This morning, we are having an early "gale of November" in Duluth. Lake Superior is churning, 30-, 40-plus mph winds from the northeast are wailing. Trees are bent over, losing their remaining summer leaves. Some rain is falling, and in the "place" I am at this morning, the drops of water are the tears of the Goddess.
If She is crying, why? Because it is heartbreaking. (All the many "its".) It is heartbreaking that humanity has still not learned that war is never a solution. It is heartbreaking that humans still hate each other and willingly cause violence to one another, to animals, and to the earth. It is heartbreaking that we haven't learned to see the same warlike violence in our common institutions, our entertainment, our assumptions -- in order to make different daily choices. It is heartbreaking that we still hope that our modern models will want to fix the problems they have caused. If She is crying, if She is heartbroken, it may be because She had hoped we would have gained more wisdom by now.
As for me, heartbreak has been my constant companion this entire lifetime, even when my pain was not superficially evident to people around me. However, in recent months the tidal wave of trauma has started to ebb as I have finally more fully let go of the structures-that-are, and begun to "inhabit" a structure-that-will-be. (Is that why my right arm has been hurting?! I've been holding on for grim dear life, and have finally had to relax my grip and let go.) The rooms of this brand new house are basically empty; the structure only consists of a foundation-cum-scaffolded walls and roof. Only the bare bones are in place for a house, and for the values which some people will see as "home". It's a little early, perhaps, to take refuge here, but it may be the first time in 68 years that I have felt sheltered as the storms rage.
