Good News

Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. The good news is- you don't know how great you can be. How much you can love! What you can accomplish! And what your potential is!

~Anne Frank

Sacrifice

Thanksgiving has always held mixed emotions for me. On one side, I love the togetherness it instills in people- the need to be with family, connected not by gifts, (as is often the case with Yule) but with the need to be grateful for something- each other.

On the other hand...

Native Americans do not look at this day as we do. A few hundred years ago, a handful of the native peoples of this continent gave- selflessly- of themselves and the land to sustain a huddling mass of Pilgrims. These ex-patriots had arrived, they were starving, and out of the goodness of their hearts, the Native Americans did something about it. Years later, the repayment for this act of kindness would be high treason.

I had nothing to do with it. My grandparents came over from Poland and set up a bakery in New York City. They weren't the ones breaking promises and spilling blood. But it still makes me uncomfortable to think about it.

The Native Americans gave the ultimate sacrifice. They gave of their homes and their land- their traditions and their beautiful religion. They gave until there was nothing left, and then they still gave.

Thanksgiving is not a nameless holiday. It may be lost in all of our turkey-talk and parades, but the origin is still there under all the rubble. Take it up- dust it off. Look at it- if you can.



"The Trail of Tears" was a painting that was repeated in every single one of my history books, growing up. It was in my first grade one. I remember seeing that painting, when I was so small, and feeling an overwhelming sadness within me. I wanted to change their fate. I made up stories for each person in the painting, and gave them all happy endings. Perhaps, in that tiny act, I was adding a bit of positive energy to it. In the end, I certainly don't think it hurt.

As Pagans, it is our responsibility to honor the earth and each other. On this Thanksgiving, then, give a kind thought to the keepers of the land, long before our time. Above all... be grateful for them.

We haven't forgotten where this beautiful country came from. And I, most certainly, honor it.

~*~

Light a virtual candle in gratitude of the beautiful legacy the First Nations have left us.

Grateful

I'm quite sick at the moment. It's almost noon, and the *concept* of food makes me queasy. Drinking WATER makes me queasy. And all I can think about is my addiction to lip balm and the fact that I haven't any and the fact that my lips are all sorts of chapped. And I'm sneezing alot. Whine, whine, whiiiiiiiiine.

But Thanksgiving is here in two days! Yay for gratitude! (It's times like these when I'm supposed to get extra points for my optimistic attitude.)

Pagans are a notoriously grateful breed. At least... we try to be. Living in the moment has all sorts of advantages... especially when viewed from a grateful heart. However, we are still- sadly- human. We curse at the can opener, really bad drivers, computers and coffee makers. We may be just *that* much closer to enlightenment of some sort, but that doesn't make life any easier.

So then why the gratitude? Yule is coming! The days grow shorter, and we see less and less of our own bright star. Yet, it is in the darkness that people come together to build fires, laugh, make merry and band together to bring up each other's spirits... and our own.

Several centuries ago, Native Americans did something pretty awesome for a couple ex-patriots. They gave thanks for that act of kindness. But don't forget- we've been giving thanks for millenia.

When you're filling your belly with cranberry sauce and fluffy stuffing, don't forget the real reason behind the season. If you feel the urge to be mad at the coffee maker- be mad. Just don't forget that 364 days out of the year it gives you a glorious cup o'joe. I never met a Pagan that didn't like their cup o'joe.

It's the little things. Be grateful.

Post the First

So this is a story of sauciness. And a girl. But that goes without saying.

My name is Eevie. Short for Evelyn and Everything and Any-Witch. I am a Pagan young lady, fond of long walks on far away beaches and the scent of fallen apples on a hazy October morning. I'm probably what you would expect. And then... not so much. I'm admittedly fluffy in that I think every moment has magick, and sweet Goddess, we should all probably be paying attention. I'm also passionate. I have an artistic temperament. Do not get between me and my cappuccinos.

On the other hand, this blog really isn't about me. I may be Any-Witch, but I'm not Every-Witch. No, the posts, entries and general musings that shall be written here are FOR the Every-Witch. I'm going to talk about magick, the Goddess, trees and seeds and fluffy kittens. The entire world relates to our religion, and I'm going to talk about how it relates. Imagine me as a curly-haired little girl, playing with triangle blocks, fitting them into triangle holes. I was always pretty good at shapes.

Please stay awhile, sit a spell and enjoy the tea~