My dog thinks I'm the most amazing person she knows.

If I leave the room, she comes to see what miracles I'm preforming.

She waits patiently for me to give her a bit of attention.

She drapes herself around my shoulders and sighs with contentment whenever I sit down to knit. 

She sits at my feet as I spend seemingly endless hours online

She dances with delight every time I return from a long or short trip.

Even when I make mistakes

Even when I'm not kind to others

Even when I'm not gentle with myself

She loves me unconditionally and thinks I hang the moon. 

If I'm the kind of person my dog thinks I am

That means I'm an incredible, marvelous person

capable of wonderful, outstanding things.

If that's true, why is it so hard to believe that of myself?

Could it be my self love reserves are running low? 

Self love can be a very confusing concept to grasp as people
often feel conflicted between it and egotism.

I don't want to be thought of as egotistic

So I minimize my accomplishments.

I deflect complements or deny them all together

I put myself in a victim state

A state that weakens me and disconnects me from Goddess
(God/Great Spirit/ Source)

I know people who constantly talk about themselves.   
I'm sure you know them too.

What I've learned working with Aphrodite on self love is

that person that who talks about herself constantly
isn't filled with self love. 

That person is trying to fill herself looking to outside resources.

That person is saying no one else cares about me

and there isn't enough love in the world.

That person probably believes she will never have the love she needs

I didn't want to be that person

So I worked at it and came to realize self love truly is
a gift that honors me and my spiritual source.

And by honoring myself, I learned to honor the uniqueness of others
and my connection to them.

But it's not a one time thing.

I continually work with Aphrodite

and practice honoring myself with the gift of self love.

Honoring myself  for who I am right now

in all of my imperfect perfection.

And believe I truly am the kind of person

My dog thinks I am

Will you join me dear one?

Today is the day I offer you some of my favorite music that feeds my spirit and fills my soul.  Soul Food.  I hope it feeds your spirit too.

Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough briar,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats, spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In their freckles live our savours.
I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits, I'll be gone;
My queen and all her elves come here anon!
~Fairy, scene i, A Midsummer Night's Dream, William Shakespeare

Today it is raining and kind of dreary outside.

All I want to do is curl up and go back to bed. 

In fact I've felt like I just need to be wrapped in
a blanket of comfort all week. 

I'm not sick but I just don't feel right. Ever feel like that? 

When I get to feeling like that I know I need a wellness day.

When I was younger my mom would have mental health days. 

She'd call them her "I'm too well to go to work and
deal with nonsense" days.

Sometimes I'd be off with her and we'd make soup
and grilled cheese sandwiches eating them in bed with her.

Sometimes we'd watching old black and white movies on TV.

Sometimes we'd just talk.

I've been thinking a lot about my mom these last few days.

Still grieving her physical absence even though she's been gone
for nearly two years.

And on these weepy kinda days I'm extra gentle and show myself some
much needed love. 

I started last night, mothering myself with a cup of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich in bed.

I watched old Sherlock Holmes movies in bed.

And wrote a letter to my mom.

How about you dear ones?  

Has it been too long since the last time you mothered yourself? 

Get your calender out and schedule a date. 

Keep this time as an unbreakable sacred appointment.  

If there is one thing the ritual of taking tea has taught me is that I deserve
as much nurturing as I give to others. 

You do as well.

I have no hand for drawing, nor any skill with using the
paint program on the computer, so I asked my dearest sister friend
to draw my vision out and  stand with me as it was etched into my skin. 

She agreed to both with delight setting about to create what I had asked, refining it until I declared it better than I had imagined. 

Having more experience with these things she visited tattoo shops
with me until we found one that felt correct in handling the sacredness
of this moment for me. 

We secured the date and time, then I set about with my final
preparations.

The night before, I cleansed myself in a ritual bath of sea salt
and herbs freshly picked from my balcony garden. 

I set up sacred space and cast a circle giving offering to Goddess
speaking to her of my intent to continue to serve her.

Afterward, I settled down into a fitful sleep, excited and apprehensive
about how my life would change...

So there we were, the incessant cacophony of the tattooing needle
rattled my entire skeleton as the artist swiftly went about his work. 

As the needle came near my shoulder blades, the pain became
almost too intense to bear. 

During those agonizing moments, I chanted softly and moved into a meditative state of deeper silence to allow him to finish.

Finally, an audible click rendered the needle silent in my ears but my bones continued to jangle about for a few minutes more. 
Turning to look at the instruction page he gave me, I rather awkwardly tried not to rub my back against the seat and failed miserably.

"How do you feel?" she asked as the artist cleansed and bandaged my new artwork for me. 

"Well," I said breaking my dazed silence, "it wasn't child birth."

"Are you ready?" he asked to my back.  I looked at my Priestess sister,

smiled weakly, and nodded to him over my shoulder. 

As his tattooing instrument touched my skin. 

the white hot shear of pain brought me to a cold sweat. 

I sat there in stunned silence as he worked, my friend witnessing.

My dedication to the Great Goddess had begun.

Several months prior we'd received word of our return to the US from Europe.

Though not giving a specified date, I felt certain it would be after Hallows.

During my time in Italy and again in Germany, I had lived the life of a

Priestess of the Old Ways, visiting ancient temple sites,

dancing alone on moonlit beaches, expressing my joy in finding Goddess there. 

I met other Goddess women, celebrated the seasons  with them and
formed a small tribe of our own.

Now with this part coming to an end, the need to cement my life
in Goddess' service weighed heavy upon me.

I became fixated upon body modification, tattooing specifically. 

I set my sights on finding the right symbol to have etched upon my body.  

I knew precisely where it would be placed; between my shoulder blades

never to be seen by me other than in reflection, yet enough to shine out

to others and beg explanation if I were to be asked of its meaning.

I knew I needed to talk to others about Goddess and share her ways.

Now if I could only find the artwork...