Rings…

11 Years…

…that’s how long it’s been since a ring was placed on the finger of this dryad, binding her with metal,  her fate sealed with symbols, capturing her in her form with a name…

…but not to be lost in the shapes that were to come, to grow, to branch-out, to evolve…

…ever-more…

The woodcutter needs his trees, the dryad needs her tree, bits are cut away, new seeds are planted, growth and decay must occur…

…both…

…together…

…ever-after…

…to be continued…

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Today is the eleventh anniversary of the day my husband and I were married- same day, even!- surrounded by willow branches & ferns, by family and friends.  Some have gone, some have been born, some have been lost, some have been found.  New names have been given, new shapes have been slipped into… and old ones left behind.  I still don’t know “who I may some day be.”  We are still together- eleven years married, almost eighteen years since we first met.  A bit worn, a bit tired, a bit bent, and a bit overwhelmed with Life’s Challenges.  But together.

We’ve come this far…

…and there’s still far to go…

In Love and Life, my Deer-Hart…

…I’ll meet you in the Dark Woods…

…let’s count some rings…

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My dearest love, my gull, my bard,

Today I am declaring to the world my true devotion to you.  As a personal sign of this, I am taking your surname, McNay.  I know that you have felt uneasy about this, about taking away a name that I have had my whole life, a name that others know me by; in a way, my identity thus far.

In some cultures, a person takes many names in his or her life, as a sign that they have left a part of their life behind them, and are moving on to the next part of their life.

In Terri Windling’s The Wood Wife, Maggie Black and Crow, a Trickster spirit from the Rincons of Arizona, have the following discourse:

“Then tell me who you are,” Crow said, “and why you have come to this land of mine.”

“That’s two questions,” Maggie pointed out. 

He ignored this.  “Quick now.  Who are you?”

Maggie shrugged.  “I’m many different people,” she said.  “So I guess I’m a bit of a shape-shifter too.  In West Virginia, I’m Emil Black’s granddaughter.  In L.A., I’m Nigel Vanderlin’s ex-wife; in London, I’m Tatiana Ludvik’s crazy friend.  I’m a vagabond writer to my friends in Holland; a sweet summer affair to a sculptor in Florence; a hopeless klutz to every gym teacher I’ve ever had-do you want me to go on?”

“Those are just the shapes.  What’s underneath?  The essence, that doesn’t change from shape to shape.  That’s what a shape-shifter has to know or you lose yourself.  You can’t get back.  You’re trapped in one shape, and you can’t get out.”

She frowned, thinking about this.

“What are you at the core, Black Maggie?”  He smiled viciously.  “I don’t believe you know.”

To many of the people in this room, and to others who could not be here today, I too am many different people, with many different names:  I was Chicken to my grandfather, Leo; Kerrie-Anna-Banana and Kerrie-the-Strawberry to my aunts Joan and Jane, respectively; Marie to the Roman Catholic Church; Diana to my Anne-girl, Sheila; Angel, Doc, and KC to my family from Wheelock; Perrina to the virtual world; Fairy-girl to the musical spirits of Arizona; and kerriefairy and Princess Kerrie to you, my Deer Hart, my Little Prince.  I am all of these people, and none of them.  I am myself, though, not a name or a title.

When I went to Arizona last year, I did not yet know the steps to the dance I was to perform.  I found my dance on the paths of Thumb Butte, alone with Nature and Time to guide my arms and feet.  When I met you, I did not yet know who I was, or what role I was to perform in your life.  Since then, I have found my words, I have found my self, I have found my role.  I was a bit afraid of becoming “wife” and how that word, the simple change of my name, would affect my life.   I am still curious, though no longer afraid.

I may know who I am, but not who I may some day be.  But I know that with you by my side, we may discover these, and many other things, together.  May that journey last forever and a day, longer if possible.

 

 

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May 31, 2003 – May 31, 2014

 

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What brought me here, what is my interest…

Note:  This is my “response” I wrote in my morning pages to a question posed to me recently.  Enjoy…
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What brought me here…
What is my interest…

Soul Balm…

Souls and lips,
Balm to heal,
Hearts to steal,
And soothe,
And mend,
And warm,
With fire,
With soup,
With bread,
To shape,
To rise,
To feel,
The flame,
The tale,
The loss,
The memory,
Once found,
Once discovered,
Once upon a hearth,
Once upon a homestead,
Once upon a life,
Upon a soul,
Upon lips,
Upon all.

 

01/10/2013

 

Lughnasadh + Lammastide…

The bees do not know it is Lughnasadh,
The spider does not know there will be two full moons this month,
The grass does not know that it is Lammastide,
The blackberries do not know they are early,
The goldenrod, ragweed, and pine do not know you are allergic to them,
The beetles do not know you want the berries that grow on the same bramble as the leaves they love,
The apples do not know whether the water they drank in came from your hose or a downpour.
They are,
They do.
The sun does not notice if you watch the clock, or the shadow of a sundial, or simply how full your basket is.
It will shine.
Be.
Do.
Shine.
08/02/2012

Once Upon a Homestead

Once upon a homestead, there was a Dryad, a Woodcutter, and a Little Goblin…

…they lived in a little red house…

…surrounded by woodlands…

…and a swamp…

…where they planted a garden, cut their own firewood, ate wild brambleberries, and dreamed of living more fully off their land.

This is their story, my story, our story…

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Welcome to my Virtual Beltane Bonfire & 37th Birthday Bash!

I had wanted to have a big Beltane Bonfire & 37th Birthday Bash (37 feels so much more important than 40, which I’ll follow up with a 42nd Birthday Bash when it comes- bring a towel!), but life, weather (until recently), and finances had seemed to be working against it.

So, instead, I requested a bonfire & celebration from all of my friends online.

Instead of posting “Happy Birthday, Kerrie!”, I asked all to post something more… creative.

For my 37th Beltane Birthday, I requested everyone to post one or more of the following:

1) Your favorite fairy tale, folk tale, myth, etc.
2) Your favorite homesteading story.
3) Your favorite homesteading skill (one you have or wish you could learn)
4) Your favorite archetypal homesteading location- hearth, smithy, market, etc.)
5) Your favorite manifestation/result of fire.

You’re welcome to participate here, if you like.

Here were my answers… enjoy!

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