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Moon Phase = just past half | Weather = constant rain with occasional thunderstorms
Yay! | Current books = I, Strahd by P.N. Elrod
Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg
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Jun 04, 1998
Today started with a bang - at 9:30, I was jolted awake when a thunderclap sounded practically right over the house. It wouldn't have been so bad except that it caught me right in that hynopompic state where I was both asleep and awake. For some reason, I was sure that 'they' had me and I was in for a fight for my life. That was heightened by the fact that VampireKitty ran as hard as he could out of the room and Kitt looked as if he was ready to kick butt. After a few endless seconds, I woke up and I was a bit disappointed. I suppose that I still miss 'the old days'. I have no idea who 'they' are or were and I don't remember the dream I had. Oh well.
Since hopefully someone else will read this, I should introduce myself a bit, hmmm? These days, I go mostly by my Craft name: Dawn Firewolf. You can call me D., Dawn, Firewolf....you get the picture. I am 28 and somewhere back in my distant ancestry is Irish and Cherokee blood. I do have an Indian name - I will keep it between myself and the gods but I will tell you how I got it. I am an artist in search for a new direction, hence the sparsity of my work on these pages...what else do you want to know? Oh yes, I am attending classes at a local alternative healing school and I have been a Childe of the Goddess (read: Witch) for several years now but feel the need for...more. I am at the point where no religion has the answers I seek - but faith on the other hand, does.
I suppose I should say it now - this journal will probably have references in it that may be construed as...crazy. Perhaps it resembles 'in*sanity'. Look at how I broke that up - in*sanity. One of the goals for this journal is to enter and stay 'in*sanity'. Just because my reality doesn't match yours doesn't mean that it's crazy. So please don't write me, telling me how crazy or evil I am.
Where was I? Oh yes, I said I would tell you how I received my Native name, didn't I? Well, here it is: A friend and I were in our favorite spot in a local park which lies beside a fairly fast running creek. It was fall - there was that delicious nip in the air where it's just enough to make you realize that you are alive. We were conducting one of our many impromptu rituals and right as we were raising power, a very imposing Native man appeared to me. He was dressed in the style of the Mound Builders, whose ancient burial grounds are so numerous here. He didn't appear to be old - he looked to be in his prime and he carried himself with the self-assuredness of a warrior. He looked at me. I looked at him. He raised his staff or skull-cracker (I have never been sure which - I was too startled by his very presence to really notice) to the sky and said "____________". At first I thought he was telling me his name...then I realized, he was naming me. Later, I learned that we were quite near one of the ancient burial sites and the warrior who spoke to me was the protector of it. I will say this - the name he gave me is a classic Native name with its many layers of interpretations and meanings. So, I didn't get it in a traditional ceremony...but I got it nevertheless. And I treasure it.
I suppose that is a good stopping point for now. I don't want to sit forever in front of this over-grown Atari.
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