Freya’s Night PotPourri

*If you haven’t read the comments to this post, you’re doing yourself a disservice.

*As my brilliant friend E reminds me, laughter is, in fact, the best medicine. Many, many years ago, when I was recovering from breast cancer surgery, my firm had a retreat dinner that culminated in a performance by (and you maybe have to live here to get how funny they really are) The Capitol Steps. I attended out of ambition, still recovering and finding it difficult to stay out late. I sat, next to my colleagues, in a dark room at the Four Seasons and laughed so hard that I almost cried. And, half-way through, I realized that the pain in my arm, which I’d had ever since the day of surgery, was completely gone. It stayed gone long enough for me to get my first, real, good night’s sleep in months and months. And that’s when I truly began to heal. Yes, it later came back and it took a year or so of restorative yoga for me to get (mostly) over it. But I’ve never doubted, since that moment, that laughter can heal.

What makes you laugh so hard that you release endorphins? (Son will tell you that I can laugh at the most inane things. We have a family joke that begins: “See those horses? They’re out, standing in their field,” and that concludes with me laughing so hard that I have to excuse myself from the room. He’s a really tolerant Son. But my ability to laugh at nonsense has likely kept me alive this long and I mean that, literally.)

*Maybe you can share this with your Republican friends. It’s pretty good, and by “pretty good,” I mean: essential to the survival of our planet.

*I’ve been impressed at the outpouring on the web (and, yes, maybe it’s just an indication of the twitterers that I follow and the websites that I read, but, still) of honor for that most American of poets, Adrienne Rich. As I noted, her poetry has played a huge role in my life. She wrote THIS, which is all about my life:

Marie Curie:
she must have known she suffered from radiation sickness
her body bombarded for years by the element
she had purified
It seems she denied to the end
the source of the cataracts on her eyes
the cracked and suppurating skin of her finger-ends
till she could no longer hold a test-tube or a pencil

She died a famous woman denying
her wounds
denying
her wounds came from the same source as her power

* What egrogores said.

*If it rains too hard tomorrow for me to work in the garden, here’s where I’ll be. I shan’t be gone long. You come too.

*As I noted earlier, my fig trees are leafing out and every leaf is a green flame. See the picture above for proof. Here’s a picture of the fruits of their labor.

*Santa Shaman w/ tattoos? G/Son and I are SO there. /hat tip to: Jan

*If you are a Witch, you MUST have a relationship with a landbase. Most modern Witches live in urban areas, big cities, metropolises. How are you Witching in your urban area? I put myself to sleep every night imagining myself in a cabin in the woods. But I wake up every morning in the center of world power, an urban area alongside a river of power, a city full of sculpture, and monuments, and development. And it’s in this real place where I do real magic, circle with like-minded magic workers, and run my roots into the swampy red clay of my landbase. What’s real for you?

*On and off, I’ve been watching this movie all week. How did I miss this when it came out?

/Picture by the blogger; if you link, please link back.

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2 responses to “Freya’s Night PotPourri

  1. Laughter is, indeed, an excellent medicine, for the soul as well as the body. I’ve noticed that the Jewish and the Irish people, both of whom have undergone long periods of oppression, have developed a lovely, dry wit.

    The things that make me laugh vary with circumstances and mood, but good bets are Hal Holbrook’s performances as “Mark Twain Tonight,” and most (but not all) of the films by the Marx Brothers or Laurel and Hardy. Also Anna Russell’s performances. I’ve heard hear analysis of Wagner’s Ring more times than I can recall, and it still makes me laugh.

  2. My vote for the funniest things on earth all involve misunderstandings – one person thinking a conversation is about topic A, the other believing it’s about topic B and you as the audience know the truth. The British version of the show Coupling does this really well and often, and I laugh so hard I can’t breath.

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