The Danger in Solitude

Everyone appreciates a bit of solitude now and then. Some of us require more than others; introverts being the most obvious example. But as much as periods of solitude can benefit us, allowing us to process, recharge, recover and heal, too much solitude can be quite detrimental.

It’s a fine line to determine, for each individual is different. What amounts as too much for one person, will be not enough for another. Also, once the detrimental effects have begun, being within that insular bubble makes it very hard for that person to recognise that they are no longer being benefitted by their solitude. At the same time, however, our subconscious does know that something is wrong, and attempts to find ways to negate the harm being caused.

In my experience, both personal and seeing it from the outside, the simulation of social interaction seems to be the most common method our subconscious uses. For each person this will be different, though visual and audio stimulation is important for the simulation. RP-style video games wherein ‘you’ interact with other characters in scripted conversations, or video streams, home shopping networks and documentaries wherein the narrator/host is talking directly to their audience; these are the examples that I have personally seen. For myself, my social interaction simulation was RPGs and documentaries. I put hundreds of hours into several different RPGs, each. I watched and re-watched Planet Earth and The Blue Planet so many times, I’d damn near memorised the scripts for each, and when it wasn’t those or other nature documentaries, it was crime documentaries.

This fed my need for social interaction without actually being required to go out and interact with people. I didn’t have to face the anxiety, didn’t need to worry about my fibro flaring up or my disc slipping out while outside the ‘safe’ confines of my home. Barring very specific special events and holidays, the most actual interaction I would have with another person was with the person I lived with. I had convinved myself that this was enough. I didn’t ‘need’ people around me more regularly than what I got; after all, I like my solitude.

I was fooling myself, in a very large way.

Battling depression is hard enough when you’re not isolated. When you are, it’s damn near impossible. And thus the cycle began. The more depressed I became, the more I retreated into solitude so that I wouldn’t ‘bother’ anyone. The more secluded I made myself, the more depressed I became.

It was more than just losing the fight against depression, however. My overall health deteriorated as well. Illness and depression feed one another. As my fibromyalgia symptoms became more apparent, my depression latched onto the initial feelings of helplessness and hopelessness and amplified them. This was further added to by my back problems worsening and not knowing the cause -- and once the prolapsed disc was diagnosed, it being deemed ‘not severe enough’ to fix was another thing to feed the beast. And as the depression grew worse, my ability to properly manage my conditions grew worse as well.

“Why bother?”
“Nothing can be done to fix it anyway.”
“It’s too much effort.”
“I’ll only feel worse for trying.”
“I can’t risk doing anything that’ll make the pain worse.”

Those were the types of thoughts that would circle endlessly through my head, further locking me into my solitude. And that last thought in the list was the one that lessened my ability to take care of myself and my living environment full stop. My diet became atrocious because cooking a proper, healthy meal was too much effort, not only in the prep and process, but including the clean-up. Thus, even using dishes sparingly, the dirty washing piled up. Clean laundry turned into a mountain that needed sorting. Books, DVDs, crafting supplies, console games, camera and computer gadgets all spread out to fill rooms in stacks. Anything else just got dumped in the spare room ‘to be dealt with later.’

As one might expect, the state of the house made me too ashamed to allow anyone to see it, so no one was ever invited over, and thus my social interaction was limited further.

I was locked in a hell of my own making, and not only did I not know how to break out of it, but I barely even recognised I was in it. I was too busy hiding in video games and documentaries. And even when I did start to break out, I still didn’t want to see just how bad it really was. Admitting it would mean that the horrible voice of the depression monster was right all along; that I was nothing more than a useless, lazy slob unworthy of friendship or love. Nevermind the very real physical health issues that began the cycle in the first place. I hadn’t coped, I hadn’t dealt with them ‘properly,’ and therefor I had failed abyssmally at life and at being a person. Because that’s part of how depression works. It takes a real thing, a valid thing, a thing that is not your fault and that you had no choice in whether or not it happened, and twists it into something that is totally your fault and that you could have prevented if only you weren’t such a despicable failure at everything.

Breaking out of the self-imposed trap wasn’t easy, and I seriously doubt I would have been able to do it on my own. I had help; help that deep down I’d known I needed, but that even if I’d known how to, I was too afraid to ask for. My fortune came in that it was offered anyway, and though I didn’t accept it -- didn’t want to, because then I’d have to face the reality of the lie I’d been telling myself -- the offer was never rescinded. It was, truthfully, kind of forced upon me, but that wasn’t a bad thing. There are times when it is more important that a person recongise the need for, and request, help. And then there are times when they have to be grabbed by the scruff of the neck and dragged out before they can fully realise the trouble they’re in and begin to do something to get themselves out of it.

When one spends too much time in solitude, their perception of reality becomes warped. They have only their own input defining the ‘truth’ of their circumstances. With no other input, they are limited only to what they can ‘see’ from the inside, and slowly but surely, they go a kind of crazy. That’s not the sort of situation one can snap out of without some kind of external catalyst.

By our very natures, we humans are social creatures. Even those of us who consider ourselves to be ‘loners’ still require a social group. Denying ourselves that, no matter what the reasons we have for doing so, only brings us harm.

Crafting Magic

In most of the books and websites I’ve read regarding spellwork, there’s always an entire list of props that are deemed ‘necessary.’ The list varies depending on factors such as the Path of the practitioner, the complexity of the spell’s purpose, whether or not it’s ritual, practical, or a combination, etc. For myself, I have found a lot of the prep-work that’s so often put forward as necessary... isn’t.

There are some steps that I won’t skip over because yes, they are important. But the level of ceremony I put into them is much less than many practitioners would consider appropriate. I don’t believe it’s necessary to have either a wand or an athame to cast a circle, for example, nor do I feel the need to have an elaborate set up with items symbolising all of the elements, or specific gods/goddesses/spirits. My personal take on many of these props is not that they themselves have any specific energies that are inherent to them, but that we ourselves imbue them with said energies and the use of them is not so much because they’re required for the actual spell, but that the placing and use of them act as physical keys to help us settle into the required mental and emotional state to begin.

Personally, I find it very easy to attain an appropriate mental state without taking a bunch of actions first, so much of my spellwork is done only with the components required for the actual purpose of said spell. I mainly work with candles and gemstones, with herbs and flowers only used occasionally. I meditate and visualise to bring myself to the required state, and my placement of protective circles and wards against negative spirits and energies is done with visualisation. I don’t need to walk the physical boundaries of a Circle for it t exist -- walking or not, the placement of it is a matter of will, not physical action.

This is my process, and it works for me. Spellcraft, like so many other things, does not have any One True Way in which it has to be performed. The only key thing one should never neglect, whether they choose to set up a complete altar near the area of their Workings, or simply place a crystal and a stick of incense, is the protections. Make a physical circle of chalk or salt, walk your circle with wand or athame, simply visualise it being brought up around you, or some other method you find works for you, but always create the protective circle before beginning spell work.

While I don’t believe that a bunch of physical props or spoken cantrips are necessary components of spellwork, I do believe that imbuing physical items with the energies associated with one’s intent is a more effective method than simply releasing those energies out into the Aether to either reach the intended recipient or not. Being an individual who is very much into the creating of things through various mediums -- knitting, crochet, bead- and leatherwork, among others -- it seemed only natural to me to combine the two. Even when a project can take several days, weeks, or even months to complete, as long as one only works on it when in the correct mindset and emotional state, one can imbue that item with the energies required for a specific purpose.

The most... commonplace, I suppose... example would be prayer shawls. Regardless of one’s personal spiritual or religious beliefs, or lack thereof, the idea of a prayer shawl is to knit or crochet a shawl for someone going through a difficult time. Illness, a tough period in their life, etc. While working on said shawl, the crafter thinks positive thoughts for and about the intended recipient, and only works on it while in a positive mental and emotional state. It’s a Working of love and compassion. Belief in magic and/or higher powers is not a prerequisite of a prayer shawl, nor does the term ‘prayer shawl’ even need to be applied to the item. It’s the intent of the gift and the feelings of the giver toward the recipient that are ultimately the only important things. A gift given with true love and caring will carry with it those positive energies whether or not either the giver or recipient believes in any special Power.

This can be applied to any item one can create. Quilts, jewellery, clothing, ornaments, decorations, even toys.

If one, like me, does believe in the inherent magical energies of certain items, such as gemstones and plants, one can incorporate those into the crafting. Decorating an item with gemstone beads that amplify the energies for a desired result, or creating a small pouch to fill with stones and/or herbs to insert into a stuffed toy or pillow, or simply incorporating symbols into a design, whether beading, embroidery, created with intarsia or fair isle, or whatever other method suits your specific craft.

Even in this, I don’t believe such components are necessary. I have used them, and undoubtedly will continue to in the future. But my belief is that ultimately, spellwork is a matter of one’s own mindset and will. Simply by working while in a positive mental and emotional state, and keeping the ultimate purpose forefront in one’s mind, one can engage in spellcraft. It’s a matter of one’s own beliefs and choice as to whether or not to incorporate a request to spirits or deities to strengthen or ‘bless’ the Working. The majority of the energy and power that goes into said spell is personal power; you pull in the energy, you provide the intent, be it a Cleansing, or a Warding, or any of a myriad of other ‘spell’ types.

Myself, I tend to only do protective and healing spellwork. My own morals and ethics don’t allow for spells meant to increase luck, bring monetary fortune, or attract love. Even with my belief that the majority of the power that goes into spellwork is personal power, there is still the importance of intent. Selfish intentions, or the desire to manipulate and ultimately warp another’s will, no matter how well-meaning one might be in such an undertaking, are still things that will attract negative energies and malicious spirits.

Regardless of how much -- or how little -- validity one puts into the idea of spellwork, one must always exercise caution when imbuing an item with intent, and respect the power of that intent.

Breaking The Long Silence

Change is never easy. Even when one is forewarned and has time to prepare -- a planned move, a new job, etc. -- when the moment of change is upon us, it is tumultuous. To different degrees, true, but still an upheaval. Sometimes the chaos can only be likened to a severe storm, as it picks you up, spins you about, and sets you back down again unsure which way is up or what direction you are facing, yourself and possibly others potentially hurting. Even if the change is, in the end, one for the better rather than worse.

The end of last year saw a big change happen in my life, sudden and unexpected. Everything I had come to accept as ‘this is how my life is’ got turned on its head, and I moved to a new city. It left me shaken and disoriented, needing to find my feet again and floundering to figure out which direction this fork in my path was going to take me. There were mistakes and upsets, tangled threads that caused hurt to more people than just myself. Four months later, and there’s still debris to be picked up and cleared out, but finally, things are settling again.

I have long been a firm believer in the concept that nothing happens without reason, even if that reason isn’t readily apparent at the time. If ever. While often figuring out the ‘why’ is important, personally I think that in times like this, it’s less the ‘why’ and more the ‘what next’ that needs to be focused on. ‘Why’ can all too often be a paralysing question, trapping the asker in one place as they try to figure out the answer. ‘What next’ keeps the forward momentum of life going, and even if you need to take one step back for every two forward, you are still going forward.

I can see a future now that leaves me feeling hopeful, rather than just resigned. Despite the pain and heartache, I know this change is one that, ultimately, is for the better.

I’m happier. My health is improving. It’s definitely not all sunshine and daisies, but dwelling on the negative is just as paralytic as focusing solely on the ‘why.’ There’s also far more good to be had with this change than bad. So that’s what I’m focusing on.

One small, but definite good thing, is that my desire to write has returned. Things I had wanted to write about before, that have been lying dormant as my energies have been directed elsewhere, are now bubbling back to the surface, poking me with phrases trying to capture my attention.

Now if only those pokes would come during the day when I'm actually awake and can write, instead of at night after I've not just turned the computer off, but also curled up in bed and am 3/4 of the way asleep. Meef.

New Heroes for a New Generation

Marvel Creates Hearing-Disabled Superhero
With Children's Institute In New York

I saw this article posted on Facebook, read it, loved it, and then broke the cardinal rule of the interwebs by reading the comments on the FB post. They both made me very sad, and very angry.

For the most part, the reactions were positive... if you can call back-handed comments positive. I refuse to name and shame, or even screenshot. I will, however, paraphrase. So many of the comments were preceded with lines such as:

“I’m not belittling these new heroes in any way, but....”
“I think what Marvel is doing is awesome, but....”
“This is a great thing Marvel is doing, but....”

It’s that ‘but’ that brought about the sad and angry reaction. Because it was inevitably followed up by some form of complaint about Hawkeye and Daredevil being ‘forgotten’ or ‘over-looked’ or ‘ignored.’ Well, guess what my fellow Marvel fans: YOU ARE MISSING THE POINT!

Sapheara and The Blue Ear are superheroes created for a comic designed to appeal to a specific target audience. A much  younger target audience than comics featuring Hawkeye and Daredevil are. Also, think about it for a minute: how many of these younger children are even going to be familiar with Hawkeye and Daredevil as comic book characters? I know if I were a parent, I certainly wouldn’t be introducing my children to those particular series until their teens, at least.

The movies, perhaps. I’d have to re-watch Daredevil as I’ve deleted much of it from my memory banks, but the Avengers films, certainly. And in the films, guess what? Hawkeye hasn’t lost his hearing yet!

Maybe your parenting choices are/would be different. Fine, whatever. Not the point. The point is that we, the adult Marvel fans, are not the ones for whom these heroes have been created. It's not about us! It’s about the next generation.

Think about it another minute: how many of our heroes were/are our parents’ heroes? How many of their heroes were their parents’ heroes? And yes, this goes beyond comic books and into the realm of all heroes.

So instead of complaining about Hawkeye ‘getting the shaft’ because it’s Ironman who’ll be getting the honour of introducing these new heroes, how about just simply being supportive? Because while this comic is targeted at children, it’s our voices that are the ones heard. And maybe, just maybe, instead of tearing this apart, we could be building this up into something even better. Because you know what would be cooler than a one-off comic? Sapheara and The Blue Ear getting their own full series.

New heroes for a new generation. And it certainly doesn’t have to stop with hearing-impaired heroes. We don’t need to re-invent or modernise Daredevil or, skewing over into DC for a moment, Oracle. Creating new heroes and heroines in no way invalidates the old ones. In fact, I personally would say that it validates them; they paved the way, so let’s walk down that road they made us, eh?

The Afterlife and Reincarnation: A Personal Theory

Every year as Samhain approaches my thoughts, perhaps unsurprisingly, tend to turn more often
toward the subjects of death, the afterlife, and rebirth.

Somehow, I’m not entirely sure how, I never went through any phase of believing that death was a horrible traumatic thing to be feared. The manner of one’s death, yes, can be quite horrible, traumatic and scary -- we can’t all peacefully slip away in our sleep without pain, sadly. But death, what happens to the spirit and what lies beyond, while always a point of curiosity for me, has never held any terror. Partly, I attribute this to growing up on working farms and the no-nonsense approach of my mother and grandparents to such topics. We hunted and killed animals for food. We raised animals for food. Sometimes non-food animals would get sick or injured and die, or have to be put down. Best case scenario, they’d live long happy lives and go of old age. But the reality of death was never hidden from me. On that note, I also feel compelled to point out that no-nonsense the approach to teaching me might have been, but it was in no way insensitive. They made sure that I also knew that it was okay to be sad, to grieve for the life lost ... but also to honour the life that had been lived.

This being said, I was rather young when my 'aunt' Jan died of lung cancer. Young enough that there wasn’t much difference in my mind about the love one can hold for an animal and the love one can hold for a person. I felt just as much grief over the death of my pony Rascal as I felt when Jan finally passed; I loved them both dearly and species wasn’t a factor. But as much as I grieved for the loss of them in my life, because of how I was taught, I also found happiness and peace in the memories of when they were alive. It didn’t lessen the grief, as such, but I believe it did make it easier to bear. Instead of being angry or feeling cheated out of having such experiences as feeding the snowbirds right out of our hands in winter, I felt -- and still feel -- fortunate for having gotten to have that experience with Jan at all.

I’ve been told by others that I have a rather philosophical approach toward the subject of death, and perhaps that’s true. All I really know is that it’s not a topic that holds any discomfort for me. Over the years, I’ve done a lot of reading into and research about the various beliefs about death and the afterlife in several different cultures, both modern and ancient, that have led to my current theories.

Personally, I have a very strong aversion to the concept of either Heaven or Hell (by whatever Names they may be called) being the soul’s destination for all eternity. I can understand the appeal of an eternal paradise as a ‘reward’ for living a good life... but by what values does one judge a ‘good’ life? While some core beliefs carry across religions, many differ in the extreme. Does that mean that actually, there’s more than one version of Heaven, and which one you ascend to after death depends upon which belief system you adhere to? And what about those who hold that certain acts, if done in the name of their God, will grant them entrance into Heaven, while by many other tenets of belief those same acts would condemn their souls to an eternity in Hell? And as for Hell... why the prevalent belief that one can only attain redemption during their mortal life? Surely, if the soul is eternal, there should be some manner in which it can earn redemption even after death. So many hold to the belief in a Divine Being who is all-forgiving, and yet simultaneously believe in ‘unforgivable sins.’ I could never wrap my head around that.

At this point I feel the need to emphasise: just because I do not fully comprehend or agree with a belief system, does not mean I consider it to be invalid. There are many Paths to be walked, and this diversity of belief should be respected. We choose, or discover, or are led to the Path that ‘fits’ and while that means our Journeys will take us in several different directions and to many different places, they all lead back to the Divine Source. Or so I believe. You might disagree, and that’s okay.

My personal theory -- and I prefer to call it a theory rather than a belief because until I die, I’m not going to know -- and the belief systems that have always resonated the most with me, are those that believe in a continuous cycle of life, death, and rebirth. I believe, quite strongly, that our souls choose to live mortal lives in order to learn, and sometimes to fulfill a specific purpose. What they learn, well, that depends on the type of life they choose to be born into, and the choices they make during that life. If we are judged for how well we’ve learned, or performed our appointed task, I believe that for the most part, we judge ourselves. This may seem conceited to some, because how dare we have the audacity to decide for ourselves if we’ve succeeded or failed and what sort of ‘reward’ or ‘punishment’ we should receive. Allow me to explain my theory.

When in our mortal lives, for the most part we forget what other lives we’ve lived. In part I feel this is to prevent confusion, disconnection, and the possibility of going crazy because some memories may just be too painful, shameful, traumatic or grief-stricken. While some people may be far more sensitive to and connected with their past lives, for the most part I believe that we’re meant to focus on our current lives -- and if something bleeds through strongly enough to awaken memories of a past life, then that means we’ve some serious unfinished business to attend to. Perhaps we got distracted, or prevented, or died before we had a chance to finish -- the possibilities are many.

But once we do pass back into the Aetherial Realm and reconnect with the Spirits and the Divine, all those memories from all those lives are once more available to us because in that form, we have the capacity to keep things separate and not be overwhelmed. Yes, I do hold that there are Spirits -- our Guides and Guardians -- who can help us see our lives from different perspectives and help us fully decide if our goals in our most recent life were met and also help us decide what we want/need to do next and where/when we should go to best accomplish our new tasks. I also believe that Time is a purely mortal construct, so we don’t need to be reincarnated along a linear time-stream. This also means that our spirits can spend as long as needed contemplating their lives and this will in no way impact when they return to a mortal life -- centuries or seconds, not a factor. Nor do we also have to return to the same world/dimension/reality. We have the infinity of the Universe to learn from and explore.

In a way, this theory of mine allows for some version of Heaven and Hell, but a mutable one. The Aetherial Plane is a place of pure thought, will and imagination. Depending on the lives we’ve lived, we may choose for a time to create for ourselves a small personal paradise in which we can contemplate, well, anything and everything. But if we feel that our spirits have been tainted, then we may end up creating our own punishments; our own Hell. This may be within the Aetherial Realm, or it may be in a series of short, brutal mortal lives chosen to inflict upon ourselves the mortal pain we, for whatever reasons we might have, feel we deserve to suffer. But we are not condemned to such suffering forever. Those Spirits who live purely within the Aetherial Realm are always there, waiting for when we’re ready, to help us cleanse and renew our souls and while it’s not they who offer redemption, they offer us the chance for it in the return to the ‘normal’ (for lack of a better word) cycle of reincarnation.

Until someone figures out a way to carry scientific equipment with them when they pass on, and then bring it back again, or discovers the technology that allows us to access, measure, and study what I call the Aetherial Realm, none of us will ever know for certain which theory is correct, or even if any theory is correct, or quite possibly if all of them are correct.

For myself, there are occurrences that have contributed to and reinforced my personal theory. Certain tidbits of knowledge that I have that I know I never learned in this life. Certain mannerisms that for me are instinctual but make no sense when one takes into consideration the culture within which I was raised. Meeting certain people whom I know and feel an immediate and strong connection toward (not always a positive one, mind -- one can encounter past enemies as easily as past friends). I’m sure many of you know the feeling I mean. That “Hey, I’ve just met you and this is crazy, but I feel like I’ve known you my entire life so let’s be BFFs!” feeling, or that “Hey, I’ve just met you and this is crazy, but I kinda wanna rip your tongue out through your anus.” feeling.

Light and dark, good and bad, life and death... balance in all things. Which is why I don’t avoid mentioning the negative when I write posts like this. As much as we might wish for a world that’s all sparkly rainbows, that’s just not reality.

Guides, Guardians, and Totems, Oh My!

Artist Unknown (would like to remedy that!)

While I have not read every single book or article out there about Spirit Guides and Guardians, I have

noticed among what I have read is that some seem to use the terms interchangeably. Given my own personal study and experience, I have to disagree with this. Guides and Guardians are two very distinct and different types of Spirit. One major difference, at least in what I’ve experienced, is that Guardians tend to be permanent, while Guides only come to us when they’re needed and leave once their purpose has been fulfilled. However long that may be varies, of course, so a Guide could wind up sticking around for quite some time, but that doesn’t mean they should be mistaken for or lumped in with Guardians.

For myself, Guides and Guardians have always appeared in animal form, which makes sense given my strong feelings toward and connection with Nature, as well as the environment in which I was raised. I have said before, and undoubtedly will say again, that I strongly believe that our individual interpretations of the Astral and the Divine are shaped in many ways by our mortal experiences, learnings and beliefs, as that is where the base of our understanding comes from. What builds on top of that, well... that depends upon the individual and the Spirit.

In the interest of trying not to ramble off on befuddling and disorganised tangents (though that might happen anyway), I’m going to begin with Guides.

Over the course of my life, I’ve had several different Guides, each offering a different lesson or needed reminder. They have included Mouse, Turtle, Bear, Hawk, Dolphin, Shark, and Snake. Some stayed with me for months, a couple for years, or in some cases a mere matter of weeks. Now, again, what these animals represent often depends upon the interpretations of a given culture, so when researched, one can find slightly differing, or even completely contradictory meanings, reasons for appearing, and spiritual powers ascribed to them.

Some of these Guides have come at points in my life that are not things I’m willing (yet) to share in a public forum. There are two in particular, however, that I will touch on.

Mouse first started appearing during my early teens, and stayed with me for roughly three-ish years. At the time, I wasn’t consciously involved in or actively studying any form of Paganism; I reacted to Mouse on a purely instinctual and subconscious level. It wasn’t until years later, as I began my conscious journey into exploring the many different facets of Pagan and Native beliefs, that I realised why Mouse had come to me at that particular time. The main thing that seems to be agreed upon about Mouse is a reminder to pay attention to trivial, but necessary and important things in life, and to not get lost in larger events or in trying to see the bigger picture. My own personal addition to that is that along with general life details, it can also be a reminder to not take for granted the things that, when compared to the big picture, seem rather small but are in fact quite important. Like everyday gestures of kindness from friends whose presence you’ve begun to take for granted and yet actually, the fact that they’re still staunchly by your side while you’re in the middle of an epic break-down and feel like you’re going completely batshit insane is really, really huge.

Hawk, appropriately enough, came into my life at around the same time that I made the conscious decision to study Paganism. To put it simply, an opening of awareness, enlightenment, and being guided toward a Path you’re meant to follow or purpose you’re meant to fulfill are commonly agreed upon interpretations of Hawk’s appearance. I was guided to meeting J, my Ha’shin and spirit brother, and thus ended my confused bumbling around as he and certain friends he introduced me to gently helped me begin a more structured approach and also helped me to understand things that until I had people to actually discuss them with, had only confused me. Through J, I also gained an awareness and understanding of aspects of the world and people that I’d never even been aware of before. While Hawk is no longer with me, I try to live by the lesson brought to me; to be aware of the world beyond my own little bubble, and always open to new learning.

When it comes to Guardians, at this point in my life I have three. They have names¹, which I will share, but please don’t ask me how I know them. I just do.

Dmitri has been with me the longest. I think quite possibly since I was hatched². For the longest time, all I really knew was that he was a big cat, possibly a leopard or a tiger. I was never really sure because he’s never appeared in any kind of solid (figuratively speaking) form. He’s always an ethereal, shifting silvery-white cat-shape. It’s taken many years for me to properly identify him as a snow leopard.

I think I had on some level always felt his presence, but the first time he fully revealed himself to me was when I was four. I was being stupid with some friends, as young children are wont to be. Somehow one of them had discovered that the angled wooden doors that led down to the cellar were bouncy, almost like a trampoline. So naturally, we made a game out of taking turns to run up, jump on the doors and see how far we could launch ourselves with the springy recoil. If you’re thinking something bad happened, you’re right.

It was my turn, and I made my run up to the doors, jumped... and the world disappeared. I can’t even remember the sound of the doors breaking, though I’m sure there was a crack or crash of some sort, nor the sensation of falling or even landing. Just that one moment there was resistance beneath my feet as I completed my jump, and then blackness. What happened is that the doors had given way, falling open inward and dropping me several feet down onto the cement stairs. I was definitely being looked out for on that day, because I really should have ended up with a busted open skull. Instead, my head bounced off an empty plastic bucket and my body was snapped forward in such a way that I somehow broke my four front teeth off. We assume I hit the edge of a stair. Barring some scrapes and bruises and fat lips, that was the worst injury I suffered from the experience. Anyway.

I had blacked out, though I’m not certain for how long. It can’t have been very long, because my friends above were still caught in that shocked ‘What just happened?!’ silence. It was dark and cool, as you’d expect a cellar to be. Certainly a frightening place for a four year old. But I felt no fear, nor even pain. I attribute some of this to shock, but not all, and I’m sure the skeptics will pass off what I’m about to relate as an hallucination from my brains just having been scrambled by the fall and bouncing off of things.

Dmitri was there. This softly glowing, absolutely gigantic cat crouched down with his tail curled up along one haunch, filling almost the whole cellar. Our gazes met and locked and I have never felt as safe, as protected, and as certain that everything was going to be alright as I was in that moment. It felt like it lasted forever, though it can’t have been much more than a single second. He seemed to nod at me, just once, and then faded from my vision. And that’s when the pain and fear set in and I started screaming my head off, getting the attention of the adults and being whisked off to hospital.

Shadovar was the second Guardian to come to me, but those circumstances are far too personal and painful to share, and not only for myself. He is a Western dragon, pitch black with ivory horns and red-yellow eyes. He is cloaked in shadow, and when he unfurls his wings it seems almost as if thunderstorms exist beneath their folds, clouds roiling and lightning snapping, his roar the thunder. He’s usually asleep, which is a very good thing, because he is an embodiment of rage. It took me far too long to realise that he’s not only a Guardian against outside forces, but also there to protect me -- and others -- from myself; from my rage. For several years I was out of control, my temper lashing out unpredictably and often violently. Eventually, after many struggles and trails, I learned that I could use Shadovar as a kind of siphon. I can channel that rage and violence into him, and he is strong enough to keep it contained and eventually neutralise it so it doesn’t get sent out into the world. I’m not saying that there aren’t times when my temper still gets the better of me and I go off like a super-volcano. But thanks to Shadovar’s presence in my life, I’m not nearly as volatile nor producing nearly as much negative energies as I used to.

Third and most recent is Khanyar, my golden gryphon. While Dmitri and Shadovar both revealed themselves to me, I had to be made aware of Khanyar through outside influence. Given the state I was in mentally and emotionally at the time, I’m not at all surprised that I needed help in realising he was there. He came to me after I got out of a particularly nasty abusive relationship. The mental and emotional abuse this guy had heaped on me had come very close to breaking me. I felt fragile, like cracked porcelain that might shatter at any moment, with just the tiniest of touches. I had come to doubt nearly everything I believed and everyone I loved. I was also silently suffering with having been raped. I was young and naive and honestly believed the bullshit idea that a person can’t be raped by their significant other, so I felt that if I ever tried to tell anyone what had happened -- be it the authorities or just someone I trusted -- I’d be the one held to blame because I’d had consensual sex in the past with the guy.

Khanyar is a constant reminder of my strength, my fortitude, my self-worth -- all things that I had forgotten I had and that the gentle support and love of friends helped me find again. He’s also a terribly vain creature, but this helps balance out my own frequent lack of confidence.

Finally that brings us to Fox. I’m not entirely sure that Totem or Spirit Animal are appropriate terms for him, but I can’t find any other that applies. Fox, for me, is much more than just a symbol or an embodiment of traits that I share. (If you really want to get technical, I share more traits with Kitsune than Fox, but I definitely don’t feel anything like a Kitsune. I’m without a doubt a Red Fox.) I’ve never really been able to find words to properly describe the relationship, and it seems I still can’t. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is neither Guide nor Guardian. It’s very simple, and yet extraordinarily complex -- we are two separate Entities who are one and the same. I am Fox, but I am also me. Fox is me, but also very much himself.


1. Lowercase intentional, and most certainly not to be confused with Names of Power.
2. Short version: I was born via C-section, and also when I was very young my mother would tell me she found me hatched out of a dragon’s egg. The term stuck, because we’re weird and like it that way. :-)

Cosplay Against Bullying

"It's a blessing to be different, not a curse."

I didn't write myself a script or rehearse in any way. This is just me, speaking straight from the heart.

Act Against Bullying
Luna’s Fandoms Against Bullying

I went so far out of my comfort zone to record this, I can’t even. I was shaking, and I still feel a bit nauseous. Also, very anxious. Actually, scratch that. Terrified. It seems silly, I know, but there you have it. I have this irrational desire to snatch it back, delete it, pretend I never put myself out there like this. I won’t, of course. This is something I feel strongly about, and as awkward and full of run-on sentences and pauses that would put Shatner to shame as it is, I stand by my words.

TRANSCRIPT

Right. Well, hello. I am Kaida Stormshadow and I am taking part in the Cosplay Against Bullying Movement. Uhm, which is, basically, pretty much exactly how it sounds. Uhm, a bunch of cosplayers or just, y’know, people in accoutrements -- because we don’t have costumes -- uhm, go and get our geek on and go out to do our small bit to spread awareness about the problem of bullying in our schools, and the fact that in many cases school officials don’t do anything about it.

Now, I can already see eyes rolling and hear cries of “Slacktivism! Go do something useful, because what is marching around in a costume or fan gear going to do?” Well. Every movement has a beginning. Every awareness campaign has a beginning. They all start with an idea, and those ideas need to be taken out into the world. There is a wonderful woman, Featherwolf, who got an idea and she is trying to spread that idea out into the world, and myself, and roughly a thousand other people in various cities are trying to help her spread that idea. Bullying is an epidemic and we are the people trying to find a cure. Slowly. Because as I said, everything has a beginning and sometimes it’s a small beginning.

When children are bullied in schools, that is -- let’s call a spade a spade -- abuse. Verbal abuse. Mental abuse. Emotional abuse. And sometimes it escalates to physical abuse. Now, when we send our children to school, we generally do it with two primary expectations: we expect them to be educated, and we expect them to be safe. But when school officials and the adults that we are placing our children into the care of are turning the other way and ignoring the bullying when it happens, are failing. Us, and our children. They are failing because they are not protecting our children from the abuse that they are suffering. Now, this needs to change.

Bullying has been a problem for a very long time, and it’s been a problem that has largely been overlooked. “Oh, kids will be kids,” and that sort of thing. But guess what? Those kids grow up into adults. And the bullies sometimes get a clue, realise what horrible jerks they were and sometimes even reach out to the people that they bullied and try to make amends or at the very least, apologise. And as for those who were bullied, they sometimes -- quite frequently -- end up going out into the world with crippling social anxieties, or they suffer from severe depression, or any other sort of problem that, y’know, people try to pass off as ‘just in their head’ or ‘cries for attention,’ and that’s just wrong.

When an adult looks the other way, when an adult ignores the bullying, when an adult says, “Oh, if that little girl doesn’t want to be bullied she shouldn’t be carrying a Spider-Man lunch box.” or “If that little boy doesn’t want to be bullied he shouldn’t be carrying a My Little Pony backpack.” they are giving tacit approval to the bullies; to the abusers. They are saying, “This is all right. We condone this behaviour.” Because there are no consequences. It is clearly the victim’s fault, because they are different.

NO! This is wrong. This is wrong and it needs to stop and we need to take a stand. As parents, as friends, as god-parents, as aunts, as uncles, as grandparents, as cousins and family friends, we need to get out there, in our communities, be aware of what’s happening in our schools. We need to listen to our children; to the stories they tell. Whether it’s about another child being bullied, or themselves being bullied, or if they laugh about “Oh, haha, that person is so weak because they like My Little Pony.” We need to show the bullies that this is not acceptable, this is wrong. We need to show the victims that we are there for them, that they are not to blame because of their loves, because of their passions.

Because those passions are what make them unique, what make them special, and what make them treasures to be sent out into the world; to improve it; to make it better.

We cannot live in a bubble and say, “Oh, well, I shouldn’t get involved because it’s not my child.” or “Oh, I’d better not make a fuss. I’d better not cause a scene.” Wrong! Just because it’s not your child today doesn’t mean it couldn’t be tomorrow. And do cause a fuss. Do make a scene. Because if nobody stands up, if nobody says, “This needs to change!” then it’s not going to change. School officials will continue looking the other way; they will continue to place blame on the victims; there will be no consequences for the abusers, the bullies.

This message today is a planted seed. Hopefully it will reach fertile ground and grow, and spread, and flower, and more seeds will spread, and grow, and flower. Because our future belongs to our children. And being different is okay. “It is a blessing to be different, not a curse.” Because those differences are what make us physicists and doctors and artists and actors. And those differences are what we take out to say, “I am going to contribute something. I am going to change the world in some way. I am going to contribute and make it better.” But if those passions are ever squashed, if those dreams are made fun of, then they will be abandoned. And that, is a tragedy.