Bleeding Love: LGBT Adversity Near and Far

I'm pissed off.

Correction:  I’m fucking pissed off.

As many of you are aware the Russian government is severely anti-LGBT. This has led to protests and riots throughout the country. In the course of such protests many LGBT people and allies have suffered physical and mental harm. This is a human rights issue and has reached audiences around the world. I know no country/nation-state is perfect in any regards but it sickens me to think an event such as The Olympics (which is meant to bring the countries of the world together) is being held in a place that is actively participating in the destruction of my LGBT brothers and sisters.

Recently Human Rights Watch has released a video (watch with caution please) that showcases many acts of violence which have happened in recent months in Russia to LGBT people. In it we are shown homosexual men who have been abducted, humiliation, tortured, raped, and (presumably) murdered. These acts were recorded by the perpetrators and posted on sites such as YouTube.

I hurts me deeply to watch this video where my brothers were treated with such disrespect and subjected to acts of violence such as, but not limited to: verbal assaults, abduction, humiliation via stripping and cohesion, and in one case, forced to rape himself with a glass bottle. The images were unforgettable, disturbing and distressing.

I am thankful I have the privilege of living in a country where being a homosexual does not lead to such treatment. Or does it…

Even as of a few days ago a student at Centennial High School in Circle Pines, Minnesota came out as gay on Facebook. The next day he received several death threats. What the fuck is wrong with people. Sure, in the USA we can come out of the closest and have bars and pride-parades and get married and have kids and lead normal lives but to receive death threats is inexcusable.

I am of two minds and they are equal. Part of me wants to find all people who commit acts of violence, physical or otherwise, a give to them what they have dished out. What kind of mind sends death threats? What kind of person forces someone to rape themselves with a glass bottle? Who is the god-damned coward to send anonymous messages of hate via social networking sites? It’s not just YouTubers or celebrities who are being threated. It’s kids in high-school who have Tumblrs, as in a friend of mine who started receiving hate mail when her Tumblr was getting popular… and she’s just a teen-age woman (and yet that too is other issue).

Why do people send hate mail? Do they believe it will change anything? Death threats are a form of domestic terrorism and is a punishable, in certain cases, as in the one mentioned above, as a hate crime. Why do we do this to each other? I just don’t understand the reasoning behind it. This upsets me and makes me angry to the point of wanting to harm those who harm others. I’m simply being honest here.

And that’s where the other side of me steps in. We can’t fight fire with fire. Violence only begets more violence. I can only affect those around me by being kind and loving and accepting of others. And yet I cannot be accepting of a lifestyle that berates and degrades others. I cannot support an ideology that sees others as sinful for loving who they love, who express their gender in whatever fashion they see fits them.

How do I show love to the person who wishes I kill myself?
How do I show compassion towards those who want nothing but my suffering?
What do I do with anger inside of me that wants to be unleashed in very harmful and destructive ways?

How do I heal hearts (the ones that are broken and the ones that do the breaking).

My own heart goes out to everyone who has faced adversity. My soul has cried last night for my brothers and sisters all over the world who stare death in the face every day… simply by being who they are, loving who they do, grasping at empowerment/self-expression/self-actualization.  My body wants to react, to protect, to exact vengeance in the name of the slain.

How do I honor these opposing and powerful desires for vengeance and peace?

Ultimately all I feel I can do right now is draw attention to the problem and illuminate (to bare light upon) the situation.

Pray for those in need. Support your children, your friends and family, your coworkers by accepting them and loving them and asking them how they are feeling? Tell them you love them. Tell them it will get better. Show to those still in the closet the world isn’t full of haters and rapists and cowards. My smallest wish there was that was more I could do to stop these atrocities.

Hello Again

I know it has been many months since I've posted on here but life has been expectantly busy and I have not found time, nor made time, to write fiction or blog posts. So why am I writing today. Long story short, a tutoring student of mine came up to me yesterday and asked if I would be interested in reading the story he wrote over the summer. I haven't read it yet but I promised I would give him some feedback by Tuesday.

It was honoring and humbling to be asked to look at his work. He could be the next writer big writer and I could say "I knew him when". I am playing a part in his life as a teacher and a writer and he is teaching me in ways I don't even know yet.

This sparked some inspiration within me and in the time time between reading the 3rd Act of Hamlet and having class in the afternoon I decided I would work on the short story I finished but had not yet edited way back in July. I'm still working my way through the 3000 words of it but really liked some of what I had written. For those who have never read any of my works I would like to give you the opportunity to read the following paragraph.

"She has made a list of liquors and their subsequent consumers. For thieves she serves a finger worth of thin orange scented whiskey. For runaways, stowaways, and the abandoned it is vodka spiced with cloves and catnip. Adulterers receive tannic wine to stain there sin-soaked lips purple as the kings crowns. To pimps she gives a dry gin that tastes of pine and cardamom and something like liquorish rolled in rosewater.  Malaria will not suffer the likes of murderers in her establishment but the hospitality-tradition decrees she is to serve all those who can pay. Therefore, those who have taken a life are poured a glass of her special distillation. Beneath the ritually clean counter is a crystalline vat and into it she has placed datura seeds and aconite leaves, mandrake roots and hemlock stocks, oily keys made of mercury and moonstones, and henbane flowers and nightshade berries black as the streets of Tantrum. These and other organic terrors are covered in a grain alcohol and stirred daily. Down into their hollow eyes Malaria glares and strains out a portion of the glowing green liquid; it shines in the din and the dust of her bar bright as life itself. She is an executioner; unveiled and unafraid of judgment day.  Before long these killers of children and wives and the unfortunate bystander keel over; the bitter liquid burning through them like a knife, like a bullet, like a harp string oscillating its final mournful note. "

Yes it is long and rambling but I hope you found the imagery pleasant.  If inspiration still moves within me after class I will go through and edit again and hopefully send it out to a beta-reader today!*

Also I recorded this paragraph and will up-load it to sound-cloud for your listening pleasure.. I've had experience with soundcloud before and sometimes I get it work and sometimes I can not! Hopefully this time it will all run smoothly. Keep an eye out for this and other recordings.**

*If you would like to be a beta-reader of mine. Please send me an e-mail to cjgrabuski@gmail.com and I can tell you what I'm looking for in beta-reader.
** If you have a specific story of mine you would like narrated let me know and I'll record and post it as well.

Radical: A Returning to the Root

Whenever a tragic event transpires because of an individual’s actions such as the recent Boston Marathon bombing or the terrorist attracts of September 11th 2001 or even a protest held by the Westboro Baptist Church, we tend to talk of these people/groups as radical. We also label them as extremists. Which one is it? Are all radicals extremists as well? Now these two words are different and yet we use them as if they were interchangeable and I’m not too certain they can be used so fluidly. I want to examine these words and use them in right and appropriate ways.* 

The word radical comes from the Latin radix meaning root. This means that when something is radical it is relating to the root or base. Roots are important. They dig deep, the spread into the dark and find things which have been lost. They discover new areas. They also provide nourishment to the rest of the plant.

I have studied many so-called radical groups as a part of my undergrad education. Generally radical groups, or more commonly known as separatist groups, split off from the main-stream because they feel a calling to go deeper (notice I didn’t use extreme though I grammatically could have). Political radicals can be seen all over the spectrum. When Charlotte Bunch and other separatist feminist of the early 1970’s started The Furies Collective, they went in search of political refuge, acceptance, the idea of woman, what it means to be a lesbian just to name a few. They dug deep into the ideas of what it meant to be a woman, where the political process of America was headed, and how to change the culture around them. Marilyn Frye, theorist and lesbian feminist philosopher, says that “A separatist practices separation consciously, systematically, and probably more generally than the others, and advocates thorough and “broadspectrum” separation as part of the conscious strategy of liberation”. In short, she sees a separatist, and I would correlate this with a radical practice, as the willful exorcise of oneself from a community in order to liberate, or free, the self. (Frye) They needed to separate themselves from the over-culture in order to really get into the heart of their experiences as women, as lesbians, and as members of democratic society.

When religious groups becomes radical they are often seeking a more interpersonal experience with the divine as their tradition sees it. This looks different depending on the religion, the tradition, and the power structure of that group. Radical Christians dive deep into the social well-being of their community bolstered by the exemplary life of Jesus. (Fisher 219) Nuns, monks, and hermits of all the worlds’ traditions are radical in that they want to feel their idea of the divine so much that the outside world must be left behind. In terms spiritual anatomy the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Chakras slow down so the heart (4th), mind (5th), and crown (6th an 7th) may be fully open to the experience/imminence of the divine.(Myss) Siddhartha (Buddha) sat under a tree, Jesus went to the garden, Muhammad went to the mountain, Inanna left heaven and earth and went into the underworld where everything she had was taken from her.

And here is the other half of what it means to be a Radical. They must bring back what they learned and experienced to the community. I don’t know if it is the radical’s journey to stay radical forever or if there is a katabatic (to descend and return) cycle. Roots bring nutrition to the rest of the plant; same can be said for a radical person. Once the knowledge, experience, wisdom is found, it is the job of the Radical inform the community. Now wither or not the person with whom the Radical is in contact with is receptive of their message is not the point. The point is there is new wisdom to disperse. There are truths to be absorbed. The wisdom gets transported into the world and watered-down and altered which can disappoint/infuriate a radical. Thus, when faced with difficult and trying times, we humans and turn towards violent and iritic behaviors. I believe that is not the job of anyone, especially a radical, to use violent or corrosive force to disseminate their message. Not only does this give the whole community of which the radical is a part of a bad name but it negatively impacts the community in which we all live.

I hope I have opened your eyes to the idea that we use the label of radical far too often to describe people who act soul in destructive ways. I would say the amount of radicals who commit the hanus acts we hear about in the news is significantly less than we think. After examining the word radical and the whole would actually portray its characteristic, perhaps it is extremists, those who are on the limits of their community, who are the perpetrators of these great crimes. Maybe after reading this, and examining the groups you are a part of, you will find yourself a radical. What is calling you to dig deeper? What is calling you away from the over-culture and towards a more intense study? What lessons have you learned from being so close to a topic it calls in to question everything you’ve known to be true? What called you and you responded with such a fervent yes, every shred of rationality said to go forth? What lessons have you learned there in the deep?

NEXT WEEK: Extremist

*When was examine the words we are choosing to say we slow down and use a more prudent and judicious speech. This means we describe the word more accurately, view it more sharply, and are able to create stronger bonds i.e. our relationship to ourselves and to each other. Example: How do you describe yourself? What is the narrative you are saying about yourself? What do you so casually say you hate/like/want/love and how is that constructing how you view yourself/your actions? How do you label the world (other people, places, and events) and how does that help/hinder the way in which we move forward?

Bibliography

Fisher, Mary Pat. "Women in Christianity." Women in Religion. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Education, 2007. 188-233. Print.

Frye, Marilyn. "Some Reflections on Separatism and Power." Feminist Theory: A Reader. Ed. Wendy K. Kolmar and Frances Bartkowski. 3rd ed. New York: McGraw-Hill, 2010. 275-81. Print.

Myss, Caroline. The Language of Archetypes: Discover the Forces That Shape Your Destiny. Boulder, CO: Sounds True, 2006. Audio.

Writing and the Equinox

Merry Equinox,

So I haven’t posted in a while and that’s because I have been less than inspired. That is not to say I haven’t been creative. I have bread proofing in the oven as I write this. Yesterday I made some naan bread and the day before that I made a Galette des Rois which is this wonderful almond pastry thing. I even made the pastry myself using a pie crust recipe. It was the best pie crust I’ve ever made. Thanks Jaclyn Weber of Red Goose Gardens.

There is something inside of me right now that really wants to create. I want to bake and garden and get back outside and start the growing season again. I’m so happy the sun is out longer every day. I would didn’t say I get SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) but my energy levels truly do decrease in the winter time. Even though we’re getting these little snow storms the sunlight and the increased temperatures do lift my spirits and I’m getting antsy. I’m starting seeds for tomatoes and peppers and broccoli and a bunch of herbs really soon (I just need to find my grow light).

Even though the tender fires of creation are moving in me, I do not have the divine spark of inspiration. I have many ideas and stories about which to write about but when I sit down to write out my thoughts or try to outline/construct a story nothing sounds quite right to me. Even writing this little blog post is difficult. I’m not exactly sure how to court the muses. When I think about the times when I’ve had really great ideas it is often time when I’m not thinking about writing. I generally see something, like a wall of fog or a bee landing on my hand a bus stop and then words begin for form in my mind as if out of the ether. From there it’s about piggy-backing on the original idea and drawing on things like mythology, research, or whatever else needs to be incorporated into the work.

The piece I’m working on now was inspired by the poem She Had Some Horses by Joy Harjo and a story my mother told me about the time when she brought home our dog Jake. I’m having trouble finishing the story because I feel that it wants to go into crazy/bizarre places (like Venus)  nd I want to ground it in a no-less strange but definitely different territory. I’ve still a few days before I have to send it out and I believe I will have it done by then (wish me luck though). And for those who subscribe to The LunacyProject I promise Greek Mythology is nowhere in sight.

Oh and did I mention the story I worked on last November (the one about Polish Mythology/Folklore) has been nudging its way back into my life. Not that I’ve been working on it but I can hear it calling to me from the recesses of my hard-drive. Even though I’m hearing these callings and am feeling pulled towards various writing endeavors I can’t get over the feeling that everything I put down on paper sounds like shit. Sorry for the language but that’s how I feel. I guess for the time I just have to let it be what it is, continue to work on it and hopefully, with some skill and some luck, something beautiful will emerge.

So where can the equinox help me. Equinox means equal night. Today we are experiencing 12 hours of light and 12 hours of darkness. This is a great time to breathe deep and feel connected with stillness, the mindfulness, and be in balance with our world. Because this is the spring time we need to move forward on the exhale. Breathe deep the power of balance on this day. Feel it aligning you with heaven and earth. All your parts fitting in place. Now breathe out momentum and growth. This isn’t the summer time so there is no reason to bolt out of the starting gate like a race horse. There will be time again for that kind of intense movements. For now move with this season. Stretch towards the strengthen sun; reach for the summer stars. Let the fires of the warming earth and sun fuel your work and your beautiful creations.

Breath in deep my friends, Spring is here!

Hansel and Gretel Review

If you’re looking for nothing more than a bit of entertainment and don’t mind spending ten dollars on a movie ticket, then by all means go and see Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters. If not, then wait for the DVD. Either way it will be an hour and forty minutes of fun but not excitement. The plot and dialog are predictable. The setting is the standard 21^stinterpretation of midlevel Europe. The same can be said for the costumes. In truth not every woman walked around in a bodice and had heaving cleavage and a full set of pearly white teeth. This was very much a fairy-tale world; more fantasy than magical realism.

The acting was fair. I wouldn’t say that Jeremy Renner (The Avengers) was an amazing actor but he sure is sexy. There was a great opportunity to see some of those rippling muscles at one point in the film but instead we get a good shot of Ingrid Bolsø Berdal’s backside and breasts. This is a wonderful example of how Hollywood is just fine with showing female sexuality but heaven forbid the male is seen as anything but pure machismo and a killing-machine. That’s not to say we need to hyper-sexualize everything. I think the American culture is far too obsessed with compartmentalizing and cutting everything into objectifiable pieces, especially in regards to women/the feminine. American culture objectifies women all the time but when it comes to men, we have a much harder time swallowing the idea that man can be seen as a sexual object.

Now on to what the pagan community is really good at: seeing a witch in the main-stream and crying intolerance.  Yes, the vast number of magic-users/witches in movies are cast as the villain. They eat children or burn down towns or turn people into frogs. This comes from the Judeo-Christian tradition that sees magic and witchcraft as evil. American’s live in a changing culture based around that same Judeo-Christian puritanical ideology. Therefore witches will be the villains just as vampires and werewolves once were the monsters that were sought out and slain. Hollywood loves to take the witch and make it into the bad guy. Simple fact.

I’m not going to yell at the creators of Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters. The original story is about a pair of children who almost get eaten by a witch. Of course their adult-selves would become witch hunters, especially if that’s what witches do (eat children and burn down towns)in this particular fantasy world. Fairytales are not real. YES we can learn from them. I treat folktales as scripture and as such I see characters and ideas as universal metaphors. I could deconstruct the tale of Hansel and Gretel and the resent film adaption into bits and pieces and come up with something about how our obsession with youth and acting like children is going to be the end of our civilization and the only way to save ourselves is to accept the past for what it is, forgive our parents for our terrible childhoods and realize our true paths/selves but that might be giving this film to much credit. To claim that Hollywood is calling the modern pagan religions and those who identify as witches as nothing but evil hell-spawn who deserve to executed —burning-times style— is simply not the case.

Of course modern witches i.e. REAL WITCHES do not fly through the air or puck the eyes out of newts for potions. We go to work, buy groceries from the store and farmers market; we put our pants on one leg at a time. That being said, it would be nice, if not fun, to see witches normalized or at least not demonized in film. And it is. The best example of this is Practical Magic (1998). If you’re thinking what about The Craft (1996), well I’m still not sure how I feel about that one. Another is the upcoming movie adaption of Starhawk’s The Fifth Sacred Thing. I cannot wait for this to come to the big screen. It will be a few years. It is in the works but because they are creating an ecologically sustainable praxis for the film-industry (of course Starhawk would do that… and that’s why I love her) plus creating sets for the movie that can be used by the city of San Francisco post-production it will be a few years before it will be coming to a screen near you. You can support the

project here.

I would be great if an old fairy tale was adapted to have the witch/magic user not a villain. Even in Hansel and Gretel there were white-witches (though she played the martyr more than she was the mage/holy woman). It would be great if men were portrayed as witches (I know what you’re thinking and a warlock is not a male witch. The world warlock comes from the old English warloghe meaning “breaker of faith”; in other words… a liar). I would be sweet is a movie came out, fantasy or otherwise, that showcased modern witches. I’m not saying it’s needed but it wouldn’t be bad P.R. if it happened. 

It’s true the over-culture is not permeated with ideas of what it means to be a witch in the 21^st century. Most people don’t know what witches and pagans do for rituals. This isn’t the media’s fault.  Let us move on and realize witches in film do not do the things real witches do in the real world. If you talk to a doctor they will say the same thing about shows like House and Gray’s Anatomy. If a film comes out that shows modern witches, using modern rituals, citing modern pagan events, and has those characters doing evil things to good people, then we’ll have something to cry and complain about. Movies that take place in a clearly fictional world should not be used as an argument that modern pagan religions and witches in particular are being persecuted. 

Ida of Kildare

ĺda was a child, barely six years of age, when she was brought to the abbey of Kildare. When she arrived her stomach was as empty as her head. She wasn’t the only little girl there. Nuns herded groups of five or six into and out of buildings like the shepherds that herded the little black and white and brown sheep. She gave a fearful good-bye as her father deposited her into the hands of the sisters dressed in gray. She cried mightily for several days when she realized he would never would come back for her. Some nuns were kind and took compassion on her; finger combing her hair until she fell asleep. Some nuns were neither kind nor caring. They had seen this before and showed no mercy; little girl comes, cries, and carries on with her life. This was the way of things at monasteries and they believed Kildare should be no different.

With a bent head she learned to read and write with rest of the little girls. She took to the learning of Latin verse and prayer as a babe takes to the breast. Of all the girls there at Kildare, ĺda was the one who recited the rosary and the Lord ’s Prayer the best. Her vowels were strong and her consonants sharp.  By age nine she knew the linage of Christ, the number of popes in the Holy See, and even a little Greek she learned form a traveling Bard who had a little yellowing scroll bearing the names of prophets she had never heard of before.

Ĺda, head always bowed as in prayer or titled toward an illuminated manuscript. She did not find outside world beautiful nor pleasant as ink on velum. The pastures of sheep terrified her as the reciting of rosaries did not. She said their eyes were slant wise and would twist her mind in evil and unwanted ways. The forest too was filled with terrors only Satin himself could have vomited into the world. Treacherous mushrooms and trees branched out in twisted and obscene angles only to reach out to devour wandering travelers whole. The worst of the hillsides wonders were the little folk. The nuns whispered in their tiny ears that they were demons who donned unholy tattoos and danced around fires every night, singing prayers to their earthly gods. They instructed all students to stay within the nunnery grounds; that the lights in the hills would steel their very souls. Ĺda, who trembled like twigs in the wind at the mention of anything that might come from within the dark, green wood consumed every word of the nuns folktales. 

Mother Lìadan scolded them. She called them fools. She heard their non-sense as she prayed in the little chapel or sat beside the holy well of St. Brigid. She was old, far older than any of the other nuns clothed in brown or gray. Though her hands were roped and her face withered as February apples she still managed to bring in water from the well, tend the herbs, and lift herself after kneeling for many hours without the aid of others. She has seen the faire folk and knew they are neither demons nor evil spirits sent by Satin to spread sin across the green and fair Ireland.

“Those folk are harmless and know the joys of life as you or I never will,” she said with spite. She looked at Sister Marie and Sister Dorianne squarely under her wrinkled brow. “They come to drink from the well just as we do. This is a blessed place. All who come before God, by whatever name they call him, are slacked of thirst here and should be welcomed with open arms.”

With that she says no more but bitterly sips her thin mutton broth. The cross of St. Brigid swung back and forth, like a pendulum. Its reed-woven form kept time in the rarefied air and no one spoke for the rest of the lunch hour. She knew what they said about her in the secrecy of cloister or garden wall. They said she was actually a Druid. They said she called their patron saint by her old name. They said she knows how to make poisons from herbs. The worst she ever heard was that she was in league with the devil himself. 

*** 

Hope you enjoyed this little piece of fiction. I know it sounds a little dogma heavy but it gets far more interesting. I'm nearly done with the first draft. This will be the February Lunacy Project. If you like it then share this post with your friends. If you have $5.00 and want the whole thing, sign up for this month over at my website. I'm so happy to have inspiration once again!  

Imbolc and Brigid

I thought I would talk about the holiday that is today. Now you might be asking you’re self what is there to be celebrating here on February 2nd. Good question actually. Like most holidays, take a look outside and see what’s going on and you’ll have a general idea of what would be honored on that day. Thanksgiving is the harvest, Halloween we honor our ancestors. Christmas… well that’s a whole book’s worth of topics. Like all winter holidays, this one honors the returning of the sun.

For those that don’t know, Imbolc was celebrated by the ancient Celts as the time between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. Imbolc can be translated from the Old Irish I mbolg meaning “in the belly”. This refers to the time when ewes were pregnant. It can also be translated from oimelc meaning “ewe’s milk”.  The combination of the fertility/gestation, nourishment, and the returning of light makes Imbolc a very special time.

Okay, so I’m going to assume you’re thinking that an ancient pagan holiday has nothing to do with me? Ah but that’s where we can thank Christianity for not completely eradicating all traces of early earth-based traditions.  When the Roman Catholics invaded the British Isles and Ireland the celebration of Candlemas is celebrated on February 2nd and there for the two was merged. Candlemas is also called the Purification of the Blessed Virgin. Seeing how I’m not Catholic, nor have I been, I’m not exactly sure what this purpose of this holiday is but if I might take a stab in the dark I think it might have to with Mary, Mother of Jesus, and honoring her in some way.

Now back to the Celts. The Goddess Brigid (pronounced BREED) was honored on this day. She was the goddess of healing, poetry, and smithcraft (metallurgy). Her name translated means “exhaled one”. She is also said to protect cattle (and other livestock) and bring the spring. Remind you of anything; groundhogs day perhaps? Of course there will be six more weeks of winter. Brigid carries the sacred flame. This is both the heat from the hearth fire and the fire of inspiration. It is the fire of divinity, the fire of the holy spirit in Christianity. This fire brings us hope and light to our cold and winter-weary bones. Six more weeks till the Spring Equinox and the warming of the earth.

So here we have Imbolc and Candlemas, Brigid and the Virgin Mary. These things correlate so well do they not? Brigid the goddess was made a saint. She served the same purposes as a saint as she did a pagan goddess. St. Brigid of Kildare is very controversial for the documentation of her birth and her death appear in several places but do not match up.  It is also very striking that the Celts would have a goddess who just happened to match up perfectly with the associations of this saint.

Where does this leave us? Here in the Midwest we are experiencing the coldest weather we’ve had since… well, last winter I would suppose. Last winter was very warm and that makes these temperatures that hover just above zero during the day and that dive well into the negative thirty’s at night all the more intense. We can light candles on this day, or a fire in the hearth if we are so privileged to have such things, and feel the fires heavenly warmth. We can look at the rising sun and see how far we’ve progressed with the intentions and goals we set at solstice or at New Year’s. Have we tended those goals? Have you given up on them? In reflection do you find the soil has gone fallow? What do you need to nourish to bring life back to your goals? Are you tending that inner fire? What are you feeding that fire and is it proving to be good fuel or do you need to dig deeper, find the better wood, make the hard choices and sacrifice something in order for your goals to be nourished?

In honor of Brigid, I will be posting a short story on the blog next week relating to this fire festival. 

Check back in the middle of next week for that. What creative endeavor do you do? What do you create? What does that fire feel like?