An Open Letter to Writers

Hello writers of the world,

Earlier this week I was struggling to think of a blog idea, so I grab one of the writing prompts my lovely life mate has made for me.  It was to write an open letter to writers and encourage you.  I recognize that I might not be the most qualified person in the world to write this, however I'm going to.  This is because if even one thing I say helps someone write with more passion and creativity, if it helps them do what they love for the rest of their lives, if it helps them move forward with their career, then it will be worth it.

So hello all of you wonderful writers out there.  I do mean wonderful when I say that, because writing is wonderful and awesome and difficult.  I know that sometimes you feel discouraged or angry or blocked.  So here are some pieces of advice and encouragement.

One of the best ways to get better as a writer is to experience writing.  Just like you get better at anything by learning from others who have done it before you, you can get a lot better by reading and critiquing writing.  All kinds of writing, fiction, non fiction, newspapers, whatever.  Read it and critique it, look at their sentence structure and word choice.  Pay attention to how the use grammar and language to evoke emotions and thoughts.  However, this doesn't end at reading.  You can also watch movies, listen to music, or watch t.v.  Roughly eight five percent of our entertainment is a form of writing.  Keep a journal of phrases that sound good or catch your eye and try to understand why they stick out for you.  Understanding others writing will help you build your own.

Learn by doing, never stop writing.  Write things that suck and things that are great and everything in between.  Write things that interest you and things that bore and pay attention to how your word choice and sentence structure changes.

Here's a piece of advice that may sounds strange, but stay with me.  Take acting classes.  This serves a twofold purpose.  First, it will help you to hear and feel the sound of good words put greatly.  Second, it will help you get inspiration to act out the great works of writing because it will help you to think of why the characters act the way they do and why the characters are built the way they are.

Also, try playing table top RPG's.  I know that sounds weird, but it really does help to explore how stories are built and character motivations.  Also, it's just a blast.  I can play table top games and relax and come home ready to write the night away.

Play music, or learn an instrument.  All creativity is based in the same part of the brain, so it makes sense that if you are creative in one way it will help other forms of creativity.  It will also help you get through creative blocks.  This really applies to any form of creativity, from music to stand up.

Don't be afraid to share you're writing, or rather share it despite being afraid.  The input from others can help a lot.  It also prepares you for the fact that not everyone is going to like what you write.  While this may seem disheartening, you should in fact be excited about this.  Because if everyone did like your writing there would be a serious lack of individuality in the world, and individuality fuels writing.

Lastly, realize that being writer is not for the weak willed or faint of heart.  The act of being a writer, of constantly experiencing life and sharing those experiences in one way or another is a terrifying one that can leave you drained.  That said it is so worth it.  It is amazingly rewarding and fulfilling.

Keep on writing folks.

Family V.S. Relatives

Hey all, I know I've missed a few posts.  However, I have a good reason, I swear!  It was partially caused by finals, which were ridiculous, but I pulled through okay.  It was mostly caused by my car.  My car is a 1992 Ford Explorer, and honestly she's a great vehicle.  22 years old and still starts every time, stops on a dime, and gets me where I need to go is my definition of a great vehicle apparently, but I digress.

Last week I decided to do an oil change on my vehicle, something I am no stranger to.  So I picked up all the necessary parts and my buddy Ian was kind enough to offer his driveway so I could have a stable, level, legal place to preform said oil change.  Everything went wonderfully until I realized I couldn't get the drain plug back in the drain.  I suddenly remembered that a few years ago the drain plug had become so stripped that it needed to be drilled out of the oil pan, causing the drain to be significantly wider than Ford originally intended it to be.  After hours of tweaking and trying with one solution or another, Ian and I finally decided to measure the hole and buy an appropriately sized bolt to go in the drain.  This resulted in us cutting down a six inch long, 5/8th of an inch wide bolt to two inches long.  It's ugly, but it works.  Maybe I'll post a picture for you folks one day.


On to the main content of this post.  I have a weird definition of family, which may upset some folks, but I want to talk about it.  I don't view family as being related by blood, although that can definitely play a role in family it is not the sole deciding factor.  People you're related to by blood, but who are not family, are called relatives in my world.

Family is the people that make you feel like you belong.  They love you despite of and partially because of your strange quirks and flaws.  They are always willing to talk to you and figure out exactly what you meant by that odd comment or possibly racist remark because they know you're a good person and want to make sure you know that you sounded like an idiot or racist.  Their honest, and kind, and loving.  They watch out for you and are always there for you, no matter what happens.  They will never judge you too harshly, but will always be vocal about their opinions of what you're doing while making sure you feel safe and loved.  Our families are our first and harshest critics, but they are harsh out of love and a desire to see us grow.  They resist the urge to be passive aggressive, because that will only cause pain.

Relatives don't do any of these things, or they may do some of these things but not all.  Relatives are people you're related to by blood, but for one reason or another, don't know very well.  I will lay down my life, my well being, and my soul for my family,  I will only help relatives within reason.

Long story short, I love my family.  I even like to majority of my relatives.  That said, if you're not family but a relative, don't expect too much from me.  I try to give all of my relatives a chance to become family, and if you've burnt that bridge it's hard to get back.  It's not that I don't like you, or that I think you're a bad person, it's that you're not family.

H is for High Magic

First off, a disclaimer.  This is not intended to mock or offend high magicians.  I was a practicing high magician for years and years, and it's a fantastic segue into magic.  Moving on.

High magic, sometimes more aptly called ceremonial magic, is traditional spell casting and occultism at it's finest and most high point.  People clad in robes with deep cowls and masks, candles, chalk outlines, a sack full of ritual gear, and everything in it's proper place or may the Gods help you.

This is fantastic for seekers or initiates, because it gives the conscious mind precisely what is expected.  By doing this it placates the conscious and allows the subconscious to work the true deep magic of the world by creating an atmosphere of magic.  Simply put, it puts you in a magical state of mind.

However, what does this do for the experienced magician?  For the magician where magic is more science than faith, the magician that lives a holistic life where the magical and the mundane are not separate,  where conscious and unconscious intermingle at will, the magician that has forsaken the comforting illusions of separation?  For us, these extra tools are useful, but no longer necessary.

Almost any experienced magician or witch or what have you will tell you the same thing.  These tools are fantastic for creating the right state of mind, but once you can do so without them they become unnecessary. They will tell you that the theories and trappings of high magic are useful, and that it is a wonderful starting point.  However, there comes a point in your path where you must let go of what has aided your ascent heretofore in order to climb ever higher.  What was once helpful, held on to far too fiercely, becomes stagnant dead weight that will drag you down.

Until next time,

May the stars guide you, the moon guard you, and your heart lead you home.

Living a life full of respect and devoid of fear

First off I need to apologize, I know that's lame, but I was quite sick yesterday, and decided sleeping and getting better was more important than getting a blog post out on time.  So, there's my apology and now on to more awesome things.

This might come as a shock to many of you, but I like to read.  I like to read a lot.  In fact, there is very little on this earth I enjoy doing more than reading.  I'll read anything, poetry, fiction, prose, non-fiction, newspapers, blog posts.  If it has good rhythm and an at least perfunctory attempt at good grammar and a reasonable story to tell you can find me reading it.  This is because I love stories, I feel like stories are one of the only ways to really experience what it is to be human.

In many of the stories I read I encounter a recurring theme.  That theme is the triumph over fear.  Sometimes the fear is ordinary, like a fear of heights, sometimes it's a magical fear that flows from a being or an object, and sometimes it's a completely irrational fear, like a fear of clowns.  This is good, because knowing what a person is afraid of is a great way to understand that person.  It won't give you the full picture, but it will tell you a lot.  That being said, fear is an emotion that destroys rational thought and thereby destroys that which makes us human.  It is natural to fear, but to fear to fall is just as bad as falling if in a different way.

Respect, on the other hand, goes hand in hand with what makes us human.  To respect something, to understand that it can destroy you and to treat it properly, is how we grow as human beings.  You cannot fear something you respect, because to truly fear something you can't understand it, and to truly respect something you must understand it, at least cursorily.

To live a life without fear is to live your life fully.  This is not to say we shouldn't respect the power of things.  I respect the lightning, I respect heights, I respect bears, but I do not fear these things.  I am in the process of replacing fear with respect, and now I have two fears left.  The point is, it is possible to live a life full of respect and without fear.  Difficult, but possible.

I will keep my two fears to myself. They're both major fears, and understandable from a certain standpoint, but they are also silly. On top of that, they are mine, not yours. I would not ask you to publicly bear your fears to the world. I have every confidence I will overcome them, and I will live my life without regrets, so that when I die I may pass from this plane with peace in my mind, joy in my heart, and a smile on my lips.

See you folks Friday. Until then, may the stars guard you, the moon guide you, and the wind be always at your back.

H is the beginning of Holistic living

So by now most if not all of us have heard of this cool thing called holistic healing.  If you haven't, it's basically the idea that in order to treat any ailment you must treat the root cause, the spiritual or energetic problems that have arisen, and the symptoms of the ailment.  It's become really big in the U.S. at the bare minimum and I assume it's either become or is in the process of becoming really big in the rest of the world too, particularly because there's actually all sorts of research and evidence supporting holistic healing or, to use the technical term, complementary and alternative medicine.

However, that's just a small part of what I wanted to write about today.  The bigger part is holistic living, or living your life as a whole.  I know from my studies of magic that in order for magic to work effectively we need to keep it separated from the mundane, for the mundane mind works constantly against that which it cannot see, feel, or measure, and sometimes works against that which it can.  Despite the fact that magic has observable results and is a method of probability enhancement our mundane or conscious mind is still confused and baffled by it, which causes self doubt, which undermines our workings. Their are two solutions to this.  You can either separate all parts of your life into the mundane and the magical, or you can live holistically.

To live holistically is to see the connections in all things.  To realize that the physical and the spiritual, the mundane and the magical, the seen and the unseen, are not separate.  To realize that separation is an illusion made by society to keep order, and accepted by your conscious mind in order to survive.  It is to walk everyday in magic and the glory of the Gods.  To hear and speak with the spirits, to live your life fully, in constant contact with all aspects of the world around you, spiritual, magical, societal, and mundane.

This is not to say that you must shout your faith from the rooftops, nor that you must seclude yourself from society. Both of these would not be living holistically, for they would prioritize one over the other.  This is instead to say that you must balance all things in your life constantly.  That life must become a constant adventure, a constant striving for balance.

To live holistically is to live a life full of understanding, strength, rage, acceptance, compassion, love, kindness, selfishness and selflessness.  It is to recognize that all of these things, and more, are part of life.  To recognize that the spiritual and the societal are equal parts of life.  It is to erase distinction, and to live in harmony with your self and others, and to destroy those that seek to upset that harmony.

Once again, just my opinion.  Is this the right way to live for all people?  Probably not.  Is it the right way for me to live?  Yes.  Is it a good way to live?  I think so, but good is a highly subjective term, just like evil or bad or holy.

See ya folks.

May the stars guide you, the moon guard you, and your heart find peace.

G stands for Grey Magic

So today I wanted to talk to everyone about grey magic.  Not just grey magic in general though, that would be boring and impersonal.  No, I want to talk about what I mean when I say I'm a grey witch, and what grey magic is to me.

Now, the definition I've found in my research says that grey magic is beneficial magic that doesn't seek the permission of the beneficiary before it is cast.  According to this reiki could be conceivably considered grey magic.  That being said, that's not how I define grey magic.  Not to say that their definition is wrong, because it isn't, but it's most certainly theirs and doesn't fit with my path or my system.

So, if we accept that magic is a force and a tool, and is neither boon nor harm but may be used to bless or curse, then we can classify white magic as magic that causes beneficial effects.  Therefore black magic is magic that causes harm.

But what is grey magic then?  Does it do neither?  Gods no, if it did neither it would do nothing, seeing as every action we take, even in magic, has an intended affect and usually some side effects.  Then what is it?  Why do I have a definition for it?

Well these definitions are really just there to provide easy little check boxes on the forms we use to define ourselves and our craft.  Therefore, they lack quite a lot of subtlety and gloss over a lot of important questions, like the why and how are you casting for instance.

In my practice grey magic means magic that follows the laws of balance.  I'm a firm believer that one can discern the law of karma if one can find the proper meditative state.  I also believe that any spell work that is meant to preform justice or to give what people deserve will fizzle or backfire if it isn't karmically deserved.  So by calling myself a grey witch, what I mean is that I strive in my daily life to uphold balance and justice and honor in all my dealings, particularly in my spell work.  This requires a lot of discipline, self introspection, and meditation to truly follow, because if you act solely on your instincts you are extremely likely to upset the balance and that will get you into some deep trouble.

Please don't argue with me on this, it's my personal practice and definition, and my mind is closed on this matter because it is true to me, although it may not be true to you.  Arguing with someone who has closed their mind is only slightly more frustrating than arguing with a brick.  That's assuming bricks don't speak to you, I don't know your path or training, but you get the idea.

Until next time folks,  may the stars guard you, the moon guide you, and your heart lead you home.

Frank

Frank felt tired.  Tired and much older than twenty and sick of the world.  He sat up and looked around his room.  It was messy, strewn with papers covered in half written stories and song.  Propped in one corner was his sax case and guitar, both covered in anarchist and counter culture stickers.  The room smelled of mold from the window above his bed and alcohol and cigarettes from the empty two litters scattered carelessly on the floor.  He groaned and climbed out of bed, rubbing his eyes and swearing, and stumbled to the door.

He opened the door and turned right, past the other room and into the bathroom.  When he finished taking a leak he walked past his room in tho the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of soda, and headed out into the glaring brightness and heat of another hundred and fifteen degree day for a smoke. As he was smoking, he saw the mail come, and pushed casually off the wall he was leaning on to saunter over and grab it.  Then he retreated from the heat and light back to his cool dark apartment, like a cowardly knight fleeing a fire breathing dragon.

Once inside he rifled through the mail, found nothing worth noting, and went to pound on the door of the other room.  He heard grumbling from the other side, and walked in.  His room mate and best friend Daniel had passed out on the floor without making it to the bed, so when he opened the door it slammed into his friends legs.  Daniel awoke with a shout, swearing and grabbing at his leg.  "What the hell was that for?"  He yelled.

"How the hell am I to know that you've fallen asleep in front of the door again, you dork!"  Frank said right back. "Get up, we have to play tonight and I want to get some practice in before hand."

"Fine fine.  Do we have a set list?"  Daniel asked, obviously still mostly asleep.

"Yeah, we have a set list."  He replied testily, "and if you don't get your ass off that floor and come eat I'll kick it from here to the nearest star."

As they took a break before practicing, Frank lit a cigarette.  It's glow reflected off his purple skunk stripe in sandy hair and his washed out green eyes.  He was thin and lanky, and looked like he never ate.  If you had said that to any of his friends they would have laughed at you, having frequently seen him devour four or five medium pizza's in one sitting.  He was a drastic counter point to his friend.  Daniel was average height, but built slightly more stockily.  He had long brown hair that he let fall around his shoulders and brown eyes that sparked in any light.

"Those things will kill you one day." Daniel said, gesturing vaguely at the death stick in his friends mouth.

"They already have, I just haven't bothered to lay down yet." Frank thought, but he replied with a simple "Probably."

After breakfast they practiced for a few hours before heading out to the "venue."  The "venue" as they called it, was shady corner of a strip mall.  They got there and set up, throwing out a hat while Frank tuned his sax. They played for about four hours before a rent-a-cop told them to move along.  Grumbling and swearing under their breaths they complied, having learned long ago that resistance just led to taser fire and beatings.

"How much did we get?" Asked Daniel.  The hat was Franks, so he got to count the money.

"Fifteen buck and fifty-six cents."  Frank replied cheerily.  When he saw the disheartened look on his friends face he said, "It'll buy dinner, and let's play the college before we go home."

"Okay."

When they got there it became apparent that no one on the campus was interested in donating money to help two punks eat, so they began to play whatever they felt like.  It was half way through one of their favorite songs, one of the only Frank would sing along to, that Daniel noticied a strange absence.  As if the air were missing a certain neccesary quality.  After several moments of wondering, he looked around at his friend and the music fell apart in his hands, like grasping at sand in a river.

There was Frank, laying face down with blood pooling around his mouth, crimson and dark against the dirty concrete.  Daniel broke down and cried out for help, dropped his guitar, and started to shake his friend desperately.

"Frank, wake up man!  You can't let me fight this alone!  I need you, you dick!  Whose going to keep my spirits up and help me change the world?!  Snap out of it you asshole!"  Daniel cried on and on, even after the EMT crew showed up and took them both to the hospital.  Even after the doc declared Frank dead.

Years of smoking and chronic bronchitis had caught up to Frank, and singing the song was the last straw.  His heart just gave up do to lack of oxygen, and his lungs filled with blood as his heart stopped pumping it out.

When Daniel got back to the house crying and shaking, and not entirely sure how he got there, he went directly to the freezer and pulled out the bottle of scotch they'd been saving.  As he turned around to pour the drink, he noticed an envelope on the counter with his name on it.  Inside was a brochure for the local college and a letter.  This is what the letter said.

"Daniel,

You're a good man, even though some days you're lazy and you'd forget your ass if it wasn't attached.  You've made the last years of my life an awesome experience, and I'm sorry I won't be here for much longer.  The docs say my heart is too weak and that I should put my affairs in order, since I can't afford the surgery.  I don't know when it will happen, but I'll be gone soon.  When I go, I want you to go back to college.  I know we dropped out together to change the world, and that they system is completely screwed up, but over these past years I've learned that it's going to take all kinds to fix it.  Beggars, drifters, teachers, lawyers, and even scumbag politicians.  So go fix the world, finish what I never could, and live you life to the fullest everyday.

Here's to the day everyone stands on level ground,

Frank."