The Blank Stare

What I am starting with may seem to be a non sequitur to the things I've been talking about, but it's not. Bear with me.

I've referred a few times to my Dad, and how I finally "got" (a few years before his death in 2018) that he was virtually incapable of human feeling. It is a lesson, of course, that keeps reverberating. As I get older, I find I am relating more and more to the energetic reality under the surface of everything. The energy dynamic in relating to him was -- me, saying something with feeling (worry, compassion, fear, love), and him, looking at me with a blank stare and then looking away. The last time I saw him, I wanted to talk with him about my brother who had passed away. I asked him, "What did you like about him?" And Dad just stared at me uncomprehendingly and changed the subject. Friends have tried to excuse this or explain it, thinking he might have had dementia or another condition. But I am convinced that this was not the case. I look back decades to my poor mom, trying to get Dad to explain some of the impossible situations he was getting the family into. She would be crying, yelling, pleading with him to just talk with her, and he wouldn't do it. She finally sank into a state of numbness that, on one level, never went away. I wish I had better understood the situation before she died...

Once in a blue moon, the blank stare would crack, and he would explode in rage. In my late twenties, after I had moved to New York City and was in therapy for the first time, I made the mistake of mentioning it on a visit home to my parents, completely in the context of wanting to understand my life better and bring more love into our family. Dad erupted. This was too much of a direct threat to him, I guess, and he essentially threw me out, telling me never to return. Trying to get from the shores of Lake Champlain to the next bus or train south was a challenge -- but for about three years I did, indeed, have little-to-no-contact with my parents. When my mom inherited a little money and they were able to move out of state and buy a small year-round house, I slowly tried to re-enter the family. But I still didn't understand until way too late that just about all the actual emotional effort was on my part.

To say that I have replicated this same energetic construct over and over again is an understatement (!) But I am also wondering if it has to do with much larger issues. What it has felt like to be a creative, artistic, feeling, woman facing, if you will, the impenetrable wall of our patriarchal system -- begging to use my best gifts and be supported for who I am, not for what I can do to further its goals -- is the same complete frustration, the same sense of "the lights are on but no one is home". And it may be fanciful to do this, but I envision Nature trying to get humanity's attention about the environment. She loves Earth with a passion, and wants us to understand the kind of danger it is in. Yet with some notable exceptions, we are staying deaf and blind to her pleading. We are giving Her the blank stare.

If I am particularly hard on Artificial Intelligence, I think this is at the root of it. I don't think it will ever be possible for such "intelligence" to have a heart. The humanity in most of us will always be met with a kind of blank stare. They can program in artificial heartiness, friendliness, and helpfulness, but genuine caring? I don't think so. Or perhaps even if they do, I may simply find that I am too hurt and traumatized to trust it. I keep talking about love, and I realize I am only in my first baby steps. But I guess I'd rather be in love kindergarten than in technological grad school. 

Energetic Mismatch

On this steamy summer day (just about our second or third this year!), despite heavy smoke from Canada and eerie yellow skies, I have been busy. I've taken a dog for a walk, mowed the lawn, repotted some plants, and washed the dirt and sweat off my hands. 

There is so much to talk about right now, and I am getting seriously behind. Yet it's summer, and my poor readers need a break and so, I suppose, do I. The world isn't giving us one, but I'll try to keep this short.

I am "this close" to having the presumption of saying I speak for the Goddess. But I cannot quite go there yet. So I will speak for that little facet of Her that I represent. Recently, watching TV ads has been a heck of a lot more enlightening than watching the shows themselves, and what I am seeing is a world that (thanks to the dreaded AI) I am feeling more and more alienated from. Speaking for myself, I am not impressed with cars that park or drive themselves. I don't go, "Wow, cool!" at the thought of grocery shelves restocking themselves, or the thought of making huge purchases (like cars and appliances) online without seeing the items I am buying. I don't think it's funny or neat when companies present themselves as a force more powerful than Mother Nature, or when children are being drawn ever-earlier into this artificial world. Most of this is about human ego; most of this is not about love.

Oh, folks, we are heading into an energetic mismatch of monumental proportions. The waves of love entering our world literally don't "register" much of what humans are creating, just as much of what we are creating doesn't "register" (or reflect) love. Love will be the one and only path through the years to come; in the midst of the heat, find something to love, genuinely love. Each person will have to do this for themselves, if they can. We cannot hand the job over to someone else. 

Deep

OK, so I almost went off in a different direction, but what I cannot get out of my mind is...

The loss of the submersible in the North Atlantic. 

I mean, my first reaction was anger at these five men. Is there no part of Earth that can be left in peace? Does having a quarter of a million dollars really qualify you to dig ever-deeper into the core of Her being? Was such an expedition anything more than an opportunity for bragging rights? And I felt some anger at the enormous expense by governments and private institutions trying to rescue them. Women go missing all the time, and it hardly shows up on the radar screen. Men and women are falling through the cracks, and quickly forgotten. It seemed like yet another clear illustration of what (and who) is valued and what (and who) is not.

I softened a bit upon learning more about the men, their genuine passion for exploration, and their various human gifts. My most heartfelt response came when I thought about the implosion itself, those few seconds when each of the men must have grasped that their journey in this lifetime was over. Perhaps in that moment, they understood that another twenty years of loving their families and friends would have been worth more than pushing this particular envelope for its own sake. But it is possible that each of these beings was playing the teaching role that they came to earth to play...what have we learned?

As we go forward, endeavors undertaken for the sake of profit, fear, violence, and ego will simply be less and less successful. The energy of such events simply doesn't match what the Universe consists of, which is only love, and more and more of it. Yes, it's "deep", but you don't -- and won't -- need to go to the bottom of the ocean to find it. 

Running

On Saturday, I did something rather unexpected. Duluth's marathons went off without a hitch, despite the lingering smoke and haze.  So I grabbed a folding chair and walked downhill to watch for a while. I've never gotten into watching marathons...seeing nearly emaciated runners just hasn't been of interest in the least. But this time, I went early enough to see many of the half-marathon runners go through, and it was really heartwarming. These were "real" people, of every possible background, shape and size. There were people of every race (and presumably, every creed). There were people walking. There were people running. There were people with prosthetic legs, and people walking with walkers. There were people with pride attire and in Hawaiian garb. There were people walking alone, and people in groups. There were people on their cell phones and people taking selfies. There was even a guy swearing up a storm into his phone! Some people waved back at me, and some ignored my waves and cheers. I mean, I overdo the metaphors sometimes, but this was truly a snapshot of the human condition. I think sometimes it has been hard for me to cheer other people on in their endeavors, having received so little encouragement myself most of my life. But I've finally come more to peace with myself, and am beginning to root for me, and so I genuinely wanted to be there for this motley assortment of runners. Once the elite runners, male and female, started to come through, I cheered for the first few, then headed uphill again.

Would I ever run a marathon? Probably not. It has less to do with some extra weight as it does with my feet. (Too much information alert!) I've inherited from my mom and her mother some serious bunions, which now involve toes crossing etc. Finding shoes, sandals, or winter boots that are wearable is a challenge and a half...at this late stage, I don't want medical intervention. It might make things better, or it might make things worse. Later in their lives, neither grandma or mom did much walking, and now I understand why. I don't have a car, so I need to continue to walk, and I just literally take it a day at a time. But perhaps next year I'll sign up for a kiddie event, just to say I ran a marathon!

Persistence

The last few months, I went through some frustrating dead ends trying to reach people. This seemed to trigger some bleak old emotions; even slight pushback or delay feels huge to me, at times almost soul-destroying. I still have quite a trigger about not being wanted, having no home, and having no community, and of course when you go down such a road emotionally, it can send you to some pretty dark, reactionary places. I've been working with a healer on some of this, and in two specific instances, I somehow managed to persist, and there was suddenly a really good outcome. It was almost as if the timing had been wrong but then was right just out of the blue (I sometimes forget to "let go, and let the Goddess"). Or perhaps the Mercury retrograde of April and May was playing some trickster games!

People have commented on several occasions in my life that I am "persistent" -- sometimes, as in that notorious moment in the U.S. Senate, it isn't said complimentarily. But I think as women, we sometimes have no choice when we are trying to accomplish something. There may be no network, or no colleagues in the usual sense. We may not own the right technology or we may operate differently than the paradigm in place. We may literally get regular pushback. Losing heart (interesting metaphor!) isn't always a good option, so you just keep going. It can mean being a bit of a pest sometimes, but I try like anything not to be actively irritating! 

Tomorrow, the smoky skies have cleared just enough for Duluth's annual marathon. I'm not a runner, and the hullabaloo will bring things to a halt. But it certainly takes incredible persistence to become a world class runner, and in the marathon of life, I'm out on the course with them! May this weekend bring all of us blessings and success, on our own terms.

Where is the Joy?

I am looking out at the world through a haze of dark orange smog. While it doesn't seem to be quite as bad as what the east coast of the US experienced last week, it is nearly obscuring a church that is only three blocks away, and is literally (and metaphorically) casting a pall over the landscape. We've gone from very cool and crisp, almost fall-like, on Sunday to hot and hazy (but not smoky) yesterday, to warm and socked in with smoke today. 

I am also looking out at a tree about eight feet from my window. It has a wonderful natural effect on the bark, a large "eye", almost like the eye of an owl. So I have taken to fancifully thinking of this winking owl as The Goddess. Now that I cannot see the lake for the trees, I "bow" to Her every morning, or thank Her. Interestingly, this tree is on its last legs. 'Nuff said.

Back in January, I wrote about joy, and I'm glad I could do a reasonably good job of it then, because joy has been hard to access in recent months. It is nearly impossible not to get caught up in the momentum of horrors, not to enmesh oneself in the hopelessness of an old paradigm's frenzied efforts to get a handle on all the conflict it has unleashed. Even the most cursory skimming of the news can leave one completely drained. Even the most thoughtful foray out into the world can further drain and demoralize. Where is the joy?

As ever, I have to remind myself, it can only be found within. Especially now (and in the foreseeable future). As earth's physical and spiritual energies are transformed (and those of humankind, being one with earth), it may be harder and harder for a time to find evidence of joy around us, and it is a high level spiritual challenge indeed to stay inherently joyful/joy-filled. But when I take my focus back and look at that eye of the Goddess (rather than at outward events), it centers me again. Another thing that makes me happy is the truth told by these events. Stepping back just one step from toxic smoke, or the derailment of vehicles carrying fuel, or the political free-for-all, or the senseless violence, one can see and hear the truth of who loves and who cannot, which situations are a product of love, and which are not. It's no accident: the 2020's were destined to give us an opportunity to see things more clearly, whether they are obscured by orange smoke or not.

Questions

On Sunday mornings, I have taken to walking down to Duluth's Rose Garden for "communion", I guess you could say. We are so behind most of the country in terms of signs of spring...there was a strong, cold northeast wind. The rose bush leaves are largely out, but no buds. Our lilacs are at their peak, and so are many flowering trees. But still, the view out to the lake was sort of wintery...I huddled with a zipped-up winter jacket on one of the big cement benches, trying to soak in its warmth, and watched as families took pictures, people (in odd clothing combinations!) walked dogs, children ran around in circles, and birds swooped around. There was a relaxed, rather joyful energy.

As much as I can immerse myself in the beauty of such an experience (and truly, the older I get, the more gratitude I feel for even a few moments like this!), there is still an ugly counterpoint running through my mind, which these days seems to manifest in questions. Why, when dominant religions say "Thou shalt not kill", do so many people want to do so? Why do countries go to war? Why do we believe we "own" the land? Why do we believe we are separate from other people? How can we see conflict-driven institutions as providing answers? Why did we race ahead with artificial intelligence before embracing women's intelligence? Why do we still think of nature last, rather than first? And then when I get back to the house and watch tennis on TV (which I still like to experience a few times each summer), I'm overwhelmed by the near-violence of its slamming balls, and of the ads for enormous SUV's, the summer movies and new smart phones. Our larger human construct, in most of its manifestations, just feels like a painful battlefield. There is so little of it that I can tolerate at this point.

When that starts to feel overwhelming, I just remind myself of what I believe, which is that this century will see the return of the divine feminine's love power. Anything that is not primarily about love will just fade away or stop working, and moments of heart-filled beauty will become the norm, not the rare, momentary exception. 

 

Pictures

The old adage of pictures being worth a thousand words may never have been more apt than yesterday's time lapse photography of the New York City skyline in the smoke. As the day went on, it was impossible even to see the skyline from Brooklyn, almost unheard of. 

Yes, individual fires can and will be "fought", to save lives and properties. That is, right now, as it should be. But recently, I've heard more and more advertising and other references to fighting Mother Nature; if my heart weren't already so broken over so many things, this would be the last straw. This is not the moment to fight Mother Nature. This is not the moment to fight the people who are fighting Mother Nature. This is not the moment to fight climate change. Overall, this is not the moment to fight anyone, anything, any situation, and yet if you stand back, it seems like virtually our entire world is at war in some manner or another. I am convinced that the literal and metaphorical heat of all this anger, rage, and pushback is contributing to climate change, even though I suppose that would be a hard premise to prove.

If we are forced indoors, or forced to limit outside activities, or forced to postpone travel (sounds familiar from the pandemic, right?), maybe there is a reason it is happening again. Maybe it will give us time to consider the bigger picture, and the imperative to honor Nature. 

After all these years

My plan for this week had originally been to talk more about the coronation and/or the debt ceiling cliffhanger. But my highest priority continues to be to try to document and describe my path (as it turns out) toward the Goddess, and beyond all our current constructs. I've just had an important step on that path, a smallish decision but, I think a necessary and important one. So let's talk about it in real time.

OK, for over a decade, I have had a handful of boxes in storage out east. Since packing them up and leaving them, I have moved so many times, too many times. I had pared my belongings way back, almost eradicating myself in the process, but I never felt I was in a place of enough permanence to send for what remained. And, truth be told, I'm still not.

But this feels like the moment to start getting them out here to Duluth. 

Why? A lot of considerations are converging.

When I placed these things in storage, I believed three major things that I no longer believe. The first was that there would finally be a happy ending, that (hopefully in England) I would, despite all the odds, find my "forever home". If it was with a Prince Charming, so much the better, but if I was on my own, at least I would grow older in an apartment much like my Schenectady grandmother's: Victorian, high-ceilinged, art on the walls, and comfy. Mostly comfy! I didn't understand yet that my path had taken me so very far from overlap with the economic and social constructs that might make such a fairy tale ending possible. Right now, this minute, I am comfy -- I am grateful, and need to take advantage of that fact to consolidate some boxes. But strictly speaking, I only have income for the most low level public housing, and if that moment should arrive, it may be just too hard to have my few beautiful things (paintings etc.) with me or on the wall. The contrast will be too painful.

The second thing I believed was that someone would eventually wish to write a biography of me! (Yes, so much for trying hard not to be narcissistic!) That I would become famous either because of my efforts to get into English church music, or as a scholar of Herbert Howells, or, finally, as a woman scouting out the path into a more Goddess-based future. Some young scholar would want to see my childhood memorabilia, scrapbooks, MMus research, artwork, you name it. As of now, I would still give anything for my voice to be heard, and for someone to think I am important enough to catalogue in this way. But I no longer assume that this will ever happen.

Lastly, a decade ago, I still took seriously my role of family genealogist, and took a personal interest in the materials I have. I thought in my "old age" I would love to do more of this research. But right this minute, even this level of "patriarchal" research is profoundly unattractive to me. When that box wends its way west to me, I'll have a lot of decisions to make.

I guess it's like this. After all these years, the things that were important to me and to my sense of self simply are not any more. I truly have been reborn, gone through a portal, or whatever metaphor you prefer. Which is more a 2023 portrait of me, my last five or ten blog posts or my little silver picture frame? My hard, uncertain journey all over the map, or college teaching notes from the early 2000s? My day-to-day city bus reality going through the end of COVID time, embracing the Goddess, and trying to adequately write about my present, or the research my great-aunt did to prove our aristocratic English heritage (and my eligibility to join the Daughters of the American revolution, paradoxically!)? I guess the time has come to pick up this last layer of belongings, prayerfully and intentionally align them with what the Goddess may want for me moving forward, and either make a place for them here in Duluth, or honor them and get them to a better home.

Just laughing at the difference between belongings (the things you own and keep with you) and belonging (a feeling of fitting in). That, I guess, will have to wait for another day!

Goddess Words 20: Flowers

This time has been so "fraught" with anxiety. (Don't you love that word? It apparently comes from a word meaning "freight", or the process of loading up a ship.) This debt ceiling thing has almost done me in...I'll probably speak about that soon, but today, I thought it was time to provide some balance with a new Goddess word.

So...flowers! Spring obviously comes extremely late in Northern Minnesota, later still right by the edge of Lake Superior where it can be in the 40's when it is 80 or 90 degrees over the hill. This spring has also been unnaturally dry. Here's where we are at as of this morning. Tulips and dandelions came out about a week ago. Lilies of the valley are just starting to come out, as are a number of flowering trees and shrubs. Lilacs look to me to be about five days away from flowering. Down at the Rose Garden, as of a few days ago the buds were just starting to appear...

One of the paradoxes of my life is the fact that I have never been particularly focused on nature, not in any kind of close, loving kind of way -- the exception being a passion for water, particularly large lakes like Champlain and Superior. When I was young, my family had friends who had a "camp" (summer house) in the southern Adirondacks. The dad would take us kids on hikes up the mountain behind the property, and he would stop about every two feet to point out plants, flowers, trees and mosses, all with their Latin names. It was just too much for an eight-year old, and unfortunately his passion backfired into putting me off both mountain climbing and plants. To this day, I can identify only maybe a dozen flowers, a dozen types of trees, a dozen birds, and a dozen wild North American animals (squirrels, chipmunks, deer, etc.) Overall, I'd say most of my life, I would have been just as happy looking at paintings of nature as at nature Herself.

But the COVID era combined with an inner revolution toward all things Goddess/Nature/Gaia seems to be changing me. While I'm certainly still at sea with naming (Latin or English, both of which could ultimately be seen as that scientific separation I mused about last time), my heart finally loves flowers, trees, animals, birds...I talk to them. Call them "sweetheart". I'm in charge of about half a dozen small outside pots of flowers for the summer, and I'm thrilled to see the colors coming out, the textures, the shapes. I feel the current drought, want to keep these flowers alive, want to "care for" them. Their beauty astonishes me. Nature's creativity astonishes me.

And like so many of the other Goddess words on my 20-year old list, "flower" can be a noun or a verb. How wonderful it is for any good or beautiful thing to flower, to be planted in the right soil and thrive! Of course, there are seasons: Nature wants Her works to flower and thrive, to blossom at a moment in time, but She also knows that what usually follows is a season of "death" or dormancy. It's not something to fear. Life is everlasting and, if the environment around them is nurtured, the flowers will return. Life will return, just because that is what it does. It doesn't need saving, or too much human intervention. This is, of course, a bigger metaphor, which can be comforting as well as thought-provoking!

Whatever season the flowers are in where you live, go out and say hi to one. See if you can feel its essence, or interact with it in what is a new way for you. See what that one subtle shift does.