A friend of mine was laughing over Charlie’s latest exploits and said she might start doing the 365 pictures thing (see my tag cloud) with just things that her toddler had destroyed during the day. I think any mom can easily say she’s got at least one toddler clean-up a day, so it occurred to me that I should make that a new feature on my blog. I’ll have to come up with a catchy name for it, but it’ll basically be a segment on what Charlie has destroyed each day. Charlie Angel maybe? This morning we awoke to find him floating his swim trunks in the fish tank. I have no idea where he even found them, but I think I’ll be hitting up the local Menard’s for a cheap locking doorknob for the office.
The sabbat went pretty well on Saturday, despite all of us feeling (and admitting we were) really out of practice. Imbolc is a time to prepare for the spring, though, and to make room for the changes we hope to implement. This year we’re going to practice more and be more spiritually active with ourselves and the kids. As much as I am against forcing children onto a spiritual path of any kind (let them understand the nature of spirituality first and then choose) I do want to teach my kids what we believe. Whether they participate or seek eventual initiation as they grow is up to them. I’ve said it many times, but it’s worth repeating; the craft is not for everyone. It takes a certain kind of person and a healthy respect for the world around us to practice wicca, neo paganisim, or British Traditional Witchcraft. Far too many people, in my opinion, are practicing and do not have the necessary convictions to truly bring honor to the God and Goddess. Not that my opinion matters at all in someone else’s search for truth, or that a person shouldn’t seek to commune with whatever they believe in… I just believe that manipulating energy is serious business, and can have unexpected results for the un-prepared.
Anywho, all elitist rants aside, I’m ready for the changing days. The whole Punxatawny Phil fiasco has been so commercialized I’m surprised that groundhog hasn’t died of cardiac arrest. Coming out of your burrow to a crowd of old guys with top hats and handlebar mustachios must be pretty frightening to a tiny mammal. Weather divination isn’t something you can plan and film for the news at 9. There is, however, more than one way to skin a beaver. They say that wintry cold weather on Imbolc is a sign of an early spring, and I woke up to a white world yesterday morning. It kept coming down on and off all day, and I didn’t see the sun once. So whatever beavers may have popped their heads out around here would have seen nothing but opportunity.
Good riddance, winter!