Tag Archives: everyday life

Making the most of it

5 Sep

We got a few days off at the office, and I am trying to make the most of it. So far I have visited my older sister and my oldest friend, gone on more runs that any reasonable person would admit to, made muffins, visited some more friends and spent a lot of time catching up on “Orphan Black”. Oh, and I have been writing. But you guessed that already, right?

So, that’s basically it. In my few spare minutes I have been reading up on green witchcraft. Recently … for the past year or two, I guess … I have found most books on witchcraft lacking. Either they are poorly researched, or they portray a kind of witchcraft that is mostly aimed at privileged people with lots of free time and money to waste on crafts material – or maybe I have read the wrong kind of books? I wish there was more material on how to truly merge everyday life and witchcraft in a way that is open to everyone who wishes to travel this path. Playing at fairy-dancing under the full moon (there is a full moon tonight, by chance) is all good and fun, but I still dream of witchcraft to change and better and … heal the world.

The ramblings of an undercaffeinated writer. ^^

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Tiny changes

10 Oct

But nothing much.

The mysterious toilet has disappeared as mysteriously as it had appeared. Fall is crashing into the landscape, leaving trails of bleeding trees and frost on the ground. Everyone is breaking out the heavy sweaters. And I really need to buy new pants.

The idea of doing an obstacle race refuses to die. I was ill for so long at the beginning of the year (normal cough, expert cough, ankle trouble) that we decided to postpone till next year. This gives us almost a year to train for a (hypothetical) race in September, and leaves me with enough breathing room to do a Strongman Run by the time I am thirty-five. Right now I run ten kilometers three times per week and try to get used to strength training at the gym. At the beginning of the next year I hope to get a few trainer sessions scheduled and start using free weights, at least part of the time, and maybe take on a pilates class for general torture. Oh, and I need to lose about twenty kilograms of fat to make it easier to hurl myself over the obstacles. Or that’s the plan.

Sounds boring? I don’t know, I am kind of hyped. You may have forgotten that Diana is my patron goddess, no matter how hard we fight, and moving my body, especially running through the woods, has become our kind of prayer/ritual. Sometimes birds of prey accompany me on my runs – either waiting for a nice snack once I collapse, or in order to encourage me. Who knows? My running speed has increased slighty (from originally 7:30/km to 6:15/km over the course of several years *ahem*), but I mostly enjoy that I can run rather long distances without interruption and not get hurt in the progress.

Of course there will be less wood-running as the evenings go darker, and I am not sure that the treadmill at the gym is a suitable substitute, but I will keep you posted. And in the meantime there is plenty of time for candles and horror movies and long graveyard walks. Maybe I’ll bring a few pictures the next time. ^^

18 Aug

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To be honest, our neighborhood is far from shitty. Quite the contrary. We’re one of those places where neighbors spy on watch out for each other and there are disputes over whether you have parked in the wrong spot – which belongs to the neighboring flat, although that neighbor does not even have a car and the spot is ALWAYS empty and the other neighbor has been parking his BMW so close to your spot that the only thing you could park there is a children’s bicycle, but he rented the flat with the parking spot and he’ll be damned if he lets anyone else park there for we’re in Germany and there are RULES, goddamnit, and where will this all end if everyone parks their car where they want to, these savages, in the olden days those punks would have been set straight by their parents no matter their age!

Mostly we like living here. We keep our heads down, smile when we meet the neighbors, park our car in our spot (unless the BMW is parked too far on the right, then we park out in front on the street, but that is not bad, either, for nothing ever happens around here) and keep to ourselves.

And right now we are watching dirt getting stirred up.

Two families are moving in simultaneously, and doing lots of renovating and stuff.

You know, this is a QUIET house. The people do not like other people drilling or opening doors or walking in the hallway after a certain time. The last people who moved in here moved out again after just three months because some of the older inhabitants had a veritable smearing campaign going on against them because their dogs were too loud and the older dog sometimes peed in front of the house. They told everyone that the woman was being looked for by the police, called animal protection over alelged dog abuse and wrote her landlord scathing letters about what kind of FILTH had he brought into the house??!

And now two new families. One couple in their fourties, polite and well-off, who put up letters when they have loud construction going on and leave chocolate on your doorstep as an edible excuse. (I like them.)

The other one, from what I have seen, a younger couple, maybe our age, with lots of family helping and drilling on weekends and a tiny child, which means they leave their buggy in the hallway sometimes.

I wonder how long they will last.

Firsts and self-care

30 Jun

Tuesday I went with a friend and colleague to get my first ever pedicure. I think the beautician was amazed at the amount of dead skin under my feet (this post is maybe not for the squeamish, just saying). And apart from being disgusting,this is probably not much to talk about. Except … my feet have a history. Kind of.

When I moved away from home to attend university, I would often feel overwhelmed and anxious, and I did not know what was causing these feelings. In an attempt to divert my attention, I would cut the soles of my feet and peel the skin off – not quite drawing blood (most days). The physical pain would override all emotional confusion – sometimes feeling as if I was walking on knives, I would make it through another day.

Over time, the scars became thick callouses.

I haven’t cut in years (and try to limit all kinds of self-harm to socially accepted forms, like getting rid of stray facial hair, and sometimes I tear my lips when I am extremely stressed), and recently I decided it was time to take care of the scars as well.

When we arrived I was afraid I would stress out – I do not like being touched by strangers even on good days. But I have to say, it was a gratifying experience. My feet are baby soft, I have lost at least one centimeter in height and am amazed how flexible feet can be without “hooves” underneath.

And now – how often does one have to repeat these things? I suck at being a grown-up woman. ^^

Out with the old!

25 Nov

And for a good cause, at that.

This morning I emptied our linnen closet, which was bursting at the seams. About three quarters of what was inside will be washed, dried and donated for the refugees that are still swarming to Europe. Especially now that it is cold I refuse to discuss refugee politics and legal tricks. These people are here now, and they are cold. So I collected a bunch of blankets, pillows and sheets, together with some of my beloved scarves, to be washed and set aside until one of the official collectors comes our way (or I have the car and time to drop it off somewhere).  We have so much stuff, it is almost embarrassing!

Especially after the attacks in Paris and the fear of future terrorist cromes, people are shouting about how we take in too many refugees and how some of them may be dangerous or have bad character (or suck at maths, who knows). And every now and then cultures clash and there may be fights in refugee camps and of course the media is all over it, especially some papers, and every single time you hear some people say, “See? All those strong, illegal immigrants, male, mostly criminal, and we’re welcoming them and bending over to accommodate their anti-democratic views!”

And maybe they are right.

My point is, that’s beside the point. We cannot let people starve or freeze just because we might not agree with their world view.

Of course I expect everyone who comes here to stick to the rules and not commit any crimes. If they do – and if they are caught – the legal system will deal with it. But I don’t think we can, in good conscience, deny people from war-torn countries refuge, and we surely cannot interrogate them at the borders to decide who is welcome and who must stay outside.

And when they are here, I think we should do our best not to let them die.

Take care of your tribe

19 Nov

In the aftermath of the terrible killings in Paris last week, there have been three bomb threats in two days in my town. No bombs have been found, for which I am incredibly grateful, and I still struggle to understand why people would do such a thing.

A few of my Muslim colleagues would, without a doubt, love to live in a conservative sharia-based state, and in my opinion there is no reason not to PEACEFULLY build a Muslim community based on conservative islamic laws. Why don’t they go and build a community for everyone who wants to stand with them, peacefully, the way Mormons or Amish or Jehova’s witnesses or the Twelve Tribes do? I am sure not much would be said against that.

Forcing people in Syrian towns to live after religious rules you impose on them – not so great.

Beheading people who do not share your religious views because they do not follow your religious laws, which you brought to their hometown without asking them – yeah, no.

Attacking people in secular communities far from your home, with completely different cultural and religious background, because they do not share your religious views – you’ve got to be kidding me!

From what I see, most people are not “enemies of the one true religion”. They may be sceptics, they may be “infidels” (according to your definition), but the modern world has a place for every religion and every belief, and if you are convinced that your path is the only one, why not rejoice in the knowledge that there will be plenty of reward in paradise while everyone else is punished for straying from the One True Path(TM)?

Every so often someone claims that “jihad” means “struggle to support your religion”. Go ahead, feed the poor, build shelters for the homeless, treat the sick. Save as many Muslim lives as you can.

Take care of your tribe.

Because, in the end, this is what we all should be doing. Go out, find the people who are connected to our life – by blood or oath or belief – and take care of them. Make them your tribe.

My tribe is not defined by blood or religion. It consists of those who share similar ethic views and do their best to uphold them. It consists of those who are on the same path, at different milestones maybe. Some of them I have never met, and may never meet in person. Some I may never even know exist.

The people who refuse to hate, but take no shit.Those are my tribe.

 

A bit all over the place

14 Oct

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That’s me, posing as a responsible adult before I have had my second coffee. I have fallen in love with bright lipstick colors, although I mostly wear (and apply) makeup at the office. Think of it as war paint, if you like.

Have you gotten your copy of “Skinned” already? No? Then hurry, it is really worth a read! Of course I have to say that, I wrote it after all.

Skinned Front Cover

In the meantime I have been busy and have all but completed the next installment in German. It’s called “Whispering woods”. I hope to get that one to you sooner, but there are so many projects on my plate! First of all there is “Lusty Andrea and the hilarious tentacles of death” (working title) which has alien comedians, mysterious rituals and an invasion that can only be stopped by people wearing capes. You know what I mean. It is also the project I am trying to finish for a writing class. Writing classes are quite exotic in Germany. Since we have geniuses such as Goethe, many people believe that writing cannot be taught, but that you have to emerge from your secret (torture) chamber as accomplished author with a masterpiece tucked under your arm. And since I have no free time whatsoever, I found a wonderful online class taught by a lovely German woman living in Portugal who is also a writer and offers week-long writer retreats (which I cannot afford … yet), and she is really forcing me to improve my writing. I love every minute of it, more than I love the sleep I might get otherwise.  Oh, and while I was walking through the woods I stumbled over a lovely new story that is just perfect for the pre-winter holiday time, complete with mysteries and magic and monsters and love. This excitement for additional projects is pathological, I tell you.

I have also been thinking about publishing a collection of thoughts on witching, beauty and health. Which I have not written yet, except in my mind. Because if there is one more thing I need in this life, it is additional work. I think it might be fun!

So now you know. I am still not dead, and picking up speed for the cold months. My father sent me the first picture of snow this morning, and I think I will spend plenty of time at my desk till spring. Ready? Ready!

PS: Maybe I should add … you can find “Skinned” either here or here. And if for some weird reason you are not into Kindle ebooks, drop me a note and we will figure something out. I am sure you will love Helena and Falk. (And if only you knew what they are up to next … only two books till Beltane!)