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.
