Progris Riport

I am writing to report on my progress in the field of archery.

There has been some!

When I first started learning, I complained (loudly and often - as I am wont to do!) that my ample bosom got in the way of the string. The very polite men in the class wisely said nothing, except my teacher, who perforce was compelled to respond to my complaints. He said something about an "open stance," a way of standing wherein the string would be less likely to bisect my boob. 

I ignored the advice, of course, as I do most advice, and am please to report that after a few months I simply improved enough that now the string doesn't come anywhere near the girls.

I've also received my first official token: a White Arrow. That indicates my standing. I'm not entirely sure how good that is, but I do know it's not the bottom, and that makes me happy!

I've gone from an 80cm target down to a 40cm target, and once or twice per 90-minute session I manage to lob an arrow into the middle of it! That makes me very happy! Occasionally, I even manage a "grouping:" which is when all three arrows land close together. A grouping means the archer is being consistent. And being consistent is everything!

I have had one consistent problem though - I'm always off to the left. All right, all right, enough with the "out in left field" or "I guess you really are a socialist" jokes! But seriously, I'm hitting consistently in the correct height to hit the bullseye, only I'm hitting to the left of it.

And I adjust my sight over and over, and I keep hitting to the left.

Today, in desperation, I thought I'd hit on the brightest idea yet - get Genius Archer Boyfriend to use my bow! See, he's been bugging me about being consistent and about my release till I'm absolutely sick of hearing about it. Today I got the bright idea - let Boyfriend fire the bow! If HE hits to the left, then I could go "Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah!" and say "See! I TOLD you something was wrong with the bow!"

I got a dirty look from Boyfriend, but he dutifully shot off 6 arrows. Two went left, but four were squarely in the center.

Sigh. I guess it must be my release.

Or something.

However, as a final note about something I'm doing consistently...I used to only use the same three arrows over and over. Whenever I'd switch arrows, I'd shoot wild. I'd demonstrate this to Boyfriend or to the teacher or to anyone who would watch. But today, I switched arrows with absolutely no change in my result.

I still shot to the left. In the same place as the other arrows I'd been using.

So at least I'm consistent!

Trouble in the HeadHouse

I just had a seven-day-long migraine. That's something of a record for me, since about 20 years ago I started being cared for by a wonderful neurologist here in Montreal who pioneered one of the meds I take. I went from having 15-20 migraines per month down to having 1-2 per year under his care. So I'm pretty impressed with him, and with the different meds and treatments he's given me over the years.

And the meds and the treatments have changed over the years, too. Because the reasons I get migraines change from time to time. The last bout I had, in 2015, was due to trouble in my cervical vertebrae, and I needed injections in two of them.

I'm on track to see him again - he's got 3000 patients - yes, I said three THOUSAND - so when I finally decided, on day five of my migraine, that it was time to call his office and speak with the nurse who schedules his emergency appointments, I was grateful that he had a nurse who could talk me through what to do until he could see me, and who could decide how quickly I could be seen.

One of the questions she asked me though, was, had I been under any particular stress lately.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Where do I start? Boyfriend has been out of work for 7 months. Now there's an opportunity on the horizon, but it would mean moving.

Far.

To the boondocks.

Wait a minute - I has a job!

A good job. That I enjoy. That I'm moderately good at. That I get a great deal of satisfaction from. And have positive social interactions in. And learn a lot about life from. Learn a lot about everything from - I work in a faculty of Education of a world-class university - you have to be particularly dense not to learn stuff working there!

So...if Boyfriend gets this job out in Timbuktu...what do I do? Because I don't exactly make a lot of money, working 3 days a week.

Definitely not enough to live in a house with 2 cats.

And Boyfriend can't afford a house and an apartment. So, if the job comes, the house here goes. And the cats and I go...somewhere else. Either with Boyfriend or...???

Hubby has kindly offered, which sort of stunned me. Nice and tidy, on the surface, but...

There are always buts! Wasn't Hubby the one who drove me nuts in the first place? Can I live with Hubby? Granted, the kiddies are all growed up now, the situation is different...But is Hubby different? Am I different enough not to fall into the old bad habits?

And was all this enough stress to bring on a 7-day migraine?

Nope. There was one last straw. That got on my last nerve. Don't you love that expression? I learned that from my Stepsister. I love my Stepsister. She's a lovely woman. She's in Louisiana, and she's taking care of my aged and Alzheimer-afflicted Daddy. She's a saint.

But she's also my other problem. 

See, I don't much care for "The South." I don't like the politics, and I don't like the religion. The religion is what started me on the road to mental illness, back when I was 5 years old. An authoritarian regime based on a patriarchal mindset which had no place or tolerance for thinking "outside the box." A system of thought-control that, while never overtly disapproving of higher learning, because that would be a dead giveaway, subtly discouraged it by praising the simple fishermen of biblical times.

A system of thought control that always had a bible verse to throw at you the minute you had a doubt or a question or an idea that didn't fit within the prescribed spectrum of acceptability, shot like a missile at your thoughts to bring you back into the box. To never let you question things.

To keep you in line.

I wrestled so hard to keep my faith. For years and years and years, I fought off my reason and my intellect. But in the end, mental health won.

There is no such thing as a virgin birth. If a baby was born, sex happened.

The universe was not created. It happened. Life evolved, which is WAY more miraculous than any "miracle" these bible-thumpers can come up with!

The bible was written by MEN. Specifically, Jewish MALES. Translated by MALES. Prominent, politically powerful MALES. It is predominantly misogynistic, and it spouts the political views of the males of the times in which it was written.

The jews are NOT "God's chosen people." The just wrote a book claiming they were. And, since they have always been a powerful military force, winning a lot of battles, the conquerers write the history.

The bible contains some interesting points. But it is NOT the only book in the world!

But people down in the south don't know that. They think it's the only book worth reading. They exclude every other piece of information from their consciousness unless it fits their mental map - the map they drew from their sunday school bible map of the world.

And down there, it's all mixed up with nationalistic fervor, to add insult to injury. It's not just god, it's "god-and-the-flag."

I love my Stepsister, she is the kindest soul I've ever met. But the vitriol she reposts on facebook is horrifying. She doesn't even see the language that she uses is venemous. She doesn't hear the hatred that she's spewing. She thinks she's being loving and kind and helping to educate.

I've been trying to get her to understand that she's the victim of propaganda. But she doesn't have a "propaganda" filter. Everywhere down there they are bombarded with it. It's the way everyone speaks to everybody. Her husband listens to a radio show daily that would be banned here, because it's hate speech. He thinks it's political dialogue. It's hate speech!

They really, sincerely believe that Muslims burn Christians alive, down there. They do not understand the word "radicalized" or what a small portion of the population that represents, or what a "Christian" equivalent would be. If it wears a hijab, or sports an unkempt beard, it's an enemy.

They really believe that. And I can't get through to them.

And I can't get through to them that Donald Fucking Trump is a Nazi. A hate-monger. An idiot. A greedy businessman who cares less for them than he does for a pimple on his arse. Who is going to ruin the country, ruin their lives, and take the rest of the planet down with him.

And the abortion debate. Oh my head, I just can't believe this shit. I can't understand how a compassionate woman, who has herself been put through the hell of childbearing, could wish that on someone who didn't want it.

There is no reasoning, and I can't stop the fight. In my head.

And here's the whole problem: it never goes away for me. 

Like my neurologist said to Hubby - your wife can never tune this out. There is a genetic defect in her brain where this noise is ALWAYS front and center in her perception, and she can't ever tune it out.

My Stepsister goes to bed at night, and, at least I imagine, sleeps.

I don't sleep, because I'm having the abortion debate with her. All night. Explaining it to her. Arguing with her. Pleading with her. Reasoning with her. Showing her the satistics - that the crime rate went down, NOT when they "got tough on crime," but when women finally had access to safe, medical abortions! When unwanted babies weren't born, and mothers could continue working, and people were above the poverty line! It's not money that's the root of all evil, it's POVERTY!

Or I'm screaming at Trump. Or I'm sobbing my heart out for the dead, starving and dying polar bears. And for the dead, starving, burning animals everywhere. Or arguing with my Stepbrother to tell him to move to higher ground and get all my Stepsisters and the other Stepbrother to move to higher ground because the climate deniers are in power now and the oil producers are going to kick it back into high gear and the ice caps are going to melt and there won't BE a Louisiana soon! Or a Florida, or lots and lots of places on this Earth. And god ain't gonna save ya.

So...to answer the nurse, who asked me if I was under any particular stress...yeah. You might could say that. 

I'm on my last nerve. 

And Trump, and republicans and conservatives and nazis everywhere, are stepping on it. 

And people I love are stepping on it.

And I can't save them.

And once again, I'm going to have to choose life. As I did before, I chose to live with my sanity intact, to follow the paths that bring me peace, that make me whole.

I cannot live with hate. With guns. With nazis. With no religious freedom, or rather, with religious-freedom-only-if-you're-a-member-of-MY-religion! With people who scream their rights are being taken away if you suggest that guns be registered, but who see nothing wrong with banning entry into their country based on religion. Especially if they know ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about that religion!

I can't do this. I can't get through to them, I can't help them. I will try, one last hopeless time. I will say the same thing to my Stepsister as I said to my Father, oh so many, many years ago, when he was all for bombing the Communists off the face of the earth.

I will say this:

If Jesus were alive today, and speaking to the American people, He would not tell them the parable of the Good Samaritan. He would tell them the Parable of the Good Muslim.

Imbolc, as I Understand It

And there's a lot I don't understand, but Imbolc is one of my favourite pagan celebrations. It's a cross-quarter day: half way between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. The last vestige of it in our modern world is Groundhog day.

The word "Imbolc" means "in milk." At this time of year, in the climates where these traditions began, sheep and goats are giving birth, and the farmers who care for them now suddenly have extra milk, because the animals can give more milk now. To subsistence farmers, this is reason to celebrate, having this source of extra protein.

It is a time of celebrating the turning of the wheel of the year. It is light out again, and the light grows stronger daily. There is extra nourishment. We give thanks.

I personally welcome the light back by placing a candle in every window and every doorway of my home. And tonight we eat a dish made with milk or cheese. My home-made yogurt is just about ready to be strained and chilled as I write this!

I love that it's simple.

The aspect of the Great Goddess that I am mindful of at this time is Brighid. Known as the goddess of the forge and smithcraft, poetry, and healing, she's very well-known among the Irish, and being of Irish descent I therefore have an affinity for her!

But I like especially the candle bit. Catholics call this day Candlemas - when they would bring their candles to the church to be blessed.

Back in those old-fashioned days, it must have been something to see candles in every window and doorway, when there were no other lights around.

So this is what I do.