I feel like winter's is taking on more stab at trying to reclaim it's throne. This winter storm has been dubbed Vulcan. This means that it's either going to be a logical storm, or that his going to smelt us into a sword with his forge. Vulcan is the Greek/Roman god of fire and the smiths, a patron of the crafts. He and Athena shared the duties as patrons of craft work, he with the fire/metal/forge and she with the woven/fabric/loom. Maybe that means that after the storm it will get warm again, as Vulcan will have forged Spring.
|What Winter Storm Vulcan looks like in Corning, NY (picture from MorgueFile)|
Okay, that a bit of a reach. I love the image, a large muscular giant forging a new sun/star to keep the peoples he watches over safe after the old sun has died. It even borrows from the old lore where Winter is the death of the Sun (God) and so the peaceful Vulcan, guardian of Fire sets to forges a new sun from the old and bring forth Spring to the Lands. Oh, that's good! Classic Greek and Celtic Mythologies merging into a new Myth. I might need to write that one down. My longest running WIP is a fantasy series and this myth could help me finally get a handle on the plot. I have so much background created, but nothing really in the way of plot, yet.
Since I got sidetracked by Greek myths, I should do something around these same myths . My name is Cynthia, who is also known as Artemis (Greek) or Diana (Roman). A goddess of the dark, the hunt, forest, wild things, and confused for the Moon (actually Selene, the actual Moon Goddess). Twin brother to Apollo and borne of Zeus and Leto (a mortal). She is a powerful and sometimes vengeful deity (depends on the story being told), but also mericful to women who have died 'swift and painless deaths' and wild things.
Guided by the Moon,
Bore the name Artemis:
Am the Huntsman-in-Chief.
Goddess of the Dark
Connected to my Brother
Who is Leader of the Light.
He is Apollo and I, Artemis,
Both of light and dark.
|Cerridwen - The Magic Circle (Waterhouse)|
Guided by the Lion
And possessed by Fire
Which burns inside me, always.
Connected by the Flame
Which is ruled by the Sun.
I have found peace,
Among the light and the dark.
Guided by the Circle
Where is now I stand.
Am the Eagle,
Thus guided by All.
Connected to the world,
By the fire which we stand.
I am, all that I am,
Now kneeling before the King.
I among Seven go to fight
The Unknown demons.
The above mentioned poem is based a poem upon Artemis, my name sake; and have taken strength from her persona. She is my patron Goddess from the Greek pantheon and I also have as a patron Goddess, Ceridwen in the Celtic pantheon, she is of rebirth, transformation, and inspiration. She is the keeper of a cauldron of 'Poetic Inspiration'. This is most likely a poet, being inspired by a Goddess of Poetry. I can clearly go on and on.
I had not journal at all last week, partly because my schedule was goofed up and I was not able to devote my mornings to my journal time. Mornings are great for offloading some of my weightier thoughts, also I feel that in the morning (even if I am still sleepy), I am more aware of my thoughts and even my dreams (if i catch them early enough). Dreams are a fickle breed, like wild horses, very hard to catch. Morning is the best time to wrangle them, usually right about the time my alarm first goes off. So, I am back to regular journaling. Feels good too.
Been reading Inheritance like a mad woman, and am almost to page 600. I look at it and marvel at Mr. Paolini writing, but at the same time I get really irritated when he goes on for pages about some of the most mundane details. Sometimes you don;t need to be THAT detailed. On the up side, I really love his characters. I am also hoping that after Inheritance that I can make quicker work of my Goodreads 2014 reading challenge. I pledged to read 25 books this year and am getting a bit behind.
Tempest has had a long weekend break and as we are gearing up for more intense rehearsals, it was a nice break. I have spend time getting my last 2 scenes memorized. I can say that my lines are all in my head. Now is the time to get the lines perfected and into Trinculo's character. I want his voice to sound deeper, meaning I need to lower my voice (as best as I can being a woman). If I can borrow David's camera I want to record my first (only) monologue in the show. It might help me to find my Trinculo.
It's Raining, it's Pouring, the Old Man is snoring!!!
So, Dear Readers, what are you doing on this rainy day (or maybe it's snowing or sunny where you are)?
I am going to be courting the muse (see Susan Werner, Courting the Muse). I am home from the day job, because of the weather. Not a problem. I got this! Time to use the rain and the serenity to my advantage. I am the master of my own destiny.
|Words by James A. Owen|
Have a fantastic rest of the week, Dear Readers and Writers. I shall have a new non-ROW80 post up by the end of the week. Keep smiling!
Remember to visit your friendly neighbourhood writers and bloggers at AROW80's Blog Hop!
Time for some more coffee and music. Maybe I can catch my Muse. Feeling better this morning, even with the rain, I am cleansed. Going to make the most of today. I want to offer something for you, Dear Readers (and Writers). A writing prompt, maybe? I give you poems galore, but today I offer you a writing prompt. As I have been given prompts in the past, I shall pass it on. Write for 10 minutes, do not worry about grammar or spelling. Just writing with reckless abandon for 10 minutes. If you feel comfortable, please post to my comments section.
Topic: "When the Rain Stops..." and GO! Here's mine:
When the rain stops, I can only imagine what the world will look like. I am drowning in my own little alcove. Watching from the windows, like a stalker that is dry in a world of water and rivers and sheets of rain pouring down.
I am even so lonely when it rains. There never seems to be anyone around. Yet I watch and wait.
What will I do if the rains actually stop?
I cannot even fathom than. It's been raining for ever so long. I feel like a princess at the top of the tower, waiting for her prince. Just waiting. Even the world around me seems dull. I have books and paints, but nothing really interests me. What I want is to be out after the rains have stopped. When maybe I can set foot on the ground, feel the sun upon my face, and dance with butterflies.
Yet, it is still raining. And my heart is damp, soaked straight through. Just like the rain through the bare branches, soaking the ground and the drowning the world in an Ocean of mist.
I just want the rain to stop. I want the sun to come out and warm my bones; to dry the mud soaked ground and my dampened heart. Maybe someday the rains will stop, until then I have to watch from the windows of my own fortress. A place of solitude, where only I reside, with my books and paints.
Maybe, I stop watching it rain. Maybe that is why I am sad. Maybe I should go out of my fortress, my sanctuary from the world. Maybe the time is right, and then the rains will stop and the sun will come out. Maybe I can control the weather. Maybe it's all me?
Oh, when will the rains stop? Only when I choose them to...will they? Will they....