The Goddess Within

Summary: B.L.A.M.E, Truth, Fear & Purging

2011-11-15T22:36:00.000-05:00

Guarded -- Chad Perrone

My teeth they hurt from grinding

And my head will explode from holding it in

I pictured myself standing over you

One foot on your chest

Victorious

Well I'll hate this place forever more

Because the world looks half of what it was

And I know that everyone won't be like you

But I'll still keep my hands up next to my face

And I blame you

For my headaches

And I blame you

For my mistakes

And my bad ways

I wake up tired from dreaming

Because I fight you best when I'm sleeping

Because I dreamt that I stood right over you

I had both feet on your chest

And I stood victorious

Now I blame you

For my headaches

And I blame you

For my mistakes

And my bad ways

There are days I thought I'd give up

I'm just trying to get back from you what I brought

I said there are days I swore I'd give up

But that's not today

That's not today

Because I blame you

For my headaches

And I blame you

For my mistakes

And my bad way

For my heartache

And this fucking bad name

For my mistakes

And my bad way

Well I don't need you to wish me well

I don't need you to wish me well.

I haven't been able to get this song out of my head, repeatedly playing it over and over again since September, when my Distilling the Shadows had begun. It was an interesting moment of hearing various songs play in my mind as it all began to unfold, all of them suitable to what I was going through, but this one in particular struck me as interesting in the beginning. I couldn't stop hearing the first few lines in my head at random moments of the day. Normally I can find the distinction fairly quickly to the deeper message a song is sharing with me, this time I just knew I had to play it over and over and over again... I can recall a 30 minute drive one evening where I listened to nothing but this song on repeat for the duration of the drive. Even then, it wasn't enough.

It occurred to me that whenever I wrote in my distillation journal I was grinding my teeth. Hard. I would take a breath, release the tension, and go back to writing, only to find myself grinding my teeth again, particularly in parts where I was addressing anger or shame.

This song is pretty much my theme for that time -- in battle with the dysfunctional Shadow Self, I would be extremely tired from restless nights of dreaming, and I still get choked up when he proclaims putting one foot (or both) on their chest, victorious... many migraines pounded my brainwaves during those seven weeks. I honestly couldn't remember a time without a migraine, it was that intense.

I didn't have much expectation of what would happen when the journal was burned. I was ready, but I didn't want to let it go in some ways. It contained pain that I didn't know if I could let go, because I somehow wanted to hold onto the proof that I could be that honest with myself, to reveal those pieces that we hide away from others, because I didn't want anyone else to see what I could barely stand to see myself, and yet the familiarity of this being, this side of myself that I gave life, I didn't know that I was ready to embrace its letting go.

Burning them... it was more symbolic in its pain than I realized it would be. I wasn't emotional about it, I was almost indifferent, almost defiant, yet reminding myself that this was all choice. I chose to distill, I chose to journal, just as I was choosing to throw it into the bonfire to let it go. It never caught fire. It kissed the flames, then nothing. Nothing. It just sat there, with everything burning around it, in front of it, even behind it! Yet, my journal remained flame-less. I stood there and realized that I hadn't let it go yet. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and heard nothing... the loudest "nothing" of all...

It spoke, not whispering, not even yelling, just this tone that quite familiar, telling me "you have to let it go to see it burn". Then panic struck. Not panic for releasing, panic at the notion that it might stay there, surrounded by ash and yet never rising from the ashes itself. I needed to see it burn. I told the journal just that, that I needed to see it burn... I needed it. Then another deep breath came as the wind spiraled around me, and I said "I am ready to let you go"... and it caught fire instantly.

Kali-Ma joined me in initiation just as She had several years ago when I did my first Shamanic apprenticeship... just as fierce, I welcomed Her back in this form. She asked of my flesh as an offering, and what was surprising in that moment was what specific part she was taking -- my left arm. Flesh from where my sacred tattoo sits, a healing art to remind me just how One I am with the Goddess...

Kali-Ma returned again in the coming days, as we were honoring Her at our Womyn's Circle, and the download of the ritual She shared with me came instantly. Dancing Fear with Her was something I was truly looking forward to... I didn't know then that She had one last initiation for me.

Earlier in the year I had spoken about my guides telling me that this year would be all about spiritual vulnerability and rawness. I was meant to share and shed -- share the stories of my past, divulge more of my depression since youth, of my attempted suicide, even portions of the assault that led to it all, as well as the voice of the Goddess so prominent in rescuing my Light from trying to kill myself one November evening.

I obliged, out of curiosity for how this would enfold, out of fear (as contradictory as that may sound, because I am quite like a moth to the flame when it comes to fear: can't resist), and out of understanding that while fearful in the moment, I knew it would bring deep healing; and it has. I became more honest about my past, and that journey into embracing my vocation as Priestess/Healer/Teacher... however, I knew that I was willfully holding onto one piece, the biggest Shame I was carrying that made it into virtually every distillation journal entry I had written... Saturday night Kali-Ma asked me to share it... no... She doesn't ask... She TOLD me to share it. She said "It's time now", and I found myself terrified.

What would people think? Would this reveal change how everyone sees me? Would any source of Light others see be tainted by the dark shame of a "secret" I was carrying? Would these sacred systers in the group look at me and only see that story?

In the end, I knew it was time. My guides had been saying over and over to let go, so it was fitting that the final piece would be urged from Kali-Ma. She demanded, and I watched Her stand over me, waiting.

Up to this point I had shared deep fears I was carrying, of being forgotten if I disappeared; of not ever embracing my Truth because I stand so centered at times in dysfunctional Illusion; of never fully appreciating or loving my Willendorf image because of bullshit perceptions from people who loathe the image of the Willendorf, and who try to shame me for that; to fear of success, and my own Inner Light... to the deepest secret of others finding out that I was once a cutter, and that it's a constant battle with Self to not return to old ways of shame.

I was a cutter. It started at 16 when the biggest portion of my pain began. When my first attempted suicide began. I don't know how well I kept it secret; I know that I had bullshit excuses from the family pet's to walking into something to being clumsy... all easily embraced excuses, I was/am a klutz at times, however, no one really questioned me further. It was the dark secret I carried that was only shared with my husband, as we began dating 6 months after all of this had begun. Since then, it had only been shared with less than a handful of people.

I carried the shame, and I knew from the onset of this raw task that I would need to reveal this piece, to let it go, to truly have no secrets in my life, to be free of denial and say that while I was in pain, I was also in healing.

The last time I cut? February, 2005. The last time I tried to kill myself. I was laying on the bathroom floor, bleeding, so engrossed in pain that I couldn't see or taste anything else. I won't ever forget the look on Drac's face when he walked in and saw me. I interpreted it as shame then, because I needed to be stuck in that dance, but it was only until years later that I could just see his own pain, to see the womyn he loved, someone he sees in ultimate bright Light, laying there, thinking she's nothing but a worthless piece of shit, loved by no one, and convinced this world wasn't for her.

Two weeks later I found out I was pregnant... I vowed then it would stop. I wouldn't transfer this energy to my child, and I would work on even deeper release than I had. How fitting that during that time I was doing deep Shamanic training, deep in distillation then, so sucked into pain, but not really having the support I do now. Yes... I know I have the support, even when I deny that truth to myself.

In 2009 a healing artist helped me to bring healing to that piece, to the cutting. The tattoo that everyone loves on my arm so much, it's symbolic of a reality that isn't my path. A Goddess standing on my arm where much of the pain was inflicted, an image-less face staring back at me, a mirror that I, too, am Goddess, surrounded by the chant: She changes everything She touches and everything She touches changes. If I cut me, I cut her, I cut my daughter, I cut wombynhood...

So as I listened (and continue to listen) to this song over and over again, I can't help but feel triggered by the word "blame". I don't necessarily resonate with it, but it pushes me, so I had to look at what it meant... in a moment of journaling I heard: Believing Lies Abstractly Made Everywhere.

I was believing lies. My lies, your lies, everyone's lies. And I created pain out of that. In that pain, I chose to stir up a cauldron of Anger, Fear, Jealousy and Shame. Instead of dumping it out (for fear of contamination), I became the martyr, and took it all within myself, thinking I was helping the greater good, when instead denying my Truth and Light was the biggest disservice of all.

I've been going deep. Deep into the last of the rotted roots that need destroying. The final cycles of this distillation says it will start to complete itself this month, as I become rooted in rawness, ready to come back to the cycle of Light.

Just as "Guarded" kept me purging and digging deeper, "The Walking Dead" has helped me to balance, and cry, and heal, as most of Chad's music has done for me over the many years I have known him.

The Walking Dead -- Chad Perrone

I would have driven myself crazy
Had I tried to predict
That everything I had ever worked for
Would bring me to this
Nothing ever works out the way you want,
Despite your best plans
The final product seldom looks like
What you drew out by hand

So if I could trust in the things that you've said
If I could cherish what little is left
Just breathe new life into the walking dead
Would there still be this sentiment?

I might have told you
That I am not one to believe in much
Blame it on years of falling apart
On the absence of luck
But I am no different
Than anyone else with half a heart
But it feels like the wrong feet
Keep on leading me out from the start

So if I could trust in the things that you've said
If I could cherish what little is left
Just breathe new life into the walking dead
Would there still be this sentiment?

All of the wrong words keep rushing out
Exploding like fireworks when they leave my mouth.

So if I could trust in the things that you've said
If I could cherish what little is left
Just breathe new life into the walking dead
Would there still be this sentiment?

You can blame it all on my bad habits love
You can blame it on me
You can blame it all on my bad habits love
You can blame it on me

Someday I'll learn to let go of it
Someday I'll learn to leave
Someday I'll learn to let it go, let it go
Someday I'll learn to leave.
So if I could trust in the things that you've said
If I could cherish, cherish heaven.

)0(

The Between.

2011-10-23T22:28:00.000-04:00

My world has been on a constant stream of fast-forward this month. It began in a flurry of emotions from the distillation, and then it evened out for a while, all while dipping my feet in various worlds of communication; I could very well be officially "talked out" for a while. However, it has also been filled with some amazing busy moments of continual soulful scrying.

It's been rather interesting to observe my experience from afar: going through this distillation and facing those darkest aspects of myself that I haven't been willing/able/ready to look at. Seemingly falling apart at the seams at times, in other moments embracing the return of my Spiritual Warrior. The roller coaster ride has been intriguing, nauseating, and somewhat exhilarating. I have both loved and hated this process, loved and hated myself, loved and hated others, and each time focusing merely on the one thing I knew I could control: my breath.

I've been able to see my role with a little more clarity, and how the facilitation looks when in the deepest waters of the well, not quite drowning, but not not drowning. I see the jarred perception of being unable to swim and choosing to float. Floating for the sake of wonder and viewing the spirals around, not floating because of discomfort. I've been able to create a separation between my roles, with complete ease (much to my surprise), something my spiritual mother says is because we work from the place of deep integration and understanding of the dark that it doesn't hold us back or prevent us from our work, if anything it's an added component to the process of facilitation.

I have been sharing some of this process with friends... the space hasn't quite been held, to my standards (which I know sounds rather harsh and judgmental), and what's most intriguing is how painful this can be, and in the expression of that pain, instead of holding space what I have said creates a trigger, a reminder of their own shit, and now my shit is on hold, sitting on the side of the road, so old that the flies come to keep it company and guard it, while we inspect the newly formed shit coming from the other party... the other party not in the distillation process.

It's like sharing the story of the crazy dream you had with a friend only to have them take the moment over by shifting the attention to their own dream. Not intentional, but done without thought, just action in the moment. I have needed to journal those moments out, feeling resentful at times for taking the lid off my cauldron (which is [etherically] covered in marks and looks quite worn) only to have the other party take the lid off to their own, brand new, cauldron, without marks, without a story at all. It reminds me to look at my own boundaries, which have been more solid and formed than I thought might happen during this time, and how sometimes the gift we offer others by way of listening and holding space becomes the gift we offer ourselves by sharing our Light, and being receptive of the Light that mirrors back and forth.

My guides have been clear this year that I needed to be open about my process, about my pain, about my healing (though I tend to write more about my pain and talk more about my healing than actually writing it out publicly), but how does one share when space isn't created? How does one share when safe space isn't there... when it's empty space, waiting to be filled but never actually filled. You can create it for Self, sure, but sometimes we need others to hold the wand and cast the perimeter so we can just release.

Last night I came home from an event and the long drive had me in and out of thought. I thought about Shadow, but more intently I thought about Light. More specifically, MY Light. I feel in some ways I've become greedy with it. Claiming territory and ownership from ego's mind, running in circles looking for the best hiding place to store it so it couldn't be shared with others, and yet I know I have been sharing, quite freely. Late nights in the "Sacred Parking Lot" has me authentically one-on-one with other divine spirits in deep sharing. Quite the contrary to hoarding it away.

What I'm seeing and noticing is that my "human" role is changing. I don't know what She is going to do; I don't know if She is going to dance in unison with Spirit or if She's going to cast Illusions through everything. And yet I see Her doing both -- Her dance is so much more coordinated than any steps my physical form could ever take.

Each subtle body is aligning in its own way, purging in their own order decided upon when my ego stepped out of the equation. I'm not In Balance... but I'm not Out of Balance, either. I'm in this critical place of the Between. Not Light, not Dark. I feel a bit like the Bear both preparing for hibernation and the subtle point just before hibernation ends... the Between. It's organic, how Bears emerge, the internal clock ringing and knowing when to awaken. I'm learning that more and more from Bear, my main guide, and I feel it being applied to now, this last week before the distillation ends.

Last night in particular I had something arise, not necessarily within me, but not necessarily without me, however, it triggered something major that I needed to take the distilling journal out. What met my surprise when I pulled it off the bookcase was what was sticking out of this journal. I place this journal on a specific shelf, separate from my regular journal, in the same spot every time I use it. There's never anything loose on that shelf, or really any shelf in this specific bookcase, and yet there was something sticking out.

I was about to begin writing, ready to start labeling each page with what I needed to journal, when I actually noticed what was sticking out. It was a bookmark I had received from a daylong retreat I attended with Lama Surya a few years ago. On the back of the bookmark is a particular poem that I haven't read in about a couple of years. It was stuck inside my distilling journal -- this journal that has nothing but my darkest shadows and demons and pain stored in there, along with a specific pen I am using for this process that is only for this journal, nothing else (and will be ritually released upon completion)... to find this piece, to reread this piece, to see where I was upon this triggered moment... I was blown away. Tears flooded faster than they have all month in doing this work... it was this perfect gift in the moment to remind me of Light, of Love, of Compassion... all towards Self, towards the collective Whole... I felt freer and felt the stirrings of my Inner Bear begin, without fright, but in deep gratitude. It's not so much that "this too shall pass", it was about "this too is passing", and the power of what can happen with breath and choice.

Free and Easy

A Spontaneous Vajra Song
by Venerable Lama Gendun Rinpoche

Happiness can not be found
through great effort and willpower,

but is already present,
in open relaxation and letting go.

Don't strain yourself,
there is nothing to do or undo.

Whatever momentarily arises
in the body-mind
has no real importance at all,

has little reality whatsoever.

Why identify with,
and become attached to it,

passing judgment upon it and ourselves?

Far better to simply
let the entire game happen on its own,

springing up and falling back like waves

without changing or manipulating anything

and notice how everything
vanishes and reappears, magically,
again and again, time without end.

Only our searching for happiness
prevents us from seeing it.

It's like a vivid rainbow which you pursue
without ever catching,

or a dog chasing its own tail.

Although peace and happiness
do not exist as an actual thing or place,

it is always available
and accompanies you every instant.

Don't believe in the reality
of good and bad experiences;

they are like today's ephemeral weather,

like rainbows in the sky.

Wanting to grasp the ungraspable,
you exhaust yourself in vain.

As soon as you open and relax
this tight fist of grasping,

infinite space is there -
open, inviting and comfortable.

Make use of this spaciousness, this
freedom and natural ease.

Don't search any further
looking for the great awakened elephant,

who is already resting quietly at home
in front of your own hearth.

Nothing to do or undo,

nothing to force,

nothing to want,

and nothing missing -

Emaho! Marvelous!

Everything happens by itself.

The thing that made me smile and cry and laugh all at the same time? On my drive home I saw a rainbow... probably the first I have seen in several years... and I realized I was grasping too hard, not standing centered in the Between.

Spirit works in amazing ways, answering the call before the consciousness recognizes the need to make the call... I'm in gratitude for Divinity's blessing on a night when things felt overwhelming.

)0(

Distilling the Truth

2011-10-04T23:27:00.000-04:00

I have spent, what feels like forever, the past two months in just pure processing. Processing my daughter getting ready for a big milestone of starting kindergarten which was both exciting and painful for me... letting go... it forces one to look at fear in a way you sometimes deny, and I had been in denial for a few months leading up to this big shift in our lives. Yes, in the end it's great for her, even for me, but it was painful, and I felt alone in the process.

I know other mothers had gone through the same thing, letting their own children go in this manner, but when you've gone through it, the wisdom of the generations becomes less "yes, I hear your pain, cry if you need to, I am here" and more "eh, you will be fine, don't cry in front of her", because gods forbid I have an emotion, or worse, that my daughter sees my human side at all. Let's deny Self in favor of programming the next generation to deny themselves as well... brilliant.

To say I felt annoyed is an understatement. I haven't really spoken about those moments, nor do I intend to go in depth here. It's personal. Raw. Painful and beautiful and awakening, rolled up with various sharp edges. Still... the timing... letting go... a week before I was to begin distilling the shadow... it was divinely cosmic, I still can't stop shaking my head in awe...

Christopher describes the distillation as a "ritualistic and psychological method of inducing a crisis that can result in a form of shamanic awareness and potential initiation."

I opted to do seven weeks -- which is to say that I am still in the process of my distillation and have the rest of the month to go.

The week leading up to the official start had begun the process. I could feel it in my core, beginning to slowly rattle, and my body's response began to tighten up in fear, in dread, in hope, in excitement, in pain... it was this rollercoaster where up wasn't defined as "good" and down didn't have recognition as "bad"... up was up, down was down... it was just this ride, this indescribable ride where you are acutely aware that there is life going on around you while you can't help but move through this muck that is being rattled through the ride, and you paid for consecutive ride after ride... there is no getting off... even if you begged... and yet you're almost glad for this, to have "rules", to have structure, to have something that is YOU saying this is what you NEED to do, and when the shadow self faces the unease, it must abide, because the aligned you is the one in charge...

"Truth is a failure I cannot accept
Truth would derail you as you wistfully slept
I can't find the answers to the questions unasked
I can't find the strength to reply as you sit there so goddamned relaxed

But you won't be denied... cowardly implied."

I've been listening and singing this song in my head repeatedly since beginning the distillation process. The very first time I heard this song several years ago... I can remember how many points of fear it hit, how many times I caught my breath; how I had to pull over on the side of the road so I could bawl, because this was how I was feeling, so lost in my own personal Truth being a failure I couldn't accept. I still choke up when I hear this song, and I feel my bones begin to shatter slowly because my Truth isn't as aligned as I know it could be.

My friend Jon wrote this song -- I have no idea what his interpretation means, and I'd almost rather not know, my version is what I am battling with... against. It's a battle between Self, between Light and Dark... one aspect of me not being denied, yet which aspect of that Self was in denial was so interchangeable, I couldn't decipher it in the open, and I sometimes denied myself [the truth] asking the questions that I knew would move it... would rattle it...

I saw Christopher the next day after starting the distillation. Committed to teaching a workshop at the Southern New Hampshire Pagan Pride Day, I couldn't back out, despite how much I wanted to. The drive over was excruciating. I was in emotional and spiritual pain... I didn't want to be seen, let alone see anyone. I didn't want to socialize, I didn't want to be anything but in this process, as raw as it was, as ugly as it began, without needing to fulfill commitments. But I did. I went, committed to my commitment, though I attempted to stay fairly hidden, hoping to not talk to anyone, yet Christopher saw me within 2 minutes of being there. The one consolation I told myself to going was that I wouldn't be seeing Christopher, because he would be busy packing for an event. I didn't want to see him because he knows me well -- he knows when I am in my shit, when I am deep in my cave, when it's oblivious to everyone else, he knows, and I didn't want anyone to know.

We had a lovely walk, time spent alone together just talking and being. It was precisely what I needed, and even though we both know how well aware of this process I am, it doesn't make it easy when IN the process. Nor is it supposed to be. I didn't step into this with any notion of it being either difficult or easy... I was stepping into it with open awareness. Was I concerned? Yes. Why?

Because the last time I did some deep distillation... that was the last time I tried to kill myself. That image, that feeling, none of it was far from my mind. It was there, not in front of me, but following me. It wouldn't directly stare me in the face until the second week, where the memories came flooding back, where the air no longer tasted current, but tasted of that air, of that time, during that painful process where life was too much, where everything was too much. I could taste it again, and it scared me... it scared me... it angered me... it shamed me... I was in the boxing ring with no gloves, no bell to tell me when it would be over, and getting my ass kicked, while the sub-personalities around me did nothing but watch, wondering who would emerge victorious, without alliance to either aspect of Self.

"These columns once so sure and sturdy now are crumbling around me
My foundation can't survive unharmed this time
These faced I believed, I mean, the true belief, they always would surround me
Convenient absence of the truth the only crime..."

That particular verse in the song... it felt so prevalent to now, and yet to then as well. In fact, I believe this song came out the month I tried to kill myself. I can't help but associate the two together at times.

My columns felt sure and sturdy, and as the distillation continued, it began to unravel and crumble around me. I didn't want to see anyone, I wanted desperately to withdraw from everyone. And I slowly started to. A habit and pattern I'm not proud of, but when fear arises I run to my cave and hide, until completely forgotten about, and then I emerge, wondering where everyone is.

I've had a lot of well-meaning advice during this process -- and each time I receive it, the angrier I become. Why? Even now I'm just shrugging my shoulders, not entirely sure why, but feeling like it's more for their benefit to say it, to make themselves feel better, than to actually be there, holding space for the dark and the raw and the ugly. I have held that space for another... it's uneasy, it's painful to watch, it's scary at times, but I've been there, because I know what it's like on the other end. You don't want well-meaning advice. You don't want someone to say "just get through this and it will be better later"... fortune cookies have better advice than that!

Ah... but that's my anger emerging. Part of the aspects we are to look at: Anger, Fear, Jealousy and Shame. I had thought Anger and Shame would be most prevalent, and yet I was surprised to see how quick and easy it was to bring up issues of Jealousy. Though it does shift as each day occurs, what floods is amazing, and what feels complete is equally astounding.

I have heard a lot of advice and guidance to look towards the completion of the process... look at how things will be "better" when it's "over"... am I the only person who sincerely thinks this is bullshit advice? However, I don't deny that some people need that thread to hold onto. I used to be one of those people. I needed to believe that things would get better, even recite the Buddhist mantra of "This too shall pass"... but then I started to uncover my need to look at the "better" and when it's "over" threads instead of being in whatever I was in, in that moment, as fully present as I could be, without making it "better", but understanding what it was.

That's how I am approaching this distillation. When it's ugly, it's ugly. I'm not looking at when it will be beautiful, when I will feel Whole... I'm just looking at the ugly. Equally so, when it's phenomenal, I am in that phenomenon. I had an amazing soul retrieval a couple of weeks ago that blew my world open, my foundation really wouldn't survive unharmed this time, because it was built on illusion. The truth absent? That I lied to myself. The bigger truth? That I knew I was lying to myself... and I enjoyed it. I wanted to lie, because I wanted to embrace the illusion, because it was what I told myself I needed at the time.

"We've been rising to a simmer and the smoke can be so thick
We're ever closer to the peak, the altitude can make you sick
The fear of heights is something you must overcome
This elevator won't be stopping 'til the roof
And when it does, nobody leaves, nobody else gets on it...

You won't be denied..."

That one line, "the fear of heights is something you must overcome", gets me every time. The floodgates open, and I see the ultimate Truth there...

Right now, if I had to classify what this distillation is, currently, I would say, comparative to the weeks prior, it's better. Will it finish "better". I don't know. I almost don't care. I don't want to look at the when, crossing off the dates in my calendar until I can say "good, it's done, let's burn the fucking book now"... no, I don't want to jump to that, because then I'm not here, I'm not present, I'm not honestly unveiling the pieces needing, and even asking, to be set free... to let go. The dysfunctional shadow pieces are ready to go... I know this... I'm the one holding them captive, eluding to myself that it's the other way around, even convincing everyone around me that it's them, the dysfunction, when I know it's me, holding and grasping, because letting go means facing who I am... as Marianne Williamson said, we are more frightened by our light than our darkness...

I'm frightened by my Light. I know others see it. They've pointed it out to me, some telling me they wish they could emulate my "wisdom" and "brilliance"... I'm not fully there yet. At least not today. If you had asked me the week following my soul retrieval I felt in the center of Light... I'm in the grey-between. Not good, not bad; not light, not dark; not wanted, not unwanted. Just... here.

Yet, despite, or perhaps in spite, of this distillation process, I am feeling much more attuned to the Mysteries. It's this odd combination of being both within and without. I'm walking a tightrope that doesn't actually exist, and so my perception is split, so I can filter the information slowly. I feel the dynamic of my cellular memory shift, and I feel it traveling through my blood, beyond the streams of my veins, and it's touching more around me than I realize... like everything else does.

Yesterday, in deep contemplation of this process, of these Mysteries, I stepped outside of my place and a butterfly flew within inches of me... in front of me, to the side, stopping a moment as I recognized its deep message, then flew to the ground, where I thanked it for its message and asked if I could take a picture. She fluttered her wings in response, and fluttered her wings when I left, flying closer to me as I left. She had been around for days... yesterday I was more "awake" to recognize her.

)0(

Darkness-driven Shame

2011-08-17T17:06:00.000-04:00

"As Pluto continues its occupation of your sign, you begin to appreciate what is liberating you, as it peels away tired facades of history. This leaves you raw, exposed to the world around you." ...

I created this year as the Year of Vulnerability for myself... I decided I needed to be raw, to be exposed, to peel away those layers of illusions that I so skillfully crafted over the years. A friend of mine commented on how she felt it was both brave and scary, what I was doing, and asked why. Why would I put myself in such a position to be so exposed? In all honesty, I'm not sure how I actually responded to that. It doesn't feel "brave" to be walking that tightrope, it feels partly stupid, and unlike some adventure junkie, I'm not feeling motivated by the "thrill". It was something asked of me from my guides, advised from Spirit, and ultimately something I knew I needed to embrace to shed...

More than half the year is over, and so much of myself has been Open, so incredibly open that at times it felt so out of body, because of how much I allowed to flow. I would love to say that I feel lighter, more liberated, and while I know that will come, I'm feeling those old surges of terror, of feeling the exposure like fire to my skin. It's not that I'm ignoring the pain, I realize that the pain is partly an excuse, it's the distraction to convince myself to shut down and retreat, and so I safely push beyond the boundaries of my own core, and I do partly feel stronger for it, but this week I feel scared... I want so desperately to retreat, so desperately to vanish and become the invincible self I once was... Others will share the advice "go within, be gentle with yourself", as I have muttered those same words to others, as well as to myself, before. However, sometimes the obviously stated can be unproductive.

My cave calls, like a sordid lover, and I'm enticed and aroused by its manipulation tactics. Do I follow the familiar scent? Do I expose the cave for what it really is: a brothel of illusions? Or do I tear it down and reveal the more functional entrance?

I watched this documentary a few months ago that left me pretty rattled... a seemingly simple question became an exposé into my mind, and I paired it up with the Vulnerability and took off in flight. This author began to speak about the differences between Guilt and Shame: Guilt being about a moment of action -- "I feel bad ..." while Shame was "I AM bad..." and my breath caught, so quickly and so painfully like barbed wire, and I realized I had to seriously look at myself in the triggered role of Shame... I used to say that I rarely attuned or even fully understood the energy of "guilt", not because I was heartless or that I haven't done things in my life that I am not pleased with, but the general energy of it felt rather foreign to me... not shame... no no... shame and I became fast friends... perhaps shame became that sordid lover calling me from the cave...

I understood where the shame came from, and this year has been a release and healing of much of what I have held onto.

I have been very open this year about my past -- of what led me to the Goddess, my (several) attempts at suicide, the darkness of my depression and the skillful mask worn to protect that illusion from others. People in my life now didn't know me then. They didn't see how I was, how lonely, how scared, how broken I became... they didn't see me in my darkest moments, only one person has ever seen that, only one. To many of them, I'm a beacon of Light, and I so willingly share it. But the Darkness and the Shadow, it's easier for me to dive into that realm, more so than the realm of Light at times (or so it feels)... similar to Marianne Williamson's quote, "It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us."

I didn't want to necessarily share these stories, yet I trusted my guides' direction in the necessity of it. I see now, outside of the direct emotion of it, how it became beneficial, to me in the (partial) release, and to others who have held their darkness so close and secret. Christopher commented earlier this year that I was the true definition of what magick could do, how it could heal. While he knew me most of that time frame, he has never seen me in the deepest of that darkness, but he is one of the very few (less than a handful) that knows everything of that time and space, and he knows just how much I've had to do, how much I've had to trust and release and just dive in to get to that other side... however, he also knew that bringing up the accomplishment is still something I shy away from integrating.

After this weekend I had some time to sit quietly, and I felt the familiar flashes that arise when I feel like people have gotten too close; when so much of myself has been easily shared... it's a defense, I recognize that, it's the Shadow Dance doing its thing, and while I've amazed myself this year in the open rawness, I can't help but feel almost judged... no, that's not the right word... my Inner Self says the fear is more attributed to the understanding that this is just not something many facilitators do -- they don't open their closets and allow their skeletons to be revealed -- so why the hell am I doing it? Others will see, judge (discern), question... they'll know... and yet, there's this understanding that by embracing the lessons of Shame and healing them, well, my shame becomes no one's weapon, instead it's a tool.

I'm uncertain what this short period of fear-driven retrieval is asking of me... and yet even as I say it to myself I realize that's not entirely true. Much like what was shared with me last week in meditation -- I heard ever-so-clearly: "You don't have to hold onto that Darkness anymore... You can let it go..."

That's where I am at: coming to terms with the reality that who I was is a chapter of who I am, and that I don't have to embrace the illusion of a (now) false reality to continue my evolution. That Darkness isn't my definition, though I have allowed it to define me over these years. Who am I without it? The same person I am with it... it's literally that simple, yet my mind wishes to make it that much more complicated. I'm working on unraveling the complications, the ironed-out illusions that seem so perfectly fitted in this dreamscape that I'm confusing it for actualized reality.

The fascinating piece of it all is that it's all movement -- none of this has become stagnant once this year... I accept that accomplishment.

)0(

The Season of Spider - Vulnerability

2011-06-24T19:15:00.001-04:00

Despite the Wheel turning to seasons and shifting in weather patterns, I sometimes view the seasons in terms of patterns and rhythms. What has it brought in the past? What is it revealing now? Where are the clues to be followed to unveil what's to come? This season has been mixed in emotion, jumbled even, not quite fragmented, but not entirely visible to the naked eye. It has been both bright and dull, both seen and unseen, and, as I reflect to the actualized theme of what is being presented, what lesson I am to learn, who the Teacher actually is... I'm left, not necessarily awestruck, but sort of like a child who has taken a test and the whole time the answer was written right on the desk.

My season? Spider. Spider has been visiting with such enthusiasm, if I didn't know better, I would assume He would want to move in. I have, forever, shielded the "welcome" mat to Spiders, entirely out of fear, it's often joked about that I can walk into a room and sense a spider within a few seconds of being in their presence, a "Spider Psychic". Not a trait I adore, I assure you, instead my toes curl, the high-pitched squeak of fear trembles through my throat, and I plead, begging someone to remove them from my presence. Being told that they are more afraid of me than I am of them has left me with little comfort. I either become so enthralled by fear that I plead with them to keep their distance, or I become vicious, yelling at them, showing them who is boss, and attempting to rule with power over. An interesting view, no doubt, but in stepping outside of this bizarre sequence of events, I am reminded, beyond the sentient being factor, that there is really no room, no pure love or functional energy in power over. Just one of the powerful lessons brought to me by Spider...

Spider comes to visit when I am not paying attention to the deep crux of my own Creation. S/He comes when I am not embracing the beauty of what is to be birthed. Instead I hold it closely, covered under bundles of blankets, maybe even store it in a box, because, as I've come to realize in this "seasonal" aspect -- I am afraid to be vulnerable.

I walk this interesting path of being student and teacher, facilitator and client, healer and one being healed, and I've somehow always remained, to some degree, as vulnerable as I can, as appropriate as it needs to be. I really do believe in this aspect that if I am asking my own students or my own clients to be open to possibilities, to be open to healing, to be open to their natural awareness, then, obviously, I must be too. But I feel it goes beyond that, to some degree. It's not about airing out my fear, my trauma, my dysfunctional (or even functional) shadow self. But I'm there, walking the same road, a very similar path, in fear, in darkness, and even in denial at times. It's a tender thread of expressing that vulnerability and holding it sacred... or secret.

As Spider presented Itself, the variety of sizes were dramatic. He always begins small, a sort of reminder that I need to pay attention to the work, to the art, to the overall development of the Matrix of Creation... and yet, because of the Messenger, and the self-imposed crippling fear that comes with His presence, I sometimes don't listen as clearly as I would or could if it were, perhaps, Bear, coming to share the very same lesson.

And so, I don't listen. Not as clearly, not as concisely. And Spider arrives again... generally much bigger, as though to say "You can't ignore me now, I am here and you must listen"... and so I negotiate. Poorly, but I negotiate. If He keeps His distance, I will do the "work" requested of me. He's smart, though. He knows I will say and do anything to be out of this fear, out of this massive discomfort plaguing me, and then I will drift a bit. It's a common theme, it's been a dance we've partnered in for several years.

Yes, years. Sometimes I am slow/stubborn to the point of ridiculous. However, that is a story for another time...

Beyond the other messages Spider shared with me, things that need to be done, areas needing to be disciplined, thoughts that need to be shared, etc, I floated back to the aspect of Vulnerability. I'm told, some rather contradictory things, that I am open book to all, and yet I am a complete mystery. Either way, when faced with the energy of being vulnerable, there's a degree to which it scares me a little. That openness, that release of confinement, the ability to let go of the bounds of crippling fear, to attune to the spiritual essence of vulnerability, it is another phase my Guides are guiding me towards.

Chogyam Trungpa said "True fearlessness is not the reduction of fear; but going beyond fear." I recognize going beyond fear also sways with allowing oneself to be vulnerable. And so I dip my feet, ever so slowly, in that realm, where it's not about fear or even fearlessness, it is simply about this moment, this authentic breath that means I just allow. Though allowing means flowing, it means letting be, letting go, letting Self stand in the center of Truth, completely neutral to judgment. It's an expansion of what I'm viewing the "traditional" definition of vulnerability to mean.

If I'm vulnerable, what does that look like? Authenticity. It's me beyond the labels, beyond the titles, beyond the various hats worn, it's just M.E. = My Experience.

For a moment My Experience this past weekend had me wanting to retreat in that quiet cavern after being so "exposed". I don't consider myself social or outgoing in the least, and yet part of My Self projects that image, that reality, and so it becomes, in essence, part of my story, because I've agreed to the layout of the puzzle. While this has become easier over the years, and I'm less panicked and confined by the social anxiety that once felt so thick and heavy, it became a balance of honoring those (often) tiny aspects of fear to allowing myself to be open in allowing my core to show (Spirit says "shine", so I feel the need to acknowledge that).

Spider's web spins, Its spiritual venom has penetrated into my etheric body, and while everything, in the end, boils down to choice, I know, ultimately, shying away and cloistering the wisdom I have to share isn't an option -- not from a spiritual, truthful perspective. And even that acknowledgement, in this very moment of vulnerability that sits on the surface of my skin, of my self-claim of wisdom-filled Self, it's sort of this freaking out moment, of "what are you acknowledging... and why aren't you integrating it even further?"... Good question. Plentiful answers, the spinning begins again, and I weave, through, above, within, without...

I need to BE the Spider... that's what I have been cowardly avoiding all of these years. I say that, honestly, without the judgment that it seems to film it -- I have no attachment to that word, "coward", in the way it's so shamefully used. Then again, my language has always felt rather unique to me.

Where shall I go with this? Simple acknowledgment. That's where it begins. Yes, I'm scared. Yes, allowing others in is both terrifying and beautiful. Yes, I do think that even when we are our most authentic selves and allow those parts of ourselves that are so hidden to be exposed that we are opening ourselves up, at times, to pain. It's the Web. It spins, it's beautiful, it's intricate, it's artistic, complex, and yet has this simplicity to it, of just being there in an instant, or so it seems. But, much like the beauty of the web, it's fragile. It breaks, it tears, it's forgotten about...

It's forgotten about... my internal trigger went off there. And that next layer of vulnerability reveals itself to me: I am afraid of being forgotten. I worked hard as a child to not be seen. I carried that into my teen years, and even into my early adult years. I wouldn't even allow myself to be heard, let alone seen. And yet, I desperately wanted to be seen, to be heard, to have more than just this voice that spoke words, but have a voice that shared meaning. I wanted to be seen as me, without comparison, without agenda... I can feel the comparison to the web, to its simple yet intricate nature, to being there one moment, gone the next, to being beautiful and then... not. Becoming something, then becoming nothing. My vulnerability reveals the fear of becoming nothing eventually. Our layers of selves will evolve, but it's that in-between evolution that I'm not quite articulating well. Like the bardo of the mind -- the mind not shared, but the mind playing like the record keeper, for the duty of the Self to replay and record.

I continue to dig through the files of my records, sometimes needing to listen to those old tapes, just to understand more of where the healing needs to begin, and other times, like those filled with cobwebs, just letting it go, telling myself that under this web it is unnecessary to dig, because it's become hidden, cocooned almost, because it's not a gem that needs dusting off. Or maybe I'm a poor treasure hunter, finding contentment in what is here versus what is there.

My sense is that this Season of Spider isn't a short one... and coming to terms with both my fear of His physical presence and being open to His spiritual presence and integrating His medicine is my next and current lesson...

)0(

Coming Undone - "Washing the Rice"...

2011-04-29T01:01:00.001-04:00

During the time span of being sick for over two weeks, and really sitting with the emotional (and psychological) aspects that came up from a diagnosis with Bell's Palsy that had me feeling far different than the image being reflected to me in the mirror, I knew the overall message was to rest, and why I chose not to listen before it came to the rollercoaster that was delivered isn't entirely revealed to me, yet.

The (acknowledgement) of the cold came first. A minor but stubborn, foggy head and germs invaded my system, leaving me feeling strange and emotional, as my colds tend to leave me, but the numbness and partial facial paralysis was something I couldn't prepare myself for. To feel yourself change while everyone around you sees nothing different reminds me of my days out of high school, following the call of the Goddess more deeply and sensing that my overall being was entirely different, yet I remained looking the same to others who knew me well -- or so it would seem.

I felt different, I felt numb... and I panicked. I have spent about half of my life dancing the shadow dance, mostly leading on the dance floor, other times allowing my dance partner to rule, stomping on my toes, belittling my efforts, and convincing me that my efforts were worthless -- the dance of depression that is often felt and very seldom seen -- granted this is one of those dysfunctional aspects of the shadow when not partnered in love, and I have been revisiting those memories for a couple of months now.

Last month I did some healing work with a dear friend, leading me to the center of pain that had been buried, left behind and waiting to be discovered, and what has transpired since that healing has been nothing short of amazing and fucking ridiculous... I can't help but laugh at how the Universe presents these gifts, and how we either rip off the wrapping paper with eager desire or we carefully (frightfully) peel away the tape, ever so slowly, unsure of what comes next, perhaps wondering if the package itself is going to be the best part of all.

My gift came in the form of a cold shared by a stranger I met for a few short minutes, though her spirit must have sensed that my spirit self was asking for a retreat -- a time to simply let my guard down and go within, but not too far, no, not too far, but just enough to examine myself from this newly healed persona.

The gift was wrapped in the form of a Bell... and I felt distorted. Mutant even. I didn't want to be seen nor touched. Dramatic when the reality is that my condition was extremely mild and hardly noticeable at all, but then again, what we feel is far different than what we appear to be. I felt different, and I didn't like how it felt. I didn't like how it controlled me, and I loathed how much control I gave it.

In my dance with depression I have always come out victorious. My friend had said how impressed he was with me, how far I have come, how I am the definition of what magick can really do for someone. Perhaps. There was this ping in my body of discomfort in having heard this out loud. He had even said that he felt that I needed to hear it, that I needed to be told how much I have accomplished, and I realized that "ping" was there to remind me that I am still working on that layer of compliments that my inner child so rarely received.

In a moment of panic, before the diagnosis, before going to the ER to find out what, exactly, was wrong, I looked at Drac with pained eyes, complete vulnerability permeating the room, and I was able to say, for the first time out loud, "I'm scared that now that I have made the conscious choice to live that that choice will be taken away from me..."

Even relaying it in my mind is painful... it's sad... sad for that little girl 16 years ago who felt the only option was trying to end her life... sad that she hid, so buried, so frightened, so abandoned and so alone, in her own darkness, housed by two beings separated, and it took 16 more years to come to a place where she could be peacefully integrated... and upon her integration she became frightened all over again, that her life would be changed in ways she couldn't control.

Our minds can be rather dramatic, but the drama unfolds into action, hopefully, that inspires change... transformation. I gave power back to a voice that was silent for too long. I can't say that it doesn't still scare me to some degree, but I'm not as squeamish as I was before.

And so, in that time of Bell's and sickness, I sat... I sat under my favorite blanket and just... sat. I pulled out my journal and wrote, not much, my thoughts felt they needed to be more internal than stretching themselves onto paper, which journaling tends to be my normal approach to almost anything.

I needed quiet. I needed to keep my hands busy, distracted, so my mind could just focus on one thread to the next. Somehow my mind convinced me it would be a good idea to go through my stash of yarn and unravel all the skeins to form into solid balls... and so I began, one skein at a time, taking small ones at first, then larger ones, unraveling each and just rolling them up. It went by faster than I anticipated, and it was calming. My hands were busy, my mind was relaxed, there was nothing to do but simply ravel this yarn up. That's it. How permissive!

I saved one particular skein for last. I purposely saved it for last. I bought this amazing sock yarn last year while vacationing in the mountains. The womyn at the yarn store happily spun all the yarn into tidy balls for me, except this particular one in which the machine she was using was having problems. I told her not to worry, and she switched out the yarn for a newer one to make the process easier for me. I came home, put it away and told myself I would get to it later.

This was later. I had done them all, I wasn't feeling well, I needed a distraction, I didn't want to do anything but just complete this (which, for a Capricorn, is a big deal, since we are masters of beginnings but fall prey to the art of completion at times)... and so I began unraveling this orange and green yarn. I felt excited to think when it would be done I could eventually start up a new project, asking myself why I put it off for so long... then, in a moment (because everything really is but a simple moment), the yarn tangled.

And I mean t-a-n-g-l-e-d. And it tangled some more. And some more. I had somehow managed to make such a mess of this yarn that it was nothing but knots and tangles and a complete and utter disaster of fiber. Those little people that sit on your shoulders began to guide me on what I should and shouldn't do... "Trash it... it's not worth your time" the rebel said... "Stick with it, you'll feel so proud once it's done and you've completed it" the idealistic one said...

I came back to this documentary I had watched a couple of months ago, "How To Cook Your Life", and this one line the Zen Master had said about washing rice -- how when you're washing the rice "wash the rice" -- and it has become a mantra of mine since then, to remind me to be in the moment of everything, in full awareness, whatever I am doing I am "washing the rice". It has since become an inside joke with my spiritual mother who will often hear me recite this line when I know I need to really be with something.

Wash the rice.

So, I told myself, while all of this was going on, that I wasn't going to be distracted, that I wasn't going to be angry about this mess that was in front of me, but that I was going to take a spiritual approach to this unraveling and just "wash the rice".

I began to look at it as a metaphor of my life -- in looking at this mess, how will I handle it -- how do I handle messes that occur in my life now? Do I accept the anger and become fueled by it (which has its benefit when the anger isn't destructive), or do I embrace compassion, for myself and the situation, and work to heal? So I began to unravel, ever so slowly, and the first day saw little results. I wasn't discouraged. I told myself that tomorrow it would be complete. Hours into the second day the anger started to bubble. Drac had come up to me and asked how it was going and I just muttered through gritted teeth, "I'm washing the fucking RICE!!!"... and he laughed. We laughed. How insane I must have looked!

By the third day, with two balls forming on either end -- one neatly rolled together, the other done messily, knowing it wouldn't be permanent because I consciously wanted it to be neat -- something shifted. This no longer became a tangled mess of yarn... it shifted into a healing session. This was a healing of the moment, a past life regression, a glimpse into the future, all rolled (no pun intended) into one. Life was mirrored by the knots. Sometimes tight, sometimes loosely formed, other times tangled into other threads, with an uncertainty as to where it began, where it would end, if it would ever end -- much like depression: when you are in it, you can't see beyond the scope of the pain. You are in the moment with it to a degree, but you are also wrapped up into the pain of before, and in looking at the overall picture all you can see is the pain that will continue. You can't see it ending, because it looks too tangled to ever end.

Each roll of the ball, going over and under, untying, pulling and tangling some of it up even further... it all had this synchronicity to it. It was entirely synchronous.

I can't relay everything that happened as a result of this one skein of yarn, how the threads unraveled easily when I stopped looking at the overall skein but instead looked at what was in my hand in front of my eyes at that very moment... I was washing the rice. I can't begin to explain how life, my life, human life, spiritual life, became clear to me as a result of unraveling yarn. I can't explain how the one side of "perfection" that was neatly rolled ended up being the much smaller ball, and how the "imperfect" one became the one twice its size... or how I consciously chose to unravel that larger one to morph it newly fixed into the new one; thoughtfully, slowly, expressively... I can't explain how when it was over there was both an excitement of completion with having done it in mindful pleasure, or the sadness that enveloped my moist eyes because it was complete... life lessons were learned and immense healing was birthed from these simple fibers that became a metaphor for life.

What will become of this fiber? My spiritual mother suggested a creation that could be passed down with the stories and lessons learned and gained from this experience... something to share with my daughter, full of the mysteries of life and of wombynhood... and upon this suggestion I heard Spirit whisper that it should be an altar cloth... and so it will eventually be.

Two weeks later my cold has left my system, my Bell's is nearly released, and the yarn awaits new creation. I have been reminded to celebrate the artist in each of us, including that which painted this place and time for me to embrace illness and heal through/with it. New dance steps were learned, with vital messages of Being without justification.

In the end, "washing the rice" became the best medicine.

)0(

Pausing through March

2011-04-07T18:08:00.000-04:00

"Letting go means
letting come and go, letting be.
Letting go means
opening to the wisdom of allowing.
This is nonattachment." -- Lama Surya Das

That one quote, aside from making me catch my breath just a little bit in truth and awareness, pretty much sums up the month of March for me: letting go.

It was letting go in both its small and large forms, some of which meant simply letting go of time -- I didn't open my datebook once during that month, didn't look at my calendar on the wall once (actually forgot it even existed!), I didn't plan for anything. Unusual, yes, and completely out of character. I hardly live in the calendar montage, but I am quite cognizant of linear time when I am fully here, and yet even in Spirit there is that awareness, because I'm here, my contract is here, and so Here maintains a level of responsibility that I must facilitate and abide by, per "contract" rules, after all.

March has, in the past, been a month of tremendous transition and pain. Generally coming off of frequent visits in the land of desperation ("depression") in February, March begins a purge -- suitable for Ostara and birthing and rebirthing of the Earth -- in year's past I have found myself on the surface of a volcanic eruption. It's the one time of year where my inner bitch roars, though not harming those around me, but letting an implosion stir before an eruption around my environment begins, and I'm feisty. Not pleasant, not sassy, just miserable, feeling my skin crawl, feeling the inside needing to purge -- I have spent 3-4 years in March in the emergency room with the most random virus that can only be manifested by my Higher Self to sit down and shut the fuck up. After these years of painful hospital visits I made the conscious choice that I could purge without needing to be poked and prodded with needles or the violent bile that burns through my stomach... and so it just stopped. Imagine that: conscious decisions manifesting change... insert universal giggle here!

From there I decided to rewind a bit. What was going on in March that had me so ill every year? What happened in February that would make me go so within my cave and my depression that I would need to, for lack of a better word, lash out? When it was figured out, it was just gone -- it was as though it merely needed to be understood, like a complicated math equation, and once it was discovered it didn't have the same meaning, certainly not of the same intensity as it once had, and so it could be what it needed to be: part of the process.

This year I decided everything could be put on hold. It's not to say that I didn't keep up with important meetings or classes or whatever else was actually in the datebook that was never opened, because I did, but most everything else was just put on a shelf, left to be viewed peripherally, but not actually touched. It was freeing. It was necessary. I had more pressing, internal matters to tend to. A healing and purging were rising to the surface, and I gave myself permission to process through it with ease.

I went back to the quote, my theme for March, and I just allowed. Old wounds resurfaced and I didn't panic. I didn't tear, I didn't hide, I wasn't afraid. It was there, it came, it went, it was very much like the waves of the ocean, and in the end those waves became a catalyst for my healing.

It's not to say that I'm not still clinging. I am. I'm clinging to one major piece, one piece that isn't necessary to carry anymore. However, it's not something I'm stripping away in a moment. It's a mindful process of conscious release... release and letting go, not "getting rid of". This healing gave me more clarity on this clinging piece.

I had a soul healing from a trusted friend and teacher recently, one who knows as much about my past traumas as less than a handful of other trusted individuals, even the deepest shame I sometimes am unable to share with others, yet it becomes more pressing as time continues, and as my own work develops and redevelops, that this one piece of "shame" must be shared (though not today).

The session was great. Powerful. Healing. Scary. I vocalized on more than on occasion that the drive over was met with fear. It wasn't paralyzing fear, just heart-racing "what will happen next" kind of fear. It wouldn't stop me, and I refused to allow it to (and told my friend as such -- that even if I say "I'm scared" that I just needed a good arse-kicking, and this friend was willing to do so!).

My world has been different since then. Clearer. My sense of awareness is so much more crisper than it had been. Even the way I receive messages now has shifted. Everything is... my inner voice says "easy", and yet I feel the need to clarify that "easy" is not how we interpret "easy" to be... it's just easy. It's simple, it's profound, it's gentle but powerful. Why? Because it is -- because I've let it... in this format I have opened to the wisdom of allowing and attuned with nonattachment.

I have been looking within and processing, but I have been also looking at the scope around my perimeter. What do others need? What can I offer? What is ego's role (from its functionality) and when does it stand back (away from its dysfunction) and become pure? My layers of understanding my role In Service feels like it has shifted. In visually looking at it, it was once even, like standing on a skateboard (which is a terribly analogy for me since I can barely walk and chew gum without my clumsy nature running amok!), just even, perhaps gliding from side to side, but the foundation being even. Now the foundation has shifted... it has tilted, which in our society would make one think that it's "off-balance", however this isn't the case at all. The image, in my case, of that balanced skateboard was true in form for that moment, for that time I built the foundation -- it was balance then because I believed it to be in balance, just like now I believe this appearance of the tilted foundation is balance, because I label it as true, but it's just an image, something for the brain to wrap its mind around, to somehow give meaning and to make sense of what it is that I'm trying to do, or aim for. In the end the image doesn't matter. It's just an image. It's no-thing.

In the mix of not being online for most of March and stepping back from most cyber connections, I let myself be in that place of doing no-thing and enjoying it. Things got done, yes, but time wasn't wasted. I admit I spent most of the month submerged in reruns of "21 Jump Street" (I'm currently near the end of season three!)... a program I used to watch as a kid, it was more entertaining than reading about what others were (or weren't) doing on FB... plus it was fun to remember the monster crush I had on Johnny Depp then as a kid! Tiger Beat photos of him on my wall? That's right!

I needed something fun as I processed through what my power animals were sharing, what Purpose was driving into me, and because, frankly, watching Johnny Depp was sometimes more fun than swimming in the ocean. We tell ourselves we can't do this because of that, and we shouldn't do that because of this... I maintained the structure of responsibility and stripped away the "shoulds" and the "have-tos" and allowed myself to do, literally, whatever I wanted to, without any notion of guilt or feeling like I was "supposed" to be doing something... in that moment I was supposed to be adoring Tom Hanson, that's it ;)

In that time I had also been thinking of another one of Lama Surya's quotes: "Killing time is deadening ourselves." It made me shift my mentality that every thing I do, from chores to work to parenting to pure silliness, was done with conscious choice and with a release of external (and internal) judgment of how it was supposed to be. I'm not killing time. I'm consciously choosing this aspect in this moment.

I have been told that it's time to gear up for busy Service, to reformulate a plan that was, essentially, already in the works, but not so far into it that it can't be restructured. In the meantime, this weekend begins a stir of BUSY for some time to come. There is so much necessity in the air, I'm not sure where my foot will land first, but I know it's ultimately at the base of the labyrinth...

)0(

Bare bones -- returning to Self

2011-02-18T15:23:00.000-05:00

In my slow digestion of Pema Chodron's "When Things Fall Apart", I find myself coming across her wisdom in moments that I really need to receive it, though sometimes met with apprehension, it's an invitation to go deeper, even if my inner self is, sometimes, in denial about what it may find.

I have been contemplating this one passage, this one chapter really, that she speaks about Hopelessness...

"For those who want something to hold on to, life is even more inconvenient. From this point of view, theism is an addiction. We are addicted to hope -- hope that the doubt and mystery will go away. ... As long as we are addicted to hope, we feel that we can tone our experience down or liven it up or change it somehow, and we continue to suffer a lot."

Upon reading this passage it immediately triggered me. Denial, sure, anger, indeed, but a sadness of truth that I hadn't expected. Addicted to hope? Really? When something is wrong, when we're in pain, don't we try to lift ourselves up, even those around us, with notions that there is hope, that there is something better, something that will change this moment from "bad" to "good"? I sensed that my denial and anger over this notion was because I realized that it wasn't so much that I didn't believe this passage, but that I was shocked to see how I have been clinging to hope.

She speaks about the first Noble Truth, and how when we're suffering it doesn't mean that there is something, actually, wrong. A wild notion: suffering does not equate with something being wrong. I suppose this is where our judgment comes into play.

"Hope and fear come from feeling that we lack something; they come from a sense of poverty. We can't simply relax with ourselves. We hold on to hope, and hope robs us of the present moment."

Hope robs us of the present moment. I literally had to put the book down when I read this. In my own clinging to hope, I've become addicted to standing outside of myself, disconnected and numb, all so whatever suffering I was experience would go away. Though it's clear that if it's not processed through it never simply "goes away", it simply builds, and returns, and oftentimes we are overwhelmed by this pain... and we return to hope.

This reminds me of days and weeks (and months and years!) of training with Kamala about the Four Forces, about language, about how each word has its own meaning, sure, but there is both a functional and discordant energy that surrounds each word. In thinking of "hope", it's, naturally, a good word, right? What's so 'wrong' with hope? That's the problem. Thinking of it in terms of "right" and "wrong". It's a word. It's an action. It's a feeling. It is... neutral. It's powerful because we give power to it. So when she speaks about the renunciation of hope, it's not that attaining "hopelessness" is bad, it's simply a return to form, a return to the bare bones, to the beginning of the beginning, without escapism...

I've sat with this notion of hopelessness for about a month now -- seeing my role in the past of sharing that addiction with others. Sure, I've held space for someone's suffering and trauma, but somewhere in that space there is this leakage of hope, of attaching the cord of clinging thoughts to someone else, so they, in turn, can feed the addiction, numb themselves instead of being present, I mean FULLY present in their bones, and then spreading it to someone else.

I like hope. I love hope. I cling to it. I nurture it. It nurtures me. This isn't about the negating aspects of creating a world full of hopelessness -- it's about me understanding my addiction, my clinging, to something outside of myself when suffering comes. It's about an awakening into myself that hope, in its pure form, is great, but when I use it to not feel what I am experiencing, even for a moment, then it's pure illusion. I've spent enough time in that reality...

My spiritual mother and I have been digesting these aspects together. It never surprises me that when I am processing through something, she is also processing through something very similar. Here we were just the other day, a couple of hours into a conversation on the phone about hopelessness, addiction, honoring form... and we hit the same road block: in Buddhism we're taught about non-clinging, about getting to the core of being nothing (no-thing), and yet in Paganism we're embracing that we are all One in the Universe -- we are everything; we're the cup, we're the trees, we're the wind, we're the trash, we're everything... so we're centered in this reality of being nothing and everything, all in one, without hope... needless to say we had a good laugh...

The clinging, the attachment, coming back to Chodron's quote about how life is more inconvenient when we have things we are holding on to. I awakened to something important in my pattern of life: when in the darkness of my depression (which visited me last month for a few weeks) I am without hope. I am in the dark, I am in the suffering, and I am in the pain. I don't cling to hope (generally) to escape it, I spend much of the beginning portions sitting in it, returning to the bare bones, and yet when I see that thread of light, I jump to it, cling as though it's the last breath I'll ever take, and the work of returning to Self has vanished in place of numbness and fear... fear that I will allow myself to be swallowed in the shadows, fear that I have always been in the shadows, and this, the Light, is the true illusion. We tell ourselves stories when we're in pain. Sometimes I'm a better storyteller when suffering that when in the light... a complete judgment, and others may not agree with that statement, yet this is the character that chooses that truth in that moment.

Hopeful... hopeless... I sense that all I need right now is to burn some white sage and be in the center of my bare bones, returning to Self...

)0(

In a "year"... in a decade...

2010-12-31T17:26:00.000-05:00

It's been a week of reflecting -- a week of peeling away the layers to reveal old memories. This hasn't felt like a "year", it's been tremendously longer than that. The days appear to go by faster the older you get, and yet, when you look at the end of the year and see the 12 months behind you, it doesn't feel so fast after all. At least not to me, not this year, not in a year where I was cradling the pain and needing to step outside of the shadow to see the actual light. It was brighter than I remembered, and while my eyes didn't burn from the impact, tears still fell... in a year of building so many relationships, and needing to say goodbye to others, how is it that at the end of the year I feel as though I am always meant to face the final dark alone?

It's the Cave. It calls to me, even now, even as the words flow (at a fragmented pace), that retreating to the Cave is what I would normally be doing this time of year. I go within, retreat, and I emerge later, not necessarily anew, sometimes merely skeptical that anything has changed, but generally more aware, in some capacity, and then upon realizing that it isn't a retreat after all, I understand more that it has become an escape. I consciously choose to escape come the winter months. Hibernation is what my Totem embraces, but there's hibernating out of nature and there's hibernating out of fear/discomfort. I recognize it clearly this year... again, how bright that light is...

I don't think that I have fully processed Joe's death. It's eating at me... the sudden loss... my heart is pained, terribly pained... I'm thinking how tonight I won't get one of his texts to wish me a happy new year, to say he loves me... I won't hear from him in that way anymore, and it hurts, terribly. He was the one who knew me, who accepted me as beautiful before I recognized my own beauty; he was protective of me, and he valued the light he felt I so easily shared with others, even when I thought it wasn't shining at all. He's the person I'm thinking about this New Year's Eve...

The other side to that pain is awareness. This year brought so much of that. The child-like innocence felt stronger, unwilling to crumble from the pain, which I'm quite grateful for, but the realization that trust isn't something that is sacredly honored was a challenging lesson to be presented with. I haven't quite finished learning it -- and I never want to be one of those jaded people who feels burned by relationships, nor do I want to ice the pain and become numb, but I just want to continue on with the teachings of compassion and loving-kindness, and hope that in my lifetime I can achieve that essence of enlightenment so many of us quest for.

It has, however, slipped my memory that not only are we putting a calendar year to bed, we are also saying farewell to a decade. A decade, really? Sometimes blinking fast forwards your vision, but a decade seems much longer than it actually sounds, and this decade could have been doubled with the many many changes that were afoot.

It's hard to imagine that this decade saw the shift from Maiden to Mother... I went from questioning my purpose to embracing it... I went from an extremely shy and awkward womyn to one that feels able to fully breathe in her skin, without reservation... let us not forget the shift from student to teacher -- that was a journey of facing fears of inadequacies and having only one option stare you in the face to either move forward or stay back... the backwards road was met with bumps and bruises, though it doesn't help that I am extremely clumsy, but if not for those bruises I wouldn't have realized how much that pain and discomfort was both necessary and unnecessary... or maybe I would have... lessons come as they come, I've learned to let go of the need to decipher its every meaning and just be still and listen for a moment.

Next year is the year of the Teacher for me. It's the time where I put forth that which has been planted... I feel ready for what's ahead. This year has challenged me in those ways, to "prepare" me (as much as one can) in various areas of my life. The student hat seems to always be there, and this coming year will be no different. I'm embarking on another year of the Margha Program, having not completed it to my standards, I'm ready to begin anew with that. The last two years of Buddhism training has been met with death -- it has challenged me deeply to remain centered in compassion, despite the flight syndrome that floats to the surface. Jonathan's death occurred while I was away at retreat... Abuela died during the months where I was getting to the core of the practice, having just spoken with Lama Willa about her dying and the exercise in which she shared with me was more profound than I can say... Joe's death was a culmination of going within and being in complete denial. It was hard to be "on the cushion" with anything then, and I didn't meet my own standards of practice, but I held the core of the training deep. This coming year the focus will be Open Awareness. Quite timely really.

For now, I remain quiet. I yearn for the quiet. It has been slightly noisy the past few days in my mind. Cluttered, too many thoughts, I care not for the distractions, but just want to be still... like the breath, which are slow and shallow, the introspective breath. Here's to a year of breathing deeply, mindfully, and heart-centered. While aspects of me feel exposed, the raw edges feeling rather rough from close proximity to things that may not serve, but I wasn't aware until leaning up against them. I don't want to retreat to the Cave for anything other than renewal. In the end it's always choice. Tonight, while everyone is out partying and drinking the night away, I crave solitude, to truly reflect. Not because it's New Year's Eve, but because it just feels necessary. The ground is frozen, though the Sun's warm rays have melted everything a bit today, but there's something quite serene about being still. Just still.

"Reinvent" is playing over and over again in my mind. My iPod shuffled through it four times in less than an hour the other day. In fact, it's been shuffling through it a lot. There are two lines that grab me tonight:

"And I know that time
Brings change to everything" ...

"And maybe this is wrong
And I should leave well enough alone
Or maybe it's right
And today starts
For the rest of my life..."

Tonight it doesn't feel "wrong" or "right", it doesn't even feel "wanted" or "unwanted". It just feels... still. It's like a frozen pond... I don't want to step out into it, but I just want to marvel at the beauty surrounding it and just watch and breathe. There's something so beautiful about the stillness...

)0(

The shadow dance

2010-11-28T18:23:00.001-05:00

I am dancing the dance that isn't unfamiliar to me, but the steps are ones that are being taken so gracefully, it's as though I am, indeed, the ballerina to the Shaman's song... the darkness rises, but its an ally, one that has been hidden deep into the shadows, waiting for me to peel away those mucky layers, and now, as though the test (of this level) has been achieved, I am... swimming. The bridge is up, the water is clear, and I am swimming in the ocean of mysteries... I laugh to think where the road takes you, where you, yourself, journey on that road, and how it returns home, in its multi-layers, it's home again... much like Chad's song, the lyrics that have been swimming in my own mind:

"The person I was could go by another name
He's a stranger to me now
Amazing the difference a few years will make
You don't realize you've lost yourself until you turn around
I keep coming back here to this place
Where it's lonely and cold here without you..."

It's funny -- hearing this song again is like a welcome home present. I can remember how often I sat through a live performance, how it became too much, though deeper than that, it hit too close to home, and I wasn't ready to dive in that deeply. It is amazing the difference a few years will make... I don't think that I've lost myself so much as I've reclaimed that which has been hidden. It was never lost, my shadow self became an obsessive hoarder, keeping all parts nearby, just buried. Don't throw away, for fear others will have access to hidden gems you, yourself, aren't ready to acknowledge or even recognize, but instead keep it cloistered away, breathlessly motionless, and come back again, dusting it off, ready to look at it with new eyes...

"I'm sorry for all these things I've passed to you
I remember thinking I was invincible to them all
But they say there are a lot of these things that everybody goes through
And I thought I was different
But I've learned that I'm not..."

This song, these lyrics, beyond some amazing nostalgia they bring for me, it takes me back to that darkness, to that time of deep pain, of deep confusion, of the shadow's battle with what I perceived as being control over, but instead was simply the battle of release, and I wouldn't let it go.

I've been flipping through the pages of the past decade. Seems like a bit to go back on, but it's been necessary. This emotion was closed off because of that... that happened then... then was brought on by this... this was a manifestation of when... when was discouraged and hopeless... that hopelessness was buried in fear... the fear became the controller... the controller willingly allowed itself to be controlled... this crazy, insane maze that goes back back back... back to a particular time? No. I thought it did. I was damn near convinced that I could identify that *one* aspect, that one moment in time, that one turning point... and granted that one turning point held significance, but oddly, it's gone. Well, maybe not gone... maybe it's simply healed, and it hasn't gone anywhere, because its existence was illusionary, and where does the illusionary energy go? No where. For it's no-thing.

I spent this past October free. I can't express it beyond that absolutely simple word, but it's where I was. The shadow self came out, nodding its respectful nod at me for a job well done, and we prepared to dance the dance of the shadow. No one leading, no particular steps to coordinate, just dance. How strange to spend all these years, all this time in a perpetual state of fear, to keep diving into the (seemingly) bottomless ocean of it, and come back up again, shedding the layers, only to realize that, much like the Matrix's reference to there being "no spoon", there was no ocean... and I sit here smirking thinking of the line from "Birdcage" where Agador says, frustrated, "I made it up... I MADE IT UP!"

I made it up.

It doesn't make it any less real, the experience, the emotion, the pain -- no, that was very real. I made it real. But in the span of that busy October month, I wondered to myself daily: where does the story go? When it ends, when you decide to either close the book or decide that the story really isn't worth anything anymore -- where does it go? Does it continue to exist, because we gave it life once and could easily return to it if we chose? Where does it go?

In a deep discussion with my spiritual mother we came to the conclusion that it transforms in the Ether. Beyond that, beyond that discussion of how and where and why, I can't elaborate. It was all spirit-channeled anyway...

The interesting piece... the thing that I haven't been able to say, pretty much ever, the thing that I'm completely in awe about is: I am not scared. That paralyzing fear, the one that has been carried over, building in force because of the power I gave it... it's just... gone. I can't seem to articulate it better than that. I'm starting with a blank canvas, and yet, somehow, I don't, necessarily, have a desire to whip out my paintbrushes and get to work. I like the rawness. I like the reality that I am the storyteller, and the story doesn't need telling right now. The storyteller is preferring the role of the bard and the tastes of the song than the story itself.

This year begins another dance with the shadow into the Shamanic realm. The dance I did in that realm several years ago kicked my ass. Completely. I have such immense gratitude for that ass-kicking. I do. It put fear in my face and the call of the Dark Goddesses came, and I listened. This year is no exception, as another Dark Goddess has come and asked me to do the Great Work with Her. I'm not foolish to think that nothing will come up -- just because that layer of fear feels gone doesn't mean that I won't be addressing other deeply layered fear, or even that same one. The difference is, I just don't feel scared about addressing it. I feel quite ready, in fact. A good friend had said to me "it's because you're not afraid to go there", which sounds like an oxi-moron; being afraid of the fear but being brave (or foolish?) enough to dive in head first. Maybe a little of both.

And, like the song goes:

"Did we learn at all from what we were taught
And after all this time?
This is me now..."

I feel like the learning has intensified. It has taken on a new dimension. After all this time... sounds so funny coming from someone who hardly identifies with linear time.

)0(

Intimacy with fear

2010-10-02T23:20:00.001-04:00

"Fear is a natural reaction to moving closer to the truth." - Pema Chodron

Sometime last year I was in a book store in need of a book. Nothing in particular, but just in "need" of something, which usually leads me to the Buddhism section when I'm unsure of what I want but feeling as though I "need" something. That day I picked up Pema Chodron's "When Things Fall Apart", and it wasn't until a couple of days ago that I finally started reading it. "Heart Advice For Difficult Times" it says on the front cover -- this purchase happened before any of the deaths that would come in the year -- and sat on my bookshelf, collecting dust, but patiently waiting until I recognized the need to pick it up and read it. It has become, mostly, nighttime reading before falling asleep. It goes against my general principle of reading anything too "heavy" before sleeping, yet I felt something significant about carrying these words into the dream state and internalizing the healing there. The very first chapter is on "Intimacy with Fear", and the quote above is the first line shared... I caught my breathe when I read it, and held it... shit.

As someone who practices and teaches about breathwork I knew what it meant to hold the breath, to internalize this fear about fear, and it made me laugh, because it was like the cliched comparison to a game of Monopoly, heading back to "go" but not collecting anything. I sat there, rereading that one line over and over again, and realized how true, this whole time, how true that revelation was, and how silly it was of me to not recognize it sooner. Not a judgmental silly, just a matter of fact silly, as though somehow I was 'supposed' to know this.

We have entered October 1st, and for those who know my "story", my background, the pain and trauma that led me to Now, well, you know this time of year is both beautiful and horrific for me, and that this month in particular holds the balance of both light and dark in its extremes in my life. We're in October -- a month for the past 15 years that has held me hostage to replay the events that terrified me and sealed a layer of fear I thought I would carry with me for life.

15 years ago. I almost can't fathom what that time was like anymore. I haven't forgotten, no, darkness isn't forgotten, it's remembered, and the reality is as the seasons change, so, too, does the memory change. It is a combination of being both better and worse over time, but still there, tender, painful, frightening, and tormenting, if you slip back into the rhythmic pattern it cycles through. Every year is easier, every year more acceptance comes, though somehow last year I really believe I let it go. This year... I realize that I completed a layer of becoming intimate with fear -- if fear is that "natural reaction to moving closer to the truth", then the truth unfolded itself without me needing to prod or pressure it. Hm... who would have thought, simply "being" and "allowing" would actually bring the truth after all... note the sarcasm that pokes me, but it feels like a sense of relief. I can breathe, and I am not that 16 year old girl who was traumatized and later tried killing herself.

I'm not her.

It's an interesting revelation. The thing that has been playing over and over in my mind for over a week now, perhaps in mental preparation for what this month has brought to me in the past, is that I'm not the story.

I am not the story.

It's liberating. I carried this story, the pain, the incident, the characters, the result, the aftermath, the fear... I carried it all in this never-filling Mary Poppins-style backpack as a constant reminder of this pain. It wasn't a story I shared with others, so it never became about "look at what I've been through, pity me"; instead it became a way that my dysfunctional self kept me in the dark. Then it shifted to my inner child clutching onto the "devil you know", completely scared, afraid of, well, everything. I realized that part of the story I told myself was that I wasn't afraid to die, but that I was afraid to live, when the truth wasn't that at all. The truth was that I was afraid of being nothing, of not following my purpose and being a Being that could easily be nothing -- forgotten, unloved, or too loved... we're a species of storytellers...

When I look back I don't think much about that time anymore. It's odd to realize that. To actually see that I have let the story fade. It's there, dusty on the bookshelf for me to read later if I so choose, but it's no longer my story, not in the same way. That story was written by a broken 16 year old girl who never thought she'd live past that week, never mind a decade and a half later to be staring fear in the face, sometimes winning, sometimes scraping my knee and falling down, but never dying.

"The point is not to try to get rid of thoughts, but rather to see their true nature. Thoughts will run us around in circles if we buy into them, but really they are like dream images. They are like an illusion -- not really all that solid. They are, as we say, just thinking."

I spent 15 years "just thinking" instead of "just seeing". It's the fear. Fear says "do this", and like a child being scolded, I did. Then the empowered womyn within says "just be", and so I am, until that undefinable scent pierces the senses, and it's the fear once more, returning, sometimes toxic, other times like a lost little child itself. It presents itself as scary, but instead it just wants to be listened to. Not believed, just understood. I let myself live in the illusion, because the "truth" was that I was scared of what it meant to fulfill a contract I had here. My spiritual mother once told me that my contract was *here*, it was then that I started dancing the dance with fear. Not being controlled by it, not even understanding it fully (yet), but simply being, as I would with anyone, just be.

"Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing. We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don't really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It's just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy."

I'm feeling the layer of this upcoming cycle as truly being healed. I'm not interested in the story anymore. I don't have time for it, I've got too much on my own agenda to be concerned with a pain that I don't hold anymore. I suppose some of it comes with the perspective of death: what really matters?

A friend of mine recently asked me why I haven't healed that part yet -- why I haven't gone back to that time and done soul retrieval for my loss parts? I looked at him, ready with an answer, realizing I had no answer. He stumped me, and I felt the breath collapse once more. I have done healing work for aspects that followed, that were related to that time, the "domino effect" of that incident, but not for that time specifically. Why? I'm still uncovering much of it, though I realize it's partly because I subconsciously was punishing myself for my role -- the role the 'victim' plays in believing it is their fault and what they could have done differently... I never looked at myself like a 'victim' of the situation. Instead I looked at it as a painful lesson. Does that change the mentality? I don't know, maybe.

So while I haven't finished reading the book yet, it's proving to be enlightening thus far, especially as my heart continues to heal from loss, I imagine it will be a similar journey of taking the advice I share with my students and clients when faced with their own pain: be gentle with yourself.

"Getting the knack of catching ourselves, of gently and compassionately catching ourselves, is the path of the warrior."

)0(

The note.

2010-08-20T23:12:00.001-04:00

Whether it can be described as a suicide note or letter or final words, the semantics don't much matter... another person in my life has crossed the veils, and somehow when I think that my heart has accepted too much of the tender moments of loss, it continues to reveal itself, as life's mysteries tend to do. So the Wheel spins, as it always does, and we, those that are left behind, pick up the pieces and find a way to move on... or, we don't.

I don't know where to begin. I don't know how one moment I could go from this pure joy and love in my heart to the next feeling as though it has stopped beating, feeling as though time didn't even bother to stand still, it just broke. It broke in this solid moment where there was no going back or going forward, you were merely in this moment of pure, unfiltered pain... and yet, the pain was numbing. I didn't feel the pain the way I thought I would, in such a similar circumstance being revisited. Instead, I was just there, back on this familiar boat, back to the edge of the river, watching another loved one sail to the Summerland... my, it has been a long year of loss.

A friend of mine today commented that she thought it had been a couple of years. No, just one. Not even. Joe marks the fifth person to leave this incarnation since November. I'm not comparing my loss to anyone else, not comparing the hurt to what others may have experienced... I can recall Joe once telling me that in one year, in August specifically, he lost 8 people. 8 people in *one* month. Still, he never used it as an excuse to shut down. On the contrary, he loved even deeper. As I said last night through trembling words, he was my teacher in love.

I don't think Joe ever quite got over Amy's death. How could he? Best friends who felt more like brother and sister, to watch someone go without the chance to say goodbye, without the chance to tell them how you feel about them, it's terrifying. It brings to the surface how we shouldn't take things for granted, that we shouldn't take people for granted or waste opportunities to tell them just how much we care, just how much they actually mean to us.

I have gratitude that Joe and I never wasted a moment. I have a secure warmth in my heart that he died knowing just how much I loved him, and that's the only solace I have right now in this tragedy. That and knowing that now he's at peace, with Amy, exactly where he wanted to be, back in the loving arms of the Goddess.

I went from the spiritual buzz that came from the Feast of Hecate just hours before. The Feast where I asked a question to Hecate's Maiden aspect that spoke to my purpose... I wasn't yet aware that that purpose was going to be put to the test in a few short hours. I didn't know that the calling would direct me here, again, in a deeper place of service. I just didn't know anything...

I got the text, the one about how he just wanted to say he loved me. I smiled, thought to myself that I will call him in the morning, sitting there chatting with my brother and mother who had come to babysit. 10 seconds it would have taken to respond "I love you too, call me in the morning, I miss you." That's all it would have taken, but I didn't take those 10 seconds, because I thought there would be a 'tomorrow', for the both of us.

I went to bed fairly late despite how blissfully tired I was, and I was woken up by my text going off on my phone, waking me from a beautiful deep sleep. I saw Joe's name and thought "I'm going to kill him" because of the near 3-am text message that had woken me up. He said "Going to visit Amy"... and my exhausted self wondered why he would be making the 4+ hour drive to Orono to visit her grave. "I'll call him in the morning" I said as I fell back to sleep. I just didn't know...

His boyfriend/fiance called me the next morning. Joe had killed himself... precisely 19 minutes after he texted. 19 minutes. That's a fucking lifetime. I know, one can't go back and play the "what if" game, not without pure insanity running amok. No, I can't go back and wonder what would have happened if I texted him back the first time, or if I had been awake just enough to really understand what the full verse of the text meant, if I had read the whole message in its entirety, if I had only called him instead of falling back to sleep... I can't play that "what if" game because I already did. I already went over the questions in my mind, over and over and over again. Replaying scenes, replaying moments, replaying everything. My heart is broken. I miss my friend terribly.

My shock lasted much of Saturday. I didn't know how to feel anything but shocked. It wasn't like when I received the call about Jonathan. Perhaps death had still been fairly knew to me then, because I bawled. I broke down and cried, unable to finish the retreat I was on, barely able to drive home through the downpour that the Earth shared. This time, just numb. I couldn't wrap my head around any of it. He jumped... my mind couldn't understand. Every natural instinct, every defense mechanism that "should" have stopped him didn't. He jumped... and the police were just moments away from stopping him, just seconds. Perhaps time is the biggest mystery of them all...

By Sunday the anger had finally kicked in. I hadn't been angry about the first Joe that died; I wasn't angry over Jonathan's suicide; not angry over Amy's unfortunate death; not even really angry over my grandmother's death... Joe's? I wasn't angry, I was pissed. "How dare he do this to me after he saw what Jonathan's death did to me? HOW DARE HE?!?!"... it felt good to be angry, because it meant I was feeling. It meant that I wasn't completely numb to another loss in my life, in my heart.

I went to visit his mother on Tuesday... Joe had written a suicide letter, and in it he named me, asking that I be the one to handle the details. I had always known this, Joe had always said that he and Amy would talk about how if anything happened to either of them that I was the one to be notified to do the service. Amy's family didn't respect her last wishes, and sadly she didn't have a will made out. She had a service in a church, the very last thing Amy ever wanted.

Still, hearing that your name was in a note and then getting to actually read it are two different mentalities that one can never fully comprehend. It was a copy of the letter, as the original was still under investigation with the police, but still, it was right there, very clear, the second or third sentence in, how he chose me to "make the decisions of when I pass." It was all on me.

I felt honored that he chose me... terrified... sick... angry... scared... it's amazing the variety of emotions one can feel when they're in a split second.

I spent the day going through his magickal supplies, as he was a Witch, too. These sacred items that, in the note as well, was left with instructions that it was to go to his mother first, then me. Me. I don't think I quite comprehended exactly what I meant to him, or just how much he loved me. I don't know if it's because I took it for granted or because there's still that old essence of me that doesn't want to always feel that sort of deep love, from anyone. It's fear-based, as most of my bullshit tends to be, but it's honest.

I got to hold the item he died with... his pentacle. He had 2 on him. A larger one that was in his pocket, and a smaller one in his hand. The one in his hand... that was hard to see, never mind hold. It had bent, from impact of his fall. This strong metal, bent. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to hold it and curl up in a ball and cry, but the well was completely dry. My heart was aching, and despite feeling overwhelmed with thought, I was also, oddly, quite clear.

I could smell him. I could feel him in that pentacle. I wanted so desperately to hold it close to my heart and never let go, but I knew it wasn't mine to keep.

Yesterday was the service. Yesterday I completed the last wish he asked, of both me and his mother, to be sure he got the ceremony he wanted, to be sure that what had happened to Amy didn't happen to him. It was all left to me. I was to Priestess his crossing over, and so I did.

I was composed, I was centered, I was grounded in strength I didn't know I would have in me yesterday. To see all the people who had come, to be in the center of their pain, their tears, their sadness... I thought I would lose it when I saw his body, much like I had when I saw Jonathan's casket. But I didn't. I didn't. I was so focused, I was there to be in service, to bridge the worlds, to guide him to the Summerland, with a room full of his family and friends (as well as a couple of other rooms that had me on video monitor with speakers from the microphone stand in front of me), I was to do ritual.

More than half of the people there didn't believe in Witchcraft. It didn't matter. This was Joe's last wish, and he knew he could count on me to do this for him, irregardless of what everyone else thought. I could feel their pain, sure, but I could also feel many of them biting their tongues in anticipation for a ceremony that went against everything they believed in. It was something they never really understood about Joe.

When it was all said and done, when I had opened the circle, my body began to move out the door while it beckoned my mind to follow. Out to the waiting area we went, and it directed me to the couch, where I sat, and placed my face in my hands, and bawled. My service was done, it was time for me to release, and my heart began to burn, and I realized that I had officiated my friend's goodbye.

I didn't expect the outpouring of love that followed. People there said that they never understood what Joe had practiced, had been scared of Witchcraft, but didn't know it could be so beautiful. They felt connected. Connected to the ritual, connected to me, because I had been connected to Joe in a spiritual avenue that they couldn't understand, because it was in that realm of the unknown that scared them.

They just kept coming, tears in their eyes, hugging me, thanking me, crying in my arms. They felt a sense of closure from what I officiated, and that was incredibly humbling. "You made him proud", they said, and I could feel him full of excitement that he got his final wish. If only I could have officiated something for him for everyone to witness and have the same outcome without the result of us having to let him go... if only, right?

The final aspect of the ritual was for family only, specifically for his mother and for his fiance, as I anointed his body to set his soul free to move to the Summerland... he directed me to this piece, his spirit channeling this final phase in the ritual. And it was then, that I realized, this was my goodbye. I placed my hand over his heart and simply cried. It was an extremely long and emotional day, and today I have simply sat on the couch, journaled, watched tv and read. That's it. I need a couple of days to just come back to... here.

The thing that was just as hard was having all of these people come up to me and know me... people who knew who I was because "Joe talked about you all the time... he loved you dearly..." it was incredible to hear, but it was so difficult as well. When I left I thought to myself how when my time comes I hope that I get at least a quarter of the people there coming to share their stories of how much they loved me... it was a tribute to who he was, someone who was the very best friend you could ask for, someone who hugged in a way that comforted you, not those one-armed bullshit hugs, but true soulful embraces... someone who loved, I mean, truly loved without borders.

As someone said to me last night, it must have been extremely hard to know that in that time he left this note, this note that described the reasons why he was about to do what he did, he took the time to make sure that someone knew to contact me. That the only names he left on that note was his mother and myself... they said it was a tribute of who I was to him... that feels heavy to digest.

All I know is, in this season of harvest, in this season of sacrifice, I see the bigger picture of what his sacrifice meant, to me at least, and how he gifted me something that I won't ever be able to truly thank him for. And, with no surprise, Hecate saw that and shared it as well. Yesterday I saw a deeper layer and understanding to the words In Service, and another puzzle piece was laid down in completion. I'm chanting in the back of my mind: Hecate, Hecate, HECATE!

For now, I am hopeful for a quiet couple of weeks before I retreat to the shores of Maine with the two most important people in my world. I need this time with them, I need this time for me, and while I'm trying not to speed up time, I'm hopeful that its mysteries will be less painful in the weeks to come.

)0(

The familiar door

2010-08-06T16:00:00.002-04:00

I haven't quite processed through the reality that DoveStar will be closing its doors... in precisely a week, actually. A place that has been "home" to so many will cease to exist on this physical plane, ready to have its own death and rebirth, yet those, that are left behind (like any other death), to both celebrate and mourn, are cradling the memories, perhaps in excess, so as not to let go, fully, or to forget. I know that's pretty much what I am doing as well.

I remember, clear as any other memory, of walking through the door in search of learning Reiki. It was there that the infamous words "I only want to learn Reiki, that's it" that emerged from my mouth to be met with laughter by the director who said "yeah, you're going to be a lifer"... though deep down I had known, to some degree, that was true. A lifer I would be, in its process of both good and happy memories to the challenging and deeply difficult ones.

I walked in ready for change, eager for a renewal beyond what I had been experiencing, and what led me there was spirit driven, just as what is closing its doors is, too, driven by spirit.

I went there last week, in hopes of saying my own goodbyes, but realizing I couldn't go into every room, for practical and sentimental reasons; that I couldn't walk the perimeter and watch in slow motion the movie that played in my mind of the many wonderful and difficult moments of my life. It felt too soon, too soon to say goodbye, too soon to watch a place that was home, where I "grew up" become something else.

Yes, the adage that when one door closes, another opens rings true, sure, but for some, like myself, it isn't about what comes next. I don't want to live in a world of "what's next", but rather be in the moment of "what's now"... the door is closing, I want to honor the closing, not brush it aside out of hurt feelings to see what awaits in eagerness to replace an open sore in my heart. I need to feel the loss. It is a loss, like any other loss that I have experienced this year, it is a loss, and it deserves the mourning, but more importantly I need to mourn it.

I was a student there, eager to learn, eager to bring in a different layer to the energetic perspective that my Pagan journey was already on. Little did I know that I would, soon, become an instructor there. Hearing the call of the teacher, yet terrified to actually teach... the fear of what to say to eager eyes and ears that awaited, despite knowing the material, the fear that sat centered in my throat.

My "throat chakra issues" were prominent there. They were safe there to emerge and reveal themselves to be scared and frightened, for others to help hold that space of love and light, free of judgment, so I could purge. And purge I did... on so many occasions, like many before and many after me, to just energetically vomit what no longer served, and yet still be loved for the demons that emerged.

Still be loved.

I was loved there. I learned to love even deeper there. I learned to truly embrace people as divine beings, and I let myself be embraced in return.

I found my voice there... upstairs... in a past life class... I can remember the exact placement of the bed I laid on, the people in the room, the temperature, the way the sun hit the side of the house, the way the tears came roaring out and the space I was given to release them.

I had a voice. I brought it back.

The healings that occurred... physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually... it was continuous. You almost couldn't walk onto the property and not feel it. Even in the parking lot... oh the parking lot... a place that housed many memories as well. The front steps... hours upon hours sitting there, talking, listening, loving, laughing, crying, hurting... these are all physical aspects of a place that we (collectively) immersed our energies into. We branded it ours -- both individually and collectively -- and we shared that with others, to be witness to and to experience their own love and loss as well.

Every room has a memory... from funny moments of spilling tomato sauce on the library rug and the laughter that ensued (though the rug was later, thankfully, replaced, haha), to hard moments of secrets revealed... the Amber room...

Yes, each room has its memories... we all left something there... we all took something from there... it's strange to think that it won't be there, that there won't be this familiar representation of a place that contained our memories. It willingly cradled them for generations, from students to instructors to clients -- it willingly gave of itself to be that container.

I remember tasting "cheese" for the first time -- not physically, and even still I simply can't explain it or due the memory justice in this simple blog. Scraping my ankle and not mouthing a word as I sat with the silence the retreat called upon, though mouthing "ow" like a silent film star. Or to tell the story of meeting a former past life daughter, or, the deeper story of a man who was once a former student/teacher/lover/destroyer from another lifetime... no, my personal journals cradle those memories privately.

Though it had, slowly, stopped being what it was, it was still a place to be, even when the quiet took over, it was still an entity of love.

Saying goodbye is another layer of the journey. Yes, we hold the memories within, yes, it will live on in our hearts, but I'd rather not be so quick about getting to that place. As I said, it's a loss, a loss to those of us who grew so much being there, who shared in the growing process of others -- the amount of heart-felt thanks for my participation in someone's healing process is one that I tenderly carry in my heart with much gratitude. I remember those people who held my hand through my own process, who were there in the late hours to talk, to listen, to hug... being able to give back in that capacity there was a tribute to Kamala's vision. The place simply isn't DoveStar without her. No matter what the differences were, no matter how many times we may have stood on separate sides of the road of the same issue, she loved you unconditionally, and one can't deny what she created was a beautiful masterpiece of connection.

I don't maintain all of those connections in the same way anymore, though I hold them dearly, for they were once a major chapter in my life. This chapter is closing. I know what awaits on the other side, I've seen beyond the door, but I want to enjoy the momentum of beauty that this door held for so long, as well as tend to the sadness of its passing.

There is the common understanding that things "happen in three's"... for this story, this is the third ending. It began with Gryph's death, which had shaken me a bit. It took his death for me to understand what he offered me, and how I allowed myself to be clouded by the judgment of others and didn't fully appreciate it, or him. He was there to create that safe space for my voice retrieval. He did it without agenda... he did it because he recognized the cries of a scared little girl, and he knew that I was more than the fear I carried. I never really got to thank him in this incarnation for that gift.

When Kamala passed... it was the beginning of the end. Those who knew her, who really knew the school and the land, knew that it wouldn't survive. It couldn't survive -- not in the way she had envisioned, because she no longer carried the torch. There were other brilliant people to help carry it, but there was so much of her there that it was only natural that when she died, so, too the land would begin to wane. It wasn't about upholding the vision, because, realizing the aftermath of the closing doors, the vision is being upheld by those who carry it on for her. A great many people, myself included, who shared a common goal and lit our own torches from hers.

Now, as the announcement says, "an era has come to an end", it becomes real that it has. It is the final phase of the dying process. It has lived, it is dying, and soon, in some fashion, will be reborn again. It doesn't make the process any easier, for each of us who loved it, who were loved by it and who were there, individually, exactly who we needed to be and who we were meant to be, without judgment, without agenda, without fear... we are saying goodbye to that physical piece, the physical land, the physical remembrance, the symbol of our container of memories... yet we each carry a piece of the Dove with us, forward, into our own journeys and adventures, to carry out the vision in other ways, unified by a womyn who believed in the sentiment that "healing the planet begins by healing the individual"...

)0(

Change is afoot

2010-07-13T23:09:00.000-04:00

While in most areas of my life I feel like things are moving precisely where I want them to be, even more so, in other areas I am slightly amused at how things don't necessarily remain the same, but just stand still, like being frozen in time. It's not circumstances around us that make it that way, but simply a choice, somewhere in the atmosphere, to remain still. It's not a stillness of stagnation per se, though in one area I am labeling it as such, but rather a stillness of curiosity. I'm curious where the road is, yet I'm not properly packed or prepared for it, but just waiting for it to come to me, like those walkway escalators, bizarre, but humorous.

I was emailing my spiritual mother tonight, thinking about art, thinking about painting the body once more with spiritual ink to mark the next passage in my life. It had me look back for a moment, not deeply stuck in a time machine, but this smile of where time goes. The days spent doing laundry and washing dishes have mindful gratitude (most of the time), then others I wonder why bother, because the larger picture beckons while the dishes and laundry can wait until later, or better, for someone else to take over. The bigger picture comes forth in small fractions, like incomplete puzzle pieces because I've decided to shake the box up, pour out half, then put the rest away. If a puzzle can't be made out of what's there then damn the whole thing, it wasn't meant to be put together. I laugh at that side of myself, the eager and easily annoyed parts that want instant gratification instead of enjoying the process of true, absolute completion. Blasted goats, we're not so great at patience, are we?

Time has been too fast lately. It speeds when I need it to slow down, it stands still when I want it hurry up, though that's typical of our human psyches, I suppose.

I've been taking some time this week for the more "mundane" activities while I figure out what the rest of my year is going to look like. Some changes are afoot and while I've anticipated them for quite some time, it's in many ways, another death, though not of the human variety, but of the land, of the spirit, it's a spiritual death of release and letting go. A theme the past year has brought to my feet.

It doesn't 'directly' affect me, but it affects the reality of my memories, of being able to access them as a physical trigger as I once was able to, or have easily taken for granted. It's a ripping off of the bandaid, a sadness for the land, but a growth forward like all obstacles present. Again, not 'directly' my obstacle, but I feel it, and that counts for something.

So, the hour glass moves, the sand either slow or fast, but the environment remains the same: contemplative and quiet. I've been desperate for the quiet, but I've been enjoying the connections that keep me presently aware. The once-Hermit status seems to be melting a bit. It's choice, after all, and to find myself on the other side of the wall of being social is strange in this skin that hid from it easily.

In this timeless/time-full moment(s), I am feeling the need to create. Spider has come on more than one occasion to remind me of creation. The weaving of the web is underway, it's birthing and spinning, I am the Web, the Web is me. Old patterns present themselves, like teachers reminding you to do your homework, but the patterns aren't dysfunctional or stagnant, even beyond "lessons", they're just patterns. Quilted, placed together intricately, it is its own web, it's own formation of continuity of life. The web is flowing, the creation follows suit, the canvas beckons from miles away, sitting on a shelf, near restlessness if I don't obey, and I feel my fingers and hands getting dirty in anticipation. When was the last time I painted? I mean really painted? It's not a creation of masterpiece that calls to me, but a creation of energy. It's been painted in my mind for quite some time. It's a project of channeling and being channeled. I sense this is what Spider is trying to tell me...

)0(

On the table

2010-07-12T17:06:00.000-04:00

"I throw my cards on your table" -- the inner committee is doing all of that, taking the collective cards of movement, of stagnation, of production, and throwing them, eagerly and tenderly, but mindfully, on the table... they tell me it's time to look at them, not even to put them in order, but to look at them and decide which 10 cards will I carry with me for the darker half of the year. I'm not meant to carry the entire deck -- the deck has grown over the years, a spiritual pack rat unable to let go to sentimentality, it is looking at each of them, despite the mental exhaustion of how long it may take, and sorting.

It's a mix of cards, varied in form and meaning from the deeply contemplative aspect to the fun, child-like innocence of purity. This is the first time at this time of year that I'm not actually thinking of "balance". How strange. It's as though I came to the core of equal breath, and now, having breathed it and tasted (or rather, sampled), I don't need to swim in that ocean just yet, not this half of the year.

Tomorrow marks a month since my grandmother's crossing. It's familiar in my heart and mind this past week, the ocean of tears opening and the permission gently granted to release has been honored, her smell familiar in my minds eye in a way that I didn't know you could have familiarity with scent without an actual, physical remembrance. Such an interesting space to be in.

I'm feeling quite enamored with the work we're doing with the womyn's circles for the CM. It's a purification in movement -- movement of all the subtle bodies as well as movement in the spiritual waters. We have a great rapport, the three of us who work together in this ministry, as well as those who come and share of themselves and share with us. It's a dream come true, this beautiful presence of being able to not only hold space for the deeper connection of self, but be part of that space, to be loving and loved, to be nurturer and nourished, to be the supporter and be supported. Perhaps that's why I don't feel the need to consume myself with questions and endless discussions of inner balance -- I am experiencing it on this level which has profound effects.

Last week, in an attempt to keep my insanely organized self happy, I decided to go through my old journals. It consisted of pulling them all out of the bookshelf, dusting them off, looking at the covers, then putting them back in... I didn't know if I wanted to go "there". One of the things I like to do as a journal is coming to an end is look at the prior journal, specifically a year later to see where I was at this time. Somehow, it didn't seem important, not yet at least, to see where I was then, so much as where I was before then. There was one journal in particular calling me, and I held it in my hand, wondering what treasures I filled inside, all the while being pulled in the direction of one particular entry towards the beginning... it's an entry I'm not comfortable sharing with the outside world -- not yet at least. It's a verbal painting of my dark self, and to be perfectly honest, I didn't even know I was in that state at that time. I hadn't realized how deep I went into that cavern of depression, because I wasn't fully immersed in it, I simply checked in for a short visit, but seeing, in retrospect, the actual pain I was in... I really don't know why it surprises me.

It is by far one of the best pieces of my writing to date. It is completely raw, completely. I didn't know I could get that honest with myself in that state of mind. I could taste the pain, I could feel the fear, I could smell the shame... words are incredibly powerful, yes, but when you're not actually in that state of mind or that energy field, it's eye-opening. That dark side, the "depression" (it's not a word I like much, and my choice to not use it often isn't fear-based, but rather out of the distaste it tends to, inaccurately, represent), is a constant juggling act. I find that I am naturally in tune with my shadow side, sometimes too eager to jump in and allow myself to be consumed because I forgot basic safety measures like anchoring or utilizing the assistance of my guides because some parties in the inner committee wish to be absorbed in those waves. Each day the layers make sense; the older I get the natural hue of innocence changes form and my ability to see things more clearly adapt as a result. Sometimes they're clearer, other times masked by resistance.

It's shocking, to some degree, to see that, then, who I was, that pain, the pain that is a familiar memory, but not the story of my Now. I stare at a blank canvas, instead of the block that stands in fear, I sense the colors emerging onto the board before hands can touch... incredibly cool!

)0(

"I realize then, that the hardest part will always be leaving..."

2010-06-14T14:47:00.005-04:00

I have been playing this song in my head for the past three weeks. Unable to actually listen to it until today, it has both haunted and healed me, but today it breaks me, into tiny pieces, spread all over the floor, waiting (hoping) to be crumpled upon, so I don't really have to feel, so I don't have to actually think, so my breath doesn't have to be mine. Every lyric, every word, every tremor of speech... it may not be about the same person, but it is of the same theme... "Goodnight, Goodbye"... all I can see now, burned into my brain and the back of my eyes, is my grandmother, laying on her bed, gone. She crossed the veils yesterday morning... her pain is gone, her spirit free...

It has felt like months since the diagnosis... yet, it hasn't even been a month. I knew it would be fast, but "knowing" and actually internalizing the true realization are two completely different emotions. I was naive to think that I knew better, that I knew differently, but I was shut down, engrossed in a pain that I couldn't express, drowning in anger and fear when really, the truth was, I was scared. And now... now she is no longer with us, no longer gasping for breaths that we take so easily for granted; no longer struggling to swallow food that we mindlessly ingest; no longer watching the pained faces of her loved ones staring back at her, having thoughts she never quite shared with us, her own internal process I may always find curious... the same questions plague me as before -- was she scared, was she aware these were her last breaths, did she have regrets, was she lonely... did she feel mindfully ready? It is the last blood mystery, the last of the mysteries that I admit I don't know enough about, that I'm scared to learn more...

I can't breathe with this song playing... it tortures me, but it's hard to say that it tortures me in ways that makes me remember her in a way that I don't want to forget. We gifted each other with a soulful experience that I took for granted in her waking hours. It hit me towards the end of her days. I bottled the anger, stored it for later, and when her diagnosis came, I cracked it open, spreading it around me, like poison, not realizing it was completely fear-based. I didn't want to see it as fear. I didn't care. I needed to process through the hurt, for the less-than-love that I wanted, that I felt, and now, knowing she is gone, it's like the badly spoken "better late than never" that you realize what you had.

It may have not been what I "wanted", and it may have been compared to others unfairly, but she loved me tremendously... all the memories of how she treated me shifted in her finals weeks, I didn't carry the pain, but I was afraid to cradle the memories, it felt like too much responsibility, I didn't want to look at my role in this...

"I'm sorry for all the times
I was selfish and unkind
All these years that I've had with you and this is what I'm left with
With the closing of your eyes
All these things clog up my mind
But the only thing we said was that which mattered most"

I saw my selfishness, too little, too late. I looked at her, laying on that bed, as though she were still sleeping, and I saw what I didn't do... the gift of my daughter, this precious Bodhisattva that brings joy to all she meets, and I didn't share her, not until the very end, because I was hurt, I was angry, and my grandmother didn't have that, she didn't have the final years of her life embraced in this precious beauty because of my unkindness. My karma, my guilt, my fear, my pain. I can't take it back, not here, and a piece of me is forever broken for it.

The last words we said to each other, I didn't even understand. She said something to me, and I tried to translate it in my mind, but I didn't know. I could have asked my mother to translate, to tell me what these last words between us would be, but I didn't, and I kicked myself inside the whole ride home, thinking I would have another chance to find out... but I didn't. In some ways I imagine I didn't need to know so much as need to be there, to hold her hand, to actually tell her, sincerely, that I did love her, to energetically transmit to her that the pain was gone, between us, that I wasn't poisoning the room with it, that I put it on a shelf to examine later, but my own role, not hers, not a past that is no longer here... I think I did that. I hope I did.

I had spoken with Lama Willa and she shared with me a practice the Tibetans do when someone is dying -- to imagine their benefactors above their head, sending the dying person a wish of love. I did that when I was there, when she was still alive, and how it affected me was something I couldn't begin to imagine. That love, given to her by her benefactors, became my love too, once again transmitted through the bloodline, and another layer of pain was healed.

I couldn't speak yesterday when I spoke with the hospice nurse. The emotions hitting me faster than I could contain, I called my spiritual mother to vomit all the words I couldn't say to anyone else about this. I stopped breathing, needing to be reminded to breathe, the breaths were painful...

The living days she had, before the diagnosis, were lonely. She was alone. We made sure of that. We can't take all the blame... I don't want there to be blame... we chose the roles we played, each of us; each of us too stubborn to let go of what had been said, what had been done, content with our decisions, and when we knew she was dying, yes, we put it aside and came to her bedside, but as my father said so matter-of-factly, it was "too little, too late".

I was haunted by that statement of his, turning the mirror, realizing it was true, though. Did it take her dying to bring us to her bedside? Would we have really come otherwise? Would we have held onto our own ego-clinging bullshit? I haven't appreciated her life enough, I haven't appreciated the realization that she is the last living maternal bloodline... I didn't appreciate the stories of my ancestry she could share, the stories of life and love and, yes, even pain that traveled through the blood... I won't ever have those moments again, not in the way I want, beyond the scope of ancestral spirit work, yes, I understand that, but I'm talking about this physical realm, which naturally intermixes the spirit world ("if we allow it" I hear my spirit guides whisper)...

"With the lights still off
I study your frail body
And what all these living days has left you with
With your breath across the room
And my hand upon the door
I realize then, that the hardest part will always be leaving..."

I held her hand, waiting for her to wake up, knowing she was already pronounced hours before, knowing I couldn't get there in time, knowing the last breaths I heard was on the phone in the background, the last sounds I will ever hear her mutter, but awake she didn't...

As my mother held her hand, I cleared her aura, then holding her hand I prayed, prayed to White Tara, over and over. Certainly not the number of mantras suggested, but it was with heart-felt intention that I held that space and simply prayed. Then, she felt gone.

The funeral home came, and we each said our goodbyes. It didn't feel like that would be the very last moment I would see her. It doesn't feel like that was the last moment. Her hands curled, her fingers cold, her body relaxed... I apologized to her, for the pain we both endured, for my selfishness, for not seeing, in my adult years, the actual love that existed.

We left shortly after the funeral home took her away. We're planning to all be there tomorrow, in her home once more, this time without her, to go through her life. Like a small child, I want to throw myself to the ground and say "I don't want to go", because it will be hard to be there, without her there, in her home. But I know I need to go, for her, for my family, for me... to carefully tend to the antiques she lovingly adored all these years; to laugh at the way she used to hide things in little bags everywhere, or the many many tissues that lay crumpled around "just in case" -- a habit I have taken from her as well. We'll share memories, such as the crystal bowl she used to make her famous celery salad, or the memorabilia from the Copley where she once worked...

I have withdrawn from everyone, attempting to hold onto some thread of connection, some thread that reminds me to not dwell in the darkened cavern that is my easy escape. It's not easy, to remember life in the midst of mourning. It's not easy, to have complete gratitude for breath when others have ceased breathing. It's not easy, to cry when the well feels empty, and when your heart tells you you can't cry anymore.

It's hard to imagine that I won't be seeing her face again, to hear her laugh, to hear her sigh or that sound she made when she was surprised by anything... instead, now, it will have to be in my memory, where I cradle those who have crossed over less than a year ago, filling my heart with both joy and pain, the tenderness of my heart is fragile, and, much like my grandmother's collection of porcelain figurines, I feel delicate.

Now, now I look at my daughter and see my grandmother. My grandmother left the legacy of our matriarchal bloodline of our past, my daughter the future who carries it forward... yesterday I was pleased to remember that I captured one more photo of my grandmother, with my daughter, the bridge between the past and future. I am grateful that the last photo I have is one of her smiling, where just hours before she appeared to be on her way to the other side when I said that Nimue would be coming to visit the next day. Her color slowly changed, her eyes slowly opened, and my brother looked relieved when he said that he believed seeing Nimue has given her something to live for. It was a great moment to witness them together, so natural, despite the language barrier, they were there together in love.

Nimue had gone up to my grandmother during the visit, while the hospice nurse was talking to all of us about her meds, and she slipped between us all and went to my grandmother's bed, held her hand and said "I had to come and see you, to say goodbye, before you left to be with the Goddess." I remember the tears filling my heart then, as it does now, and reminded of what my daughter told me yesterday after I told her that my Abuela was gone... "We love her very much, that's what we have to hold in our hearts." -- from the brilliant light of a 4-year-old Bodhisattva.

I feel my first breaths starting to release...

)0(

Your blood, my blood.

2010-05-18T12:11:00.000-04:00

My grandmother is in the hospital. It's pancreatic cancer. It seems silly to say that we don't know how "bad" it is, but we don't know, yet, how "bad" it is. It appears to be "bad". Bad. A three-letter word we give so much immense power to. A little fucking word that is so large, so dangerous, so scary.

I'm not sure how I'm feeling about this. I'm feeling disconnected, confused, out-of-body, out of the moment... my grandmother is the only grandparent I have ever known, the only living grandparent I have, but our relationship in my lifetime has been, well, "challenging" seems like a more polite way to put it, but suffice to say that I was never her favorite. I reminded her too much of my father -- a compliment to me, an insult to her. She adores my brother, the first-born and her godson, he was her everything. When my mother became pregnant with me, there was some drama surrounding the family dynamic at that time between my grandmother and father, to the point where, I'm told, she cursed me in the womb, wishing me death. Sounds so dramatic as I type it out, but isn't it interesting the power of words and intention, for my mother's pregnancy was a difficult with me, close to losing me, intermingling moments of the intended "curse" to coincide with past life karma, my umbilical cord was wrapped around my throat -- born into the world with throat chakra issues, sometimes I forget how long it traveled to attach to me.

By the time my sister was born my grandmother had more of a presence in our family, but still, in some ways I became a reminder of that time that she was separated from my mother in what she believes was entirely my father's fault. It's characteristic of how we tend to hold onto hurt and continue to hurt others because of the pain we endure.

I have some good memories with her -- though as an adult I find them harder to bring to the surface of my mind. Instead I remember days where she was rude to me, where she yelled at me, where she blatantly favored my brother and sister over me, where she tried to convince my mother to get rid of us... "ungrateful" is a word I recall her using in that situation.

Still... she's my grandmother. The only one I have ever known. I haven't 'forgiven' her those moments, I've just let them be. Whether it's character building or just the understanding that it's a "generational" thing, it doesn't much matter when you choose to let it go. I let it go and over the years didn't have much contact with her.

She's the first one in my family to be sick. To be this sick. Last year I said goodbye to three people... it was the first time I really processed through death, or at least began the process of understanding death from this realm. It's not to say that I haven't had relatives die, I have, but they have all been in Chile. In some innocent, child-like way I see them as "not here" vs gone in the way we know people to be, physically, from this world.

I didn't know how to feel when I heard about my grandmother. Sorry. Sorry that anyone has to go through any kind of suffering. Sorry that one day without notice you are handed a diagnosis that can rattle anyone to their core.

She doesn't want treatment. The fact is, she has lost her will to live a long time ago. I'm not surprised to hear this. I'm not. I figured as much. She is ready to die, anyone can see that, it's clear when you're in her presence.

She went into the hospital on Wednesday night, got the call Thursday morning and by the afternoon I had gone in with my father to go visit her. I didn't know what to expect, how she would look, how I would even feel, but I knew it was important to be there sooner rather than later, so I went.

I wasn't prepared for what I saw. This womyn, this womyn laying on the bed, fragile, somewhat broken even, thin, scared, and yellow... incredibly yellow. A yellow that I didn't know people could turn. The whites of her eyes were gone, replaced by another shade of yellow, a shade that even lightened her brown eyes. Her temperature hot, her blood pressure incredibly low... here was the womyn who loved me less, who cared for me less, who preferred others to me... yet, here was a womyn, in pain, in fear, in loss... that was the womyn I was visiting. I didn't feel attached -- not in the way that seems cold, but in the way that I felt called to be there in service, not as a grandchild, but as someone who would hold the hand of anyone in this kind of pain, in this kind of terror, it was the way I knew how to be there in that moment.

I held her hand, asked of she wanted Reiki, and she did, so I sat and cleared the channels, opened myself up to allowing the healing, in whatever form she most needed, to flow, without ego, just love. Just love.

I told her to close her eyes and just breathe, that's all she had to do, and she nodded and rested as best as she could. The pain was there, so heavy, so torturous, and clearly very large. She began to shake as I began to feel the pressure rise and rise. Then, at one point, it simply stopped. Her shaking stopped, the heat and the pain stopped. I opened my eyes to look at her and saw tears. "Bien", she had said. Good. The pain was gone. For a moment, it was gone. And I held her hand as she spoke to me in Spanish, a language I no longer translate in my mind, but let her speak, in hope that even if I didn't understand, maybe it was just important to let her speak, without understanding, just presence. It was the only gift I knew how to give in that moment.

I held her hand, she squeezed mine tight, tears filling her eyes, fear felt all over the room, like old wallpaper that never quite leaves... and I looked at her, squeezed her hand tight in return, and said "Don't be afraid, Abuela... don't be afraid." It wasn't me. It wasn't even my guides. This was all channeled for her. It was her message, her guides, her key to this next phase, whatever this next phase was, to just hear it. Despite the language barrier, she understood, tears rising once more, then a deep breath as she shook her head. Yes, she understood. Whatever it meant, whoever it came from, she understood, and in that moment I looked at her, this fragile womyn, and something became so very clear:

She's my mother's mother. My daughter's great-grandmother... her blood is my blood. No matter our differences, no matter how she treated me, no matter these memories of pain and sadness and the realization of her being one of the teachers in my life who I believed convinced me that I couldn't be loved... we shared the same blood.

We share the same blood.

That was a profound moment for me. I was there to be of service to the Realm of Ancestors. It wasn't about me in that moment to wonder about old pains. It's not to deny them or not validate them, no, that's a later piece for me to work on. She can't help me with that, that much I am clear on. Bringing that pain there, the anger, the hurt of how I believed I wasn't worthy of the same love, that's not something I plan to give her to take with her into the next life. She has her own karma to carry, whether this piece is a natural part of it or not, that's not for me to decide or dissect.

There's so much attached to this moment, to the "what comes next" phase that feels so cold, so calculated. But, in this capacity, we must "plan" as best we can. For her, for my mother, for each other. What comes next, we all hold it in our minds with baited breath. We know. We taste it. Not just of my grandmother's illness, the fact that she won't fight, or rather, won't fight to live in this realm with this pain, but instead fight to hold onto a choice that she can only hope will be honored, without battle.

No, what comes next is another level of pain that we haven't had to visit in some time. It's a pain I understand, but I don't know how we are going to deal with it. How does one prepare? How does one prepare when most are already tired of fighting? How does one prepare when the story you think you have finally put to a close has come back, reprinted for another generation, yet, it's not a new generation at all, but the same generation, just older, wiser (?), but tired. Tired of fighting for someone who won't even fight for themselves. What do you do with that?

Yes, it's rushing the gun. It's thinking too far ahead, like being a cheap fortune teller who predicts an outcome that you're now convinced is true, while ignoring life all around -- the *now* of life. This present moment.

I'm in the present, and I'm not. I'm in the pain, and I'm not. I'm in the fear, and I'm not. Not yet.

How do I process through this? With deep breaths. That's all I can do, that's all I can handle for this moment. I have so many questions in my mind, so many things that I am processing through, and yet, trying to make room for the rest as well. It weighs heavy on my chest.

It feels like a wave...

)0(

Vibrant releases

2010-05-05T20:05:00.001-04:00

I'm still riding the wave of Beltane, which is one of my two favorite Sabbats (the other being, what naturally seems to be most Witches favorite, Samhain). I think, if I reflect for a moment on years past, that every week before Beltane I am in sort of a rush and haze of mental energy. So much to do, feeling pulled in different directions, then it ceases and relaxes at Beltane, as it did this time. Clarity, such clarity that birthed from the collective vibration of lovers energy... it's beginning, a different essence of beginnings than even Ostara brings, but a beginning that feels almost innocently open... it's delicious and new, flirty and seductive, raw, even... this time of year brings a connected dance... like a web...

My web has been cleared of too many threads and they have easily and simply fallen away. No emotions attached to them, just time for their release, understanding that not all webs last forever, each web spins anew, as it should. New, renewed, birth, construction, death, resurrection... the webs don't, currently, consist of many strands in the way they once had, with many obligations, some spiraling off into new forms without my acute awareness. No, this time it's clear, so vibrantly silver, sturdy strands, spun with intention. Formless yet beautifully crafted... it speaks volumes to what I am birthing and what no longer has space in my world.

Our second womyn's circle is coming up this weekend and the ritual was inspired and adapted from both a ritual I had done with another womyn's circle, but also the works of Shekhinah Mountainwater, whose work was inspirational and continues to inspire me from the veil. I'm excited for it. Not just as one who is assisting in the facilitation, but as one who will experience the dance from all perspectives; holding space within and on the perimeter while being able to share in the experience with all sorts of womyn... it's the building of community, something I have envisioned and wanted for this area for quite some time.

Vacation is less than a month away... a nice week in the mountains, connecting to Earth, to all things natural and peaceful, away from daily distractions, and just reconnecting, recharging and simply being. I'm really looking forward to it. It rained half the time we were there last time, that whole crazy month of rain we saw during the summer last year, but it was such a welcoming rain, such a peaceful rain, smelled so tranquil. The whole place was tranquil. I spent a short hour at the top of the mountain, looking at the mystery of the clouds, the century-old tales the many trees had to share... it was much too short, but when you're surrounded by people afraid of heights, being at the top of the mountain isn't necessarily a place you'll end up staying for long.

TempleFest will be happening the day after we leave, but I will be driving back for the day to offer a children's workshop and be one of the two representatives for the Cancer Ministry. I struggled with the decision to be present or not, because I really wanted to take this time for myself and my family, but this is also an important area that I am working towards; a calling that I have heard loud and clear and am devoting much of my creative efforts to Priestess. On the other hand, I really did/do want to be there, at the festival, and since it's been changed from a weekend to a one-day event, I feel content about my decision to be there. It will be nice to gather with all the different ministries since I haven't seen most of them since the leadership retreat.

I've added a project for the home to be completed before we go. It's the side of the Capricorn that tells me beginning a project will be a good thing, while the shady/rebellious side mocks with hideous laughter knowing that with the short time and the many things to complete before I go, that us dear Goats aren't prone to "finishing". However, while I do recognize that it's simply a characteristic "trait" and not necessarily the foundation in which all Capricorns are judged... it's sometimes necessary to have an outsource to place (playful) "blame" on.

The releases, though, the ones that have shifted in vibration, they're clear, clear and somewhat (sometimes) off in the horizon, awaiting full purging. I haven't "purged" this year. Not like in years past. I'm really taking this week to identify if it's simply unnecessary to have such a dramatic purge as years prior, or, if I'm still subconsciously holding on.

My gut says "yes"... it's holding on... I know what it is. It's the "invisibility cloak" if you will (perhaps my subconscious is begging for another reread of Harry Potter, ha!)... I'm becoming so present... it's another shift... one that just happens... one that has happened... my consciousness is just catching up... somewhat willingly... somewhat met with resistance...

)0(

One wild & precious life...

2010-04-15T16:39:00.000-04:00

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" -- Mary Oliver

I read this quote this morning that really captivated me. In the sequence of emotional memory and energetic breakthroughs, today this quote wrapped itself around me like a warm blanket. It's comforting, asked in a non-threatening or scary way. I'm not scared by this, per se, but I am intrigued, and, if I am to admit honestly, a bit perplexed (with a hint of scared)... what will I do with this one wild and precious life?

My inner dialogue has been fast-paced and working overtime. It's making up for the lack of disciplined journaling that I am used to, or even the sporadic touches of online blogging. I think there has been a little fear in committing thought to paper, this essence of a semi-permanent nature to hold outside of myself. But the journaling is a life-line. I can't be without it. It is the sacred vessel that holds my inner being. There is some attachment there, as the vehicle for release, the vehicle which I don't allow others an opportunity to take the steering wheel and drive. It's an aspect of my controlling nature I choose not to release... release, that word has particular resonance with me this week... this month.

Jonathan and Amy have crossed my mind a lot this week. It's odd that after all these years of not caring about "American Idol" I find myself watching it week after week, thinking of Jonathan, how he loved his Tuesday nights making fun or loving the contestants. I won't hear him rave/complain about them anymore. His darkness... I will, perhaps, forever shake my head at what could have been. Then again, if you're in that darkness, you can't see ahead, except the illusion (which becomes a near-fostered reality) of an even denser darkness. It's suffocating. I can't say that I don't understand why he did it, because I do, but it's our loss. He's gone, from this physical realm, except for the memories that those of us who loved him carry with us... it's not visceral though. Not the way I would want it to be.

When I think of Jonathan, it's only natural to think of Amy, who died less than a week later. One life taken with awareness, the other without. Chad's upcoming release of his new record brings to the forefront of my mind of just how much we'd be emailing each other right now in joyful anticipation. Now I listen to his songs for the both of us in some ways. Stepping foot into Tupelo, the last place we saw each other, the last time we hugged, it's painful. It brings it all back. It brings too much of it back. Too much loss... is there ever an amount of loss that is acceptable? Such silliness that flows out of our mouths...

So, naturally, this quote, this one wild and precious life... what is my plan? The gut instinct simply says, matter of fact, "none".

None.

I don't tend to make plans. I grew up not making plans. You don't make plans when you're not sure what you're future holds. You feel defeated by the anguish of the inner world you're enveloped in, and while there are moments of light, moments of aspirations and desires, for some, like myself at that tender age, it wasn't enough to foster plans.

I've been thinking a lot about that time, of the darkness, specifically when it began. I was a happy child. As a middle child I had any "Jan Brady" moments of sibling rivalry, but overall my childhood was happy, filled with memories of fun times.

When did the darkness creep in? Or, when did I stop choosing to embrace myself in light? Those years... it feels like medieval times now, to think of when that was. So long ago, yet still fresh in the mind in many ways. I don't want to forget those times. I also don't want to convince myself that it's a pattern of return. Things emerge, like a spiral, but you're never in that same place twice as you might believe you are. Turning the mirror: I am never in the same place twice... ::breathe::

I was listening to a song yesterday that brought up the mixture of darkness and the impermanence of life. It brings it back to this question of the one wild and precious life... I love how it rolls off the tongue, full of mystery and excitement, yet profound, simplistically, but powerfully, true. One life. One wild life. One precious life. Just one... just one.

Irregardless of our thoughts of reincarnation, it's present moment awareness of what this moment has to bring. It's the rhythmic tales and myths of the perpetual to-do list that has no true meaning or reflection of life. Dirty dishes, laundry, organization... is this what we're going to look back as the pivotal aspects of our lives when we're drawing in our last breath? Will we, then, have actual regret of what wasn't "planned", or more importantly, what wasn't "lived"?

It reminded me of the Japanese Wabi Sabi. How I love that word! But, I also love the idea behind it. As a former artist (I feel content to say that even though I feel like I am a creative being and an artist of life, that the "former artist" in me speaks more to the chapter of my life that began the healing process of my dark days), I love imperfections. I do. Imperfections are beautifully perfect to. They're unique and divine, in ways that aren't characteristically 'normal' of our vision of perfection.

I'm intrigued by the three realities of wabi-sabi: nothing lasts, nothing is finished and nothing is perfect. I may disagree with the last reality, because I have adapted a very different point of view of perfection, but the first two ring true for me in this moment.

I've been thinking about the various things on my plate. I've been thinking about where I want to really, truly, lend my energies to, and there are areas in which I know it would be best if I pulled back, so that I can be connected to that passionate essence I feel has been missing in this particular area. I've been given an opportunity to explore these thoughts and questions in the flesh, and it has helped in clarity (awareness), but now comes the choice.

Next week I plan to be offline to participate in the No Impact Project's carbon cleanse week. While I know I probably won't be doing everything to the extreme, this is about having mindfulness of what my footprint really looks like as well as taking this time to create the shifts that I have been wanting to create, as well as strengthen any that have already taken place. I can see areas in my life where I can serve to be less wasteful, and I'm looking forward to having the week to explore that further.

It's not mandatory to be offline, that is simply something I wanted to do to help create a bigger impact (or less of an impact!) as well as get in touch with the roots of what I have been missing -- natural connection. The cyber realm offers much in connection that I actually do enjoy, because I feel like my stronger points are through the written word versus the spoken word, but I know I have this natural tendency to withdraw and get lost in work. Great work, work of the spirits, but still, when you're 'using' it as a way to disconnect, there is no connection there in the way that I would want.

It will also be nice to not worry about what "has" to get done, but just disconnecting in a blissful way. I'm looking forward to writing more, reading, spending time with my daughter and not having to play the balancing act.

Somehow I feel this is all connected -- doing the carbon cleanse, looking at life, looking at waste, both as a physical aspect that harms the Mother, but also how the metaphysical symptoms of the same waste creates a discordance within myself. It's a cleanse, yes, but it's also a good time for personal retreat.

My altar has been shifted to reflect the season, and while there are some other minor shifts that I would like to create on the altar for my studies with the Temple, it has a happy vibe to it, so I'm flowing with it now and allowing it to shift as needed. Funny how I can be less controlling and have a partnership with my altar and yet in other areas I sometimes forget the gifts of equality...

)0(

In the dark, in the rain

2010-03-30T17:41:00.000-04:00

Staring at a blank page is equivalent to an artist staring at a blank canvas: it can be thrilling at times, but mostly, from my perspective, it can be terrifying. The spinning wheels in your mind become blank, despite all of the inner dialogue that generally creeps in... you're having this conversation with yourself, inside of yourself, immune to the outer world around you, whether it's momentary or not, it ceases to exist for that moment in time (non time), and you're in it... you're in the dark.

Darkness has so many relative associations, I won't begin to bore anyone with where it comes from, the distinctions between "good" and "bad", functional and dysfunction, wanted or unwanted... it's just darkness. If we start from there, from some sort of uniquely neutral void, it is nothing: no-thing. Grasping that piece is rather strange in some ways. I see it hanging in a gallery, almost self-indulgent at times, humorous mostly, like the outcast of the abstract world.

The world around me is complaining about rain. I'm not sure if I can read one more statement of how "awful" it is or how someone is sick of it. It's common thread to complain about rain, common thread to enjoy and embrace sunshiny days.

I love the rain. I can recall last summer there was a good solid month of nothing but rain. I believe it was otherwise known as June. It rained. Just rained. All month. I don't recall much about potential flooding in the way that we're experiencing it now in New England, but there was a ton of rain, and the complaints never stopped. I found it beautiful -- the rain that is -- it was breathtakingly peaceful. I can recall the one sunny day we had and the journey to the top of the mountain and breathing in Gaia's miraculous energy. It was beautiful, and the rain the day after was just as lovely.

I'm at home in the rain. It's like a shield of comfort. The thing is, I'm too comfortable in it. Retreating to my inner cave is of such ease, it's terrifying at times, to easily jump back into old comforts, away from the world, away from everything.

I've been continuing to work on the receiving love meditations... today... I wanted to free myself of the ego-clinging that came up and stand in the rain and wash it away... but I didn't. The more I sat in the meditation, the harder I found it to actually breathe. All of this stuff, rising to the surface. My mitra said this would happen, that there would be times where things would come up and it would be difficult, and I was as prepared for that as anyone could be. It's generally what happens when you begin to work with and heal shadow aspects of self. Still, in the moment it arises preparation means nothing except to say that your naivety at times is faulty.

I listened to the rain, in sync and so oddly connected to my emotions: slow and drippy as I contemplated where this was coming from; faster, yet quiet as the connection of what it was became clearer; pounding against the window in furry as it came so fast, like my insides could drown in an instant.

That was scary.

I have to say that I haven't felt that way, that sort of deep, dark depressive moment in quite some time. I'm trying not to think of the when so much as to remind myself to not run away from the moment out of deep discomfort and despair, but also not be in it in a way that I'm allowing it to live me. It reminds me of what Lama John says about the breath: to not breathe the breath, but instead allow the breath to breathe you. This feels the same in some ways. It speaks to me more about allowance vs control. I don't want to control the thoughts that arise, I want to understand them.

The rain helps with that. It's like survival at times. Today it's dark. I'm dark. I'm dark in a non-destructive way, but I'm dark. In the darkness, in the rain, in the uneasy breath, not quite scared, but on edge. Nervous.

It sounds so... intense when actual words are associated with feelings. My level of being scared or nervous isn't quite the same as someone else, nor should it. If we stop generalizing terms for everyone then the uniqueness of what we express would then fill a gallery with impressive art. I like art. I love how the story can change from one brushstroke to the next. I want words to be the same. Not this generic brand.

Maybe I'm just too picky.

I'm reflecting outside of myself. I'm distracted. I don't want to go to the darkness. Even today, when I was knee-deep in it, I walked away. I distracted myself. Completely conscious of what I was doing, I elected to not be in it. I elected to hold on instead of clear and transmute. Why?

I was scared. From an emotional standpoint, not at all intellectual, I was scared. Intellectually I know stepping into that darkness doesn't mean I will immerse myself so deeply as to become depressed again. It's been a couple of years since I have experienced that darkness to that deep of a degree. But when you're feeling it, when your emotional body is screaming at you that it's in pain, intellect gets pushed aside, and you become a warrior, fighting for life... my inner dialogue reads that as "fighting for light".

Wow.

That was a powerful recognition.

)0(

"You're calling to me, I can't hear what you've said"

2010-03-23T00:11:00.000-04:00

I'm extremely captivated by that line tonight. A wonderful Cyndi Lauper song, it brings back some of the best and worst times of my inner world. Music has that amazing capability to not only be a time traveling device, but a present moment mechanism that makes you leave the world behind for the duration of that song and sit centered in whatever the memory brings. I've been in a "shuffle" of time travel this week, bringing back mostly fun and intoxicating memories of a time that feels so alien, in wonderful ways, but the occasional reminder of old pains surfaces, telling new (remembered) tales of when, and the image on the other side of the mirror is brilliant -- she is neither past, present, nor future, she simply is. What power to simply BE.

This has been an incredible month of doing and being. Each month this year has been an amazing transformation through time. It's like a fine tightrope of linear awareness -- extremely fine threads, right in the center, and either side is a vast world of non-linear gravity. Go too fast or spend too much time contemplating, you fall off, and the world accelerates at a time you don't recognize because you're not in that time, which is all the same to you, completely fine, but in this physical realm we have those moments where linear awareness is so key. I sometimes lose sight of that key. I like to hide it under the rug, make childish faces at it and do things from the comfort of my non-linear world. Though I do feel I have good 'balance' in general there, however as I am quite often known for stating simply that I don't feel that I have truly grasped a true understanding of what "balance" actually means (to me), then this statement seems contradictory. Playfully though... my mind feels like a paradox of strangeness this evening.

Last year I removed a few projects on my plate because it was too much. I didn't have the time to devote to them, so I released them without attachment thinking I was doing something "good". The truth is, I didn't want to reveal to myself that those particular projects, though all quite functional endeavors, were things I really didn't have heart in. I don't know why I didn't want to admit that to myself. We dip our feet in many pools of life, the water isn't conducive all the time, and that's OK. I guess I just wanted to be invested in those projects more.

Then again, that was a different year. I was needing to let go in order to Be so that I could then be open. This year? Feels like nearly double of what I let go of... and I am pretty excited about each and every one of them. They are interconnected, and I feel like the general challenge that has been presented is one that I feel, with this intense knowing in my body, that it will clear itself -- well, that I will help clear it.

The subject line is quite fitting for what has been surfacing this month. My hearing has changed -- the internal hearing aspect that is. I've made myself deaf on occasion to what has surfaced, other times allowing small portions to filter through. Surprisingly, this hasn't been at all associated with fear, but is a result from anger.

The anger has been functional. Sounds strange to speak of "functional" anger, but it has been. It's active, it's moving, moving out, moving through, but being in motion. This is important. It hadn't moved in a while. It grew, it hibernated, it slithered, but it didn't leave. I wouldn't let it. It was my prisoner, much like fear (which is all connected), and I wanted to keep it here, where I convinced myself it was safe, but it was out of not wanting to let go.

The receiving love meditation that I have been working on has been bringing up this sort of fragmented piece of anger. It's not true anger, but it's not to say it's illusion, it's just a piece, dusty, dirtied, no longer functional, but stagnant, like chipped paint on the walls.

I can't begin to describe how amazing these meditations are. They have been painful, making me want to crawl out of my skin, feeling the anger move around like an unpleasant serpent under my skin... but it has been amazing. To give myself permission to release is such a gift. I did a lot of releasing over the years, transforming and transmuting, then I slowed down my conscious efforts after becoming a mother. I think like any new parent your focus becomes centered on your child, but the disservice to yourself becomes a disservice to your child as well, and I found myself back at the beginning in some ways. Joyfully back at the beginning, perhaps using it as an excuse to continue my role as "perpetual student", but the beginner's mind is one I have always treasured.

Went to the Temple's Ostara ritual and really had a wonderful time. It was so wonderful to see so many people there, both regular members and newcomers, who were there to not only celebrate, but build in community. There is something so different about this process of what Christopher and the Temple are doing. It feels different. I'm honored to be part of the work.

He felt led to start a spiral dance during the ritual and it was powerful. Doing that and the chanting combined was such a powerful raise in energy, makes me want to do spiral dances more often! I've participated in a couple of other spiral dances, but this one was larger and it just felt so pure.

We pulled eggs after our journey with runes on them. I didn't look at mine until I got home. I wanted to sit with the energy and tune myself to what I thought the rune might be. I don't work with runes, have been drawn to them for many many years, having a beautiful experience with them when I was in Sweden after my high school graduation and a womyn was there selling some from a street cart amongst several doing the same on this busy street, and her energy just made me stop. I came over and looked at the runes and we briefly chatted about nothing really, but I remember picking out one, looking at her, and she held my hand and it was the first time I can remember feeling energy to the degree that I did.

The rune? Ansuz.

The rune I pulled at Ostara? Ansuz.

I wanted to focus on heart-centered clearing and awareness for the ritual, but when the water came my way, I found myself charging and purifying my throat. No surprise there as I have had throat chakra issues over the years, but I was surprised to see the throat come up again. Ansuz is very throat centered: communication, wisdom, truth... I read somewhere that it is the balance (ha, there's that word again!) between spiritual and physical existence. Interesting, and fitting.

It is associated with Air, and in the meditation I heard Air literally telling me to "get up". "Get up" and go to the center to the altar and choose a rune. The synchronicity of events is always treasured. This rune comes at a perfect time as the utilization of my throat (in all its forms) is needing to come together for several, collective, endeavors. I'm open. It's flowing and connecting, and tonight had a moment to connect with the root chakra for some release and recognition of a piece I didn't realize I was still attached to.

In reflecting back at the subject... it's not that I "can't" hear what is being said, it's been a choice. The throat, the voice, it is hearing as well as speaking. The thing about vibrations is that while it may begin in one place, it doesn't mean it's centered in that area. It travels, much like Ansuz is traveling through my core being.

Blessed Ostara... may we embrace balance and become more awakened with each spring day.

)0(

Planetary healing/ascension

2010-03-08T12:39:00.000-05:00

There has been so much talk about the wind storm in New England, the massive earthquake in Chile, the tsunami warning, the reflections of what Gaia has brought to us in this early year alone... the interesting piece is where people mostly stand on this... no two answers are alike. You have the group of people who are in pain over the destructive turns nature is taking... others who fear doom over December 2012 luring... then another group who feel it's because of global warming... those that don't even believe in global warming... I know people from each of these groups and more. Where do I stand?

Several years ago I did a shamanic apprenticeship with the Eye of the Eagle program. In my second year we did a lot of work with weather spirits. I remember clear as day one particular journey where we asked the weather spirits for a message about nature, anything they wanted to share with us that they felt others needed to know. My journey was powerful... the collective elements joining together as One, yet each separately making their voices known. The message I received was an acronym: R.A.G.E: Roaring Against Global Extinction.

The message years ago was incredibly profound, it made me look at the Earth and spirits of this realm (and beyond) much differently. I became more aware of my footprints in this realm and on this land, and I realized I needed to be held more accountable for what was going on, for my own role in Gaia's embrace.

How did that look like?

It was a combination of practical things like looking at my waste, looking at what was needlessly being used (or abused), the things we're privileged to but often take for granted: hot water, heat, electricity... finding myself without those for the short times our power has been out has been a reinforced message from Gaia on gratitude.

I looked at my relationship with the elements, asking myself where my being, my actions, and my thoughts all fit into them, how that aspect was working directly with them, or in other cases, working indirectly with them. These parts takes a deep awareness, something our general society often lacks in daily life. It meant that not only was I needing to look at actions and thought forms that extended without (outside of myself) and how that affected Gaia, but it really meant that when you have uncovered all the aspects without, you return to "The Charge" and remind yourself of what's within, and how we're all extensions of the deities, so in return, WE are Gaia, embodied in physical aspect, and our inner realm has just as much accountability as our outer realm.

That was a heavy one to digest, sometimes still is. When you think about what's going on in the world, the constant complaints of how horrific the news is -- I, for one, hardly ever watch the news. Some would say it's being naive, only wanting to focus on the good, being blinded by the "reality" of what's going on. I've learned long ago and accepted that my reality is truly my own, and if others vibrate on the same wave length as my reality, then our coexistence beings that spiraling effect of harmony.

FB, for example, has become a launching pad for what sucks in our life. I think at times we need a venue to complain to, to release... I get that, I've utilized this space for that same purpose as well. But what about those who are simply in that state, all the time, feeding off the negative, succumbing to the shit in their lives and feel themselves worthless, loveless, less than... like finds like. Darkness relates to darkness. Light embraces light.

I complain, I do, I have moments where I lay it out on the floor, emptying a puzzle box, not caring which piece goes where, but wanting to thrash it about, stomp on it, become defiant, even bend them and contort them in childish annoyance... but it's rare, and it's not constant, and it's release. Functional? Only when it harms none, which, of course, includes myself. But we have those moments, where our thoughts are less than, where we feel less than, where complaining about the shitty aspects of life warrant minor tantrums... but imagine a world constantly obliged to tantrums? How does that affect the outer world; Gaia?

I've been doing some inner work and channeling on this piece about R.A.G.E, working with the weather spirits in understanding. It's extremely rare to hear me ever "damn" the weather. Blizzard, rain, hail, whatever it may be, I embrace it for what it is. My Shaman teacher once said that most of society is programmed to look at the sunny weather as being "good" days, while rain is "bad". We don't see the balance or the action caused by one or the other, probably because most don't care. Rain prevents summer bbq's that we love so much; too much sun prevents the land from being nourished with water to feed our soil; too much rain creates the opposite reaction...

I've been getting a lot of information relative to the ascension our souls and consciousness are rising to, otherwise known to some as 2012. One piece I sit with silence in. I have shared it with only two others, not out of elitism of "look at this information I have", but because they're neutral in the reception of this information, and won't judge it one way or the other. But the piece that is equally important in terms of raising consciousness is awakening. That's what enlightenment is all about: being awakened.

We each carry these threads in our lives; some are heavy duty gauge, pliable to some degree, others needing tools to conform to our desires; some made out of string, easy to cut, but also easy to tangle... we carry these threads, in both harmonious and discordant ways, and at times we simply knot them up, letting it build and build, and we cut them. Some new age practitioners have you looking at who or what is at the end of the cord, but they don't delve deeply into how it was knotted, how it was created so heavily into something outside of ourselves. We blame the other party, pure conditioning to not look at our own actions, and so we cut it, cut the cord, release the ties that bind... but what if these knotted cords is simply unconsciousness that got tangled with another unconscious being? It's not to put a "good" or "bad" sign on it, just unconscious... unawakened.

I know many teachers and lightworkers that tell their students and clients to give it back to the Earth, whatever you release, give it back to the Earth for "Mother Earth to do what She will with it"... yes, I believe in Her transmutation/transformation of this... but just look at that phrase: "do what She will with it"... She is doing what She will with it, isn't She? The storms, the rage, the hurt, the pain, the anger, all translating itself to our daily weather, our warming of the ice caps, our pollution... these are a manifestation of our reality. We take the knotted cord, cut it, and give it to Her... it's like throwing a pebble into the water, the ripples, the cause and effect...

I give (and share) these pieces with the Goddess, as well. The difference is that I feel heavily called to not only healing these fragmented pieces of Self, but of understanding it as much as I am capable of understanding it. Then again, I think I have this constant need to understand the "why's" to a degree that can be nearly compulsive. But if I can gain an ounce of understanding why, then I create an awareness piece that I, hopefully, will be awakened to should I come across this again. Know Thyself, right?

When I feel content that I have this piece as healed as I can, I give/share it with the Goddess, sometimes offering it and asking that She transmute this for the highest good of all, knowing that sometimes what that highest good is may not be what my consciousness might choose -- it's embracing trust. Most often the other piece I choose to do is ask that the transformation and what is being sent out, what I am releasing, be done in Love. This is my piece. I don't want to "rid" myself of these things or "lose" them... especially not in hate, not in malice, not in aggravation for the grief it may have brought, but in love. I created this aspect for a reason, I am grateful, to whatever degree I can be regarding the situation, and I release, with love.

I think if we look at these pieces in ourselves, rewinding to the beginning of my long thought, and awaken (to whatever degree we can at this time) to what the connection of both our inner and outer realms create, we, as these spiritual beings embodied in this physical realm, can create a consciousness of love and wisdom that translates to natural healing of Gaia, which in turn is a natural healing of ourselves.

It's a lot of thought, a lot of process... but it's what has been on my mind in this ascension piece.

)0(

A spiral of thoughts...

2010-03-02T16:53:00.000-05:00

I feel like life is sort of composed of connection, a span of commitments for two weeks, connection, commitments, connection, repeat. In my own life I spend a day or two catching up on emails and connecting, then I vanish for a couple of weeks attempting to squeeze in or juggle various commitments... I can't juggle... I think this simple, matter-of-fact metaphor speaks greatly to the fact that juggling simply doesn't work.

I'm a spirit of non-linear thinking and being, but residing in a world of linear concepts. This is challenging. It's not to say that it's "hard", because that's a choice I choose not embrace. I mentioned to a friend of mine recently how I prefer my life to be easy, and she laughed, saying it was impossible... why? If we're creators of our own realities, why, why would I create a reality in which I am knowingly making difficult choices? Perhaps a simple concept, and it's not to say that the uncontrolled aspects of life don't have their own roles in which we do not control, but what about the control we do possess?

With that mindset, I'm, currently, just doing what I want. I laugh in spite of that statement, like I am somehow in defiance over the world... like I am snubbing my nose at chores that beckon to be done, at work that requires this deadline... these are factors that I choose to accept as a reality I created, but right now I'm having more fun simply doing it on my time frame. I can't tell if this is controlled by my inner child or inner rebel, either way, it's nice to put down the facade of pretending I can juggle when juggling is more of an Olympic sport.

I've been busy contemplating some shifts in class material, finished teaching a class a couple of weeks ago that I really love teaching, but I am always finding it challenging to squeeze nearly a week's worth of material in two days. It's adapting the concept of "pick the best, leave the rest". The exciting piece was that after class had ended on the second day, I came home and started to channel this vision of the intensive that we're planning at the school. My director seems to like the outline of it, and while I know this is a collaboration of both views, I'm keeping handy the vision that came forth for future endeavors.

I spent a good day or two after class with a fairly sore throat. I don't utilize my outer voice much in daily life. Communication, outside of immediate family and friends, is done in what we're more accustomed to in this world: email; texting; Facebooking... it's connection in a way that leaves us more disconnected in soulful relationships, but it's connection as we know it now. I'm guilty of it, of simply "liking" a status and that somehow means that my relationship with someone is still thriving. Pathetic really, but I play a role in it as well.

As a result, two days straight of constant talking is not something my vocal chords are used to, so I come home with my throat being tired and my voice done. This also speaks to on-going throat chakra issues that I continue to work through, but I know that the "balance" in communication can't be limited to inner voice utilization, but rather composing more refined moments of outer communication. This is a challenge for those who enjoy more hermit-like living... such as myself. I enjoy the quiet. I'm not a "crowd" person. The larger the crowd, the smaller my voice. Not "small" in fear or power-over -- I experienced that for years and found ways to shift it. It's simply "smaller" in that I retreat to comforting moments of observation vs active participation. There is some interesting experiences when you take on the challenge of "fake it 'til you make it". What a funny world we live in sometimes...

We were without power last week for 14 hours when a powerful wind storm hit New England. A few hours before the wind started to reach its climax, I was thinking about the power of Air. Air with its relationship with communication, with truth, with speech... I started to think of classes I teach, about the utilization of my outer voice, about my avid need for journaling, utilizing my inner voice... then I thought about personal truth... there were so many thoughts, just sitting there, listening to the rain come down, thinking about Water, about love, about divinity, about its connection to Air and Wisdom... all of these thoughts piggy-backing off of the other, and the more I started to think about the center piece of personal truth, the harder the wind began to blow. Trees were swaying back and forth, the wind was howling, really howling, and I felt like my own personal climax of thought was approaching...

Then the power blew. And we were without power for 14 hours while I thought about Air and personal truth, and my own reflection in that connection.

There were many strands that night, beyond that simple paragraph above; the strands found themselves coming to one common ground: something I had heard in a podcast a couple of months before. I remember listening to this interview when this one question was asked: What is the message of your life? I literally stopped dead in my tracks and paused the podcast.

What is the message of your life?

It had a great effect on me. I haven't revisited it in depth as I would like (potential avoidance there?), but I have thought of it often. There is potential avoidance there. I spoke with my spiritual mother the other day about this piece, how for years it was the general "what's the purpose of my life" question that held reign. I remember being in an intuitive development class once and asking this very same question to my Higher Self. The instructor had us blindly pick books, using our intuitive sense to decide if that particular book we were holding held the answer to our question. Then in repeating this question to ourselves once more, we opened the book to a 'random' page, placed our finger where the answer was, opened our eyes and read.

That was nearly 9 years ago, and while I do have the answer written down in whatever journal I was on that year, I don't recall the exact answer, but the core of it was "there purpose of life is living, beyond that there is no purpose." There was natural ease in the answer. It went deeper into the meaning of life and how life is not meaningless for it never actually had meaning... my perspective then looked at it from a neutral standpoint. My perspective now still sees the neutrality in it, like a blank canvas... a series of blank canvases... creation in motion, one painting, one aspect of life, doesn't define all of your artwork (your life).

That book exercise is still one I practice to this day. I love the synchronicity life presents, and the constant symbols and messages that are revealed daily.

The past few days I have taken some time to ignore my work and obligations and focus on the safety and healing of Chileans from the massive earthquake. My brother is in Chile now. The day after getting our power back from our own wind storm my father called to tell me of the earthquake and we both silently panicked about my brother, wondering if he was ok, was he one of the injured, or worse, one of the dead. It was a good several painful hours of "what if" playing over and over, each circumstance getting worse with each passing hour. Thankfully, we heard from him, and he is fine. He slept through the earthquake (as only my brother would!) and is now trying to find any way to get home. Most of the family has been accounted for, while there are still many on my father's side we haven't heard from yet, but some of them are without power or even a phone... it certainly puts daily life into perspective. Looking around this room, all this "stuff"... empty moments sometimes trickle through, and lack of regard or compassion for even gratitude can plague even the best of us at any moment. I'm hearing this one line from a song a friend wrote, "I am so lucky indeed"... the context of the song is quite different and the "lucky" aspect hardly feels lucky in the larger scheme, but the mere line alone rings in my head, gratefully.

An emotionally exhausting weekend, I feel like I am easily losing track of the days this week, which is fine, thankfully there's nothing dire awaiting my attention. Right now I have been focusing on some upcoming workshops I am putting together, which is slightly different for me in the sense of the time frame of these workshops. I teach 2-day classes on subjects, or day-long ones. It's been quite some time since I have done a "workshop" in the 2-3 hour sense. It's good practice to return to this venue, though. Not many people have the time or the finances to do the longer classes, and I have been told by so many over the years of how people want to take classes with me, but I can understand how difficult it can be to shell out $250 for a 2-day class when other financial obligations await. Doing these workshops will allow others to take a class, feel a sense of connection to personal enrichment while not breaking the bank or worries of creating time in their own busy lives to have two straight days off.

The other up side to this is that I will feel more prepared when teaching for the Temple in terms of the time frame piece. Christopher has asked that they be 2-3 hours as well, as he's thinking of plugging them in just before Sabbats, or as a lecture series should I want to do something that requires more than an evening. It's more growth, more opportunity to put myself out there. I can feel the butterflies flutter in my stomach, the familiar nerves when teaching arises. Good nerves, though. I think it keeps my reality and ego in check. I like healthy nerves. Confidence is great, I lacked it in this department for quite some time and had to dive head in before really cultivating that full self-esteem in teaching, but I think it was best routed this way for me. I don't know that I would feel "good" about going into a class without that usual nervousness. For me it reminds me that I still have much to learn, even in the area of the work I do, there's still always more to learn. As I've told my students, I am up there in the front of the room as the instructor, sharing something that I have practiced and am passionate about, but in my classroom I am not the sole teacher. As I teach them, they teach me and each other. I really believe in that piece. I honor that everyone comes into a room with gifts that are worth sharing. I've had some amazing teachers along the years who have taken this approach and made me feel like my voice mattered, and for someone who has had perpetual voice "issues", this is a beautiful and empowering gift to share.

)0(

Rising to the surface (anger) through receptive love

2010-02-16T12:42:00.000-05:00

What started off as a heart-filled week of practice in receiving love has now brought to the surface the old, clogged, murky shit that I had kept so well-hidden, so deeply buried that I even fooled myself into thinking it was cleared. The awakening of only some of that has been somewhat shocking, somewhat of a relief, but mostly manifesting itself as anger. Deeply rooted anger at/for/with Self, which all sits partnered in the manifestation of fear.

Last month I was processing through fear, making it a point to invite it to the surface, not so I could secretly pounce and attack, but really understand where it's coming from, why I place so much emphasis on believing I "need" to keep it, and what it really wants. What is the purpose of this fear? In some ways it served a purpose, was there for a reason, but sometimes those reasons no longer hold true, but instead of sending it away with love, I kept it there, prisoner, then simply ignoring and/or forgetting about it. All in the same, I simply chose to turn the other cheek and continue on with something that grew and grew.

This week I have been busy listening to the dharma talks from the Margha program, getting a chance to speak with my Mitra (friend/mentor) who I connected with instantly. She's a great spirit and it's incredibly helpful to have someone to speak to who has gone through this process themselves.

I shared with her the early weeks of doing the practice, the abundance of love that I was feeling and connecting to, recognizing these various benefactors I hadn't really realized were there, and thinking of what Lama John had said, about how the greatest gift you can give isn't to give love, but to receive it. It's why, after all, we focus on so many hours of this practice, because of the gift to receive, and the reality is, many of us are just not prone to receiving, not on the deeper level.

I thought my acceptance in receiving love was fine, it was there, that I had no real issues with it. On the surface, no, I didn't. The beginning aspects of my revisits to this practice from year's past, from this perspective in time, was met with gratitude of this love. Then I found myself getting squirmy... started to look at my relationship with love, and when excuses are gone, you reflect fully within... FULLY within... it's not terrifying, it's just... real. It's there. The reality of the reveal itself can be terrifying, but the process of reflection in that moment was simply about the reality of being in the moment and doing it. It wasn't about seeing Self as Goddess -- I've done that, this was about seeing Self as Self. I think in some ways we need to come to terms with who we are before we can identify with who we are as divinity.

The other day I'm sitting there, in meditation, listening to the talks, bringing up benefactors, receiving love... and then there was this intense, instantaneous moment of self-awareness... I was angry. The anger that came up wasn't dysfunctional anger, this may be hard to translate, but the best way I can describe it was sort of like a new-born, the freshness in this atmosphere but brought with confusion because of the new-ness compared to where it had previously existed.

So, I meditated on that anger, communing with the Goddess, asking Her to gently reveal those aspects that have been hidden, and encouraging me to allow it to rise to the surface. I could feel myself drift in meditation, instead of dealing with it simply letting it to do its own thing while I journeyed to another realm for escape (translated to self as: safety). I heard the Goddess' encouragement to stay with it, that it wouldn't harm, so I stayed, and the revelation made me want to cry, scream, throw up... all in good ways, I promise, even if in the moment it felt anything but "good". It felt disgusting.

I felt disgusting.

To admit that to yourself... to immerse yourself into something that feels so disgusting, so gross, so vial to who you are or who you believe to be is a process I think that requires help, be it help from a facilitator who knows what they are doing, your guides, or the Divine Ones who cradle the space in sacredness.

The past couple of days the anger has risen, in bits and pieces, mostly blindly now, not in intent of finding it, but in allowance for the reveal. I must clarify that this isn't something that is being done in harm, it's anger rising in revelation, each piece like the proverbial puzzle, as I peel off its translucent layers I'm discovering where it has all come from... where it has ALL come from... it's the piece of the buried puzzle I have long since buried and convinced myself that I was at peace with it. Then, I was, but not from the core.

I feel sort of heavy in this process, but in many ways I know I have asked for this. This isn't shadow work, no, I've done that before, healed so much through my work with my shadow self. I'm not looking to define what the actual process is, but I am documenting it as I work through it... the avid journaler, nothing does undocumented, ha.

The reality is that instead of trying to "fight" planetary retrogrades, such as Mars currently still in retrograde, I'm utilizing this time to not only recognize what comes up during this time, but actually work on the identification as a fundamental process, then release and integration/transformation/transmutation (whatever the issue that arises requires), and it feels much more productive than simply pointing my finger and saying "well this is because Mars is in retrograde so when it goes direct everything will be fine". It's a "return" to choice -- I think that's what much of the retrogrades bring up for us; what we will choose during this time.

)0(

Building foundation

2010-02-06T23:05:00.000-05:00

Taking some time to catch up after the day-long Temple Leadership Retreat. I never get tired of them, wishing I had more availability in my schedule to take time out to do more of them, each one is a new experience, new moment of self-discovery, and moments of connecting and reconnecting. Today was a different retreat than those I normally tend to participate in, but it was a good different.

Gathering together with the other ministries and getting to hear first hand what the intention is, who the faces were behind each of these pillars was quite exciting. The brainstorming, the collective conscious, the respect that was shared in that room today was empowering, and really gratifying to be a part of. I was so impressed with everyone's thoughts and how far the Temple has come and the excitement of where it will be going.

We had a lot of time to talk, to experience, and follow-up with ritual by the end of the retreat. I hadn't yet decided, by the time the retreat began, as to what ministry I'd like to work in. When the initial questionnaire came out I was choosing between three: Ministry of Sagittarius - The Teacher, for the obvious choice in that I am an instructor already and it's something I find I more easily gravitate towards and further workings on the philosophy of Witchcraft excited me; then there was the Ministry of Cancer - The Mother, which had other areas, aside from the fact that I am a Mother both in physical form but in this aspect of the Triple Goddess in my life right now, but also because of my passion towards womyn's mysteries, as well as my (somewhat surprising to myself) leaning towards children's education within the Craft. It's a natural tendency to bring Nimue up in a tradition that I most resonate with and one that we practice as a family, and it made me look deeper into the religion as we could share it with children; not as dogmatic rule, but as a way of practice, something that can so easily flow for children with their beginner mind and openness without pre-program. Then the final choice I was considering was Ministry of Scorpio - The Guardian. In particular, working with people and families to help cross over veil and their transition between the worlds. I owe my interest in part to both Jonathan and Amy for this -- mostly Amy, who wanted me to be there to help cross her over and the gift and lesson she presented me with when I was able to do that for her brought home the purpose of ministerial service and how as Priestesses we must remind ourselves that what flows from Her is also something that returns and flows back to Her. It's easy to get caught in one aspect over the other. I was also interested in the sacred sexuality aspect.

So, with that in mind, I came to the retreat open, knowing I would possibly dip my feet in other aspects of the ministry as a whole, but really wanting to have a foundational focus for my work and purpose there within the Temple. I felt confident that by the day's end that I would have a clearer vision of where I wanted to lend myself to, and in part I do have more clarity.

The end of the workshop aspect brought us to the evening ritual where we journeyed to learn more and gather more information on our role in the Temple. Here I received a really interesting message, letters and a number, just a single number, it could have read like a license plate. There were other aspects within the journey that became clearer and clearer, but I had no idea what these letters represented, and I had this moment where in my journey I smiled to myself remember the simplistic, yet powerful, approach to receiving an answer to a question: just ask.

And so I did.

My power animal told me what the letters represented and how it affects where I will place my main area of focus within a particular pillar. I love how when you allow ego to step out of it and you and spirit are attuned to one another, the information just easily soars. That journey, specifically, gave me more insight as to where my purpose in the Temple might be.

I took a moment before leaving to thank Christopher for inviting me to be part of the leadership with all of the other wonderful witches he had gathered today. It was comforting and affirming to hear him tell me how in his vision of gathering those he could trust and who he felt could be an asset to the Temple that I was one of those people. Amazing to reflect back over 8 years ago when we met, he and I having small correspondence via email and getting a chance to meet him at the first (and only) NH PPD he did and walking up to him telling him I wanted him to marry me and Drac... he had just recently become ordained and hadn't really told anyone yet. I firmly believe my presence at that year's PPD was to meet him.

From there I wanted to study with him but had myself so committed to BFC it just didn't seem appropriate or right timing. Sounds so familiar now, with Lama Surya, and yet, it took me some time, but years later I am studying with Christopher and actively part of the Temple organization he has co-founded.

This all comes together nicely as Imbolc is only a few days behind us, but the energy of beginnings is still fostering itself and lingering about. I had the workshop with Lama Willa that I really enjoyed. It was a short event but produced this really amazing moment of connecting to an understanding (within that very moment, this is key: present awareness) about the past.

"The past is the past... let it go"... how many times do we hear this? More often than not it's said in malice, in anger, in frustration... we, as a culture, hold onto the past, with white-knuckled grips, and we carry it with us, from moment to moment, sometimes adding to the story that has already been played, but hearing to "let it go" from a place of love and of ease and of natural wisdom was refreshing. I was in a place where I was ready to hear it in its simplistic form, and I was able to internalize it in a way I hadn't allowed myself before.

In listening to the dharma talks from the retreat I wasn't able to attend last month, it's been so eye-openly awakening that it even has me going "holy shit". Truly, these are not "new" concepts; the lamas would be the first to tell you this, but there is something about hearing it in a way that you hadn't really "heard" or "listened" to is incredibly empowering.

With the pleasant exhaustion that comes from each retreat I do, I am blissfully ready for beautiful sleep. I want to allow my being to internalize this information of today while I sleep. I love these kinds of days.

)0(

The inward student

2010-01-29T14:53:00.000-05:00

In this "time between time", it's nearly surprising to imagine that Imbolc is nearly here. I can taste the continued efforts of the light's return, the gentle awakening of the earth as She nourishes... I feel the sense of initiatory transformation occurring in the land, and that translates to my own initiatory transformation as well.

I don't have a specific intention in mind for next month, though I do feel like Imbolc is bringing a sigh of relief, in that nourishing and connecting way the Mother embraces us. I feel Her arms open in invitation, and I'd love to lay in her lap and listen to the breeze inspire me... part of how it is manifesting this year is in the Margha Program that I have decided to take part in this year with the Natural Dharma Fellowship. I have been wanting to study with Lama Surya for years, and at some point I know the moment will present itself, for now it doesn't seem to be the time, and I am content with that. I have been making it a point to continue studying and taking part in other retreats, the last being the one Lama John did when I was in Northampton and needed to leave early for news of Jonathan. Still, Lama John's practice of love and compassion has opened me up to a different, non attached way of viewing and accepting (and ultimately giving/sharing) love in a way I didn't actually know existed.

I've only done a couple of events with Lama Willa, the founder teacher of NDF, and have liked her energy and her compassion that I felt drawn to inquire about this program last year, though it had already started. This year it came up quicker than I had thought, and the focus of the year fits in exactly with where I am at, what I am wanting to cultivate and embrace within myself, and ultimately incorporate this in all aspects of my life, alongside my work with Christopher and the Temple tradition; the Synergy program; the Shamanic work; etc. It all mirrors each other, lending a tool to one another.

"The Margha Program this year will focus on deepening self compassion as a doorway to developing love and compassion for others. We will also explore, in depth, the relationship between love and wisdom, the integration of loving kindness into everyday relationships, and how to take adversity as a path."

It's the answer of calling from my questions to the Goddess at the end of last year, especially after November, that long "time" of introspection had me in deeper contemplation about compassion directly towards others. It does reflect to Self in sharing and giving love to ourselves first, in order to understand and share/give that love to others, and for me this is another extension of that process and journey.

I'll actually be seeing Lama Willa on Sunday for her workshop "Everyday Dharma" which I am looking forward to. February is already proving to be filled with some amazing events and I have been privileged to be asked to attend several amazing events with some amazing instructors... unfortunately as I have not yet figured out a way to successfully clone myself, I'm going with events that directly call to my purpose at this time, though still wishing I could somehow be two places at once.

I had a talk with Drac today about my "need" to be the "perpetual student" instead of embracing the role of teacher more. Ouch... but touche. I am the perpetual student. Part of it is a desire to learn more, to integrate new ways of reaching that essence of enlightenment for Self... the other part is probably just excuses to focus too far inward and not enough outwardly. It's almost a contradiction of what we're used to in this society, how others delve too far in the outer realm and not bothering to focus on the inner journey. I'm all about the inner journey, sometimes "too much". I wouldn't label it or identify it as discordant or even dysfunctional, because there is purpose there, but I know that if I let myself be "out" there more, have my sense of presence and sharing my knowledge more than I do in such a confined sort of way, then it would have more benefit, at least to myself. It would be far too egotistical to speak for anyone else.

Part of the teaching opens that area up, to be more outward, to focus on functional Centrifugal as Kamala would put it. I've been thinking a lot about the Four Forces lately. Before Jonathan's death, Kamala had been visiting me in my dreams frequently, speaking about the Four Forces, as though we were still continuing with the personal training, and on some dimension I'm sure we were. We're, in essence, not continuing those classes at DoveStar any more, and I agree, to a certain extent, with that decision. Even when Kamala had been training me, this is her baby, her life. She was the one who channeled this information after her near-deaths, she was the one who put this system together, trial and error, heart and soul, it doesn't belong to anyone else. There are some other wonderful instructors who have taught this alongside her, and I was privileged to be asked to be one of them. She felt I understood the process, lived the journey, but I had doubts about explaining that to another, in a way that would work for them.

In the end, the training and the mentoring was a true gift, but I knew I could never take it over. I just couldn't. It's sad to see it go, to know other generations won't get the "same" information, but I'm glad that there is at least a recording legacy of her work to be carried on. In the meantime, I need to go through the site and see if the Inner classes need to be altered in their description at all. She handed those classes over to me -- extensions of the Four Forces in depth -- and, oddly enough, I had no problem taking this aspect. I felt like if she kept the core of the work then the outer layers could be emphasized by others who were true to the material, so in that respect I had no problem with her handing these four classes over to me.

Still, even on Sunday when I returned to the school, walking up those steps with an energy that paralleled the past... it sounds cliche and over-used to say how "amazing" it is to see the progression of self, but it's true, it is amazing. I had no voice then. Walking through the door the first time, taking those first few classes, I was standing in a darkness that told me my voice had no worth, so I shielded it, not just from everyone else, but from myself. And now... an instructor. Even the memories of my growth there, from connections to disharmonious ones, they all have this place in my heart that either nurtures it or sort of tenderizes it. We can judge one being "better than" the other, but they're both purposeful.

I thought of some of the tender and nurturing moments, most stemming from one source, in the quiet of that cold Sunday morning, and I laughed in spite of myself. We sometimes think we're going to hold onto things "forever"... but that forever molds itself in different shapes, and sometimes those shapes just don't carry with you in the next moments.

How did those shapes feel so defining then, and now only seem... like a distant memory?

I suppose it's part of the growth, part of the acceptance and part of the release, and, in thinking of what Kamala would say: I stepped out of the C/C Loop. I did. The interesting part of looking back on a dance is that when you are in Gravity the dance has nothing but visual memory. The emotional attachment is outside of you, as you view it from the inside out, it spirals around, and you can see it, you know what it felt like, but you're not in it to experience the emotional aspects of it, in either degree of "good" or "bad", you're simply the observer, completely neutral.

I've returned to Centripetal as of my birthday last year: outward focus. The Margha Program and W2 allow me to experience the entire force as a whole, but it also has me tapping into the momentum of the inward/Centripetal energies.

)0(

Discovering the truth about F-E-A-R

2010-01-26T18:00:00.000-05:00

January has been a time of non-time. I admit that while I'm not always the most linear person, I do have awareness of time, in general, than I give myself credit for. This wasn't even about linear or non linear time, it's been an out of universe time... if that makes sense. I have been so grounded outside of myself, feeling like much of my being has been extending itself beyond this realm, I have been in this mental universe of observation. Different observation than I am used to. It was clear, quiet, numb in a way that isn't dysfunctional, almost deafening. It's been strange, and it borders on crazy, a good crazy, but a disconnected kind of crazy... I've been taking this month to connect with Self, but in that process I know I have been disconnecting from others. No one in particular, simply everything as I keep both hands firmly on my inner cord, looking for the source of direction, passion, the ultimate wonder of purpose. It feels like it's slightly shifted, but the foundation seemingly remains the same.

I've been journaling a lot the past few weeks... a lot. Much of January has been so in-depth of diving head first into fear, it's been such a long month. I didn't care what the fear was, if it was big or small, if it had cords attached to other fears... it didn't matter, I was ready to dive in blindly, and so I did.

What did I discover?

F-E-A-R... deeper than I imagined, deeply embedded, no label attached or direction for use... it was fear. Multi-layered, mosaic-patterned, rainbows of colors that ranged from deeply bright and intoxicating to dark and muddy and dangerous... I think, in general, this isn't the wisest approach for one to take. I advocate to my students and clients that it's a process of peeling away at the layers bit by bit. Don't look at the whole, look at the part, without judgment of size, and go from there. The mockery of the saying "do as I say, not as I do" dances around foolishly here...

However, this was my approach. I felt ready, needing to take a dive without any equipment by my side, though the reality is I had it naturally there. The thing about losing people around you is that you take time to reevaluate your life, your purpose, your connection, then, at some point, you potentially forget about it, return to old ways, old behaviors, old thought patterns, and it's as though nothing has shifted. Jonathan and Amy are still on my mind, the human aspect of myself reflecting back on linear time of age and sequence of life... I mourned, I rejoiced, I shattered, I celebrated... but did I learn?

In many ways, yes. In others? I let the fear convince me I was, when I soulfully knew better.

So I dived. Head first, bare feet, into what I told myself was unknown territory within, but it's a manifestation of me, my life, my fears, my desires, my karma, my pain, it all comes from me. Granted some could be taken on from other people, old programs, even old thievery of something I thought I identified with but perhaps really didn't. Still, it's mine, I wasn't expecting to be surprised, I was hoping to be awake.

I can't say that I uncovered all of it, it would be foolish and completely egotistical to even think I could uncover all these years in this lifetime of fear. No, I didn't uncover it all, but I uncovered an aspect that I really, honestly didn't know I had buried there.

It's odd to say that the thing you fear scares you, but that the discovery of that fear wasn't scary. It wasn't scary like a masked horror following you around (then again I do scare fairly easy there!); it was painful though. I didn't anticipate the pain, this wound that would open up and seep from the inside out. I was wearing my fear. I almost felt paranoid in it, like others could see it, hear it, perhaps taste it and judge me. I don't care much for judgment, but let's face it, it's there, I think to some degree we all wonder. Wonderment isn't the same as obsession.

The paranoia was good. It was. It was good in that I needed to face it. I felt ready to address it in the form it took, but that process was slower, like walking through sticky sludge, my feet felt slower, my legs struggling, my arms free, however, to hold on, to stop myself in my tracks, but I kept looking, kept asking, kept being...

Part of my journey into rebirth is a journey through fear as well. It's not to give power to the fear; it had power. It's discovery and awareness, perhaps even re-discovery. The "out-of-universe" feeling makes more sense with the delving. The experience isn't to be confused with darkness. It wasn't dark. There was darkness there, and it had remnants of pain, emotional pain that was attached to it, but that pain wasn't... painful. It makes no sense, in the written word, in the relay of the experience, and I don't want to attach words to an experience that might shift the core of its purpose: discovery.

I'm processing through it, in this dimension of reality, because this is where, currently, it affects me most. Granted the other day in a fit from the inner rebel (even inner child), I threw my hands in the air and declared it all "bullshit". It was a funny moment, a light-hearted and sarcastic approach to healing.

)0(

"Bloodtime Moontime Dreamtime"

2010-01-16T15:15:00.000-05:00

Last month I was sent a DVD to review, "Bloodtime Moontime Dreamtime: Women Bringing Forth Change" by Roberta Cantow, and it is probably one of the best things I have been sent to review in quite some time. While this isn't a post about the review itself, the documentary gave me such a vast appreciation for womyn who embraced their blood mysteries and were willing to share it with others. I was inspired and wishing I had seen this last week when my own blood was here.

One of the systers from ADC is actually in the documentary which was a treat to watch her share her wisdom among the other brilliant contributors to this powerful piece. What really captivated me in the beginning piece was the imagery and contradiction of violent blood and how often we see it, even encourage it, in modern film and yet a mere mention of a womyn's blood becomes something disgusting and shameful and not to be spoken of. While I think this is no true secret, to take a moment and step back and review, just in film for example, just how prolific blood really is... blood in war; blood in murder; blood in mythological storytelling (such as vampires); blood in murder; blood in rape... these are things we, sadly, see too much of, but a mention or a viewing of blood in menarche; blood in childbirth; blood in ritual; blood poured over fertile land in celebration and honor... that becomes taboo, and our society encourages the secrecy and shame of it.

In the second portion there was a womyn who shared a passage from her journal of her menarche, and it was just incredibly moving to watch her read this passage and speak of taking time for a "bleeding day", how it connects her to her grandmother, to her mother, to her young girl self and the powerful message of "I don't have to be sick to go there" was such an enlightening moment.

I think of days spent in bed when sick, when overly tired trying to get caught up on just a little bit of rest, for lovemaking, even those moments where I snuggle with my daughter, covering us up under the blanket and telling her stories or simply for "tickle torture" sessions that have become the norm. All valid reasons for hanging in the bed, but I don't remember taking a "bleeding day" since childhood, and even then it was more for cramps and pain that I believed was simply part of the process of our blood.

I take rest during my moontime now, to not really do any work, to just reflect and relax and be... the simply gift of being, but as womyn we convince ourselves that we don't have the time or simply can't, for one reason or another, and we continue to put ourselves on the back-burner of life. But a "bleeding day"? Brilliant. I can see myself laying in bed, journal nearby, book to read, perhaps if I still had a television in my room I could spend time laughing with my daughter watching "Ellen"... though the "bleeding day" isn't indicative of laying in bed all day, simply to honor ourselves for the blood we release...

I loved the messages of connection that was expressed, how our blood connects us not only to our ancestors, but to our future as well. It is a constant cycle of beauty, but if you look at other womyn who have hurt, trauma, anger, or sadness associated with their blood, it's anything but beautiful.

One womyn on the film said something to the effect of how you sort of program your experience of your blood based on your mother's expression when you had your first blood... how true. It's not to say that later we can't reprogram it, but imagine how much pain and trauma we could save ourselves if the expression we received was in joy?

I was quite fortunate, my mother's expression of my menarche was of utter joy and celebration. She made it a day completely about me, and I looked at blood beautifully, though slightly strangely as an 8-9 year first bleeding.

Yes, I was quite young, younger than all of my friends, even my sister, or my mother who first bled at the late age of 19. It was a strange place to be, as someone who hadn't even developed breasts yet bleeding so early. So early... I did attach some embarrassment there, needing to wear pads at an age where girls could hop into a pool without concern, their "innocent" and naive nature still in tact, while my father's horror stories of needing to "be careful" around boys added a slight sheer of terror. Then again, he hadn't expected to have "the talk" with his 8-9 year old daughter who had gotten her first period the day before their vacation away...

I remember days making my 6 year old sister go to the store to buy pads. I figured the male clerk would know, would look at me in that way my father had told me boys would, and I was terrified. I can still remember, in mock horror now, my father talking about the "scent" that attracts boys. It's true in all animals, but at that age one clearly does not want to hear this from their father, though in retrospect it does give me something to laugh about now, as an adult womyn. He meant well, but that horror stuck with me for a while.

One of the things I found most interesting was this one author speaking about how she came to an acceptance and love for her moontime and how that ceased her cramping. It's quite true. I really don't have cramps anymore, and if I do, it's my body's way of reconnecting me to what's going on inside that I may not be paying attention to. While I admit I'm not one of those diva-cup wearing, pouring the stored blood into the earth womyn, I do have great reverence for my blood, and I honor the connection it brings me spiritually within this world and beyond at that beautiful time. I can't imagine those that take special pills to get it only 4 times a year... it's release of toxins, it's spiritual connectivity, it's a beautiful mystery of wombynhood... we've become a society poisoned by patriarchy that we don't speak about our moontime, that our blood is ugly and shameful instead of beautiful and powerful...

I'm grateful to not have had the experience of being shamed from the beginning for my menarche, but instead celebrated for entering into wombynhood, even at the tender age of 8-9. It brings fond memories and ones that I hope to cherish and share with my own daughter in ritual when the time comes.

I was incredibly inspired by this documentary, and I felt my own matrix shifting and shaping once more within my universe, especially with the final piece of "Creating Art and Ritual". It's been a while since I have taken paint to canvas. A system of release, I had abandoned writing for a while in favor of expression through visual art. It was incredibly healing. My art itself has shifted with more focus on the written word, but watching that aspect of the documentary reminded me of just how much I miss that expressive art, in that manner. It's still there, still utilized, but not nearly as much as I would like.

I'm encouraged that a documentary like this is out, for others to experience and nurture, to honor and celebrate, and to heal within themselves, and collectively as womyn. It pieced together so delicately the truth of each womyn being One womyn, and their brave stories open the pathway to healing themselves as well as healing each other. That is what sisterhood and community is all about. It's facilitation in a beautiful dance that connects one to the other to the other... I long to see that dance emerge more fluidly in our world, though we have some great dancers weaving that web now...

)0(

Stripping it away

2010-01-12T17:47:00.000-05:00

I've been combating this possible cold that has been sniffing around me for weeks now, and while it's been common that once my birthday arrives I generally fall ill, the mentality that it's part of my annual cleanse, however this year I was determined to rise above the need to cleanse in a physical manner that required me to have a fever, stuffy nose and feeling like death under layers of blankets. No, this year I wouldn't get sick... yesterday I wasn't too sure. Feeling feverish, head all foggy, I was sure the inevitable would happen, and part of me felt like maybe it was a good excuse for some much needed mental rest to re-access some things I've been mentally working on shifting. Maybe the potential cold would do me a favor in the moment...

Where was much of the discomfort of this potential cold stemming from? The throat. Why am I not surprised? I have a long relationship with my throat, stemming from birth where I was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around my throat, turning me blue... even then, a carry-over from the previous life of throat chakra issues came in tow through utero, and it's something I still work on keeping open, flowing, loving, vibrating in a way that serves instead of imprison. It's quite rare, now, that my throat acts up as it used to. In those moments of actively working on communication with Self and standing in the center of my own authenticity, yes, it's rare to have my throat feel abandoned or ignored or manipulated.

However, for about the past week it's been slowly acting up. Throat "frogging" up when trying to speak, the constant need to clear my throat, others asking over and over if I was sick, listening to my voice lose itself day by day... what wasn't I saying? Was there a truth that needed to be spoken?

I'm an avid journaler as anyone who really knows me knows too well. It's not quite the same as blogging, this is seductive illusion through the hand-written word, perfect and enticing, my favorite form of connection to self. I've been journaling a lot the past few days, peeling away more layers that have surfaced. Nothing "big", but then again there's no room for measurement in spiritual journeys. "Big" or "small" is indifferent, it's about the process of what becomes from these layers revealed.

I had no immediate answers, none that really spoke to me about why my throat was acting up. Fear, yes, that was an obvious, but fear of what? Not the "usual" fear -- it wasn't painful, just there. I wasn't upset I couldn't identify it, I knew in time it would be revealed, in fact I was probably more patient this time than in years before. I didn't "need" to know the answer, I just wanted to understand what area of myself felt like it was, well, trapped of sorts.

My friend Amy who had passed so suddenly in November had been on my mind a lot. Her and Jonathan in fact, both for different reasons, both making my heart ache and feeling this sort of instant panic about loss. I'm not use to that kind of loss, and I felt like a small child afraid she would never see anyone again. I think to some degree I still feel that way. It's another layer of healing that has surfaced, but that's not what this was about necessarily.

Amy had come to me last week in this clear vision reminding me of her best friend, J. J and I met years ago, took an instant liking and connection to each other, he was the one who introduced Amy to me. Both commenting on how much of a teacher I felt to them on this path... both giving me too much credit for not recognizing that a great bulk of their personal work was a reflection of their own inner light. Though I appreciate their gratitude immensely.

J had been falling into a downward spiral since Amy's death. I had no idea. No, that's not entirely true. I suspected this would happen. Sitting in the ICU with him and L and Amy, she was so clear there, even in that unconscious state, that her death would be harmful for him, to him and those around him. I knew this was a potential, hoped it wouldn't come to this, and was in my own mourning of the people I had lost, trying to "balance" everything when really I was simply ignoring it all. I just needed to figure out where I was -- after all, healing must begin with the self.

I received a message from J's fiance, L, telling me about what had been going on, how he had a dream, the same day I had my vision of Amy, that she came to him telling him to contact me. He doesn't know me very well, in fact we have only met twice, but this was a clear message he didn't ignore, as J had always told him if anything should happen that I should be notified immediately... and so I was.

Yesterday, feeling at my worst with this potential cold attempting to override my system, J called me. It had been 2 days since I had spoken with L, two days since leaving J a message on his phone, 2 days of waiting and hoping.

The conversation lasted 3 hours, much to my throat's slight aggravation over the constant overuse of energy it wasn't necessarily willing to extend, but in the end, it was exactly what my throat needed. That conversation was for both of us. Me listening, understanding where he was at, because I can really only understand something that makes sense to me if I have, to some degree, been through it myself.

It was clear that sharing those layers, these truths that I have slowly opened up about, was what he most needed to hear. A dear friend has heard some of them recently, but still, it's not an advertised truth. It's personal, it's fear, it's shame...

It's shame.

Who generously shares their shame with others? Not as a toxic poison to throw at someone else and make it about them, convincing them that your shame is really theirs, or theirs to blame... a personal shame that is shared as awareness... as a method of healing. Whose healing? It's universal.

Part of the reason why much of my work has been so focused on womyn's empowerment is because it's part of my own truth of empowering myself, and I feel strongly about sharing those steps and tools with other womyn. It's not to negate men's mysteries, for I have worked with men with similar steps, but naturally womyn's mysteries is what I lean towards.

The sharing of the story, of the self-proclaimed (illusionary and judgmental) "shame", is something the Goddess has been asking me to be open with. It's healing, for me, clearly as evidence of last night's conversation and today feeling as though there was never a throat issue to begin with, but also for others, in non-ego, just from those who have relayed what my own journey has meant for them, in discovering and uncovering their own personal truths.

I've received several emails the past two weeks about how "inspirational" my words are and how healing they have been... I admit to having moments of shock there. I think in this framework I often question why I bother, in this form, to share those aspects. Not so much a "what's the point" mentality, but simply this question of why. Then I let it go and focus on my own truth.

Do I fear the judgment? To some extent, I think there is natural fear in not wanting others to judge you in a way that makes you "wrong". Then again, we're the only ones who can really make ourselves wrong... and when deciding to make ourselves anything, why wouldn't we simply choose spirit? Why wouldn't I choose spirit?

J spent a near hour crying at my story. Crying, because, in part, he could see his own story there, and, to some degree, I know it made the world of difference to hear it outside of himself. There's this universal aspect where, as human beings, we naturally want to be understood by someone. Some One. One. It's human nature. And in sharing it, it makes me more human.

I'm human. I have flaws. I have imperfections. I have stories I'm not proud of. I have stories that make me sick, make me angry, make me scared. Of course, the opposite is true as well. It's not simply about the shadow, it's a balance in light as well. It doesn't matter how spiritual you are. I think some of the most amazing spiritual beings I have met on this planet have been those who have willingly (and not at times) faced their shadows head on. Not with ego in mind, not with an ounce of anything to prove, but simply because at some point we must. You either play the same tapes over and over, or you choose to record something new.

As I said to J last night, that aspect of myself is still someone I know, I recognize her, but I'm not her. There is an important difference there.

It felt like layers being stripped away last night. The deeper message of my throat chakra needing to speak my truth wasn't something I identified as that being the truth needing to be spoken. And maybe it didn't need to be shared outside of myself, with anyone, but I trusted that's where I was being led, and in the end I am grateful, for the voice that allowed the story to come through, to myself for the willingness to not be afraid of something that might sound shameful, and to J, for holding the space to receive the story as he needed to hear it, and as I needed to say it.

Today? My throat feels great.

)0(

Birthday rites

2010-01-08T12:23:00.000-05:00

The final aspect of the new year (in that triplicity I spoke about before) has arrived -- celebrated my birthday on Tuesday.

After taking the few days before to look back on the previous calendar year, and looking at the patterns of where things have been carried over functionally, and what I have carried over from a dysfunctional behavioral pattern. Thankfully not much, but there are, naturally, areas I'm still working on, such as compassion and truly seeing the Divine in each and every human being, not being selective in the moment or telling myself I will and then get caught up in the idle gossip around me. Perhaps another reason why I'm just not into group environments. Open the moments of the lull and gossip ensues around. I think to some degree we're all guilty of it, and even if my role in it is conceivably small, it's still a role I don't wish to participate in.

I took the evening after putting Nimue to bed for ritual. We're on Chapter 2 in HBWM in our ADC book study and Z has this ritual in that chapter, A Ritual For Self-Realization, that really spoke to me. She also has a beautiful birthday ritual, but it wasn't what intuitively felt right, even on my birthday, the self-realization was appropriate, so I chose to go with that.

She suggests we do it in the hour of Venus, performing it on Venus' day (Friday) each week until we feel that full realization, so today is the next part for me. I wasn't concerned about doing it on a Tuesday (Mars), because while planetary hours have their important factors, lets face it, anything with math sends me in the opposite direction! When I was in BFC we had to learn planetary hours as we progressed through our studies, I think most all traditions lead you there after the basics of Witchcraft, and it has immense value, but I admit it's not my forte, so I tend to take the approach that intention is best, and if I can do what I can to align my work with as much astrological alignment as possible, then it's a success. Of course, there's always the mention and intention that all workings be for the highest good, and I think that planetary hours are the same, it's intention, and for those that can delve further into it with great understanding, all the better! Though I know we'll be delving into it in W2 this year... I'll cross (or recross) that bridge when we get there!

The ritual itself was amazing. A wonderful gift to myself on my birthday, it lasted for about 2 hours start to finish. It tied in perfectly with the theme of this year for me: Balance. It was so tied together that it was truly perfect, and the emotions that surfaced were somewhat surprising. You address the things you both love and dislike about yourself, looking into a mirror and addressing them in balance. Not focusing on simply the ones you love, then the things you dislike, or vice versa, because that is too off-kilter and doesn't serve you at all. The back and forth about giving love to each aspect, whether you love or dislike it, is an empowering step.

I admit I got annoyed probably halfway through it. My ego was stepping up and wanted to know why I would love an aspect of myself that I didn't like instead of loving yourself in spite of this attribute. For example, one of the things I dislike is my lack of compassion in certain situations. I'd like to think I am compassionate, but there are still areas I am working on in sharing love without attachment (to me or another). Z suggests you say something to the effect of "I love you, Silver, because you lack compassion in certain situations"... at first these things were fine with the first few I had come up with, but when others became more specific it was harder to say this without annoyance or even anger (perhaps Tuesday's Mars energies were adding to this!). I wanted to say that I loved myself in spite of this, but when I stopped for a moment to contemplate who really wanted to say that, and why, I realized it was more fear-based energy, afraid to let go.

One of the things I speak about a lot is befriending those aspects of Self that we don't love; to befriend it, find out why it's there, what is its purpose, and how can we work together functionally, in harmony. If there is no working together harmoniously, we send it away with love, filling the void with something beautiful for ourselves so that it doesn't return. I realized this was the same thing. If I'm unwilling to love those parts that I truly do dislike I won't learn to really love myself as a Whole. These attributes are here for a reason. I created them for a reason. In this moment I don't really need to concern myself with bombardments of "why", but just focus on this step of mirror-work to give it love.

As Z says, the practice is to develop divine compassion in yourself, and I could feel that in certain areas more than others, but overall it was eye-opening, and healing. It may have seemed odd to do this as a personal birthday rite, but intuitively I was quite drawn to it, and I'm glad I did it.

I completed the ritual with a birthday spread for the calendar year and it was spot on with messages I have been receiving since Samhain. All tied together, the new year for me has fully begun.

We had class on Wednesday night and did some meditations for Fire and Water, and I was actually a little bit surprised (not much) by my resistance to Fire's energies... personal Will... I suppose I'm really not all that surprised. Christopher gave me the incense and one of the candles from the meditation to work with, which I plan to do after this weekend. I want to focus on devotions and the self-realization ritual again and then focus on more Fire and Water next week. The Water one was much easier. Helpful messages from my guides that I am integrating, still tying in with the theme of compassion.

I am hopeful for a day of rest. Everyone around me has been sick and it's not unusual that after my birthday arrives that I fall sick. Well, generally it's the week of my birthday, which as anyone who knows me knows that I tend to view it more as a cleansing than a mundane aspect of simply "getting sick". I'm quite surprised that I didn't start the new year with being sick, considering how many around me are currently. I also realized that part of that sickness is just programming, telling myself that there is a "need" for me to cleanse each year with a fever, stuffy nose, cough, etc. when in reality there really is no "need" for me to process through that kind of physical ailment. None at all. I can still process and cleanse on any of the other subtle bodies without need to manifest them into the physical body.

With that said, I'm still planning on joyously laying under the covers, drinking juice, wishing someone would make me soup and slipping off into a good, deep nap.

)0(

Prior reflections

2010-01-04T00:39:00.001-05:00

Years ago someone once suggested that at the end of the calendar year your first entry in your journal (or blog) would be a reflection of the previous year's worth of entries. You would take the first sentence in the first entry of each month and compile them together... I did this last year, both with the written journal I keep by hand and my blog, and last night I reflected on 2008's entries and smiled to myself at some marvelous memories, cringed at others, then simply laughed at the rest. What a difference a year can make when you step outside of whatever is going on, be it functional or not, when you're not in it it's a completely different energy.

After reflecting on 2008, I took the time to go through my journals and write up the entries for 2009... in the general pattern scheme I realized that I don't seem to write as much during the First Quarter Moon, however I tend to write a lot during the Crescent and Gibbous phases. While there is a natural tendency to journal (and introspect) during the dark of the moon, it was an interesting pattern to notice.

I found myself needing to read through entries a bit more to decipher what precisely was going on at the beginning of certain months. The one sentence wasn't generally enough (for the most part) to see what was going on. Then again, I'm not exactly a one-sentence capturer of words. The core of most things I tend to write are hidden throughout many words, not just a few at the start of something. Perhaps the journal is a refection of that as well.

I certainly didn't blog enough last year to make any sort of patterns that were wildly evident of anything. It's still a strange process to work through, the outer layer of fear, still stashed in the inner core, but layered on the surface to peel away and place ever so delicately on the ground, piecing it together like mosaics. Putting myself out there is strange, and scary to some degree, not because of the vulnerability, I think there is some power in being able to be who you are in a way that no one can use your story against you. Impossible, it's your story. It will have misinterpretations like any story you hear, but when you don't own that from another, it's quite powerful. I'm not sure where the fear exactly plants itself relative to the blogging. It may seem small, silly even, that this aspect might feel uncomfortable, that the words you pull out of your mind in stream of consciousness typing could have this power of its own, this energy and life of its own, but it does.

In the reflections of the previous year the same pattern became evident: I am a fairly good listener who will listen, without judgment, to your story. I love stories. Whether they're true or not isn't my decision, for I'm not the storyteller in that situation, but listening and observing (especially the observation) is where my comfort lay the most. I don't put myself out there in situations, because I enjoy the art that takes place around me. Seeing the beauty, the abstract, the strokes of genius, the flash of a beginner's lens... it's captivating to observe, I don't know that I'm comfortable being in it so much as being in the place to hold space for it.

The year waxed and waned, and the lessons that came were mostly easily delivered. I think much of the harder lessons were present during my Saturn Return, and once I merged out of that my ability to accept gifts and lessons in that realm became easier and less painful to bear. I've opened up more as a result of that time, sharing stories about my depression growing up, my attempted suicides, my path leading me to Goddess and how that path has led me to the healers path... they're all stories, some active, some passive, some define-less, some true, some illusions... there is a misconception that the illusionary stories we tell are untrue; that these stories aren't worth anything. I don't believe that. I believe in truth, but my definition of that truth and what it holds doesn't mirror the same for everybody, nor should it.

I have spent this past year, in particular, addressing personal language. Years prior it had been addressed, but the depth to which I chose to look at how it actually played a role inside of me, versus the role it played around me because of me, has been a challenge in truth itself. A worthwhile challenge, when you're ready to acknowledge and notice the things that you know don't serve you, without excuses, without telling yourself you're learning from them (when conceivably you may not be), just stripping the layers to its raw form...

I'm not fully there yet.

I've stripped the layers, yes. I've embraced and caressed those raw aspects... but that was then. In this Now, the raw that I once knew and was once familiar with in kinestetics and vision isn't the same raw that exists now. It can't be. The soul self shifts and merges, even if the general matrix is still the same, there is always a shift, and those slight shifts are quite powerful.

While we are in Mercury Retrograde it has come to my attention that we're also in Mars Retrograde until March... or May when He fully returns in direct motion. As I've mentioned before, my astrology is quite beginner's. Mercury Retrograde is an easy one to keep track of and notice it's patterns, and while I am adapting to the other lessons the zodiac has to share, it's still a new territory for me in the deeper realm. It comes as no surprise (now) to learn of Mars Retrograde... it certainly explains a lot!!

Now, it's not to say I'm merely experiencing the aggression Mars can possess, because I'm also experiencing that other side this retrograde brings of reassessment. The anger surfacing is actually a combination of Mars and Mercury working together, for me that is. It's such a beneficial time to look at the expression of my anger.

I'm not one for conflicts. I take a more "make love not war" sort of mentality when it comes to disagreements and conflicts. With that said, it also varies to the degree of the situation. While I won't show my aggression or anger towards another, the swallowing of that mass clearly is dysfunctional, and this Mars retrograde is bringing that process to the surface. Fitting as it only turns once every 2 years... the last time He came around I was processing through so much...

"With retrograde Mars affecting sectors that involve deeper feelings, you could be exploring anger and assertion over deeply buried matters." The deeply buried always has a way of rising to the surface, and some of this has been long and deeply buried. It is with honor and love that I open the wounds and heal them, one by one. This calendar year represents a year of Balance for me -- Balance in a state that has no scale of either/or; it knows no better/worse than; it's spiritual Balance, which isn't better than physical realm Balance... just different. I'm ready for that process, asking the Goddess for grace with each layer I uncover, with each layer I embrace. I feel quite optimistic about this calendar year.

)0(

In the hour of return, which year is which?

2009-12-29T16:46:00.000-05:00

Mercury retrograde has begun, the Blue Moon is nearly upon us, and the calendar year is coming to an end... it's a bustling of energy moving around, and I've taken this past week to examine the vortex and the Wheel and my place in it (and around it). Last night's dream gave me deeper insight into something I hadn't realized was truly a deep-seeded issue. There was no glamour involved, simply the message, straightforward, and provocatively blunt. I admit I'm still slightly rattled in my core, but a rattling that the inner spirit hears and is taking hold of the rattle, now.

The year is coming to an end, though I don't put much stock in 'relief' or 'excitement' that one ends and another begins, I'm fairly neutral when it comes to the calendar year in general.

As Witches, we celebrate the New Year at Samhain, and for me that really begins the new year. Come January 1st I am reevaluating what has been going on since Samhain and take the day for deep contemplation (which a few of my friends have commented that they think I "contemplate" too much -- which I think could be a case of worry if it wasn't met with direct action, but I digress...), and, come my birthday, I transition into the third and final phase of the new year where I put everything into motion. That's the key there, the action/motion of what has been planted. The third phase solidifies the growing process. After all, isn't the day of our birth really beginning another "new" year anyway? Perhaps I would think differently if all of these things weren't happening in the same general time frame, I'm not sure. I suppose if I were born in the summer this entire thought process would be moot and my way of practice would shift. Maybe.

November was virtually nonexistent in that I didn't accomplish practically anything. Well, I didn't accomplish what I had intended, however other things were accomplished... the reminder to neutralize statements as well as observe and honor the gratitude in what each situation has to bring. It's a continual process, and I feel like I'm standing on the verbal ledge observing my language more so now than before.

My guides are sharing with me some information on things they'd like to see me do that would, essentially, be slightly contradictory at this time of the retrograde. It's not starting anything new, so it's not completely out there, it is a completion of sorts, but I'm not digging too far to figure out the "why's", but instead looking within and realizing how natural it feels, so I'm trusting my instincts here, and asking that all correspondences be for my highest good.

I had a really interesting conversation with one of the systers from ADC. We have never spoken more than in email, so when she had asked if we could have a phone conversation it threw me slightly in that I knew it must be necessary so as not to confuse what email (the written word) can sometimes entail.

We spoke a bit about hexing, and I was eager to hear her thoughts. She has been a Dianic HPS for 20+ years, and while I share that not as a way for others to bow down to her, but more speaking of her years of practice and devotion and having studied directly under the Dianic Mother, Z. Her perspective was good to hear, from someone who has directly performed hexes and sharing how it stems from a place of love, when we say "For the love of All may patriarchy fall", it is a hex. I admit, I never looked at it that way. It is a phrase I am quite familiar with and stand behind, but to see it layered from another perspective was quite unique and a gift.

I find value in hexing, I do, and as I shared with the systers of ADC my first spell, one that I had written, was a hex. It was to hex those who had harmed me in my sexual assault. That was about 13 or so years ago? Time can be a funny thing when you look back.

In retrospect I would have approached the spell in the same manner, to hex, however, I know there were components naturally missing. However, it then led me to self healing from the inside out.

I'm not sure if she misunderstood that I don't find value in hexing, but it was a rich conversation none the less. My choice in not performing hexing as part of my practice now isn't equated with me saying that I don't think anyone should never do them. I think with any spellwork, with anything involving the art and science of the Craft needs to be met with an educated background, and sometimes that education results from pure trial and error. Is it right or wrong? I couldn't say. As we progress through our personal journey's there is an aspect of us that is always in that dance of trial and error -- and, with pure intention for the highest good, I don't think it can be measured or analyzed in a simplistic lab of right or wrong.

It was nice to connect, to hear her voice on the other end after knowing her and reading her messages on the list all these years. Several of us from ADC would like to get together and have a retreat sometime in the future. I can see that, us gathering together, sitting around the fire in circle, sharing and laughing and singing and celebrating in Her name. I'm not sure when, but it feels more like a "when" than an "if".

I'm thinking of heading out later for a night of music, though I see the long list of things that must get done and the long drive that could be spared by tackling the many projects that don't care for excuses. Still, it might be nice to abandon it all for the night...

)0(

Communicative errors - the retrograde & beyond

2009-12-20T17:15:00.000-05:00

I feel the misalignment of communication luring around the corner. Not necessarily out of intention, but with Mercury turning retrograde once more before the end of this year it's a natural progression of this time, and in the shadow of the retrograde I am already noticing it.

I had nearly forgotten that we had one more retrograde to go before the year was over. It will run through my birthday next month, tied obviously into my Sun sign of Capricorn this time around, which will be particularly strong for introspection. I have been delving within much this month, looking to refocus on certain aspects that I want to pay special attention to in the coming year. I like what my dear friend Wendy does in creating goals for each of the 5 elements -- perhaps I will do the same for my birthday. I started to think about it last night, so many tying into one another, as is a natural tendency with the elements when you look at the notion of all is one in the divine mind. It's all One, but the separation is necessary for focus, for me.

I feel like it's going to be a strong year for me -- they say the "3" is focused this year on "creativity", which ties in brilliantly with the work I'll be focusing on in the year, but I am also in the energy of "balance" with this coming 3 -- the balance between two extremes, and this is a key point for me personally with a return to gravity, return to neutrality, and, with the retrograde in Capricorn: return return return. I'm taking full advantage of this introspective time, and while normally I save much important communication (if it can wait) until after the retrograde, I am being clearly told that I will be right in the center of it, irregardless of my awareness of conscious communication or not, it's necessary for certain aspects of fumbling along in language. It's not to be mistaken for careless language, the fumbling isn't about unconsciousness, it's not to negate kindness in communication, far from it.

I've been feeling the language barriers come up. I'm not proficient in astrology, though, like most people on this path or similar New Age thinking, I keep track of when Mercury goes retrograde. This understanding now of the Shadow aspect of the retrograde is fascinating and completely true. It's really no different than womyn who experience their moon cycles and how it isn't simply for the week they are experiencing it, but the week before and the week after. The release is extraordinary when you're looking at the culmination of the energy surfacing at the beginning, the release, then the aftermath. Amazing.

It's the eve of the Solstice, blessings of snow have fallen upon New England and I took Nimue out in it this morning to play, throw snowballs around, even if I have fully accepted the fact that I will probably never make a decent snowball to save my life, we had a ton of fun, and she made her first snow angel... it was a great family day, much gratitude for these quiet days alone.

Tomorrow I am planning a Yule ritual after Nimue goes to bed, bringing in the light, gratitude for the Sun's blessings... so many blessings this year... I'm so acutely aware of the "small things" in life, the gratitude that each of those small things bring, even in the pain of loss that is still tender at this time (it has been a month since Jonathan and Amy's passing, to the day), I'm not losing sight of what each moment brings, and how I wish those moments to end. It's not fear-based, for once it doesn't feel at all attached to fear, just this necessity to figure it out, to understand and acknowledge gifts, in a more heart-centered place.

Excited for the return of the Sun... return of the light... but more importantly sharing that light. Let it emanate from us all, and return, threefold.

)0(

The broom closet

2009-12-18T23:43:00.000-05:00

I'm a Witch. Openly out of the broom closet, I sometimes forget the road to coming out, and how others don't quite have the same blessings and opportunity many of us do have by being out. It can sometimes come at a price, with many judgments, pain, and loss. I think many of us forget that sometimes, I know I do.

I've been a practicing Witch for over 13 years. An awakening that felt so natural, so much like coming home, my life is so rich from this connection to Goddess, which has connected me to some amazing systers and brothers in the Craft.

I came out of the broom closet early on, once I identified and realized that I was Witch, I wore my pentacle openly, and that was a huge step. Even then, 13 years ago, it was a different time, such a different time. I think the different levels of acceptance continue to shift, mostly for the better over time, but the levels of ignorance vary, though it's still there, some aspects more progressive than others...

I think we sometimes take for granted the ease in which we wear our pentacles. I know I do at times. It's been most recently that I have been having conversations with friends who are still in the broom closet, how they long to wear their pentacles out in public, to be able to attend such events as Pagan Pride Day so openly as I do, to even have their ritual tattoo art honoring their path not have to be hidden from others. It's a sad reality, and even though some of the progression has been for the better, it doesn't make up for those living in fear of persecution. It may not be the Burning Times, but people still have a lot to lose in being so open about their spirituality.

I can remember a time shortly after I had moved in with my husband (then boyfriend), and he had borrowed my car to go visit his mother. When he came back I got in the car and noticed my pentacle was missing -- he had taken it off the rear view mirror and placed it in the glove compartment so as not to "offend" his mother, who has had issues with us being together since the beginning of our relationship. She's by no means an extremist in her religious beliefs, but, like many of the baby boomers and beyond, Paganism is evil, it's not a legitimate religion, and, from his point of view, he didn't want to create any waves, but still, it had offended me at the time. I had worn my pentacle openly, but it's not the same as coming out and saying you're a Witch.

There is a naive notion in some traditions that believe if you can't vocalize it then you're not really one, that you're still standing in shame from previous religious upbringing, etc. I understand the general notion of how prideful and empowering it can be when you vocalize it, not to others, but to yourself. It is a tradition, after all, between you and the Goddess, not society to approve or disapprove of.

While the "rejection" I received by being open about my beliefs have been minor, they are rejections none the less, and they hurt. I had a friend in high school, who I had known for a couple of years and was fairly close to find out that I practiced Witchcraft. She stopped speaking to me, telling me "I didn't know you were one of them." She was a very religious Christian, and we often spoke about religion, but she never once asked me what mine was.

I can recall going to a job interview and, unconsciously, not wearing my pentacle openly. Perhaps there was a sense there that I might not get the job if I had it out, and after being hired I began to wear it, and my boss began to treat me differently. His partner always had questions, but my boss never looked me in the eye again, and most often spoke to me through his partner. It was strange, and distasteful, but it was a reality I accepted knowing that, at that time (and to some degree even now), people can be ignorant, and fear is quite a powerful hate.

You still hear of people losing their jobs, losing their families, being persecuted because of their willingness to stand, proudly, out of a broom closet that we should never have to endure standing in to begin with.

I have had several friends over the years who were secretly practicing Witchcraft, even from their spouses and partners! Such a major aspect of themselves, how do you hide it? How do you hide you? I understand the fear, I do, it's a personal journey to embrace and transform, but in partnership with another, how do you share a life together when you feel that the other won't accept your beliefs?

It's been a while since someone has recoiled in fear/disgust/ignorance at me for being a Witch... the last time that happened? Jonathan's wake. His brother, who is much older and I had never met, saw me talking to his sister (who apparently is quite fascinated by Witchcraft) and he looked at my pentacle and had this strange face of trying to place something he couldn't quite figure out. He asked me what it meant, and I told him. He literally recoiled several steps back, as though he could be struck down by merely sharing the same air as me. It was strange, because I have not really ever had that kind of reaction. There are the inquisitive ones who want to know more or who were brought up to believe Witchcraft is evil, but I would say 9 out of 10 times the shift is different because I don't, stereotypically, represent what a "typical" Witch looks like. "Witches like neon, really?"... and we're even known to scramble our own eggs... go figure...

But at Jonathan's wake, to have his brother step back, I knew it wouldn't be an easy conversation. We were both hurting at the loss of a wonderful man, though his relationship with his brother wasn't pleasant. Jonathan was openly gay, not something his brother seemed to accept. His brother is a staunch Catholic, with beliefs that homosexuality is wrong, that it will lead you to hell, that suicide is wrong... sad to think of where he believes his brother might be now...

He was looking to have an argument, I could tell. He was in mourning and in grief, probably deeper than most people realized at having a dysfunctional relationship with his brother. He accused me of buying Jonathan a book on astrology... astrology of all things, you would think I bought him a book on Voodoo art... pathetic. He stood there, asking if I knew that I was on the "wrong" side, if I knew that God was the only right thing and how I was following the devil, etc etc.

I'm not a confrontational person, I'm not. Even in that moment, someone going on the defense, feeling the need to save my soul from the seduction of the devil, it didn't upset me, it just saddened me. It saddened me for him, for his strict way of believing and living his life didn't allow any sense of openness to embrace another person's beauty, just as they are. That's sad. It's terrifying.

It has nothing to do with Christianity vs Witchcraft, far from it. It's simple ignorance. I don't think he much cared that I wasn't fighting him. I didn't want to fight. I don't feel the need to defend myself, and I think the one-sided discussion was more than speaking about religion. I could see he was filtering through something in himself.

He went on to tell me how he grew up confused, looking for meaning in his life and found God. God came to him, spoke to him, and he then started to get "proof" that his God is the only God... proof... he went on and on about this hard-core proof he had, how he had spoken to scholars and priests and they showed him the proof.

It was the strangest conversation to have, and his sister simply stood next to me, unsure of how to react, because even he didn't know of her intrigue in Witchcraft. He waited for me to say something, and all I could think of in that moment was "I'm happy you've found the path for you". That's all I wanted to say. I didn't want to debate him, not just because we were at a wake and it was completely inappropriate, but because I don't do debates. I don't mind hearing your story, I'm actually intrigued by other religions, as I wasn't brought up in any sort of religion, but I also don't go around talking about the "proof" and how "mistaken" you will be in the "end"... another thing he informed me of, of my own ignorance, that in the end when I came face to face with the Creator I will be shocked to see Jesus.

It was a strange conversation. Sad that people feel the need to lecture vs share, and to force their "true" way onto you as the "only" way. He did comment that he was surprised at how I didn't seem like a devil-worshiper. Oh the sarcastic remarks that flew around in my head... inappropriate for the moment, but still, I wouldn't have responded in any other way, mourning or not. Too much ignorance and hate is what lends fuel to the fire when it comes to Witchcraft. I certainly don't speak for the lot of Pagans; you gather a room full of us and we're all different from the person we're standing next to. We're rich in diversity... I quite like it that way. Still, I wouldn't want someone else ignorantly speaking on my behalf, and I'm sure the same is true for others not wanting me to be the spokesperson for Paganism with my focus on devotional practice vs the science.

13 years later my work has been directly influenced by my journey as a Witch, especially out of the broom closet. I commend those who have the strength to come out, and I honor those who choose to stay in, for the step is huge, and not everyone feels ready/willing/safe to come out. After the conversation at the wake I can't say I blame them -- we're not a hundred percent there yet. But when I think about seeing all of those beautiful, diverse faces at Pagan Pride... how the numbers grow each year, and to stand together, worshiping the Goddess as One... it's such a beautiful sight.

)0(

Non resolutions

2009-12-15T13:20:00.000-05:00

I'm one of those non-resolution makers. I don't make them. I plant seeds in the new year at Samhain, so come January's new year, I am already in the manifestation of my goals for the year. Also, with my birthday just a couple of days after the new year (January's, that is), I take a moment to refocus and shift what hasn't been working since Samhain as I focus on the year ahead -- my year ahead, vs the energy of this one day set up for whatever mindset we convince ourselves is fitting.

They say resolutions don't work because people set themselves up for failure, or that they do work if you put your mind to it. Then there's the argument that there's too much emphasis on this one day to change your life. Maybe all of them are right, I don't know. I haven't focused much on why I do or don't do it, but rather I think of it as this vortex in the moment: what do I want? Then I go from there. The date isn't essential. While I do plan things, like any good Witch, during the moon cycles and Sabbats or any other major planetary movement that I am aware of (since I am still only sporting basic astrology knowledge), if intention is there and you're in the mindset for the highest good, these other things can be 'forgiven' if you forget.

The other day I did a small, but powerful, ritual at my altar. It was a release, and since then I have been carrying a major headache. 3 days so far. It's not from lack of grounding, I did that, many times to be sure, and it's coinciding with my own moon cycle, so for the moment there's this surge of energy that is rising to my upper chakras, and the necessary aspect is that I need to journal this out, the overload of thoughts rising. Good thoughts, truly productive thoughts, but they're stewing in the mind without a sense of progression. That's what the headache is about. It's compression of the mental aspect not being released.

After the ritual I was thinking about my altar, and I did some minor changes, and while it works for the moment, I'm not fully content with it. Something is missing, and I know what that something is, I just need to find where I had placed it.

After the drama/trauma of BFC so much had shifted in my way of practice. Mostly for the better, though I had a discipline during that time that isn't quite measured the same now, but in a British Traditionalist path the discipline is generally quite stricter than other traditions, so it's purpose-less to compare.

I came across my old journal from my BFC years, particularly the one where I was getting ready to elevate and my then-HP decided I wasn't ready because I wasn't a very good "follower". This came up any time he had a thought, asked our questions and I had a question in return. Isn't that what good facilitators do? Allow the space for open dialogue instead of assuming their way is the one and only way? Rereading those entries was saddening to a point, because the general 'family' dynamic within the tradition itself (not within the coven I was a part of) is what I miss the most. You have it for 5 years then in an instant you leave and it's all gone, as though it never was.

He's now a born-again... it may sound awful, but whenever I think about this I can't help but roll my eyes and snicker just a bit. It's not a surprise, but what a shame for everyone else who followed him and had to endure his doctrines of Christianity that he wasn't willing to leave behind as one who supposedly identified as being Pagan.

Ew... a lot of judgment in that statement. We chose to endure his doctrines, as we chose to be part of his coven. I chose to be part of his coven. I could have studied online, I could have traveled to one of the other states, but I chose to be there. There is still some residual anger there, for his agenda, for the lack of voice I possessed at that time. Yet, I ask myself why I'm still angry, when I'm more than content with where my path has taken me now? I'm not sure I know how to answer that, instead to say that it was just painful, and sad, to be part of something that was full of judgment, and my experience then of assuming it was OK to be in that energy field. A valuable lesson, and, with some judgment, I am glad that he is back in a tradition that he never fully left, so that he can stop sharing pre-conditioned and programmed judgment to other initiates. May he find his true light there.

I got a message in my FB the other day about the Garchen Buddhist Centre in Singapore and the all day White Tara retreat they're going to be doing on January 1st, asking that we recite the White Tara mantra for Rinpoche's long and healthy life. They're hoping they can accumulate 100 million White Tara mantras and asking those who can't be there to email in their count. I'm excited for this and plan to joyfully take part on the 1st. I wish I had been keeping count of the White Tara mantras I have been doing since my retreat with Rinpoche back in '04.

He had asked us to recite the mantra 500,000 times, and that if we could do a million that would be wonderful. One of the things I'd like to focus on is keeping actual count of how many White Tara mantras I do and reach the 500,000. I have no expectations one way or the other in terms of reaching it next year, but plugging away at it with Her image and being in full awareness is my intention.

Tomorrow I have my W2 class and looking forward to seeing everyone. After initiation last month I think we all grew a bit closer, and certainly more vocal, and I so genuinely like each and every one of them, it's something I look forward to each month.

With that said, I was hoping to get the next chapter read before class tomorrow night.

)0(

The snow, the winter, the stay

2009-12-09T12:14:00.000-05:00

The rumours of snow are true -- woke up this morning to see the ground covered and the flakes continuing to come down. I, personally, love snow. I love winter, especially the first real snowfall, the big one where everything looks like a sentimental postcard. I adore it. It's precisely the reason why I adore New England and prefer to call this area my home.

I lived in California for a year as a child, and while the first month was exciting, when it came to the darker half of the year it was a complete disappointment, and I longed for the cold, for the snow, for the winters I had grown accustomed to as a child.

In our talks about the possibility of moving to Florida this was pretty much on the top of my "con" list. I didn't know if I could go through missing another snowstorm, missing the bitter cold, missing the various layers for warmth only appreciated during this time of year. Even though all of the signs kept pointing to stay here, Florida was beckoning us, but now, looking out the window, seeing the snow fall and fall, I'm glad we opted to stay. Aside from a number of other reasons to stay, the weather itself was huge priority. It's a reflection of how you tend to appreciate what you have when it's gone.

My sleep has been off for a good week now. My dreams extremely vivid, it doesn't feel like sleep at all, but a journey into the other realms to continue work, and in this space and time I generally "awake" exhausted. The last 2 days I have needed to nap, and even in the nap the dreams have been wild. Yesterday I was woken up by my panicky moans of fear, a continuation from the dream before. They all seem to be continuation of dream after dream after dream. They're all related, and that's not something my dreams have done in quite some years.

It's been a crossing over the veils, which has been beneficial in the healing process, and I awake carrying some form of inspiration to work on. It's a beautiful gift, yes, but I am ready for the balance in rested sleep.

Next week ADC starts Chapter 2 in HBWM. There are still some questions in the first chapter that I am exploring for myself. I've been thinking about spellwork in such a different capacity, and while it has this balance within being a magickal act(ion) it's also polar in its stillness of devotion/prayer. It's made me see the imbalance within my own practice of spellwork, at least in this moment with delving into W2. I haven't felt the need to practice spells in the way I once had with BFC. My path took me deeper into devotion, which is not to say that there is no room for spells, but the identity of the spells took on a different meaning, so its actions were changed as well.

I'm still struggling with this piece, this outward expansion of Self where it's available to all. Seems silly as a Priestess, where you put yourself out there, but the energy and intention is sometimes different. Holding space for another and facilitating their awareness isn't the same as holding space for yourself in a revealing manner. Then again, that may be the piece that holds me back: revealing. It is unveiling, it is release, it is sharing and allowing the art of priestessing to be circular, not simply with shapes that allow for rest in the corner.

I find such comfort in holding space for another. Listening and sharing love is where my work begins, but when the focus is shifted to me the corners in the shapes is where I long to be. It makes me think back to my friend who was taking "inventory" of herself. The bravery it took to open yourself up to these various perceptions. All part of a story, yes, but the story has value, especially if you can relate to it or are triggered by it.

The story is unfolding, and the character is expanding, but it doesn't work if she seeks solitude out of fear. I can't say that it's "never" worked. Each moment has had its purpose, each moment has had its value. My "problem" is that I'm not identifying with that purpose or that value from then... and there is a part of me that is trying to convince myself that it's not ok, only it is. I don't identify with the then because it was then. So obviously then that it humors me in its simplicity.

Such random reflections on this snowy day...

)0(

Directing/Directions

2009-12-09T00:23:00.000-05:00

I feel inspired... inspired! I have been working on this piece for a couple of years now that I sometimes bring into the classes I teach and today while working on another piece, it started to reveal itself again. It's magnificent, and while I certainly can't take all the credit, as my guides have been instrumental in answering my questions, it's a huge step in this phase of putting it all together, and the next step is directing itself, even before I have had a chance to pretend to orchestrate its next move, it has pulled itself together and is pointing the way through the clearing in the forest... my my what a bright light that shines ahead...

I love those instrumental moments where clarity mixes with the muses and the canvas no longer feels like this immense, blank object standing before you... "It is green; it is aqua marine. It is colors I have never seen..."

It really is colors I have never seen. I love new/renewed self discovery. It's a culmination of the loss experienced last month. My dreams have been incredibly vivid, each moment is a sequence of moments entangled as one, without the need to cut them away or feel strangled by them, but moments upon moments that make you step outside of yourself and really see all that is there. ALL that is there. The last time I can recall having vision that intense was after my refuge vows. Clarity then was completely different than now, as it would be, because the clarity offered then was surrounded by an awakening I asked for. I did ask for clarity, here, and the openness in which the question was asked had truly no attachment.

The lack of attachment has been most recently judged by the outside as indifference in its most discordant ways. It's indifference, yes. It's gravity. It's the language piece. This is what it comes down to each and every time: language.

My language isn't above others, it isn't always vibrating in love and light. It's a constant reminder of what works, what doesn't, and what needs to be shifted. It has apparently come off as an illusion to others as "superiority". In a joking format I hold the title with much humor, however when the "gift" was laid out in front of me, with all of the things I lack and the ways in which I am dysfunctional -- it was a challenge to not want to throw that disgust away from me. However, it had value in the moment. Even now as a realization of how one person's truth is truly not your own, and how do you stay in the moment with someone else's perceptions that don't even feel like "lies", but simply feel like nothing to you: no thing. It comes off as superiority at times, as not caring, as the indifference of an ugly truth you are unwilling to see, though it's far from it, from any of it.

I'm not a confrontational person. I'm not proud at my natural instinct to simply walk away. I don't always identify as the Warrior aspect of the Goddess, though I have had to pull out my armor now and again. When my integrity is under attack I don't see it as a sign to come out fighting. Nor do I see it as a sign that I am meant to "defend". I don't even know how to relate to the aspect of defending oneself. Is it a problem? I don't know. I reflect back on Ruiz's work about how we're all characters in a story, and someone else has written up a character of who you are, to them, and the role you play in their story. It usually is not the version of who you are in your own story. I completely vibrate with his description of this.

When you can start to see yourself as a character, it changes everything. For me it allowed me to step outside of the story to see what aspect of the character was true, what aspect I enjoyed being that I could relate to, and what aspect did it trigger something in me that I didn't like. Even if it is a story, if you're willing to listen to it, there's an agreement there, to hold that space in the moment, and sometimes that holding space agreement can be misinterpreted as agreeing to play the role of said character.

I'm still standing at the entrance of my comfortable cave. The odd thing about processing through loss is that it does one of two things (in its extremes): you either appreciate and value everything around you and want to be closer to it; or you appreciate and value everything around you and want to not be closer to it. I'm teetering on the edge of the latter, where I am in deep gratitude for all the amazing gifts around me, but I am valuing alone time. Alone time that I find comfort in much too easily which becomes misconstrued as alienation, but it becomes a valued time for internal dialogue, something I think only other writers and introverts can really understand.

My altar begs to be redone, though we're both indecisive of how the flow must go. However, since I am in W2 it only seems appropriate to lay out the altar in a fairly "traditional" manner. It brings me back to old BFC days... my altar has been spirit-led since I left. Both have their values, but it was necessary for me to experience both extremes as part of my spiritual growth.

I feel this coming Yule and the return of the light is going to bring much more than the light itself. It feels powerful, yet subtle. I suppose "subtle" isn't the right word. It borders on subtlety but will be incredibly breathtaking for those with that conscious awakening and awareness. For me part of it is this project that I am working on -- oh how mysterious it sounds, but the true mystery is the empowerment. For now I am keeping it sacred until all the pieces come together perfectly. It means I must mix intellectual with action. It is manifestation in motion... incredible!

)0(

Dream within a dream within a reality within the dance.

2009-12-06T23:41:00.000-05:00

December days are quick in their short hours, but I have been in renewal since the month began. As each day brings us closer to the light, each day the light shines a new gratitude, or renewed gratitude, that I has this sense of relief from its presence.

Nimue has turned 4 today, and the beautiful memories that have gifted my day has been a treasure. She has been my greatest teacher; an ancient spirit of the ancient ones sharing her wisdom, her joy, her love and her pure, delicate light. She shares it so freely, it shadows my own light in only the most glorious of ways, and her being makes me want to be a better being. Some days I am better attuned with this aspect than others, but today was one of those days where I was just in the center of the Wheel, adoring this treasured Goddess-embodiment. It's no wonder she chose two amazing Goddesses to be named after...

I don't feel the heaviness this month that was weighed with loss as I did last month. It was painful, and the memory is still like a tender bruise, but the gift of present awareness and compassionate gratitude has been connected itself in spiraled energy from surface to core and back. Only a couple of days later did it dawn on me that the anniversary of Kamala's death was here, as she reached me in the dreamworld.

To say my dreams have been heightened to this thin level of standing with both feet on either side is an understatement. The process of release in loss has been worked through and healed in the dreamworld, and I began to delve into other aspects of parallel work that was helpful in my growth and healing to my spirit.

I participated, on the anniversary of Kamala's passing, in a rare display of extreme dysfunctional C/C loop communication. It was ridiculous. It had no function... well, I suppose I couldn't say that, after all the awareness alone that I was in this vortex of dysfunction had value. I didn't fully see myself in the C/C loop until the end of the conversation, and I had this moment where I smirked to myself, thinking of Kamala, and realizing this was her gift. It was her memory, this aspect of her legacy to carry on in my personal work. She always knew that I could understand the Four Forces in a way that made it such a natural process for me, and it had been her hope that I would take over her classes. Training ensued, but I left, creating an alternate realm where this work continues in the "modern" form she had wanted. I can't say that I don't have any desire to continue it in this time, but I know that it's not the time right now.

After this reality of dreamscape conversation I finally dropped into Gravity the next day. My comfort area, the GEM Loop is a natural place for me to be, which explains much of the humor surrounding my lack of presence in linear time and my ability to not participate in the "dance" of the C/C Loop.

The concept of the Four Forces isn't a terribly difficult concept to explain, yet it's not really for me to explain, as the work has, essentially, been left to another, so I feel I can only speak of these terms, in this somewhat coded manner, knowing that it makes sense to me (and those who have taken the Four Forces, but more importantly actually understand it), but Gravity can sometimes be equated to Grounding and Centering. You drop out of the chaos around you, drop into Self. It is free of judgment, free of the "either/or" game; it's complete neutrality. It's observation; it's awareness.

I have a natural tendency to the Gravity state of consciousness, and that day I dropped into Gravity; I observed the dance around me, looked at my interpretation of this dance, and I let it go. The Full Moon was amazingly powerful, and standing in the center of the theme of this cycle: I Adapt, brought a twist in the adaptation of present moment awareness.

I bathed myself in the light of the Moon, the Lady guiding me into this cleansing that grounded me instantly and began the releasing process. It was calm and beautiful, grounding and natural (a key theme for me today it seems), but it wasn't the only process of release I would experience, and She made me aware of that.

Later that evening I experienced the balance in polar extremes that She spoke of, and the purging that ensued was horrific. It was extremely painful, and while I rarely beg, I begged. I begged and pleaded and then, when in doubt, I breathed. I breathed from a place of trauma and felt my body lighten. It lightened not from the actual purge, but from a shift in consciousness that was necessary for my "survival" in the moment.

Let me clarify "survival": it was the pivotal point in the release. The purging and releasing isn't necessarily indicative of what is ejected, but rather when that sort of critical mass takes place and your body (this physical manifestation of what your spirit self is experiencing) makes a choice. A choice... a piece in the Pyramid that I have been spending so much time "perfecting" before truly delving into sharing it forward.

My mental self has no participation in this post which probably makes no "sense" at this point. It's part of the dreamworld/dreamscape that dances with reality. It's a dream within a dream, which has become a dance within a dance, and that dance has some incredibly powerful steps.

)0(

A week, a month, & the times in between...

2009-11-27T23:44:00.000-05:00

It's still November, but a different November than the month originally started, or how I originally perceived it. One week has completely shifted the entire month, which has completely shifted my entire presence in this moment... in that moment... it feels so separate, yet circumstances have been oddly aligned, and my process through it has been in part shattered grief, in part redefined purpose. It's such a strange place to be, it loses identification even in memory.

Back-tracking seems silly. Pointless even, but it serves its purpose, even now, to bring me back to the present moment, where I am still sitting in confusion, and loss.

Last I wrote, I was going to Lama John's day-long retreat on Access our Best Inner Resources for Service and Social Action: Meditations of Natural Wisdom and Compassion. It was a long drive down to Northampton, the weather spirits dancing in mystery that I felt but wasn't willing to fully interpret.

The morning was presented as an opportunity for us to identify benefactors of love, and I was impressed by the universe's gift to identify a benefactor even before the retreat began. It was a moment where strangers met, shared space and conversation, but without fear, which this person seemed to have been met with. It was a moment of non-judgment, I wasn't even fully present in the moment and that initial, momentary, meeting brought me into this space of natural awareness, and the cold rain as I walked to the church for the retreat was awakening.

The retreat itself was amazing, and I was feeling this abundance of love emanating so easily from me. I had lunch with a womyn who I had just met, just enjoying the conversation about our thoughts on compassion when I went to check my phone for any messages before shutting it off again for the second half of the day. I never did get to experience the second half... I got a call I won't soon forget, and the pain isn't as piercing as it was, but it's still there.

My friend Jonathan killed himself. I, alongside many of his friends who loved him dearly, waited, impatiently, hoping for the best, never considering the worst, not realistically. You can't ever really, truly, imagine the "worst" until it comes to you, so fast, it's blurry, it's confusing, it's unreal. Completely and totally unreal, though, it is, real. Painfully real.

I left immediately, making the long 3 hour drive home desperate to just hold Nimue, to connect with life, to safely release the emotions of feeling the loss of my friend. Even now, simply typing it out, I almost don't want to let myself go there. It still feels like an illusion.

I walked around numb for the next few days, until the one day that I started to feel like I could center myself fully, I got another call from my friend Joe... our friend Amy was in the hospital, and the doctors said she wouldn't make it through the night. It had only been 5 days since Jonathan's death. He asked if I could come to the hospital, to be there, to heal, to support, to do what she wanted me to do, which was to help her in any metaphysical and magickal way possible, so she could cross over.

I spent some time that evening speaking with Christopher about it, wanting to get his perspective, as it's not something I've ever had to do. It put into a whole new perspective about the art of priestessing, and how it isn't all handfastings and baby blessings. The Wheel does turn, and equal measure is experienced and nurtured and honored in its time. His words were extremely helpful, and our discussion on the detachment was precisely what I needed in that moment.

I went to see Amy in the hospital at midnight. Not caring what time it was, needing to be there for her, for Joe, and for me, feeling like she was, indeed, slipping away, I needed to be there to say bye, but I needed to be there to fulfill her wish.

I didn't know Amy very long, she's best friends with my friend Joe, who spoke often to her about me. I still remember the day we met at an Averi show when I was doing merch, and how she didn't even know my name but called Joe that night to say "I met her, I know it's her", and how she spoke about this light that I was emanating that clearly made her see it was me.

She considered me her mentor on this path. A title I didn't give much thought to, as it felt heavy, yet in reality look at the work that I do, priestessing is mentoring. That's part of the process of facilitating in many ways. Still, I saw it as being there, sharing with her as I would share with anyone... to hear, now, what she really thought of me, how important my role was in her life is both beautiful and painful to hear.

She was in ICU, unconscious, brought into the hospital unconscious, it was a strange feeling gowning up before entering her room. With each layer I placed on, the more detached I became. Not out of an act of coldness, no, never, it was to center myself in the work. I was there for a purpose, and I was honoring where I was at, but this was about her, her journey.

I won't go into details of the process of the foundation she allowed me to lay for her. It's sacred, and I want to honor her experience and hold it for her. It was one of the most profound moments I have experienced as a Priestess. Incredibly powerful, and I am more honored than I can say for her allowing me to do that for her.

She physically passed from this realm on Friday... I go the news a half hour before I went to Jonathan's wake. It does come in three's, and saying goodbye this past month from Joe, to Jonathan and then Amy, it was hard. It is hard.

Friday, itself, was painful. To be there, to hear exactly what happened to him... I'm not sure I have cried that hard in a long time.

I'm not going to ask the proverbial questions of "why"... I can't say that I know exactly why, but I can understand, to some degree, why. I was depressed once. So depressed, so lost in a darkness that I really, honestly, never thought I would survive. I never thought I would survive it. I would never have predicted this life, now. Never. I was suicidal, attempted to take my life on more than one occasion, and yet, I didn't. I awakened from the darkness, still in it, but not teetering on personal loss of self, but desperate to follow the voice of the Goddess who was guiding me.

In the balance of death I am seeing the rebirth, the Otherside and the beauty to where their spirits are, in the Summerland, in the Otherworld, embraced by the Goddess. Still, in this physical realm, it's strange and sad and terrible, a great many painful things, but I am holding space for them, remembering them, crying for them, crying with them... I miss them.

A lifetime feels like it has been lived in this very short month, even shorter week. I still feel slightly disconnected from everything around me, not interested in hearing the complaints of the world, the bullshit details of mass consumerism for Black Friday and how we "must" purchase the "perfect" gift for someone to show them our love. Like most who process through loss, your vision changes, and you simply want another moment with those gone, numb to the aspects that aren't harmonious, and it makes you feel just a little more disconnected from those around you, who mean well, but they themselves don't know how to comfort, and many don't want to.

My experience this week with cheap and thoughtless words of "comfort" has been upsetting to witness. The common, cheaply used phrase of "well, there was nothing you could do" angered (and continues to anger) me in ways I can't describe. Not out of a notion of guilt. As I've spoken about before, I don't identify with guilt, not in the way society poisons us with. It upsets me because what kind of world do we live in, what kind of people are we if we go around believing that we can't help anyone?

What would be the purpose of my work then? Yes, sometimes we tell ourselves this, share it with others to ease our own guilt, so that we don't beat ourselves up any further, but I have no desire to listen to it.

Granted I have not had much experience in loss, thankfully, but I reflected on what it is that I would want to hear, if it were me, and I attempt to stand in that space for others. I don't want cheap words, I don't want the proverbial "they're in a better place" when you yourself believe in nothing. You don't believe in a "better place", so where, exactly, are they? Even if you know that I believe in the after life, in reincarnation, in another realm, still, why...

It's exhausting to process through these thoughts, but it's a necessary part of the healing. It has been another layer of personal growth, an initiation that comes as initiations sometimes come: when you think you are least prepared for it.

For now, I sit in the center of the Wheel, observing the cycles turning, focusing on L.O.V.E. (Luminous Omnipresent Vibrational Energy... thanks Jack!).

)0(

In the center of compassion

2009-11-12T12:08:00.000-05:00

I'm really excited for the launching of Charter for Compassion and feeling hopeful that by the hundreds of people who have affirmed the charter and acts of compassion will generate a need and desire to cultivate compassion in our daily lives. I was the 610th person to pledge, and, at the time of this post, it is already in the 900s... amazing. In the suffrage of patriarchy we must return to compassionate ways of being, of not only sharing it outward, but instilling inwards, after all, you must first begin the healing process within yourself before it can be shared with others. We must learn to be compassionate towards ourselves.

That's a hard one, especially for womyn, who are so used to the dysfunctional programming of our society and peers. The back-talk has become natural, sharing that unwanted behavior and passing it onto our children, our families, our friends, like an unwanted gift, but still, I find value in the unwanted, always finding the treasure in the bottom of the bin.

Someone once asked me if my view of life is too idealistic, too much focus on finding the gift or lesson in things that simply are sometimes shit. I look at it as manure, fertilizer, transforming and growing into something beautiful, but it takes patience, and it does compassion. I once read a quote from Lama Surya who said something to the effect of how shit is sometimes shit, it's not manure unless you know how to use it. I do agree with that -- it reflects back to the notion of awareness. I think it also is indicative of our inner world, of course.

We've been having some amazing conversation in ADC relative to the ethics of spellwork, it really got us all thinking about our view in magick and for me it has given me an opportunity to see what I don't like and where my foundation really is in the magickal world. As I said, I do see value in hexing, when appropriate, but I also see it, mostly, as a last resort. Perhaps it's been my journey through Buddhism that has enhanced my desire to cultivate compassion and looking at magickal endeavors from a loving-kindness foundation.

My practice comes from love. It's not to de-value those who wish to hex or focus on spellworkings or magick as manifestation of will of what you desire, but it's not my focus. My path reflects on devotion, of service to the Goddess, from a place of loving-kindness and compassion.

It's not to say I don't have my shitty moments, moments where I say or do something that in retrospect makes me reflect on how I could have done it better (again, releasing the judgment of the "should" mentality), it is, again, a lesson, another stepping stone in my growth as a spiritual being having a human experience, as Dr. Dyer would say.

I grew up in anger. Surrounded by anger and despising everything, happiness was part time, illusionary, not connected to anything, which always drove my desire for something more, to not buy into the stories around me of how "life sucks and then you die"... no joy, no compassion, no passion for that matter.

Upon my journey into discovering/rediscovering the Goddess, I had more questions, which led me to my apprenticeship into Shamanism, connecting me even further to the three realms, to guides and spirit teachers that my general training in Wicca hadn't provided, at least not beyond the surface level.

It answered internal questions, connected me so deeply in the spirit world, my connection to the other realms is a direct reflection of my 2-year training with Leontine, to which I am grateful.

That training, though, left another spot, another question that began to stir as I first began meeting my guides, specifically my spirit teacher, Kwan Yin, the compassionate bodhisattva. She planted Her seed of compassion in me, and I knew that there was still more training for me to continue with, which in inevitably led me to Buddhism. It was here, from readings and workshops with both Lama Surya and Lama John that my questions of loving-kindness and focusing on awareness that led me to develop a compassionate awareness I had never freed before.

Speaking of compassion, I'm excited to be doing a day-long retreat with Lama John on Saturday: Access our Best Inner Resources for Service and Social Action: Meditations of Natural Wisdom and Compassion. It's right up my ally and will only help further my role as facilitator and priestess in the work that I do. Then Sunday I am teaching another Inner Child Empowerment class which really connects to compassion in how we facilitate the inner child's journey.

It will be a powerful weekend of going within, sharing without, and centering self. I'm excited.

)0(

"Haunted by that same closed door..."

2009-11-11T11:26:00.000-05:00

I can't seem to get "Planets of the Universe" by Stevie Nicks out of my head. I've been singing it to myself all morning, thinking about this past week and the developments (and non developments) that have occurred... the lyric "and the days go by" always pop into my head when I think of weeks like this.

There's been a lot of processing in the dreamworld, in fact I was reading something about lightworkers at this time having "nightmares", and more and more people are confirming this. I admit to being one of those people who, despite being an avid journaler, I do not keep a dream journal. I will write it later in my actual BOS journal, but I don't keep a separate one or bother to write it down the moment I wake up. I've tried, it takes me out of the moment fast for some reason. I do tend to remember my dreams in detail, and as long as I keep the general theme in tact I'm ok with this process for now.

The beginning of these 'nightmarish' dreams began with some EPC with people I have lost touch with or don't connect with much in this life. It was therapeutic, but confirmed the separation in this moment. The progression then shifted to fear, not deep fear, not the kind of fear I'm used to processing through, it was a strange fear, a superficial fear that felt as though its main purpose was for confusion.

Confusion is good, I think it serves to get you out of a stagnant moment and into neutral 'gravity' (relative to the Four Forces). The confusion has actually been a great catalyst for movement in my work...

We were supposed to head to Presque Isle on Monday but things changed Sunday night and the trip was canceled. It was for the better, and I support Drac's decision to not go there at this time. Earlier on Sunday I was packing, getting things together when near the end of it I decided to stop and take some time to do some journaling, some stream of consciousness writing, I felt something surface that needed to be released...

More information came out about the Pyramids that I work from/teach. It's not something relative to one of the DoveStar syllabus/classes, this is something I have been developing for a while and I have introduced it in part to my students in class, but it has only ever been an introduction, I haven't delved into the deeper aspects of it with them, partly because it's my material and I don't want to confuse it by taking it away from the purpose of the actual class intended. It has value in many classes, I know that, but I suppose I'm not ready to present it in a way that could be "borrowed" from someone else when it's material I have been working with for a while.

As I sat down to write, I channeled more information relative to this practice. There was a connectivity to the elements that I had known was there, but I hadn't seen the outline before, not in that manner. It was amazing, it drove me, it made me want to put everything aside and just write a chapter on the practice (which I know will be something to come later). I was thrilled. I AM thrilled. It tied together some of the missing fragments and became the Pyramid of Shifts that I have been teaching. It's active... it's moving and flowing and raising. That's the whole thing, about raising consciousness, and this became more detailed on Sunday night. I'm excited!!

I've been asked by several people just this year alone about writing a book with focus on developing the inner Priestess. It's odd, because while I do consider myself a writer (who joyfully makes many "writer mistakes" and doesn't care!), I've held back from putting my work out there. It's another layer in the illusionary fear that rises to the surface asking for a decision. Even blogging, putting some thoughts out there for others to review and digest is strange and scary, because they're mine. I suspect I felt this way when I first began to teach. In fact, I know I did. Wondering who would want to take my classes because what did I really have to offer that was so different, and yet seeing the variety of students who have taken my classes through the years... it's amazing.

I never thought I would have taught so many classes that I would look back and nearly not remember all of the people, all of these amazing faces who have gifted me with their time, but I have. I ran into 2 recently who came up to me, thrilled to see me, chatting away and catching up... meanwhile I couldn't remember who they were. People come up to me all the time to talk, I've been told I have this energy about me that allows people to release, and I hold that space for them proudly, so I thought this was one of those times. Then to hear them talk about a class that they took with me, going back to the year and describing what it was like for them, I can't even begin to describe how humbling it was, how it brought tears to my eyes to know that my work, just sharing what I know, made an impact. I'm grateful, more than I can say, but shocked that some of these faces are hard to remember. I suppose I had this idealistic notion that I would remember every single one in my class. A naive thought, perhaps, but it came from an innocent child-like notion, and still, that aspect makes me smile.

The book is already written in my soul, it's there, been pieced together carefully with mis-takes and disruption and chaos, both functional and dysfunctional, but it's there. Drac has encouraged this as has my spiritual mother for years, years and years waiting patiently. I recently ranted to Drac, relative to my previous post about the ethics of spellwork, and he smirked and said "just write".

The continued information on the Pyramid of Shifts isn't the focus of the work, but it's a key, a huge key, it's the foundation in which movement and transformation begins. We all talk about the "beginning", having the beginner's mind, looking at this with new eyes, and that's wonderful advice, I work to step into that mindset often when I feel I am out of touch with purpose, but what about the bridge between this mindset and actual purpose? The action, the movement, where is it? Stillness is valuable, but there isn't enough discussion or education on the action of being still, the actual vibration that occurs.

I'm thrilled and excited and feel like the rest of the work is coming together outside of myself. It's within, now it's time to permit it to be without. My general approach to life is all permissive, I'm not a demander, there's no room in spirit for demands, it's the same with self. It all starts with the self.

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Spells & ethics & the "within"

2009-11-06T15:28:00.000-05:00

The past 2 months I've been reading various books, some for personal study, some for reviews, some for research, and the thing that has been surfacing a lot in these readings is about spell work. More than the spell work itself is something that has been not only perplexing me, but annoying me.

Ethics.

There has been a great lack of explanation relative to spells. Like any sincere practicing Witch, you grow tired seeing spell book after spell book being published that has no substance, that lacks a common explanation about not only why certain ingredients are being used and their ultimate purpose, but when and how to do a spell. More importantly, why certain spells should not be done.

The area this is most noticeable is in love spells. Book after book (crap after crap) is out there for the naive and the sincere simply looking for love. Companionship and, oftentimes, loneliness is an easy target for these publishers and authors looking to make a quick buck. It's appalling, and it doesn't give me much hope for what else is to be released.

Don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with spells, or even love spells for that matter, but why have we lost focused, never mind as a society, but as spiritual beings on what true aspect of love we must manifest? Let's not forget one of the most poignant lines in "The Charge of the Goddess":

"...for if that which you seek, you find not within yourself, you will never find it without."

The true Mystery of all of this, be it love, prosperity, protection, is Self. WE are the Mystery, WE are the One, no distortion between Self and Divine, and yet we look outside of ourselves for something we feel is not within. It's sad.

It's an issue of dysfunctional programming. To decipher where that programming stems from, the journey into the Self must begin, peeling away those layers bit by bit, without buying into the notion that if something comes up that we don't like or no longer "need" that we just "get rid of it". "Getting rid" of aspects we manifested for ourselves is in essence getting rid of ourselves. The hollow takes over, and the dysfunction in the shadows reigns, and we are left with an emptiness that isn't equivalent to what Buddhists seek, it's an emptiness that feeds us a belief that we are lacking, and we turn without, believing that we don't possess the Mysteries within.

The most recent books that I have been reading have particularly delved into the love area of spells, telling you to write the names of the one you desire, casting a spell, and then awaiting your lover to come. In general I am quite disinterested in any books relative to spells as a whole, though I do appreciate the kind of spells that I vibrate with: empowering the Self, building stronger connection to the Divine, etc. Those kinds of spells relate more to my practice of devotion, though these are few and far between, they don't seem to make for good sellers in the publisher's eyes.

I had a conversation recently with another Pagan friend about spell work and in particular these love spells I have been reading about and my thoughts of how unethical it is to promote such spell work, with complete disregard for karmic law, or worse, thinking that sharing the one line in the Wiccan Rede "an it harm none, do as ye will" is somehow enough of a disclaimer for the sometimes uninformed reader. It's not! It's not nearly enough.

I looked at it from my personal point of view, of someone possibly reading this book, attempting to cast a love spell on me. There were other irresponsible spells that went as far as to "secretly" feed things to the one you desire. Anyone else thinking of the chocolates Harry Potter received, or Mad Eye Moody and his flask? Fiction, yes? But one never knows the desperate attempts of someone following what they believe is good advice.

Her response to this, my annoyance and disgust? She claimed that if the person the spell is intended for has strong will, has their shields up, is in tune with the Universe that they won't be affected by the spell at all, so the point is completely moot. So that's it? The end? You cast a spell and it's heads or tails on the outcome, if another person is the target it's a game of who has the stronger will? What becomes of, then, for those who perform hexes? If one hexes a rapist to stop their horrific actions, could this be equated to the same will and supposed "strength" of who will be affected and not?

It's often a blurry line of ethics in spell work, and the Wiccan Rede will only guide you so far. After all, if you want to get philosophical about it, can one really "harm none"?

As these studies and reviews plug along, it's been a good exercise in personal desire, stemming back to the Charge and empowering the Mystery within, in hopes that the next generation cultivate their own sense of awareness and strengths from within and utilize what some of these amazing (and even crap) books have to offer: a guideline, a suggestion, not a rule book of how to be or how to practice.

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Canada, here we come... almost.

2009-11-05T10:50:00.000-05:00

We're apparently going to Presque Isle on Monday. There's a lot to work out and we're both not entirely sure why Drac's mom actually has to go, but we're all going. We think she might have something up her sleeve, as she usually does, but she won't clue us in on what that is. I tried to do some research on Drac's brother, to see if we might be able to, somehow, miraculously find him when we're up there, which then got me thinking of his other brother that I have been wanting to find for him for quite some time, but that will take more patience and research on my end.

Years ago I wanted to find information on his father for him. I didn't want to tell him, figured I would go on the only thing I had (his name) and if nothing came up, fine, I wouldn't get his hopes up. As luck would have it, after much research, I found out a decent amount of information and we were able to get some more information from the army about him. To this day it still pleases Drac to know how much work I put into it for him, as he never got to meet his father who died when he was 3 months old in an accident. His mother doesn't speak much about the past at all, so getting information out of her is difficult.

I wish we could be up there longer, to make the most of the trip, but it's incentive to gather more information and keep looking. I've always thought of him as an only child, as, essentially, he is an only child with his adopted mother, but he has 1 brother who he had kept in touch with and 2 others he never saw again after they were put up for adoption. Nimue could have cousins... it's such a strange thing to me, and I have asked if he has any interest in ever finding the other 2, and he does, but I think he doesn't want to do the work, for fear of not coming up with anything and leading to disappointment. It is bringing up a lot, so I can understand. It's made me want to look at my own family ancestry, which is a bit of a challenge as we're the first generation American's and trying to find anyone in Chile is like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

We'll be leaving on Monday and coming back sometime Tuesday evening since Drac has to work on Wednesday and can't take anymore time off since his funeral leave.

I'm saddened by the news that Maine did not pass the legal marriage act for gays on Tuesday. Awful. To be quite honest, I was actually really surprised. If NH could pass it, a state that is supposedly "live free and die" but quite Republican and essentially a step backwards in various aspects, if they could pass this, surely Maine, the state where everyone is free to be who they are, such the relaxed and open atmosphere, would be willing to pass it too. Such a shame.

California, while a surprise to some extent that Prop 8 was even passed, I suppose that when looking at how large the state is and just how many people really don't vote, it was a sad and harsh loss to the LGBT community felt everywhere. With Maine, I thought it would be a victory and a sort of slap in the face to CA and would push them even harder to fight to overturn Prop 8.

The ads were beautiful. I was on vacation in Maine when I saw a couple of them and it brought tears to my eyes to see the beauty and bravery of these families to put themselves out there in hopes that people would see them just as they are: regular people trying to enjoy love, just like everyone else. It's hard to not feel defeated when you hear news like this.

Though, the upside had me thinking of the struggles we've had in this country and how each of those have been overturned for the better. African American's not being able to drink from the same water fountain; womyn not being able to vote, these were huge aspects of our history that shifted, in time, and while there are still those close-minded people who still mentally live in that time of without justice, there are the warriors fighting this fight now, and this, too, will be won. It's disheartening, yes, because we want that time NOW, but it will happen. The upside in all this horrific turn of events is that Kalamazoo passed Ordinance 1856, 62-38%. It is a victory, and we must take each victory with strength, because the losses are hard. It's not lost on me that Obama has signed the hate crime legislation, which is another big step in equality and tolerance. It's days like this that make me sigh a heavy sigh for our world, wondering how much personal, human emotional and compassionate advancements we are really making in our world. There is only love in my Avalon, and I must continue to cultivate a compassionate way of being.

As Gandhi said: "You must be the change you want to see in the world."

Today that quote has whole new meaning for me.

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Last minute trip?

2009-11-04T12:14:00.000-05:00

Last night I was up later than I had intended (but not as late as my general hours of sleep tend to be), journaling and thinking about the "what next" in the scheme of things to accomplish around here, and I feel like things are moving fast, general time is moving fast. We "gained" an hour from daylight savings ending, but I feel like I gave up a couple of weeks for that one hour. Strange.

Some things have come up and Drac and I have been discussing postponing the move for a few more years. Not exactly what either of us wants, but there are a lot of things we are putting back on the table that would make much more sense (in all aspects of life) to stay here for another 5-6 years, hopefully at most. I wanted to be able to be settled in the town we want to live in before Nimue started school, but the sacrifice of that is small in comparison to what we might be able to give our family overall by staying here, plus it'll keep her closer to our family, and I know she needs that. Plus I know it'll help me with some of the long-term goals I have in mind, though it'll put some other aspects on hold.

As they say, everything happens for a reason, right? More importantly, my questions and requests for guidance and signs from the Goddess have been answered, and what I thought might not be possible could very well be. As I said, we'll see. Everything seems to shift in just mere days, and this morning was no exception.

Drac's biological mom called, grieving still from Joe's passing, she is still making plans for her own passing, whether she thinks we're aware of it or not, we know this is the case. She called very early this morning to ask Drac to drive her to Presque Isle, which is pretty much knocking on Canada's door. That is where they are originally from, Presque Isle. Drac has mentioned a desire for us to go there, for him to return to his old home area and see what is left, what has changed, etc. We had talked about doing this at some point, in another year or so, making a trip out of it, but now that his mom has to go up, to get some paperwork there and needs a ride (a 7+ hour drive), he asked quickly on his way out the door for work if we might all be able to go. She wants to go next week, he has Monday and Tuesday off, and frankly there's no way he could do it alone. I'm the late night driver, I'm the one who can virtually stay up all hours of the night and be quite alert. He'd need me there, more than just for driving, I know he'd need us there for support.

Going back will bring back both good and bad memories of his childhood. I'm sure it will for his mother, too, but she keeps much of that to herself. I want to support him, to simply be there and hold his hand. It's quite last minute, and I don't know if this is something we can swing so last minute with potential classes I need to take this month for my CEU's. Financially this is not the best time for this, however I know she will pay for as much as she can, she's quite stubborn that way.

I think it would be nice, too, for her to see Nimue again. She has only seen her as a baby, it has been years, and Nimue just lights up a room, gives you her everything and can heal by her mere presence. Having her there with us would only help, I know.

It would be exciting to go, though, to see where Drac grew up. Granted it would only be for a day, but still, I do love road trips!

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The New Year's Cleanse

2009-11-01T21:36:00.000-05:00

The New Year is beginning with a cleanse of the old -- I went to bed early last night after much fun taking Nimue trick-or-treating and laughing at all the candy people kept giving her because of how cute she is. We didn't hit as many houses, she's still fairly young and it's all about dressing up, but my my did she do amazingly with chocolatly goodness. All in all a lot of fun, though the weather completely threw me off. Last year it was quite cold, briskly New England, yesterday it was in the 70s... warm. Warm on Halloween? Brought back memories of the one year I spent in California as a kid. It's not supposed to be that warm on Halloween!

I have been processing a lot through the dreamworld, last night was no exception. I woke up every 3 hours from strange dream after strange dream, it was this strange alternate universe of what is to the extreme. It was strange, and I felt oddly not strange in it. Confused, yes, but not strange. Today I have been processing through this cold, relaxing and thinking... thinking...

There is something about the school that I am not feeling kosher about. As this is a public blog I tend to never use names of actual people, however I will say that there is something quite sketchy about leaving someone who you essentially work for message after message and have them not return it. It's sketchy, and annoying. This is not a new development, my internal questions about the school. I came back after K's death feeling like things would be moving in a positive direction, feeling like I needed to come back both for me and for the students.

Now?

I've seen things, felt things manifest there, and it's a shift that feels questionable. I came back as a favor, and the person that I felt I could trust has been... well, shady. There's something off, and I don't know what it is since I'm not there that often, and when I am there I am focused on class and I go. The last time I was there in the capacity of listening and observing what I observed was both intriguing and slightly alarming.

This person who I trusted, I've seen her essentially talk shit about everyone, people who we are friends with, and it's made me see that the reverse could also be true, her speaking about me, about my life. I'm not overly concerned about that, about "secrets" that get revealed. It's a fact of life, I don't think any secret is meant to stay secret, and I think that the mere fact of our revealing them makes it clearly not secret anymore.

She's been cavalier about people who work there, about the intelligence of some of the students, of the teachers. It used to be about the service, about the work, about facilitating healing... it's about money now, and I was naive to think otherwise. One legacy left behind debt over progress, another follows suit.

On the home front we are observing another possibility that we have put on the back burner that is now making its way to the surface for us to review: this possibility or moving next year. Both with its pros and cons, this week we're hoping to get some further answers to decide what we'll do next. I've asked the Goddess for guidance here, I will take some time in reflection after this cleanse works through.

Full Moon is tomorrow, theme is: I Have. I'm focusing on gratitude for this moon cycle, something I have been journaling about, also something that Nimue and I have been doing at bedtime for evening prayers. We do a faerie blessing that asks for protection, followed by prayers to the Goddess and focusing on the day's gratitude and blessings we've received, asking for blessings for the family, then story time.

I know there are plenty of Witches/Pagans who come to Witchcraft walking away from a Catholic or Christian upbringing, and equate any form of prayer as being tied to their religion. As someone who was never brought up in either religion, I don't hold the same feelings towards prayer, and in fact as a child really wanted that established in my life. Chanting, spells, prayers, all the same. While it's interesting to note the various ways in which Witches practice, for me my focus is about service and devotion.

I have friends who focus solely on spellwork, those that focus on the science of the Craft, some that deny Witchcraft as a religion and see the art in it only, it's really interesting to note where people stand, where their beliefs are. Nearly time to get my tarot cards out, I wanted to wait until the evening where things would be quiet and I could focus on the cards.

Drac has the next 2 days off and I have a lot on my to-do list, one of which is possibly going to see the Michael Jackson film that's only out for 2 weeks. I admit, I'm curious, and I was saddened by his death. His music brings so many wonderful memories of my childhood, and later it became quite healing during my depression. Then it's time for holiday making! The first project on the agenda: a purple pair of knitted socks for my mother, who has been hinting and hinting for a knitted pair of socks ever since she saw the first pair I made. I will, however, vow to not knit myself a pair with the snazzy multi-colored goodness yarn that I purchased until after the holidays. Really.

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Tricks or Treats, Samhain has come!

2009-10-31T13:04:00.000-04:00

Halloween and Samhain are here -- how did the end of the year come so quick? So much to reflect on, the day already feels like it's simply whizzing by. Thankfully Samhain isn't simply celebrated on today, the 31st. Each tradition is different; when I was in BFC we observed Samhain on November 7th; many traditional Pagans celebrate on October 31st, others continuing through to November 2nd, as well as getting the opportunity to celebrate once more when Lunar Samhain rolls around. This many days of celebrations? Jai Ma!!

I was going to go to my old covenmates tonight for ritual, but she has informed me that she was just exposed to H1N1. She works as a nurse so I imagine being exposed to a variety of illnesses is fairly common, I trust she will be well but sending her light none the less. So, tonight I plan to stay in and enjoy the evening after taking Nimue trick-or-treating.

Our town is one of the few in NH that actually has trick-or-treating ON Halloween. Such a shame that days had to be specifically set aside for trick-or-treating. What has this world come to? Such a shame.

Nimue has requested to be a Princess this year. She picked out her pink ballgown dress, has several wands at her disposal (though found a Disney Princess one at the store that I allowed myself to purchase despite the "Made in China" stamp... grrr), and a purple tiara. When discussing this yesterday, about her outfit, she realized that she didn't have any "Princess shoes"... when I suggested sneakers (as they won't be seen due to the length of the dress) she simply scoffed at me, "No Mommy, that won't work"... to be the parent of a possible fashionista, oh my! Clothes are clothes. I want to make sure they weren't made in a sweat shop, that I'm not supporting a Communist China, and that the fibers haven't harmed... with that said I'm definitely not into fashion in the least.

However, we came to an agreement on the shoes, providing the rain holds off I suggested she wear her "flower girl" shoes that she wore to my sister's wedding this year. "That's a GREAT idea Mommy!" Whew, crisis averted!

She has requested that Mommy dress up as a Witch, which was her request last year and I imagine many more years to come, too cute; and she requested that Drac be a Prince... hm... a Princess and Prince, me the Witch? Perhaps too many Disney movies at work here!

Tomorrow I am planning on doing ritual, honoring the elders who have passed this year and paying homage to my ancestors on the other side. I'm also planning on doing a ritual that I posted on ADC (which reminds me that I must close the gates after today). We've begun our HBWM studies and, in perfect time for Samhain, I want us to do a ritual to meet our Slothwoman.

Z describes this in the beginning of Chapter 1, on page 8:

"My theory is that deep within ourselves, there lives a creature I call Slothwoman (or Slothman). She is our ancestral brain that is the repository for all our racial memories, that controls healing; a sturdy creature, to be sure, but speechless. She is into the elements, this brain: fire, water, and earth. She controls our instinctive behavior. Our sex life would be boring without her help, and generally she is what we deny in ourselves in this modern life.

In order to impress our Slothwoman, we have to do tricks, like making up little rhymes, easy ones she can rock to back and forth, and make a pretty little altar that would turn her on. We can use candles and incense to fascinate her within -- use magic, which is her language, her form.

This sweet gentle giant is the key to our lives; she is body, health, sex, instinct, creativity, and love. She wants securty from us. She wants to be regarded. She wants to be called forth. Otherwise, she can sleep through our modern lives and do nothing. She is Slothwoman, ancestor."

I think it's important for us to identify these ancestors, these guides, in our lives to be able to foster the next steps in spiritual journey. I have decided to make this part of my Samhain ritual this year.

I have a lot on my plate this Samhain -- good thing I like to celebrate on the various days mentioned above! A vision board is on the list, which is a different area of manifestation that I don't often utilize, relative to visualization, my manifestation comes more from the power of words and symbols, so this will be fun to explore and nurture the inner child who loves to paste!

And of course we must not forget the annual new year card reading for the year! I will pull a card tonight, however I plan to do a full reading either later tonight or tomorrow after ritual. Generally I tend to choose the deck I most resonate with in the moment, the one I have worked on the most, however last night in contemplating my approach to this my guides very clearly said that I would benefit from utilizing all of my decks for this reading.

This has been a big year, coming out of my first Saturn Return, the various changes I made in my professional life and the continued changes and shifts in my spiritual life, the cards and utilizing all of them is another layer of expansion. I will choose one card from each deck, some will have focus for each month of the year, while the others will serve as further guidance.

Much to do in such a short amount of time, I'm looking forward to what the New Year will bring, reminding myself to pay closer attention to language and the power of speech, as well as what I am cultivating, but more importantly, how I am choosing to cultivate it.

Blessed Samhain wishes to all, may the wisdom of our ancestors bring a new dimension of growth!

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EPC

2009-10-29T20:54:00.000-04:00

I don't know why, but in general I tend to get a little surprised by people who don't know what EPC is, more particularly spiritual people. Really? Most people have practiced this and have no idea, and in fact I would say that's true about 98% of the students I teach. I suppose it's just the label of which we define it that might not make sense to people, I know I'm certainly one of them at times.

If you don't know what EPC is, it's Etheric Plane Communication. The basic way I like to start discussing this with my students is that it's communicating with another being on the etheric plane. Some will go as far as to describe the etheric plane as the dream plane, though I don't equate the two as being the same, but that's a discussion for another day.

In this communication, you are able to speak with another being and begin the process of healing. You are in a safe space of being able to vocalize what you want to say to another without possible consequences that you might have in person.

Many people do this now, in their daily lives. Have you ever wanted to say something to someone and imagined them as you looked into the mirror, or perhaps spoke to them while driving in your car, having this internal dialogue with them, saying what needed to be said? That is a form of EPC. We all do it. Most people who do EPC tend to equate it with hypnotherapy, but I have been doing this work long before I became a clinical hypnotherapist. Though many traditional hypnotherapists don't define it as such, it's taken on a common practice under alchemical hypnotherapy, which happens to be the type of hypnotherapy I studied and practice.

My practice in hypnotherapy has shifted from my initial training to include deeper aspects of spirituality and shamanism enfolded into the mix. My practice in healing is a direct influence from my daily spiritual practice, my passion cultivating into spiritual rebirthing, all of which I practice in Her name.

Last night I processed through the dreamworld with EPC, and what has slowly morphed out of that has begun another layer of healing on the physical level that was needed, more relative to relationships that I haven't quite let go of in this life, but have simply left ignored, never really dealing with it.

The thing about EPC is that once this form of communication is complete, once you begin this process, there is, inevitably, a shift that not only occurs with you, but also tends to affect the relationship between you and this other person/being. What that direct shift is is individual. There are no case points to say it will be "better" or "worse" (words I choose to shift in my general vocabulary), but there is an energetic occurance that happens that is, to me, quite marvelous. It's not about bending will, nothing in the least to do with that. This is about you, YOUR healing, your perspective, your voice.

Let me be clear, the communication isn't a platform for you to spew out hate, this is about communication, it's done from the core of your spirit, releasing what needs to be released. The object isn't to be hurtful and hateful, it's to find resolution. You say what needs to be said, to their etheric self, while also being open to hearing what they, in turn, have to say. Can you come to an agreement? Do you feel at peace? Has there been a resolution made?

The thing about the inevitable shift that occurs? You must release your attachment to it being your way. We exist in a multitude of planes, thus the results of how this unfolds will also exist in these planes as well. Sometimes it's quite obvious in this waking realm, other times there is a knowing, there is healing that has occurred and it's beyond the need for us to understand it or experience it any further on this physical plane.

My approach to life is quite similar, if not entirely mirroring the way I teach and practice, in that I like things to be done in a permissive manner, and when in doubt, do my best to come from a place of loving kindness. EPC is the same way.

I think we, as a human species, have sometimes lost sight of how to communicate with others. We talk at each other, we don't tend to fully listen, and when we do listen, most of the time it's merely done with our physical ears, not "hearing" with the other senses, which is something I do focus on as an instructor.

Last night's EPC was healing. It was letting go. This morning I saw a physical shift with one of the participants, and with the other I have given myself the permission to walk away, at least for now. The release was necessary, but more importantly I was ready for it. The charge is no longer there. It's another gift in liberation.

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Passing thoughts

2009-10-28T17:00:00.000-04:00

I've been waking up late the past several mornings, mostly due to the cloudy haze and darkness that it still feels like 4 or 5am, so needless to say I go back to sleep. Today I was up early, awoken from strange dreams, the rain has me wanting to curl up with several good books. Or to study. Or knit. Clearly I can't make up my mind this week.

Christopher emailed this morning to say that Ted Andrews had crossed the veil on Saturday. So sad. I was just thinking of his work last week, how "Animal Speak" is quite essential in any Pagan/Witch library. Such a year of loss, so terrible to lose people who have created some amazing and powerful works this year, such as Andrews, as well as Marion Weinstein, watching more and more of these authors cross to the other side. It's inevitable in the cycle of life, still, quite sad to see them go, hoping that what gets left behind is not just the memory of their work, but inspiration in younger authors who will pioneer as well. I'm not seeing much of that lately. Much of what is being published is the same old same old. It's been awhile since I have felt compelled to pick up anything a new author puts out. Then again my tastes have changed considerable.

I think that most of what gets published now is still for the beginner. Much of the gems for those wanting to explore beyond has been there, hidden in the dust, but I think more than that is this realization that when you get to a certain place in your practice no book is going to tell you how to expand further. As a Witch we must go further within, traveling to the realms of our spirit guides and ancestors and studying with them. These books, these marvelous gems that have greatly impacted my life and still hold value is the foundation. How we create the rest of our journey is truly up to us.

Samhain is but a few days away -- planning on taking Nimue trick-or-treating, even if her cold isn't fully gone, it's once a year and she's quite looking forward to it, lots of layers, she'll be fine. I had thought of attending the NH Witches Ball this year, but instead I may head over to my old covenmates for a ritual. It's not exclusive to her coven and she has extended an invitation which is nice. I believe, aside from ancestral honor, there will be focus on a Buddhist Chod practice -- a practice of cutting through the ego.

Aside from being a Witch/Pagan, I am also a Buddhist practitioner. I took refuge vows back in 2004 and, for me, the combination of my Pagan, Shamanic and Buddhist practices and training has all tied together nicely. One has directly influenced the other, and it has flowed. My old covenmate is aware of this. In fact we were both together for my refuge vows and did a White Tara Empowerment with His Eminence Garchen Rinpoche. It was most enlightening, and it created a massive shift in consciousness for me.

I'm also doing a bit of house cleansing around here, preparing for the new year, clearing out the old, both physically and spiritually, and making way to allow for the new.

Also, as Samhain approaches, I will be closing the gates to ADC for another season until Imbolg of next year. I like this approach, allowing it to open at certain times, giving those who really want to be part of this group (and simply not just join for the sake of adding Dianic groups under their belts) a chance to really be part of something that I hold dear to my heart. Hard to imagine how long this group has been going. I was still a girl without a voice, taking over because I didn't want to see it go, and now, it's intimate and safe, and it makes me hopeful for what can happen when you gather in the flesh, because we have allowed ourselves to strip away the layers, and we're each digging and sharing deep within. It's not an easy task, and the atmosphere of permissive energy is quite needed in this oftentimes harsh, patriarchal world. It gives me further hope for what comes next.

)0(

Coming to the Goddess

2009-10-26T17:58:00.000-04:00

At ADC we've begun our book study with Z's HBWM, and upon reading through the intros and first chapter I felt that we needed to begin with sharing what brought us to the Goddess. Z shares in the few first pages about coming to the Goddess, saying "falling in love seems to be the biggest recruiter for the Goddess." It's not the same as our coming out of the broom closet stories, the identification of coming to the Goddess is a huge thing to vocalize, and it felt important for us to begin there. My own story has many parts. Here is what I shared with the systers there:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What brought me to the Goddess?

As I child I longed for some kind of spiritual direction. My parents are non-practicing Catholics, I was baptized in the Catholic church and my religious education in that tradition ended there. Years later my brother made attempts to teach me on his own, from his religious books from CCD, but even then I couldn't identify as God being masculine.

During my childhood years I can recall so distinctly this sense of being attuned to nature -- trees, the Weeping Willow was a guardian, my guardian, even then. I equated Her with safety and familiarity, Her presence, then, wasn't something I identified as Goddess-embodiment. I just knew that talking to Her, talking to, what I felt at the time was simply speaking to myself, was really speaking to Her, the Lady. Nights spent under the moon sharing my soul to what I simply assumed was the void was connectivity in motion, and it wasn't until November of 1995 that I identified that the connectivity was the Goddess.

On Halloween night, 1995, I went out with some friends, attempting one last outing of trick-or-treating as 16 year old's, not dressed up at all, though, I recall the exact outfit I wore to this day. Details that were foggy once before have become so clearer as the years go by.

My best friend at the time was dating a boy who was less than kind. He was verbally abusive, cheating on her, abusing her friends, and sadly she took it, not knowing any different. That night on our way to finding our friend's house, we got lost on a few side streets, ending up in a dead end street that had a couple of abandon houses, near the highway. We turned to leave and there was her boyfriend, along with 2 of his other friends. 3 of us, 3 of them. He had been rude, calculating, playing a game knowing he had her, and essentially us, trapped. One of them took our friend in a choke-hold, punching her, kicking her, suffocating her, while the other took me, proceeding to touch me in places I still cringe to think of in memory. She, my best friend, was meant to watch, to stand there and watch while her boyfriend made crude remark after remark, describing in detail what was being done to us, and she stood, out of body, paralyzed and numb, as we took the abuse he had meant for her.

The other girl, nearly purple at this point, managed to slip out of the grip one had on her, while I stood, paralyzed myself, being touched, being groped at, begging internally for this to stop, yet saying nothing. I think had the abuse been physical, as with our friend, then maybe I would have fought. I had grown up being physically abused at times, I would have fought back... this was new to me, to think that someone would willingly sexually abuse another, it wasn't something I had ever really known.

Her escape, our friend who had been choked, was really the saving grace for our exit, as her screams became louder and louder, all the intentions they had vanished, and their parting threats began what felt like a prison sentence.

I remember that night sitting in the corner of the tub, hot water pouring over me, feeling as though I'd never be clean again, feeling as though I would never ever be safe again... it was a scary place to be.

My friend and I had no plans to sit back and do nothing, though my best friend urged us to forget about it, see it as the mistake that it was and let it go, our friendship soon ended after that incident, and our directions in life turned. Mine taking a leap of faith in the justice system, going to the police and determined to make as much noise out of this as I could, only to have the police turn me away, urging me to even move out of the city I was living in, for the boys who did this came from families that were in prison for things that I didn't know existed in human reality.

Girls in school who had found out what happened told me of their own stories of abuse by their hands, but wouldn't come forward, hoping I would be the one to do it. The other friend, she left, left school, left the city, I never heard from her again.

All of this was in the span of less than 2 weeks after the incident. Less than 2 weeks where I began to fear the solitude and safety of the night I once held so dear, where I no longer slept, where I feared being anything at all.

I don't recall the exact night this happened, but I recall all the details of the night where I had felt my final ounce of hopelessness. I had received a threatening message from them, and I felt the end of everything.

The details of what happened next feels like a novel itself, but to shorten this lengthy post, I tried to take my life that night. It saddens me to think of how desperate, how sad and lonely and scared a child could be to go to those extremes. I share these details, details that were significant in every step of the way, because these steps, that moment of desperation, was the awakening I took in coming to the Goddess.

It was Her voice I heard, somewhere in the inner mindscape, that told me to call for help. It was Her voice that kept whispering in my ear to not give up, to find strength, no matter how small it felt then, and to hold onto that.

I held onto that fear and that pain for quite some years. Bit by bit shedding the layers, transforming and releasing, She was the one who sat with me during the years of depression I had, helping me to hold onto the light that was within, especially at my weakest, embracing the Goddess within.

This Samhain marks 14 years since that has happened. A horrible memory embraced by the realization of how powerful a day the New Year can be.

It's from that incident that so many other marvelous things began to unfold, such as the healing work that I facilitate, especially for the empowerment of womyn. As Richard Bach says, "You teach best what you most need to learn", and it was a great deal of processing, with the safety and love of the Goddess by my side, that my own lessons of empowerment began to rebirth.

This time of year I am always reminded of that time. Of a 16 year old girl who retreated internally and sat enclosed in a web of fear, but emerged, from the fear, with the fear, without throwing any parts of myself away, all from coming home to the Goddess.

)0(

Witch's Woods & Celebrate Samhain

2009-10-26T15:10:00.000-04:00

It's Monday. Somehow I'm not in October and the month isn't drawing to an end and Samhain isn't just right around the corner... I had so much planned for this month, however the energy of this month had other plans for me, which has proven to be necessary, but the return to commitments is more prominent than ever.

Friday my brother-in-law and his girlfriend took us out to Witch's Woods since she wanted to go on a haunted hayride, which I admit to have never experienced, and by the next day my throat was completely soar and stripped of any dignity from all the screaming I did. Serious wimp! But it was quite a blast and I think we all needed that. We needed a day to laugh and be silly and ridiculous, and I'm pretty sure my general reaction to the haunted happenings surrounding me provided much comic relief more than the actual event itself.

I have this thing, this strange thing where if I go to something haunted like this (which hasn't been in a few years now), the characters there love to follow me. LOVE to follow me. I am a character's dream come true. I scream at the right times, I laugh that nervous "please don't get me" kind of laugh, and, if I didn't think I would trip from my general clumsy nature, I'd probably run screaming in the other direction. All in good fun, but I realize how dorky my presence really is, thus, providing wonderful comic relief for those who join me.

Friday night was no exception. I screamed and screamed... Nimue, who was slightly frightened (though I had tried to show her some video of the place before hand to get her a general idea and her only response was "OH MY!"), she, however, did not scream. No screaming. Covered her face at the monsters, though was quite excited to see the witch who gave her a high five and told her she was now protected (how cute!), however, no screaming. I told her it was all silly stuff, people putting on makeup to make us laugh and scare us because, in the end, it was funny... Drac said I might not have been a good example of how not to be scared, seeing as how scared I was.

The makeup job was great, and the volunteers really stayed in character, I was impressed. Now, I'm not a horror aficionado, not by any means, so someone who is really into scary movies and horror might have a different opinion, I don't know, but it amused/frightened me, and it proved to be an awesome night! We're hoping to make it an annual event with my brother-in-law and his girlfriend.

We got home late, only to rise quite early to head to Peterborough for Celebrate Samhain. It was at the Peterborough UU, which was lovely, but the vendors were quite squeezed in together which made it a bit tight for browsing. Nimue and Drac went into the kid's area for some crafting while I went upstairs for the spirit communication workshop.

Jeannie, my bil's girlfriend, wanted to attend the workshop but didn't want to go alone. I'm interested in spirit communication, but wasn't feeling called to the workshop itself, but knowing she wanted to go I went with her, knowing it would still be worth attending.

The presenter was good and the information helpful to many in the audience, I could see that. It wasn't new information for me, but then again in a 45 minute workshop you are needing to present the basics in hopes that it intrigues someone enough to want to explore further workshops and training with you. Condensing material is hard. But I appreciated his discussion about children and reclaiming those parts of ourselves that believed in this stuff -- I wanted to stand up and say "I teach Inner Child Empowerment, let's gather!"... self promotion much? Ha, but that's a first for me, wanting to promote myself in such a manner, or promote at all.

The following workshop was what I wanted to attend, Chanting: The Ancient Art of Sound. I enjoyed Karagan a lot, he was such a character and really presented the workshop quite well. I love chanting, but this was a different perspective on invoking the Goddess and God through humming, which is not something I've done before. I tone, I chant, but hum? It was really amazing though, and the energy raised was powerful. It hardly felt like 45 minutes at all!

I missed the Kitchen Witch workshop due to the fact that driving through Nashua proved to be the bane of my existence yet again. Not very spiritual, no, but there is something about my relationship with Nashua that I can't ever seem to go through there without getting lost. Never! I was disappointed to have missed that, the womyn leading the workshop just gives off this amazing energy.

Christopher got a chance to see Nimue and Drac again, it's been years since he's last seen them and she was excited to meet Christopher. Got to see the new brochures for his Temple, later attended the workshop. He also commented on the shortness of the presentation, taking a 3-4 hour course into 45 minutes. It's not easy. I've been asked to shift a 16-hour weekend course into a one-day 8 hour course, it's a challenge! In fact I have been asked recently to do that again with my Prosperity workshop. Though I take the mentality that you get the information you most need, no matter the length of time, it's all trivial anyway. It's in the moment and non-linear.

I ran into some old friends, met some new people. My commitment to remain in NH and be part of the Temple, as well as cultivate a more cohesive practice for my work, is high on the mind right now. I want to find a place that not only allows us to grow as a family and provides all of the things we want but feel we're lacking here, but I am hoping that it will also produce an area (a workshop area, even an in-law apartment) where I can create my own work place. Drac is on board with this and excited, now it's just a matter of finding something within our price range. I'd like to be able to offer private workshops that allow others to travel to me vs the opposite.

I don't mind the traveling, but I have grown tired of it, and I don't want to give everything to DoveStar. They were a great place for me to gain my footing, but with the transitions that seem so up in the air, I don't want to focus all of my energy there. That's their place, not mine. My work there needs to be by their standards, which have both good and unnecessary functions, but I am also not able to cater the material the way I feel it is being called to.

I'm planning on creating a vision board for Samhain, though probably not directly on the 31st, I may consider doing it on the 1st or leading up to Lunar Samhain on the 16th. It's right around the corner, all here moving forward...

)0(

Happenings

2009-10-23T13:41:00.000-04:00

I feel like a week has gone by, disconnected from the cyber world and anything else outside of my immediate bubble, I have held space for those who needed me to share my strength while finding my own renewal in the process of release.

The wake was yesterday, and I hadn't anticipated actually getting to physically see Joe there. I was told he would be cremated. And he will be, today, but I thought it was happening the day before, so I had images of seeing his urn and his picture there, not him, himself. That took me back. As I've said before, this is a new process for me, I have only been to 2 other wakes. One was my stepfather's mother who, out of the 3 kids, I was the only one who met her a couple of times, so he asked me to go, and I did, to support him. He asked me to go to the casket, and again I did, but I didn't stand too close, it was a strange notion being there.

The second wake was for my husband's friend, essentially like a brother, who was cremated before the wake due to the severity of his injuries. I didn't know him or ever had a chance to meet him, but I was there to support my husband.

Last night was different, having come to know Joe and have him be family, I was reminded of funny moments and shared them with the family, not to distract, but to share. It was good for us all to laugh. I was overcome by emotions going up to him, waiting, like a small child, for him to wake up. His spirit was clearly there, many of us physically felt him, I know I did, and I held space in my heart with gratitude that he was in the arms of the Goddess, and that his renewal would be in perfection. Though it was hard to watch my MIL, a very strong womyn, unsure of what would happen next.

I had overheard her (though I think she meant for me to overhear) talking to the people at the funeral home and making plans to come in next week to finalize her own services. It's not surprising, but I just wish she didn't have to do this alone. That's how she wants it though, and we all need to respect her process of life and grief and death, whether we agree with it or not.

I had class on Wednesday with Christopher, and while I wasn't feeling entirely grounded, I wanted to be there. I felt like I wouldn't be a distraction in my flight, but that I needed to feel that sense of community around me, and I was glad I did. The class itself was great, past life is a passion of mine and our journeys to these lifetimes was filled with much information that I am quite excited about delving further into the mysteries of that time and come away with the tools that are awaiting me.

I also had a very powerful journey earlier that day to my spirit guide and got some wonderful information relative to where we are now, information that has been on my mind and he made clarifications to the process. Someone once made this joke that I don't have a sense of linear time because I am so in tune with the spirit realm, which is may or may not be true, but I feel ultimately connected to the Source, and to the guides and devas all around, and I am open to their guidance.

I was reminded as I listened to everyone sharing their experiences that some are very new to this path. It is, after all, Witchcraft I. Christopher and I had spoken before I joined that it was unnecessary for me to come in at level 1, but the perpetual student in me likes to start from the beginning, something he and I share. There are a few of us who are clearly not beginners, but returning to the beginner's mind is something we each seem to either want or need for this moment, and it's nice to have that mix within the group.

One of the students made this remark at how clearly I am experienced in this work, and I didn't really say anything relative to that statement, but rather continued speaking about the topic at hand about community. It was a continuation of what he had brought up during class that I could completely relate to and it was nice to have a one-on-one conversation about community and how to foster it. It was so in the moment it was perfect.

I've heard remarks over the years at how "seasoned" I am. I don't know about that. I have worked hard to establish more than a spiritual practice, but a way of life, a way of being. I have worked hard to reprogram that aspect of myself that falls prey to the dysfunctional ways of being and thinking in this world. That's not to say I don't have plenty of moments of being completely connected to it, but I don't want to simply view things in life as being "better or worse". I'm finding the magickal in the "mundane" and learning from each experience.

A friend once asked if I was simply looking for the good in everything because I didn't want to face the bad.

No.

It's not about good and bad. I don't identify with good and bad. I'm not trying to make a "bad" outcome "good". I'm trying to see more of the magick in the circumstances around me that I have convinced myself (or believed from others) were not magickal. It's not replacing, it's all awareness. And really, doesn't it always come down to the fundamental aspects of awareness anyway?

After class Christopher and I had a long conversation, which could have easily gone on longer had it not gotten so late and he had class the next day and I had the wake. But it was a marvelous conversation, one that I needed to have with someone on this path. We have said in the past that we have quite similar beliefs and ways of practice/teachings, etc, and after class I needed to be able to express this thought in my head that had been surfacing to get an opinion and viewpoint outside of myself but with someone who had a similar way of understanding my thought process as well as someone who I could trust.

The conversation proved to be perfect timing and exactly what I needed. We spoke about what I had clumsily discussed as being "alien" and he had identified more as "the other", which I much prefer. He understood, he got it, and I wasn't alone in that moment of being.

He could see my sense of being different and feeling that in certain times more than others, and he, too, has those feelings. Beyond the scope of "oh I'm so different', no, even further into being "the other" even within our own community. It's hard to explain without starting from the beginning.

He spoke about the Wheel, and how most people identify with the notion of up = good, down = bad (and funny timing because I had blogged about that earlier that day, the synchronicity was nice and made me smile), and then there's the center. He said I work from the center, so I don't always identify with the up and down realities that others express, thus the feeling of the "others". It's not to say I don't step out of the center, because I do, but it's not my primary area of focus. He shared a story that was quite helpful in his own experiences of stepping out of the center, and it was affirming to hear it, and warming to hold that space of trust between us to share these kinds of thoughts and feelings.

Tomorrow I'll be seeing him again for Celebrate Samhain. Drac and Nimue will both be joining me which will be nice since they both have not seen Christopher since Nimue's baby blessing... quite some time! Looking forward to celebrating and perhaps attending the Kitchen Witch Workshop, though I am really interested in attending the workshop on Chanting: The Art of Sound. Another passion of mine, I'd love to see what new perspective I can gain from this! Love chanting, love it!

Tonight, however, my brother in law is still in town with his girlfriend and they're treating us to an evening out for Halloween Haunted happenings! We'll be bringing Nimue along, hoping not to frighten her too much, but there are other activities that she'll be able to enjoy and partake in, even if I have to sit out a few things and do it on my own afterward that is fine, I don't want her to be too scared, but I also would like her to see it's all in good fun and, ultimately, silly. Though I'm not sure how convincing I will be in explaining that when I am so easily frightened!

)0(

...And the days go by

2009-10-21T15:48:00.000-04:00

"The bright light is lying down
The earth and the sea and the sky
Is at rest with the ocean
And the days go by

They go into the seas that have no shores
Haunted by that same closed door
Looking up at skies on fire
Leaving nothing left of us
To discover"

I have this song in my head at the moment, singing over and over the line "and the days go by". The days certainly have felt like they have gone by, quite fast, like months have been processed through in mere days. Days. Just days. It's a strange place to be, but it's the moment, this moment. It's now.

The wake is tomorrow. While death itself isn't easy, and I'm certainly no authority on it since I haven't experienced it much around me (thankfully), it's a completely different field of energy than I can speak on.

Saturday night when I got the news I was tremendously sad. Sad for all of us, this carried through to Sunday, where it began to shift to confusion. I'm familiar with Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' 5 stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance), and in reflection I'm wondering if I have processed through them, if anyone actually processes through them in this transition of loss. Perhaps, but I have this level of acceptance that I am judging.

I had a long talk over the past few days with my spiritual mother. She is one that I can share the essence of what is going on in my inner landscape and not be judged, because she, herself, actually gets it. She gets it. There's no need for clarification and explanation, and that's a comfort. There's no judgment, just space. Space to share and be without diagnosis.

While this isn't something that can simply be explained in a blog entry, my process through human emotions is something I have tried to dissect. It goes back to the notion of "enough" and what is truly "enough".

I am sad for what has happened, and in this reality I have mourned the loss, but in the spiritual realm I know he is being embraced by the Goddess, and the healing/resting process before the transition to the next life feels comforting. Life, indeed, does go on, and I think the gift of this transition has been a quality reflection of self. Reflection itself is key, my key, as it was presented to me yesterday, and tonight's class with Christopher will be delving into past life.

It's one of my favorite subjects: past and parallel lives. Love it! It's something that makes sense to me. The lessons, the tools, the lost parts of self, the integration and release... it's a beautiful and delicious process. When you give yourself permission to release expectations and truly *BE* in the moment with the lifetime(s) presented to you, you become open to possibilities. I love possibilities.

One of the systers in ADC was talking about where she is and the reflective questions of: where am I; what do I want; what really matters to me in my life is something that we come across in several portions of our lives, sometimes with a fuller awareness or more willingness to dissect our inner realm, these reflective questions seem almost more apparent at a time of death.

Where am I?

I see the image of an escalator going up, no rails on the sides, and I step off on the 3rd or 4th step, not out of fear, but in movement. Up is not up, down is not down. That's just relative. It's movement. It's always about movement. It has nothing to do with steps. Steps are pure illusions... it's an excuse. These steps are my excuse. Steps forward are equated with a good action; taking a step backwards is considered, essentially, undesirable. Why? Programming. You go up, it's good, irregardless of connection to what religions compare to up equaling Heaven, down Hell, blah blah. It's just about movement. Where am I? I'm in motion. Forward, yes, and backwards. I need the backwards. I'm not done with those lessons yet. I'm not done learning what balance in this lifetime is really all about.

What do I want?

That is a manifestation in process... another lyric from the song that speaks to this question:

"No doubt, no pain
Come ever again, well
Let there be light in this lifetime
In the cool, silent moments of the nighttime"

What really matters to me in my life?

My spirit says: truth. Like a banana, the peel is just the layer of what truth is all about. The core is inside, the good... eh, the "good"... judgment again... the delicious layer of life. Though I've only recently started liking bananas... but I digress...

It will be nice to be the student tonight. Not that I don't love facilitating these style of classes, but it's also nice to be the student now and again. My brother in law has arrived and I feel good about stepping out for a little while, and Drac seems to have processed through this well, though we both know that what's really got us concerned is Drac's biological mother. She's dying herself, and it's more apparent now, and yesterday she told him she wasn't sure how much longer she had, and I can sense there is an essence of readiness and this want to leave, now that her husband of all these years has left. I know that won't be an easy transition here, and my hope is that she will lay down the stubborn fence long enough to include us in transition, not for her sake, but for Drac's.

Right now I am just desperate for a nap, tired from the past couple of days, I'm hopeful tonight being in the energy of the class that I will feel a little more grounded. I'm looking forward to tonight. Hard to believe it's our last W1 class. A year has gone by already? Amazing.

)0(

Processing through loss.

2009-10-18T15:18:00.001-04:00

It's one of those days where whatever intention you had in mind seems to simply disappear without much thought. I'm at a loss for words, and I'm processing through a loss that I'm not sure how to process through just yet.

I was supposed to be at Christopher's workshop/fundraiser today, was quite excited about it, looking forward to connecting with new people and just being able to be part of something so fun, but this morning about a half hour before I was set to go, unable to fight back tears, I called and pulled out.

Let me back up a moment...

Yesterday I was finalizing last minute details with my brother who was coming to babysit today while I went to this workshop. After we hung up it was time to get Nimue ready for bed and after brushing her teeth my phone rang. It was the default ring so I figured it was Drac calling from work, and I asked Nimue to get it while I getting a couple of things. I missed the call and figured I'd check the message after I put her to bed, so I had her hop into bed and wait for me to come do storytime with her when I decided I might as well check the message now, to get it out of the way.

"Hi honey, it's Mom. Joe died this morning." Click.

I just sat there in shock. Even typing this up, sitting here in this moment, I'm still in shock. I burst into tears and could not stop crying, and the next thing I know Nimue has her little arms wrapped around me allowing me to just fall apart in her sweet arms saying tenderly to me, "it's ok Mommy, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere"... it still brings tears to my eyes remembering that moment.

She asked what was wrong, what happened. I explained that Nana's husband, Grampa Joe, had gone to the Goddess. She only met him once, she doesn't remember him, but she knew this was a sad thing for me to process through, just as when K had died, wow, coming up to a year next month, she said "don't worry Mommy, we'll find him, I'll find him for you"... the innocence of children is so tender.

Joe is Drac's stepfather. He's married to Drac's biological mother, the one who accepted me from the get-go of our relationship unlike the adopted MIL I have. She accepted me into the family, without question, and our relationship was quite strong for many years. Joe was always around, a sweet and playful man, we drank the same tea... I can still see myself in their kitchen running low and him pouring me a cup, then proceeding to head to the fridge to pour some milk into his glass, which always made me both shudder at the notion but secretly want to try it.

They moved out of their home and we didn't see them nearly as often as we once did. They met Nimue once, and we kept in touch with my MIL over the phone, though Joe had always been at work when we phoned.

We knew his health was declining. Diagnosed with lung cancer he seemed to be doing as well as could be expected, but then he started to have blackouts more and more frequently. Still, this naive notion in my mind told me that he'd be ok, that everything would be ok.

Even last month I was told he had been diagnosed with brain cancer. The day before my class with Christopher where we would be doing psychic diagnosis I was informed of this. And even then, still, I thought he'd be fine. I did. I really, really did.

I never thought to go visit. I never thought to hop in the car and see how he was doing, to really ask what I could do for them. I didn't think to do this because I didn't think there was anything that needed to be done... I thought he'd be fine.

He had been moved to a facility during this time, trying to help him get better, but maybe instead they were there to help make his transition easy. I don't know. The thing about Drac's biological mother is that she's a very proud womyn. She grew up and battled things that no womyn should have to battle, and giving up her children was no easy feat, I know. But she's stubborn as hell, and she's the first to admit it! She won't ask for help, she doesn't want help, and even when things are horrible she won't tell you until it's past the point of being awful and taking a turn for the better, or when it's headed south and there isn't much to be done. She, herself, suffers a great deal of medical problems. We've been surprised at how long she has managed to stay alive despite what the doctors have said. And while I know western medicine isn't always definitive in its diagnosis, she has survived things that most people couldn't, or wouldn't.

When she told me about Joe's brain cancer and I told Drac he was concerned. I wasn't. Why wasn't I more concerned? Why? Why did I think something that advanced would be able to keep him alive indefinitely? Because there's this childish notion inside that thinks good people won't die. This is my first real process through death, and it's full of questions and confusion, as though I were a child asking the hard questions of her parents.

I'm a 30 year old womyn who has never been to a funeral. To most this is an amazing feat. It's not to say my relatives haven't passed, I have lived through 2 wonderful aunts who I have loved who are no longer here, but I was a child when it happened, living in the states while they were in Chile, so I didn't see them at their end. I still only see them now, my Tia Meche teaching me to make homemade mayonnaise, going through dozens upon dozens of eggs, always patient, never scolding, until I got a batch right. Or my Tia Connie, who was a very poor womyn but spent more money than we could imagine how valuable it was to them just to buy a silly girl a bottle of orange soda whenever she came to visit.

I have this naive notion whenever I return to Chile that they're simply not here during my visit. It's childlike, yes, in a protective and secure way, but I kind of like it that way. My mother had taken me to see Tia Meche's grave site when we were last there. I didn't want to, but she asked, so I said yes. I had silent tears there, because it wasn't her. It may have been, what I said to my spiritual mother today on the phone, her "post office", but it wasn't her. She was everywhere.

Even when K died, the funeral was for the family only. There was a memorial for her DoveStar family, and I processed there, even though I didn't feel her gone.

My process through death is one where the spirit side of myself celebrates their growth, their expansion of self, their journey forward to their next life... I haven't yet figured out how to process through it from a human perspective, because it's so new to me.

You see the process around you: smiling means you're happy, so when others smile, you smile; crying means you're sad, so when others cry, you cry. I'm crying, for Joe, for my MIL, for Drac, because it's a loss, it's sad, but I don't know what else, how else, I'm supposed to feel.

If the shoe were on the other foot, if this is what my students or clients were going through I would tell them to simply be, as much as they can, in that moment, just breathe and be. The judging is inevitable. What we could have done, what we should have done, what we'll do now. That's the obvious next step. Death makes us reevaluate our relationship with others, so we feel the importance and the need to express love and gratitude everywhere, until that becomes old and tedious, and we return to our ignorant and unconscious ways.

We didn't come by enough. What's enough? We didn't express our love enough. What's enough? These questions. These fucking questions that play over and over, because you feel angry and you feel the need to be angry AT something... when it's all judgment towards yourself. The mirror turns and you look at what you could have done. It's a mind-fuck of a game. I don't want to participate in it.

I don't know what happens now. This is new to me, and it makes me nervous, like a small child, afraid of what will become lost next. It's not to dwell, just awareness. Joe was family.

Was.

It's not even a day and I'm already "was'ing" him. He's no longer an "is". I don't know what to make of that. I don't know how to process through that. And I know I keep saying that, but I really don't. I feel like I should know. I'm judging my level of processing here. From the spiritual perspective I am saddened but hopeful for his spirit... and part of that translates to this realm of reality, while the other feels alien to process of grief.

I've grieved for lost parts of myself. I've grieved for loss. I've never really had to grieve for family. And I have questions. Questions like: was he in pain? Was he alone when it happened? Did he know he was dying? Did he have regrets? Was he at peace?

Just questions upon questions.

The veils are thinning day by day as Samhain approaches, and honoring his spirit will be appropriate, but I wish... I just wish...

I just wish for his happiness, beyond the realms, I just want him to be in peace. And I hope that he is feeling fully embraced by the loving arms of the Goddess, who is comforting me and embracing me now as I learn the lessons of loss.

Joe, I am having a cup of tea with you, laughing at how many times you kicked my ass in Uno.

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