So, I am a mentor...it's an odd feeling.  Sometimes, I feel like I am still so inexperienced, who am I to tell others how to walk their path?  Other times, I feel as if I have so much knowledge to share, that I am glad of someone to hand it all over to.  I have been surprisingly coherent in my "lessons" and find inspiration in odd places.  I never know what the next lesson will be until I do it, and I just got an inspiration for the next one, concerning Imbolc.  I only hope that I am not affecting the other person in a negative way, that they truly are taking something from these practices and not just nodding & smiling at me because they think they should.  I wish we lived in the same state and not at opposite ends of the country!  Eh.....just rambling on how odd and yet right I think it all is.

I feel as if I am on the cusp of something...something strange.  Little bits and pieces of dreams float around my brain and settle at odd intervals, giving me glimpses into myself.  Just now, a picture of a cat triggered a memory of a dream that I had recently, though I don't know when, of two or three cats that I played with in this dream.  Yesterday, I remembered a dream of snakes...lots of snakes, but I don't remember the context or what I was doing, only that I dreamed of snakes.  Messages?  Symbols?  Do these have any meaning at all?  I suppose only time and meditation will tell.

I hate allergy season.  My head hurts and I feel stiff, though that may be due to the fact that Saturday night, I slept on the ground (well, in a tent).  I "camped out" at a Renaissance Festival, though I use that term loosely because these people may as well have had full blown Gypsy caravans for the amount of "roughing it" that went on.  There were portable DVD players, stoves, CD players, air mattresses, rugs in pavilions, etc.  It was pretty funny, actually.  I felt so simple with my sleeping bag, tent and bag of travel-size toiletries.

This Renaissance Fair....well, I could have crapped a better one.  Well, that's not true, it's not that it was bad, per se, it was just so incredibly small!  I traversed the entire grounds in about a half hour.  There was one cool booth with people that were selling bulk teas (all natural) and handmade soaps (something I want to try, myself).  I also bought a really cute little ring - a silver band, with some flowers and oak leaves carved into it.  Very simple, but I love it - it reminds me of my connection to nature and the Fae.  I did not go dressed up in garb, as I didn't know what to expect and I've gained a bit of weight since I last went to a Fair and can't fit into my costumes anymore, anyway.  Sad, but true.  (However, I am losing weight, so maybe this summer that will be rectified!) 

Other than that, the Fair was just so damn boring.  We were camped with some friends that are part of a historical Elizabethan fencing reenactment group, so they were working the fair.  After my friend and I had walked the fair grounds about five times, we went back to camp and sat around the fire.  And then we proceeded to do that for the next eight hours.  That was it.  We ate, we had a few beers and then we just freakin' sat there.  I didn't know that many people, so that may have contributed to my boredom, but still.....come on.  It was like hanging out at home, but no option for television, and it was just in public.  Oh ya, and it was raining on and off, so that was really exciting.  I may as well have stayed at home, I honestly don't know why I bothered to sleep over in the camp.  It was loud, there were other groups there that were running around screaming drunkenly until about three in the morning, and then when we all woke up, what did we do?  Sit around the campfire for three more hours.....joy.  So, once everyone was up and I could say goodbye, I left.  It sucked - what a disappointment.

I feel very renewed for some reason, lately.  I have had a great week so far, but for a crappy reason.  My grandmother died just last week, exactly two months after my birthday.  It hit me harder than I thought it would, as she was 100 years old and had been quite sick for a couple of years.  It wasn't a surprise, but I grieved quite heavily. 

So, due to that, I got three days off of work for bereavement.  I wanted to fly home to try and make the funeral and be with my family, but it was prohibitively expensive.  So, I spent three days at home with my unemployed boyfriend and we had a great time.  We went to Pennsy, we went to the movies, we hung out as we have not been able to do in a long time (due to just life and junk).  Also, interacting with my stepson makes me feel better about my grandmother's death, in a way.  He is still a baby, and so it just reinforces the idea of the cycle of death / life.  The Celts always started with night and with death, rather than birth as most cultures do.  To them, death was the doorway and through it, birth and rebirth were achieved.  My faith has really helped to prop me up during this time and I know my beloved ancestors were waiting on the other side for her, to help her join the ranks of the Beloved Dead and guide her so that she would not be alone or afraid.

After all the crying, the time off, the praying to my gods and whatnot, I feel cleansed for some reason.  I mean, I really feel okay about her death, I feel that she has truly gone to a place where she is happier and the degeneration of her body no longer holds back her razor sharp tongue (LOL).  She was quite sassy in her day and I feel she is laughingly berating me, watching over me, inspiring me to go back to school and finally finish.

Grandmother - thank you.  I love you.

I need to write this somewhere before I forget.  I have been so lax in my journals, it's been months and months since I've written in them.  I don't really know what the reason for that is, but I am trying again which is all that matters.

Yesterday, S. and I went to Deep Cut park for a meditation on the Gorse ogham, so that we could move on to the next (Silver Fir).  Due to junk going on in our lives, it had been so long since I had even thought of the Gorse, let alone studied the plant or the symbol, so I had no expectations of what this meditation would hold.  I didn't even think it would be strong or that I would receive any messages, due to my lack of concentration on the subject.  However, I was pleasantly surprised on a couple of fronts when I sat down and closed my eyes.  We settled in a small clearing off the direct path, underneath the young Hawthorn trees with their leaves that look like dinosaur foot prints.  We sat across from each other comfortably and embarked on our separate meditations, to learn whatever the Gorse might teach us.  I felt strongly rooted to the Earth in a way that is not usual for me - more physical than mental.  I concentrated on the name of the plant, chanting it silently and then moved on to the symbol for Gorse (a vertical line crossed by two horizontal lines).  As I thought of the symbol, I saw it turn on its side like a bridge, but that wasn't quite right.  One side tilted upward, like a short ladder, and that struck me as correct.  I imagined someone climbing the ladder, going from something negative to a higher, more positive place and the phrase "a helping hand" popped into my head.  I imagined a hand reaching down to help the person on the ladder (because you need to know when to ask for help) and it was the Dagda.  I saw his smiling countenance like a friendly everyday Santa and as he helped me up (for I had become the person on the ladder), he wrapped me in a great hug and kissed me on the head - and then he effectively told me to scoot. 

 So, the lesson I have taken from the Gorse is not only of new beginnings and a clean slate, but also of moving on to a positive place, possibly with the help of family or good friends.  I would never have thought of this on my own, but the Dagda was a perfect correlation for this ogham.  Not only is gorse burned in the spring to make way for new growth (hence the association with new beginnings), but it is also abundant in pollen (I hear that gorse honey is very popular) and the bruised shoots are used to feed horses - so there is also a connection to abundance and nurturing.  The Dagda has his never-emptying cauldron and is also somewhat of a father figure, so nurturing and abundance definitely fall in line there.  However, he also had his great club and was seen as a great warrior, who could figuratively smash the old negative habits and ways to make way for new, more positive things. 

 It's odd that so far, I have gotten a god correlation for every Ogham we've studied.  Granted, we've only studied four so far, but it was never something I intended or expected.  It will be interesting to see if that trend continues, as there are 20 ogham symbols and I don't think I know of 20 Irish gods.  For the Yew, Sheela na Gig came to me; for the White Poplar, it was Ogma; for the Heather, it was sweet Brighid, and now for the Gorse it was Dagda.  I am excited to see how this journey progresses.