In the Night

It's probably not surprising that I woke up in the night -- well, early this morning -- and was up for a few hours before falling back to sleep.

The first thing I noticed was hearing low-flying geese heading, yup, south. A bit of a shiver ran down my spine.

I decided to get up and look out the window, and was flabbergasted to see a sky full of stars! I recognized Orion's Belt, and I am sure the "Dippers" must have been up there too, only trees were in the way. But this has to have been the first time in five or six years I have clearly seen stars, because most of the time I have been too close to the center of the city and its nighttime streetlights and neon business signs. To be reminded of a vast Universe was timely, to say the least!

Lastly, a little thought wove its way into my current tapestry of curiosity, fear, fatigue and hope. And that is, as terrifying as all this is, I might be one of the freest women on the planet. The very conditions that have left me feeling so "out there" -- no home or car (with all the attendant bills, debts, and responsibilities), no husband or partner, no children or grandchildren, no family money, no career, no business to run -- are an awesome yet overwhelming blank slate. Over seven decades, I have had far less male supervision/care/interaction/control than many women. An emotionally distant father, all-girl's and -women's schools, mostly female bosses, job superiors and roommates. (The interesting exception? Male organ teachers, master's advisor, and choral conductors.) Each step over the years was taking me closer and closer to aligning with what I now interpret to be "Goddess" energy -- yet that means that I have gotten further and further from our cultural norms, which, of course, really don't offer a "home" to the divine feminine. So, there we are. 

What gives me the courage to continue is knowing how unthinkable such a scenario might be in the experience of many women around the world. Impossible, really. Yet I believe with all my heart such female autonomy and agency will be hallmarks of the new paradigm. I didn't set out to be an accidental experiment (!) but I'll continue, a day at a time...

We all need a break! I plan to write again Tuesday! Take care, all.

Step One

Today, I took one step away from what has been a secure nest for three years. In a sense, it may have been the first secure nest I've had (for that stretch of time) for most of my life. To call it wrenching is such an understatement. And looking at the woebegone face of the house kitty cat was the worst.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry that the thing I'm perseverating about is that I slightly under-tipped my taxi driver, who even helped me with bags. Out here, I don't think everyone tips the drivers, and I always do, but I kind of choked up when the total fare was a little less than I had expected. To start out what may be a very uncertain journey being less than generous isn't the best "step one", but at least I realized it almost immediately. Now I need to let that one go, somehow!

My exhaustion is so intense, made worse by not quite knowing where this is all headed. And knowing that the words that I must start saying as a representative of the Goddess are going to be loving, truthful -- but sometimes very hard! Where are my kindred spirits? Where is shelter for this truth-speaker? Who will welcome this powerful energy? I guess the first step is that I have finally, finally embraced myself!

I've put my self-portrait collage in a prominent spot in this weekend nest, and hope that She -- my highest self -- will continue to inspire and protect. And may I remember that if I can somehow navigate all this disorientation now, perhaps I can help others get through it in the future. 

The Liminal Moment

This is the true liminal moment. The last full day in an old space. Half in, half out. Half in the past, half in the future. Feeling utterly exhausted and weepy, but also feeling strangely free and joyful. Something sure is happening. That may be all I am certain about!

It is a clarifying day, too. If I focus on the "old paradigm", I freak out. If I focus on the love, harmony, beauty and power of the "new paradigm", I breathe better and feel hopeful. It is time to better train myself to simply shift my focus as quickly as possible when I feel fear or grief overwhelming me, as it almost did again yesterday. 

Any of you going through a major change, I am -- literally -- with you. We can do this!

In Storage

Yesterday, I got my relatively small pile of boxes and tote bags into a small storage unit. (I paid to have them picked up and moved...from this moment forward, never again will that be the job of me or my 70-something friends!) That I was able to arrange and coordinate it all in about four days is a minor miracle, and I am immensely grateful. They are safe for now.

But this morning, I am thinking about storage, because looking back, since 1990 and my move away from New York City, I have had belongings in storage an inordinate amount of time. I have stored things with friends, in their basements or garages or barns. I swoon at the thought of what would have been the monetary value of these stretches of time, and realize that in each case it was nothing short of an act of incredible love. Somehow that is hitting me now in a way it never did before. I feel so thankful but know that may be completely inadequate.

There have been several other stretches of time when I have used commercial storage units, the pivot points to other big changes of direction. In the end, my life has been "in storage" (real or metaphorical) constantly, and if I had completely understood many decades ago that -- as my kind of mystic -- I was unlikely to ever function in a "normal" American way, I might never have allowed myself to accumulate anything.

Yet I am a creative being, one who derives comfort and a sense of beauty and warmth from some longstanding treasures, art objects and books. Because of having moved so often, I've needed to look on a new dresser top at familiar pictures or little mementos. Yes, I've weeded out once again, but I have kept the books I will need on hand when I speak for the Goddess, and some of the memorabilia of my unconventional journey. Over this coming month or so, I pray that I find a longer term home for these items and for me. Funny (?) how it's actually easier and cheaper to "place" boxes than it is to "place" a person!

Another aspect of a life like mine is having had to both gain and lose so many precious belongings. I accumulated the most after my mom died and my dad headed across country. I suddenly owned a wonderful old dresser, one of my grandmother's lamps, the other grandmother's desk, and my childhood dollhouse (actually, my mother's, dating from the 1930's). For a year or two, I had a wonderful tiny rental apartment with everything out on full display, and I felt complete, wanted, and part of the small community in which I lived. But suddenly that situation evaporated from without, the dresser went to another family member, and I sold the lamp and desk in a sidewalk sale. It took another year to finally sell the bulky wooden dollhouse and its amazing historical contents (old fashioned kitchen appliances, lamps, beds, and very lifelike dolls). The latter still haunts me. It's almost like a limb that was cut off and I still feel it. But it was absolutely too heavy to carry.

I guess I'm one of those people who would be a millionaire if our economy gifted experience, wisdom, creativity, and the other factors in my kind of unconventional life. I hold onto that, not out of bitterness, but just knowing deeply (most days, recently!) that it has all been of value. And I am learning that when I can get my belongings -- and my deepest self -- out of storage and into the light, that is when I am most who I was meant to be.

My collage self-portrait

Just a quick Monday report. I'm finishing the process of getting things boxed for storage, and figuring out what will come with me temporarily. I had a short trip out of the city yesterday, which was definitely refreshing and boosted my spirits. Today, however, is extremely heavy and hot, threatening rain. Good for indoor focusing.

Among my things was a taped up poster-sized package that said "Collage". I couldn't for the life of me remember what it was, so I ripped the tape off and, wow. I had forgotten that five years ago or so, I made a really ornate collage self-portrait. I mean, the image doesn't exactly look like me, but she is me, if you know what I mean. Almost regal, a little aloof, but direct and present. On the bottom right side is imagery mostly of England and cathedrals, leading up into the sky. On the bottom left side are images of New York City and the American wilderness -- leading up into the sky. I have put "her" up to be with me as I pack, and I will take her uncovered with me until I find my realm in real life!

If I can ever figure out how to get a photo into this blog, I'll show it to you, but not this week! Too much else to think about. More soon.

So Interesting

It is so interesting. On Friday, as you know, I basically told the Universe that I could only go on if there was love in the picture (and may I add beauty after the fact?!)

By about one o'clock in the afternoon, I had taken steps to at least tide me and my things over until the end of September. Oh my goodness. I'm enormously grateful, and it's still a fragile thread as my life always is, but there was a key piece in place of drying dishes-Scrabble-raking leaves and that kind of connection.

More importantly, after weeks of literally looking into the future and seeing nothing shining bright, trying to get my attention, I had an "aha" about the longer-term future. This next few weeks, I will see if I fit into the picture that came up.

Goddess bless all of you who have stuck with this blog through thick and thin (I don't know which one this time represents!) ... tomorrow I won't be writing, but I probably will check in again Monday or Tuesday.

Goddess also bless my mom, Janet, whose 98th birthday would have been today. Although I haven't yet had any dreams about her, I would give anything to see her again! All these emotions popping up after so many decades...Take care, all!

It's all about Love

In the night, I woke up with an insight that's been percolating but finally became clear. This whole pickle (and I refuse to use the word crisis!) is not about getting a roof over my head, and soon. This whole pickle is about love. OK, perhaps this is what I've been on about for weeks, but seriously, I cannot move forward one inch if there is not at least a tiny iota of human love in the picture. My passions have generally been about music, art, spirituality, and place. Sometimes that love has been reciprocated, sometimes not. A "place" cannot love you quite the way a human can, and the same goes for works of art, or the experience of writing, or singing music. In this lifetime, maybe it was safer for me to stay at arm's length from human emotion because of how love hurt me early on. I've started to experience love in many of my living situations, for which I'm so thankful. But what's ahead of me at this moment looks completely like a wasteland -- in fact, completely unbearable -- unless I can find a situation where there is a small amount of mutuality and sharing. I may be becoming more of a contemplative mystic, but I do need people in my orbit who care, and who I care about being with. I need cleaning up dishes together and Scrabble games and raking leaves together and just knowing someone's next door or under the same roof. Looking forward, I just can't yet see active options with these qualities, which is scary, but perhaps I haven't quite known how to ask, or look.

Our culture takes things so literally. Recently, there have been lots of articles about how cities are desperate for new housing. ("The housing shortage.") The solution is, of course: building new apartments. When people are hungry, good folks try to find the way to provide meals. When people have too little income, services may be in place to help them earn more money. When people are sick, the medical profession tries to cure or heal. And none of these is wrong exactly, except that unless the solutions come from a place of love, I just wonder if they can ever work. An apartment is an apartment, but can it actively love you back?

It may not be fair to others that I am moving forward with a huge need for love. Yet I cannot be the only older person facing this issue, realizing that they have never really genuinely loved or been loved. I dearly hope that sometime in this lifetime, I experience what it is like to have someone look me straight in the eyes and say, "I love you, Liz, completely, unconditionally, no matter how rocky this earthly journey has been. You are perfect as you are and you deserve to be here." And you know what? I'll bet that every homeless, hungry, sick, addicted, unsuccessful person in this country needs those words more than any other solution. Especially at this moment, it is all about love.

Heart Emojis

As ever, yesterday's forward movement followed by another dip. Just trying to weather it.

But I also wanted to say that one of my saving graces has been a little string of heart emojis in my texts. When emojis first appeared on the scene, I thought them unbearably silly. But now, I use them from time to time, and think the heart ones oddly powerful. Do you think that in any real way, they are adding to the love in the world? I hope so!

More tomorrow. 

There's no place like Love

I've never written every day before, but it seems to me that this is such an important transition for me, one we are all in to a greater or lesser extent, that I must be as open as I can. Whether I gain or lose readers, or have none at all, is rather immaterial. In a sense, I am writing my way into my future, and if you can bear it, dear friends, read on!

Yesterday I had a sense that the energies would shift by the end of the day, and they did in a rather unexpected way. Not "solutions" with a big "S", but something to begin to shift what has been blocked in me.

In the mail, I received the gift of a book, one that has a small section about the life of and pioneering legal role played by my Canadian grandmother Winnifred. A friend was with me as I opened the package, and she said, in effect, have you thought of asking your grandmother how to proceed?

So this morning, in my hand-written journal, I started to do that. I wrote three or four pages, for an hour, "channelling" (if you will) the words that came to me from Winnifred. I think it is one of those things that even for me, trying to access the heart of the Divine, or the Goddess, can be daunting. In some of my writing, I must have regularly done it to a greater or lesser extent, but the physical part of being human doesn't always compute! Winnifred, however, is my flesh and blood, my father's mother. A brilliant earthly genius and pioneer in her own right, she has been on the spirit plane since before my birth in 1956. It's like, the perfect person to connect with right now. I think I'll be doing this writing indefinitely, and for the moment I'll leave it at that. But never have I experienced a closer, more immediate circle of wisdom -- Goddess, me, friend, grandmother, and Goddess again -- and encompassing it all, the larger heart of the Divine. This is my "hug", my (Love), and my cheering section, to go back a few posts! My inner circle, at least today. I can't even begin to describe my gratitude. It's overwhelming.

That's all for today, except one more word about "home". I just keep thinking that because of climate chaos, war and other factors, very few people today can return home to where they literally came from. And this will become ever more true. There is an initial sense of desolation at the realization -- the "home" has been torn down, the people are gone, the property has washed away or burned up, or been bombed or is housing a skyscraper. One can certainly no longer be successfully defined by where one is from, or easily return to the actual place as might have been true in earlier generations. So "home" for all of us may have to take on a new, metaphorical meaning. When we are caught between realities, when we are on the border or racing from the fires or swimming for shore, head towards love. Maybe the new phrase will be, "There's no place like love."

 

Where I Come From -- II

In the midst of all the other tears I've been crying, it has been hard not to enter "I want to go home" mode. To be like Dorothy, clicking her heels and saying, "There's No Place Like Home". Of course, she's right, there is no place like home, and fortunately for her, she had concerned family and friends, and a still-intact structure at the other end, to which the energy of her words whisked her. When I get into this mode, what I picture is our family's longtime summer "camp" (cabin) on Lake Champlain and the sound of the screen door slamming as we kids ran barefoot down to the beach. But this cabin was sold almost 30 years ago, and demolished not long after that by new owners, who built a larger structure. While it is not a phantom memory, it is a phantom reality.

What is interesting, though, is how when you are sorting through papers, you find the darnedest things, in this case, a print-out of my blog post of July 23, 2019. It's a reminder that where I am "from" -- my "home" -- is less concrete, a reminder to try to look at the bigger spiritual picture. Here is the core paragraph:

I would like to think I come from Love. I would like to think I come from Truth. I would like to think I come from Harmony and Music. I would like to think I come from Beauty. I would like to think I come from Art. I would like to think I come from Good. I would like to think I come from Empathy and Generosity. I would like to think I come from Joy. I would like to think I come from Expansion and Spiritual Growth. I would like to think I come from Vision. I would like to think I come from Perfect Self-Expression. I would like to think I come from Wisdom. I would like to think I am as good a representative as I can be of the Divine Feminine.

Looking at where I am from, from this perspective, I know without a shadow of a doubt that in a more Goddess-centered culture, I would have found a modest permanent home decades ago. Wise women, in a world with that orientation, would be honored and cared for (not necessarily "saved", though!) Whether we will reach that point in my current lifetime, it's hard to say.

I've probably said this before; people often say to me, "You must love moving, the gypsy lifestyle!" And the fact is, I totally don't. I am so thankful to my situation these last three years where I finally got to feel a sense of stability, to see how I flourish and become more of who I really am! I am essentially an anchoress, a hermit, someone who needs to be rooted in place, with only occasional forays out into the world (hopefully, in the near future, to speak with individuals or groups). For years, given my inability to satisfactorily engage in our work system, moving around was just a slightly better option than low-income housing high-rises. I needed to be closer to the ground, and to feel, even temporarily, a sense of hominess and shared purpose with friends. Right this minute, though, I realize that my wandering days are over. I simply cannot do it any more. I know that my higher self must surely know where my forever home is to be! Today may I step away from my chattering, fear-filled side and let the Goddess hold up her brilliant torch and guide me. On this Aquarius full moon, this Aquarian mystic is grateful for new lessons in allowing and following.

(Love)

I'm not sure why love is in parentheses, except that it reminds me of arms holding love tight, and I need to imagine that right now.

It wasn't my intention to make this a blog about the oracle cards I choose in the morning, but recently the cards I pick are so "a propos", it helps to refer to them. Today I chose from my "Shapeshifter Tarot" (most of my decks and books are packed, except for two or three. This one, by Conway and Knight, is one of my old favorites.) And darned if I didn't pick The Seer (traditionally, The Hermit).

Their first sentence is completely apt, words to the effect that not many people would ever want to take the seer's path. And that is for sure. Right this minute, I'm not sure even I want to do it, although this seems to be what I am, what I was born to be, and, at 68, all I can be. But it is true -- being so hard-wired into the divine when you're a human being like everyone else is wrenching, but no more so than late in life. Plus, being a woman mystic in a patriarchal world...I quite literally long for a hermitage, where I can sleep, eat simply, write this blog, think about/explore the divine feminine -- and, yes, prepare for a little party when others come along! It seems like it should be a relatively easy thing to find, except that I'm so exhausted at this point by too many life moves, that I literally need a magic carpet. I talked about magic the other day, and the timing was right!

I'm also finally understanding how hard my journey has been on my friends. It must have been challenging, watching someone you care for consistently act the opposite of the norm. And it's been hard on me, bushwhacking through the forest, never seeing a model of how to be a mystic. I would give anything right now to speak with an older, wiser mystic, just kind of, how did you get through all these practical hurdles? How did you survive? I finally know who I am, and whenever possible moving forward I want to be in more of a teacher or contemplative mode. But where on the planet do I need to be, and who can tolerate this intense energy? I may be becoming a hermit, but I don't want to be completely alone. Yes, I still want to love, be loosely part of a loving community. That's all for today.

(Love)

Strength

The roller coaster continues. After a hard day or two, two days ago, I managed to pull myself up into a place of curiosity, which was indeed a step up. But by Friday, I woke up almost incapable of functioning. What seemed to have triggered it, amidst uncertainty on the horizon, was the notion of safety. I don't think I ever felt safe in my childhood home, but I learned to so thoroughly internalize fear, that subsequent ways that my path (and the world outside it) has felt unsafe have been similarly swept under the rug. Suddenly, whether I end up in a stately home or on the street, I felt overwhelmed by fears for my safety. The fact that I have done everything "wrong" by old paradigm standards doesn't help. It feels as if this is the moment when I could pay the price, and be swallowed up in a black hole of material neediness, never to be seen again.

I sometimes talk about having cried, but last night, I really, really cried. Pathetic, gurgling, childish cries. I have no memories of ever being held by my mother (although she must have held me when I was a "babe in arms"), but that's what I wanted -- a mother's arms to hold me and tell me it is all going to be all right. The resident kitty cat came in and looked at me with concern and tenderness, and truly, that was a lifesaver. 

In the midst of all this emotion, and a certain amount of numbness, my brain, as ever, kept working. I thought about the fact that this transition will be different from all the others of the last two or three decades for one simple reason. Other moves were ways of pulling together the learning experiences I needed to become more aligned with the Goddess. I was still the student, running from school to school to gain knowledge. Now, though, the energy has shifted. I guess I've "graduated" (!) and am ready to become, myself, the teacher. I'm so thankful for all my temporary homes of these last thirty years, and the dear friends and acquaintances who provided them. (My last post may not have been entirely clear on that point!) But I understand that there is some level on which I've become too powerful to simply look for housing. While I may not yet draw to me all the help I've been talking about, at least I need to be very honest with people about the journey I've been on, and where it has brought me. I'm bigger than I ever was. I take up more space. I have more that I want to say.

So, this morning, still shaky as heck, I set this intention: to start to feel the passion that will propel me forward in the right direction. On this new floor of the building, the old passions (choral evensong, music of Howells, etc., per se) just aren't vibrating quite the same way, and I haven't been feeling much passion of any kind. When I picked a card from the Motherpeace deck, it was: "Strength". I laughed a little ironically, feeling anything but strong. But this deck's image of a priestess surrounded by animal helpers, under a full moon, started to bring me back into alignment. Vicki Noble speaks in the book about this card representing "matriarchal consciousness", and concludes saying that the Goddess is embracing us. This little girl from Schenectady who barely knows what it is to be held, or (having not had children) to hold, needs to somehow trust that I am being "held" on the spirit plane, that the full moon will bring light to a path that still seems invisible, and that helpers of all kinds will smooth the way forward towards my new teaching role. 

I'm Curious

I guess it is safe to say that the topic of this blog has always been "my path", with all its twists and turns. But I feel a bit of urgency in a slightly more focused aim now. Since roughly my birthday, I have been in a phase of my life that I can only describe as being somewhat like getting in an elevator and rising up at least two floors -- spiritually. It's complete (I almost literally cannot see the previous floors of the building!) and it is scary. If there are any written instructions for such rapid spiritual growth, I haven't found them. So I feel a responsibility to try to express the experience in words because if my theory is right, there are numerous people around the world going through similar processes, and it might help to hear from one's peers.

Having "arrived" at the place of the Goddess, I suddenly feel like our current paradigm is years in the past. All our constructs, institutions and processes feel really, really dated. It's like I am looking back and going, isn't that quaint, that's how things used to be done! Old friends and old places feel like they are beyond a veil. I've walked through the new portal, and I can look back through the door, but not go back, certainly not as the same person I was.

Physically, this process is completely wrenching. I had an appointment with a healer yesterday, and today, every single aspect of my body feels like it is being turned upside down. Virtually every organ and bone and inner system seems to be "talking" to me (perhaps as if to say, why didn't you warn us?! I feel bad about that, but I just didn't know.) On a day when most normal people would be running around like chickens with their heads chopped off, there is so much to do to create an "action  plan", all I have energy for is to fulfill my weekly cookie project and this blog. Afterwards, I may have to literally sleep the rest of the day. I am utterly, utterly exhausted!

And in terms of my upcoming move, I still know very little more than this, which came to me today (and for a woman from a highly narcissistic background, this is so hard to even say!): I will be living where I am a center of attention. I am a hub around which activities turn, and people will spend parts of each day helping me get my writing and speaking out there, or with practical chores. They will derive satisfaction from helping to better articulate the values of the Goddess in the world. We'll be facets of Her essence, working together -- but my presence will be important somehow, even indispensable, in a way I've never experienced. I'm so grateful for all my past living situations, but in the end, I had to hide Liz to a greater or lesser extent. Now, she's not hiding anymore.

Of course, coming from the paradigm we live in, this seems almost crazy. It wants to define me by my low income, or whether or not I had a genuine career, or ever got married and had children, or "where we can slot her in so she won't be any trouble to anyone". Some of my old inner voices have come up the elevator with me, and are highly skeptical!

Yet, my despair and fear are starting to dissipate. I'm curious. How will I get from where I am to a beautiful home, largely dedicated to these new paradigm values and people? When it's tempting to say, no one will help me, I gently insert the slightly more positive phrasing -- "I'm curious to see who I'll meet in this process! I am curious to see what new home is awaiting me!" "I'm curious to feel how lovely it would feel to receive enthusiastic assistance, and encouraging words". "I'm curious what a new paradigm, completely post-conflict community would look like and operate like." And it's no lie. I am curious!

Goddess Words 31: Magic

There are six or eight words on my old Goddess list that I've been avoiding addressing here these last few years. And yet, today I feel led to "tackle" magic! And as ever, I'm presenting my personal slant on words and concepts that seem Goddess-related.

The definitions I see in dictionaries and online mostly involve either people calling on "supernatural forces" to create certain outside outcomes, or magicians who have the capacity of achieving remarkable feats, for entertainment sake: pulling doves out of hats, coins out of empty palms, etc. Certainly, growing up in the culture I did, I was occasionally warned not to engage in "magical thinking"; anything outside the norm of working hard in a left-brain, logical, step-by-step way to achieve success was considered suspect. And yet a lot of the "New Age" thinking in recent decades promoted the idea that you could focus your thoughts and become rich. I am probably not the only person who, not having achieved success the old fashioned way, turned to the new way of thinking. Yet that, in the end, didn't work for me either! I think in its own way, it was as duality-driven as the old model.

Here's where I "am" about magic right now. I think the world is covered by an intricate webbing of love. This love is omnipresent and has always existed, the only real creative or sustaining power that exists. However, fear-based models made inroads over the centuries, and most of us were trained to operate in that hard way.

My thought is that when a person is able to be in a sincere, loving place for even a few minutes, it gives the love web around them time to bring more bright, beautiful and loving things their way. The longer we remain in this "place" of love, the more we attract yet more positive things, perhaps even things that to old eyes seem "magical" or miraculous.

This is the story from my own life that I always think of when I think of magic or miracles. About twelve years ago, I managed to get to England, primarily for the goal of doing research about composer Herbert Howells for an eventual article. That I had made it there despite a really rickety life situation was miraculous enough. But an event happened in Howells's home town of Lydney, Gloucestershire that really was magical, because in true "me" form, I had not made any advance arrangements.

I had found Howells's home (at that time, a retail shop), and discovered the small church (only several houses down from there) that the family attended, and where Herbert first took up playing the organ. It was a chilly spring day, and I stood outside the white church with steep cement steps, dearly wanting to go in and see the place with my own eyes. I wondered whether I should try the front door, or whether it would be necessary to call the pastor. 

Suddenly, a lovely, tremulous old lady's voice behind me said, "Can I help you dear?" I turned around, and here was a woman, likely in her 80's, dressed in a white raincoat. I explained that I was a fan of Herbert Howells, writing about him, and I was hoping to see the church. "Just follow me," she said. "We are having a Lenten luncheon, and I had to run down to the shops to get some more rolls! Join us for lunch!"

So I followed her to the side door, and we entered a spacious kitchen where a big table was set up and maybe a dozen people were eating a light meal of soup, rolls and cheese. The lady introduced me to all of them, and set some food in front of me, and what ensued was a lively discussion of life in Lydney at the turn of the twentieth century, what the church and town would have been like when Howells was a boy, and ways in which life there has changed. After lunch, they let me wander in the church itself (I think the correct usage in England would be "chapel", as this was not a Church of England congregation.) I saw where the organ was, not original of course, but at least in the spot young Herbert would have played. And in the end, one of the women offered to walk me over to the C of E church where Howells eventually attended and played the organ, and she introduced me to the current rector, who, himself, gave me a tour of that church!

Not once that morning did I call on "supernatural powers" to achieve this outcome. I didn't wave a wand, or cast a spell, or even do any creative visualization. But I was almost oozing with love and happiness as I stood on that English street, and was defined by about 50 years of adoring the music of Herbert Howells. The Universe knew almost better than I did what would be the most wonderful outcome of my short trip to Lydney, and figured out the timing and the right people, creating, literally, something magical.

Love is the way the Goddess works, and how She creates magic and miracles. Even in these perilous times (especially!), these brilliant outcomes will abound. But I think the key is trying to stay in the place of love, not attempting to manifest a certain outcome. "They" (spiritual authors) always say that, but it's hard to do, isn't it?!

The biggest misconception

In the midst of all this intensive inner personal growth and revelation, it hasn't been possible to avoid the human transformation and turmoil manifesting out in the world. At times it has even been grimly amusing.

Yesterday, somewhere in the media I saw or heard another iteration of a phrase that continues to drive me crazy: "the fight against global climate change".

So, I am no doubt repeating myself, but here we go again.

Anything we fight gets bigger. The "problems" we fight will always get worse, not better. The biggest misconception in the world (and perhaps the most tragically ineffective one) is the belief that if you fight something you don't like, and you win, all will be well. There will be a happy ending. I truly believe this isn't ever true! Entering into the fight simply adds more energy to -- of course -- the fight, and gives the so-called "other side" more to push back against.

In terms of climate change, I try to put myself into the shoes of the Goddess/Mother Nature. Is She (in all Her myriad manifestations in and around us, underfoot, in the air we breathe, in the water we drink, in the stars in the sky...) pleased that we finally decided to fight global warming? Is she, like, "Yay, way to go humans! You finally woke up? Rock on! I hope you win!"? Is she (ahem!) cheering us on?

No, I suspect She continues to weep that once again, we are leaving Her out of the equation. Global climate change is happening because, in the face of our thoughtless, loveless misuse, She has to work ever harder to keep this planet viable. At this crucial moment, how our human structures and institutions and plans fare in upcoming years is low on Her list of priorities simply because this planet -- earth -- is too important to Her. Her number one priority is its survival as a home for a variety of present day and future species, including humans. 

So, fighting these climate manifestations, we are once again fighting Her. Now, there's good news in that, to the extent to which we have, unknowingly, given Her influence an opportunity to get bigger, and fast. We cannot ignore Her anymore, can we? 

As ever, it's the third way. It's not about plowing ahead as if the climate weren't changing, and it is not about agreeing that it is changing, and fighting the phenomenon. It's about each individual trying day-by-day to intuit what needs be done to become more aligned with Nature. And it's about acknowledging that Nature needs to do what She needs to do. 

Dreams of Dad

Before I talk about dreams, I do want to acknowledge that some of my posts (like yesterday's) have perhaps sounded a bit self-pitying. It's like, especially these last six months since turning sixty-eight, all the old sludge in me seems to have needed to surface -- anger, grief, confusion. My best way to find some peace with it all has been to explore it here, but doing such things in public still feels very strange. Yet in the end, I keep thinking, good heavens, if a well-educated east coast woman with European roots in America back to the 1600's has rarely been cheered on for anything she does, it's overwhelming to think about how many other people in this country could resonate. And while it is inspiring to see the videos cutting in to youngsters at gyms and swimming pools across the country, and it's obvious that their Olympic dreams are being birthed, it's also somewhat painful to me. As with pro sports and many other goals, most of these children will never reach that level, and never hear the cheers...or worse. In movies, toys, education and sports, young people are trained so early to compete, to see the world as "me/us vs. them". I just don't think this particular energy would exist at all in a more Goddess-centered realm.

Anyway, my dad. I referred yesterday to his presence at my 50th birthday party, and in 2006, I was still genuinely touched that he came and said a few nice words about me to those gathered. It is one of the events that has made me slightly question my later conclusion that he was a top of the line narcissist...but on balance, looking at my whole life, it was a painful experience of strange, cruel events, being invisible, lied to, or faced with constant paradoxes. There may have been some early moments when he praised me for a good report card (or whatever), but it was always so very "pro forma", with no genuine enthusiasm. And anytime you tried to talk about anything serious with him, he stared blankly and walked away. My mother's experience -- now that I understand things better -- must have been a nightmare. These last six years since his death have been about simply trying to understand, and put it all in perspective. He looked so kind and sweet, yet in the end, for me, was a complete black hole.

Sunday, I woke up from what I think is the first dream I've had about Dad since he died. I wanted to phone him up (I guess it was supposed to be the present, and he was still alive? Not sure!). The phone next to me was this 1920's or -30's era monstrosity, and of course it didn't work. The dream came to an end with me racing around, trying to find my cell phone. The impression I had was that I genuinely wanted his help at this crucial moment, wanted to speak to whatever part of him was real and caring. And of course, I cried in confusion, because it just seemed that in the dream I was setting myself up for the usual blank stare or silence on the other end.

So this morning, two days later, a dream that I cannot help but think comes on the heels of the first. Dad was standing to my right, and we were somewhere where  "Project Runway" was filming (of all things!!!) The main contestant in the dream was a woman who had created an amazing gown during her season, one that I'd been kind of half-jokingly saying would be great when I dress up as the Goddess/Queen of the New Paradigm. Of course, when I went running to talk to her, I couldn't find her (typical Liz dream) but when I woke up, I was rather stunned. Two days ago, I urgently wanted my dad's love/assistance/feedback. And then two days later, he seems to be (on the dream plane) supporting me in regards to my future.

I'm not going to assume anything quite yet -- I would need a few more dreams or relevant experiences -- but an astonishing thought has come to me, which I don't think I've read about elsewhere. Would it be possible that the person in one's life who had been most challenging and most painful, could show up later as a kindly, loving guide? I had already tried to play with the idea that he was simply playing a role, to teach me the hardest lesson I needed to learn, but up until now I hadn't had any new "contact" with him. If this is for real, and even if I have no further dreams, I think the impression of him standing by my side (as if actually wanting to be "by my side") is so powerful that it has changed me forever. OMG. Thanks, Dad. Today I don't feel quite so alone, at least.

The Cheering

I guess it goes without saying that this was a rocky weekend. Nothing like finally "figuring out who you are" after 68 years to send you up and down the emotional roller coaster. Over the last nine years, I have circled closer and closer, but this time it feels real, if only because I can tell that in some ways, I'd rather be anything but a Queen of the New Paradigm! 

The biggest journey was one of grief, and the catalyst was watching the Olympics, which (of course!) I watched to distract myself. Initially, I felt a new openness and appreciation for the athletes, respect for their awesome talent, enjoyment of the Paris venue, even, occasionally, became excited during an event, cheering the athletes on.

But it was the very cheering that sent me into a tailspin. I mean, imagine someone cheering you on!!! It is an experience I have almost literally never had.

Scanning my life, yes, I have been at the receiving end of some polite clapping. When I gave an organ recital in 1973, people clapped, and same again at a much better- played senior Smith organ recital in 1977. At the 1982 degree ceremony where I received my MMus diploma, Royal Albert Hall was packed with University of London graduates, so when I walked up on stage, there was quite a bit of loud clapping, and I think my fellow Royal Holloway friends may have cheered a little. When I have sung in church services, of course, cheering was never appropriate, and choral singing (whether in services or concerts) is a group effort, not a personal achievement. At my 50th birthday (which I planned!), I was feted and appreciated, and even my dad said some nice words. But loudly cheered? I don't think it has ever happened, and for a while this weekend I fell into quite a depression over that.

Yet it finally hit me that raucous cheering may be a function of the Old Paradigm, with its conflicts and contests and sports events and focus on winning. And then when enthusiastic support gets all tied in with patriotism and statistics and the emphasis on "better" and "more", emotions become even more engaged. Someone like me who has always been instinctively post-duality and post-conflict has literally done nothing that involves winning, so there has been, perhaps, nothing to cheer. And because my life seemed completely nonsensical to everyone, including me much of the time, I'm sure no one knew what goal to cheer me on towards!

One of the gold medal winners found his mother in the stands, and I could see her say, "I'm so proud of you!" Those are also words I don't remember ever having heard from anyone. (Unprompted, anyway. About 20 years ago, I pitifully asked a few friends if they would write me a note saying they were proud of me...I guess I just wanted to know someone was proud of my efforts to follow a different drum, if nothing else!) In recent years since I started this blog, dear friends have occasionally dropped me texts or notes that have literally been the breath of life.

By the end of the weekend, I did feel a tiny, eensy, sense within myself that the Goddess has always been cheering me on. And also, that "cheering people on" may be part of my new role. Should I become aware of people actively choosing the bushwhacking path of all love, and I see that they need cheering or a hug, may I leave my own traditional reticence behind and support them! We are in this together.

 

The Queen is giving a Party

So, Wednesday, I told you that I was going to operate as if I was "Queen for the Day". And to the extent to which I could get into that mode on a hot, humid day, I did. I dressed as informally as ever, but in a turquoise-and-blue top (those being the colors I associate with the Goddess). I appreciated the air-conditioned moments on the bus and elsewhere, and tried to stay calm in the face of challenges or concerns. Having brought up my old joke about being "Queen of the New Paradigm", though, it was strange...for the first time ever, it no longer seemed like a joke. I could almost feel that identity coalescing around me, into my bones and my whole being. 

There must have been at least some truth in these impressions, because yesterday, August first, I fell completely into the lowest place I can possibly imagine. I've told you, dear readers, how often my new realizations are followed by deep energetic and emotional dives...wanting to be honest about it in case you ever have the same experience. Well, basically, it was a morning of sheer panic. If my needing to move soon into a new setting and situation isn't just a case of a hapless, low-income old gal trying to find housing (which in itself could be nearly impossible in our world), then it is something even more terrifying! Perhaps my destination is somewhere specific, with a person or people or a community that at least respects that I carry important new information for the future, and they may want to (at least in a loose sense) support my being who I am, and help as "translators" between me and the present-day institutions I need to deal with, which I find so hard. There may be only one or two or three such places in all the world, and so it is possible my much vaunted left brain intelligence will be of absolutely no help whatsoever (as it scans all my past experiences and situations like a helpless computer, unable to find anything relevant!) Completely an OMG moment.

So how did I get through such a day? For the most part, except for a few things around the yard, I stayed indoors, where I still thankfully have a nest. I just knew this had to be a day of "me and the Goddess". But I also didn't try very hard to figure anything out. I watched a little of the Olympics. I ate a little, drank some ice tea. I read my Mary Balogh romances (love stories, of course) and let the cat sit on my bed (love and beauty). I slept. I just tried to keep breathing, and to remind myself that this kind of day has always followed major, important steps forward. 

By the end of the day, this image came to me. We are currently living in what I've for years called the Old Paradigm (all of our economic and political and religious structures worldwide, not just certain ones). But we are starting to see a transition to a New Paradigm, more Goddess-and love-centered, less divisive. Perhaps visually, the transition can be seen as a bridge over a river or canyon, with the New Paradigm on the other side.

I'm not really "of" the Old Paradigm, or of the bridge. This is why I really have been pretty useless at contributing to our world in a normal way, and my role has also not been to try to help people reach the bridge, or even to get across it. I am completely "of" the New Paradigm, and I have to laugh, because this is where my WASP-y east coast background comes to the fore! I mean, I feel like I am the hostess, welcoming people to a party! While in a literal sense, the house I'm in isn't necessarily a castle or a manor or mega-mansion, and true nun that I am, I don't really need more than what I've had for years (a tiny "cell" with a twin bed, a dresser, and a bookshelf), the fact is that the New Paradigm structure will feel beautiful, spacious, and welcoming. It's like trying to engage with the energy of a European stately home, but in a completely different context.

Anyway, there I am, in a turquoise blue dress with pearls around my neck, music on the whatever they use today and plates of finger food placed around the room. There are lots of comfortable chairs and big windows to look out at views, and patios and outdoor green spaces. And yes, I have a few people helping me with cooking and cleaning (I can't do as much as I used to!), but they do it because they love being part of the birth of the New Paradigm -- it's not about money or slavery, two concepts that don't even exist "here"! 

The Queen is giving a party. And I am just waiting for my first houseguests! After the rigors they have been through, the folks who arrive will need a big hug, a cold drink, and some munchies!

As I head forward, that is where I am going! That is who I am.