Diana Renata, Woodchuck Slayer

Today was a hard day. Lots of struggles in life right now.

My very sweet friend, Emily Swan, did something awesome to cheer me up today. She created this!

Amazing, right!?


Because she rocks, you should totally go check out her blog, and see some of her other really cool stuff.  :)

Thanks Emily! You definitely made my day. <3

I am a Witch

I am a Witch. This name I wear with pride.

I can curse and I can cure. I can hex and I can heal.

I cast spells to get things that I want or need.

Sometimes what I need is money. Sometimes what I need is love. Sometimes what I want is for you or someone else to leave me the hell alone.

To protect a pet, a child, my home, my car. To ask beautiful people into my life. To help me love myself. To make that bothersome person to go away. Far, far away. Or for that person to get their just desserts.

It works, and I am not ashamed to use it.


I don't believe in Karma, The Three-Fold Law, or any sort of Divine Judgement. 

I believe bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people. I believe you suffer the consequences of your actions, or reap the rewards.

Sometimes the gods meddle in our lives for their fancy, or bestow gifts when they see fit. Half of what happens to us in life is chance, the other half we bring upon ourselves. None of us know which is which.


I don't need a Savior, a Redeemer, a path to Enlightenment or Nirvana. 

I am held accountable for my own actions. It is I who must redeem myself when I do wrong, and it is I who will pay the price.


This is my path, my journey, and mine alone. 

I may share my knowledge, or teach my craft, but to be a Witch is a calling.

If your heart doesn't race at the sight of the Full Moon, if you can't feel the tremble in the air on Halloween, or take comfort in a soul-cleansing cry in the middle of a rainstorm... this path is not for you.

Sex is sacred and beautiful. Birth and death are equally painful yet joyous occasions, and life itself is an act of pleasure.

This is my path, my journey.
I am a Witch. This name I wear with pride.

Grow Dammit!

As Chelse and I walked through the big circle of standing stones at Four Quarters Sanctuary, one smaller stone stood to the side. At its top rested a round rock engraved with the phrase, "Grow Dammit!" We giggled at the joke and continued wandering through the campground. Little did I realize how wise that little rock was.

The next morning our friends began to filter in, and Wickerman started to come to life. We erected our tent city. I'm not sure if any of us realized what a growing experience this was about to be. I learned so much from my camp mates and fellow festival goers over those five days.


Lesson One: People are Amazing

People ARE amazing, in so many ways. They are beautiful, creative, funny creatures who come up with the most inventive ways of amusing themselves and others. They create art, play with fire, make music, dance. In the right setting, such as this one, they're incredibly tolerant, giving, non-judgmental, sharing, and nurturing. It's interesting to see what society can be, in a perfect world. It might never really exist, but in that sacred time, and sacred space, it exists to us.


Lesson Two: Tribal Living Rocks

This I have known for a while, but I really felt it this year. Granted, my food (and the booze) was anything but Primal, but the rest of the lifestyle was perfect. Wake up with the sun, eat when hungry, rest, walk, play, dance, run. Occasionally carry heavy things like wash buckets or coolers full of alcohol. I remember the perfect tribal moment. It was my turn to wash dishes. Squatting next to the wash buckets, cleaning our dishes in nothing more than a scarf around my waist. It felt so natural... so human. Tribal living is the best. I wish I could do it always.


Lesson Three: Accept Yourself

I think I took a huge step... no... a giant leap in this department. In past years it was practically a matter of pulling teeth to get me into the river naked. This year, whether in or out of the river, clothes were merely an option. To my shock and amazement, it wasn't a struggle at all. Sure, at first it felt a bit weird to be unclothed. Now I'm faced with an equal challenge, to be a domesticated human in the "normal" world. Going back to work tomorrow will remedy that, I'm certain. Still though, I've gained a certain confidence, an acceptance of myself that I can carry with me throughout the rest of the year when I'm not at Wickerman.


Lesson Four: Assassin Bugs are Cool

We had tiny guests at our camp this year. Assassin bug nymphs. Actually the Wheel Bug variety. I've never seen these little creatures before, and now find myself incredibly fascinated with them. Apparently the adults can bite, and when they do it's incredibly painful. The babies though, are quite harmless. I rather enjoyed their company.


Lesson Five: Bread is Bad

OK, like Tribal Living, this one came as no surprise either, but for whatever reason I found myself unable to stop poisoning myself on a daily basis. It was just so damn tasty- as in it was a perfect conduit for gobs of butter, honey, and fruit preserves. One camp called Bread & Circus, had constant offerings of free baked delights for the taking, and we took. Hey, it was on the way to the swimming hole! We needed something to soak up the alcohol both before and after. Meh. It's once a year. Now I'm attempting to take control of the wagon again. It's proving more difficult than I anticipated, but it has to be done.


Lesson Six: Asbestos actually grows on trees. 

We had the logs to prove it. They would not burn for all our trying.


There are so many things I learned this year- more than I can count, and I know I'm a slightly different person. That always happens after attending Wickerman. I look back at who I was a few years ago, and who I've become, and I give so much credit to these crazy, wonderful friends. I might only see them once or twice a year, but they change me forever.

Back to reality tomorrow.

I'm not ready for it.

Wickerman 2012: Promise?

Another Wickerman is about to begin. The event kicks off Thursday. I pack the car and leave tomorrow.

I've had a lot on my mind lately, and it leaves me wondering just what this year's festivities will hold. It seems each year I learn something new about myself. Each year I change a little. I don't know if it's the place, the people, the atmosphere of the event. Maybe the almost total disconnect from the outside world.

Entering Four Quarters for Wickerman is to enter sacred space, and sacred time. Whether it's intended that way or not, whether the participants see it or not, whether they even approve or not, this is a ritual that we participate in annually. Sacred time, sacred space, ritual clothing, ritual actions. Much of what happens here doesn't exist in the outside world, at any other time of the year.

I've been struggling with myself a lot lately- finances, food, weight... and it all stems from the same place. Bad behavior, rebellion, binging and restricting, excess. I know the proper way to do things, to behave, to be a responsible adult, and yet I cannot seem to bring myself to do these things that I should be doing. I am a master of self sabotage. I know how to screw myself better than anyone on the planet. I catch myself trying to do it (and sometimes succeeding) on a regular basis.

What has happened to me!?

I used to have my shit together. I had my finances in check. I was a fabulous food & exercise Nazi. I was in the zone! Now it's a battle of wits with myself just to not over-spend (coupled with a few kicks from real life money drains), to not over-eat, to not hate my body for what it isn't (fit, thin, slim, non-jiggly.) What happened to me? Why am I rebelling so strong against myself?

Most importantly, how do I stop?

I'm hoping Wickerman this year helps me with this roadblock, even just a little. Can it help me get over my body image issues? I bought body paints to take with me. That means I will have to get myself painted, and in order to get myself painted- and be SEEN (that IS the point after all)- is to be publicly naked... outside of the swimming hole.

I certainly have no chance of fixing this diet issue at Wickerman, with all the boozification going on. Val is a wonderful cook and is providing us with amazing food at least, so I won't be enticed or bombarded by absolute junk all week. At best, I'll drink myself so silly I won't want junk or booze for 6 months. The Gods willing.

Finances... I'm just going to have to buckle down.

So when I return in a week or so, perhaps with some fun and fabulous pictures to share, maybe I'll be a little bit better than I am today. Something's gotta give eventually, because I can't keep going on like this.

Can't Get Going

Today is a hard day. I just can't get motivated. What's a girl to do?

Warrior Dash is just a couple months away and I am NOWHERE near ready. Sitting here on my butt certainly isn't going to prepare me. And yet... here I sit.

It's been a busy weekend and I'm tired. I'm going to be pulling a 12-hour shift tomorrow and running won't be happening. Everything in my brain says to get my butt out there and run, but my body's just saying "Nope." And it's cold and grey outside. I want a toasty fire and cocoa.

Now this is the dilemma. Do I do what I need to do to reach my goals, or do I use the cavegirl cop-out and "listen to my body?" I mean, after all, Grokette would have stayed inside and napped by the toasty fire on a day like this, right? It wouldn't be such a dilemma if I had run at any time since Wednesday.

*grumble*

On the bright side my biggest concern is performance and not aesthetics. For once I'm wanting to run for the sake of getting better at it rather than shrinking my behind. The fact that I'm a piss-poor runner doesn't help at all. How did I go from being able to run for an hour to barely being able to pull a mile? It's frustrating and makes me just want to give up.
 
Ignorance is Bliss?

I thought maybe if I ate something my energy level would go up, and I'd find some motivation. Steak, sweet potato and some coffee with raw goat milk. It was delicious, but I'm still not raring to go. Instead I'm Netflixing.

Oh! Oh I think I feel something! Is that some motivation stirring? Maybe the coffee is working after all.

If it gets me out the door it'll be a miracle.


Edit: Apparently miracles do happen. I got out there and did it. I didn't die.

Celebrate the small victories.

Knotweed Wine

Well this is certainly an experiment. It's not at all what I expected so far.

Truth be told, I am favoring knotweed wine over dandelion purely for the sake of simplicity. It's 1000 times easier to harvest and process than dandelion flowers. Whether I'll prefer to drink it is another story. Dandelion wine is easily sweet, while the knotweed seems to be much drier. Strange, considering the recipe is practically identical. If, in a year, I find the recipe for knotweed wine much too dry, I'm going to have to tinker with the recipe some.

The process is easy enough. I basically followed THIS RECIPE. The only difference being that I didn't use champagne yeast or yeast nutrient. I rednecked it up just like the dandelion wine, and just used the regular stuff from the grocery store for bread-making. Nothing fancy, and it gets the job done.

Who knows... based on flavor, maybe I should go with the snooty yeast.

So here's what happened...

First I harvested a crapload of knotweed. Pounds and pounds of it. Luckily it's easy to harvest, and fairly quick to cut. Washing takes a few minutes but it's not too tedious.

I decided the easiest way to work with this stuff is to not have to strain it later. These laundry bags were super cheap, and worked perfectly!
 

As you can see I tossed in some orange slices and a few leftover strawberries. I don't imagine the berries really changed the flavor at all, but I at least felt like they were being put to use.
 

All tied up nice and pretty!
 

After the whole steeping process the yeast started to do its thing. It looked pretty funky, and smelled kind of like a bakery for a while. These were kept covered with cloth while they fermented.

Bottling didn't take long (thanks to a handy dandy siphon found at Tractor Supply Co.) I had a bit more than I bargained for and resorted to using every glass container in my kitchen. There will be less wine than this after the sediments settle and I re-bottle. It doesn't have the pretty pink color I was hoping for.

So it appears at first glance I'll have a dry white wine on my hands in about a year. I hope you'll be here with me for the uncorking!