the phagos blog

Gratitude - the art of finding something good and being thankful for it. That’s my definitaion for it anyway, regardless of what anyone or anything else says. I’ve needed one for a little while now, and I can tell when I need one because I’m unhappy at work more than usual. The past couple of days I’ve been a pretty anti-social creature, and very unhappy with things at work. Not surprisingly, I haven’t been thankful for anything, except for coming home from work. And last night, while finishing an article, it occurred to me that I haven’t been grateful.

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In the interest of making my my sabbat rituals available online, here’s the one from Lughnasad, or Lammas. In the future, I hope to have these online prior to the sabbat, not after. Please feel free to copy and/or modify if you want to suit your own tradition. Note that I wrote this ritual to start in the North, rather than the East - the tradition I follow typically starts there, although there are times when I start in the East. I’m not a dogmatist, so if your tradition starts there, change the ritual. Also, I did not include a cakes an ale in this ritual, although most will have it. It’s more about available prep time and outside factors, rather than not wanting to do it.

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At the company where I work, there’s a gentleman who regularly wears a bowtie. This is a bit unusual, but not completely out of the norm. Well, this past week, there was one day where he came in without a tie, something fairly unusual for him. Having taken note of that, when I passed him in the hall I commented on it, asking him where the bowtie was and if he was slumming that day. He jokingly agreed and we went on about the business of doing our work.

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Since I haven’t had a chance to write my next post, here’s some untitled poetry I wrote on my trip to Folly Beach in Charleston a couple weeks ago.

Poem 1
I close my eyes
As the wind rushes by.
Tiny raindrops tickle my skin.
Over the din of ocean waves
coming on shore,
the distant cry of gulls.
Inhaling the fragrance of rain and saltwater,
I open my eyes and see the ocean,
stretched across the horizon
and I am humbled.

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This past week I went to Nashville for a couple days, someplace I haven’t really been before. It was the culmination of events that began about a month ago. I had a couple of psychic readings done at a fair, and both told me I would have an opportunity to move on in the net couple months, putting it in the mid to late September time frame. One of the readings specifically suggested Nashville. He indicated I have a talent for writing, which is true to a certain extent, and said it was my choice, but I would ultimately be happier in the long run if I moved there than if I stay where I am. That came as a bit of a shock to me, as I hadn’t really considered moving to Tennessee, especially to the home of country music, which I don’t really like. But in the interest of not closing off possibilities before I investigate them, I followed some of his suggestions, which culminated in the trip.

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Beginning. The word conjures many associations. Beginner’s luck. A student or traveler starting a journey. A new phase of life. Birth.

Ending. Another word people like almost as little as they like beginning. Plans gone astray. A journey completed. The completion of a thing or action taken. The end of a period in one’s life. Death.

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