practice, and it is this type of legislation we must be aware of. 

To condemn any group for practice of their beliefs, be they spiritual or more in the metaphysical realm, opens the door to further discriminatory action. It is important to keep an eye on actions of this nature, eroding the rights of some of our fellow citizens; indeed, it is exactly as citizens in the "land of the free" that we must be certain none of our rights are withdrawn.

Spring Tiptoes In...

In Florida, spring is a bit of a let-down. Sure, there are a couple of trees which shed leaves and starts sending out new buds and shoots. The tabubea tree opens lovely, brilliant yellow blooms. Birds sing more frequently, and can be seen gathering little bits for their nests as they fly hither and yon.

It's not the same as the appearance of the season in more northerly climes. No sunny, cheery daffodills raise their trumpets to the sun; no fragrance of hyacinth fills the air; no pussy willows, or crocus, or tulips. The snow doesn't disappear followed by a sudden awakening to Mother Nature's gown of brilliant green. 

But still, it is all a part of the circle of life. The birth of new life in the spring follows the death of autumn and hibernation of winter, as it always has and as it always will. 

With changes in the global climate, spring is being observed earlier each year. There are organizations tracking this now, and Mother Nature is donning her spring duds about ten days earlier, worldwide. This will affect species, some of which will move their habitat somewhat further north.  I suspect I'll harp on this subject often - the time for action is now.

put down the party hat and walk away...

Just like a flash, New Year's Eve came and went. As usual, we got together with friends to ring in the new and bid adieu to the old. It was a lovely south Florida night - temperatures in the low 70s, just about cool enough for a small fire in the fire pit on our friend's patio.

Fireworks supplied aural and visual entertainment throughout the evening, as neighbors exploded bottle rockets, small arial bursts and firecrackers, among other noise-making items. After eating from the "we always put out too much food" buffet, we sat and chatted as the clock ticked away the minutes 'til the New Year's baby arrived. At the appropriate hour I offered blessings of the Gregorian calendar year to all in attendance. We've got to follow it, as its the way the world turns, but I'd really rather go to a lunar based system, it makes more sense for me.

Resolutions? I've never been terribly good at sticking to those. There are some things I want to do... develop a more focused spiritual practice on a regular basis, keep my fingers on my crafts projects, and -- perhaps -- begin work on a photography project that popped into my head a few days ago. Of course work will take up much of my time as it always does -- I tend to be a workaholic. I'm going to do my best, though, to not spend as much time at the keyboard. 'Tis making me a dull gal, methinks.

So, with thoughts of the Gregorian year ahead, I offer all praise to Artemis, Lady of the Wild Things and Protectress of Women and the Young Ones. May her arrows fly true when necessary, and may she shelter those who need it from the storms of life. I hope to walk in your wild lands more often in the 363 days ahead.

silent night...

On Saturday I'll celebrate the Winter Solstice with a group of very close friends. After a year of waiting, the mead we added our magic to last Yule will be unveiled! A great time will be had by all, no doubt.

But... (and you knew there had to be a but, didn't you?) at this time of year, as I have for the last 20, I find myself missing the quiet that is the hush of freshly fallen snow and the cold crisp air that is a northern winter. There was something special about celebrating the return of the light then. 

Some of my favorite winter memories are stringing lights on the evergreens that were in front of the house with my dad (and with that, Dad, I still miss you but know you're out there, somewhere)... building snowpeople... building snow forts... cross-country skiing when I got older. There was a peacefulness, a calm. 

As I've said said many times, nature is my temple. I feel best when outdoors -- in my tiny butterfly garden, in a park, in the Everglades. I miss peace and quiet, with the only sounds those of nature. Right now I'd be really glad for a few hours in a snowy wood, watching cardinals, bluejays and other woodland creatures carry on their day. 

Tis the season...

... for the annual "who does the holiday belong to" hubbub to begin. 

Down the road, in white and gold lights, Calvary Chapel of Fort Lauderdale proclaims "Jesus is the Reason for the Season!" Somewhere, Bill O'Reilly is pitching a fit at those who would rather call the events happening in December the "holidays". 

While Christ does rightfully belong in the word Christmas, is Christmas, and the birth of Christ, really the reason for the season?

More than enough evidence has been presented to indicate Jesus was not born somewhere even remotely near December 25th, in fact the celebration of his natal day was moved to that time period during the 4th century CE, when Christianity was made the official religion of Rome. It is generally presumed Jesus was born in the spring. 

Even earlier, the Egyptians celebrated the god Osiris, who died and was reborn, the time of the Winter Solstice. The Greeks celebrated the "Festival of Wild Women" around Dionysus, who was murdered and reborn during the same period of time. In Rome the Saturnalia was celebrated. 

The Winter Solstice, or return of the sun, began pre-religion, as early man observed the cycles of the sun. It is said that aboriginal people were able to notice a slight elevation in the sun's path within days of that time when the sun sunk to its lowest point on the horizon, and it is believed people soon began to celebrate the sun's return, or rebirth, around the solstice, as they knew that soon the warmth would return and they would be able to cultivate crops. 

On December 21st, or thereabouts, I'll be celebrating the return of the sun, in my mind the real reason for the season.