The end of session is in sight, and pictures are all I have the energy for.

I am not quite to the point of counting the hours until the end of this year's New Mexico legislative session, but it's close. We only have 13 calendar days left -- but really it's 12 days because I work a half day on Sundays and the final day (Saturday, March 22nd -- mark your calendars) has a hard stop at noon. And when I say "hard stop", I mean "hard stop"; New Mexico doesn't do the thing that some legislatures do and extend the session by literally stopping the clock.

Anyway, my point is that it's nearly over, and I'm tired. So here are some photos.

Last week, it was warm enough for Tigs and me to get a little porch time in after work. I thought maybe spring had come early. Oh haha. Yesterday morning, we woke up to several inches of snow. I got this artsy shot of the sconce on my deck through the fabulous wall o' windows -- and I'm glad I took the picture when I did, because it was already melting (hence the tracks of water down the window), and now the snow is nearly gone. 

Lynne Cantwell 2025

From the artsy to the ridiculous: I spotted this, um, object mounted to the wall in a legislators' office on our floor. It looks to be made out of actual horseshoes. Is it art? Is it a hat rack? Let me know what you think. 

Lynne Cantwell 2025

Finally: I believe I mentioned a while back that one side of my new cube has windows that face a blank wall. I ordered a wall decal from an Etsy shop and affixed it to the window. Now I have a view! 

Lynne Cantwell 2025

It came with a bunch of star stickers, which I may put up someday when I'm bored -- after session is over.

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I'm still trying to figure out where I stashed my chile pepper lights. Those would finish off my cube decor nicely, I think. Might have to go spelunking in the closet here in a bit.

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These moments of photographic blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Yee ha!

The scariest card in the Tarot deck.

No, it's not Death, as I explained in this post several years back. To recap: the Death card is about change and transformation. Something needs to die before something better can begin. The image on the Death card in the Robin Wood Tarot deck (which is currently my favorite deck) is the Grim Reaper standing in a forest, blocking your path forward, his arm outstretched toward a side path: "The path you were on is closed to you. Now you must go that way." Change, like I said. 

I ran across another rendering of the Death card that's a tree stump with a flower sprouting from it. It kind of freaked out my therapist in DC when I showed it to her, but it's the same message of transformation: The tree died, and now something beautiful is coming up in its place. 

So, no, Death is not the scariest Tarot card. This is the scariest one: The Tower. 

Lynne Cantwell 2025

This is the version in the Robin Wood deck. It's very much like the one in the Waite-Smith deck, which is the one that's most familiar to folks (it used to be known as the Rider-Waite deck). A tower built on a rocky promontory is crumbling in the onslaught of a terrible storm. Lightning has struck the top and lit a fire; massive waves attack from below. The people in the tower are trying to save themselves by jumping from the tower -- to the rocks and the pounding waves.

In short, things ain't looking good for them.

The folks in that tower probably felt they were invincible, but they weren't. 

Ten or fifteen years ago, folks in Pagan circles began talking about messages they'd received from their deities that societal collapse was imminent. That upcoming collapse came to be known as Tower Time. The messages were warnings; the idea was to prepare for it. But I don't know that anyone really understood what we were supposed to be preparing for.

Y'all, this is it. Anybody who has been paying attention since Trump's second inauguration knows it. If you were in denial before, his belittling performance against Ukraine's president this week made it blatantly obvious.

This is why I've been thinking of talking to Perun, the Slavic god of lightning and thunder. My Czech ancestors appealed to Him to save their nation from Hitler. Hitler was eventually defeated, but a lot of pain and suffering happened before the world got there.

Anyway, I ordered a statue of Perun from a shop in Prague a couple of weeks ago, and it arrived this week. Yesterday, I welcomed Him formally and asked for his help.

Some of what I heard was relevant only to me. But I think this part is an important message to share: The Tower cannot yet be rebuilt because the foundation is still rotten.

In Tarot, the thing about the Tower is that it was always going to fall. As impressive as it looks, it was built on a bad foundation; the whole thing must fail in order to be cleared away and rebuilt on a firmer, better foundation.

What Perun is saying is that in our world, the destruction phase is not yet complete. Unfortunately, there will be more pain and suffering before we can get to the bottom of the rot and dig it out. Only then do we stand a chance of building a replacement structure that will last.

Perun did say He would try to help, so there's that. But I think how we weather the storm -- and the foundation we build on when the destruction is complete -- will be largely up to us. 

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An interesting side note, although maybe only interesting to me: You may recall that this all started a few weeks ago, when I was watching the final video for my class on Cernunnos, the Celtic horned god of the animals. There was a live ritual via Zoom scheduled on the 16th to wrap up the class, and in preparation for it, I ordered a statue of Cernunnos on Etsy from someone in Ukraine. I placed the order on February 2nd, and the statue was shipped on February 4th. It's still not here. The package made it across the ocean and through Customs okay, so that's not it; the last I heard, on February 21st, it was somewhere in Texas.

I ordered the Perun statue on February 11th, and it arrived last week. Now I don't want to get all woo-woo about this. There are many mundane reasons why Cernunnos got lost, or at least delayed, and Perun made it through. I'm just saying.

I'll let you know if Cernunnos ever shows up.

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Back to more mundane topics next week.

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These moments of towering blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Hang in there!

The problem with economic blackouts.

Back in my simple living days, one of the practices I adopted, and still do most years, is to observe Buy Nothing Day. It's always the day after Thanksgiving (that's the day after the fourth Thursday in November, if you're not an American), which is also known as Black Friday -- aka the day retailers typically make enough money on Christmas sales to put them in the black for the year. The idea is to consciously refuse to participate in the sort of shopping behavior that used to cause mobs to line up before stores opened at 6:00 a.m. and stampede to buy the low, low priced doorbuster items before they ran out.

I honestly don't know whether Buy Nothing Day ever made a dent in sales at the big-box stores. I do know that shopping habits have changed over the past 20 to 25 years. Now, a lot of folks shop online, and Black Friday has become a multiweek juggernaut. I'm certain you've noticed. We now have "Early Black Friday" sales that start weeks before Thanksgiving; Small Business Saturday; Cyber Monday; and so on. (There's also a Giving Tuesday, when you're supposed to make a donation to your favorite charity.) 

The thing is that shoppers -- even the Buy Nothing folks -- still spend as much on holiday gifts as they ever did, or maybe more. They just shop on a different day than the day after Thanksgiving.

Which brings me to this coming Friday... and the weeks ahead. 

One of my daughters texted this meme to me. I'm sure you've seen similar ones floating around on social media. For starters, we're all supposed to avoid spending any money at all this Friday, February 28th. There are exceptions for critical things such as medicine. And participants are encouraged to make purchases that day, if they do have to shop, from small, local businesses. 

The original aim was to hurt the bottom lines of companies that have rolled back DEI -- diversity, equity, and inclusion -- policies. But it has somehow morphed into a new Buy Nothing Day.

I'm going to participate. But I don't know how much of a dent it will make for us to curtail discretionary spending for a single day. Just like on the traditional Buy Nothing Day, people who keep their debit cards in their wallets this coming Friday will likely just shift their shopping to another day. And just like with Buy Nothing Day, there's no good way to gauge how much of an impact a one-day boycott will make on these giant corporations, because that's not how companies report their earnings. As a financial literacy instructor told Newsweek: "While these blackouts are normally done with the hope of positive implications, the reality is past data indicates they lead to little financial data from most major companies. At the end of the day, even if consumers support the cause, they're going to continue to fulfill their purchasing needs and desires."

As for the follow-up boycotts and economic blackout days: do we really think most Americans have an attention span long enough to remember not to buy General Mills products at the end of April? I'm not even sure the enthusiasm will carry through mid-March.

No, I believe that if we really want to make an impression on corporate America, the answer is to quit our conspicuous consumption habit entirely. 

Right after 9/11 happened, President Bush the Younger (satirist Molly Ivins used to call him Shrub to differentiate him from his father) went on TV to address the country, and one thing he said kind of stuck out like a sore thumb for me. He told us that no matter what, we should not stop shopping. I swear I am not making this up. Yes, you're scared; yes, the U.S. is under attack; yes, your government is going to find the perpetrators and make them pay; but don't let it stop you from spending money at the mall. 

Why did he say that? Because retail sales are a huge driver of our economy. It depends on regular people regularly buying stuff we only think we need. If people had quit shopping in the wake of 9/11, the economy would have tanked. 

You want to cut into the power our corporate overlords have over us? Quit giving them your money. And not just for a day or a week. Permanently. Or as permanently as you can manage it.

That is probably a bridge too far right now, when some folks may be using retail therapy to avoid paying attention to the shitshow in DC. Although the newly unemployed among the federal workforce, and those to lose their jobs shortly when the ripple effects take hold, may be forced to cut back on their spending anyway. But for the rest of us: think about it.

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There are also calls for a national strike on Friday, March 14th. Unfortunately, I can't take that day off; the legislature will still be in session for another week after that. But maybe you can.

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These moments of conspicuously consumptive blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Stay safe!

Doing what we can.

First off, I have good news about my post of last week, in which I was dismayed to discover that Czechs in World War II might have equated Perun, the Slavic god of thunder and lightning, with Hitler. I received two translations of the song from friends and family, and Perun is in fact not the bad guy. Here's the verse in question. The song is billed as being "Dedicated to Czech Brothers by American Sokol Members". This first translation is courtesy of one of my cousins. 

Let the voice of the Slavs be heard throughout the world!

Our homeland must be free!

Hitler and anyone who stands in our way

Shall be cast into hell by Perun.

Bohemia will live again!

 And here's the ChatGPT rendition, courtesy of my author buddy Chris James:

The world can already hear the Slavs' voices,
that our homeland must be free again.
Hitler and anyone who would stop us,
Perun shall strike them into hell,
"Bohemia" shall live again!

So! Two translations that make Perun a good guy. I was right! And Google Translate can suck it!

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I may still petition Perun for help with the current craziness in Washington, but it may not do much good. 

Lynne Cantwell 2025

As many of you know, I've taken a number of classes from John Beckett, a Druid priest. He posted in his blog at Patheos today that he's had a message from the Morrigan: "Lugh isn't coming to slay Balor." 

A bit of Irish mythology is in order. Balor was the chief of the Fomorians in the time of the Tuatha De Danaan. The Tuatha tried to live in peace with them, but eventually things became intolerable, and the Tuatha went to war to overthrow their enemies. The fight slogged on for some time -- until Lugh Lamfhada, the Irish god of light, broke free and cast a spear through Balor's single hideous eye, killing him. The battle was over quickly after that, and the Tuatha then made Lugh their king.

If only our situation were that simple. Our Balor is a many-headed beast; Trump is looking more and more (to me, anyway) like a figurehead, a puppet, with many other people pulling his strings, from Elon Musk to the Project 2025 gang to who-knows-who overseas. The Democrats would need a hero like Lugh to pull off a decisive victory, and let's be honest: we don't have one. Multiple people are attacking them on multiple fronts: they're calling their members of Congress; they're filing lawsuits; and so on. But the knockout blow has been elusive so far.

Really, all we can do is do what we can. For me, that means writing this blog, going to work every day, and trying to keep from reacting to the relentless onslaught of bad news.

I work for the New Mexico state legislature, which is in session right now. Working during session is pretty crazy anyway: the hours of daylight are short, the weather is cold and sometimes snowy, and the workload seems relentless (I could swear we had at least 897 rushes sent to us between noon and 1:30 p.m. today). Much of the legislation we see is well intended. We do see some wackadoodle proposals every year, but usually I can just shake my head and move on. This year, it's hitting differently, knowing there are so many people out there who think this stuff would be a good idea.

Another thing I'm noticing more this year is how much federal law is intertwined with our state laws. It's not just federal funding, although that's important; it's how so many of our state laws dovetail with federal law on the same subject. What happens if the rule of law crumbles in Washington? Will our state laws stand on their own? Will they be allowed to stand?

We are in a good place politically, here in New Mexico -- our executive and legislative branches are both controlled by Democrats, and our congressional delegation is all Democratic, too. But as we learned last fall, that can turn on a dime. 

Still, we're doing what we can. Our attorney general and 13 of his counterparts in other states filed suit in Washington on Thursday to have DOGE declared unconstitutional and its actions an abuse of power. There's a hearing set for tomorrow morning. 

This isn't the only ongoing court case. But as we've learned to our dismay over the past four years, lawsuits take a long time to resolve. And our view of the future isn't clear. 

All we can do is do what we can.

That's my plan. But I think I will approach Perun anyway. He may not be the hero we need, but He does have experience in fighting Nazis. And we need all the help we can get.

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These moments of doggedly determined blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Hang in there.