Food Magic

When I was growing up, my parents would occasionally pick up sandwiches and macaroni salad at a nearby delicatessen. The sandwiches would be accompanied by the most wonderful, crisp, bright green pickle spears totally unlike the ones sold in jars. Later I would learn that these are called "half sour" pickles, and although I could find them (refrigerated) in some New York City and upstate New York stores, I never found them elsewhere in the country. 

At some point this summer, the local Farmer's Market was awash with pickling-sized cucumbers, and I bought some, thinking vaguely that I would try my hand at this for the first time. It was only as something of an afterthought that I specifically looked up recipes for half sour pickles, and discovered that it is a really simple process involving salt water, garlic, peppercorns, and a few other spices. After four days or so in the refrigerator, voila, delicious half sour pickles! The moral of this story? After nearly an adult lifetime of looking "without", I was able to do it myself!

The other food magic of the summer was living only about a five minute walk from a natural foods store. Because there is no other major supermarket around, virtually my entire diet came from this source and the Farmer's Market. In recent years, my diet has vacillated widely, from "ramen noodles and fast food dollar menus" to vegetarian, to traditional American meat and potatoes (bought at the supermarket) to all of the above, depending on where I lived and with whom. But never before have I spent a long stretch of time consistently eating such healthy food. It shouldn't have surprised me, but it did -- my body clearly appreciated this change, and the lower levels of sugar and preservatives. This fare was more expensive, but that was offset by so rarely eating fast food or as many of the kinds of snacks that make me hungrier. It was a blessing to fall into good habits. It scares me a bit to realize that not all living situations will be so perfectly situated; I know I could fall back into less healthy eating habits within a matter of seconds. I will try to remember the feeling of my body saying "yes" to foods that are more aligned with nature. 

Saying Yes -- to What?

For years, a phrase has been in my head and, to a certain extent, it has guided my thinking; that "this is a yes-based Universe". I have been assuming that I had heard it in an Abraham-Hicks audio, but just now I couldn't track down my exposure to the concept. Anyway, it is the notion that whatever we put our attention to -- whether they are possibilities or events or conditions we love, or possibilities or events or conditions we hate -- whatever we pay attention to will manifest and grow. Our attention is the equivalent of saying "yes" to aspects of life, and they will grow fastest if we are passionate. This is great when we are passionate about the positive, but hellish when we are passionate against the negative.

I am old enough to remember countless "wars" -- the war on poverty. The war on drugs. The war on illiteracy. The war on homelessness. The war on terrorism. We have fought disease (and are currently fighting COVID). We are fighting climate change. We are fighting racism, violence against women and many other groups, oppression, poverty, inequality, and financial extremes. Most of our current institutions either foster these conditions or fight them. For people of good conscience, all of these are extremely undesirable conditions. And yet in my lifetime, the harder we have fought them, the worse most of them seem to have become. When have we ever "won"? By fighting, or giving things angry attention, we reinforce the extremes and the duality; we unwittingly say "yes" to the negative situation and to constant conflict. We, ourselves, become angrier, and dragged down into the most spiritually- empty places of all, hopelessness, rage, despair and deadness.

Right now, on a global level, it seems like every major news event is giving us the opportunity to wake up and move beyond conflict. It is hard. It goes against all of our instincts to turn our backs on people in trouble, not to actively fight for them. (And, no, turning our backs only to pursue enrichment and fun for ourselves is not a spiritually-viable option!) But once you realize that fighting always creates more conflict, there is only one way to proceed: using all that passion energy to create a completely new paradigm of peace, harmony, love of "the other" and nature, health, beauty and unity. The energies of conflict and creation are completely different, and they will feel different in our bodies and souls. It's hard work, in fact, to shift the numbness and fatigue that so many of us are experiencing. Unwittingly having said "yes" to negativity and conflict over a lifetime takes a huge toll, and it's hard to find the energy to create, especially over 60. I am clearly seeing the manifestation of some of my own inner and outer conflicts right now, in my body and in my spirit. But perhaps there is a gift in exhaustion. Whatever "it" is, whatever crisis is in the ascendent, I cannot fight it any more. What little energy I have left must go to my small role in creating an entirely new, unified, love-filled paradigm. Even if I must re-focus a dozen times a day, even if I must remind myself of it in this blog a dozen times a year, I need to keep saying yes -- to love and life. To a better, conflict-free future. To more beauty and love than I think I can stand. Yes.

Power

For a few days, I am exploring several options that may be available to me going forward. I am trying not to look at these so much as "housing" options, as the life options that might potentially allow me to act more powerfully going forward. Coincidentally (or not!), I picked a "Horse" oracle card, which suggests "power".

I did a search, and it is interesting that I use the word "power" quite frequently in this blog, but it doesn't look like I have used it as a title yet, in nearly 550 posts! Indeed, I had to look up the definition of the word, because when I tried to define it off the top of my head, I failed completely. "Possession of control, authority, or influence over others"...Hmm. This primary definition seems pretty old paradigm to me, with its implication of power in relationships "over" other people (or, presumably, the environment...) And perhaps that is why I have never thought of myself as being "powerful".  Most of the time, I have felt singularly powerless in the world. I have always known that I have inner powers -- creativity in writing, music and art, intuition, intellect, some wisdom -- but have these inner powers created a situation where I was in control of others or even (in any real way) of my own life? Even when I have felt authoritative, has anyone else considered me to be an authority? Have I yet been influential "over" others? Hardly at all. It is like, until now, my power has exuded from within me out to maybe a foot or two beyond my arms, and then it fizzled out. And frankly, I don't want power "over" others, or control "over" others. That's part of the duality construct that I hope is losing its hold on us.

So it is important for me to try to define, for myself anyway, what it would mean to "act powerfully". In a more unified vision, there is only one divine stream and one divine power, love. It just is, it just flows, and as a human being in that construct, I don't need "power over" other beings. I just need to focus on love and flowing with love. What path will allow me to do the things I most love to do? What path will allow me to model love and beauty, and add more of them to the world in the unique ways that I do best? What path allows me to share love with others and the environment? What path helps the world transition from "power over" to "sharing the power of love with"? 

May I have the wisdom and discernment to sense the way forward, with these queries as my guide.

The Slide

Several times over the years, I've mentioned this phenomenon, which perhaps some of you have experienced. You reach some kind of new spiritual level, have a new epiphany about something in your life, or you finally understand something that has eluded you for decades. Then, wham, you slide down into depression or fear.

Last week, as I wrote about last time, I reached a new level in embracing my contemplative nature, and for about 24 hours, I was happy, contented, and completely at home with myself. It was lovely, lovely, lovely. Then the downward slide commenced. Every criticism I have ever received from anyone about being an artist, a musician, being too smart, or "thinking too much" appeared in my consciousness. All the hurtful, dismissive comments, and all the pain of trying to be me, alone in a world that values action and competitiveness over beauty, "beingness" and wisdom...it hit like one of those tsunamis I wrote about a few years ago. The takeaway? "Look where 'being you' has gotten you all these years. You barely have one item of clothing without holes in it. Where is 'being more you' likely to get you?!" Fortunately, a good meal reversed the slide. I mean, a delicious, unique, homemade, healthy food meal. Just the tiniest bit of nurturing revived me. 

And while I have surely followed the news about Afghanistan less closely than most Americans, it was impossible over the weekend not to deeply feel that situation's tragedy and hopelessness, adding to the bleak mood. Indeed, the further out into "post-duality"-land I seem to find myself, the more tragic and hopeless all our wars (military and otherwise) seem to become. It made me wonder if what I experience is happening globally. Perhaps there are lots more people than we realize reaching higher levels of consciousness and harmony. In response, the "old voices"/"old ways of being" are rising up, trying to push us communally down the slide and back into the swamp of fear and chaos, which is the only language they know, and the only power they know.

How to move upwards again? One person at a time. Allow ourselves to be nurtured. Feed a friend or Mother Earth. Notice something gorgeous in nature or art. Help someone. Swim in a lake or walk in the countryside. Read a good book, or sing a good song. Dance a little dance with the squirrels in the yard. Hug someone. Donate to an organization that is uplifting humanity. Write a poem. Notice the sunlight on the flowers in the garden.Try to imagine a world fixated on these beautiful things. Try to imagine a world where these kinds of experiences are the only "reality", because I believe that is where we are headed. Truly. 

Contemplative

These last few weeks, events in the world and conversations with people have brought me a great deal of clarity. It built on the time of being "locked down" during COVID, and the realization that I was happier with relatively little activity out in the world than I usually am with lots of running around.

With every passing day, I accept it more fully; I am a contemplative. If I am not singing, or creating artwork, or writing, I need vast amounts of quiet time to access what appears to be the wisdom of past and even future lifetimes, or to read books by other spiritually-inclined writers, or to simply stare into space and try to figure out the "why's" of everything. This summer has helped me fully embrace this, for which I am grateful. I recently told a friend about my experience (described in my April 4, 2016 blog post) of falling, crying on the floor of the room in Norwich, England that represents Julian of Norwich's anchorage. This experience was so unlike me, so unexpected. I barely knew anything about Julian's writing then, or even now. But something in my soul knew a kindred spirit (and her milieu) when I saw her. To be metaphorically on the other side of a door from a cathedral evensong service, and a window away from a bustling world, is my place. I am accessible, open to questions, longing to share what I know and the artistic and musical beauties and mysteries that are in me. I am just not the appropriate person to fix the world's wrongs, if, indeed, there is such a concept in post-duality land.

Inevitably, the question comes. In a world going mad, how is this contemplation relevant or helpful? In a time such as this, heck, at any time, how are artists and musicians and poets and mystics of any practical use? I guess all I can say is, someone needs to hold/express the energy of beauty, unity, peace, joy, and truth. Merely "holding the energy" takes extraordinary energy. It is a full-time job. And I finally accept that many people will never see these occupations as entirely valid. I (and people like me) may never be "paid" for our time, or widely praised or recognized. It's not "OK", but at my age, I am too tired to try to be someone different.

This week, I have been doing some research into contemplative communities and hermitages, trying to figure out my next step. So far, what I have seen is just not quite right. It hits me that I am my own contemplative community. The abbess of my own order of the divine feminine, just (so far) without the appropriate space or an actual community. How this helps me "find a home" in the next two weeks or so, I don't know, except that it's nice to come so close to finally accepting one's role in this world. It's almost like being handed a beautiful, glowing jewel or passing your final exam with flying colors. The long, winding road did its job.

The Bigger Picture

For all of us, a personal narrative is playing out against the backdrop of a much bigger world picture -- collapses both political and environmental, climate chaos, and coronavirus. To be experiencing any measure of personal uncertainty at such at time is overwhelming, yet most of us are. How do we navigate this upheaval?

Over the last decade, my personal landscape has often seemed as uncertain on the small scale as things look right now on the larger scale, and the only thing that has kept me going, in moments of fear and blindness, is love. Not romantic love, or enormous saintly outpourings of lovingkindness. Just step-by-step, trying to remember and honor what it is that I love. Noticing a color that I love, or a snippet of music that I love, or animals playing in the grass, or someone being kind to someone else at the store. Giving generously when I feel led to, or backing into silence and meditation when I feel led to. There are only two main emotions, love and fear, so it's important not to open the door to the maelstrom of fear. Because it is a maelstrom, and it sucks me in in a heartbeat. For someone who used to work in the news industry, I pay as little attention to the news as I can, because it stokes such an immediate fear reaction, whether it means to or not.

And I try to remember what I believe with all my heart: there is no such thing as death. All of us are everlasting beings. Whether we choose in any given lifetime to be on planet earth for three days or 103 years, our higher selves make the conscious choice when to return to the spirit realm. Does this mean to ignore catastrophes, or not to try to help people in emergency situations? No. But as a culture we are so very fearful of death, when it really doesn't exist. Fearlessness in the face of chaos is easier when you know nothing can ultimately harm you. And when you respect the other person as another eternal being, you have no wish to harm them either.

Kind of preachy today. Ugh. But I'll let it be.

The Blank Canvas

There are certain life lessons you might think I would have learned by now, having had so many transitions, and being a visual artist and writer. But this one seems to have taken a lifetime.

I spent much of the weekend in discernment mode, basically exploring three or four big-picture possibilities for September and beyond. I used all the tools in my toolbox: writing, art, oracle cards, free-association, you name it. I tried hard to sense what option, if any, inspired me, or helped me articulate a life-affirming post-65 life path, and the best way of helping a struggling world. But after hours of work, I realized that these options were all deadening on some level or another. Uninspiring. It was terribly depressing.

This morning, something hit me. And that is, my so-called possibilities for the future were really based almost entirely on my past, the places and situations that I have lived in up until now. Perhaps because I'm so exhausted, perhaps because the news is so heartbreaking, perhaps because I seek comfort and stability, my imagination only seemed to be able to scan past and present realities and try to re-tool them. Indeed, some of my choices over the years were re-do's of previous phases. Is this just me, or is it human nature? After all, the media is full of references to "getting back to normal" -- going back to the familiar. We are all traumatized, needing the comfort of the known. Many of us will do anything to avoid starting completely from scratch.

I also realized that other earlier life decisions were made well before I consciously devoted myself to representing the Goddess. I was trying either to break into some male construct or other, or simply to survive those constructs. Now, in the light of what feels like a more life-affirming spiritual "place", these other physical places and situations don't have quite the same zing anymore. To use the metaphor of the painter, I absolutely need to start a new painting.

The reason that feels so scary is that in the past, when I have faced the blank canvas (say, in 1990 when I first arrived in Duluth), I assumed I had to be a blank painter. I tried to throw away most of my east coast qualifications and expectations (because they didn't seem to be helping me). I had already deep-sixed my musical passion and interest in England. I wanted to try to become what I thought was a more normal person, finding a good job, a stable home, maybe even a relationship or marriage. As all of you know, none of that has ever happened. Metaphorically, I had thrown away my legs and arms and perhaps parts of my soul. For quite some time, I completely lost who I was. I am only now realizing how devastating that was.

So this time at least, while I may be facing a blank canvas, I am not an empty shell of a painter. This artist brings with her decades of unique experiences, all of her considerable education and art/music training, all of her power, all of her foibles and neuroses, all of her passions, unreservedly and unapologetically. And I'll do over the next week or two what I would always do creating an oil painting: fill in the stark white canvas with an earth tone, and then, once that is dry, block in some basic areas of color. The details will have to wait until the blank canvas is no longer completely blank. 

Saturday Evensong

I wasn't originally going to post anything today, but I did want to mention that Lyra Davidica, the UK-based choir I sang with four years ago at Canterbury Cathedral, is in residence there this week. I would have "given anything" to sing with them again, but because it seemed doubtful in the extreme whether I could get there, I didn't want to make the commitment. Indeed, I don't think it was a sure thing for them until the last minute, because of all the COVID situation vagaries. 

Those of you who know me or my blog know that I am not one of the most enthusiastic proponents of computers or modern technology. (Anyone who can go for 15 months without getting on a computer is a dinosaur of the first order!)  But I have to say that watching Evensong live -- and even in this virtual way, being able to sing along with my peeps -- is nothing less than a miracle. It doesn't beat being there in person, and in fact it may make that ache even rawer. But all I have to do is go back as far as the 1990's to remember a time when such live virtual travel would have been inconceivable. Today, the choir sang one of my favorite services after anything Howells -- the Murrill in E. Or should I say, "We sang..." Perhaps in some way that even I cannot fathom, my voice was heard again at Canterbury.

Whatever your song is, sing it today. Boy, does the world ever need it.

I Finally Cried

This morning, I finally cried. I barely cried at all during the height of COVID (which we may or may not be at the other side of), or earlier this spring when I learned it was time to leave my previous living situation, or earlier this month, when I learned it was time to leave my current one. I don't think it is just my WASP stiff upper lip that keeps me going at this point, though. I've come to some intellectual peace with the fact that quite literally, there may not be an external home appropriate for someone with my mix of passions. I am so lucky to have come "home" to a measure of inner peace within myself. 

But "intellectual peace" and "heart peace" are two different things, aren't they? Deep within, I'm just a little girl carrying a stuffed animal who wants to be welcomed unconditionally with open arms. As in, "A brilliant, brave, English cathedral music-loving follower of the Goddess is just what I need in my life for the next 30 years. You don't need to change a thing! Let's grow old together." Whether it's from a person, place, or institution/situation, that is what my heart needs to hear. A variation on that is what every human heart needs to hear, isn't it? I've never experienced it yet, and in this Transition, with all its limitations, I can barely imagine it. But the mere fact that I was able to type out those three sentences was hopeful!

By Monday, I may have no choice (given my very low income and very low level of energy) but to pursue an option that is, let's face it, the opposite of what paragraph two represents. But my journey has always brought with it surprises and a measure of magic. I trust that I will be guided to where I need to be. And in the midst of the tears, I am thankful. What a lifetime this has been.

Wednesday

This is a Wednesday that I surely will look back on, as a doorway, a portal. Dates that are elevens and twenty-twos always seem that way to me anyway (today is August 11) but I had a major realization in the middle of the night. I won't go into the details yet because I'm still making sense of it.

But in a more general way, it all has to do with fully accepting myself. And oddly, it's never been about coming to terms with having done something wildly negative (physically hurting someone, killing someone, cheating, stealing, or so forth). The parts of me that I have not wanted to "own" have been my strengths and positive attributes, what our culture now calls "my superpowers" (I love the term). I have collaborated in my own silencing and my own being made invisible, on an almost epic level. I have reached a new level of understanding on that score, and am really stunned. Perhaps it's a good thing (to use yesterday's card reading and metaphor) that someone else is steering the boat right now, and that I am in the position to simply be a passenger. I'm fairly sure my arm would be shaking at the tiller, and that the boat would be going all over the water.

The gift of this particular Wednesday is true acceptance, the realization that I cannot possibly move backwards and do anything differently. I can only walk through the portal of August 11, 2021 and, with new insight, experience where the path leads me now. I am a different person than I was even a week ago.

In the River

Like a tide ebbing and flowing, I guess this blog is going to go back and forth between the personal and the universal. Maybe they are essentially the same thing? Especially for someone trying to graduate out of duality!

The other day, I made a reference to becoming one with the river of life, but this morning's cards brought me back into the boat, so to speak.

The Six of Swords is one of the most powerful images in the Rider pack, I think. It is the one with the river man poling a flat-bottomed ferry down the stream. In front of him sits what appears to be a shawl-covered woman and child, and at the bow of the boat, seeming to cut off the passengers' view, are six enormous vertical swords, point down, like a cage. It's a card that suggests the quiet sound of lapping waters but the figures themselves are silently lost in their own thoughts. The traditional reading of the card is journeying, transition, or moving on after a loss; it fits my mood today because yes, after having rejoiced that mystic me had finally found the kind potential longer-term home she's long sought, it turns out that it isn't to be after all. For a few days, I have been in mourning mode; Rachel Pollack's Seventy Eight Degrees of Wisdom phrases it so beautifully as a "long sorrow". It's hard to remember any time in this lifetime when staying in a place that felt like home has been an option. Once again, my vision is obscured, but I am relieved that someone else is propelling the boat. And there are several beautiful harbors on shore. Today, anyway, I must leave it to the ferry man to decide when to head to dry land. 

Then, from the Wild Wood pack, Queen of Stones, "Bear". This is a powerful image of a huge cave bear, waking up from hibernation and standing at the cave opening, looking out over a huge valley. The sun is coming up over a beautiful, snaking blue river. For this card, I'm relying on my own interpretation. She is the Goddess, Mother Earth, coming out of her deep sleep and surveying the current world situation. She looks ferocious but loving. There is work to be done. She sees the river from above.

I need this time of mourning, of quiet, thoughtful transition to a new stretch of the river. My human soul and body could never have stood so much change without honoring the need for retreat, for leaving the active poling of the boat to others. 

Bear represents the bigger picture. Working as a representative of the divine feminine has been so different than working for "the man"; it helps to remind me that I chose, arguably, a harder path that was almost guaranteed to have fewer lasting physical comforts. At any point in time, I have been where the Goddess needed me to be, doing Her work. It simply must be that by early September, based on her reading of the bigger picture, I need to be elsewhere. 

Note to self: keep breathing.

How?

So how do we do it? If the Goddess is saying something to the world like, "I'll never ask you to fight", where do we start? How do we live a completely conflict-free life?

In the middle of the night, it hit me that one of the tragedies of the duality paradigm is the fact that we are trained to fight in almost every major human situation. Fighting against "enemies" or "evil" comes as no surprise, but the more subtle message all of us have internalized is that we need to fight for the things we love, often to protect them from harm. Parents understandably stand ready to fight for their children or grandchildren. People who love their country may choose to fight to protect it from an enemy. If a neighbor is oppressed or mistreated, we may wish to stand up with them to fight for their rights. We may fight to keep a job that helps us afford the house we love, or fight the cancer that the doctor has diagnosed, or fight to protect a local natural habitat. Suddenly it becomes confusing. Am I fighting for or against? Is fighting my only option? Will the fighting never end?

This is a transitional time. Superficially, there are enemies aplenty out there, maybe more than ever. I'm not saying that things are fine and dandy -- clearly, they are not. But it's about really using x-ray eyes to get beneath the surface of things and consider the possibility that, at its core, creation is one single, powerful stream of manifested love. Would a loving creator (whatever form that energy took) mold a second, destructive entity? I just have never been able to see the logic in that. Contrast, sure, but a polar opposite energy field forcing human beings into nonstop conflict? I just don't see it. 

It takes a leap in belief, at first simply trying to imagine "What if?" What if this earth were love-immersed and there was no room for so-called "evil" or the fight against it? Maybe for one day, a person could step away from the fighting. When that letter comes in the mail soliciting a donation on behalf of an "anti"-something organization, simply put it aside for 24 hours. When your child comes in crying because another child was cruel, envelop them in your arms and say, "I love you." Don't promise -- at least for today -- to fight back. If you read about a political group or organization opposed to your values and you start to feel yourself frothing at the mouth, set those feelings aside for a day. Just one day. If friends invite you to the latest movie thriller, say "no thanks" and stay home and read or watch something else. Or knit, or cook dinner from scratch, or walk in the nearby park, or observe the birds at the feeder.

This day might feel really strange. We are so used to constant struggle that it might feel pointless, or silly, or frustrating or inactive. It might feel anti-social or boring. And yet on such a day, a person's energy has not been drawn downward into conflict, it has been drawn upward into intentional personal and planetary healing. Even if a tiny percentage of the human population were to try this experiment tomorrow, only for one day, I think we might see or sense immediate changes for the good.

She said

Today, I'm just going to quote from my channelled journal of a little over a year ago, July 11, 2020. Next time I will go further with this theme:

A construct that asks you to fight anything is, by its very nature, NOT OF ME. I will never ask you to fight for or against anything.  

The First Thing

It looks like my life is going to go topsy-turvy again over the next month or so, but that stalwart presence within me that I identify with the Goddess is basically saying, "Keep Calm and Carry on Blogging". There is stuff that needs to be said now, while I am still in the kind of setting that is so conducive to meditative expression. And at a moment when perhaps a few people, in the dog days of August, might listen. At times, I may repeat some material from earlier blogs, but I just need to let that be, with apologies to regular readers. The spiral ever moving upwards, things may be phrased differently or in a different context than before.

So I've been trying to figure out, what is the most important thing to say first? And I guess it is this.

I believe we are entering the time in history when duality (the model we have all grown up with of good vs. evil, right vs. wrong, and all the major opposing qualities) is transforming into a unified field. It probably was essentially unified all along, but because the early human experience involved so much struggle for survival, we got into the fearful habit of believing in the power of the "other". The sun vs. the moon, man vs. nature, this tribe vs. that tribe, etc. These divisions became codified, and unfortunately they underlie virtually all our institutions and assumptions. They are the cause of all our conflicts.

Our relationship with our earth home is a case in point. "She" was the "other", and could be used and abused with impunity, because we really weren't connected with her. We could dig into her, throw trash into her, foul her air and water, create unnatural products and substances -- thoughtlessly. And somehow, it would all be OK in the end, because we would invent something equally unnatural to fix the problem. If the last few years have shown us nothing else, it is that this paradigm has led to near disaster. Mother Nature is struggling to do the most important job she needs to do, which is to maintain the viability of life on earth. Our role in this crisis moment? To emerge from the hell of duality and quickly make the philosophical (and practical) leap into a consciousness of unity. We are all connected. We are all one with each other and the planet and every creation in the universe. There are no "battle lines" or sides that must be taken or wars for or against anything.

So, you might think, Liz, this seems like a strange time to embrace the Goddess. "Feminine vs. masculine" is just one more duality, right? Yes, it is. When we arrive at a more unified human construct, gendered concepts of the divine will have become outmoded...or we will at least embrace both facets of divinity. "Versus" will be replaced by "and". But we are not there yet. The masculine face of God has been in the ascendent for thousands of years, and as a woman, I have felt left out not only of spiritual institutions but of virtually every human endeavor. Forget about whether I have a roof over my head at any given moment...it has literally never seemed like "my world" or "my home" in any sense. So for my own healing, to understand and honor my own preferences, and to understand the crisis facing the earth -- so long seen as feminine -- I (perhaps temporarily!) choose to see the unified stream of life, love, beauty and power as feminine. And I can no longer just gaze at its beauty from the shore, or glide down the river of life in a boat looking for a harbor, I must dive into the stream and becoming one of its life-love-beauty-power water molecules. Embodying the qualities of the divine stream, each in our own unique way, is our primary job in this scary moment.

 

Influences

One more post with a little background. There are so many ways in which my life almost guaranteed that I would ultimately have an affinity to a Goddess construct of the divine. After about a month of drought, it just seems easier this morning to forego a proper narrative, and simply make a list...

Yes, my early wish to sing with the men and boys' choir, and heartbreak at the impossibility of that...perhaps taking issue with God from that point on (!)...questioning why God didn't have a daughter too...having one grandmother who taught me to create art and crafts, and another who had been a pioneering early woman lawyer...attending six years of all girls' college preparatory schools...four years at Smith College...an excellent education in critical thinking...why...why...why...

My University of London master's degree work focused on a saint who was killed by her Roman fiancé when she converted to Christianity...she went to heaven in a ball of flame...the process of recreating myself once I returned to America, and my studio art studies, where I was the creator...if I couldn't sing the music I loved, no one could stop me from creating art...being drawn to the metaphysical writings of Florence Scovel Shinn and, later, Esther Hicks ("Abraham-Hicks")...

At Pendle Hill, the Quaker study center, my Episcopal/Church of England roots were turned upside down...in the silence, once I stopped hearing hymns and organ preludes, I heard my own inner voice and started increasingly to trust it...following those inner leadings to Duluth, Minnesota, and living merely feet from the lake that felt like a living Goddess...immersing myself in that power...

I explored graduate programs in women's spirituality, but the only real possibilities I found at the time were in California, and my inner bungee cord still tying me to England just didn't stretch that far...I returned east to accompany my mom on the last eighteen months or so of her life...a moment I will never forget was when I told some missionaries at the front door that I was a post-Christian feminist, so I was sorry that I was unlikely to convert to their religion. When I told Mom what I had said, she said, "I think if I was going to be around a little longer, I'd be a post-Christian feminist too"...

Most recently, the decade of allowing English church music back into my life, trying to re-connect with that world and make sense of the paradox of a non-believing passion for the music. If you have time, go back to my blog post of November 6, 2017 ("Finally"), where I finally articulated what this is all about...a tumultuous decade, a rich/poor decade, a homeless decade, a decade where I finally accepted that the core of me is uniquely unsuited for the world as it is at this time, and that the closer I get to aligning with the divine feminine, the further I get from traditional security of any kind...utterly terrifying, day in and day out... 

So whether some of the things I write about in upcoming months come from some deep Goddess source or from just the constantly-uncertain constantly-questioning path of Liz in this lifetime, I'll leave you to assess. I'll just keep doing my best to express the ineffable. That, of course, is what we are not supposed to do, but I always do everything "wrong"!

My Path to the Goddess III

I write as a tentative orange-pinkish sun is breaking through clouds and smoky haze. We sure are living in "interesting times".

The COVID year-plus solidified my path to the Goddess, and the only challenge is to try to explain how. On the surface, my experience of March '20-May '21 was easier than that of so many people, for which I will always be grateful. I was with friends, and we largely self-quarantined due to their health issues. Outside forces dictated a way of life which, I soon learned, was actually right for me. I didn't miss shopping, or dining out, or movies, or work or volunteer activities. I walked the dog multiple times a day, read, knitted little blankets for friends, read some more, and -- every other night -- made dinner. Not having a working computer and the library being closed, I hand-wrote my journal and letters, but that was it. I was glad to be with other people, but I didn't seem to need social events or a lot of TV or extraneous external "noise". 

For about an hour each evening, the exception to this was nightly local and national news on TV. The news seemed to get worse by the day, but what was most disheartening to me (having effectively moved to a spiritual "place" beyond conflict) was the war-related lingo. Everything was "the fight against COVID" and "heroes on the front lines" and "beating the disease"...well, you know. You heard and lived it too. I just couldn't see the growing pandemic in these terms, but the "battle lines had been drawn" and little old me with no computer or smart phone basically had only two choices -- watch the news, or not.

One day in late June last year, I think right after having watched the latest broadcast, I went back to my room and suddenly felt I had to write something. I grabbed a sheet of lined paper and a pen, and what came out was the first of several dozen "channelled" what? Messages? Letters? The experience reminded me of back when I was at Pendle Hill. It had been explained to me that if someone speaks out of the silence in a meeting for worship, the best case scenario is when they are doing it spontaneously, when they have literally felt Spirit "quaking" within them (thus the term Quakers!) and they just must stand up and speak. I actually had that experience a few times in that spring of 1990, and you could always tell when someone at the worship service was speaking from this deep place and not from their ego. Well, grabbing my pen and starting to write a year ago was very similar. What came out of my pen wasn't as smooth or polished as my normal writing, and it was energetically attention-getting and insistent. I mean, much of it was actually similar to things I had already been thinking, in some cases for years, but the pandemic was lending urgency to the messages and they came to me in the third person. It felt as if the Goddess was dictating to me. Needless to say, I can never prove that, and in true Liz style, the whole thing was all too easy to try to sweep under the carpet.

However, as the summer progressed, and more of this material was coming through me, I started to consider getting back online somehow. I wasn't in a position to buy a new computer yet (that would come after the stimulus checks!) and I wasn't even sure but that I wouldn't rather write a short book or e-book. I hemmed and hawed. Considering how our activities were limited, the days flew by; the build-up to the election, the truncated, cheerless holidays, the events in Washington in January, and, of course, the arrival of the vaccine and the process of making appointments for them all took their toll. I knew I had (and was receiving) an alternative vision of all these events that should be seen and heard, but like most people, I was also exhausted and traumatized. On my 65th birthday, I felt a little like I was turning 85.

In early May, as things were starting to open up again, I realized that I needed to make some decisions about housing/staying in Duluth/life moving forward in a changed world. I spent several nights at one of the hotels that looks straight out at the lake, and as the dawn broke at about 5:45 on May 7th, I faced that familiar horizon and basically just told myself (and all the spiritual powers-that-be) that from this point forward, I am working for the Goddess. My "employer" is the feminine face of the divine, however She needs to use me. I was in tears, tired, feeling both relieved that I could never again squash the source of my spiritual energy, but terrified and still feeling vulnerable and uncertain. Within several weeks, I had bought a computer and returned to this blog, but I realize I haven't effectively used it yet to express some of the material waiting just under the surface. With no stable home and chronic "homesickness" for England, just getting from Day A to Day B is such a challenge, never mind breaking new spiritual ground in public. (Or at least my version of new spiritual ground.) Yikes. 

But it's time. I'm doing the best I can, dear readers, and in the next few posts I'll communicate some of the material that has been coming to me.