Tags

, ,

Tangerine Sunset

in the toilet bowl. The blood

time begins again.

-Erin Nightwalker

I’ve always envied ladies with regular or semi-regular period schedules. Even before chemo started mine was never really that regular, or predictable. I’ve gone 4 months with nary a dribble, spotted for a few days, then next month bled like a stuck pig. All of our cars (with the exception of my father’s truck, because he’s the only one who really drives it) have pads or tampons in them somewhere for that inevitable day when it starts with no warning. I’ve had periods with heavy cramping, periods without, and periods in between. I once went to Planned Parenthood because I was *certain* I was pregnant and needed some advice, and started it in the Burger King bathroom about 10 minutes before the appointment (hey, I was freaking the fuck out. If a Dr. Pepper and some french fries kept me from crawling up the walls, then bring those sonsabitches on.) While on chemo….. hang on to your shorts, ’cause you’ll never know when the hell it will happen.

So, really, its not that surprising that “holy moon blood” and I never really saw eye to eye. I’ve never really thought much about it. I’ve read great big rants and essays about how great it is, how it ties you to Womanity and teh Goddezz, and they were all well and good. They just don’t really apply to me. Closest I’ve ever come to a view on it that I liked is Ms. Graveyard Dirt’s position on it (Just start at the beginning and work your way through- trust me, totally worth it), even though that doesn’t really apply either (interesting as it- and she, come to think of it- is).

That’s not to say that I have neglected it totally in the realms of the woo woo shit. Baron’s got an appendage in this bloody muffin mix, mostly because of a bargain struck, but that has less to do with the period itself and more to do with what it means biologically. And, though I have yet to use it in such a fashion, I’m totally down with the several uses I’ve heard about in magical thought (just haven’t really had reason to use it in such a fashion). Fertility and fecundity in general just don’t scream “INVOLVE US IN YOUR PRACTICE YOU BEARER OF WOMB-EY GOODNESS YOU” to me. So the most visual indicator of both fertility and womb-ey goodness doesn’t exactly pop up regularly on my radar.

Why the sudden posting about the Red Death? Because this most recent menstrual cycle has brought up some interesting tidbits (one of which is the haiku that prefaces this entry. Which is a TMI true story, actually.) I’ve had stranger thoughts than normal, including omens and oracles via bloodstains on sanitary products and the swirl of blood (and other assorted menstrual effluvia- yummy) in the water. Also a greater association of red and of blood with my dead folk (which resulted in the use of a floral’n’fruit scented repour candle, to nourish them in color and scent. Its going over well, so the jar candle with the same wax mixture may be their next offering. That or the scrumptious spiced cake/cider repour). There is a rumbling in my mind of the separation of active ancestors and passive ancestors by those who choose to be blood (red) instead of bone (white), and the different strengths and weaknesses, but it still needs to percolate (as opposed to the Ghede, who choose to be purple and gold and silver and whatever they damn well please XD ).

So there you are. One redhead’s ramblings on the personal significance of periods. My verdict is the title- they are interesting, but mostly strange.

Advertisements