Tuesday, March 12, 2013

It is what it is: in which Walhydra considers re-entering the blogosphere

Walhydra isn't certain that she can be "Walhydra" anymore.

When she first entered the blogosphere in 2006, there was no question. She was in a workshop on Social Software in the Libraries the day that Miso the Cat died, and she discovered that she wanted a public outlet for both her immediate grief and her chronic grouchiness. Almost seven years later, things aren't so simple.

In January of 2011, Walhydra's mother, Senior Witch, eased out of this world. In January of this year, Walhydra's father, the Lutheran pastor, did the same.

Landing Crow

Death sits always on Walhydra’s shoulder now like an awkward acquaintance, one whom you understand and spend time with privately, yet whom you are unsure how to introduce to friends.

Death has, in fact, been an underlying though oft unmentioned theme throughout the years of this blog. Walhydra’s own origins are in the mid-1990s gathering of a cyberspace Pagan sisterhood centered around the Crone and her awful awareness of life and death commingled. In some curious way, as Walhydra recalls, she seems to have been waiting ever since her early 20s to become the Old Man she now is starting to be.

[Note: For Walhydra’s carelessness about gender, see Crippled Wolf.]

In any case, during those last years of Senior Witch’s life, Walhydra hurt too much to tell sardonically humorous stories about herself and her observations. Even her spirit-twin, Crippled Wolf, was open only to the necessary descriptions of those years.

There hasn’t seemed to be a way to laugh about death…so Walhydra has floundered.

Oh, well. Goddess knows, you have to crawl out from under the bed sometime.

And so it is.

Bless├Ęd be,
Michael Bright Crow


Anonymous said...

Dearest One,

I very much wanted to attend a lecture here in town by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross on death and dying in the mid-seventies when I was 12. Moder thought I was too young. That desire turned into a deep interest in the Deep Mystery. And, death & dying have been keen interests and companions ever since.

Someone once said to me, "Knowing you may be hazardous to one's health," as so many persons in my life transitioned. One person attended Quaker meeting until meeting me, then died a few days later. Her last act was to check on me to make sure I was doing okay before she took her leave. We do that for one another, dancing among lifetimes as we do.

Making "friends" with transitioning - dying - (to quote Andrew Wyeth) "gives you something you can't get any other way." I try to live open to transitioning at any moment. And yet, I try, also, to live open to growing into being "a pisser of an old Quaker womun" as a friend noted. Being open to transitioning at any moment gives life an "aliveness" and a sense of "now-ness." Being open to reincarnation and rebirth makes much more sense than what Christianity usually pedals as "heaven and hell." Walhydra, all this is what you love about me.

Gentle blessings,

Anonymous said...

From "The Florida Star" March 9, 2013, page 3 "It's Little Meechie"

Deaconess Shaw was testing the children in her Sunday school class to see if they all understood the concept of getting to heaven.

So she asked them, "If I sold my house and my car, had a big garage sale and gave all my money to the church, would that get me into Heaven?"

"NO!" all the children answered.

"If I cleaned the church every day, mowed the yard, and kept everything neat and tidy, would that get me into Heaven?"

Again, the answer was, "NO!"

Now she was smiling. Hey, they're getting it, she thought! "Well, then, if I was kind to animals and gave candy to all the children, and loved my husband, would that get me into Heaven?" she asked.

Again, they all answered, "NO!"

She was just bursting with pride for them. "Well," she continued, "Then how can I get into Heaven?"

A then five-year-old Lil Meechie stood up and shouted out, "YOU GOTTA BE DEAD!"...Duh!


Another statement that amuses and bemuses me was made by the European American Catholic priest and poet, Daniel Berrigan: "If you want to follow Jesus, you better look good on wood."

Gentle blessings,