Versus

I've been in contemplative mode the last few days, helped out by being in the country again. It was an active choice allowing time away from news and chattering external input. The only input? Grandmother trees blowing, and hawks sitting on branches or telephone poles waiting for their prey, and rain turning to snow...and the dawns of the latest mornings of the year.  

That doesn't mean I am unaware of the dust storm of monstrosities facing us. Because I have seen it coming for several decades, I may be less surprised than many people, is all. Once again, I've thought long and hard about the war of "good versus evil", and realize anew what a terrible misunderstanding it is, conceptually.

Today, forget the whole feminist thing -- and, of course, as usual, politics and even the specifics of religious constructs. This is pure practicality, and personal perspective. I am one of those people who simply cannot "kill" anything bigger than a fruit fly or mosquito. In this lifetime, I could not function in our competitive world, or take up the kinds of careers (such as law) for which I was intellectually suited but not spiritually suited. I cry when I see people or the earth being injured and trashed. I want all of us to love each other and get along. I want people to honor and protect Mother Earth. I want (even though I find it hard to adjust to!) to be surrounded by love and beauty and harmony. While I am not a saint in the traditional sense of the word, I suppose I am pretty high on the "goodness" scale, but I am hardly alone. There are probably many millions (and perhaps billions) of others in this world like me.

Our traditional constructs tell all of us to "fight" evil -- indeed that good must fight evil and triumph. And yet here's the problem. If you place many of us on that battlefield -- even knowing the complete cruelty and inhumanity of the foe just over the hill -- we cannot fight. We simply do not have it in us, the will or desire to kill anyone or anything. This is not unawareness or lack of understanding. This is not fear, or putting our heads in the sand, or being unrealistic. If anything, it may be understanding the reality too well. In a duality construct, so-called "evil" will probably always "win" against "good" because good people find it entirely too hard to go against their authentic natures. We simply cannot pick up weapons as wholeheartedly as the other side does, if at all.

So what do we do in the face of the dust storm? We stand tall in our goodness, and use our best gifts to support an emerging, more unified, post-duality world. We create beautiful writing, and visual arts, and songs, and home-grown or home-cooked food, and we care for our neighbors, or family, or pets. We care for the earth. We do it to unite with people and planet. We do it in the midst of the dust storm. We withstand the dust storm. We will come out the other side into a world with no concept of "versus". And it will be a new, loving world we have helped create by being 100% true to ourselves. 

Postscript

On a very slushy, wet-snowy morning in upstate New York, I just need to add a postscript to my last post, where I talked about how hard it is, even for me, to relax and warm up to more Goddess-like situations. 

Since I wrote that post five days ago, it has become clearer and clearer: if it is hard for me to "take" an environment characterized by warmth, welcome, acceptance, etc., how much harder must it be for people whose lives (and perhaps philosophies) are steeped in the opposite qualities, who default to conflict and anger and pushback. In the world as it has become, love has perhaps only been one option, and a scary one, even for those of us on board in theory. I mean the real, "love is the only thing that exists" kind of love. Our hearts have so many walls up to keep out the hurt of non-love.

A sort of parallel thought came to me over the weekend as well...a "what if?" Up until now, the things I really wanted out of life have seemed impossibly out of reach. Sometimes it has literally felt like I was hitting some solid existential wall. I'm thankful for the amazing journey I've had trying to connect with what I love, and thankful that I have survived so far, but it hasn't been an easy path, or one that brought longterm, fruitful alignment with my passions, or community. But it occurred to me, having so recently 100% committed to the notion of a Goddess -- "What if She passionately wants me to be fulfilled? What if She wants her daughters to live their best, most beautiful and powerful lives? What if things would be different with the Goddess than in the religious construct I was born into?" Yes, it is complicated for me by the fact that I am connected to that old construct through the service of choral evensong, but for the rest of this holiday season, I will focus on the joy of being a facet of a thoroughly loving Goddess, and on the (almost unbelievable) notion that She wants me to thrive. I'm not talking money, I'm talking, being powerfully me, in the place where it makes sense. For me (and perhaps many other women), may that kind of self-actualization be the new light that is dawning in the world. 

Laughing with Myself

Well, I guess no matter what role you play in this world, you have to laugh at (or with) yourself from time to time. When you are a mystic, it can be hard -- you take yourself, the world, and spirituality so very seriously, but when there's a chink in your armor, and you see certain things clearly, you have to laugh. I mean, really.

So, I keep writing about gravitating to love and harmony, compassion and community, no matter what. That this is the way of the Goddess. The other day, I actually found myself in an environment unusually well-characterized by these qualities, and what happened? Rather than being thrilled, I found myself stiffening up, becoming more uptight than usual, more aloof, less open than most of the people around me. Now I don't know for sure whether this particular group has the potential to be "my tribe" -- that remains to be seen -- but in the hours after the event, I mulled over why I had responded that way. I've tended to be on the outside looking in in so many situations, the new person in a community, the stranger; changing that perspective on a dime simply may not be possible. And snobbery remains my worst failing. It's no longer based on what it might have been based on earlier in my life (a socio-economic/ethnic group that I never really belonged to, or understood, anyway); now it could be said to be more a case of the snobbery of solitude. I think I carry a belief that being so alone (a mystic and "anchoress") has made me too different from others to really join current-paradigm groups anywhere. There may also be an element of underlying distrust -- I have experienced too many masks of "niceness" over the years that covered up less positive qualities. I'm literally scared of clowns, and masked balls, and Halloween, after all! And perhaps I push away before I can be pushed?

Interestingly enough, within 24 hours, I actually discovered another organization online that seems to align with the qualities I'm talking about, and yet after a few minutes of excitement, I felt the same stiffness take over. And when I went back to look for the specific page the next day, I couldn't find it! Again, should I laugh or cry?!

So "tribe" keeps slipping through my fingers, whether due to my own conflicted energy or events outside myself. But the third part of this story has a somewhat happier ending. This morning, somehow, in spite of it all, I was able to claim that central place where England, English church music, and the Goddess overlap. I realized that no matter how many or few people may also inhabit this place, this is my home. In that sense, no one can take "home" away from me. Spending 95% of my life in another "place" doesn't invalidate it. Whether I have a tribe or not doesn't invalidate it. People not understanding me doesn't invalidate it. Those are my core passions, my primary Goddess-given gifts. And for the shortest moment in time, literally two or three minutes, I truly celebrated myself, and laughed for joy. What an incredible ride it has been! And what a novel experience, to laugh for joy, not "at" myself or other humorous situations!

"All You Need is..."

Love.

The other night, the most surprising experience led me to feel grief and sadness.

I watched Michael Moore's documentary, "Where to Invade Next". I don't know what I expected, exactly, but it turned out to be a fascinating film -- he visited various countries with enviable programs and social systems, hoping to inspire Americans to adopt them: gourmet public school cafeteria lunches, homework-free schools, free university educations, incredibly long paid job vacations, excellent women's health care, civilized prisons, female prominence in all forms of leadership...basically, I don't know which was more stark: my incredulity that the (mostly) European countries have such people-friendly programs, or the incredulity of the Europeans being interviewed that we don't have them!

Initially, I felt uplifted. But soon I felt quite weepy. My life (and my relative inability to function in our much more cutthroat system) might (yes, "might") have been so much different in one of these countries. Even putting aside my specific upbringing and my efforts to take part in English church music, what would it have been like to live in a society that places a higher value on human life and self-expression? That supports people more warmly in their unique aspirations and individual journeys? That wants its workers and citizens of all ages to be happy, healthy, and fulfilled? Clearly, none of the countries featured is without huge problems, and things may have changed since the filming was done about a decade ago. But this movie caused me to reconsider the statement I made the other day about rarely seeing the Goddess in the world. By the final examples in Iceland, I could "see" the Goddess...while the institutions cited are still mostly patriarchal, the lives and values of women seemed to have had a greater transformational impact in these other countries than they have done over here. I felt sad for us.

As we near a new year where love may seem even more invisible than ever on the wider world stage, it becomes more important to make love visible in ourselves. To make love our "home". To base every action in love and beauty, whenever possible. (When it is not possible, just bless the situation and move on to one where loving and being loved comes easily.) The song is right, about love being all we need.

The Day After

(I wrote this as a draft last Saturday, but due to snow and other factors, couldn't get back to it until now. It still seems relevant. PS: As I update this, snow is falling again.)

Well, Mother Nature was definitely in charge on Thanksgiving...heavy, wet snow ended up cancelling many family get-togethers. The apple crumble I made ended up feeding the few, not the many. I think it elicited one or two smiles...

And yet, the blanket of snow and the enforced time off seemed to focus a spotlight on the "excessiveness" of this whole upcoming month. The excessive amounts of food, the excessive travel, the excessive spending, the excessive materialism. While other countries seem to take part in some of this end-of-the-year activity, I don't believe anyone does it quite like the "good old US of A". For years, I have found December to be hard, increasingly impossible, but in the last few years it has become almost grotesque. Truly. If we are still admired around the world, it is hard to see how. The rapaciousness of it all -- from top billionaires on down to people lining up to race into stores for good deals -- is jaw-dropping and embarrassing. And I guess the question in my heart at least every other minute and a half is, where is the Goddess in all this? Where? She's not in grocery stores crammed with plastic-covered food, She's not in big box stores crammed with plastic-covered home goods, She's not in all the resources necessary to fly or drive or otherwise motor people and goods from place to place. She's not in urban and suburban sprawl. She's not in overeating, or over-binging on TV shows, or violent sports, or war, or "artificial" intelligence. In fact, I've reached the point where I am hard-pressed to imagine anywhere She might be in this world we've created. No wonder it took me almost seventy years to find Her. She's still largely invisible to the eye.

For the first time, I am reading Marianne Williamson's A Woman's Worth, and the first two chapters are simply awesome. It's basically about a woman's heart and divinity being within, which is, of course, why it is so hard for most of us to link up with them outside ourselves. As with so many of the other books that have meant a lot to me the last few years, it was written thirty years ago. Clearly I wasn't ready back then to make that inward journey so completely. Now I have done it.

Forgive me, repeating myself. This is what I think Mother Earth wants and needs from us now -- respect and love. Only respect and love. She doesn't need us fighting the forces that are hurting Her. She needs us to stop, stand still, and love the earth. Accept Her agency and power over the planet. Allow Her to go through the processes She needs to go through. We don't need new inventions to fight global warming -- the "fight" is part of the warming. We don't need new financial investments in clean energy -- "investing" in anything but Nature's wellbeing is at least part of what got us into this pickle in the first place. Earth will not be saved as we want it to function. It will be "saved" in the manner that guarantees the planet's longterm viability for many forms of life. We have to release our personal and societal expectations, or they will be released for us.

The snow is melting. For upstate New York, anyway, it was sort of a "teaser" storm. The day after Thanksgiving, things started to go back to "normal". Or did they?

The bread rises

Well, true to the new normal, things are bouncing from one extreme to another, weather-wise. Where a week ago this area was completely in drought, in the last few days we have been inundated with rain, which will turn to snow in a day or two, just in time for Thanksgiving. 

I feel almost soggy -- with new insights and (I hope) wisdom. It's like I have been a sponge in recent months, soaking in all the new observations and understandings of a new level of being human, and I have absorbed as much as I can and am now absolutely saturated. In addition to that, the sudden movement has been, at times, stressful and painful. I suspect this means that for the near future, it is more a time of healing and incorporating these new "aha"s, and less a time of forced outward or upward expansion. It is a plateau, a plateau where I have the privilege of a roof overhead and warm inside temperatures. There is a cozy kitchen where I can bake. (Hallelujah! It took half-a-page, but I have finally arrived at the right metaphor!)

I suspect that many, many people are undergoing a similar kind of inner spiritual rising. We're like loaves of bread in the greased bowl covered by a kitchen towel, sitting near the radiator. We cannot help but "prove" at this moment in history. We cannot help but slowly expand, and become bread for the world. We cannot help but quietly grow into people more beautiful, nurturing, love-filled, and joy-filled than ever before. While it does matter that there are people outside the bowl who represent (for us, anyway) something ugly and inedible, it's OK to keep that old towel on top and to continue to focus on our rising. And there is nothing sharp, or painful, or harmful about the bread we are becoming. It won't kill. It will create, and nurture lives. It will be warm, healthful, homey, and representative of women's values and traditions all through time. 

Bake some bread or pie or cookies or apple crumble for your Thanksgiving feast -- from scratch -- and see if it changes the people who eat it, just a bit! See if you can see the walls around their hearts starting to fall. See if they smile! Happy Thanksgiving!

One Small Step

There's a moment in a journey when you just have to accept that you are simply not being given the advantage of a clear vision of your longterm destination. I mean, this has happened a number of times over the years, and yet usually I still had the "trying to get back to England" goal as my larger impetus. And as much as I would ideally like to be there, I'm only open to it now if I'm invited. Very WASP of me, I know! But this knocking down of doors to other people's hearts and other countries' hearts has proved futile. At my age, I just haven't got the energy to do it anymore. This is the moment when age becomes an asset. Either I will eventually magnetize an easy way over there, or I will not. Ultimately, the "home" I seek is within, that sacred place within, the cathedral within, the soaring hills within, the rich, flowing fountain of love within.

So, I cannot see very far down the road, and I can only perform one step, and that is to finally put in a change of address. While it doesn't commit me to where I am now "forever", or I suppose at all, it does remove one major consideration, which is going backward. I love Duluth, and all it has been for me on and off since 1990. But I have circled back around to where this lifetime started, and it's impossible to imagine the last phase of my life in the American midwest. I simply am not a midwesterner. I've continued to keep it as a remote possibility the last few weeks, but no longer. The shores of Lake Superior served me well. I am so grateful. I will miss my friends there, and try to stay in touch with them as best I can in these turbulent times.

Other than this, what do I know about the future? I am more convinced than ever that the energy of the Goddess is in the ascendant. It seems crazy, as each successive news item seems more nightmarish, painful and surreal, but it comes against a backdrop of knowing (and seeing evidence of) increasing numbers of people gaining spiritual wisdom and increasing numbers of women coming out of the shadows. Seeing what is happening in the world makes it all the more crucial that we women become more visible, more evolved, and more audible in our own ways. All the world's imbalances stem from a single source, in my mind, humanity having forgotten the Goddess and the divinity of the feminine. Those of us who can re-member Her, or whose ancient memories of Her are rising up, are literally sewing the pieces of Her back together for the world to see. What also heartens me is my belief that nothing happening in the world that is not "of love" will survive. The manifestations of "not love" are hideous and shocking, but will not be super long-lasting in the larger scheme of things.

Yes, it's frustrating, only taking one small step when you want to race to a destination. When after 35 tumultuous years, you wish to see a cozy permanent home directly in front of you and just get there already. To stop and breathe and be patient is hard. But that is my calling for this holiday period. 

Goddess Words 34: Earthy

Two times ago, I wrote about the word "heavenly" -- I guess it makes sense that I turn to its arguable opposite, "earthy", with its several meanings. When I wrote my list all those years ago, I think I had in mind unashamedly being of the earth, being rooted in the soil and on this planet. A spirituality of being physical, with all its pain and beauty, odors and beautiful vistas, animal instincts and poetic stirrings. In other words, the spirituality of finding moments of heaven here, not waiting for a great future moment of transcendence. 

An observation I've read in various sources over the years is that man has historically sought to transcend the physical and earthy. That would certainly help to explain all sorts of things, from cathedrals to skyscrapers to space flight to complex legal, religious, and economic systems, to suburban sprawl. There has been a bias against the earth and earthiness, all that natural dirtiness, wildness, and power. Several definitions of the word slide toward disrespect for Nature, the earth, and women: someone may be said to have an "earthy" sense of humor when their focus is on sex, bodily functions, etc.  We women have also been caught up in the aversion toward the physical, learning to hide natural processes like our periods, breastfeeding, and menopause. It's also interesting that we've been blamed for humanity's downfall, for the "sin" of eating the beautiful, lush, delicious, healthy fruit of a tree. In any other context, this would be seen as valid enjoyment of Nature's bounty...

I am one of the least earthy women on the planet (Yes, I am sure I have said this before!) Wilderness isn't my natural habitat. I'm more drawn to seeing Nature than being in it or putting my hands in the dirt. I have tended to be far more comfortable in carefully cultivated gardens than in fields of wildflowers, more comfortable with Hudson River School painters' depictions of mountains than the mountains themselves, watching a wildly wavy Great Lake from a shoreside window rather than standing where the water soaks me. I am more comfortable in a cathedral where the fan vaulted ceiling reminds me of trees, than under the trees themselves.

But Nature is increasingly moving me. Eagle sightings (fairly frequent right now) thrill me. The full moon thrills me. Interesting patterns and shapes on dying leaves thrill me. I am looking out at a bone-dry landscape, autumn's earthy hues on steroids: tans, browns, dark greens and a little bit of rust red. It has been too dry to smell the normally moist fallen leaves and the pre-winter soil. Rain (and perhaps snow) is due tonight. Winter tends to sap the earthiness out of the landscape, once it is too cold to smell the dirt, so I'm glad to have been reminded of my potential earthiness before that thick frozen ground cover returns. I'm glad that I'm slowly starting to feel that I belong to the Earth more than I do to a civilization. Perhaps in that way, I am slowly starting to be genuinely "earthy".

untitled

I guess many of you know by now (in fact, may have known well before I did) that the Archbishop of Canterbury has resigned. (Given my intense connection to the world of English church music, you might have thought that I would have heard rumblings sooner, but I just didn't.) Knowing the shock wave that this represents for the C of E, the cathedrals, and Britain generally, close on the heels of the death of Queen Elizabeth, it is stunning, and I am saddened and concerned for the place and milieu I feel so attached to. 

But of course anger has bubbled up as well, due to the nature of the underlying issue that was repeatedly covered up, an issue that continues to be downplayed or even flaunted in a host of other non-church contexts as well: physical and sexual abuse. My personal pain stems from a completely different place, the level of condescension and rejection I experienced when I realized how much I loved the music of the men-and-boys' choir tradition and felt called to sing it. There must have been scores of other girls and women in the 1960's, 70's and 80's in the same boat, excellent people/excellent musicians prevented from serving the church simply because of our gender. The fact that abusive men were apparently welcome in any capacity is unthinkable. Absurd. Abuse victims have been through a hell I cannot even imagine; the unusual, rootless tailspin that has become the rest of my life seems minor by comparison. And yet both sides of this loveless coin cause immense lifelong repercussions, confusion, and pain.

Ultimately, there isn't much more that I ought to say, except that paradigms allowing abuse simply may not be salvageable. It's not just that I don't think the Goddess, in Her re-emergence, will stand for it. It's that Goddess-friendly societies would be unlikely to generate such extremes of power and powerlessness in the first place. 

Life and Death

Two things are funny. One, that I've never in nine years used this exact title before. Two, the way that my brain filled in a fourth word, "Struggle", even though I'm too post-duality to be talking about that any more! But it is a measure of how often we hear the term "life and death struggle" in our world. There are far too many of them going on.

In recent weeks, I have read a book and, now, seen a movie about 30-somethings in a life and death struggle with cancer. And while I personally would be unlikely to look at cancer as something to "fight", and while thankfully it isn't a disease which shows up often in my family, still, these accounts were moving, sobering, and bittersweetly beautiful in their own ways. Most of all, they were a shocking reminder (along with international news) of how often people die well before they reach the age of 68. I was suddenly and unexpectedly swamped by gratitude that I have been privileged enough to live this long! I experienced a tiny bit of survivor guilt as well -- it doesn't seem fair that people (real or fictional) would die when they are just starting a family or career, and that I (with neither) am still here. 

It helps to keep "life" and "death" in mind as I look at paths leading from this moment. What path would lead to the greatest measure of personal life/joy/love/beauty/harmony/fulfillment (even as the world seems intent on destruction)? What path or paths might lead to a complete personal spiritual shut down, physical limitation, or even bodily "death"? I may not believe that death is a real thing in the bigger picture, but I know that some paths aren't very spiritually efficient, and some lead immediately to another dimension or realm. As blind and stymied as I'm feeling right now, I am fiercely committed to staying alive (in this time, on this planet) as this important Transition unfolds. I need to keep speaking.

I can see a distant train track from the window, and a little while ago, as I was writing in my journal about all this, I saw a rare sight -- one train going one direction, and another passing it going the opposite direction. It seemed an apt metaphor, as in, which direction am I headed? Spiraling up, or back? Up and forward I hope, at least for now, yet in a manner that is grounded. I'm unbelievably thankful for the gift of life. Indeed, I feel more existential gratitude on this point than I ever remember feeling before. I gently choose "life", knowing that "death" is walking with all of us, but it doesn't have to be a constant struggle between the two. Just a subtle tipping in the "life" direction, a slightly clearer signal of intent. 

 

Anchoress for the Goddess

On a few occasions, I've spoken of my resonance with the life of an anchoress. On April 4, 2016, I wrote about this, having just visited the small reconstructed "cell" of the mystic Julian, in Norwich, England. It surprised even me -- I walked into her room, and sank on my knees to the floor. It may have been a past life memory, or simply a very powerful metaphor for who I am in this lifetime: but the notion of being rooted in place where one could attend the religious services of one's choice, but also pivot and have access to a door or window to facilitate contact with the outside world, seemed both familiar and relevant to who I am in this lifetime. Even eight years ago, I knew that my personal spirituality was unlikely to make me a good fit at any of the English cathedrals (although I would gladly attend choral evensong services virtually every day), so I knew the literal idea of being bricked into a room attached to a cathedral was not, and still is not, an option. Metaphorically, though, this identity is such a close fit. I cannot get it out of my mind.

I've played a lot with this, especially now, as I am in a strange limbo that doesn't fit me a whole lot better than the reality I have been in for a number of years in the midwest. Here's the "catch", I guess you would say. From what I have read about this phenomenon, the religious person (whether an actual member of an order or not) had to have the full support of the Church. The cell would be generally be built onto a church building, something you couldn't just go ahead and do yourself! Not only that...the anchoress (or anchorite) would have food delivered to them daily, and the -- ahem -- waste would be removed. On some level or other, the Church must have felt it benefitted enough from having a holy person in their midst that they were willing to "support" that person for the rest of their lives. I have always had many issues with the Church, but one thing I respect, historically, is that some extraordinary women could find a place and achieve a small amount of power. Sometimes, like Julian or Hildegard of Bingen, they were actually listened to.

No matter how often in the rest of this lifetime I have the privilege of attending evensong in England, the fact remains that I am not a Christian. I am an anchoress for the Goddess. The missing piece is, because there is no organized "religion" to attach myself to, who wants an anchoress for the Goddess? What community can I anchor myself in, attach myself to? Where is such a person wanted, in this crazy world running off the rails? I guess my musings on "the hills within" the other day brought me right back to my true nature, but my logical brain still cannot figure out where my place is, going forward. Perhaps continuing to anchor myself -- or at least doing my best to envision rooting -- will bring more clarity.

The Hills Within

Over these last few months, I have felt more abandoned by the Goddess than I have at any other time in years. I mean, I think abandonment is my main painful trigger in this lifetime, and this recent transition has brought it to the surface big time. Fortunately, it hasn't left me completely panicked because I know that this happens to mystics. A divine "radio station" may get static-y from time to time. When you are faced with moving from a rather stable situation, packing and getting boxes into storage, buying travel tickets, etc., your attention is forced outward in a way you aren't used to. Where am I going? Will it work out? I search the horizon for directional signs, and the skies for messenger hawks. And arriving at this new (although very old) destination, I have had to relearn the lay of the physical landscape, remember which roads are which, and try to discern if this is, indeed, my final destination, or just a stopping point. 

I suddenly realized this morning that to a large extent, I have fallen back on a more traditional male god model, visualizing the Goddess being outside of me, praying to Her, asking Her for guidance, etc. Just yesterday, I all but begged Her to help me see the right path forward. This morning, my oracle card was "Mountain/strength", and my brain immediately defaulted to Psalm 95, where the strength of the hills is "his also". And of course, from Psalm 121, "I will lift mine eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help." The concept that we need to look outside us for help is so very ingrained, isn't it? That our "salvation" (religious, political, economic, or other) is an outside factor, high above us, which we may not always be able to control. I think intellectually, I've understood for years that the Goddess is within me (not floating on a cloud in the sky), and yet my Anglican roots are still strong. Those psalms (sung to Anglican chant) flow through my bloodstream, like sap through a mother tree. And that is OK. I would be a very different representative of the Goddess without that unique factor. It is what makes me, me.

Traveling around this sprawling upstate NY urban/suburban area, you almost always see hills and mountains in the distance (the foothills of four mountain ranges, the Adirondacks, the Catskills, the Green Mountains, and the Berkshires). For the first time in my life, I'm finding that I love the sight. Right now, I think it may be a good thing for me not to be living near a vast body of water like Lake Superior or Lake Champlain. Those experiences deeply nurtured my soul at certain moments, but may have prevented grounding. The text to my "mountain" card basically speaks of being the mountain. It is a moment to re-acknowledge the strength within me, and the Goddess within me. I am the Goddess. I am the mountain. I am a being of strength and wisdom. The "hills" are within. My feet touch the ground, and my head is in the clouds! Listening within, I will hear Her when She speaks. Looking within, I will "find" Her, although She never left. I was called on this pilgrimage, and can trust Her timing and knowledge of the bigger picture of how it is all meant to work out. And as I get ever more aligned, it will become more a case of not needing to actively listen or look at all! Guidance will be so automatic that there's barely a time or space lag involved.

What Can One Say?

Tuesday night/early Wednesday morning, I woke up in the dark, of course wondering what was happening with the election, but not wishing to turn on a radio or computer or television to find out. So sort of "for fun", I drew from one of my oracle decks and got "Tsunami". The fun came to a screeching halt. I had a sick feeling I knew what that meant -- and I would find out five or six hours later what happened. I was stunned by the margin of victory, the wavelike decisiveness of it all. It was an almost identical kick in the stomach to eight years ago...but worse, because now, two completely different brilliant, qualified women have been beaten by the same presidential candidate. As a woman, I feel plowed under, for the millionth time in my life. What can one say?

Many are saying quite a lot. For that reason, and because the winner doesn't deserve the honor of my attention, I'm not going to join the chorus. Indeed, I don't resonate with any construct involving winners and losers. This is, almost literally, not my world.

So there is only one thing to do -- to continue to be me. There is one thing to say -- my truth. Recently, someone told me that what I write about is not really of any use to anyone in the world as it is. That my perspective may only become helpful to folks at some future time if things "go south"...well, if that is the case, then I'm honored to be helping to lay the early groundwork of a love-based society. I grieve widespread hatred and violence, but my primary focus will continue to be on the only things that really exist, positive energies like love, beauty, and harmony. I will continue to venerate (though not "worship") the Goddess/our Earth Mother. I will resist the temptation to fight an old paradigm which is losing steam of its own accord. I will put all my energies into that future time, and it is not so very far off now.

Saintly Days

On several occasions in the past, I have written posts on November 1 or 2 about the Christian commemorations, All Saints Day and All Souls Day. So I will try not to repeat myself. But there are a few new factors this year. One of them is that, in addition to as ever remembering the hymn "For All the Saints" (with its, for me, highly problematical words), I suddenly also remembered a descant to the hymn, sung by the sopranos in my childhood Episcopal church choir. That such an obscure tune, possibly written by our organist and not in the hymnal, would survive in my head for nearly 60 years is remarkable.

The second factor was finding that I have a really negative response toward a term that is evidently used of saints in the Catholic church, "heroic virtue." At first glance, bravery (in the face of attack or death or challenges to one's faith) would not seem to be a bad thing -- especially when the saintly person is trying to help others. I guess the notion is that heroism comes easily to saints, and that it is second nature tor them to put others before themselves. No surprises there.

And yet...once you find yourself perched outside of the duality umbrella, this notion of sainthood can't help but rankle. It takes for granted conflict, two sides set up in opposition to one another, people being forced to fight (for their own faith or others') -- all that "A vs. B" stuff that I just don't seem to resonate with any more. Somehow, saintliness in a violence context just doesn't seem as holy to me any more.

"My" saint (Valeria) -- to whom the chant piece I analyzed for my master's degree was dedicated -- was supposedly killed by her fiance, and went to heaven in a ball of flame. Her insistence on converting to Christianity outraged her future husband...there's an awfully fine line between her being honored for her faith (while alive) and for her martyrdom/death. Many traditionally religious people might see no difference. But for me, there is entirely too much violence in this whole construct...Heck, that particular 9th century incident sounds horrifyingly like present-day domestic violence. And the whole "martyr" thing is a hard model for me too, as a modern woman. Even in the 21st century, women too seldom get to live their own lives, aligned solely with their own values and inclinations. 

Perhaps, then, this is the last year that these two Christian holy days will resonate at all with me. Any "saintliness" I aspired to as a child certainly never happened within that religious construct (!) From this moment forward, I hope my eyes will see evidence of the Goddess in the world every day; people aligning with Her values for the sheer joy (and logic) of doing so, not as a counterpoint to "evil" or attack, or with the goal of "saving others". It would be lovely to see people regularly manifesting beauty, love and harmony simply because it is the only viable path forward, simply because those are the only qualities they have within them.

A Certain kind of Light

At this time of year, right before the end of daylight savings time, there is such a warm but sharply mysterious quality to the light late in the afternoon. Right now, the trees have lost most of their leaves, but with the sun so low in the sky, it shines brightly with nothing filtering it, at such an odd angle. (This is when I hate the fact that I'm not really a very good nature writer. I've been reading some relatively unknown works by Rachel Carson, and, in effect, wishing I were her!)

Perhaps this pale, strident yellow light is resonating basically as a "calm before the storm". I don't know what will happen next week, or exactly what the repercussions will be, but there does seem to be a quality among people I am meeting of a collective breath being held. Is it fanciful to think that even Nature is holding Her breath? In a more Goddess-centered world, I doubt such conflicts between radically different sides would even exist. Leadership would be more wisdom-based, inclusive, and circular, not top down. Easy enough to say, isn't it?

I envision a leadership that includes Nature -- and directly. I'm not quite sure what I mean by this, except that people would meet outside or in a setting with large windows, inviting Nature in, including Her in many decision-making processes. If people "sat" immersed in the magical quality of the late-afternoon, late-fall light, they might naturally come to different kinds of conclusions than they do in most human-constructed offices and cavernous assembly chambers, under artificial lighting. We might listen to the hawks circling overhead, or honor the wisdom of the stream rushing by, or think about the future as it relates to the earthworms burrowing below us. We might "see" the light in the grasses, and in the roots of trees, and in the pinecones. As societies, we may be cutting off our potential for enlightenment by doing more and more of our work inside or on screens, away from the genuine light of day.

Sunday is traditionally the hardest day of the year for me, when it gets dark around 4 pm for the first time. I don't think I have "SAD", but that first shift backwards is always a bit traumatizing. I try to remember that the "certain kind of light" is what it is, whether we humans determine that it is happening at 4 pm or 3 pm. 

The Defibrillator

I guess I may use metaphors a little too much, but they help me understand things and I figure they may help others understand things, if the metaphor is apt. So today, I was looking back on the month since I arrived back east, and realize that in a way, it has been like a defibrillator, shocking me back to life. Now, this doesn't mean that I was literally dying in Duluth -- indeed, I underwent quite a rebirth over the last two years or so, but into a routine and situation that no longer quite worked or was stimulating enough to sustain me. It was the perfect place to rise to a new level of awareness, but perhaps not the perfect place to move forward from there. And I'm not entirely sure that "here" is either, but racing around a sprawling populated area that I'm only somewhat familiar with nowadays, attending events that are unfamiliar, meeting people who are unfamiliar, and traveling in fast-moving highway arteries has been a jolt..like an electrical charge, potentially aligning me with a new kind of life, if (ahem!) it doesn't do me in.

Of course it has to be said that part of the shock has been to see (and hear) the horrifying expressions of national and international hatred and conflict getting louder and more lethal. As much as I have expected (in general terms) the kinds of nightmares that are already characterizing this decade, the reality comes close to being unbearable for many of us. The only path through it is love. Not the word "love", but the genuine ability to love others, or -- at the very least -- say or do as little harm as possible to people, plants, animals, the earth, or any form of life. (Coincidentally, I seem to be becoming more of a vegetarian. My system seems to be going "off" meat, anyway.)

Most mornings, I start the day writing down an intention, and then blindly pulling a card from one of the three oracle decks I have with me. This morning, I couldn't even come up with an intention. I literally wrote, "I have no idea!" I think it may be the first time in this whole leg of my journey when I was honest enough to say that. I am clueless. And perhaps not surprisingly, I picked a card that explores being at the heart of the Divine. At this moment, all I can seem to "do" is "be" here. And try to personify the Goddess's beautiful energy as much as I can.

One Lesson

One lesson of this liminal time became clear to me yesterday. I have managed to find four or five Goddess-themed or metaphysical stores around the region. Old-fashioned me, I'd thought that perhaps I'd find that they had traditional bulletin boards, and that I might find little thumbtacked posts along the lines of, "Goddess-friendly house looking for housemate, reasonable rent". Well, of course, most of this is done online these days. Because I have not taken naturally to that aspect of our modern world, I have perhaps sabotaged myself, although going into these stores in person served an important purpose: I've met people in person. So far, I can't say that I've met any women who I can imagine sharing a space with. Even taking into account that I have such a unique life and educational background, and that I recognize that I'll never find a complete overlap, it's been somewhat of an eye-opener. I've been craving enough community in this area of my life that perhaps I created a not-easily-fulfilled vision. In fact, almost each woman I met said, "Hey, that kind of housing sounds like a good idea!" If I were in a different situation, perhaps I would be the one buying a house then looking for roommates!

So, exactly one month since my first full day "out east", and I am still betwixt-and-between. My own self-imposed deadlines/lifelines have come and gone, and while I'm clearer and clearer about who I am, where on earth (much less the Capital District) I might actually fit in remains a mystery. I start each day, asking the Goddess where she wants me, and the clearest leadings I get are the dreaded "no's" -- cynics would surely say that by now, I should have realized that my whole belief system is a recipe for failure in the "real world". I do get that; res ipsa loquitur! My life speaks exactly to that! But I stubbornly refuse to die or disappear, at least, not yet. (That has been my motto for decades now!)

But I may have to accept that there could be completely different kind of living situation or place calling me. That love and commonality in some other form may be coming down the road, and that I need to stay open, curious, and soft-hearted. And this applies to looking at so many of the heartbreaking issues facing our world. As horrific as they are, there is an important lesson within them for all of us, if we can remain in a place of eagerness to learn and grow. 

Goddess Words 33: Channels

It's time for a new Goddess word, but today I wasn't up for some of the words left on my list, so I chose "channels". Interestingly, it is a word with a host of meanings, although broadly speaking they are all related: a passage or pathway, a river or watercourse deep enough for a boat to pass through, frequencies for radio and TV stations.  As a verb, to channel is to direct something through a certain pathway, or to transmit information. And also interestingly, I had both "channels" and "open channels" on this original list ("love" appears three times!)

So when I was thinking about the Goddess fifteen or twenty years ago, why did I associate open channels with Her? I am not entirely sure, except to say that I picture Her as one who is always open to us, arms open, heart open, and soul open. She doesn't need to close herself or protect herself because ultimately she is more powerful than any outside force. The channels through which she gives birth (to human life, animal and plant life, planets, stars, galaxies) are open, not blocked. She wants all forms of life to continue to evolve moving forward -- and, despite all the hard balancing She is having to do to to maintain life on earth, She is not about "death", because in the longterm, death doesn't exist. All life has been birthed by the Love she constantly pours out, and we have access to that Love all day, every day, even beyond our so-called "deaths". Love is being channeled directly to us and through us, but it is up to us whether to keep our channels open.

Increasingly, I think of a lot of the writing I am doing here as "channeled" spiritual thoughts from my own highest self. I suppose I have been more open to channeling than many other people, especially well-educated people, and I can understand why it can seem pretty "out there", spontaneous, and unscientific. When someone channels a specific historical figure, or speaks in odd voices, even I can be a bit skeptical. But on the other side of the coin, I think that every creative person alive has essentially "channeled" their artistic, musical, poetic, or other expressive material. Many of us share that feeling that we don't know exactly where our creative urges are coming from, that they seem much bigger than ourselves. And a case could be made that most humans frequently channel the Divine -- when we help someone, when we cook a delicious meal, when we knit scarves for the homeless or hand-make gifts for our friends. Positive, beautiful acts may be said to have been channeled, birthed through some greater Love that we can barely understand. So when I intuit how the Goddess might think or feel, even knowing that I might be completely wrong, I'm comfortable with that activity. If it helps me to get through some of the tricky channels of life, or helps another person do the same, it's certainly worth a try.

I also think that a Goddess-led activity will generally happen fairly effortlessly, with the kind of ease that a boat (or even a leaf) floats down a wide river. Aspects of my current transition have happened easily and effortlessly, for which I am outrageously grateful. And I've tried to patiently wait out the ways in which I have felt stalled or blocked, knowing that possibly the solutions in front of me weren't the right ones. Waiting for the best possible door to open is hard. There are a number of Erie Canal/Mohawk River locks in this area, and perhaps it is like being a boat in line to enter a lock before continuing downriver. But I am trying to focus on the fact that the bigger channel is open, Her bigger Love is open, beautiful, and life-filled, however often I am momentarily delayed or put on hold. 

Leaves falling like rain

On this freakishly hot October day, the leaves are falling like rain from the trees. The crunchy sound hits the deck, almost like sleet or hail, only the skies are a brilliant, cloudless blue. It's strange how the tree and bush and grass colors are so very fall-like (and some of them, almost garishly so!) but the temperatures are all wrong. I haven't researched this, but it seems to me like they are falling from dryness, not frost, since we haven't officially had any frost.  And I'm hearing birds that sound springlike.

Yet in the middle of climate chaos, there have indeed been wonders. At the end of the window of opportunity, out in the country, I saw the comet (after days of close calls caused by jet trails) and it was a wonderful reminder of the vastness of space and our inability to control it.

After talking about wanting to say "yes" (or at least to stop saying "no"), I had a few days of bouncing around with too many "no's" and feeling out of my element. However, nature seems to be the antidote. When I see a hawk, a sunset, the stars, comets or meteor showers, then manmade irritants fade into oblivion. I also hear clearer "yeses" when I write in my handwritten journal. I'm still connected to my source, miraculously! Thank the Goddess!

Saying No in a Yes-based universe

I think it was in the Abraham-Hicks books and tapes that I was first exposed to the notion of a "yes-based universe", and almost immediately it resonated. I mean, I tried to put myself in the shoes of the creator of the universe (whether male, female, or beyond gender), and couldn't imagine wanting my creations to experience the pain of conflict, rejection, put-downs, "no"s of any kind. It made sense that creation was a positive form of action, not a negative one. As I've segued into focusing more on the feminine face of the divine, I've continued to see Her creativity as an expression of values that are positive to me -- peace, love, beauty, harmony, power within the whole (rather than individual power over). 

Something quite thought-provoking and bittersweet hit me yesterday. It is the extent to which almost my whole life, I've been saying "no". As a woman who was probably aligned with Goddess values from early on, I've said, "no, no, no" all my life. I pushed back against being told I couldn't sing the music I loved. I pushed back against trying to fit into our economic system. I pushed back against modern American life and the values of expansion, bigger is better, personal ownership, consumerism and thoughtless disposal, and the promotion of violence. In subtle and not-so-subtle ways, I have pushed back against people, places, and institutions. I sometimes feel like my system has been saying "no, no, no" almost all day, every day. I don't think of myself as a protester, but I've been protesting nonstop! If I have a confession to make, it is that. Until recently, I have consistently defined myself more by what I am not than by who I am. Even upon my return to the part of the country I grew up in, "no" is still with me. While I feel slightly less discomfort here, I don't actively see myself in the landscape around me. A continuing subtle "no" -- is it a surprise that I've never really had a home? 

If there has been a point to my continuing with this blog, it's been about trying to articulate what I say "yes" to. (My "Goddess Words" are one example, building blocks of a bigger "yes.") Indeed, I am trying to get beyond the whole duality of yes versus no...to try to sense what it would be like to live a "yes"-based life without any reference at all to the "no"s. Saying "no", just by the energy of passionate attention, is saying "yes", metaphysically. This is a pivotal moment. I must place my fullest attention on my genuine "yes"...this step has to come before finding a home.

Perhaps this isn't just a personal lesson. Perhaps this is the overarching lesson of this era. The things we are fighting are getting bigger and bigger and bigger, and more monstrous. The only way to get beyond it all, to survive into the future, is to sow the seeds of "yes" and start to nurture them. "Yes" to peace, love, beauty, harmony, community. My promise to myself today is to find one thing, no matter how small or large, to say an unconditional and enthusiastic "yes" to! 

More Signs

Since Tuesday, I have seen or experienced several more signs, evidence that there is a faint Goddess path emerging across this empty hallway. A trail of breadcrumbs, perhaps?!!

On Tuesday, I had occasion to go to what in Britain is called a "charity shop". After finding a nice blue top (I'm trying to add a few more blue and turquoise items to my limited wardrobe), I went to the bookshelf. Almost immediately, two books leapt out to me: 365 Goddess by Patricia Telesco, and a book about a period of English history that I am particularly interested in. I mean, almost immediately, I realized that walking into this store was no accident, and finding these books was no accident. This was the oracle of the bookshelf at work, titles immediately drawing you in because they represent your passions. My eyes literally didn't -- couldn't -- see most of the other books. Then yesterday, I met two women who seem to share at least some of my interests, and while I don't know if I will ever see them again, at least I felt slightly validated, slightly more visible.

Looking out at the world from this area of the northeast is more painful than it tended to be in Duluth. Lake Superior's vastness always seemed to slightly dilute the news, to water down the world's horrors. I never quite lost that sense of being in Brigadoon, a civilization in the mist. Here, the centers of power are close. Not a stone's throw away, but close enough. Yet just as there were books on the bookshelf that my eyes literally didn't see, I find I cannot even "see"/comprehend the escalating war, the nastiness of the political scene, any form of violence or conflict. This is not about being Pollyanna, or refusing to see what is really happening. At least for me, it is more a case of these things not computing because my personal energy is too different. It's as if I have moved to a new post-duality country, and been here long enough that I barely speak my language-of-origin. I now live and dream in the new language, and the old one is -- ahem -- fading into the mist. 

This morning, speaking of mists, a beautiful sight greeted me at 6 AM. The full moon was starting to set over nearby water, and through a veil of light fog, a bright path of reflected sparkles in the waves led directly up to the light. Another sign.

Three Signs

The first thing I did this morning was to pick a card called "Vulnerability". You might say that it was the first "sign" of the day. It was all about not being afraid to be quietly out in the open, completely yourself, and having no fear of others' reactions to that self. I needed that reminder. Returning to one's old territory without sliding backwards into one's old self is quite a challenge. I am teetering a little on that edge, after just over two weeks back east.

The second sign I experienced this morning was to look out the window and see an eagle in the sky. Eagle was the totem animal I picked over 30 years ago when I was at Pendle Hill, the Quaker study center, and on and off through the years eagles have flown overhead at significant moments. I feel a lot of gratitude that they are no longer as endangered as they were...for me, they symbolize magnificence, the majestic, and the bigger picture.

I had hoped that by today, lightning would have struck, and the "perfect" forward path would present itself! And yet the only point of clarity that has emerged is small...I think it is highly unlikely that I will return to Minnesota to live. Since leaving, I've kept that door ajar, thinking it would be easier to go back through it than to face the unknown. But as overwhelmed as I feel, I just don't see "life" back there, for me. So it is like having entered a long hallway, and closed the door you came through, and knowing the only way forward is forward...and yet at first glance, not seeing doors on the other side of the hall that look open either. It's terrifying...will I be stuck in this neither-here-nor-there hallway for long? Do people know that I'm here? Yet the most important "person" of all knows exactly where I am, and which door I will be going through -- the Goddess. Really, after all this time, if I didn't believe that, I'd be seriously up a creek.

The third of the three signs actually came last night, or "first". I spoke back in April about how "Beryl" had been with me for several years as the name of my higher self/ancestress -- or perhaps even like the modern notion of an avatar. I continue to think of myself, when I am at my most articulate, as speaking with "The Voice of Beryl". I just remembered that last night, when I was working on a crossword, the clue was "emerald or aquamarine", and of course, the minute I saw it had five letters, I knew it was Beryl. And it was smack in the middle of the puzzle to boot.

So, I guess these three signs tie together quite neatly. I'm being asked to continue to speak ever more honestly, with the voice of my highest self. I need to continue to have the courage to do that, even when it (and my whole life process) leaves me feeling awkward, vulnerable, and alone. And I need to soar like an eagle, to try to see the biggest possible picture from above. Somewhere recently, I saw a reference to the "oracle" of normal life...and life is full of roadsigns, if we pay attention. Engaging this way with life is giving me some much-needed courage.

Nine Hundredth

This is my nine hundredth post, coming toward the end of my ninth year of writing. I have to laugh -- I remember early on talking about transition, and about having been in transition almost constantly, and here I am such a long time later -- in transition. I don't like the word "deadline", but I am promising myself that by the end of this long weekend, I will have some idea of how to proceed (perhaps I will call it a "lifeline"!) I don't miss the city of Duluth itself. I do miss my friends, and the relative ease of travel by city bus. As tired of that mode of travel as I am, I realize that travel by city bus around the Capital District area would be far harder -- and (of course) in any part of small-town America, you must own or have access to a car. I've had a few wake-up calls in terms of not quickly and easily finding evidence of a "tribe" -- it doesn't look like the Goddess is big here after all. (An interesting thing is that it seems to be becoming a phenomenon in the U.K., and in the U.S., Portland, OR may be the place to be). Sure, if a windfall came my way, England would still be my goal (these days, more because of the Goddess than English church music), but I'm so dizzy from years of moving around that even that mightn't happen without an enormous amount of help. So I am praying for some timely guidance, what the Quakers call "clearness". I feel potentially more powerful here in the east, and potentially more visible, and somewhat more rooted to the land. And through some miracle, I'm still alive. So there's much to be grateful for, and to think about.

Of course, in the midst of it all, the world. Many years ago, I sensed that around now we would begin the transition to the New Paradigm. At the dawn of 2020, I wrote that this would be a decade of clarity, of "20-20 vision". But even I could not have anticipated how much COVID would change all our lives within months. Four years later, there is so much happening that is extremely shocking (I haven't spoken much of the war in the Middle East, in part because I simply cannot find the words). And there is greater and greater momentum of environmental change. The only consolation may be that these events are brilliant teachers. What has been hidden is being revealed. We are being forced to learn hard lessons, and to start letting go of assumptions. The fate of one little Aquarian mystic actually may not mean much in the bigger picture, although I keep writing because I continue to have the relative luxury of doing so, which many women around the world do not. 

In the end, my path has never really been about finding a "nice" place to live. While to some extent, I always assumed that I'd be happier in the UK, it wasn't about "nice" and "happy" and "happily ever after". It was -- and still is -- about feeling a divine calling, something I was already sensing as a child. It has been about reaching higher levels of beauty and spiritual understanding, a greater ability to contribute to society using my best gifts, and helping us all move beyond the torture of duality. In ways, as unsettled as my life has been, I think the Goddess has sent me on the perfect journey to achieve much of this! Being loved and in community with people I love would be ideal, although I've changed so much, my old contacts aren't as close a fit as they once were. 

What I would love this weekend would be for the Goddess to surprise me (!) I still have a hunch that there is something happening here that I cannot see, and once I see it, I'll know. May that be so! Send me, Great Mother, in the direction of love, and in the direction of the greatest service to you. 

Saying my piece(s)

Yesterday, I had a foray out into the horrors of a suburban retail wasteland...store after store after car dealership after motel after restaurant...you know the scene. I was not driving, and, having driven so little over the last half-a-dozen years, I'm not sure I could have managed it. Nothing in the experience made me wish to. Yes, the intensity of the development has changed in 50 years, but I remember taking the school bus from Schenectady to Albany Academy for Girls back then, already being turned off by the growing "strips" on both Albany-Schenectady Rd. and Troy Rd. Different signage, different building designs (although some holdout buildings from the 1950's and 60's remain), but same concept. "Come in. Spend your money. Visit our establishment, not the one next door." I didn't resonate with retail back then, and I still don't. But in those days, the biggest consideration may have been that I didn't find these strips "beautiful" -- I hadn't even (consciously) begun to walk down the road to the Goddess.

Driving around yesterday, I was aware that the landscape of western Florida is probably not too dissimilar to what was before my eyes, and I had that curious feeling of seeing the picture as it would be post-hurricane, or tornado, or earthquake. It's not active "wishing to see destruction", but simply, seeing these human constructs as not a product of love -- for people, wildlife, or the environment. So much building and construction has been done to pursue values that probably wouldn't exist in a Goddess-centered community. If I sometimes seem detached from the human element of what is happening, I'm really not. I feel the pain of human lives being totally upended -- but I also feel it before the storm, gazing out at intact malls and parking lots and medical centers that seem soul-destroying. The upending happens as soon as we place our focus on anything other than love, and our trust in anything fleeting.

There are so many things that will change in the wake of these storms...one I cannot help but wonder about is the concept of private property. What happens when, say, you "own" an acre of land, and it is washed away in a storm? I mean, if it literally no longer exists?

Last night I watched some hurricane coverage on television, and was awed anew by that phenomenon of the calm in the eye of the storm (yes, I was thankful for those split-screen shots!) In an interesting coincidence, a brief but violent storm came up locally, and sheets of horizontal rain were wailing at the front windows. It made the coverage very real.

Limbo

I was surprised to see that I have never yet used "limbo" as an essay title. Virtually my whole recent life has been a state of limbo, which has a number of interestingly intertwined definitions. Essentially, of course, a state of being where things are unresolved, unsettled, unclear. 

There are definitely ways in which returning to the east coast has been grounding. On a very superficial level, there is the fact that by and large, when hearing a place name, I know where the town (or mountain range, or lake) is (which never became the case in Northern Minnesota). One morning this weekend, I opened the deck door to smell my first whiff of an "autumn in New England/northeast" smell. It is an odor that I have never quite encountered anywhere else, and I guess is unique to the types of leaves on the ground, the level of moisture, and the specific air temperature. When I was at Smith, the chapel bells would ring on a beautiful early October day, signifying that it was "Mountain Day", a day off from classes when we were encouraged to get out and take a hike, or at the very least, take a day off from studying. Of course, in those days, only second semester seniors were allowed to have cars, so it was nearly impossible to get up into the mountains, although one year I seem to remember going with friends to climb one of the hills overlooking the Connecticut River. Anyway, that smell, the view of mountains in the distance, and the familiarity of landscape have "hit home", not in a nostalgic way really, just an acknowledgment that these things were my first autumn landscape of this lifetime. I suspect I have always been subtly disappointed with how this time of year manifests elsewhere.

And yes, I've now used real live local McIntosh apples twice to make what my mom called "apple crumble" (basically, the Joy of Cooking "apple crisp" recipe). Apples, brown sugar, flour, butter and cinnamon, with a squeeze of lemon or orange juice. Generally speaking, you cannot find fresh, local McIntosh apples outside the eastern U.S. and Canada.

Yet ten or eleven days into this trip, I haven't got any better clue of where I might find an eastern home base (temporary or permanent). Being out in a more rural area was both more inviting and more disturbing. Visually, not a whole lot has changed "in the countryside" since I was young. But on Sunday afternoon, when the landscape was at its most beautiful, and within a short time of seeing a hawk circling overhead, gunshots started to pierce the peace. This was, like, one shot every ten to twenty seconds for at least two hours! There must have been a shooting range nearby, but how unsettling it was for me cannot be overstated. And even on country roads, cars seem to drive by at exceptionally high speeds these days. It's jarring, nonsensical.

Finding a perfect home shouldn't be my goal -- the extent to which my mind ends up obsessing about that illustrates how easily one can be distracted from one's real goals, in my case, speaking for the Goddess. My home is in Her, so other experiences will flow from that. But I remind myself, she has no trouble speaking for herself (!) The next hurricane is testament to that! It will be so interesting to see when the tipping point will finally come, when people really start to grasp the power of Nature, and to understand the hubris of our traditional assumptions of human permanence, planning, and "power over". 

...and Shorter

Today, I have the opportunity to go further out into the countryside, away from cities. Somehow, with everything happening in the world, this seems like the only thing to do.

Will looking at the night stars bring answers and perspective? Will open fields and small forests bring a sense of spaciousness and belonging? Hard to know, but I feel fortunate and privileged to have a further change of pace. May we all have moments of clarity and calm this weekend, in the midst of it all!

A Short One

It's interesting. I didn't think I would be writing today, but a message kept nudging at me.

It is basically to say, we don't even begin to know or have the capacity to comprehend the magnitude of the Goddess's love for us, for all life on earth, for the planet itself. It is literally the size of the universe. As She struggles to bring Her earth body back into balance, we need to try to remember that life is eternal. Love is eternal. In the bigger picture, I do not "die", you do not "die", and life on this planet will not completely "die". It is being transformed, and will be a very different, more love-filled place, within only a few generations. If we can try to hold the hope of that within us, perhaps this period of time will feel slightly less traumatizing.

Intense Days

These have been intense days, on every level. 

Hurricane Helene has been unbelievably deadly and destructive. Those of us not in its path ought not turn our heads away, or feel any relief, because the next natural disaster could happen anywhere.

Having said that, I still find myself troubled by reporting of these events. Whether directly or indirectly, I hear an implication that Nature is at war with human endeavors...that the primary "disaster" is the destruction of homes, businesses, infrastructures, and lives. And yes, millions of lives have been turned upside down. But as someone who feels physical pain every time I see a bulldozer at work, and who is so distressed by plastic that I can barely spend more than ten minutes in any grocery store or pharmacy, I suggest, once again, that the disaster is working both ways. For hundreds, thousands, of years, we have not honored the needs of the natural world. We have not sensibly prioritized the health of the natural world. We have used and overused the natural world. We have, I guess, thought that we were "in charge", when in fact, Nature is in charge.

In my own mind, I find myself marveling that people aren't turning in droves towards honoring the Goddess, but then reality hits me in the face. I had hoped, while I'm back east for whatever period of time it should turn out to be, to speak to several groups (who know me) about my journey to the Goddess. So far, there has been no interest in that. I had been excited to see that there was a local Goddess-themed retail shop, and I couldn't wait to visit it and see if it might lead me to other kindred spirits. But when I showed up at the front door, it was locked and blocked -- clearly out-of-business. Ultimately, I know that I am a leader and that the time has come to magnetize -- not seek out -- friends and helpers. It's hard to feel like a powerful magnet when you keep moving and moving, but I have to believe something is happening here which I don't yet see clearly.

One last note about these intense days. It is my impression that since I was last in this area about six years ago, the amount of car and truck traffic has doubled, and that people's driving speed has almost doubled as well. As was the case in Northern Minnesota, the amount of new construction and development is noteworthy, almost overwhelming. There is a frenzy to it all that goes way beyond the desire to finish up by snowfall. Maybe we are subconsciously trying to build up new infrastructures in Place A to replace those lost to floods or fires in Places B or C...

In the midst of the intensity, a calm feeling comes over me when I look at it all through the eyes of the Goddess. She knows how all this will unfold. Higher dimensions of love and beauty will dot the new landscapes before our eyes...but rebirth is intense, and will continue to be.

 

A Few More Travel Notes

First of all, I write this conscious of the latest hurricane and its devastation to cities and communities. There is so much to say, but not today.

The first leg of the train journey, along the upper Mississippi River in Minnesota, was absolutely beautiful, although somewhat "confusing" -- the quality of the light was pure autumn, but the colors along the river spoke late summer. From my left side seat, I saw lots of birds, including herons, eagles and, of course, geese. When we turned east through Wisconsin, the most notable aspect of the landscape in many places was the quantity of raised huts and hunting blinds in the fields. 

Changing trains in Chicago went fine, and I sat on the right this time as we hurtled through the night. There's nothing that signifies "I'm heading into an unknown future" like speeding along the landscape of northern Indiana, Ohio, and Pennsylvania in the pitch dark, only occasionally seeing town, factory, and industrial park lights speed by to be replaced like darkness again. When dawn rose, we were in New York State, but perhaps one of the least appealing stretches of it. Industrial grey, further muted by grey skies and rain. But as we sped eastward through Rochester and Syracuse, and toward Schenectady, the landscape became more familiar and at least somewhat more rural. I can't say that it felt warm and fuzzy, but at least, not negative. I stepped off the train into Schenectady's brand new train station, which replaced the ugly 70's- era one, which had itself replaced the original. 

All in all, I'm still just barely acclimating, and have had moments of doubt about whether even taking this trip was right at this time. But late yesterday, I experienced an amazing "small world" coincidence, which tied me both to the Schenectady-Albany-Troy area as well as Lake Champlain, the kind of thing that would never happen in Minnesota. (If nothing else, the train journey reminded me of how far from "home" Duluth has been!) So as I tiptoe forward, I'll just have to see if these deep roots will hold, and whether I find the right venues not only for living, but also for speaking about the Goddess. It's lot to expect, but I'm hopeful. 

There and Here

Well, I have made it somewhere new -- but very old -- my hometown of Schenectady, New York.

There. The place I couldn't wait to leave. Who would want to live in the Capital District when your real "home" is the choir stalls at King's College, Cambridge, Westminster Abbey, etc.? This scrappy old GE town on the Mohawk River is a place I've criss-crossed through the years, even left storage here, but couldn't really imagine living in again. And then when my Dad died six years ago, his shadow loomed too large over everything in the New York City/Schenectady/Champlain Valley axis. These places were about him. His choices and preferences, not mine. Thus, in part, the return to Duluth a few years ago.

Then, earlier this year, as regular readers might remember, I basically forgave Schenectady. I mean, the city was not responsible for anything negative about my life. There was nothing "wrong" with the city and in certain respects, there was a perfection to it and the Capital District -- especially as it exposed me (in several local Episcopal churches) to the English men and boys' choir tradition. This would probably not have happened in most parts of the United States.

At some point this summer, I realized that not only did I have a "deadline" to move, but I was actually feeling that my time in Duluth was drawing to a close. Not seeing beyond that deadline, I was terrified, and I felt like I was dying. It was only by following several intuitive leads that the path continued to unfold -- and has brought me safely to Square One, only many points higher or further on the spiral. Being able to keep blogging about the hard process also kept me going. Thank you, readers, for being there.

Tonight, I'm scheduled to attend a play at the theater that used to be the Schenectady Light Opera Company -- the very place that my parents met! They were both volunteering behind the scenes (ticket-taking, scenery) at a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta. It seems strangely fitting! Talk about Square One! For the first time in 50 years, I seem to be able to accept non-judgmentally that I am here, I never made it to England permanently, and it's OK. I'm OK, and I am still alive. I don't know where the autumn leaves are (the landscape travelled these last few days was shockingly green!) and there are many other changes. But for the moment, "there" has become "here". Here. I am Here.

I'll tell a few more stories about my travels early next week.

Sagas

Tomorrow, I leave on the first leg of this new adventure -- whether it turns out to be a short "trip" or a whole new chapter remains to be seen. Either way, I sense it will be life-changing, although I have to confess that I would give almost anything right now to be so settled that I wouldn't want to leave. Age (and at least partially releasing England as a goal) is taking its toll. So this would be a good day to remind myself why my life has been what it has been, and to try to emulate the Goddess by being compassionate with myself and others every step of the way.

Over the weekend, I spent a lot of time organizing and re-organizing my roller bag and tote bag. My arms and shoulders aren't as strong as they used to be, so every tiny "weight" came under scrutiny. Take, for example, my old-fashioned physical address book. It is small, around 4 inches x 6 inches, and it was originally about 3/4 inch thick. But over the years, I've stuck so many things between the front covers -- scraps of paper, business cards, plates of "forever" stamps, lists of Christmas cards sent and received, etc. etc. etc. -- that its binding is almost completely undone and it's about three times its intended thickness. A few years ago, I bought a replacement address book with the intention of starting over, but it didn't "take".

So I did a ruthless purge of these little scraps of paper, and it is lighter now!

Among them, however, was a keeper. It is a quote from Philippa Gregory's The Lady of the Rivers, about the water spirit Melusina: "She is a being not of this world...she tried to live like an ordinary woman, but some women cannot live an ordinary life. She tried to walk in the common ways, but some women cannot put their feet to that path. This is a man's world...and some women cannot march to the beat of a man's drum..." I guess six or seven years ago when I read this book, I knew that for all intents and purposes this should be my epitaph, and I dare say it still will be when the moment comes.

Triple-folded, that scrap of paper is back in the front of the address book and is coming with me.

Writing this, early in the morning, I'm mulling over the notion of sagas. Most of us were trained to think that only certain lives were extraordinary -- Gods and Goddesses of Greek myth, for instance, or the great leaders, explorers and soldiers of history (mostly male). And yet every woman, the moment she wakes up in the morning, is the heroine of her own saga: whether she is fleeing war and oppression, or getting on the city bus with three children and a stroller, and needs to break down the stroller and stow it before the bus driver will start the bus again. Whether she is in the boardroom of a major corporation (a female "master of the universe"), or taking off in the car to do the familiar suburban round of errands. Whether she is caring for a loved one, or sitting dazed on the sidewalk, at the end of her rope. Or whether she's living the greatest saga of all, aging. (Whatever your day is about today, you are the saga's extraordinary heroine!) The Goddess embraces all of our sagas, and with Her there are no hierarchies or degrees of importance. One of the beautiful aspects of our current time is that more of us have outlets for telling our unique stories, online, through the arts and writing, or on stage.

I'm not sure how much wi-fi access I'll have going forward, so just know that I will check in again as soon as I can, with the next chapter of my particular saga. Thanks, as ever, for your readership, and I send love and blessings, friends!

This and That

 

The last few days have been rich, meeting with friends. Uncharacteristically, I had breakfast out two days in a row, pancakes. In the first case, it was, actually, one pancake, about the size of a dinner plate and about an inch thick. On day two at a different restaurant, two traditional-sized pancakes, and more to my liking. (I know I rarely foray into talking about food, but I seem to have entered a new "zone" so don't assume anything!)

And a delight to see my friends, visit a few special spots like the Rose Garden, and to remind myself that either I won't be seeing them again for a while, or potentially forever. It is hard -- all my moves and transitions have been. I try to be nonchalant, but I'm not.  Yet everyone knows me pretty well, in the sense that there were a few jokes about seeing me soon (!) And truly, I don't know what I will learn over the next few weeks, and what direction it will send me. All I know is that I crave a community/presence of at least a few people who are Goddess-centered...not in terms of ritual or studying historical Goddess figures, but literally in terms of trying to live out being "a Goddess" in these remarkable times. 

As of this moment, I won't miss Duluth, the city, although the location on Lake Superior will remain in my system forever. Depending on how it all turns out, I may well miss its relative convenience...easy-ish access to much of the city by bus. But I have several times recently resonated with the word "completion", and that's how it feels. I had not really completed my Duluth phase back in 1999, when I hurriedly went back east to help care for my mom when she was dying. When I returned here in 2018, I think I moved through the completion process pretty quickly, but COVID changed everything, as it did for everyone. I am thankful for my relative safety during that time, and the three years since, when I was able to really re-birth.

So, for the next few days, I will go through the "thises and thats" of my belongings (one consequence of this way of life is regularly giving away many things that are too heavy to carry!) When I get depressed about going through this again, I remind myself that millions of people around the world are doing the same thing as I speak  -- if their possessions have not been burned or flooded out or blown away in the wind. I don't own much, but I'm privileged to own a few treasured items, and I hope I can continue to hang onto them.

Starting next Tuesday, I'm not sure what my computer access will be, but I hope to check in once more before then. Until then, a blessed fall equinox to you, and enjoy the beautiful late afternoon light. 

Miscellaneous Musings

Of all the "liminal" times I have experienced in this journey, not one has been more completely betwixt-and-between as this one. Something that makes it more poignant -- specific to this moment in time -- is the spell of hot weather we are having. Northern Minnesota is rarely anywhere near this hot -- high 70's and low eighties -- in September. Actually, the most surprising piece of it all is nighttime temperatures in the 60's. Trying to run around, organizing, plus seeing friends and doing a handful of "old time's sake" things (like see the Rose Garden), when it feels like summer, is both easier and creepier. It reminds me that the enormous changes I am going through personally are only the tip of the iceberg of what we are all experiencing, or soon to experience.

On Saturday, I attended a library book sale to see if I could find a few books for my train trip next week. At these moments, I am shockingly book uninspired. There were none of my favorite romance novels, so I went to Plan B: Anne Perry mysteries, set in Victorian London. And I found a few of these for the road. Clearly, Britain is my true home, and these books -- as everything else -- reflect that. Did I mention that I finally have a theory as to why (at least to date) I never figured out how to move there permanently? I would have been too happy, too contented, too delightfully satiated with choral evensong services and the beauties of the country. Probably I would never have become cranky, homeless and frustrated enough to develop more as a feminist -- and I wouldn't have started leaning as thoroughly toward the Goddess. My hunch is that my agreement on the divine plane was to learn whatever I needed to learn and experience whatever I needed to experience in order to arrive at a moment where my entire soul was aligned with Her. If I ever get back to Great Britain in that context, it may finally work...but there will have to be some person or institution on the other side reaching out to pull me over. I picture a welcoming hand across the water...

But I hope I won't ever again "try" to make that happen, try to "push the river", or put that particular sense of "home" ahead of speaking for the Goddess. As I shift gears and landscapes in coming weeks, it isn't about my comfort or security, going home, or just "trying something new", but about intuiting where the most promising opening to my future lies.

Speaking of speaking for the Goddess: what would She say to those of us enjoying unnaturally temperate autumn weather? Probably, "yes, dears, enjoy it, but remember why it is happening. It is happening because something is very out of sync."

A Hissy Fit

OK, so two nights ago, in my handwritten journal, I basically had a hissy fit. Addressing God/Goddess/Universe/Source, I basically said, OK, I've had it. I'm exhausted. I cannot move forward without some clarity, some sense of enthusiasm, and I want it NOW, within 24 hours. I slammed the notebook shut.

And within 24 hours, I had made a decision. It's a pretty open-ended decision, but it involves some train travel. I realized that for about three years, I haven't left Duluth-Superior except to go (once or twice) a half hour up the shore to Two Harbors. If absolutely nothing else, I need to get a fresh perspective on life, to watch landscapes roll by the window.

As transitions go, this one has been a humdinger. Yet every transition I have ever made has pushed me forward spiritually, and I hope this one will too. I'm not quite sure when I'll be able to come to the library over the next week or so, but I'll check in when I can. Thanks for following this saga!

Intertwining Themes

Today, there are two intertwining themes.

I've read that it is common -- at certain stages of a spiritual journey -- for a mystic's indispensable connection to the Divine to just drop out of sight. That this can be most likely to happen at a critical juncture like the one I am at now. And if this is what is happening, I am here to tell you that it is a wretched, wretched feeling. When your whole life lens is spiritual, suddenly being unable to access your spiritual center puts all other losses and abandonments in the shade. I don't quite believe that the Goddess or my guides have left me completely -- they are "there" somewhere -- but I would give anything right now to feel the breath of the Divine, and to "hear" Her clear, unambiguous instructions. 

The second theme is "applying". All my life, I have been "applying myself". For decades, I applied to be loved by my family. I applied and applied to be accepted into the world of English church music. I've applied for schools and jobs, auditioned for choirs, applied for apartments and living situations, tried to gain the acceptance that might lead to permanent housing. Perhaps even this blog could be said to be me applying for recognition or even acclaim. I've tried to prove that I write well enough, get good enough grades, sing and sightread well enough, am smart enough, wise enough, helpful enough, a quick enough learner, and good enough at housekeeping or helping sick people. At times, I have had to prove that I'm poor enough, or a good enough artist or teacher. I've tried all my life to meet the "conditions" set for me from without, and I'm just exhausted by this process. 

Somewhere within me, I know that the only world worth being in is a world of unconditional love and acceptance, and this is where today's themes intertwine. To go further on this journey, I must feel the Divine presence more clearly and return to the certainty that Her love isn't conditional in any way. Her loving, supportive energies will surely break through lingering layers of fear at the best possible moment...and, for once, I cannot micromanage when that moment is!