Author: dpaxson

I’m signed up for a number of liberal e-mail lists that periodically ask me to send messages to senators and the like regarding whatever this week’s worthy cause may be.

The latest, from Move-on, points out that during the last year, reporters have asked the presidential candidates 2,679 questions. The number asked about global warming was the same as the number asked about UFOs.

Since I happen to agree that Global Warming is the great crisis of our time, I signed their petition to encourage reporters to ask about this question. Anyone else who would like to do so can find it at:

http://pol.moveon.org/climatequestions/?r_by=11906-2344697-49Nehl&rc=confemail

IMO, it doesn’t matter if we get free health care, out of Iraq, or the rest of it, if our planet becomes unliveable. The US is not the only source of pollution, but it’s the country we’re responsible for. To organize the US to make real changes will take an effort something like fighting the Great Depression. Which of the front runners has that much dedication and charisma? Which one cares?

A friend on an e-list I’m on wanted to know about the Greyhaven New Year’s Eve Ball, and I thought you all might appreciate it too. Other members of my family who are also on LJ are welcome to add their perspectives….

The Annual New Year’s Eve Ball at Greyhaven is partly the fault of the house itself. How we got it is kind of a story, which you are all now going to hear because it’s an excuse to delay bringing up the file for SWORD OF AVALON and actually work.

Way back in the late sixties, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was young, I fell in love with a guy (he writes as Jon DeCles) who had read too much Heinlein and was in a blood-brotherhood relationship with several others. We all ended up starting the SCA together, and when we got married, one of the others, Paul Edwin Zimmer, also got married and we all set up house together with Paul’s (and Marion Zimmer Bradley’s) mother.

When the landlady wanted the house we were renting back, we started looking for a new place that would be big enough for us, our children, and the other people who always seemed to end up living with us. My sister-in-law found this big house that was something of a fixer-upper, going in an estate sale– for $48,000. This was in 1971, before real estate prices started soaring, but even then, for a 15 room house, a bargain.

“But Tracy,” I said, “to buy a house you have to have money…” At that time she and I were both working at low income jobs while Jon and Paul tried to sell their writing. However as soon as the word got out, people started volunteering to loan us money for the down payment, and a couple who were charter members of the Berkeley Coop recommended us to them for a mortgage. When someone tried to outbid us by by-passing the real estate agent, he mortgaged his own house to give us a second mortgage to up the bid.

So we really got it through a series of miracles, and it has since become clear that the gods wanted us to have a place where we could hold large rituals for them (the living room is about 30′ by 15’and easily holds a circle of 40). The next year, we found ourselves without an invitation to a New Year’s Eve party, and decided to give one ourselves.

Since then, many things have changed. Mom and Paul have died and Tracy moved out. My husband lives in Clear Lake, though we are still lovingly married, and the third generation at Greyhaven is now represented by my grandchildren, who live here with my son and his wife. But we always seem to have 8-10 people living here, connected in various ways.

And we still hold the New Year’s Eve ball. It’s a great opportunity to muck out the entire downstairs. Fortunately we usually get some house guests and other volunteers to help. We move all the furniture out of the living room, wax the floor, wash the crystal drops on the chandeliers and invite everybody we know. We have tape recordings for six hours of waltzes, and a surprising number of people do dance, especially in years when Jon is working Dickens Faire and can recruit from Fezziwig’s. Over a hundred people come and go during the evening, dressed in everything from full Victorian drag to jeans. My husband wears a tuxedo. This year I wore a boned bodice and full skirt in black and silver with a cobwebby shawl knitted by my friend Lorrie. People dance, munch, and talk; children of various ages run past.

Just before midnight, we put on the Cinderella waltz (Prokofiev) which includes the bell chiming midnight, and count down the seconds. At this point, everyone is on the dance floor, holding onto their beloved, in couples or trios or more, sometimes with children or dogs in arms. When the moment has come, the music changes to the Carousel waltz and the champagne and Martinelli’s come out and are passed from hand to hand. At this point we also put out a big ham.

It is a very liminal moment, an affirmation that our community has made it through another year and we will survive the next one. And though we send out invitations, so many people know about it, we’d probably have to take out an ad in the Oakland Tribune to stop the party.

BTW–any of my LJ friends who don’t already join us are hereby invited for next year…

My mother and father both came from large families, but I was an only child. I used to envy the big families I read about. Then I had the fortune to marry up with three other people who were also effectively only children and wanted community. Which is how I ended up cooking for 23 people this Christmas. At least we didn’t try to sit them all down at one table as we do at Thanksgiving.

And at least it was intentional community, not the kind of relatives you endure from duty rather than love. I actually *like* all the people who were here. The Greyhaven Family Tree often leaves people blinking in confusion. When drawing a sociogram, we’ve had to invent some symbols to represent the connections. Blood relations are the simple part– my autistic younger son, and my older son Ian and his wife and their three children. Beyond that, it gets more complicated. There’s my husband Don, and his adopted son Jon and his wife and their lover and the two children. And my daughter-in-law’s parents. There’s my sister-in-law, and then the lady who replaced her as Paul’s Significant Other when she left, and their daughter.There’s Marion Zimmer Bradley’s son David, who qualifies as a nephew by marriage, sort of. There’s the lady who used to live with him, who now lives with Don Simpson and Kitty Crow, who was a part of our household in the SCA, and Julie, an old friend from the Faire who used to live with us and now lives downstairs from David. Kitty’s daughter (Sabre), who is my grandson’s godmother, came by later, and so did the other two couples who have been living in our basement off and on. The house really seems to like being filled with happy people.

I had this lovely cooking schedule posted, printed in red and green. Only the 21 lb. turkey somehow cooked faster than expected, and we had to scurry (thank you Tracy and Kitty) to step up the schedule for the mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables, Brussels sprouts, and salad. It turned out pretty well– I always depend on inspiration for the stuffing, so I can’t post the recipe. And Chris brought bread and ice cream and my in-laws brought pie. But between all the cleaning and washing up beforehand, and during, and then after, by the time dinner was on, being the gracious hostess was a fantasy. All I wanted to do was sit down. There have been years when I was actually able to do a little Yuletide meditation during the holidays. But not this one.

I have dreams of running away from it all, but I suppose it’s like childbirth. Let a year go by and you forget the pain.

And gosh, there’s a whole week to recover between X-mas and the New Year’s Eve ball. But at least for that one we will only be cleaning (although the cleaning is pretty Herculian, involving moving all the furniture from the living room and waxing the floor), with minimal cooking. If you like to dance, and are in my area, and didn’t already see the invitation on one of the lists, consider yourselves invited too.

I shouldn’t complain. Be careful what you ask for– you may get it. And I always wanted a big family.

There’s been a lot of discussion in the media about whether the new film of Pullman’s THE GOLDEN COMPASS is anti-Christian. What no one seems to have mentioned yet is how heathen it feels.

Some Christian groups are up in arms because the villains in the piece belong to the hierarchy of the “Magisterium”. In the film their faith is not mentioned, although the book makes clear that this is a rather odd evolutionary development of the Catholic Church. But really, the Catholics shouldn’t be upset, as in Pullman’s version, the Church did away with the Pope some time ago. The Protestants shouldn’t be upset, as this kind of oppressive hierarchy is exactly what that good German revolutionary Martin Luther was fighting. In fact no Christian who truly follows the guy who got a reputation as a rabble-rouser for criticizing the Pharisees should have any problem with this film at all.

Nor do I think those who objected to the deletion of religious elements should complain. Any film that attempts to convey an entire novel has to simplify and select. In my opinion, this version did a pretty good job of retaining the essence of each episode, although, as usual in an adaptation, some of the complexity of character and plot development was lost. The deletion of all kinds of elements was pretty even-handed, and in any case, though we don’t get much detail, the moral and religious conflict is clear.

And there are many reasons why pagans in general and heathens in particular should like the film. For one thing, the basic conflict is between people who believe that some people have the right to impose their views on what’s best for humanity on the rest of us, and those who believe in the sanctity of free will.

Much of the story takes place in the far north. Heathens will particularly enjoy the Armored Bears (the Panzerbjörne in the book, whose original title was NORTHERN LIGHTS). Like vikings in white bear suits, they follow the old heathen virtues. The witches swoop through the air like valkyries. Even the daemons, external souls in animal form, bear a strong resemblance to the fetch as recorded in Scandinavian folklore.

THE GOLDEN COMPASS would be worth seeing for the cast and the spectacle alone. The technology for creating wholly believable landscapes, animals and other creatures has clearly arrived. Showing us new and exotic scenes is what cinema does best. If only the new BEOWULF had been filmed with this technology instead of World of Warcraft style CGI, it would have been a great film. COMPASS also has a world-class cast, including Nicole Kidman, Daniel Craig, Derek Jacobi and (briefly) Christopher Lee. Ian McKellen’s voice animates Iorek Byrnison the Bear.

All-hail the Panzerbjörne!

I don’t know about anyone else, but I have a series of gears, or programs, or some other metaphor for changing focus. When I am writing, I’m focused on that, and have to wrench myself back to consensus reality to go to meetings, run rituals, etc. This state has the advantage that I can ignore cobwebs, dust bunnies, and dirty dishes. Otherwise I would never get any writing done.

But when it is time to clean house for a party the situation is reversed. I see Everything, and suddenly cannot understand why the rest of my household is not eager to do something about the obvious mess too. And when I take on a Project, I become fixated and work until my body hurts too much and I have to stop.

This winter’s project was a long-delayed repainting of the living room. One reason we keep the walls white is because between children, crayons, and the sticky putty we use to put up the posters for the Charlie party, the walls get pockmarked and need to be repainted. White is at least easy to match. But then there’s the ceiling. Another regular problem is leaks in the deck overhead that cause discoloration and peeling. Last winter we were having actual leaks, and this summer I finally found a source for the gunk we paint on the deck to stop that. So I was finally free to tackle the ceiling. Now painting the ceiling is quite an operation. I don’t want to do it any more often than I have to. And the white ceiling was boring anyway.

So after spackling and sanding the current set of problems I painted the ceiling a color that I now realize is Frigga’s favorite blue. The theory is that as new discolorations appear, I will take a sponge or a spray can and apply clouds….

And of course the walls then looked dingy. So I have repainted them a pristine white. And the drapes and rug are at the cleaners. And now I am eyeing the rest of the house….

The theory was that I would do the edging and other people would do the middle, but except for some help from Evan (oldest grandson) on one wall, this didn’t happen. Partly because I realized that I’m really *good* at painting. I can paint a whole ceiling without splattering either myself or the floor. When I use a roller, the result is even. Apparently, based on past observation, this is not as easy as it looks. So I decided that I would rather do the work myself than clean up after others.

And it turns out that working with my head tipped back is actually good for the neck problems that result from hunching over a computer for hours on end.

Hmm. Maybe I could write a few chapters and paint a ceiling, and then a few more chapters, and… anyone need a ceiling painted?

Way back in 1969 (two years before we moved to Greyhaven), Thanksgiving was approaching, and I thought we needed something to unify our coalescing family and the people who happened to be living with us that year. We needed a Tradition…. so I wrote a little ritual in which, after some historical perspective, everyone says what they are thankful for this year, and then the youngest child we can persuade to cooperate asks why we are making offerings, and the oldest explains, as others bring up salt and water, milk and honey, bread and wine, and squash and corn, all of which will later be part of the feast. We have done it every year since then, so it really is a tradition by now.

This year, counting the children, we had 24 around the fire, family by blood or marriage or adoption, friends who are temporary members of the household, and other members of our community (Of course, nine of them are currently living in the house, so we had a head start). Not to mention the four dogs, who kept hoping I would drop the turkey. The giving of thanks took awhile. I was grateful to have the reshingling and painting of the south wall done at last, and to have a new book contract, and for the support of those who have liked the work I’ve done in the past, and of course for my family.

Feeding this horde required a 22 lb. turkey (store-bought, as the wild turkeys that have been haunting our neighborhood seem to have disappeared). But my oven really roasts well, and this year’s ad hoc stuffing came out quite tasty. Fortunately others dealt with most of the rest of the feast. Lwood baked a bunch of pies as well as corn and squash. Bearmum put together an excellent gravy. We also had green beans, about 15 lbs of mashed potatoes, two kinds of salad and home made bread. We set up the long tables in the living room and after ransacking the house, found enough chairs to seat everyone. This is the only holiday for which we do a sit-down dinner, but, you know, tradition…

The real challenge is always figuring out how to deal with the left-overs, though there’s not much turkey this time. And of course, the dishes. After being on my feet most of the day my back hurts, but there’s a great satisfaction in knowing we brought it off yet again.

Blessings to you all!

A number of years ago, Margaret and Kristoph of the music group Broceliande got a bunch of us together to make a tape of songs from the first three Westria books (THE WANDERSONG). Last year, they asked if I wanted to do one of the songs from the four Jewel books as well. This afternoon we had a session so that I could listen to the current form of the songs they are singing for the CD, and record some myself.

We had started by having me tape the songs, so they knew where to start, followed by a frustrating session in which I tried to explain which chords I wanted. I am not accustomed to not having the vocabulary to explain exactly what I mean (at least in English), but I have never learned the names of the chords. I just know what they ought to sound like. But we did manage to communicate.

I had initially been reluctant to sing on this CD at all, since my voice had developed an annoying break in the middle register. Previously, I had taken the dependability of my voice for granted, and it was a shock to lose it, but I assumed it was an unavoidable effect of aging. But just lately I’ve noticed an improvement. Maybe those problems were a result of the body’s rearrangements after menopause, or maybe I’ve been working with Odin too long. Whatever the reason, I now seem to have a very nice tenor (also it helps that they have a very good microphone).

So I have a voice again, and will sing three of the songs. We will be getting a small chorus together for some of the others. Margaret’s lyric soprano is exquisite on some of my early songs that I could scarcely manage 20 years ago (I have an unfortunate tendency to write music with a rather challenging vocal range), and Kristoph’s version of “Bird of my Heart” will make you cry. When they finish polishing everything up, this CD is going to be Real Music, even better than the first one.

This is worth making a real effort to present well, and figure out some way to market. An outfit called Shortstacks does limited runs of CDs, and their website gives templates for the graphics. The goal is to have both THE WANDERSONG and JEWEL SONGS available by Consonance, next spring.

What a wonderful, unexpected gift.

English is a funny language, a hybrid of foreign vocabulary grafted onto a Germanic original, whose grammatical peculiarities have been gradually dying away over the years. The latest words to face extinction are some of the past tenses of irregular verbs. I have seen them replaced by logical, but incorrect forms in the work of many otherwise literate writers whom I would have thought would know better.

So now I call on all who value the beauties of the English language to save the endangered verb forms–

1. The past tense for waking up is not “waked”. It is either “he woke” or “she was awakened”.

2. The past tense for “weave” is “wove”, not “weaved”. And “The cloth was woven”. “She has woven cloth.”
For “cleave”, similarly, it is not “cleaved”, but “clove”. “His head was cloven” “I have cloven many heads”.
And for “dive”, not “dived”, but “dove”. Unfortunately, however, you cannot say “he has doven.” When faced with that question, I would simply say, “he dove”, although you might get away with “he has dived”.

There are others, but these are the ones that have aroused my ire in recent reading.

Happy Birthday, Ember! and here’s the Swedish Birthday song!

And may she live, and may she live,
And may she live for a hundred years,
And when she has lived, and when she has lived,
We’ll carry her out in this wheelbarrow here!

Got back from World Fantasy Con late last night. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this one, it’s a professionally oriented (though not limited to pros) con held on the weekend closest to Hallowe’en that moves around the country. So many writers show up that only the Guests of Honor get more than one program slot, and it’s an honor to be included. Editors also show up in great numbers (especially when it’s on the East Coast), and don’t run away when they see authors coming. The programming is of high quality, there’s an awards banquet, and it’s a great opportunity to make contacts and generate ideas.

I went this year because Viking took out a full page ad for RAVENS OF AVALON in the program book, and in any case, I haven’t done an East Coast con for awhile and thought it time to refresh people’s memories. The committee was very nice to me, put me on the program as a “big name”. Tor invited me to their table for the banquet. I got to meet my new editor for the Avalon books and had a productive conversation. I signed lots of books at the autographing. The countryside was coming into fall color – beautiful – and Saratoga Springs is a charming town with a yarn store a half a block from the Convention center. (By the way, in 2009 the con will be in San Jose, so anyone from this area who’s interested can see what it’s like).

That’s the plus side. On the downside, no one seems to have informed the booksellers about the RAVENS OF AVALON ad, and no one had copies for sale at the con. Of the many books I signed, only a few were the recent ones. Although I have a new Avalon contract (story of how the Sword was forged, 1000 BC), I have no current prospects for anything under my own name alone, and am faced with the prospect of reinventing myself as a writer (something that has happened to a number of better writers than I am recently). No one has suggested starting over with a new name, but I am considering refocusing on historical and/or YA fiction.

What have I learned?
1. I need to be more aggressive on publicity in general (and I know some of you will say, “I told you so”). I can’t assume the publisher knows how to do it. I must find a way to make sure the booksellers know about my latest work when I am going to a con.
2. I am not ready to rest on my laurels, retire, or switch entirely to non-fiction. (Speaking of which, I just turned in the draft of TRANCE-PORTATION to Weiser)
3. I need to look upon this situation not as a closing door, but as a chance to open a new one.

I have a year to get the new Avalon book done (RoC is bringing all of them out again in paperback, which should generate some interest). But I promise that somehow I will write the sequel to GOLDEN HILLS OF WESTRIA.

This afternoon Lorrie and I went to a concert of the California Symphony in Walnut Creek to hear Holst’s THE PLANETS. They had decided to make the opening concert special by having a video by the Adler Planetarium in Chicago that showed a montage astronomical and historical footage about each of the planets as each section was played– cool pictures from Voyager, etc. The video was excellent, and so was the music, although since Holst was interpreting the astrological meaning of each planet, not its astronomical characteristics, the match was not always as good as it might be. Venus in particular was problematic, as the actual planet is hot and volcanic rather than the cool, peaceful place the music portrays. But the Mars section, with lots of footage from the Mars Rover, was pretty neat. Especially the part with the Martian Dust Devils that come whirling along and clean the dust off the Rover’s solar panels.

Lorrie and I both immediately thought of the time someone asked one of our seeresses (I don’t want to Out you, but when you see this, feel free to claim the credit) whether there was life on Mars. After she had made herself an air bubble so she could travel, her first words were, “Of course there are wights on Mars!” Though not the flesh and blood kind he was asking about.

And there they were, the Martian wind-wights, whirling across the sand….

A couple of weeks ago I was interviewed by Steve McEllistrem for “Write On Radio” on KFAI in Minneapolis.

They aired the interview today. Anyone who wants to hear more about RAVENS OF AVALON can access it through the KFAI website: www.kfai.org. Either access it through programs and schedule by dropping down to Write on Radio and checking the archives there, or perhaps easier: go to archives, then October 11, and the interview will be the second half of Write on Radio. You can listen in for the next two weeks.

Remember the Teal Party? Well, when some of you expressed discomfort with the idea of following Odin into the fight against Global Warming, Heimdall kindly volunteered.

The premise behind this song is the identification of the jotnar (the Norse giants), with the spirits of elemental forces such as fire, frost, earth, wind and sea. So long as they remain in balance, all is well. But when the system becomes so disordered that only the destructive forces remain, the giants will march on Asgard to battle the gods and end this Age of the World.

In Muspelheim, Surt’s children (1)
Are stirring in their sleep.
In Himinbjorg, wise Heimdall (2)
Unending watch must keep.
For Midgard’s winds blow warmer,(3)
The threat’s becoming clear,
The Gjallarhorn blows softly, (4)
Can anybody hear?

The etins are uneasy, (5)
Now melts Bergelmir’s hall, (6)
The ramparts of the rime thurs, (7)
Begin to crack and fall.
And Aegir’s waves are rising, (8)
And Hraesvelg’s wild winds veer, (9)
The Gjallarhorn blows softly,
Can anybody hear?

Where Skadhi roamed the forest, (10)
Muspelli minions burn; (11)
The beasts forsake their ranges,
The birds do not return.
Where Nerthus’ crops once flourished, (12)
The earth lies bare and sere,
The Gjallarhorn blows softly,
Can anybody hear?

From Asgard’s heights, the Aesir, (13)
See lesser thurses rage,
And ask if they’re the heralds
Of the ending of the Age?
And will their masters follow?
Does Ragnarök draw near? (14)
The Gjallarhorn blows softly,
Can anybody hear?

Though Ymir’s blood may ebb and flow (15)
And Midgard bear his bones,
When this world’s weather alters,
What price the world we’ve known?
The gods call us to battle
For all that we hold dear,
The Gjallarhorn blows softly,
Can anybody hear?

Now soft, Ríg blows the Gjallarhorn, (16)
Around, his children crowd,
He calls us to delay the day
When he must blow it loud.
The gods call us to balance
The forces that we fear,
The Gjallarhorn blows softly,
And Heimdall’s children hear!

Notes:

(1) Muspelheim is the home of the Muspelli and the Sons of Surtr, the fire-giants. When they march, Ragnarok will begin.
(2) Heimdall is the watchman of the gods who guards the Bifrost Bridge.
(3) Heimdall will call the gods to battle at Ragnarok by blowing the Gjallarhorn
(4) Midgard is the world we live in
(5) etin is the Anglo-Saxon word for giant
(6) Bergelmir is the ancestor of all the frost giants
(7) rime thurses are frost giants
(8) Aegir is the jotun who rules the sea
(9) Hraesvelg sits in the north in eagle form and fans the winds with his wings
(10) Skadhi is a giantess who married into the family of the gods. She is associated with hunting and the wilderness.
(11) the Muspelli are lesser fire etins
(12) Nerthus is a goddess of the fertile earth and agriculture
(13) the Aesir are the Norse gods
(14) Ragnarok is the great war in which the gods will lose to the giants; Midgard will be destroyed, giving way to a new and different Age of the world.
(15) Ymir is the primal being who was dismembered by the gods and his parts recycled to create Midgard (our world). His blood became the seas, his bones the rocks, etc.
(16) Ríg is the name under which Heimdall wandered the world, begetting the different classes of humankind.

A lot of writers use recorded music as a soundtrack for writing. Most of the story I just finished for the upcoming anthology, LACE AND BLADE (edited by Deborah Ross for Norilana Books) was written to Villa-Lobos’ “Bachianas Brasileiras” (SF Symphony with Michael Tilson Thomas), but live music does even more. A few years ago, Jennifer Tifft hooked me on going to the San Francisco Symphony with her, and when she moved to Arizona (sniff), lwood picked up the other ticket. I quickly discovered that I had to take a notebook with me, because invariably, sitting there (in balcony seats behind the stage, so one is practically IN the orchestra), bathed in sound, gets the creative juices flowing even better than going for a vigorous walk.

Last night was the first of this season’s concerts for me. Since Lorrie is off at the Nordic Knitting conference in Seattle (about which I am sure she will tell you all), and my husband has a cold, I was looking for someone else to use the second ticket, and was astonished when my grand-daughter Arael volunteered. I suppose I shouldn’t have been–off and on, she has studied piano, clarinet and guitar, but two Beethoven pieces and a Brahms symphony are not exactly the “Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra”. But after a quick trip to Ross to find her a skirt (she having grown out of everything except her blue jeans), we BARTed across the Bay.

It was an excellent evening. She really liked being able to see what was happening in the orchestra, especially the pianist (Jeremy Denk, doing Beethoven’s Piano Concerto #1, and piano sounds *so* much better live). I got out my notebook, and by the time the Concerto and the *King Stephen* overture were finished, had figured out the plot to a possible Gold Rush period YA book that my son Ian and I are considering. The Brahms went on a bit long for her– the kind of lush, enveloping sound that picks you up and carries you away. *That* one gave me a plot for a new Avalon book.

So I think the price of the tickets well spent. Now I’m looking for other things to take Arael to, and maybe see if the boys want to come along. Hmm, I wonder if I can deduct the price of tickets as a business expense on my taxes?

Lately I’ve mostly been talking about GOLDEN HILLS, but since RAVENS OF AVALON is my most recent publication, I really ought to be focusing on that one, and give it what help I can.

I recently learned that the publisher is doing a full-page ad in the program book for World Fantasy Con, to be held the weekend after Hallowe’en in Saratoga Springs, NY. It occurred to me that showing up at the con would be a good idea, particularly as it’s a good one at which to hunt down editors.

Unfortunately, all the convention hotels seem to be sold out. I’m investigating smaller places in the area, but it occurs to me to ask, first, are any of my friends (or friends of friends) attending, and if so, would anyone like to share room expenses by adding a room mate on a roll-away? Or second, do you know of anyone in the general area who would be willing to host a visiting writer for a few days? I can bring signed books…..

If anyone has any ideas that would help, let me know.

So, the boxes of books have arrived. They are the hardcover, beautifully produced, with nice paper that will not turn yellow in 20 years. You can order them for $20.00, postpaid, which is less than list price. Send the check to me at 90 El Camino Real, Berkeley, CA 94705.

And when you have read GOLDEN HILLS OF WESTRIA, those of you who are following S.M.Stirling’s Nantucket and Change series may or may not know that he has started a new trilogy, focusing on Rudi Mackenzie and picking up about 12 years after A MEETING AT CORVALLIS. It’s called THE SUNRISE LANDS. If you like Westria, and don’t know what I am talking about, run, do not walk, to your local SF bookstore (or Amazon, if you don’t have one) and get DIES THE FIRE, first of the trilogy that explains what happened to the rest of the country when Nantucket was transported back in time. In a single moment, the laws of nature are changed, and any electrical, electronic or explosive process ceases to work. No cars, no phones, no guns. And very shortly, no Civilization-as-we-know-it. In other words, without the natural disasters, it’s the Cataclysm.

Stirling has essentially written the book that I am too superstitious to write, without the guilt, since this cataclysm is not caused by man. But the results are the same. Amusingly, he also posits that the survivors would include disproportionate numbers of people from the SCA, Native Americans, and pagans, that political organization would become regional, and would develop various versions of feudalism. I’ve always loved “how-to” books, from SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON to ALAS BABYLON. Stirling does the nitty-gritty description of how people learn to make weapons and use them and to cope in a hundred other ways, with vivid detail. He’s especially good with sensory imagery. And his characters are people you want to know, and the plots barrel right along.

Fortunately he finds a way to make the subsequent developments as interesting as the first survival stage,and the first trilogy ends well. Now we have a new one, and I will eagerly await volume II. It’s almost like reading a Westria novel I didn’t have to write!

Thanks for all the sympathy, folks, and the interest. I think this is the paperback, so the cost will be $5 or $6 plus postage. I’ll know how much that is when I mail the first one. In the meantime, I think it’s still available on Amazon.

I find the whole situation frustrating, as aside from the question of where I’m going to find room for more boxes of books, I have always felt that *selling* the books was not my job. But I feel even more strongly that anyone who wants to read about Westria ought to have the chance to do so. When the books arrive, I’ll let you all know…

So last year sometime I got contacted by someone doing a book about magical places in California and they wanted to talk to me about Greyhaven. That seemed reasonable. Visiting Greyhaven has been accused/described, as entering a visionary state/going to Elfhill/meeting up with the witches often enough. Eventually the photographer arranged to come by. He wanted a picture of an altar, so I decided to create one for Frigga in my kitchen. This involved clearing the end of the table that would be in the picture.

The photographer was late. So I cleaned up the rest of the table. The photographer still hadn’t come, so… well, eventually, when the entire kitchen had been cleaned, including mopping the floor, the photographer came and took a great picture. I figured that was just Frigga’s way of getting me to clean my kitchen.

The author was supposed to interview me, but it never happened, so I figured the photo would end up on the cutting room floor.

But I just found the book in a bookstore. Greyhaven is indexed twice. One reference discusses the foundation of the SCA and Marion Zimmer Bradley and mispells my first name. The other is the photo, which is labeled an altar for Freya.

Now I would have been happy to make an altar to Freya–I have done so many times. But that wasn’t what I did, as the contents of the picture should make clear to anyone who is familiar with the iconography. I hope the ladies both understand and will forgive the confusion. It wasn’t my fault!

* * *

I have gotten some good PR on RAVENS OF AVALON. An interview with SCI FI WIRE has been posted at www.scifi.com/scifiwire/index.php?category=5&id=43490. And a phone interview will be aired on the Minneapolis show “Write On” September 13th from 11-noon CDT, or you can pick it up at www.kfai.org . And thanks to Lorrie, we are finally getting www.Avalonbooks.net, the Avalon website, up at last. New content is appearing daily, and the photo gallery is up with some really good pictures.

That’s almost enough to console me for the fact that Tor is about to remainder about 7,000 leftover copies of THE GOLDEN HILLS OF WESTRIA. I am buying some, so if anybody doesn’t have one, let me know. I just hope that they recycle the paper.

John Muir once said that he was very fond of earthquakes because he liked to see people acting in earnest, and during an earthquake, everyone is very much in earnest…

The shake that awakened us this morning at 4:42 a.m. was a 4.2 quake. Clearly the meaning of life is an event that makes everyone feel very earnest. The epicenter seems to have been a little south of the intersection of hwys 24 and 13.

Fortunately, no harm was done. The more tenuous piles of books fell over and a couple of god-statues tipped off a shelf (including Poseidon Earthshaker). The window of the donut shop down at the corner of College and Ashby broke.

The theory is that a lot of small quakes release the pressure so that there’s no need for a large one. Since the Hayward fault parallels our street about a block away, I’m all in favor of that. You go ahead and stretch, Mother Earth, and then go back to sleep.

lwood posting here, as Diana and I are both a bit wrung-out from all of last week’s excitement and jetlag.

Anyway, you can find a record of the interview Barry Lynn, head of Americans United for Separation of Church and State had with Diana, Selena Fox of Circle Sanctuary, and Caroline Kenner of Chesapeake Pagan Community on the site of his radio show, Culture Shocks. Or, if you’d rather just cut to the chase, an mp3 of the entire broadcast is also available.

Enjoy!

— Lorrie (posting in Diana’s LJ)

Lorrie is letting me use her laptop for my own comment on today’s events. I’m still pretty jazzed by how well the Pagan Religious Rights Rally in Lafayette Square Park (across from the White House!) came off.
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There once was a planet called Earth,
A place of both sorrow and mirth.
But when Global Warming
Became quite alarming,
We discovered the need for rebirth.

I know limericks are supposed to be funny, but, well…

My good deed for Earth Day will be to deliver a carload of old computers and peripherals to, of all places, IKEA (Fensalir by the Bay), which is having a “bring out your dead (computers)” day.

This (Friday) evening, a friend with a spare ticket took me to the Oakland Symphony, which, while not as glossy as the San Francisco orchestra, is a very competent group, in the somewhat more relaxed atmosphere of the old Paramount Theater, which is notable for its well-preserved Art Deco decor. Apparently the schedule always includes a contemporary piece. This time it was the world premiere of “River of Mercy” by Andrew Norman, with a text from John Muir’s writings about the Merced River.

“Form to Form
Beauty to yet higher beauty
Ever Changing
Never resting
Everything is flowing…”

Of course this is arranged as poetry, but Muir’s prose is always poetic and achingly evocative of landscapes that in some cases are gone.

The piece features a well balanced mix of instruments, including chorus and some fine percussion, describing in sound the river’s progress from melting snow in the heights to the sea. My only complaint was that it hasn’t yet been recorded, so I can’t go out and buy the CD. Anyway, it was gorgeous, followed by Debussy’s “La Mer”, since, as Maestro Morgan pointed out, the river should run to the sea. “La Mer” was more or less the sound track when I was writing _The Sea Star_, so I immersed myself in sound and image, and tried to send energy to our embattled oceans.

Along with all the practical things we are trying to do, I realize that we should not forget the spiritual. For those of us who believe that Magic works, spending some regular time in meditation, sending energy to threatened species and visualizing change, might be a part of the program. Having gotten off to such a good start, I think that for me, this month’s focus will be the seas.

“The sun shines not on us but in us
The river flows not past, but through us
Thrilling
Tingling
Vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies
Making them glide
Making them sing
The trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies,
Our souls,
And every bird song,
Every wind song,
Every storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains
Is our song
Sounding on forever
Our song
Our very own
And sings our love”

In anticipation of Earth Day, the environmental activitists are sponsoring nation-wide rallies next Saturday, April 14th to demonstrate for swifter action for Clean Energy. I’m too claustrophobic to feel comfortable at demonstrations and rallies (I managed to get through the entire decade of the 70’s with no more than a whiff of tear gas), but I’m going to turn up for this one. Given that Berkeley has no less than three events scheduled, it might be hard to avoid
it .

But for once, the Granola Bowl will not be alone. For information on events all over the country, go to: http://events.stepitup2007.org/ally/moveon

I’m going to try to make the Town meeting in the Berkeley City College Auditorium from 9 a.m. to l p.m., and then maybe the rally at People’s Park in the afternoon. There’s also a Bubble Parade, but I can probably give that a miss.

I’ll be wearing my teal party hat. See you there!

Last Tuesday evening, I held down the Eastern Quarter for the graduation/final ritual of Arbor Vitae, a Kabbalistic study group sponsored by the Fellowship of the Spiral Path. It was particularly interesting because the Spiral version of Kabbalah studies started with a group I led back in the 1980’s (a tradition that I used to jokingly call “California Kabbalah”). As I racked my brain trying to remember in just which direction one starts a banishing pentagram, I found myself reflecting on the great virtues of that system and also why I am not practicing it anymore.

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I could hardly resist the drawing personality test, but I must admit I cheated and used the graphics pad. On the other hand, I think the test was interpreted from the answers to the questions.

[edit: the image of the drawing no longer exists]

The results of your analysis say:

You tend to pursue many different activities simultaneously. When misfortune does happen, it doesn’t actually dishearten you all that much.
You are a thoughtful and cautious person. You like to think about your method, seeking to pursue your goal in the most effective way.
You are creative, mentally active and industrious.
You have a sunny, cheerful disposition.

I’d say that’s pretty accurate.

So last night at Hrafnar we were honoring Heimdall, and as usual, I throw in a guided meditation to let people talk to him inside as well as outside. As for myself, I was asking him to continue to keep an eye on the jotnar, especially the unbalanced ones. The sense I got was that he’d been watching them for some time, and by the way, why not put his horn in the center of that recycle symbol for the Teal Party?

From what I’ve been hearing, everybody’s gods seem to want to jump on that bandwagon. Clearly we’ll have to offer a number of options, with god-symbol of your choice. However Heimdall’s suggestion did have several advantages. For one, he doesn’t elicit the kind of nervous twitches some people get from Odin. But more important, Heimdall is the watchman– he’s seen the Global Warming problem coming for a long time. The gjallarhorn is meant to summon the gods and their allies to battle. If he blows it now, softly, maybe we can get enough done so that he won’t have to blow it again, loudly, to signal the beginning of Ragnarok in 2050.

We’ve been making a little progress. We managed to feed people at this meeting without using paper plates or cups.

lwood tells me that IKEA (also known as Fensalir by the Bay), is going to stop giving out plastic bags.

kaffee-spinne who carries a lot of relevant news, posted that John Edwards is planning an energy-efficient campaign, and has apparently picked up the banner dropped by Vilsack. Check out his website.

http://johnedwards.com/news/headlines/20070313-global_warming/

Quote of the day– on the Daily Show last night, Zbigniew Brezhenzky characterized the current Bush foreign policy as “Manichean paranoia”. What an elegant way to put it!

Took the opportunity to catch up on my friends’ list and saw the lwood post sequence about rating oil compananies and the like. I was pleased by the requests to be on a TP mailing list (is that a bad acronym? It does relate to recycling ). However Lorrie’s comment that posting on various venues gets the word out farther makes sense. This sparked some conversation between me and grendel_todd…ideas sparking…danger…danger. Well, actually, he asked me what the Teal Party _was_…

Ian– I see– you’ve started another organization…

Me– No, no…it’s more of a movement, really.

Ian– We could put up Teal-Party pages on the various family websites. Hmm (checking the web), all the hits I get are for party supplies. “Teal Party”.net, com, and org are all available. We could have a separate website.

Me– Er. Yes. We could. (although I can’t help thinking this should wait until I’ve caught up filling the websites I already have). Ordering teal colored paper plates would be ecologically unsound (unless they’re made from recycled paper). But there are a lot of ways to get the idea into circulation. Remember how wearing those rubber bracelets for charity became a fad?

Ian–You want to make up Teal Party bracelets?

Me–No, though I was thinking of a ribbon for Baycon. And all the discussion of the San Francisco anti-plastic bag initiative got me thinking. If we made up some iron-on transfers of the Valknut surrounded by the recycle symbol (Lorrie, can you post that one here?), people could iron them on to their cloth grocery bags. Greyhaven has a large collection, some bought from stores that sold them, others are freebie SF con book bags, or free gifts for donating to environmental organizations, and some were made by various people from pieces of old clothing. Most have at least one blank side to which to attach the logo. Then, all we would need is a way to explain the logo to non-pagan people who ask about it at the grocery store.

I think I would say– “Well, it’s a mythological reference. That triangle thing is a symbol of the god Odin, who is fated to fight the destructive giants, who are like the unbalanced powers of Nature, at Ragnarok. If we fight Global Warming, maybe we can keep things in balance and put the end of our world off until its destined time.”

Anyway, the “Teal Party” seems to be a catchy idea. If we spread it around, accompanied by information bytes and little nudges in the right direction, maybe it will add to that gradually movement of particles that could eventually become an avalanche of activism. Individual actions add up.

Thought for the day– recycle that pair of worn-out jeans into a grocery bag. And who would like an iron-on patch and does anyone have a suggestion for how to create said patches that will survive washing?

Should have watched the Oscars– I missed Al Gore being amazed that AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH won Best Documentary and another for the song. Bet that’s one award he never expected.

But he’s not about to miss an opportunity. He wants to present Congress with a room full of messages when he testifies before Congress on the Climate Crisis on March 21–a nice Equinoctial date to seek balance– and is asking people to go to

http://www.algore.com/cards.html

and send a note.

Hope you like the new logo– I got the idea, and Lwood made it move. I think it’s the shiniest thing ever. And the effect of the valknut merging with earth every three seconds is kind of, um, suggestive….. But really, while we’re in the stage of getting the message out, Odin really is the god to help, with maybe some help from his friends Hermes and Exu.

The Electric Beavers actually finished their work in one day, although they left several things non-operational behind them. One set of faucets are too antique to mate with the contemporary pipes and will have to be replaced. The outflow from the downstairs antique porcelain sink, which was apparently held together by faith and habit, was dislodged by the jarring and will have to be replaced. And the basement toilet does not function for reasons unclear to us all.

The city inspector came this morning to look at all the pretty copper pipes and pronounce them Good. The plasterer is expected on Wednesday to cover them all up again. And then we will have to start thinking about repainting…. When the weather clears up again, someday.

There’s snow on Mt. Diablo, I hear, and we may get some in Berkeley. The kids are wildly excited at the prospect. I expect those of you who live in the mid-west and east have a somewhat different reaction. Keep warm, everybody, and watch your footing.

Well, alas, there’s one down–

A friend just sent me the following:

“Vilsack Drops Out Of ’08 Race: Cites Better-Known, Better-Financed Rivals

Link: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/thenewswire/archive/../../2007/02/23/vilsack-drops-out-of-08-_n_41937.html

Vilsack left office in January and traveled through states holding early tests of strength. … Read the rest at HuffingtonPost.com ”

I’m sure that the California Conservation Voters and all the other environmental organizations that send me mail will provide updates on the positions of the remaining candidates. But the best way to get them focused would be to write letters and ask questions when they campaign.

So, as those of you who also friend Ian already know, Greyhaven has been invaded by half-a-dozen Electric Beavers, who are hammering, sawing, and generally chewing open the walls in order to insert new copper pipes. Every time the floor vibrates I twitch.

But it was time. Anyone who has visited here is probably aware that the water pressure in general, and the hot water in particular, has been fading away. The house is almost a hundred years old, and the pipes have been in for a loooong time. Corrosion was only to be expected. When we got to the point where the best one could get from the shower was a tepid drip, I gave in. I also had this idea that running the water for 15 minutes to get even the tepid drip was wasteful of both water and energy. However I fear that once we get hot water people will take longer showers, so I don’t know how much we’ll save.

I am assured that the copper pipes will last at least another hundred years, and they have promised to plaster up the holes, but I see some repainting in my future, and some re-tiling as well.

In the meantime, please pardon our dust. Twitch. Duck.

Recuperating from Pantheacon and my birthday dinner (with many thanks to my daughter-in-law Elisabeth for a yummy caramel cake and Lorrie for selecting, planning and serving while simultaneously performing arcane operations on all our computers). We had salmon, green long beans with mushrooms, wild rice, carrots and celery heart roasted with chicken and of course ice creram and cake. I should point out that the beans, mushrooms, rice, and celery and chicken were grown within a hundred miles. The salmon was wild-caught from Alaska.

Shanta and Erynn are still here (Elisheva left this morning to get home for the birthday of her husband, which is also today), so the Pantheacon party continues. It was a great event once more, with the largest attendance ever (2700), so all the presentations were well-attended. Our seidh session went smoothly, and I enjoyed doing a workshop on “Runic Dyads” (not tree spirits – Runic dryads) but a look at the way rune meanings shift depending on what other runes they are paired with.

Weiser Books and Llewellyn both sent editors, and Fields books sponsored book signings, so the pagan publications end of things was much more in evidence than usual– this caused me some confusion, as I am accustomed to talking about writing at SF conventions while wearing my writer hat, not my priestess cord. I handed out lots of “Welcome to Westria” and “Burn Rome” (in honor of Ravens of Avalon) ribbons, and collected a lot. I ended up with a string of 30, and am thinking of making them into a vest. By Bay-con I want to have some that say, “The Teal Party Wants You” or some such, as well.

According to the lot casting Elie did, I am supposed to lead more boldly, so I’d like to draw your attention to a SF Chronicle article sent me by a friend. According to the Chron,

“Wednesday, February 14, 2007 (SF Chronicle)
Ex-Iowa Gov. Vilsack offers plan to cut greenhouse gases
Carla Marinucci, Chronicle Political Writer

Former Iowa Gov. Tom Vilsack — staking his ground in the Democratic
presidential race on what he called “the single most important issue
facing America today” — proposed a sweeping national energy policy
Tuesday that calls for reducing greenhouse gases 75 percent by 2050,
dramatically cutting American dependence on fossil fuels and creating
hundreds of thousands of jobs in renewable energy.
Vilsack, during a speech in San Francisco at the Commonwealth Club of
California, offered the most wide-ranging and detailed energy policy of
any of almost two dozen 2008 presidential hopefuls, Democratic or
Republican.”

I agree, and my vote will go to whoever comes out most strongly and sensibly in this area.

I’ll be following the Vilsack campaign with great interest.

So, a year and one day after THE GOLDEN HILLS OF WESTRIA appeared in hardcover, a box of the paperbacks was deposited at my door. On the exact day scheduled for publication, yet. Remarkable speed and organization for a publisher. This is the Westrian revival book that picks up 25 years after the end of THE JEWEL OF FIRE, when everyone’s children are almost grown, and introduces a whole new conflict. If any of you thought the book sounded interesting but didn’t want to shell out for a hardcover (or didn’t have the shelf space), the paperback is for you.

And I give samples–

(from Chapter 1)

By day, the Sacred Wood* was a pleasant place. The great trees shielded Phoenix from the sun. He could wade in the clear stream where the fingerling trout and salmon darted away from his shadow, and watch the deer step delicately from the shadows of the trees. Ravens called higher up on the mountain, and from time to time a buzzard slid across the fragment of blue that was all he could see of the sky. Where sunlight shafted through the forest at times he thought he saw something more; around the most vigorous plants shimmered a luminous shadow. Was it lack of food or his vision of the night before that made him think he was seeing another reality?

When night fell, he was sure of it, as trees that had drowsed through the long summer day, woke, whispering. To his parents, the Guardians of Westria were old familiar friends. He wished he could be as certain of their blessings. Still, if what he had glimpsed the first night had been truth, the Lord of the Trees had now inspected him and might be expected to leave him in peace hereafter. For what seemed a long time he lay wakeful, while the waxing moon crossed his circle of sky and disappeared. That day he had gone looking for the graves of his ancestors, but the lords of Westria, who in life were honored by all, in death were wrapped in cotton shrouds and laid in unmarked graves. Even now he might be resting above his grandfather’s bones.

He was still wondering when the whisper of wind worked its magic and he moved from musing to dream. At first they were only a confusion of images—he was marching through a dry land, endlessly, it seemed, until another sequence replaced it in which he fought a succession of faceless enemies. People and places flickered by. He recognized none of them, but he knew that he was searching endlessly for something infinitely precious that he had forgotten or lost.

It was almost with relief that he recognized the confused roar in which the clangor of metal on metal mingled with cries of pain as the clamor of a battlefield. The fighting was fiercest in the center, where foes who fought beneath the banner of a serpent-circled sun threatened a man whose shield bore the star of the royal house on a field of blue.

“Westria, to me!” came the cry.

“Father!” Phoenix cried, desperate to go to his aid. And even as he spoke, he realized that he had somehow acquired armor and a sword. But as he battered his way through the enemy he saw that this man lacked the heavy shoulders that marked King Julian. But his small frame was all muscle, and his sword darted in and out like a silver flame.With a last effort Phoenix reached his side.

“Now that we are together, who can stand against us?” laughed the king. At the sound, Phoenix felt his spirit ignite with the joy of battle, all his fears consumed by that flame. And presently their foes retreated and they stood victorious upon the field. As the king sighed and pulled off his helm, Phoenix saw that his hair was dark like Julian’s, but his eyes were as deeply blue as the boy’s own.

“You are King Jehan—“ Phoenix recognized the doomed ruler he had seen in a portrait in Laurelynn, the grandfather who had died before his own son was born, leaving his pregnant wife alone. “What are you doing here?”

Some of the laughter left the king’s eyes. “Defending Westria, as in life I failed to do—“

“But why have you come to me?” said Phoenix as the figure of the king begin to fade.

“Son of Julian,” came the king’s reply, “redeem my name!”

(*the Sacred Wood is Muir Woods, for those of you who are familiar with California)

If you have read the book you will have noticed that although by the end most of the problems have been solved, there are still one or two loose ends. This is because I initially planned an entire additional sequence in which we learn that winning the peace can be harder than winning the war (I hate it when my stuff turns out to be topical), but had a length limit. So Tor is now sitting on the proposal for another story–currently titled THE TURQUOISE SCEPTRE– which I desperately want to write. I suspect their decision will depend on sales figures for GOLDEN HILLS. So if you want to read the sequel, you can write to Dave Hartwell at Tor Books (the address is included in the front of any of their books) and ask when it’s coming out, please.

It’s always encouraging to take another look at something that is already DONE– supports my faith that the current project will also one day be finished and see print. It may look easy when I write the proposal, but when I actually get down to *writing* each new project, I wonder first why I ever thought this would be possible, or even worthwhile, and then whether I will be able to finish it on time. So far the former has always resolved itself, and I have always been able to negotiate an adjustment on the deadline.

The current challenge is the book on trancework– an upgrade of the materials written for the Trance Class, now completing its third iteration under the inspiring direction of Ember, Hilary, and Dave. I hope to succeed in incorporating all the brilliant additions and insights participants have offered.

In the meantime, I also have the copyedited MS of RAVENS OF AVALON to go through and return before Pantheacon, where I will have to explain myriad times that a “tunica” is not a mis-spelling for “tunic”, nor is it a marine creature, but the correct Latin name for a woman’s garment wrapped around the body and pinned at the shoulders (known in heathen circles as the “barbarian wrap”, and in Greece as a chiton). At least, amazingly, they got it right on the cover. Fortunately I have a good eraser and am not afraid to use it.

Onward!

For the past two weeks, I’ve been going to Sarah-Rachel’s apartment to tackle the job of clearing it out, aided by several blessed friends, some of whom knew her, but others who are just plain helpful people (thank you, Catherine!).

You may think your place is a mess, but most of us at least attempt to organize. S-R was paranoid about theft, and so things were systematically jumbled so that nothing was where a thief would expect to find it. Which meant that every single box and bag had to be sifted to sort out the old bead catalogues, old bills, scraps of paper, paper on which she had written poetry, and little bags of beads. Many pounds of paper and rags are going to be recycled, but in that messy mass I found gold.

After two weeks, I have rescued 163 poems (and several boxes worth of beads and embroidery), which I have just finished typing into a computer file so I can make up a little booklet for her relatives and friends. She put the date and often time of composition on each one, so it was possible to organize them chronologically. The result is an autobiography in poetry. It had been awhile since she had made it to one of our Bardic circles, and I had forgotten how good some of her stuff was.

The poems are surprisingly spare and pithy– an example from 1982 goes–

Star sprinkled sky
I look up:
small mind
clings to
infinite light.

Another, from 1990, when she was living in what she called Sleazeville, Oakland–

I heard
shots again tonight
same as last night.

People feeding
off each other.
“Why do you sew

such beautiful,
wonderful things?” she
asked me. I have

to—I
live ugly.

Some are incredibly painful–

Sciatica
is like walking
barefoot
through a
haystack full of needles,
all over.
(1992)

and some funny ones–

So, God created cats:
Saw what he had done;
Then, He stopped creating—
Since He’d reached purrrrfection.
(1988)

Her whole life is there, expressed and organized as it was nowhere else. This is a gift I hadn’t expected.

DLP

Every January, I throw a devotional in honor of Odin, to which we invite those of my kindred and the Umbanda House who are interested in possessory work with the Norse gods. This year, things got rather…interesting.

For those of you who were *not* at the party, it’s like this…

I have long held the theory that the jotnar are personified forces of nature. The ones that the gods interact with in the eddas are those that maintain the cycles of nature in a more or less orderly and positive way. Eventually, this Age of the Earth will come to an end, the balance will be upset, and the unbalanced, destructive jotnar, such as Surtr and Hrym will take over. The gods expect to fight, and lose, when that time comes– however it seems reasonable to assume that Odin and the others would prefer that humans not unbalance things and bring it on ahead of time.

Global Warming, if unchecked, is likely to do just that. So whether one accepts the validity of god-possession or not, the logic of doing something to fight it seems reasonable. If you are not convinced, watch AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH.

My personal belief is that as a heathen it is my duty to stand by my gods in this fight, and that the reason Odin has become so pushy in recent years is because he was recruiting.

In any case, what seemed to be happening at the party was that Odin was getting commitments from the other god/desses present, and then one of the participants who was not in trance brought out his oath ring, and Somebody got the bright idea of getting everyone present to swear to help in the fight against Global Warming.

I would feel more apologetic about having provided the means to entangle everyone’s wyrd, except that we’re all affected by this already. And one hardly needs to flyte (challenge) this oath– if we fail, we’re all going to be in deep do do. We may be anyway, but I’d rather go down knowing that I tried.

The gods can work on the jotnar, but given that human activities are creating the CO2 surplus, we are the ones that need to diminish it, in particular those of us who live in the US. Lots of small choices are causing the problem, and many small choices can start to solve it. It will need an effort at the level this country achieved in World War II, with local action working along with government regulation. Just recently there have been some promising moves in Washington, but the motivation has to come from all of us, until the 100th monkey gets the idea. I saw a generation transformed during the sixties; I saw the Berlin Wall go down– it *can* happen.

My personal first step is to buy more locally grown vegetables, save meat for celebrations, try to use less energy at home and plan my driving more carefully. I’ve already written to encourage my congresspeople– congresswomen, actually, in this district– to put government funding and legislation to reduce use of fossil fuels in place. They are already committed, but encouragement always helps. We need to encourage friends in other parts of the country to do the same.

As for the “Teal” Party– that’s Lorrie’s quip about what happens when Odin goes Green.

Several afternoons this week have been devoted to going through my friend’s apartment, sorting her stuff into things to throw away,give to the GoodWill, and save for distribution to friends and family. I am deeply grateful to the several friends, some of whom did not even know her, who have volunteered to help me. So far we have found many many packets of beads (she did wonderful necklaces and beaded garments), mixed in with many other things. I have found a lot of her poetry, and a lot of rants against people she believed had wronged her. I will be burning the latter. Let the negative emotions go the way of the body that gave her so much pain, and keep the sweetness and the wonderful creativity.

She hadn’t gotten rid of anything for some years, so it’s quite a task. Not that I can throw stones– actually, I DO throw things away, but there’s always more. People who don’t want to junk something that might be useful drop it off at Greyhaven, and I have somehow found myself the archivist for several dead poets. The downside of having a big house is that everyone assumes you have room, just as the downside of working at home means that people think you are at leisure during the day. Flexible, yes, free, no– if I want income, the work has to be done sometime.

However I got the revisions for RAVENS done and in, so there should be some money one of these days. I’ll get the copyedited MS just before Pantheacon….. grr. Still, that’s mostly a matter of erasing changes to my punctuation or arguing about the spelling of “grey”.

Yesterday morning, at about 4 a.m., I woke up, and as I sat wondering whether to go make myself a cup of hot milk to get back to sleep, the hospital called to tell me that my friend had passed away. My fear was that she would have to spend an indeterminate amount of time half-conscious in a place she hated, so one week unconscious after being able to live in her own place for an extra year was definitely a blessing.

I spent much of yesterday with her sisters, dealing with arrangements, since at this point the living needed my help more than the dead. In the next few weeks we’ll have to deal with the contents of her apartment. How do you dispose of a life? What do you do with things whose only value was in memory? I still have boxes in my basement that haven’t been unpacked since I cleared out my mother’s place 20 years ago. Some of the Native American tribes pile up the belongings and hold a dance, where everyone comes and selects keepsakes. Others burn everything a man owned and his house as well. Either would be better than a trash bin.

But life goes on, and the soul goes on, hopefully in a more enlightened state.

Wow! Word sure gets around. I’ve been flummoxed by the flood of friends (eek, attack of the killer alliteration bug). Thank you all– I’m still trying to sort out which user-name is whom, so if I haven’t responded properly, please forgive. In any case, I appreciate the welcome.

Today’s task was to finish revisions on the Boudica book (RAVENS OF AVALON). Now I’m trying to polish it. It has been long enough since I finished so that I have a little perspective and can actually *see* where the wording is rough. But it’s also reminding me of the angst I went through writing it, when I realized that no wave of the fantasy-writer’s wand was going to allow the Celts to win. This is the story of a war that the good guys lose. Sometimes that happens, though as 21st cen. Americans we are loathe to believe it. And sometimes the good guys do bad things, a truth that modern Americans are even more unwilling to accept. But I hope that I’ve been able to find some triumph in it all. Or at least some understanding. To do so I had to encounter the Morrigan at a deeper level than I had been willing to do before, and Her perspective is definitely on a trans-human scale.

Had a scrumptious dinner at lwood‘s, at which pentaclemoon was also present. She’s putting together the con-ribbon order list. I’ve got one– “Burn Rome!”

My dying friend seems a little better today, though still unconscious. She’s on pain meds, so waiting is probably more of a frustration to me than to her. If Winifred Hodge’s theories about soul-parts are correct, different bits may be departing at different times. We love and we learn….

Some are born bloggers, some achieve blogdom, and some have blogging forced upon them….

Kicking and screaming, or at least meeping and moaning, I have allowed

lwood

 to drag me into the great wide blogosphere. Wish me luck, everyone.

So as I understand it, this is the place to let friends know what’s going on in one’s life, which might save time checking in at future meetings, since almost everyone I know seems to be on LJ.

My editor at Viking (the good one, not the one who tried to rewrite my last book there and take out all the magical scenes) finally sent her revision requests for Ravens of Avalon just before Christmas (hahahahaha). What with one thing and another (for much of which, many of you were present), I finally got at it last week. Fortunately, her suggestions are along the lines of filling in information that got lost when I cut the MS to fit the 140,000 word length limit, improving continuity, catching logic gaps, and the like. This is the kind of editing an author needs, and appreciates if she is wise.

So I’m happy about that, and I would have it done by now, except that the friend I’ve been helping out over the past year is now in the hospital, and is not expected to live. I won’t go into details, but given the situation, this is not a bad thing– she has brain cancer, and until about two weeks ago, was not in pain, although she was growing steadily weaker. But she could not have continued to live in her apartment anyway, and didn’t want to live if that became the case.

It has been an interesting relationship. I’ve been doing her shopping and taking her to doctors’ appointments a couple of times a week, and generally serving as her external hard drive. I wrote a lot of RAVENS while sitting at the Cancer Center waiting for a treatment to start or end. Losing her will leave a hole in my life, but it will also relieve me of a heavy responsibility (well, except for dealing with her cat and her possessions). Now my job is to help her to let go, and go….a shift from support system to priestess.

Fortunately, she left directions on what she wanted done. It occurs to me to suggest that all of us who are involved in what we tactfully describe to our straight relatives as “alternative” religions should do the same. Whether or not the dead actually care, it is a great favor to the living, who are often too upset or confused by the event to think straight, and appreciate directions. A “magical will” should include directions for disposal of the body (burial or cremation? where? how?), memorial service (who conducts it, what readings, songs, etc.), and what you want done with all your ritual jewelry and magical tchotchkes (I could probably supply the entire Troth clergy program with amber). I’m going to suggest that the Fellowship of the Spiral Path post a form for this on our website and offer to keep them on file so your heir doesn’t have to figure out where you stashed the document. Maybe I can get something of the sort into Our Troth II as well.

Now all I have to do is put my money where my mouth is and write up my own…