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.