Entry tags:

2000, sahmain

Sahmain 2000

Yesterday was Sahmain. It seems that nowadays rather than perform any specific rituals, I seem to reflect and meditate on the meaning of each festival. Yesterday was no different. As a festival focussing on death and the dark side of oneself, it was particularly relevant to me.

Over the last few weeks various things have been coming to an end for me.

My old modem died, to be replaced (eventually) by a better one.

My ankh was broken in two. Ever since I became pagan, I've worn a symbol of that that in one form or another.

At first I had a medicine bag of stones and memorabilia. It became heavier as I continued to wear it until I could wear it no longer. I replaced this with an ankh. I prefer an ankh to a five pointed star because the symbolism is more relevant to me. Besides being a symbol of life and death, it also represents the feminine (loop at the top) and masculine (the bar at the bottom) joined by the scroll of knowledge (the horizontal bar). And the bottom bar just broke off, shortly before I saw a surgeon in Sydney about my reassignment surgery. Maybe this was a symbol of what was to come. I've since bought a new one, made in silver in one solid piece.

And one of our pets almost died.

A week ago or so, Jo bought a duckling, merely 3 weeks old and called it Donald. The next day I bought a companion duckling and called it Howard (we have no idea of either's sex yet). Each is barely 3 weeks old and almost as big as my fist. Jo converted an old wardrobe into a temporary duck pen, until we get the back fence up and then build a proper set of pens. It has a water tray, a food tray and a sort of a pond made from a washing bowl.

Yesterday I went up to feed and water them. I found Donald upside down in the "pond" swimming but with its head barely above the water. As I watched it sunk beneath the surface and stopped moving! The pen doesn't have a proper door yet, so I had to rip the mesh back to get at Donald. I reached down and tossed Donald from the bowl. It still wasn't moving.

I retrieved it from the pen and held it in my hands. It was small, wet, cold and fragile. Donald's neck looked like it was broken. I breathed on it for a while and then I saw the tiniest of movements and Donald's eyes opened. All its feathers were totally wet, and I was worried that it might die of cold, so I took it down to the house while fending off the two dogs and the cat.

Somehow with my free hand I got my hair dryer (with diffuser), plugged it in and warmed up the poor thing. I took it to the window where the heat of the sun would warm it.

And I said a plea to grandmother (Hecate), for Donald's life. I could just see and hear Jo's reaction on coming home and discovering that Donald was dead, and I didn't want that. It didn't want Donald to die on this day of days. And slowly and surely Donald got better, his feathers dried, and he started moving about in a bewildered fashion.

Finally Jo came home, and I was able to put Donald back in the cat box we kept it in at first. The crisis was over. Soon after we went for a walk with the dogs. Maxine was just happy to go, but Pegasus was full of energy and several times I raced him down the pathways until we were both exhausted. I felt alive and aware, and in some way I knew the value of life, not just for me, but for any living creature.

And I felt good.

Later this year, close to the Spring Equinox, I'll have my "day of blood", my reassignment surgery. And on that day a part of my life will have finally ended, and another begun. A small change in many ways, but a large one in others. And I hope, and I prey, that thereafter that sense of how precious life is, stays with me.