tinhuviel | Entries tagged with activism

Something alarming occurred the other day, with which I am only now coming to grips. I’m still uncertain of how I feel about it, so of course, I have come to the Cliffs to process.

Here’s the thing: When Cameron and I went up to Asheville on Thursday, I felt at home, but I also experienced some unease. It did not feel like when I arrived in Duncan. Asheville felt like my heart, my origins, but Duncan felt like family. And family is what I desperately need right now. Also, most of my non-Internet Tribe reside in the Greenville-Spartanburg area, which encircles Duncan.

If I went to Asheville, I would be on my own. Completely. And I’m not sure I want to do that anymore. In San Diego, I discovered that I was on my own pretty quickly and, even though I was technically with family, I maintained an undercurrent of discomfiture and disconnection for almost the entire four years I was out there.

Given my seizures and other health problems, do I really want to risk total seclusion? In all honesty, I’m not sure.

Janice is letting me stay with her for a trial month. It will be a financial boon as I look for a place, but I’m not currently comfortable landing in a place where I no longer know anyone, have no family, and no way to get to a doctor if I had an emergency. It may not be the wisest move for me to make, and I’m doing my best to make wiser choices, considering the disaster that was the move West.

The grass is not necessarily always greener and, even though the Upstate is the Armpit of Hell, it’s not the Taint, which would be Linda Vista, the neighbourhood in SD in which I lived. That said, the reasons for each infernal designation are radically different. The Upstate is the Armpit because of the political and spiritual climate out here. Even though a good chunk of the population is fraught with narrow-mindedness and ignorance, they’re decent folk, and they understand so much more clearly the importance of family and friendship. People in San Diego do, too, but the ones I had the most contact with were not among them, so my living environment out there is what makes Linda Vista the Taint of Hell. It’s no shade on the city of San Diego itself.

The rent here is cheaper, too, which would be a serious blessing for the duration I get settled back in, and discover the things I need to purchase to properly do so. Asheville still isn’t out of the question. I still dream of living in the place I was at my happiest, but perhaps it’s time for me to simply be content. Besides, my work in activism would be better served in an area that needs it. I don’t want to preach to the choir, I want to reach people who have no idea they are living in bondage, a bondage of the mind and spirit. San Diego is woke as fuck, and Asheville is deeply aware, but the Upstate is caught up in the machinations of Aggressive Stupidity, and many people being carried along in that wave don’t know they have options.

So, yeah, I’ve got a lot to think, pray, and write about these next few days. In the meantime, I’m keeping all options open, and I’m waiting for the place I need to be, to be revealed. I’ll know it when it happens.

Mood: contemplative
Where? Aunt Janice's
Music: silencia
Crossposts: http://tinhuviel.livejournal.com/2763456.html

As I spend my last few hours in San Diego, I'm pondering more deeply the circumstances that have brought me to this point of return to the South, and the possible reasons for this change in my life.

Honestly, I cannot bring myself to believe that my reclamation of my faith happened because I was destined to go back to South Carolina, and North Carolina in short order. That area, barring most of Texas, is the most dangerous in America in recent history to be a Witch.

I have never been one to back away from a challenge or a frightening situation. It doesn't mean that I'm brave in any way; rather, I guess I'm determined beyond the point of self-preservation. I was never in the broom closet, and I never intend to be. But being an Out Witch brings with it the risk of discrimination, abuse (primarily verbal...for now), and even harm, in this bleak period in our history.

But that's exactly why I feel going back is my destiny. I have always known that I was ready to pay any price for my freedom as a woman and a child of the Goddess. Not just that, but I am willing to forfeit myself in order to ensure the freedom of my sisters and brothers who reside outside the circle of xtian inclusion. I am going back to try to prevent the American Taliban from eroding American laws to the point where they can wreak havoc on the lives of over 50% of American citizens.

When I learned about the Burning Times, and first heard the slogan "Never Again The Burning," it moved me like nothing else before. To suffer loss, torture, and an often excruciating death simply for being a certain gender, worshipping a different way, or holding unpopular opinions is unspeakably horrific and, to be living in an era where this could very easily happen at any time, both frightens and enflames me.

I have already signed up with some local Meet Up groups involved in the resistance, and I plan on expanding my activities once I am permanently settled somewhere. Considering my new location, despite it probably being in Asheville, I realise that I am risking my life by fighting for what I believe, but I have never felt more alive in once again embracing my Inner Activist.

Working for change, or at least the maintenance of our current freedoms, is worthy and valid wherever you do it, but doing so in an area where seeing what the threat to our way of life at work firsthand brings an urgency and validity to that work. The gravity and urgency of our plight isn't as apparent in places like San Diego, where it is of little consequence who or what you are, or how you identify yourself in this world. Even though a lot of people in San Diego say the city is conservative, compared to other areas of California, to me it's a Hippie paradise! That alone is the reason why I am eager to be publicly active back East. It should be of no consequence to anyone else how you live your life, and it is for that ideal that I will be struggling.

I cannot do that in a liberal location. For me, I need to be on the front lines, and that means working on the buckle of the Bible Belt, whether it be with others like myself, or solitarily. I believe this is why I came back to the Craft right before I learned I'd be moving. Everything has fallen into place in accordance with this path. When I first started out in Wicca, I was always socially/politically motivated, besides being spiritually moved to the ways of the Goddess. The only thing that has changed from those early days, is that I am even more resolute than before, and I have almost a quarter of a century of experience under my belt.

I'm excited for what lies ahead, even if it means distress, discomfort, or even death. My life is in service to the Goddess in all Her forms, primarily Mother Earth, who needs Her children to come to Her defence more so than ever before. I'm ready to take up arms, be it figurative or literal, to fight the growing menace and, if it is at all within my power, I will work tirelessly to guarantee that, never again, shall there be another burning.

It should be of note, too, that I found my silver Triskele pendant, still on its chain. I haven't worn it in about three years, and it's been missing since last year. After scrubbing it and cleansing it, I placed it back around my neck. If the timing of this event isn't symbolic, I have no clue what I'm talking about, and I never will.

Mood: determined
Where? the house
Music: Bonnie Tyler - Total Eclipse of the Heart
Crossposts: http://tinhuviel.livejournal.com/2759170.html

About three hours ago, the Mother Unit and I went to the Apple Store in Fashion Valley to throw in our support of Tim Cook’s refusal to cave to the FBI’s intimidation methods to break into people’s cell phones. As we waited for the rally to begin, we got into discussion on what we should chant ‘cos, at the time, the rally felt more like a funeral. I suggested FIRST YOUR PHONE, THEN YOUR HOME. The people seemed to dig it, but the news crews in attendance ate it up. They specifically requested we chant that when they began covering the rally.

Afterward, the Unit and I went by Rubio’s to get Matt some fish tacos, then by the grocery store so I could buy some ice cream and cottage cheese. By the time we got home, the local ABC affiliate had already posted a video, and Times of San Diego had posted a news story, the headline being Apple Corps at Fashion Valley: ‘First Your Phone, Then Your Home’.

Here’s the Channel 10 news video. The Unit and I are front and center. I also managed some free Shriekback advertising with my ultra-groovy Shriek tee.

Mood: amused
Where? the house
Music: The Glitch Mob - Black Aura

In 2009, I took one of a litter of Beagle pups that had been born on a farm. I named him Fitzgerald and, for the few months Aunt Tudi and I had him, he was an absolute joy.
Except for one thing...

On our return from grocery shopping one day, Fitzgerald met us at the car. You may be inclined to think, "So what? That's what dogs do!" But, see, my yard is completely fenced in, thanks to another Beagle in my life, Henry Herman, who ate all the wiring out from under my car. I figured there had to be a hole in the fence somewhere.

I investigated, and found one spot Fitzgerald could squeeze through if he really wanted to. I blocked it off and figured the problem was solved.

It was not.

The next week, coming back from the store, Aunt Tudi and I watched slack-jawed at Fitzgerald bouncing merrily alongside the car, acting like he was herding some nerfs. But I couldn't find anywhere in the fence that was compromised.

A few days later, Janice called to inform me that Fitzgerald was up at her and Uncle Michael's house, and she saw how he was getting out.

Fitzgerald, wee escape artist that we is, or was when he was a pup, was climbing the fence to get out and follow whatever scent he'd caught. He could climb out, but didn't seem as confident trying to climb back in. Not only that, but he was almost guaranteed to be hit by one of the speeding maniacs who lived further down on Paul's Drive or facing a fate worse than car homicide. He could have been taken by people who could sell him to less than reputable labaratories, where he'd be caged, tortured, even mutilated, then usually killed.

The lady who initially told us about the Beagles said that she could take Fitzgerald back. We were assured he'd be living a good farm life with wide open spaces to roam, as that would have been his gig had I not snatched him up in my arms, suffering from full-on Beagle Fever. The last I heard, Fitzgerald is living the good life out in the country. Considering the chaos that life has been since 2011, I'm glad I gave him back.

After Toby passes, assuming he goes before I do, I don't see myself with another dog. My age, living arrangements, and health concerns make it all too clear that bringing another dog "home" would only end in grief and god knows what else when I'm gone. That's not fair to the dog. I don't like the idea of never having another dog in my life, especially if it's a Beagle but, when a decision you make will have bearing on more lives than just your own, it would be beyond unethical to make a pooch believe s/he has found their forever home, then find out their forever home called in dead, having hanged herself from the Cabrillo Bridge with a dog leash.

Looking at the possibility of future adoptions, then looking at the peevish expression on Fitzgerald's face, I am certain I'm making the best decision for everyone who is, or might be, involved or affected in the matter. That said, if anything should happen to me, don't do the flowers thing. And no, I'm not engaging in suicidal ideation. I'm just writing this as though it were a tragic dog drama lauded by the Academy Awards. Anyway, instead of purchasing dead posies for a dead person, give the money to the Beagle Freedom Project. Click their logo seen in this paragraph to learn more about the BFP, the Beagles they have rescued, and their plans to rescue even more as soon as they can.

Even better, this handy-dandy app does not require death for you to get involved right now. In fact, instead of endorsing death on any level, purchasing the Cruelty Cutter will help you save lives and spare others a grim, pain-filled existence.

Sally forth to buy the Beagle Freedom Project's app, Cruelty Cutter, that will allow you to shop cruelty-free, as well as add your voice to the thousands demanding corporations end their unnecessary, immoral, and antiquated research methods.

The app is cheap, but it works like a charm, and the $2.99 you spend to get it will go to help the organisation rescue and rehome Beagles who have spent most, if not their entire lives locked in a cage that's locked in a laboratory.

Do it for Fitzgerald, the pooch who earned his honorary title, The One that Got away!

Mood: lonely
Where? the house
Music: Fluke - YKK

This picture, which will take you to the Satanic Temple's website if you click it, may get some people's panties in a bunch, but I'm expecting the ones who take offense also support public land being used to provide citizens with religious messages, statues, displays, and so on, but only as long as the messages are xtian. Because of the high probability that those who frown on my opinions here are the perpetrators, even if expressed passively, of the destruction of American society, and I really couldn't care less if I hurt their tender feelings.

What is so glorious about the Satanic Temple's method of exposing this blatant hypocrisy is that they present logical arguments that can't rationally be refuted without the objectors relinquishing their religious privilege or coming across as the lunatic fringe extremists that they really are. The Temple also provides proof of the double standard theocrats have long enjoyed and employed to their benefit, via public records, laws, amendments, and so on, presenting to the government at the center of whatever religious spat is currently heating up all of the documents that support their claims and requests to take part in true religious liberty. They do this in a methodical, rational, objective way, which sadly seems alien, given the insanity the xtians have inflicted on the US for decades. This ploy is just pure genius, because when the xtians come in direct conflict with the Satanists in any forum that is easily accessible by anyone, they invariably look like the fruit loops they really are, in contrast to the calm, collected, professional demeanor of the "bad guys."

In addition to all this, the Satanic Temple has been able to editorialise our current society, highlighting how truly fucked up America is, mainly because of efforts on the part of our American Taliban to erase the lines that separate Church and State. Also, from what I understand about their ideology and religious observances, they are furthering their own spiritual evolution on the path they have chosen by doing all of this. As I said on someone else's timeline a few hours ago, who better to play Devil's Advocate than an organised group of actual, practicing Devil's Advocates? What's even more hilarious is the fact that the theocrats are directly responsible for disseminating the Satanic Temple's message by making underhanded demands for so-called "religious freedom." When jackholes get their arses handed to them by people employing the very tactics said jackholes have been perfecting for decades, a can of Red Bull gets its wings.

...and I cackle with blissful abandon.

Mood: impressed
Where? Home
Music: Shriekback - Bittersweet

I forgot to mention yesterday that I met a fellow liberal at the Duncan post office whilst out and about. Well, Aunt Tudi and I both met her. I had to compliment her on her car, then we got to chatting about our rare breed in this area and exchanged e-mail addresses. I got an email from her last night letting me know of the upcoming activities, one of which is Saturday morning at 9 AM ~ a Democratic organisational meeting. Aunt Tudi and I are planning on attending before I head over to Llew's for a visit.

( fellow liberal's car )

I didn't go see the orthopaedist today. Her office called to reschedule because Dr. Jaworski had fallen ill. So, I go next Friday instead. It's probably for the best because of my fall from a few days ago, thanks to my knee. Where I hit my face, I have developed a fabulicious bruise that makes me look like a victim of domestic violence or an extra off the Jerry Springer Show.

( lookie )

I hope it's faded considerably by Saturday. I'd hate to give all the liberals the wrong impression.

Mood: sore
Music: Law & Order: HTML