Scio

Scio. Latin for, "I know" (and the same word from which we get "science", "omniscience", etc.) What I know, and how I know things, seems to be changing quite quickly, or at least my perception of the process. It may be that I was knowing things differently all along, but didn't "know" it! (How's that for circular reasoning!)

A week or two ago, I came in on the conclusion of a public television broadcast about how global climate change is affecting a certain ecosystem. The main scientist studying the situation was obviously extremely concerned, and he was certainly an expert, bringing to the problem as much knowledge and skill as is probably humanly possible. Yet even having caught only part of the program, I was still left with this niggling feeling, much as I am when I hear about scientific, political, and industrial efforts to address or "fight" our growing climate challenge. It's like, this man was not speaking my language (and I mean that in a broader sense than the obvious one of my not being a scientist). 

It took a few days to untangle the threads of this. So, here goes.

I think it's important to remember that our scientific construct came out of our larger "patriarchal" one: until very recently, most scientists were male, had been trained within all-male systems, and they brought to the discipline a duality/"conflict" (this vs. that) set of assumptions. One of the hallmarks of this construct is separation, staying in observer mode. Even in some of the fields where I have spent time (academia, the arts, journalism), keeping a distance is crucial. We learn about things by looking at "them", studying "them", trying to figure "them" out. Then we write about "them", make a painting of "them", or try to fix "them". I guess that's what I heard in this program, the language of hope that science would help humans fix what is happening out there.

That's what hit me. I don't think the human concept of "science" reflects the way Mother Nature creates, or experiences Her creation. She is creation. It unfolds naturally out of Her, love and passion swirling out through space and time. And we humans are not separate from Her or from the rest of creation. The current situation may not even really be, to Her, our human concept of "a problem", much less one that can be fixed by us. But to address it in any way -- even to start to understand it -- may require more of us to leave observer mode and be one with earth. When I see thousands of plastic containers at the grocery store, this odd thing is starting to happen. It's less now of "Oh, no, we shouldn't be making so much out of plastic", and more a sense of feeling what it would be like to be some of the dirt at the bottom of a landfill, crushed by tons of debris and far from the light, oxygen and rain I need in my life. I can almost feel what it would feel like to be molecules of water in a lake or ocean into which toxic chemicals are being spilled, or to be a bird who has unwittingly just ingested poisonous pesticides. I feel literal pain when I see holes being dug for new construction, or news footage of towering clouds of black smoke when train cars or warehouses catch fire. I'm starting to experience all this pain in real time.

This level of "oneness" with nature (and there are probably many, many thousands of people worldwide who are far more aligned than I am!) is extremely hard. No wonder we've been encouraged to remain numb, to enjoy our many advantages, conveniences, and shortcuts. And our scientists have created wonders. I participate with thankfulness in those wonders almost every hour of the day, phoning or texting friends, cooking food, taking the bus, watching TV, and even as the most modest user of other modern technology.

But I know what I know about coming events and trends, from within, from inner alignment with Nature, from literally feeling the earth's increasing pain. I am no longer primarily an observer. And that's a huge turning point. My "scio" moment, perhaps.

Things Speaking for Themselves

I let a milestone slip by unnoticed. My last post ("Mother, May I?") was my 750th. Wow. "Who would have thunk?"

Those of you who have read regularly over these last eight years know that my favorite Latin expression is "res ipse loquitur", or "the thing speaks for itself". And I think just about everything happening on the world stage right now "speaks for itself". If you scratch under the surface of things that seem to be economic events, or political events, or military events, or societal events, or public health events, they really are, at their hearts, spiritual events. What do people believe? What is their world view? Do they accept a duality/conflict-based view of events? If so, why?

Being really far out of the mainstream in my sixties, is, in a way, a blessing. I wasn't a "fighter" earlier in life, although I guess you could say I've "fought" to survive. Now I am tired. Conflict is completely out of the question. The energetic nature of our modern construct is too solid for me to significantly change, fight or fix; all I feel capable of in this final third of my life is to glow with the light of the divine feminine, and hope that occasional people here and there see that light. On this Memorial Day weekend (one that seems likely to be unusually warm and dry here in Northern Minnesota), I will focus on a few indoor and outdoor spring cleaning chores, perhaps I'll get a few walks in or see friends, and I'll cook and eat as healthily as I can. I'll focus on the actions that come closest to passing the "Mother, May I?" test. Where I live, even the lawn mower is hand powered...so it shouldn't be too hard. And with all the travel other people are doing, even the act of staying put seems noteworthy, almost radical; rooted, and aligned with Mother Earth.

The key is to stay reasonably calm in the midst of the frenzied swirl of news. May you, too, find a bit of inner calm. If we, too, "speak for ourselves", our evident inner and outer peace may inspire those around us. 

Mother, May I?

As I write, late in the month of May, there are stiff northeast winds wailing down Lake Superior, and brisk 40 degree temperatures, with wind chills probably around or below 30. It's hard to know if this is Duluth being Duluth, or Duluth being worse than normal because of climate change. We are actually shockingly dry, given that we had the most winter snow on record, and evidently Memorial Day weekend will be unusually rain-free for this part of the world. And we continue to experience quite smoky skies from Canadian fires. We are all connected.

I am still feeling a bit fragile, given all the revelations that are coming to me and the fact that in my last post, I am pretty sure some of the material was genuinely channelled and I had the courage to keep it in print. The thing that has changed in recent months is that I have put "being centered in the Goddess" at the top of my world, and all other things (even England and church music) under that larger umbrella. No more eeny-meeny-miney-mo. No more tennis match, with two sides of me volleying for victory. From now on, I'll do my best to align with the Goddess, and where I go and what I do will flow from that. When I am making decisions, I'll ask, "Mother, may I?", and move forward when the answer clearly seems to be yes.

The tricky thing about writing about what is happening in me and in the world will be staying away from a focus on what is "wrong". I'm human. I'm responding every day to what is amiss, feeling pain, heartbreak, helplessness. Falling into that black hole and giving in to the temptation to lecture ("We must do this", "We must fight that", "We must vote for this", "We must save this"...) will never be constructive. (On the occasions when I have done so in this blog, I've never felt completely happy about it!) What is in the process of happening is a complete (to use computer terminology) rebooting of life on earth, and the old paradigm won't really matter enough to focus on or critique any more. The questions for now are, "Is this love?", "Is this beauty", "Is this sustainable for all life?" and "Mother (Earth), May I?" The path forward will light up when you feel/hear/sense the answer is, "Yes".

The Iceberg

So I plow ahead, following through with my vow (expressed regularly, but with more conviction in my last post!) to start revealing more and more of what my soul is saying, and perhaps has been saying all along. To explore how or if these revelations relate to a "Goddess" perspective on life.

An iceberg is an imperfect metaphor, implying, as it does, rigidity and danger. But that notion of, what small tip is showing above the surface, and what enormous mass is below, can still be compelling. In the case of individual humans, what qualities are clearly visible to onlookers, and what qualities lie beneath the surface, or perhaps go unused. 

What picture have I presented to the world? What has been the visible tip of my iceberg? (I guess I can say all this without flinching, even if it might be hard to hear it from another person!) Serious. Overly intelligent and thoughtful. Arguably too sensitive, musical/artistic and spiritual. Hapless (unlucky and perhaps a little pathetic). Unable to stay put. Unable or unwilling to do hard work or work that I don't like. Unable to accept the world as it is. "Poor" and living on a shoestring. In the world's terms, unsuccessful. Little follow-through. Powerless. An excellent writer, but satisfied with having only a small handful of readers. No ability to self-promote. Holding a lot back. Courageous, but in a way that still has not really helped myself or the world. And through it all, trying to put a "nice" face to the world. Terrified of not being liked or accepted. Holding back on the momentum of thoughts which might cause pushback in others.

Phew. Well, there it is. The scared "little girl from Schenectady" as an adult in Duluth. The way that even I have continued to see myself, even after 67 years of life, seven of them writing this blog. And the worst of it is, I believe that overall, the construct-that-is is always pleased when such a woman reaches old age and kind of fades away into the sunset. 

So, what is beneath the surface of the water? It really isn't a different person. It is "me" seen as a valid face of the divine feminine, and revealing myself and my thoughts fearlessly. The Goddess might say, "you are as I made you. Your intelligence and creativity make you capable of kinds of thinking that the world needs. Your seriousness has allowed you to move forward largely untainted by addiction, despair, or self-pity. You knew you had a calling, and you have done your best to adhere to it. You've recoiled from 'work' that is inappropriate to your talents or my values, yes, but in the current construct, it would have been nearly impossible to be more 'successful' with integrity. Your heart is far bigger than you think it is...which is part of why operating in earth's so-called reality has been so painful. You've tried to find people or situations that matched your emerging energy, thus the frequent moves. Your energy ('power') is not a match to the construct in place, but it is to the construct now emerging. Moving forward, you won't worry so much about being 'nice' -- one of the heavy loads carried by too many women. Your efforts will go to being lovingly powerful. Your efforts will flow more freely and have more impact. Your inner and outer beauty will be visible."

Whoa. I didn't expect to say that! I guess that is what you call channeling. Yikes, terrified and humbled.

And an image came to me as I wrote, an image of an "iceberg" with a warm, brilliant glow at its center, both above and below the water. What if the captain of the Titanic had seen the light of the iceberg from a distance, and had been able to avoid hitting it? I guess it's about, icebergs are a great metaphor, but in the new paradigm they will need heart. As many of us start revealing the full truth of our beings, we will thaw. We will become less rigid. And more and more people -- seeing the totality of who we are -- will be able to interpret "us" more lovingly and thankfully.

Well, this wasn't what I thought would come of today's writing, but I offer it up anyway. I will not follow my old model, and hit delete. Thank you, Goddess.

Holding Back No More

This week has been a "vacation" for me. A vacation from what, it would be fair to ask, since I no longer even attempt to have jobs in the world. (This blog is what I consider my job!) Well, it's more a case of having a full week to myself, and having decided to do things rather differently. I've eaten at different times of day, or sometimes, not at all. I've had an unusual number of get-togethers with friends. And I've done some "binge-watching", watching several episodes in a row of TV shows that appeal.

This included, of all things, "Project Runway". As I said last time, my wardrobe is atrocious. As I got "poorer and poorer", the notion of spending any money on items other than decent walking shoes became out of the question. I had watched several seasons of this show when it originally aired; it is set at Parsons School of Design (where I studied illustration, not fashion, in the 1980's), and it has wonderful video clips of New York City. Why was this show attracting me now? It's irritatingly competitive (conflict shows up everywhere!), and I have yet to see many appealing contestants. It's not likely that when I pack my proverbial rolling bag (see last post), I'll head to the Big Apple.

But I think I have discovered why this show re-entered my life at this time. One episode featured a designer who created a fabric inspired from his life. At first, he wouldn't reveal what the backstory was. Yet finally he did, under questioning from the judges, a secret he had kept from the world for over ten years. Once he blurted it out, he felt lighter, more powerful, and more creative, and he went on to almost win the season's top prize.

Watching this sent shivers down my spine. Clearly, it resonated, but why? What am I holding back? It's not my sexuality; I would give anything to meet a man on my wavelength in this lifetime, to be in that kind of partnership. I'm not transgender. I am not hiding any serious addictions. To my knowledge, I have no major physical or mental health issues, and I have no questionable hobbies. I have already openly spoken here of the hardest aspect of my family background...and I hope I will continue to have the courage to do so.

What finally came to me is that I still haven't completely understood (or revealed) how fully "Goddess-centered" I am, and how that has informed my entire life. And I haven't fully embraced the power of aligning with Her. The little girl who wanted to sing with the men and boys was the divine feminine wanting expression. The "no, no, no" I've heard within me my entire life when confronted with institutions, types of jobs, news events, economic realities, societal expectations -- this was the Goddess trying to get my attention, trying to say, there are other ways of doing everything, everything, ways that are loving, creative, sustainable, more suitable to me as a woman and more suitable to caring for the earth. But up until now, fear has kept me from speaking too openly of what I know in my heart. I've seen what has happened historically to powerful women, and I see (and have experienced) the pushback that happens to "us" in this era. I have been afraid of my own power, which, of course, isn't "power over" but power with the only creative power that exists. 

Almost eight years after starting this blog, I still "have" nothing, thus, more than ever, I have nothing to lose. It is a miracle that I am still alive, really. I'm in the eye of the needle, and there is no going back to the person I was even a year ago. It can only be that my life and blog up to this point were "introductory". They set the stage for more powerfully expressing my best take on what the Goddess would be saying now. They set the stage for more powerfully embodying how She would be in these times. I've been gathering strength, wisdom -- and, most of all, courage. As long as I write and "be" in a place of only love, may I hold back no more.

 

"My soul, there is a country"

There is a wonderful anthem by C. Hubert H. Parry called, "My Soul, there is a country." OK, for me it may not measure up to "I was glad" and a handful of other glorious Victorian and Edwardian anthems -- and its full lyrics aren't (ahem!) quite aligned with where I am at, beliefs-wise. But all week, these title words have been with me. Kind of, "Don't worry about how homeless and rootless you have always been and felt. Your soul has an inner home, and you are there."

I guess I should have understood sooner that, particularly as a mystic, the physical locus of "home" would always be secondary to inner rootedness. When my astrologer told me (at least fifteen years ago) that I was a 12th-house Aquarian mystic, it rang absolutely true, but I had no idea what to do about it. It's not like there is a guidebook out there, a "Becoming a Mystic for Dummies" kind of thing. And because I wasn't  ever really a Christian in this lifetime, reading works by the mystics of the faith didn't appeal. My journey has been my guidebook: a rocky, at times terrifying, disengagement from "the way the world is", leading to increased focus on "the way I am" -- and, I hope, the way of the Goddess. This way of being may be shared by hundreds or many thousands of women around the world (and hopefully a few men!) but in our lifetimes, there may never be a literal "country" for us, or even a city. If we are unified, it is only by fragile threads both visible and invisible. We are brought closer together as we individually begin to operate from our passions for complete "nonviolence", Love, Beauty, Truth, and the essential oneness of all life -- and if we should meet serendipitously, so much the better! In other words, I believe I do have a tribe, even if I don't know them. 

This is kind of silly and metaphorical, but I have decided to pretend that I am "packing" to move to this inner country. Over the next few weeks, I am going to buy a few decent items of clothing. (When you live in a city with 6 months of winter, you are always covered by a big parka, and the notion of being stylish falls completely by the wayside. My current wardrobe is a threadbare disaster. I'm not in a position to buy more than a few things, but I want to collect items I know I'll look good in.) Ditto, some nightwear, a toilet kit, and possibly a new, better working roller bag. I already know which four books I must take with me: Sharon Blackie's If Women Rose Rooted, Nor Hall's The Moon and The Virgin, The Great Shift (ed. Martine Vallee), and lastly the remarkable 1982 book by my fellow Smith College graduate, Elizabeth Dodson Gray, Patriarchy as a Conceptual Trap. By July 4 (Independence Day), I should be ready for whatever is coming next on this path, whether I stay "rooted" here in Duluth or move again, whether I move upwards or outwards, or both.

Lastly, an experience that still has me chuckling. Yesterday, my inner New Yorker was craving a bagel, so I bought a six-pack. When I got back, and was putting them in the freezer, I noticed the most bizarre thing! There is a bagel hanging on the apple tree outside the dining room window! Literally, hooked on a small branch. Well, turns out that squirrels in this neighborhood do this, bring food high to the treetops to save for later! I didn't completely believe it, but this morning, I watched, astounded, as a squirrel crossed the street with a big heel piece of bread in his mouth. He went to the base of a shrub, and climbed to the uppermost branch, and has wedged the bread there. Never, ever, in 67 years have I seen that, or known that it happens! It's amazing what you keep learning if you can somehow hang in there!

Crowns

I'll get to the coronation in a minute. First of all, I feel I need to apologize to my handful of regular readers, most of whom are, I think, also personal friends. And to old friends and new, some of whom have backed away at times. I know how hard it must be to be my friend, to hear me talk about homesickness for England and not know how to help. It may well feel like a black hole. I'm sensitive to black holes, having been born into such a hopeless, bottomless situation. My longing for "home" started on day one, and I guess I cannot write such a personal blog without this core life experience being omnipresent. Still, the fact that a few of you continue to walk with me on this "Liz path" means the world. I am honored by your love and patience.

It would have been a great mistake for me not to have watched the coronation. It may have been one of the biggest watersheds of my life. I can only touch on it briefly today. My mind is still reeling. Truly, there may be enough material in those four hours of television for a year's worth of blog posts! 

I had kind of steeled myself for the possibility that there would be no girls or women involved in the singing, since the Abbey's choir is still men and boys. However, it immediately became apparent that other choirs were represented. It was a thrill to see (and hear) the girls and see them in the choir stalls. I've often said, that is my "home", and I felt proud (about 55 years after I would have been the right age to do so myself!) to have lived long enough to witness this. I stood up and sang along with much of the music, the pieces that I knew anyway: Parry's "I Was Glad", the Byrd "Gloria", the plainsong "Veni Creator", Handel's "Zadok the Priest", the Walton "Te Deum", and both congregational hymns, all the verses of which I knew by heart. And of course, the fact that women clergy and public figures took part in other aspects of the service is a major step forward.

However (and you knew that a "however" was coming, right?!), this was the first time I really, really got it (on the heart level) -- no amount of female participation in such an event makes it "matriarchal" or Goddess-centered. The values of the divine feminine, as I am coming to understand them, are so 180-degree opposite our major present-day institutions, that there may never be a successful "retrofit". My feelings of homesickness could never have been completely cured by living in England, having better access to choral evensong services, or singing those services. My feelings of homesickness could never have been solved by changing those outside realities. They can only be solved (for me) by more fully embracing my own inner divinity, and that of all women. They can only be solved when I can "crown" the energy of the Goddess within myself. This will never give me power over anyone else, but it will bring me "home" in the only way that counts. 

That's all I can manage today.

Friday Feelings

Over the last 24 hours, I have made a bit of a turnaround. Although I suspect the whole experience of watching the coronation may be extremely bittersweet, at best, I think I will join much of the rest of the world and get up well before the crack of dawn tomorrow and turn on the television. If there's even a remote possibility that I'll get back to Britain for any period of time in the future, I feel I need to experience this historic transition the way most people in that country will do. I want to feel the feelings that come up, for the choral music, for Westminster Abbey's remarkable space, for the words of the service, for the institutions of monarchy and church, the attire, the whole thing. I want to try to sort out what elicits powerful positive feelings, and what elicits negative ones, and not throw out the whole experience willy-nilly because I fear the pain of homesickness. 

It will be a good Saturday for doing this, given that we are expecting cool, rainy wind-off-the-lake weather. The trees haven't yet broken out in green, but they are trying to get up a little momentum. I feel quite unsettled, on so many levels, but it does help to look out the window at the immense lake and its solid horizon line. From a distance, no matter how calm or distressed the water, that line between sky and lake stays the same.

Yes, next week I'll report in!  Your correspondent in Duluth...

"Blowing in the Wind"

I've put the "g" in "Blowing" even though I am alluding, of course, to the Bob Dylan song. I'm also alluding to the fact that it's official, not only that Duluth had its snowiest winter since records have been kept, but also that this April was the windiest. As I speak, we are in the third day of almost constant strong winds, with gusts up to 50 or 60 mph. I am glad Mother Nature is doing what she needs to do, but even I am starting to feel a little stir crazy. I always think of the pioneers in their sod cabins, with nothing to distract them or mitigate the sound. 

Are the answers to the issues facing our world blowing in this wind? I suspect so. In the end, there is only one answer to every question, and that is that, ultimately, Nature is in charge. If it's hard for me to completely relax into that reality, I can only imagine how hard it will be for those who have a lot more confidence in our manmade structures than I do. 

True to form, the step forward I reported in my last blog (because surely "feeling slightly at peace" has to be considered a step forward!) led inevitably to a few shaky days. I missed some of the friends who have drawn away from me, or who I have lost touch with. I missed the freedom to pursue the field I loved the most. I missed being at the receiving end of respect and substantial income, and the notion of having a real family or home, the notion of security...all those things that my journey at least superficially "took away from me". My intellect gets that perhaps I needed to survive outside of these realities in order to be of service right now, when more and more people are having security snatched from them. But my heart? It's broken, and has been all along. It is a pain that hits hard from time to time. Sunday, I had a rare "sick" day (even though I was physically fine). I stayed in my pjs, just emerged from my room long enough to make some soup at lunch and dinner, and slept, read, journaled, and did crosswords. I'm still a little shaky. Perhaps it is partly the wind.

Adding to all this, of course, is the fact that the coronation is coming up on Saturday. I'm not sure if I am going to watch. I seem to be a lot more enthused about royalty when a woman is at the top (!) I also realize that my perceptions of everything (including England) are teetering in these strong winds. How will it feel to watch from still-grey and chilly Duluth? I feel a million miles away, literally and figuratively, and so very different from the person I was when I was last there, over four years ago. The ties to the soil seem as strong as ever, but the ties to other aspects of the British construct are loosening in the wind.

Next door, work is being done on the building's facade, with loud machine noise all day for several days. However, I wonder if today they are taking a day off for safety reasons. If the sound of wind gets to me, the sound of loud motors is even worse. In the end, I choose the sound of Nature. I choose to blow in, and with, the wind, as much as possible.