De-noue-ment

A final part in which everything is made clear and no questions or surprises remain.



Today is the new moon accompanied by a solar eclipse, a perfect time to finally and completely let go of The Gold Poppy.

I've spent the last few days reviewing the archives, blasting away nine hundred and twelve superfluous posts. Including this final entry, I've narrowed down The Gold Poppy to eighty six posts - a nice number - cohesive, because the posts are split between 2006 and 2007 (not intentionally). Even funnier is that in restaurant parlance, eighty six means "no more." I wasn't trying for this perfect number, but it worked out that way anyway. What a hoot.

K.O.B. of DCBlogs says that when a person writes a book, it's obvious when it's completed, but in blogging, the end is never clear. I feel so thankful I knew exactly when to stop, that I was able to make the decision so quickly. And even though I didn't believe my friend Hammer when he said it wouldn't take long to let go of the habit of this blog, he was right.

I never spent a lot of time actually writing, but now that I've stopped, I suddenly understand how much energy I put into this, how much thought and focus I devoted to each post du jour. I have so much more juice now for other projects and pursuits! Honestly, I'm astonished. Astonishing, too, was the deconstruction, a task that allowed me to understand the contour of the blog. I never intended it this way, but nevertheless it's true that The Gold Poppy tracked very specifically my evolution away from witchcraft and from my ties to San Francisco. That process is now complete. Onwards and upwards.

This isn't the end of my career as a blogger - oh no! But it is definitely the end of this blog which I am now completely happy to pack away forever. I'll keep my Blogger I.D. so I can visit and comment elsewhere, and, for the time being, I'm going to leave the eighty six "essential" Gold Poppy posts in place - just because.

With loving farewells, kisses and hugs, from me and from Jake: Bye now!

Ghost of the Gold Poppy

I've got one more post to write, and still about 500 to delete - but that's less than half of what I originally published. Then I'll be done.

I'm cheating by publishing this one, but the vid is just so perfect.

Turning a Corner

Three years ago I started this blog. Wow. In blog years that's about a century. I've written faithfully almost every day, met other bloggers, "met" still other bloggers, and had a blast.

Strangely, and all of a sudden, I realize I am finished with blogging, at least with The Gold Poppy, at least for now. It has been a pleasure and an honor to partake of this online social history project. And it's been a thrill to know you are out there having a look at my pics and reading my stories du jour. Thank you!



But the time has come, and there's no use denying it, to shift my creative rhythm, whether that means more work with the photos, a different way of writing, a different blog or something else. Who knows?

The one thing I clearly understand is that it's time to stop. Right now. Bye bye ya'all and kiss kiss!

THE FEATHER OF PROOF

An age-wide thicket of seconds nudge
me, snag me, slow me: I’m burning back
dream-chaparral from the country of days, smudge
sun-up and sundown with this shaman’s sack
as we smoke out what’s unchanging from time.
Mirror, metal, glass and spark cache infinite
kindling—every surface, texture, rhyme,
the hot-carbon bone-baked elegy of minutes
ticking and cooling, snap-crackle-pop RGB
coals cleared from yesterday’s soot
by a gust of chained moments blown free,
pixels drifting around time’s buried root—
look: as the winged iris shutters and tracks
unsequenced grace, where nothing lacks.

By Lori Witzel of Chatoyance

Just Beyond the Crossroads

Not only was there an eclipsed full moon up there in the sky this week, but a grand cross, too! A whole bunch of planets, including the sun and moon, arranged themselves into a hulkin' dude of a grand square or grand cross, something astrologers consider to be extremely powerful as well as challenging, difficult and -well- just plain old hard to traverse.

An astrological grand cross places us puny humans at the center of a huge X, crossroads, crosshairs or however you wish to imagine it. The pressure is on, during a grand cross, to take a strong stand, change direction, or at least gather some much needed wisdom. (Wisdom is always gained the hard way, at least I think so.) So, no wonder the buzz from the sky has been so loud and unyielding! No wonder the weird dreams, the queasy stomach. No wonder! Sheesh!

Today the grand cross is beginning to break up, the moon has passed its fullest point and at least for me, those changes bring with them into my perception a softness and sense of relief that seems able to permeate everything. Internal? External? What the difference? On my walk this morning I noticed so many nice, soft plant and tree textures, cloud textures, too. The streets were so quiet except for the crickets and tree frogs. The air was soft, but not too hot. Ahhhhhh!



With that relief comes the bewildering sense of what next? In fairy tales, the heroes often meet up with old wise women or men at the crossroads. These wise old people offer advice, and though sometimes it's in the form of a puzzle or riddle, at least there's help available for the directionally challenged. Even Dorothy, in the Wizard of Oz, finds the straw man at the crossroads. Just like the wise men and women in all fairy tales, he pretends to be dumb, even though he's really the smartest of all of them. But he gets them out of there, onwards and upwards to their destination.

So, OK, back to "real" life. Just a day ago, we citizens of planet Earth stood in the center of the big X, endured the energetics of the grand cross and the eclipsed full moon, weathered sleepless nights (sorry Pod!) and strange dreams, familial discussions, and stomach ailments. OK. But ... now what?

The one thing I understand about crossroads of all types is that trying to retrace my steps back the way I came never works at all. Staying at the center of the cross is just ridiculous, too. There's an important story about a guy who chose to hang there in the center of the cross, for everyone else's benefit, the story goes. It was not pleasant for him. The truth is, no one can tolerate those energies very long. So is it straight ahead? To the left? To the right?



Thank goodness the heavenly bodies are always in motion, which means, as long as I put one foot in front of the other, my path is, in a certain sense, already set out for me. I am a cyclic being living in a cyclic universe, so just keep moving along, Reya. All roads lead to the Emerald City, as it turns out. For me that looks like continuing to look at potential office space for my practice, organizing logistical details for the Reiki level I class in October, and getting the letter I've written to my clients into the mail.

And on and on to the next crossroads. I guess!

A Crazy Moon

All full moons create a buzzy energy field of ... something ... (hard to describe that something) that people and animals have understood forever. Oh ye lovely skeptics out there, you too are feeling the fullness of this particular moon, whether you believe in buzzy energy fields or not. Police know about it, emergency room personnel, teachers, too, because they encounter the effects every month. The rest of us assign the edgy energy or momentary lunacy to hormones or situations at work, relationship issues, traffic jams, whatever. Those of us who cultivate relationships with the moon know exactly where to lay the blame or where to offer our thanks (depending on how the lunar energy manifests).

It took me many years to get used to the energy of full moons. I was born at the dark of the moon, a peaceful time cosmically, which might be why full moons were always difficult to tolerate, like being forced to listen to two radio stations at the same time. I learned to love my dear Luna in her manic fullness one year at witchcamp when I "drew down" the moon. Witches do it all the time, but I had never tried since Reclaiming was mostly solar-holiday oriented. It was a very powerful experience I will never forget, and never do again, probably. But the ritual helped me learn how to mediate the wild surf of full moon energy. I'm grateful I did it.



I received my Reiki master initiation at the new moon, an astrological position that was absolutely perfect for me. Now, two weeks on, I'm feeling the passionate tugs and pulls of the full - and eclipsed - moon. It's mostly cloudy here in DC, so no chance to tune into it visually, but it's not necessary. I feel it.

All my favorite astrologers say that eclipses magnify and add intensity to everything, an intensity that resonates for days and weeks before and afterwards. That seems right to me.



I know I always say I never do witchcraft anymore, but I should say I rarely do it, since I will be doing a little ritual today, out of respect for these recent weeks of letting go and receiving. It's a ritual of gratitude. What I have planned will be more of a salute than a real working. It's a tribute to this moon that accompanied the reiki master energy into my hands, heart and body, while literally pushing old negative thought patterns and false loyalties all the way out of my mind and heart, too. Wow. This moon deserves some respect!

Today's ritual is also a tribute to the dragons. DC's underground dragon has been in a mood the last couple of days, filling the Metro tunnels with smoke, closing down every line of the subway Sunday night and many of them again last night. The Chinese believed eclipses were caused by the dragons; I trust that. The timing is just too perfect. OK, the Metro officlals are looking for "real" world conditions that lead to all this smoke, and so they should.

All hail the dragons! All hail the mighty moon! As soon as the ritual is over, I'm going to duck into the kitchen and cook something comforting and easy to digest for dinner. Magic followed by common sense. That's my day today. How will you negotiate your way through the eclipse?

High Altitude Attunements

Asheville, North Carolina is like Calistoga in Northern California - with pine trees, minus the grapes. It's like Telluride, Colorado, except without the pretentiousness, though it has just as many fancy restaurants. The landscape itself reminds me of the feeling I've had when I've been in Wales (I've only seen a little bit of Wales). More than any other comparison, I think Asheville is a lot like Glastonbury in Somerset County, England. Really.

Asheville has the healing vibration, the springs that bring water up from mysterious crystal filled caves somewhere deep underfoot. It has a wild magic in the mountains all around it - really wild magic that feels like it could generate legends as powerful as the Arthurian myths that arose from the Chalice Well and Glastonbury Tor. Downtown Asheville is charming, historic, full of artsy people aglow with vibrant good health, older folks who are happy and active, a million bodyworkers and a bunch of dusty old hippies who are foggy - but gentle and happy - perhaps resulting from decades of dope smoking. There's a little square where people gather to drum and dance. Shops are full of crystals, Buddha heads, Tibetan singing bowls and colorful clothing. Young people sit around on the sidewalk in groups, bedecked, smoking cigarettes, comparing tattoos, talking about music or art.



Just as I've heard from anyone who has ever been there, Asheville is a magic location swirling with enticing energies. It has a glamour for sure. Even so, contrary to what a few of my friends thought might happen, I wasn't overcome with the urge to move there immediately. It's a sublime feng shui up there that brings a lot of people to their knees. The next thing they know, they're packing up and moving. It's compelling, but not that compelling to me. I loved it, though, and I will return to visit. That I'm sure of.

Asheville's tremendous glamour was not the only thing that put stars in my eyes. Those of us working on Reiki mastership, including the teacher as well as my fellow initiate, wove ourselves together into a triad of energetic perfection, a grid of openness and warmth into which the Reiki flowed with elegance and power.

Within every initiation I've experienced, (and I've been through quite a few), there are always snags along the way, moments of confusion, times when it's hard to locate the flow of energy. What I loved about those moments over this past weekend was the good humor and grace with which we negotiated the twists and turns that are inevitable in any transformative process. I am so grateful.



It was a glorious weekend. I'm home, unpacked, showered, and glad to see Jake, of course, though I admit a part of me lingers up there still. Usually I try to bring all my energy with me wherever I go, but not this time. Jumping off Cloud Nine without a parachute would no doubt be quite traumatic. I might contract a case of spiritual Bends or something, don't you think?

Oh yeah, it'll be awhile before I understand all that this past weekend was about. In the meantime, all I can say - not unlike what the crusty Asheville hippies would say - is wow.

A Geometry of Confusion

Until I got the hang of this crazy city - a process that took many months - I got lost almost constantly. I'm an excellent navigator, but not here. Based on how often people ask me for directions, I'm guessing I'm not the only one to have experienced Masonic DC Disorientation Dissorder (MDCDD).

The layout of the streets is utterly confusing, but why? One theory of mine is that the Masonic pattern for what was once called Washington City doesn't fit this landscape. It was more than a practical design the Masons had in mind for the capital. I'm certain they put some serious magic into it, hoping energy would flow in a very particular way here. The shapes built into the design - the inverted pyramid, for instance, can not have been a random decision. (The White House is the top, Logan and Dupont Circles are the "feet.") The way they placed the Capitol exactly oriented to the four directions, and brought the four quarters of the city together at the precise center of the rotunda - well, that must have been significant to a bunch of guys who worshipped "The Great Architect." I'm not just talking about Pierre L'Enfant, you know. George Washington, too, was a 31st degree Grand Master. He's got his own temple in Alexandria, Virginia, up on a hill. You can see it from miles away. Many of our country's founding fathers were a part of the secret society. You can only imagine what they were up to.

One thing I know is that the Masons didn't trust the accuracy of compasses for the design of the city - they mapped the streets precisely, using the stars as their guide. Aligning the pattern with the sky really packed a wallop! Even now, as the American empire begins its long fall, you can still feel the founding fathers' magic. It's so strong, in fact, that trying to work contemporary magic here is really tricky. Most rituals end up feeding the energy grid as it already exists, even if the intention is to do something quite different. Those Masons knew their magic. It is powerful still.



It's also true that the buzzy Masonic grid of streets and parks is layered over earlier Indian settlement paths, whose patterns are layered over the swamp itself. Think about it. It's no wonder this city does not sit comfortably on the land, and that so many of the people who live here, especially those who come to represent their constituencies elsewhere, get stuck, flail hard and accomplish very little. It's crazy here.

The easiest way to negotiate the city is by Metro. Get underneath the clashing patterns, and suddenly navigation is so easy. Walking is OK, though sometimes quite confusing. But the normal Joe should think twice before getting behind the wheel of a car unless he's got a flawless internal compass.

A few of the most difficult areas to negotiate are the circles with their radiating spokes of streets, anywhere around Arlington Cemetary and its twin across the river, the Lincoln Monument, as well as within the neighborhood of Capitol Hill itself. All the streets in the vicinity of the White House lead you away from where you're trying to go, no matter your destination. Around the Pentagon, across the river, it's just as confounding. I'm sure there are other areas of old Washington City that are equally disorienting. I'm thinking about how hard it is to get on Rock Creek Parkway, but I can't lay that on the Masons. I blame the bizarre energy in and around Rock Creek Park on the resident elementals who would really prefer all humans and especially cars, to stay out.



Though I've read a lot about the design of this city, and have worked directly with the patterns in many ways, (almost never successfully I should add - as I defined success), I'm no closer to understanding what the Masons were trying to accomplish than I was all those years ago when I was so sure I could figure it out.

Many people think the design was meant to convey power and superiority. The perfect diamond shape and precise size of the city (10 square miles, with the four corners set exactly at the cardinal directions) was supposed to make the city unconquerable. I can believe some of that, definitely, but it doesn't explain everything, especially when I remember how quickly Virginia took her land back (in order to maintain slavery in the Commonwealth). In an instant, the perfect diamond was broken. Could the Masons have ever imagined the city was destined to be "conquered" from the inside out? That diamond was meant to endure.



There's also a lot of prose out there about Washington being the city of Satan because the Masons were Satan worshippers - were they? Some people extend the Masonic pyramid east and west so that the pattern becomes an inverted pentacle, but it's a stretch, at least to my eye. It's not a precise pentacle which leads me to believe this is not a Masonic idea. Theirs would have been perfect.

Everybody has a theory about the Masons. Many of these theories have nothing to do with the others. For instance, somebody wrote a book at the end of the 19th century called Freemasonry: The Synagogue of Satan. Honestly you can not make this stuff up. The book alleged that the Masons were all Jews, because the Kabbalah is part of Masonic study, which proves that ... blah blah blah. You see how convoluted things get when people with personal agendas try to pierce through to the mysteries? For heaven's sake.



The Masons kept their magical secrets to themselves. Though people are still initiated into the organization, I believe the original magic has been lost over time. It's possible we'll never really know what they were thinking. Maybe it's best that way.

Nothing lasts forever. In spite of all their mysterious exertions when they created Washington DC, our founding fathers could not, after all, create a city that would rule the world. But they sure put a serious spin into the design. It's a thrilling design, it's a confounding design, it's a powerful design that is just one more thing that makes this city so incredible. A toast to Dizzy DC on the hottest day of 2007. Cheers!