Welcoming Cynthia and Year 37

Hours after the moon began to wax, I brought home a three-month-old kitten from a nearby rescue to round out to a triad of cats. For the past few weeks, I have been doing cat introductions — a lot faster than anticipated, as my established cats were more distressed by the kitten banging at the door, meowing, and throwing her paws totally underneath it than they were at actually meeting her face-to-face.

I had intended to add a third, and I had received permission from my landlady, but I hadn’t expected things to move so quickly. The rescue had processed a hoarder case recently, and they were trying to move animals as quickly as possible to make room for more, as it’s the beginning of kitten season in New England. Plus, the kitten’s foster was about to go traveling, so later in June wouldn’t have worked.

Cynthia is the name I wanted for the third cat. There is a Ben Jonson “Ode to Cynthia” from a drama he wrote, Cynthia’s Revels, that is sung on Mike Oldfield’s Incantations, an album that has been around my entire life because my mom is a fan of his music (not the person, to be clear) to the point of being active in leading IRC fan servers and forums and social media enclaves over the decades. I hadn’t realized it was going to be just hours after the dark moon that I would bring her home, but it seems very fitting the way the timing worked out.

I hadn’t intended to get a kitten — I wanted a cat who would get along with my established girls, and based on who the rescue had available, she seemed like my best option. It was beneficial for apartment living that she is too young to be territorial yet, so I only had to worry about that with my established girls.

I prayed to Artemis and Bast for her successful integration into my home.

One of my big worries was that my mom would be visiting for my birthday, and I wanted the kitten to be out of her base camp so I could use that room to host. It ended up working out that the kitten was out by then, but my mom couldn’t come up for my birthday because her very elderly poodle is in decline, so I spent Monday alone. Over the weekend, though, I had travelled to western CT to have gluten-free cupcakes from the By the Way Bakery in Greenwich, eat some soft tacos in Stamford, and enjoy a few leisurely hours with a close friend in a park where we discovered that eagles had just moved in to nest.

One big impact of bringing home the kitten is that integrations take a lot of work, so I haven’t been at my computer very much over the past few weeks. I’ve been texting my family more and have been inviting a few people over to socialize the kitten properly. This has been great for my neck, shoulders, eyes, and mental health. My middle sister’s husband is deployed, so she’s acting like herself again in texts — which I understand may not last, but it’s very welcome. Now that integrations are progressing more, I’m slowly catching up on the Platonic community things that I’ve let slip over the past few weeks (mostly not on the blogosphere). Those are the main spaces where I hang out with other polytheists when I’m not diving into the agora to learn about what other people are doing and interact with acquaintances. I don’t miss being active on social media, and I’d rather interact with people in places where they’re encouraged to be their best selves, the opposite of what algorithms reward. All people are fundamentally good, but many of the tech decisions made by programmers and corporations have been designed to muddy that inner light and keep people (negatively) emotionally aroused and isolated from one another for the sake of money. We really have to give ourselves some tough love to take care of ourselves and shield ourselves from that mire. And the older I get, the more I think that Iamblichus was right for how he focused on building others’ practices up rather than polemics.

This year, I have set a few habits that I want to build.

• Pray before I use my computer to set the tone for how I want to use my devices. This doesn’t need to be a complex prayer — for now, I am murmuring brief words to Athene and Hermes.
• Prune what I watch, read, and listen to so that most of it supports cultivating and sustaining a healthy and virtuous lifestyle. This means aggressively curating my YouTube and Instagram feeds so that the content I see supports the goals I have set for myself. I already get sobering updates from Doctors Without Borders, the International Rescue Committee, and other charities that I donate to, so I am up-to-date.
• Start an annual five-month “use up everything” cleanse the day after my birthday every year — which will run from mid-June to mid-November. I got this idea from following Waste-Free Planet on Instagram and from reading about how, if we all lived a 1960s consumerism level, we’d have enough resources for everyone. I noticed myself buying some things I didn’t actually need this year, which is sobering after how much time I spent in my 20s and early 30s decluttering and cultivating a curated, budget-friendly space and how proud I was to get to that point. I want my behavior to match my values. I also need to manage my pantry inventory a bit better. And I want to travel for a few weeks in 2026.
• Resume daily prayers to Athene. I did an annual prayer cycle for her several years ago, and I realized that I miss it. I also want to pray more to Artemis this year — I realized while singing to her during the first few days of cat introductions that I missed singing like that for her — and figure out how to pray to Bast in the ritual context I’m working in. I want to sing to Nantosuelta on the seasonal change points this year.
• Be deliberate about friendships and other people. As Solon said, “Do not be hasty in making friends, but do not abandon them once made.” I’m hoping to find a few local(ish?) polytheist friends along the CT Metro-North within the next few years or, pie-in-the-sky, it would be nice to have a gym buddy?

Last night, I pulled a book out of the shelf, Works of Hesiod and the Homeric Hymns, translated by Daryl Hine. I picked up the book when I was 20 and just starting to integrate more historical elements into my religious practice, and I am now 37. For years, I read its version of Hymn 21: To Apollon at my shrine. It felt very cozy to read it again, short and sweet.

Phoebus, the swan sings of you with clear note and with musical wingbeats
as it alights with a bound on the bank of the eddying river
Peneus; you does the rhapsode whose diction is pleasant remember
always to sing first and last as he handles his resonant lyre.
This is my greeting to you, O my Lord; I implore you in music.