One of the Glimmers

The other day, I spoke of how I was just barely managing to see beyond my "old timeline" via sparkling glimmers of the "new timeline". I thought I would talk about one of those glimmers, since it is, well, slightly complicated.

After a short "retreat/return", I segued into a cat-sitting job with a little being whom I am terribly fond of. Being in a quiet house, I've managed to partway extend my contemplative time, but I also discovered on TV something called "The Art Detectives" (Originally "Britain's Lost Masterpieces")...which has completely drawn me in, as "Time Team" did years ago, and "Landscape Artist of the Year" more recently. What is a common thread? Of course, immersion in the place that still feels like home, and (in the case of the two more recent series) immersion in artistic beauty.

I am a little confused by why these shows (about an art historian tracing down the true facts about pieces of art in museum storerooms, with help from a social historian) has bedazzled me, and the fact that its intensity feels like my new timeline. I mean, I have no intention of becoming an art historian. I suppose in part it is because of my allowing myself to more fully accept the British Isles-loving core of myself, without embarrassment, bitterness or sadness. Part of it may be allowing myself to accept my attraction to these beautiful places and pieces of art (mostly painted by men), even knowing that they belong to a disappearing paradigm. Beauty is beauty.

But it also finally hit me -- a big aspect of the show is the conservation work that needs to be done to virtually all of the paintings, from the removal of old yellow varnish, to removal of unfortunate overpaintings, to canvas restoration and paint retouching. Some of the paintings are almost invisible under grey, yellow and brown dirt and gunk, or have had water or other damage. Dark, dingy images are returned to their original glory, and may be found to be by the old masters. So, of course, I resonate. This is essentially the process I am going through, the stripping away of old layers, old fears, old expectations, and slowly but surely finding the glimmers of bright light where the true original me is shining through. On the show, it is such a thrill to see the final "reveal" -- maybe I am starting to believe that there will be a similar moment for me when everything comes together spectacularly.

And on that note, the other day I went to get my hair trimmed, and the young woman took more off than I asked for. It is no longer heading down to the middle of my back, it is lighter and breezier and just a little below shoulder length. It's good, part of the new timeline! Happy Saturday!

Glimmers

Surely one of the hardest things to do in this world is to truly believe what your heart is telling you, no matter the evidence in front of your eyes. Virtually nothing in my life over the last few weeks has been surprising, or evidence of a "new timeline". In the bigger picture, I'm still where I was 18 months ago. Even an impending move isn't taking me far from my current reality. 

So it takes nerves of steel to move forward, believing. This isn't simply wanting something better or more appealing or more fun. It's about, where and how can I most fully be myself, and serve the Goddess? No matter what, I must be on that path! Even if it seems superficially like an old path. Over the last 24 hours, there have been glimmers, like the sun sparkling on the water. Moments when I experienced or saw something new that made me feel alive and joyful, if only for a few seconds or a few minutes. Moments when I could feel the new timeline, even if I couldn't see it. Spiritual folks are talking about how, many of us will start functioning more from our hearts and guts than from our brains and eyes, and I think that's true. But even though I have been on a long and deliberate spiritual journey, my intuitive muscles remain rather weak. I've tried so hard to be left-brained "normal" for so many years, failing spectacularly, so I am tired and 70, and I just want to make my move then collapse in a heap. The sparkling brilliant glimmers of light and life are both welcome and too much to deal with. But I'll pay attention to any more that I see today. I think the basic message they are giving me is the proverbial, "You're not dead yet!"

I'm not.

Winging It

It is hard to believe that over the course of a decade, I've never yet used this title, "Winging It". Good heavens, my entire life has been about "winging it". 

I am on a short retreat, always the wrong word for me. I think when I do it from now on, I will call it a "return", because it is more a case of returning to me than retreating from the world. Increasingly, I want what I am doing to be about me, not about the world...as I have also said before, this is ever-challenging for a "girl" brought up in a narcissistic environment... On that note, without thinking, I forgot about retreat mode and turned on the public radio morning news. It was a good reminder that at my worst, my narcissism may be in the 5 range on a scale of 1-10, and some of what we are seeing worldwide is about a 15. It is all relative. And we women need to reclaim our inherent powers, even if it means sometimes swinging the pendulum a little too far in the other direction.

A lot of people on my wavelength are using the term "new timeline" to refer to the new paradigm we have entered...I'm not totally thrilled by the wording, either the "time" or the "line" part, but having said that, I don't have the energy to find something different today. Suffice it to say that the last occasion I was on a "return", I envisioned that I was heading into a future timeline that was even more hermit-like than my present. And in my first few hours here, I slipped into that mode. However, breaking through that energy has been a tiny but consistent energy of future companionship, of partnership, of supportive love with another person. Maybe, just maybe, this will be my last solo retreat. 

To return to the topic of wings, I am still troubled by how few birds I continue to encounter these days. Sure, there are some. I finally saw a few crows, a few robins, a few seagulls, a distant glimpse of an eagle, and one hummingbird. And I often hear what I think is a Carolina wren. But overall, still no dawn chorus, still not the variety of birds one would expect over the course of the summer. Even taking into account the fact that this is only my second summer back in this area, I trust my observations, and the situation is perplexing and concerning. Birds are winging it...somewhere.

Goddess Words 66: Loveliness

OK, so I plow on, a farmer sowing as many seeds as I can. And I'm growing and changing even as I write...hopefully the seeds are as well.

By the standards of 2026, "loveliness" is a rather dated word isn't it? I mean, even twenty years ago when I included it on my Goddess list, I suspect it was already passé. The concept of being beautiful to look at (as opposed to sexy or edgy) -- or beautiful in a moral or spiritual way -- may still be relevant (one hopes!), yet even to my own ears (strengthened by two decades of increasing feminism), there is something rather wimpy about the word. If I were to die tomorrow, and the main thing people said about me was, "She was a lovely person", my immediate thought is that I would be fuming from the heavenly realm! Think of all those 19th century portraits of beautiful women in white dresses, languishing on sofas or window seats, staring into the distance. Women perceived of as being lovely because of stillness and inaction. Heck, I used to resonate with such images, and wished I could be transported back about two hundred years so that this would be all that was expected of me. I could be myself, think deep thoughts, and not have to pull myself together every morning to tackle the NYC subway system, grab a bagel, take an elevator far up a skyscraper, and deal with the news of the world. "The real world". 

Of course, if being a lovely woman painted in a moment of leisure was "the real world" for anyone, it was only for a handful of privileged women, not for the vast majority of women worldwide who labored ceaselessly, often enslaved -- literally or figuratively. And, of course, I have barely ever heard a man being complimented on his "loveliness". So there is an overlay here of female niceness, insipidity, powerlessness, maybe even superficial prettiness, that is not very appealing. Having said that, coming from my particular background, I am a little ashamed to confess that "loveliness" is still a kind of tentpole for me, a safe energy to fall back into when the world overwhelms me, much like being nice and mute.

Yet I trust my inclusion of the word in my Goddess list all those years ago. Why and how did I associate loveliness with the Goddess?

If I go to the heart of the word and shed all my personal random associations, it is a little easier to embrace loveliness. First of all, the word's core is "love", right? True loveliness surely starts within, in the heart, in the ability to love. That ability to love leads to a moral and ethical solidity vis à vis other people, animals and the earth; and the ability to embody love, compassion, generosity of spirit, power sharing, even gentleness. When these qualities become a person's core identity, it is inevitable that it shows "without", in a person's face, bearing, and general energy. Their love shines outward from the core, in a ripple effect. These people are so love-filled that love is flowing out of them. They are genuinely love-ly.

If you accept the proposition that love is the most powerful force in the world, a lovely person (female or male) isn't actually powerless, or languid, or inactive. They may be some of the most powerful people in the world no matter what they are doing or not doing. A more Goddess-centered community construct would honor loveliness, not only with appealing oil paintings, but with true respect and attention. What do these spirit-rich people think? What is their world view? How do they treat other people? If love is their core value, what would love-based institutions look like and function like? Why don't we listen to them?

Far from being limp dishrags staring out at the landscape, lovely people have an active energy, a valuable gift for the world. They can be exquisitely powerful. They are a fractal manifestation of the Goddess. On second thought (an hour into writing and editing this essay!), I would be honored if I were praised for my "loveliness"!

New Moon, Eclipse, and Meteors

What with one thing and another, this is a powerful day. So once again, I will keep this shortish.

My new moon resolution is to re-frame how I express and experience love in the rest of this lifetime. I've alluded to this already, but today seems like a good day to declare it. I haven't lacked the ability to love: if all my positive emotions toward English church music and England had been used as a power source over the years, I could have lit up every state I've lived in! But I haven't yet experienced sending that love in the direction of another human being, or experienced it returning to me in that kind of personal way, and that is the new path I'm finally ready to explore. Over the next month, as the moon slowly becomes visible and brightens again, may my new intention light the way. If my path still looks a bit old on the outside, may I remember that the crucial change has happened within--curiosity. What would it be like to have a true life/spiritual partner? What can I do today to open myself to this?

And a quick note about Anglican chant. I went online yesterday to hear a few versions (from some of the top cathedral choirs) of Psalm 22, with its "roaring lion". And I am so proud of myself!  I listened to these different variations with pleasure, amusement (at the creativity of the organists and choirmasters) and, literally, joy. I love, love, love Anglican chant, as hard as many of the words of the Psalms can be these days. But there was not one ounce in me of bitter-sweetness, homesickness, or any mixed or negative emotion. For an hour, I was simply filled with delight. It appears that cleaning out the crevices is working!

If there is some new path showing itself to you in the sun or the moon's mysterious half-light, or in the sparkle of meteors, may you at least look at it with curiosity. If it is right for you, you will probably know it!

A Roaring Lion

Saturday was the Lion's Gate, a concept I had never heard of before sometime last year. (I'll let you look it up, because even now, after about eighteen months of listening to astrological talks, I still don't understand the actual astrological pieces of any of it, just the general energies.) This whole month, what with 8/8 Lion's Gate and then two eclipses, is apparently particularly powerful, astrologically and spiritually, and a portal for those of us women more fully embodying the Divine Feminine.

Because this portal appears to be coinciding with my reaching deep into myself to heal some remaining bitterness and pain around church music, it was interesting to remember words from Psalm 22, which I used to hear on recordings (and also sang at Royal Holloway and possibly also at St. John the Divine): "they gape upon me with their mouths: as it were a ramping and a roaring lion." In fact, this is such a classic psalm, giving creative organists leeway to literally mimic (musically) the roaring lion (and bulls and hounds, among other traumas!) Our choral Anglican chant would proceed in such a controlled fashion, while the organist decorated/word painted ornately around us. 

In my personal life, I haven't been a roaring lion. And yet just now, I re-read the last three or four posts, and realized with surprising satisfaction that the roaring lion in me is coming out. By telling some of these stories, I am no longer in hiding. I am no longer as scared. The real me is becoming more and more visible. Roar.

A Few Notes

Today, just a few notes, I promise.

I had a dreadful night's sleep. It sounds ridiculous, but I think I am waking up when the moon comes out, wanting to accompany it through the night, out of fear that "we" will do something to obliterate it.  In those wee hours I am full of energy, now, not so much.

Another thing happening is that some of the gunk referred to yesterday isn't waiting for me to find it, it's almost literally jumping out of the crevices saying, "Here I am, deal with me!" The cutting remark that haunted me last night came from when I wanted to audition for a choir and was told, "We have more than enough excellent potential countertenors. Why would we need to scrape the bottom of the barrel to audition you?" Countertenors are men who sing in the female alto range, which I sing. It doesn't matter that it wasn't really personal. It still cut to the quick.

In our emerging Aquarian Age, someone throbbing with love for a form of art -- and talented in the field -- simply will not be turned down. Period. The world needs love -- and beauty -- too darned much.

In the last few days, I'm still seeing and hearing too few birds. However, I have seen two rabbits, one woodchuck and one squirrel. I also saw one half of a rainbow last night(!) Oh Lordy.