Blargle......

Lately I have come to realise that living in this little flat is not so good for me. And it's not just that there is an inch of water under my ground floor apartment making it cold and a perfect microcosm for all types of wonderful and exotic mould.

Mainly, it's because I feel like I have become socially lazy, having hidden myself away from share-housing for too long. Like if I live by myself any longer I’m gonna become the crazy cat lady from the Simpsons who throws cats at people. I don’t want to be the crazy cat lady from the Simpsons who throws cats at people. I like cats, and as far as I can tell they like me too.

I mean, yeah I go out all the time and generally have a blast with friends and strangers. But I kind of miss coming home from work sometimes and actually having a conversation with another human being. That would be nice.

I have lived pretty much by myself now for almost 5 years (except for that brief and wonderful time that the lovely and funny Miss Doyle lived with me.....miss you pumpkin ) And I think thats about enough.

Before moving into this flat, I had lived with a total of 23 people in the space of 7 years. Most of those people started out as total strangers to me. It was fun getting to know all of them. It was frustrating having to live with the little things some of them did that pissed me off. It was agonising watching some of them go through the general trials and tribulations of life. But above all, it was interesting. Damn interesting. Much better than sitting around alone in a cold little flat, waiting for the weekend to roll around before you could have a chin-wag with your mates.

I liked coming home from work one night back in 1999 and finding that the lanky backpacker from Manchester had purchased a case of beer so that he could sit me down and teach me the rules of Rugby Union. I had no care to learn the rules, and had no idea why the game we were watching was so important. But the beer went down a treat. That night I also discovered that some of what I thought was unintelligible gibberish coming out of said backpackers mouth, were actually words said in a very thick Manchurian accent. The look on his face when I told him that, for the previous month or so I generally had no idea what he was saying, was absolutely priceless.

I loved that at my 21st birthday party there were people there representing almost every continent on earth. I had lived with most of them at some stage. And some of them I ended up living with later. But, bless their cotton socks, all of them bought me alcohol and got very drunk with me.

Sitting in the living room of one sharehouse and watching a carpet python eat a live baby chicken whilst on the phone to my mum, then trying to explain what that "peep-peep-peep-THUD" sound was that she could hear. Then going on to explain to her why there was a stoned tattooist in the background giggling like a schoolgirl. That was fun.

Theres just nothing like that when you live by yourself. There's no witty banter....No little household jokes. No coming home to find strange messages written on chalkboards about Barbie's questionable morals.

It's just me.

And when it's just me I get bored. So bored that I'm too bored to do anything half the time. So I sit and watch movies or whatever rubbish is on telly, or spend too much time on the interweb and playing compy games. And my house gets messy, cause theres only bored me to motivate me to clean it up, and by that stage I'm too bored to bother with self-motivation.

I need to get me out of this flat and into a share house.

Before I go stir crazy and start collecting lots of aero-dynamic cats.

So yeah, as the title says, I'm pretty sure there is a conspiracy amongst truckies up and down the South Coast of New South Wales about who gets the rights to wiping me out first.

Now I know that probably every driver has these issues...especially if they are doing a run like mine where your on a freeway or a major transport artery every day. But I am positive that these fuckers must be radioing one another to see who can rock up the most  "try-and-flatten-lee-lee" points.

This shit happens to me every single day.....I'll be stuck behind some small dicked motherfucker in massive piece of metal with wheels, and I make my move. I pull out...indicators on of course....I'll be riding up beside said small-dick for a sufficent amount of time for his mouth-breathing mullet-harbouring hairy-knuckled fuckself to have a good hard look at me in his rear view. And hey if he took a quick glance out his window, I'm not that hard to miss for fuck sake. I drive a white car....the road is black. What the fuck is there not to see???? But still they decide that the best time for them to change lanes  -FOR NO APPARENT REASON- is when I am right in between them and a concrete road divider!

I mean fuck! How hard is it to check whats beside you? I'm on my red p's .....I legally cant do more than 90kms/hr! So if your going slower than that in a 100 zone (which most of these cock-farmers are) there is a good fucken chance that someone will be wanting to pass you!

Please, please, please with sugar on top...stop trying to kill me. Or I'll hex your shit back to the fucken stone age.

This little rant is bought to you by the experience I had just this evening almost wiping out because of one of these arse-candles coming down Mount Ously in the rain.

To every truck driver on the road between Wollongong and Campbelltown NSW................

Your a fucking tool....no chick will ever want you.... and your mother dresses you funny. Fucking arse-hat, shit-eating,   motherfucking pathetic small cocked FUCKS!.

In her youth, the Goddess Ishtar fell in love with Tammuz – the God of vegetation and agriculture. At the height of their romance, the smitten Tammuz made the flowers bloom and the harvests thrive.

So overwhelming was the rapture that this love caused, Tammuz soon exhausted his powers, and at the end of summer he collapsed and died, his soul traveling to the underworld. Here he was presided over by Ereshkigal; Ishtar’s sister, and the Queen of the Underworld.

In the world above. Ishtar was overcome with grief, bursting into lamentations for her lost lover. Her sorrow made the land grow cold, and all around, the trees lost their leaves She vowed to find Tammuz and to snatch him away from his sad abode and, with her faithful servant Ninshubur, she conceived a plan to descend to the underworld to rescue him.

Placing her crown upon her head and adorning herself with her finest robes and jewels, the great Goddess of love and fertility descended to the outer gates of the underworld. She turned to Ninshubur, who had travelled with her thus far, and said: “Sweet Ninshubur, I alone must go forward. I ask nothing more from you on this quest, but to wait three days. If by that time I have not returned, call upon my father Enki for help.” And she kissed Ninshubur and went alone towards the first gate.

Here, she was met by the gatekeeper, who barred her way and would not allow her passage until he had consulted with his mistress, Queen Ereshkigal. “My lady” the gatekeeper said as he knelt before his ruler. “A great and powerful Goddess, arrayed in splendour and with signs of authority awaits entry into your realm.”

Ereshkigal knew that it was her sister come to rescue her lover Tammuz, and became upset. Ishtar’s boldness and assumption she could change Tammuz’s fate challenged Ereshkigal’s authority over the souls of the dead. What right did Ishtar have to encroach on Her realm and defy Her laws?

“Gatekeeper.” Ordered Ereshkigal. “Allow my sister admittance, but only open each of the seven gates a mere crack and as she passes through each portal, remove an item of her finery as payment for passage”

The gatekeeper bowed low and went back to Ishtar to carry out his orders.

The first gate was opened just enough so that Ishtar could squeeze her body through, the stones on either side of the opening cut and bruised her body. As she passed through the Gatekeeper removed her glorious crown from atop her head.

At the second gate the process was repeated, this time the gatekeeper removed the pendants from her ears. At the third gate she was relieved of the necklace from her throat; at the fourth her shimmering jewelled breastplate; the fifth gate saw her lose her girdle adorned with birthstones; at the sixth she relinquished the bracelets on her wrists and ankles; and at the seventh and final gate, Ishtar was stripped of the robes that covered her nakedness.

Thus, divested of all her possessions, of the very things that tied her to the world above, she arrived in the presence of Ereshkigal.

Enraged at her sisters intrusion, Ereshkigal ordered the judges of the underworld to surround Ishtar. “You have entered my realm uninvited Sister.” Boomed Ereshkigal “Surely you know that all who enter this land must be judged?”

Ishtar bowed her head “This I understand dear Sister.” She said. “I come here for love and wish only to rescue Tammuz, the one who has my heart”

Ereshkigal let out a derisive laugh and looked to her judges. They gave their ruling – Ishtar must die, and her body kept in the underworld.

Then Ereshkigal fastened on Ishtar the eye of death and spoke against her the word of wrath. She struck her sister, killing her instantly and capturing her in the land of the dead.

Back at the outer gates of the underworld, Ninshubur’s fears grew with each passing hour. Finally, at the end of the third day, she raced backed to the world above and entreated an audience with Ishtar’s father Enki.

Enki saw the worry on the face of his daughters servant and grew immediately concerned. “What is it my child, what have you come to tell me?”

“Lord, your daughter Ishtar, She is trapped in the underworld!” Cried Ninshubur.

Enki flew into a fit of grief and, scraping the dirt from under his fingernails, he created two beings, neither male nor female. “Go!” He ordered them “Take the food and water of life and bring me back my daughter!”

The creatures flew to the underworld and met with Ereshkigal. At first, she was wary of their praises and gifts, but she soon let down her guard and began to enjoy their presence. “You have bought me much happiness” She told them “And for this gift, I shall grant you whatever you ask”

“We request the body of your sister Ishtar” The creatures said in unison.

“Then you shall have it!” Said Ereshkigal, and she ordered her judges to relinquish Ishtar’s body to them.

The creatures flew with Ishtar back to the land of the living, and laying her down on the earth, they fed her the food and water of life, and she was revived. As she awoke, Ishtar’s life force restored the fertility of the barren earth, and the land awoke from the slumber that Tammuz’s death had caused.

The air is developing a chill, taking on its icy aspect as the blanket of winter begins to creep over the land. Soon the days will be short and harsh and the nights long and cold. The wheel is nearing the end of it’s myth cycle and about to begin anew.

Samhain, the ending and the beginning of the pagan year, is coming.

Using a linear concept of time, such as our modern one, most see the new year’s festivities of January 1st as merely a point on a long path that stretches in a straight line from birth to death. A singular point in a singular life.

Within the pagan view, however, time is cyclical. There is no beginning, and no end. Birth and death are turning points on an ever spinning wheel, constantly recurring. The mysteries that await us in the period between death and rebirth, are also a part of this circling framework.

The sabbat of Samhain sits on the cusp of death and rebirth in the natural world. It embodies the mysteries of the afterlife, and is the one night of the year when the veils between this reality and the otherworlds are at their thinnest. It is a night set outside of time, when the natural order of the universe dissolves back into primordial chaos. From this point, one can experience any moment be it past, present or future, making Samhain night perfect for communing with the dead and for divination.

Many cultures have celebrations honouring the dead, and far from being morbid and gloomy undertakings, these festivities are often filled with joy, laughter fun and games. We see it in the dressing up and “Trick-or-treating” of the Americanised Halloween. In Mexico, The Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos) is filled with feasting and flowers as the people honour their ancestors and celebrate the continuity of life. It is a time of joy and remembrance and in western culture this concept is often lacking.

At Samhain, in the agricultural societies of old, the crops were in, the animals brought in from the fields, and the people battened down the hatches for coming winter. The seeds that were planted at the previous Samhain, that throughout the year sprouted, grew and were harvested at Lughnasad, were ready to be planted anew as a winter crop for the next year - to start the cycle over again.

The people gave thanks to those that went before them, setting extra places at feasts for any who had died that year and lighting torches so that the spirits of departed loved ones could, if they wished, find their way home to celebrate with their families.

Modern pagans utilise this time to meditate of life, death and rebirth. We know that the term “death” does not necessarily have to mean a physical end to a person, animal or plant, but can also refer the death of a situation, a way of life or a mindset. It is a time to look at the things in our lives that we want to put an end to, to clear the slate in order to make a fresh new start. Our rituals reflect this, often including some kind of symbolic ending followed by a rebirth.

We remember our lost loved ones, knowing that they are not gone, but have simply moved on. If we are sad about their passing, we can use this time to put ourselves into state of heightened sensitivity and receptivity, and communicate with them. By assuring ourselves that they are safe, we can let go of the grief cause by their passing, and know that their teachings live on in our hearts and minds.

And so, during the season of Samhain, we are reminded the wonders of this world and the worlds that lie beside it. We look back and celebrate our ancestors, and peer forward to see where our paths may someday lead us. The acknowledgement of our own mortality gives us the ability to perceive this incarnation of our lives for what it is:

Divine and Blessed.