Year of the Moon

Year of the Moon | Hedgefairy https://hedgefairy.wordpress.comIf last year was the Year of the Star, this is the Year of the Moon. It all started with Méa pointing out the numbers of the Major Arcana matching the year, so she deserves the credit for this (don’t worry, her blog might be in German but there is a translation option in the sidebar!). I’m always equally giddy and anxious in the face of new beginnings, and this year is no different.

It’s strange how the Moon is female in almost all languages and cultures but it German the genus is masculine. Not that this stopped my mother when I was little, and so I grew up looking up to this celestial body seeing a woman, most of the time, and old crone, so old that gender almost didn’t apply anymore, but still some sort of Mother, capital M. One who taught me about pain and power through blood and light. I grew up with a consciousness for Moon phases and with the knowledge that my Moon Blood was nothing to be ashamed of. The Moon Crone has always been with me, always listening to me, and always given me new hope as she goes through her cycles, renewing herself every time.Year of the Moon | Hedgefairy https://hedgefairy.wordpress.comThe Moon is a symbol of Magic, of witchcraft, of the feminine and the dark. It’s a sign for me to meditate, to gather all my different sides and aspects and bring them together for insight. The Moon is about intuition, about dreams and the fantastic. But nightmares, too, are dreams and the moon brings transformation and – even named for her – lunacy. It’s in her silvery light that we see shadows become something more menacing, that we become feral and mystical and bright-eyed. She moves the tides like our emotions move, they rise and fall, sometimes more vividly under her light.

The moon means passion, but not necessarily sexual passion, rather she means passion for yourself. It’s your dreams you will follow, your needs that should be fulfilled, this is about self-care, about healthy egocentricity.
Yet, fair warning, with all that was written about transformation, unseelie desires (because we all have them, and that’s good) and lunacy it’s sometimes hard not to lose oneself in the trance, the light, the blood. What can seem like a path to your true self in one moment might become obsession with an ideal that would look quite off by daylight.

Year of the Moon | Hedgefairy https://hedgefairy.wordpress.comThis is my goal for the Year of the Moon: To find myself through all this strangeness and always stay who I am even if I transform every now and then into something that might not look the same, and sometimes vanish. To meditate, to come to my senses by sometimes giving in to madness. To be passionate, especially about myself. Because I deserve it, and I care for myself. I am a child of the Moon Crone, and she watches me. I want to make her proud.

🌙

_ _ _

P.S.: Quick note on the pictures
1) is the front page of my current bullet journal thing (that I’m not sure about whether it qualifies as a bujo or not) and I really like it.
2)  is the last picture I took on New Year’s Eve and I was pleasantly surprised how good it came out even though I didn’t use a tripod. I took that as a great sign for this year.
3) actually shows not a Tarot but a Lenormand card but I liked the illustration so much. The number assigned to the Moon in this set of cards is 32, not 18, though.

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NaNoWriMo 2017 | Why am I still writing?

It’s November again and with it NaNoWriMo, right after Inktober (don’t worry, I’ll update on that, too, well, at some point…), another “creative obligation”, another month full of “I have to do this”. Sounds stressful, right? And it kind of was during the last seven years. I just checked. This is my eighth year of NaNoWriMo. I’ve written more than just one post about this, too.

During the last few years I drowned myself in research and worldbuilding and character creation, wrote furiously during class and at home and made it to 50k. Exactly once. In seven years.

Isn’t this discouraging?, are you going to ask, to write just without any proper motivation but this goal and then not even meet it? To pour so much creativity and energy into this for a whole month that you can’t really do much else?

What’s more, by now I have a regular job and three days of the week I just keel over and fall asleep as soon as I come home. I have historical dancing at least every two weeks, Pathfinder every Wednesday and some kind of social life and other projects, too, surprisingly (no, really). I can’t even go to the meet-ups on weekends because that’s when I work and afterwards I just want to get home and shower and sleep. Writing 1667 words a day seems impossible for me right now. But still I signed up, still I “announced my novel” which means that I filled out some blanks and decided on what I wanted to write this year. Still I checked my “Writing Buddies” just to find that most of them are inactive nowadays. Even writing this makes me look at myself and question if I’m not delusional, why do I do this? My boyfriend sighed when I said “It’s NaNo again” during breakfast on one of the first days of the month because he knows how I invested I was during the last years and how crushed when I didn’t meet my word goals for a day and how disillusioned when I eventually gave up and didn’t write anymore at all for the rest of the month.

This all sounds terribly bleak. It sounds faded and desaturated and bad and exhausting. But let me add a bit more colour. Let me add the sunshine. And the reasons why after all this bleakness I still write.

I love a good challenge.

I love Inktober, MerMay, NaNoWriMo, 30 Question blog post challenges, you name it. I rarely follow through, having about the attention span of a raven or crow (quite intense at times, but still easily distracted), but I love them and jump at them at every opportunity I see. They give me a weird sense of purpose that I sometimes lack (but sometimes not, sometimes I manage to create my own). They give me direction for my scatterbrain. They give me the chance to put out my creativity for others to kind-of-see, within a somewhat socially accepted setting. And I admit that I stressed myself out on this during the last years, which wasn’t exactly the healthiest thing I could do.

But this year I write for myself. Only myself. I’m writing some kind of non-fiction this year for the first time (but maybe it’s fictional non-fiction, who knows) which I’m having a ball with. I write because I want to and I’m proud of every bit of progress I make, proving (mainly to myself) that I can still write and be creative and join these challenges without the drive to win, despite work, despite social things, despite mental troubles. Because I refuse to say, “I don’t have time for this anymore”. I refuse to give in to the concept of the working adult person dragging themself to work and social events and then crashing on the sofa just watching something semi-clever while drifting off to sleep. Not that I don’t do that once in a while, and I love drifting off to sleep while something runs in the background, but this is not what this is about. This is about me denying banality to crush me. This is about me still writing, maybe only five words a day, maybe 2k on another because inspiration hit me and granted me the energy to write on even though I’ve been awake for 16 hours already because of early working hours. Because it’s every single word that counts. Because I need to give Inspiration (capital I) the chance to find me, to find something to come to. I want to create and I need to create or I’d feel horrible. Believe me, I tried. And it sucked.

Sure, call me stubborn. Call me delusional. Call me stupid. Call me to ask, “why are you still doing this even though you know you can’t possibly make it to 50k until the end of the month”. I barely care.

I write because I want my words to come out. Because I can coax them onto the white sheet of my OpenOffice document and get them to stay and evolve into ideas that I might someday be able to share, that might in turn inspire others. I write because I’m a dreamer, because I am a believer in the power of Inspiration and Creativity and the fact that even if you’ve got an eight-hour workday behind you you can still do it. It doesn’t really look like it yet, but eh, somebody’s gotta try it. Everything was impossible until someone came along who didn’t know and just did it. My stubbornness is good. My stubbornness is something that keeps me from plunging into darkness and banality and depression far more than I already do (well, mostly darkness and depression).

Writing is a ray of sunshine, a twinkle of a star, as is every creative endeavour. It is there to inspire you further, to create for yourself, not just for the achievement or others, even though that’s perfectly valid, too.

This is about 1k worth of words now. See, writing just works, somehow. Be it here or on that doc that I’m going back to now because today I have a free day aside from social things I’m looking forward to.

I love you. All of you.

(P.S.: TL; DR: Because I wanna)

Mori Challenge Revisited: Question 7

Are you also into Lolita? I find a lot of Mori Girls do Lolita as well! Whether you are or aren’t a Lolita, why do you think this is?

To be honest I started this blog because of Lolita. Without Lolita I probably wouldn’t have tapped into my girlier side and wouldn’t have found Mori Kei in the first place.

Mori Challenge: Mori and LolitaI think in a strange way Lolita and Mori Kei come from the same idea, from the same feeling. Of course there is also the fashions’ respective history to begin with, both are Japanese street fashion styles, both are inspired by frilly, girly, gentle vintage things. Compare old-school country Lolita and old-school Mori Kei, there are more than just a few similarities.

Both are fashions that intrigue people who don’t exactly want to curry favour with the male gaze or the ever-present sexualisation or rather erotisation of modern fashion and looks. Both are relatively modest when it comes to cleavage and hemlines, both are not into screaming colours or silhouettes that follow the lines of the body too closely. I’d even go as far as to call both of them somewhat escapist fashions.

Wait, you’ll say now, escapist? Aren’t you taking thing a bit far?
Alright, maybe escapist isn’t the right word. But both fashions make at least me feel… like I’m in a cocoon of lace and frills and ruffles and softness. For me (who is still hung up on old-school Lolita, to be honest) both have a gentleness to them, something not as rigid as many modern “mainstream” styles. Something to show the world that the wearer isn’t necessarily of it, more like a drifting fairy tale person, someone who is merely visiting, gracing the mortal world with their sometimes strange and outweirding presence. Both are styles to curl up and read classics in, or watch silly movies about princesses and girls in pretty dresses or in secret gardens. They have so much in common, in inspiration as well als looks.

Both are, in a strange way, for me somewhat dystopian. Both are a denial of the harshness of our world, one tries to flee this banality by donning the clothes of children of times long gone and royalty that never was while the other runs into the woods, torn lace trailing behind them. Both don’t feel quite right in the middle of all the grey and pollution and bees dying and noise and one-calamity-chasing-the-other news broadcasts.

Both offer us a refuge from the harshness of reality because the layers and layers of ruffles soften the blows of all that “real life” throws at us.

And that’s perfectly alright.

This post is part of the 30 Question Mori Kei Challenge. For other posts from this challenge, please look here for all the questions!