Life is F*cking Annoying

Hey, no one can be positive and deep all the time.  Something I’ve been reminded of this week.

I know to the bone that not all is good and wonderful, but I’m not sure that is always conveyed in this blog. 

I do try to keep to a healthy view of life.  Which means I work on not holding excessively to negative feelings or in other words venting is good.  There are limits to this.  Venting or ranting all the time is bad.  Why?  Because it gives your body too many stress hormones, it fools you into thinking that your world is more horrific than it is, it makes you a miserable bitch to be around.  It’s a straight way to lose friends and alienate people. 

Venting or ranting in the moment to express how you’re honestly feeling, that’s healthy.  Though watch your environment, not all places are suitable for ranting.

And I do rant.  Oh, how I do.  I get so much fodder and on such a regular basis that it’s a necessary regular component of life.  But I realized when I started this particular post that I have never ranted within this blog.  Mind you, I can’t typically get into details given the other people involved and privacy considerations, but dammit cranky is as much an honest emotion as the sweet joy of spiritual enlightenment. 

This week has been a mess of stupidity.  Under foot, over head, through spoken, written and electronic means. 

What is my spiritual take on this?

That sometimes you need to get tough, get bitchy, and use the force of idiocy-induced-aggravation to fuel the boundary setting and problem solving.  As with all things, there’s a balance.  In this case, the polite and helpful (typically the best way to get things done) has needed to be counterbalanced by the tough attitude and the word “no”. 

Can you believe that Neptune, Uranus and Jupiter are all retrograde right now?  I can. 


Hello attic!

By city decree the storage room created by the previous owners of my apartment must be turned back into attic space.  This was not the most fun thing on the planet.  It did make for some good pictures at the end, though.

First came the getting rid of things.  Purge, baby, purge.  Not in my nature, but I’ve done well.  Then came the day of good friends and much workness.

We got the old icky insulation bagged up.

I rather liked this action shot:

It all fit in the elevator, too:

Really, it could have been much worse.  That’s what I need to remember.  😉

And then there was the end of work and enjoying the endness of it.  Must record these moments for posterity.

And now the big reveal.  Here is the attic-that-was-previously-a-storage-room.  Just imagine how much stuff I could have (and did have!) in there.  I am proud to say that my apartment looks essentially unchanged by the absorption of that which didn’t get given or tossed away.  We are nearing the end of the saga.  Just need to have the inspection and then it is all done.  Yay?

Do you have sad dreams?

Last night I dreamt and while the details both don’t matter and are difficult to remember, what did stay with me and is important is a strong and lingering feeling of sadness. 

I don’t remember the last time I dreamt and felt sad in the dream.  I’m assuming it must have happened at some point, but I honestly don’t remember when.  I’ve been scared in dreams, happy, often emotionally easy-going.  But not sad.  It feels weird.

I would love to hear from you, do you have sad dreams?  Are they often?  Or not?  Do they linger into your day?  How do you feel about them after?  Or do they just get forgotten?

This experience has made me curious.

Rain! no Sun! No Rain! No, wait, sun. Ah, no, that would be rain. Except, oh yes, back to sun.

My life is like the weather.

Our weather here.

We had a slow start in the Lower Mainland (of British Columbia) to summer this year.  The days were cold, the weather dreary.  I rather loved it.

Finally the sun came!

Oh, but then there was rain.  And then sun.  Then back to rain.  These days we start with overcast and potentially rainy and finish with sunny.  Mostly.

You’d think the weather fey were confused or something.

Sure, realistically, it probably has more to do with the volcano eruption earlier this year than with unseen metaphysical or mythical (depending on your viewpoint) creatures, but it’s still been all over the place annoying.

Rather like my mood.  It’s up!  It’s down! It’s, oh, wait.  No, my mood hasn’t been that erratic.  Especially once you factor in the pms hormones.  Which must be factored in upon the pain of agonizing dismemberment and long-delayed death (why on earth would people say death and dismemberment?  the only real threat in dismemberment is to do it before the person dies.  Really, the logic failures that happen in standard phrases, it’s disheartening).

But while my mood hasn’t been quite so quick to change as the weather has, it still meanders from one side of the emotion pole to the other.  With stable periods and quick shifts and constant change in a background of familiarity.

What does it all come back to?  And thank you, Patrick, for reminding me of why we suffer through such pain (see previous post “Dissatisfaction”).  It’s because we’re here to live.

And strangely, living isn’t always happy, easy, joyful.

Sometimes it’s agonizing, idiotic and disgusting.

This is a good thing.  Like the weather, if our moods only had one flavour, one expression, then the rest of our existence, from body to psyche, would start to fail (if weather was only sunny, plants would die, if only rainy, they would drown and again die).  In my opinion.  And phrased that way because it works particularly well with the weather analogy.  But it’s still true.  If we were in a matrix, whole crops of human batteries would be lost if the matrix was made to be happy 24/7.  🙂

You know it’s a good day when you can use a movie reference in your blog.

Hello, sunbeam! (yes, one just came out).  Guess it’s time to get back to living.  Oh, right, that would be working, given that the lunch hour’s nearly over.

May the weather of your life leave you healthy, flourishing and well-nourished just like a healthy forest or field.

~Abysmal Witch.

Wandering at Williams Park

What a beautiful day for a walk.  The sun is shining but the heat is in the happy bearable range.  The wind is brushing skin but not trying to take out weak trees (that was a couple of days ago, what a windstorm!).  It was time for another walk through childhood memories.

Williams Park was a huge favourite growing up.  Sure, it had big, wide open spaces, but far more importantly, it had (and has) a creek that is the perfect wading depth for children.

Or adults for that matter.

Yes, I took that picture while standing in the middle of the creek and I can honestly say that the water was wonderfully cool.

I wandered up through the hilly parts and found trees:

And of course trees have leaves:

And some of the leaves were in front of other leaves:

And then there were the different looking leaves (wild rhododendrum?):

Then it was back down to the many trails along the side of the creek and into the bushes.  A little too into the bushes in some cases, but that’s okay.

Lucky for me, I got the chance to embrace my love of water AND my love of roots.  Life is good.

Now if you flip the perspective of water then roots to roots then water, you get something more like this:

I also found some lovely big mushrooms growing on stumps:

And baby mushrooms inside of a stump:

I even found some lovely spiderwebs, such as this one:

Alas, it was time to leave, a final walk back up the path to the car I went:

This park is such a beautiful place, I really must remember to go back more often.  Funny how when we return to things and places and people we enjoy, that we’ve spent too long away from, that we have that experience of ‘I really should do this/see them/go here more often’.  Why don’t we?

Why don’t we fill our lives with things we enjoy this much?

Is it because when we do do things we enjoy all the time that the specialness drifts away as familiarity grows?

Or are we so lost in the day to day practical that we forget to embrace the day to day joys?

I really hope it’s the first.

~Abysmal Witch

To Grandmother’s House…and More

The quasi-occasional-nostalgic nature of my holidays continued today with a trip up to Chilliwack, the once upon a time home of my grandmother.  She passed away many summer solstices ago, but memories of her stay with me.

I haven’t been back there in probably almost twenty years and her house hasn’t really changed, except for more weeds in the yard and stuff in the driveway (she didn’t own a car, for instance).  But it looked well cared for.

But of course going into the house wasn’t really an option or checking out the old garden in the back so instead it was across the street to the park that we played at so very often when we were kids.

Unfortunately, all of the playground equipment I played with is gone and replaced with new-fangled stuff.  And some swings, but since I didn’t want to scare the young lady looking after two kids (why is that crazy tattooed lady hanging around the playground taking pictures while MY kids are here?!?), it was a short, but nostalgically happy visit.

From here it was off to Bridal Veil Falls, just a few minutes past Chilliwack on the freeway.  We went there often as a fun thing to do when visiting grandma.  We would take a picnic and the family (minus my father who was off playing golf most times) and go up to the falls, have a lovely meal and then take the short but so very vertical walk up to the falls.

The walk begins through trees and ferns, the sound of the waterfall above muted by the forest.

The first part of the walk?  Not so bad.  Sure it’s up and I’ve gotten lazy since the knee problems but it’s relatively short and pretty is always a nice distraction.

And then you get towards the bottom of the falls and look up and WOW.

Sure, there are bigger falls.  But how many can you walk all the way up  to?  There’s something lovely about these ones and maybe it’s just because of my childhood memories, but then again, she had a lot of admirers today so perhaps it’s not just me.

Naturally all of this water made trickles and mist and puddles everywhere.  And I like getting in close with the camera for the great texture shots.

It was just about time to head back down the hill? mountainside? well, whatever you call it, I got in a few more shots before my camera battery died and I started the great descent (jk), and here is my final picture of the day to share with you.  It may just be my favourite from the day.

All childhood memories should have such wonderful continuity and gloriously sunny days to explore them in.  It doesn’t always work that way, sometimes the memories are buried under a Kwik-E-Mart but sometimes pieces from our past continue to exist in ways we can re-explore in our present.  I think grabbing hold of those moments, reflecting back into childhood from a now perspective and enjoying both together is a fantastic gift we give ourselves.  I hope you get to enjoy something similar this summer.

~Abysmal Witch


Yes, I’m afraid there’s no deep meaningful title, no alluring phrase when it comes to a day at the beach.  It simply is.  Wonderful, windy, wet, dirty, smelly and glorious.

This is the beach of my childhood:  White Rock beach, so named for the massive white rock at one end near the pier.  These days it’s painted white (damn graffiti artists!) but I’m old enough to remember when it was naturally white.  Well, whiteish.  It’s much more striking of a white these days.  Paint helps.

Naturally, a stroll of the beach was required, getting wet all the way up the legs, but hey, that’s why I wore shorts.  There’s more seaweed than I remember.  Even the rocks are coated.

Amongst the seaweed and crab legs and shells, I also happened to spy a jellyfish floating along (I tended to assume it was dead, but I’ve never seen one that big so up close).  Please excuse my hand in the picture, I’m not as good with the camera when I’m wearing sunglasses.

Then it was time to stop for lunch which earned me some very intense local interest.

I had to share.  Well, at least the fries.  The fish was mine!  Fish and chips from Moby Dick‘s right along the waterfront in White Rock. Highly recommend it.  Though when you ask for one piece, you get two, ask for two, get three, etc.  so be prepared. It took only seconds from when I sat down before I had a congregation of hope surrounding me.  Naturally this led to some in-fighting.

After lunch it was time for a little spell working.  Just a simple spell of marking my intention into the sand and letting the incoming tide release the spell.

I had meant to take a picture of the tide claiming the spell but alas, the tide was too quick for me and my sunny day distraction.  It wasn’t long after this, though, that I came across a young woman doing pretty near the same thing though I doubt she was thinking along the lines of spellwork when she did it.  How many wishes have been laid in the sand and offered up to the gods and goddesses of the sea?

And so my day at the beach came to a close as must this post.  Here is my final picture of the day.  I hope you enjoy.


Cleaning! Cleaning?

Yes, I’ve been cleaning.  This is not what I would call a typical thing for this witch. Or even a happy thing.  Now I would say that it is a good thing.  A clean home is a wonderful thing and the first thing we do when casting a magical circle is to cleanse the space, but yet, cleaning, it’s a torturous and evil thing.

And yet, here I am, on a lovely, if rainy, Saturday afternoon, cleaning.  And considering it a good thing. Of course, my intention and my great moving forward and getting things done attitude has been slowed by my slipping into the internet world and writing this post.

Hmmmm, suggests a certain discrepency between my stated intention for the day and my actions, doesn’t it?  And that would be my signal to get back at it.

And I am.  Getting back at it, that is.  Yes, yes I am.  Can’t you tell?

I really am!

Right this second, even.

Well, right after I post this.

And this, dear friends, is what procrastination looks like in written form….

Getting older

I’m sitting here, updating my facebook status and very proudly stating how much I am looking forward to staying home tonight.  And eventually the thought kicks in:  when the Hel did I start looking forward to staying in at night instead of going out?!?!?  How old am I?

Okay, sure, there’s the difference of having my own home that I adore rather than living at my parent’s place, that’s certainly a…what’s the opposite of deterent?…an incentive for staying home, or at least in a certain way a distinct invitation.  But it’s not like when I moved in here I suddenly spent every night at home.

Have I gotten too old?  I mean, I know I can’t drink the way I used to – on the up side, it takes very little to make me happy so there’s no need to.  But I know I don’t like staying up until 4 in the morning, not as a rule anymore.  Perhaps I am getting too old.

Or maybe it’s just the overwhelming busyness of the rest of living, having to be out and about and doing so very much of the time, that getting the opportunity to relax at home with a book or a movie and a cuddle (with cat or man, either way or preferably both) has become the unusual and therefore strongly appealing desire.

Or maybe I’m just trying to find excuses for turning into a fuddy duddy.

Sigh.  It’s probably the last point.  Where’s my cane?