Justifying Romuva

I usually have a combination of thoughts and feelings with regards to statements such as this:

My apologies for the nearly duplicate posting, but just like the rumors I have heard about (the Slavic deity) Perun; I have likewise read (in “Of Gods & Holidays”) that Perkunas is associated with sacred fires and the oak.
However this book also does not cite its sources. Does anyone know what source materials are used to make these claims??

This was in response to a post I made on a message board for Reconstructionists. My thoughts, when I read such comments are twofold; I am saddened and angered.

I keep running into this, and I’m sure my fellow Eastern Europeans feel the same way. I hate getting comments such as the above because it raises my hackles, to me it sounds like “please justify your faith”.  Romuva, which is the modern expression of an ancient faith, a faith that has persisted for a very long time. Lithuania did not officially start being converted to the Catholic Faith until the marriage between Grand Duke Jogaila and Jadwiga, Queen of Poland…. conversion started in and around 1387, and it took about 200 years for conversion. Many of the beliefs, practices and customs continued until the 20thC. Our last sacred Oak Grove was chopped down in the 1790s.

Lithuanians are not reconstructing anything. It’s there, it has always been there. The problem with amateur pseudo-academics is that they are accustomed to studying dead cultures. The revival of the Roman Traditions, Hellenismos, etc … all the information is available in texts written a couple millenia ago, but there is no empirical proof that any of these beliefs, traditions have survived — they are myths now.

Lithuanians are referring to folksongs learnt at their grandmother’s knee, folktales taught as children in kindergarten, little proverbs uttered by our mothers when there is a thunderstorm. We never went through a witch-hunt/craze like Western Europe did. Our herbalists/faith healers were and still are revered.

Our source text? The “Liaudies Dainos“, good luck trying to read that if you aren’t fluent in the language. That’s the problem as well. Much of the “source text” that these pseudo-academics whitter on about are not reading their own source texts in the original languages. How many of them can read ancient greek? latin? ancient icelandic? Very few. They rely on translations, and much of the translating work was done decades ago. The expectation now is that us Eastern Europeans get on with it and translate as fast as possible so that they can analyse our source texts.

There is very little appreciation for the rich tapestry of customs and traditions which we have retained and nurtured – against oppression by the Russian Empire (Ems Ukaz anyone?) and then by the Soviet Authorities who tried to stamp out all vestigages of national pride, and even the languages. Very little understanding, or willingness to understand, that our faith is not something from dusty tomes — but a living and breathing and vital component of our lives.

I find it more than annoying that my faith structure in essence is being called into question. The whole – you believe that Perkunas drives a chariot pulled by 2 black goats, show me the source evidence for this. There is no handily packaged set of texts such as the Illiad or the Oddessy for these pseudo-academics to challenge and mull over. The fact that we say – our songs, our folktales, our prayers – means nothing.

I say bugger.

Bladder Exstrophy

I was born with Bladder Exstrophy, back in the Ice Age when wooly mammoths roamed the earth. Back then there were no support groups for parents, family members or even BE patients. We basically rolled up our sleeves and coped as best as we could. Fast forward a couple decades and there are multiples of resources for those looking for information and support. Basically, today’s mum & dad and their BE/CE child have access to medical information which was not readily available back during the Ice Age.

What confounds me, when I read messages from parents and family members of BE/CE patients is how difficult it is. How their child is suffering from a major case of depression and shame. While I was growing up my parents never allowed me to be ashamed of my exstrophy — why be ashamed of something I have no control over.. it would be like being ashamed that I was born with brown eyes instead of hazel, nothing can be done about the past. My parents raised me to be strong, being able to hold my head up high and deal with my birth defect in a straightforward manner.

I’ve had an interesting surgical history – first surgery in June 1971 at Sick Kids, while still an infant. Next in 1975, then 1983, 1988, 1992, a few teflon injections, 2007 .. and several angioplasty procedures to insert a PIC cos I have crap veins.

I’ve had NG tubes shoved down my nose and into my stomach, many IVs, way too many blood draws, a cut-down when I was 4 while in hospital (rushed into emergency midnight surgery), found out I have a slightly smaller than normal aorta, low blood pressure, reflux of the left ureter AAAANNNDDD I’m lactose-intolerant to cap it all off. All of this crap and I have never been depressed over my situation; annoyed that my body doesn’t obey me, but never depressed.

Am I a special case of a happy go-lucky individual? Nope. I can be moody as all hell. But the reason I have not been depressed or ashamed of my exstrophy is because of the way I was raised by my parents. So it angers me when I see parents of underage BE patients lamenting “my poor baby, his/her life will never be normal”… what is normal? If you hold onto such an attitude the child will pick up on it. Exstrophy, for my parents, was devastating in that they had no one for support. But they accepted my exstrophy as a learning experience from which both they and myself could grow from.

I am a strong person. I have been dealing with medical suppliers since I was 13 years old, booking my own appointments since I was 14 — I was encouraged to take control of my own care. And if these parents did the same for their kids I wouldn’t be surprised if the next generation of BE adults will be just as strong and capable.

Help me with my Monthend!!!

So was the plaintive cry of one of my co-workers who couldn’t get her Balance Sheet to balance. Madness, I know.. the very structure of a Balance Sheet means that it will balance. For several centuries now the core premise of accounting is the double-entry system — for every debit there must be a credit. In prior generations when bookkeeping was done on paper ledgers it was possible to miss either the DR or the CR. But in today’s new-fangled computerised accounting systems a journal entry will not post unless it balances.

My co-worker was entering her financial statements into our monthly reporting package. We report in 1000’s so there could be some rounding differences here or there, which can easily be handled. She was off by a freaking $10K on her retained earnings. She asked me if she adjusts her Net Income for that $10K, would that work.

I had to patiently explain to her that there is no difference between the concept of “Income Statement” and “P&L” – they are both the same thing.

She finally figured out, after much coaching on my part for the past 2 days, that her discrepancy isn’t in Retained Earnings, but in her reported Fixed Asset numbers.

The concept of “tick & bob” goes right over her head.

Hell, defined by a Chem Student

Got this off a friend and I thought it hilarious:

The following is an actual question given on University of Washington chemistry mid term.

The answer by one student was so ‘profound’ that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well :

 

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle’s Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant..

One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let’s look at the different religions that exist in the world today.

Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle’s Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over..

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, ‘It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,’ and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct……leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting ‘Oh my God.’

 

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED AN A+.

 

 

The Huzzah has Ended

Blast! I had blogged nearly a month ago that I was infection free for the first time in 3 months. This has ended. I have a roaring infection again, this time with bladder spasms. This has freaked me out a tad.

My last hospital stay, where I went septic, started with massive bladder spasms about 2 days before dragging myself to the ER where I promptly got even more sick.

I have a script which I intend on filling tomorrow morning. In the meanwhile I have taken some muscle relaxants and using some breathing techniques the nurses at Sick Kids taught me years ago to deal with pain which cannot be killed by meds. I’ve also taken 3000mg of vitamin C, vitamin E and some d-mannose. Hope that holds until I get to the pharmacy.

Hair Removal for Women

This was stolen from a friend….

 

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal – The Epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now…the wax. Read on………

My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, and play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet. So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those ‘cold wax’ kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I’m not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!) So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. (‘Cold wax,’ yeah…right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn’t the best feeling, but it wasn’t too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire. With my next wax strip I move north.

After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself….RRRRIIIPPP!!!! I’m blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!….OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning, I notice that I’ve only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP! Another deep breath and RIPP! Everything is spinning and spotted. I think I may pass out…must stay conscious…must stay conscious. Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe…OK, back to normal. I want to see my trophy – a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There’s no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???

Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip…it’s not! I touch. I am touching wax. I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG Mistake…remember my foot is still propped upon the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down. Sealed shut! My butt is sealed shut. Sealed shut! I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself ‘Please don’t let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off!’

What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I’ll run the hottest water I can stand, into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right???*WRONG!!!!!!!*I get in the tub – the water is slightly hotter than that used to Torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment – I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub….in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn’t melt cold wax. So, now I’m stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!!

God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!! I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It’s a very good conversation starter. ‘So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!’ There is a slight pause. She doesn’t know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, ‘Are we talking cheeks or hole or hoo-ha?’ She’s laughing out loud by now…I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else’s night.

While we go through various solutions. I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor…Nothing feels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I’m pretty sure I’m going to need post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event. My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace…. the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. It’s sooo painful, but I really don’t care. ‘IT WORKS!! It works !!’ I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair….

THE HAIR IS STILL THERE…….ALL OF IT! So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I’m numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point. Next week I’m going to try hair color……

Joyful Day in Accounting

I had such great fun today in the office, oh how I danced and flitted about from file to file.

My co-worker, who is responsible for cash applications, cleared about parts of Accounts Receivable this past Friday. Unfortunately, she cleared out the wrong items. My Accounts Receivable is in a huge mess, for reporting purposes, and who has to answer for this at monthend to the Director of Finance, the CFO and Regional Headquarters? Me. Now I have to fix another’s mistake, which takes me away from my own work.

Received a note from a vendor that they are suspending our account until we pay up for invoices outstanding for more than 180days. We have invoices outstanding for close to a year, sitting on some Account Manager’s desk – their excuse being that t hey are far too busy to process the invoices. We hold to the opinion that if you are the one placing the order, you should be the one making sure the vendor gets compensated. Now we  have other vendors refusing to do business with us, cos it heard it on the grapevine that we take 3 months or longer to pay invoices. My suggest to the Production Accounting Manager is that either we escalate the issue to Senior Management (as this affects the ability of our company to function) or to make it more personal and direct – lock out the individuals responsible for this fiasco from their email accounts.

Have to self-assess PST going back to September 2005. I am doing it for all 7 units. My co-workers are refusing to do their own self-assessments, preferring that I do it. I’d rather not, but it has to be done so that we don’t suffer at the next PST audit.

Doctors Can be Such Twits & Other Fun Stuff

This post will be a rambling bit of an update on what has been happening in my life lately – and I know how exciting you all find it.

Health:

(1) I made a complaint about a doctor this past Friday morning. The previous night I had gone to the medical clinic (The Doctor’s Office at 595 Bay Street, Toronto) cos I hadn’t had gotten the results of the urinalysis from the prior week, and I still wasn’t feeling that wonderful. The doctor I got was some idiot who decided to talk over everything I said, ignored my concerns and decided to write a script for a medication that wasn’t working at that moment — based on lab results from 5 weeks ago. When I expressed my concerns I was told rather angrily that I cannot come in and dictate what drugs I am to have. I was taken aback — as I have never been told this before in my life. I rang the Clinic Manager the next day and I told her that I was not best pleased with a twit who thinks he knows better about UTIs than a chronic like myself with Bladder Exstrophy, especially with a very angry stoma. She took down my concerns and told me that she’d have a little chat, reminding the doctor that chronics are extremely proactive about their own health and tend to be extremely knowledgeable about pharmaceuticals and their efficacies.

(2) I was a spaz yesterday. Yesterday was a friend’s birthday celebration and we went to a very decadent ice cream/creperie place. At my duly appointment time I proceeded to the ladies to cath. I had no frickin’ catheters with me. I am normally really on the ball with regards to this, as cathing is THE only way I can empty the bladder … no cath= more pain. Thankfully two friends helped me out, driving me over to Sunnybrook.

(3) I am still astounded at the stupidity that abounds at work. My co-workers are still hesitant to call the Help Desk, so I invariably end up fixing their problems – Beanie, how do I do this vlookup? Beanie, my report doesn’t look right, how do I fix tis filter? Beanie, why are you rejecting my department’s invoices? Beanie, my screen is all blue with white text (yes, the dread blue screen of death) …how do I fix this?

(4) I had a squee moment the other day. There’s a webinar on IFRS (International Financial Reporting Standards) on November 10th which I really really really want to take. Canadian GAAP (generally accepted accounting principles) will be wholeheartedly going IFRS come 2011. I know, accounting-geek moment, but I rarely get those.

(5) My friend Geeklawyer is still under this delusional impression that I will do his accounts. He squealed with a little school girl when I said I want to do my ACCA (British designation, equivalency with my accounting association).

The Accounts Payable Tango

I was informed by my assistant today that she’s been fielding a number of phone calls from Account and Creative people with regards to Purchase Orders and vendor invoices. When my assistant tells these individuals that they need to speak to me, they’d rather not, and would rather deal with the Production Accounting Manager.

Why this abhorence of dealing with moi? Seems I’m a bit of a stickler for following procedures. I won’t allow an invoice to be paid until all the proper steps have been taken – namely, a Purchase Order needs to be signed by a vendor along with the appropriate individual within our own company and if they do not have the authority to sign over a certain amount they need to go to their managers. I have sent invoices back, saying that the invoices will not be paid until the Account/Creative individual completes all the steps.

The Production Accounting Manager tends to be more flexible and will try and work with the individuals – contacting the vendors, faxing the Purchase Orders and attaching these completed POs to the invoicing. I don’t do this, nor should I. These individuals requesting work from the vendors have been told countless times that Purchase Orders should be signed by vendors before the invoicing comes in.

So, it appears that I am a hard-ass because I insist that the Account/Creative people follow through and make sure that the vendor process is properly adhered to — since we did not do very well on a Sarbannes Oxley internal audit, and A/P is a favourite target of all auditors, I am making sure that all the process requirements are followed. For that I am difficult … c’est la vie!

Velines/Ilges

Last year at Harvestfest, during Mr Brian’s “Celtic Goddesses Rite” I made a boast of sorts, to show peeps that there are indeed pagans and even people (shocking I know) east of Germany. Yes, a huge swath of Europe has been ignored (about half of it to be exact) or forgotten by not only those who follow earth-based religions, but by scholars themselves .. is it because much of the history has not be translated into English? Is it cos people just don’t care and truly believe that Eastern Europeans have not contributed much to European history? I don’t know.

Anywho, I made the boast and made a few people giggle (in particular one acquaintenance, MC). So, here’s my attempt.

Velines is a time of remembering ones ancestors, reflecting on our relationships with those still with us and those who have come before us. Here’s a write up by Audrius Dundzila, former Elder for Romuva USA, which can be found at http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Oracle/2810

Velines: Feast for the Dead

by Audrius Dundzila, Ph.D.

First published in “romuva/usa”, Issue #6, 1991.

Velines is the ancient Lithuanian holiday to commemorate the dead. Traditionally, it began after completion of all the fall harvest celebrations and used to be celebrated for four weeks in October, culminating on the first weekend in November. Under Christian influence, the festival was forcibly reduced to one day, November 2nd.

At home, memorial meals used to be repeatedly held to remember the dead of the family or of the village. Since for centuries Lithuanian farmers lived in the same homesteads as their ancestors, it was believed that the veles of the ancestors protected and helped their children and blessed their lands. Therefore, the head of the household with candles in hand circled the family lands or at least the family house in preparation for Velines.

As with all holidays, the pirtis or sauna bath preceded the meal. The pirtis is a wood-stoked steam sauna heated by hot rocks. The oven of the pirtis is heated for 3-4 hours, making the rocks inside red-hot. Men precede women and children in the pirtis. Hot water is poured on the rocks, filling the room with hot vapours. Entering the pirtis alternates with swimming in a river or lake several times. While in the pirtis, people beat themselves with vantai (birch tree) branches to stimulate circulation. During the last visit to the pirtis, people wash with soap. For Velines, the pirtis was re-heated after the women left and everything was left for the veles to bathe.

The guests gathered at the table in silence. The meals always began with invitations of the veles into the home and prayers to them, requesting health for the people and animals, and a bountiful harvest for the fields. In some places this ritual took place in total darkness, in other places by candlelight. A door or a window to the outdoors would be left open in order to give the veles a method of entering the home. In ancient times, the zynys (semi-prophetic Pagan priest in charge of funerals and Velines celebrations) led this part of the ritual. The following prayer was recorded in Lyda: “Veles of the dead, whom we still remember in this home; respected ancestors of our family; honoured women and men worthy of eternal remembrance; especially my grandmother and grandfather, mother and father (naming specific names as appropriate); also relatives, children and all, whom death took from this home, we invite to our annual feast. May it be as pleasant for you, as your memory is for us.” In some places, all those present named all the dead they wished to remember.

The invocations included beer libations. In ancient Lithuanian religion, beer was the sacrificial drink. At Velines, everybody -rich and poor- acquired beer, even if they could normally not afford it. A prayer would be said and dainos for Velines would be sung, then some of the beer would be sacrificed by pouring it on the ground. The libation included the words: “This is for you, vele,” or similar words. After that, everybody present drank from the special cup, used only for commemorations of the dead. In some parts of Lithuanian, this ritual was very complex.

The meals would normally contain no meat or fish, although some parts of Lithuania insisted on blood sausage, pork and poultry being served in the meal. Dark and red dishes (symbolizing blood) made with beets would be served along side grain, legume and cheese dishes. The grain and legume salad sweetened with honey know as kucia would be served. In Lithuanian folklore, this is the traditional dish for feeding veles. In some locations 12 or 13 dishes would be served, symbolizing the solar or lunar year. Pancakes and small rolls- one for each living and dead family member- were popular in some parts of Lithuania.

The dead would be called to eat, as follows: “Sit and eat as the Gods allow.” After some silent time, the living would sit down at the table to eat. The first morsel from every dish would be sacrificed to the veles. In some places, this meant “pouring” it as a libation on the floor. In other places, the food was placed on a special dish. This dish would be placed at the corner of the table or on a table in the honoured corner of the room. Food would also be offered to the dead by sacrificing it in the hearth. In Vilnius, the prayer read as follows: “Remember the ones who burned to death, who drowned, who died from falling trees or from lightning bolts. Remember those exiled to foreign lands, the tired and those who died in accidents. Come, veles, drink and eat with us.”

This prayer was obviously directed to Gabija or Gabjaujis, the Goddess of the Hearth Flame or the God of the Protected Fire. Aromatic grasses would also be smouldered.

In addition to members of the family, lonely persons and elgetas (beggars) would be invited to the meal. The elgetas survived by living off donations and by wandering from village to village. They were once viewed as religious hermits who could easily contact the veles and the Gods. An elgeta did not have to be poor. Even rich people took up being an elgeta for periods of time, during which they lived off alms they received. Other elgetas were the wandering poor and homeless. Food for the elgetas as well as for the wandering veles would be placed on the house porch or outdoors underneath the kitchen window. Folk wisdom says, “What you do for an elgeta, you do for a vele.”

During the meal in ancient times, the zynys would watch for signs from the veles in attendance. In later times, one could see veles in the steam rising from food, in the reflection on the window, in the reflection on the inside of rings, and in dreams. The meal concluded with Velines dainos and folk dances, in which the veles also participated.

After the meal, the dead would be asked to return whence they came with the following or similar words: “Grant us, veles; be healthy, Godspeed, bless our relatives, peace to this home! Return to where destiny leads you, and remember not to do any harm to our yard, garden grove, and fields.” Then everyone would repeat: “There is, there is not even a spirit here.”

During Velines, people would also visit the graves of the dead. Cemeteries used to be located in villages, indication a close relation between the living and the dead. numerous candles would be lit at the graves of the dead, as still is done today. Until the beginning of the twentieth century, food from the Velines meals would be placed on the graves of the dead, again to feed the veles. 1

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