Hearts, Flowers and Crystal or the Use of Poison in Romance

A very dear friend of mine gave me a Waterford crystal Apple early in our friendship.  Whether rock crystal or lead crystal, the prismatic properties made from these substances always delight and dazzle.
I have a Waterford votive holder with a heart motif.  I lit it today in honour of St. Valentine's Day and then thought about the use of lead, a very poisonous substance, in art.

Ancient Romans died by the thousands, thinking that they had been poisoned by their enemies when in fact it was the lead in their pipes and serving dishes that caused their deaths.  The poisonous substance makes glass far more dazzling than it otherwise would be.  Lead paint has many virtues that its less poisonous cousins lack.

One of my favourite short stories as a child was entitled Rappaccini's Daughter.  It was about a beautiful girl who had been raised in a garden of poisonous plants.  So imbued by the poisons was she that a single kiss would kill any suitor.  I am not certain why that tale appealed to me so strongly.  I certainly was fascinated with poison as a child.  I begged for a Renaissance-styled 'Poison Ring' from the local Shakespeare festival and filled it with mistletoe berries.  I wanted to have a poison garden like the one in Hawthorne's tale.

When I moved to Pennsylvania, I did have a poison garden with every poisonous plant and flower I could obtain.  Many of the most beautiful flowers and most interesting plants are poisonous actually.  Aconite and Hellebore both are gorgeous.  It is difficult sometimes to find the poisonous plants as many florists refuse to deal in them.  Poison and hallucinogenic often go hand in hand.  Lobelia and Angel's Trumpet are beautiful flowers and both cause hallucinations.

In any event, both lead crystal and poisonous flowers lead one to muse upon the correlation between beauty and danger or fatal power.   What price beauty and art?  Obviously, through the ages, mankind has been willing to risk health for the sake of art and beauty.

I personally believe that we have the right to surround ourselves with toxins if we so choose as long as they do not affect other people.  I dislike the tendency of people and governments to interfere in freedom, to make laws prohibiting certain plants or paints or crystal made with high concentrations of lead, especially in this day and age when almost EVERY ONE has access to the 'information highway'.  It is not like Ancient Rome, where the majority of the population was being poisoned without their knowledge.  If we wish to drink from leaded crystal in order to savour the beauty of the relfection of light and colour upon the faceted glass, why should we not be able to do so freely?  In any event, the concentrations of lead allowed in our own era probably are quite safe.  Knowing this, who on earth would not choose a Waterford goblet over plain glass?

Is it Materialism or is it Repositories of Memories?

I have not had the ability to travel as I would like in recent years.  As I cannot sit for long periods of time, it is virtually impossible to take flights.  The ridiculous security measures undertaken after the events of 11 September make the business of air travel miserable in any case.  The only times I have gone anywhere, therefore, I have travelled by sea.

My memories are a little different, I suspect, from most of the tourists who took the same cruises as I.  Today, in my ongoing, lengthy war against the 'worms with wings', I decided to open the bag that contained my abayah from Tunisia.

I remember every port on that cruise vividly, even though we spent less than a day at each destination.  For me, Tunisia was Carthage, the Roman Empire and the P.L.O.  For many of the tourists, it was simply a random destination where they chose an excursion simply to be able to take photographs to show their friends.  Unfortunately, when one is scheduled to be in any port for less than 8 hours, one is very limited.  Commercial cruise excursions sometimes are the only way to see anything.

We took an excusion to the hill that was the centre of old Carthage and now has a cathedral that was trasnformed into a museum.  For me, the most memorable item there was a gorgeous, majestic Evergreen that may have sprouted from a seed descended from the ancient Trees worshipped by the followers of Attis.  In other words, the ancient ancestor of the Yuletide or Christmas Tree as well as the Cross upon which Christ was crucified.

The coach took us to the hill and then was scheduled to take us briefly into Tunis and finally to a little blue and white town called Sidi Bou Said, painted by presidential edict in the colours of blue and white and designated as a tourist spot.  I wanted to see the location of the old headquarters of the P.L.O. in Tunis but our coach driver, although admittedly fascinated by my interest, declared that it would not be possible to make the detour.  In Sidi Bou Said, while most of the tourists went off to have a carefully orchestrated guided tour of a coffee house and some souk stalls, I was determined for find an authentic abayah.

It was not easy, I have to admit.  When I asked about clothing, I was shown stuff made from synthetics, much of which actually was not even made in Tunisia.  Many of the women's clothes were made in India.  I finally found a shop where, after waiting for awhile in the front room filled with tatty souvenirs, I was shown into a dim back chamber more like a warehouse than anything else.  It was dusty and there were all sorts of shrouded rugs and items of clothing on shelves.  The owner pulled down a wrapped garment and then unfolded it, revealing a dark brown felt cloak or abaya.  He told me that it was the same kind that the president of Tunisia wore (for the sake of expressing solidarity with his people, no doubt) and furthermore, that he had only one.  The price was very high, but not as high as the hand-woven goat's wool jackets that he had and which I wished I could have bought as well.  We bargained in the time-honoured fashion over the price of tha abayah and at last, I took it away with me.  I almost missed the coach back to the ship which made my traveling companion irate... but then, he always was irate with me whenever he went on an excursion.  He did not wish to draw attention to himself or be anything other than a part of the general herd.  he hated the fact that there always was someting specific I wished to see or do and would not be a part of it in most cases.  Never mind... I found my treasure and have it still.

It is the softest, warmest garment imaginable BUT extremely impractical.  There are no openings for the arms.  The shop owner showed me how it was worn but basically it was more of a blanket than a garment in which a person could perform any sophisticated movements.  It has a faint odour of manure, shared by all of the camel hair and goat hair fabrics I have.

Back onboard ship, many of the women paraded about in very bright rayon machine-embroidered tops and skirts.  No nne had anything like my abaya or, if they did, they were not displaying theirs.  Nor was I.  I wrapped myself in it and went out on the balcony to watch the stars shimmering over the water.  

The recent move from one house to another, with most of my belongings still at the old place, has made me very aware of the sentimental nature of my life.  I never collected ANYTHING for its monetary value or its projected value in the future as a 'collectible'.  Everything I value either has some sentimental, aesthetic, emotional or magical attribute.  There is very little that I valued once upon a time that I do not value now, even if my enthusiasm may not be at the same level as it was at the time I first obtained the item.

The Original Thor's Hammer

We have grown so far away from our cultural roots that we often fail to see what would have been obvious to our ancestors. 

Two decades ago, before Freya was born, I planted a Birch Tree in the little garden in the centre of the city where I lived.  It was the Goddess Tree, the Tree on which the shamans of Siberia still build platforms in order to visit the other realms.  It is one of the original 'ladders to heaven'.  It never was strong enough to sustain a platform, nor steps of any kind, but it grew quite tall so that its branches reached to the second floor where there was a deck.  I decorated it with wind chimes and other offerings.  Last year, the Goddess Tree died.  It was a bad omen in a way, and it made it easier to move.

Throughout those years, the Birch showered the earth with her little seeds.  I always thought they were enchanting, and it is possible that I made the correlation with Thor's Hammer long ago and then forgot.

It was only today, when I found one on the counter of the bathroom in the new house, miles from the site of the dead Goddess Tree, that I immediately saw the shape of Thor's Hammer.  Look at the tiny seed in the centre of the photograph above.  Any one familiar with Viking talismans will see that it is precisely the shape of Thor's Hammer.  THIS is the original reason why ancients fashioned the charm from wood and metal and carried it with them.  No need to wonder why a Hammer ould have been shaped so oddly, more like a two-edged Battle Axe than any real Hammer.  It is the seed of the Birch, the Tree of Life, the Tree of Heaven for the ancient people of Northern Europe.  Even now, the White Birch is known as the 'Maiden' in some of the Northern lands.  A forest filled with those slender magical trees is utterly magical.

The Aftermath of Christmas

Trimming the Tree alone never was our own family tradition but it has become mine sadly as Freya does not participate in the ritual.  She will bake while I trim the Tree, however, which has its own benefits and I do insist that she and I together place the 'Twelve Days of Christmas' ornaments from the Metropolitan Museum stocking that Ernst sent us long ago.  Now that she is at University, she could not participate in the aftermath of taking down the Tree even if she wished to do so.  She is no longer here for Twelfth Night and cannot place her shoes out for the Three Kings.  Thus, there are some traditions that are in abeyance at present.

Taking Christmas down, whether it is the Tree, the Nativity Creches or other household decorations, is a rather sad affair.  It does have something in common with the trimming of the Tree, though.  As one holds each decoration, one recalls where and when one first obtained it, whether as a gift or a purchase.  One remembers other Christmas seasons when the same ornament was or was not displayed.  This year, I brought out many of the most expensive and valuable decorations I had and which had not been displayed for at least a decade if not longer.   With only two days to Christmas when we finally brought home the 'primary' Tree, however, I never did trim it completely with everything I would have liked to have seen on it.  Now that I am putting it all in boxes for storage until next Yuletide, I am grateful that I did not hang more ornaments this year.

Many people no longer display live trees.  They complain about the dirt, about the needles, about the slow dying of the Tree in the house.  Instead, they bring out an artificial Tree.  Sometimes the artificial Tree has all the ornaments on it ab initio, thus eliminating the entire ritual of 'tree trimming'.

To me, all of that is contrary to the symbolism of the Christmas Tree, the Evergreen that originally was the soul of Attis.  I do like having a live Tree with roots that will continue to live after the Season ends, but I feel one must have a cut tree as well as the symbol of the sacrificed God.  In the best situation, one would go out to the forest to choose a Tree and then cut it oneself with an axe.  In this family, it is as much as I can do to persuade some one to take me to a lot where cut trees are being sold.

We did have a live Tree last year.  It was a small, generic pine tree but, as is usually the case where the Tree is potted, twice the price of its cut brethren.  Through the year, I tried to keep it alive on the deck... I worried about it while we were on the Queen Mary II but the lady who took care of the Puttikins watered the plants as well.  (Some one stole both of my beautiful Jack in the Pulpits from the garden while I was gone.  I had nurtured them for more than a decade and still grieve for that loss.)

In any event, we moved from that house at the end of September and my pleas to various individuals to bring the Tree to the new house fell on deaf ears.  Finally, AFTER Christmas but before the New Year, Freya and her boyfriend brought the Tree here.  The branches on one side are dead but I hope it can recover.  I set it on the porch and placed a string of white lights on it.  It is quite beautiful and the dead branches do not show.  More than that, however, it is a symbol of an unbroken thread.  It brings the past and the future together somehow.  I do not feel this new house is MY home but the presence of the little Tree does help.

Above is the little live tree from the old house, alight in its new location.  Unfortunately, when I attempted to water it a few days ago, the temperature was so low that the water turned to ice instantly and the Tree now is frozen to the floor temporarily!  It is quite lovely, though, despite its fragile health.  I do believe that plants, like animals and human beings have souls.  To allow this Tree to languish and ultimately die would have been a crime.  If it can recover and thrive, I believe I can thrive a little in this new environment.  At least, I live in hope.

The presence of the Puttikins here is the one true indication that it is my current abode, even though most of my books and some of my treasures still remain at the old house.  The Putti still are terrified of the other rooms in this house, although Cupid is more daring than the others.  I tried to persuade him to keep me company while I took down the Christmas decorations in the sunken room.  He quickly found the fallen fern fronds and devoured them, ensuring that he would be ill a few hours later.  His only other contribution was to hide under the Tree, squeezing his rather large form under the lowest branches, covering himself with pine needles that had to be combed out before I could return him to the Silly Room.

Sharing Traditions and Rituals

The Orphic followers declared: 'I am a child of Earth and Starry Heaven'.  If I were to describe my own self in a single phrase, it probably would have to be: 'I am a child of Ritual and Tradition'.  Rituals and traditions are part of ordinary life to a small extent, but during holidays and festivals, they often take centre stage.  Especially at Christmas and Easter, the little traditions and rituals of my own family as well as those that have accrued through the years of being a mother, all assume great significance and value.  I could analyse myself to death but even without doing so, it is clear that an insecure childhood that included one of those 'broken homes' and more than one geographical move, played a part in this.  Rituals and Traditions were my sole security and the touchstone that reminded me that I had a family, even when they were thousands of miles away.

Now that my daughter is at University and no longer living with me,  I can see the fault lines in our family traditions.  I see the advantages, never experienced personally, of marrying within one's own culture and religion.  I wanted to go to Mass this morning but no one would accompany me or even take me to Church.  I was reminded of poor Mum in 'Mother and Son' when she sits disconsolately by the door in coat and hat on Christmas Eve, alternately begging, cajoling and threatening her son in the attempt to get to Church on the 'one day that matters'.  He, of course, had planned a Christmas party with his friends...

Having written that, I have to admit that my daughter and I did go to Mass on Christmas Eve together, but she feels that is the sum total of her duty to the 'Birthday Boy' during the Christmas season.  There were times in my life when I went to Mass every morning.  When I was on a cruise this past Spring on the Queen Mary 2, I did attend Mass every morning for a month on the ship.  Things like that do become more precious when opportunities are limited.  I no longer can drive, so could not go to Mass on a daily basis here unless I had friends or family who did so as well.  I do have neighbours next door who are R.C. and attend Mass fairly religiously (ha ha!) but they sent me a text at the last moment last night to say they were going to the Saturday evening Mass instead of their usual early morning Sunday Mass.  Not being terribly attached to my cellphone and being involved in the preparation of dinner as well at that time, I did not even see the text message until the time was long past.

This all made me wonder what it would have been like had I married a Roman Catholic.   There was a big part of me that did not want to create a family where dogma dictated belief and faith.  Even though my daughter attended parochial school, she attended madrasah at the local mosque as well.  Her father was a Lutheran who never set foot in a church except when he was courting me and acting as though Mass were an exciting venue for a romantic date.  As a consummate salesman, he was able to convince me easily of almost anything he wished.  It was only after I told him I was having his child that he underwent a profound sea change in personality and behaviour.

Be that as it may, by sending my daughter both to a Roman Catholic parochial school and Islamic madrasah, I set myself up for the situation that now exists.  She wrote a long paper for a class at university about her childhood and upbringing, in the course of which she thanked me, her mother, for giving her the freedom and ability to choose her own faith.  So be it.  I cannot deny that I am glad she is an individual who is willing to question every authority.  I could not bear it if she blindly followed any creed or political philosophy.  At the same time, I wish she would go to Mass with me more often.

Most Roman Catholics actually would not accept my own religious creed.  I tend to think of myself as a Pagan Catholic because I am closer to the Celtic Catholics in my beliefs than I am to any traditional, strict organised representation of the Church.  I cannot believe that any true infinite deity could care less how, where or when we pray.  I believe that the rules and regulations are there only to help US and have absolutely no bearing on God or our standing with the Deity/Deities.  Why would any Deity of any significance BOTHER with petty rules and regulations?

I love the traditional Mass.  I think that two thousand years have created an interactive poem that is extremely potent both in magic and the ability to touch the soul.  I love the traditional Hymns and Carols.  At the heart of the Mass is Holy Communion and I agree with a Monsignor who declared long ago that every one ought to be able to partake in the sacred mystery, that the sole requirement should be the desire to share in the sacred mystery that transforms ordinary wafers or bread into the Body of Christ.

At the same time, I love Salat and the sacred mysteries of Islam, especially those of the Shia.  I think that I have been very privileged to have had the opportunity to participate in the rites of Muharram, to follow the coffin of the Imam weeping, to be tied to the alam carried by Abbas.  Again, lack of transportation is what ended that participation.  I know that many members of the mosque would not want me to participate if they knew that I celebrated the Roman Catholic Mass as well, but I believe human beings are wrong to dictate where spiritual traditions and rituals are concerned.  Every sacred mystery in any religion has a magic of its own and the ability to ennoble us.

Unfortunately, if I had married a Shia, he probably would have tried to prevent me from setting foot in any Roman Catholic Church and certainly would not have approved of my participationi in the Mass.  If I had married a Roman Catholic, he probably would not have wanted his daughter to attend Islamic Madrasah.  In either case, my daughter probably would have been far more rigid in her beliefs.

Thus, the loneliness I experience in terms of the religious aspects of Christmas.   I brought it upon myself to some extent.  I have to admit as well that, in the same way that 'stolen sweets are sweetest', the fact that I have no means of transport to the Church makes the Mass far more precious to me.  If I still could drive, I wonder if I would attend Mass on a daily basis.  I certainly did not do so when I had a car and ability to drive.

Christmas may be primarily the celebration of the birth of Christ but the traditions of Saint Nicholas or Santa Claus or Father Christmas are extremely important to me.  Again, it is tradition and ritual that make any festival special for me.   Christmas Eve Mass must share prominence with the trimming of the Tree, the Advent Candles, the wreath on the door, the hanging of the stockings on Christmas Eve and note to Santa or Father Christmas, along with an offering of sweets and eggnog (milkshake in our house!).   Christmas Crackers are an integral part of the festival as well.  Without the popping of the Cracker, the silly paper crowns, the shoddy little prize and the joke that must be read aloud, Christmas would be incomplete.

So... to share this year's Christmas Cracker joke:

What do elves learn in school?
Answer:  The elf-abet.

The Sad Perversion of Boxing Day

Boxing Day is an essentially Anglo-Saxon or British tradition, and it is celebrated primarily throughout the Commonwealth.  It falls always on the day after Christmas or 26 December and was named 'Boxing Day' because it was the day when the Churches opened their alm boxes and distributed all the contents to the poor.  It was the day as well traditionally when servants and those entrusted with deliveries (milk, newspapers and so on) were given gifts.  In other words, it was a day of GIVING. 

Now, however, it has become a day when individuals rush out to BUY items for themselves usually at 'deep discounts', whether in order to purchase the gifts they failed to receive from others on Christmas or to buy items for their own homes or enhancement of life.  No longer does the day focus on giving to others.  It is consumerism at its most blatant, fostered by businesses who are desperate to unload the products of the dying year to make way for new inventory.

On this Boxing Day, let us try to remember others.  Visit a Neighbour, friend or family member even if only to exchange Christmas Greetings and heartfelt wishes for the coming year. 

DIY (not DUI) for Christmas

Although I am not really a fan of primitive hand-crafted items, I do love hand-crafted items when they are elegant, pretty or beautifully made.  Europe is the centre for hand-crafted Christmas Ornaments.  There are villages that are famed far and wide for their Christmas Markets where one can shop for Ornaments and Decorations throughout the year. 

My Mum and her best friend used to make an annual shopping pilgrimage of sorts to Germany and Eastern Europe to visit all the Christmas Markets.  She kept most of them for herself but I do have a handful of lovely little Tree decorations from these expeditions.  When I was in Munich, I bought a painted metal ornament and always wish I had been able to buy more.  (I suppose I am more like my mother than I would like in some respects.  I certainly have inherited her love of luxury items.   She criticises me constantly for my 'collections', pretending that hers are 'accidental' while mine are deliberate.  Oh the convoluted reasoning of parents and their children!!!  I hope I am better with my daughter. )

In any case, one of the most charming of hand-crafted Christmas Tree decorations is the walnut.  Half of a walnut makes a perfect little 'box' or setting for a Nativity scene or a cradle for the Christ Child.  In Eastern Europe, Scandinavia and Germany, these were quite popular back in the day.  Hallmark in the States produced some rather awful plastic versions but it is difficult to find the genuine article. 

At this point in my life, I would love to make a set of walnut ornaments but without transportation, I am rather limited in my ability to obtain the necessary materials.  Although I am not terribly adroit where crafting is concerned, it always fires the imagination.  Invariably, the result is disappointing, far removed from my ideal and often grandiose visions.

A few days ago, I explored one of the boxes that contained my Christmas decorations and had not been opened for over a decade.  I opened a itny box and found a rather charming little Flower Fairy reposing within it.  I was delighted by it... and then I suddenly realised that I had made it myself!  Quite a surprising discovery in a way.  Once i remembered that I had made it, I began to notice the little imperfections.  Nevertheless, it is a charming little fairy and I am pleased that I went to the effort so long ago.

My mother told me that she found a little Cavalier ornament that I had made once upon a time.  I cannot imagine what that looks like, although she told me it is fashioned of silk and other elegant materials.  I was obsessed with Cavaliers as a child.  The Three Musketeers was one of my favourite books and my friends and I used to have sabre duels and played out scenes from 'Twenty Years After'.  I went so far as to cut off a bit of my sister's hair while she slept to fashion a proper Cavalier's mustache for myself.  I doubt she has forgiven me to this day for that.  She is like the elephant, holding grudges forever.    I used her hair because it was thicker and more luxurious than mine.  Mine tended to curl as well, where hers was less opinionated in its directions.

This brings me to a subject I probably have beaten well into the ground by now: Christmas in online games.  I think that one of the aspects of Family Farm that I have enjoyed most this Advent Season is the ability to make decorations for the Farm.  It is very creative as well.  One can make decorations from feathers and fabric, but one also can make them from food items.  There are wonderful little Christmas Trees made from Cherry Tomatoes and blocks of cheese.  There is an elegant, sleek Reindeer Candle made from the metal beaten from Horseshoes one obtains from a specific type of Horse.  Candles often are lit by fireflies in this game.  In the Workshop, one can make a Candy Cane Arch with live fireflies slitting about it.

I wish I could make some of these decorations in the 'real world', but I have to confess that it is rather satisfying to make them even in a virtual world.  If one cannot make them for the real Christmas Tree, still it fills the spirit with the excitement of the Advent Season to make them to decorate a virtual Farm.