Every Little Journey

As you have gathered, in the 1990's and the early 2000's, I moved around and traveled a lot. While I never drove all the way to California, I took a number of long solo car trips around the country, the most memorable of which brought me to Duluth to live. I also took long train and bus trips, in a few cases not knowing the potential outcomes of my explorations. And of course, over the years, I've flown to England and Europe at least a dozen times. So I am not entirely sure why I've reached the point where it is so hard to travel, perhaps a combination of my age, the times, post-COVID fears, and an awareness of calamitous conditions around the country and the world.

So it was an unusual weekend of two little journeys. One, by train, took me to meet a friend in the Hudson Valley, destination: a crowded, wealthy, artsy, touristy town. On the second trip, I rode with a different friend to an event in a tiny, almost empty, Mohawk Valley hamlet on the first weekend of hunting season. The weekend was a refreshing break. These two little journeys encapsulated some of the intense contrasts to be found in upstate New York, and followed well-worn paths along two great rivers. To that extent, it was very grounding.

At the same time, my longer physical journeys over the years (as well as nonstop down-and-in and up-and-out spiritual journeys) always keep me from grounding entirely. There's a part of me almost flying out of trains, buses or cars, wanting to sing "Wake up, wake up!" to everyone around me! There's a bigger reality upon us, immeasurable changes of every possible sort. And I sense this almost panicky effort of people around me to maintain "life as we know it", a stressed forced gaiety and confusion that ultimately may not be much different from what populations around the country and the globe are experiencing.

So it took more courage than it used to to say "yes" to these little journeys, just as it does to walk into big box stores that completely overwhelm me, or to stand with homeless people waiting for the bus downtown. Billions of humans take billions of little journeys every day. Every little journey is a courageous one, whether you are 7 or 70, stepping out to school or the corner store, or sailing across the Atlantic, or climbing a mountain, or commuting to work by car or subway. Ultimately, we don't know where the journey will take us...we set out thinking we know. We take a deep breath, and we say yes, and we leap -- into a swirling energy that more-than-ever is changing us and our world in real time. Even the little journeys may transmute us. This weekend did just that, and I am glad I had the courage to say yes and not stay "home", now that I finally have one!

A Dream, but no Haiku

The other night I had a dream that I think may be quite significant, but I'm still not entirely sure what it means.

I was in a situation that reminded me of the "letters tests" I took when applying for the Letters departments at Time-Life Books and Time Magazine. (In those interviews, I was given sample reader letters and back-up research/reporting for the passages or stories involved, and was asked to write the kind of letter I would send back to the reader.) In the current dream, I was in a huge room with floor-to-ceiling windows, but just a large desk. I don't even remember a computer or chair, to be honest. A woman presented me with a hand-written document, but here, it was not a letter to be replied to. I was being asked to rewrite/edit the document using my higher spiritual insight, I guess you could say. My knowledge needed to be folded into the essay or story or whatever it was. I don't remember the whole dream -- when I came and went over a few days, people at the door questioned why I was doing this. The woman who had given me the material was well, but not ostentatiously, dressed, and I was the same. I remember feeling quite confident, as if this job were "right down my alley". And I remember saying to her that, as there was a passage in French, we would need a native French speaker to look it over too. That's all I remember.

All I can think of is that my post-70 "job" must involve translating current thinking into more forward-thinking material, in some way that goes beyond this blog. The dream felt good overall, and my aura of confidence felt good. So I look forward to seeing how it all unfolds!

On a completely different subject, yesterday I was at a certain big box store, waiting for the bus. I was going to have a rather long wait, and unfortunately I had not brought with me the crossword and small notepad I usually keep for these moments. I do have a "new" flip phone, however, that has a "notes" function, so even though I couldn't remember exactly what constituted haiku, I decided to write a few short haiku-like poems. Here they are, in the order written:

Outside the bog box store

smokers' smoke wafting,

no bus

wondering what it all

means

Every aisle

too, too much plastic

an affront to the 

goddess

The bus

must have come early

or i came late

Three crows in a tree

isn't that supposed to

mean something?

Goddess Words 68: More Magic

Two years ago (8/14/24) I wrote about magic. Interestingly, my Goddess list includes "more magic" as well, and I've decided to write without looking back to see what I wrote then.

I handwrote this in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep, and it is significant that the definition in my 50-year old Concise Oxford Dictionary (which is always by my side) is exceedingly negative: "the supposed art of influencing course of events by occult control of nature or of spirits, witchcraft." Yikes. Clearly written before the last forty years or so of creative visualization, thinking and growing rich, and the like. A fear-based definition. And the feminist in me cannot help but wonder, when Edison created light (using his specialized knowledge), why was that considered science? In 2026, I am constantly doing things that would have seemed magical in the 70's, from calling up a company and having them already know who I am before I open my mouth, to wondering, "What's the population of Schenectady County?" and simply needing to type the question and then press a button. The line between magic/miracles and the everyday has become very blurry indeed. [I see that newer online definitions are generally a little less subjective.]

Today, the shelves of bookstores are packed with trendy books about spells to create X, and rituals to create Y. They leave me cold, uninterested. It isn't fear, although the "w" word can still instill a little of that. It's just that I have never been drawn -- aside from choral evensong -- to spiritual rituals. The Goddess exists for me in a completely post-duality place (and I realize that this is a paradox in itself!) She is in a place beyond having and not having, beyond something being "wrong" and wanting to make it right by psychic or physical means. I don't know, this is middle-of-the-night rambling, but nowadays, "magic" is letting go of specific desires and aligning with the all-love dimension of life -- and watching what happens. Sure, there are still dozens of things about my life that I wish were different, and yet I've learned from long experience that trying to "change" them from an energy of separation and fear only creates more separation and fear. Focusing without -- wanting to change events, people, or physical conditions -- simply doesn't seem to work for me. Heck, we've all read about this in multiple spiritual books and videos (I can hear Esther Hicks speaking as I write this!) Our "work" is within, to align with love, to align with our highest possible self, to be love and a conduit for love, and then, yes, more magic happens spontaneously in and around us. We attract what's on that love wavelength; people and situations are drawn to us. At moments when it feels like we are stalled, perhaps we are. We've gone as far as our current level of love can create. To get back in the flow, especially now in the Age of Aquarius, we won't get far from any non-love place. We won't get far trying to "use" magic, spells or rituals to "get" things. The river will start flowing again when we expand our ability to love, when we know deep down we are part of the larger love-based universe. We won't use "more magic". We won't receive "more magic". We will be "more magic".

Trees Turning

This will be very short. Eight years ago, I mentioned that one of the only poems I had ever written had a line about "the first tree to turn into September". I guess this illustrates the change in earth's climate, because it really is now, early October this year, that I am noticing substantial color changes. Of course the timing is different here than it was in Duluth. And there is something unique about the smell of autumn in New England and upstate New York. I am ready for it. And I guess I like the idea of "turning into" October. 

I am loving getting around more, mostly by bus, but it's also somewhat exhausting, with all the waiting for buses and transferring. I understand why people my age hold onto their cars as long as possible. But even if someone handed me a nice new car on a silver platter (think "The Price is Right"!), I don't think I would want it. The roads are so stressful around here, maybe everywhere, and it has been too long since I did extensive driving. At the moment it seems unlikely that I'll get back to it.

On this long weekend, where nothing we do can adequately honor indigenous peoples, may all of us perhaps just spend a few minutes with those bright red and orange trees. I'm going to try to listen to them, maybe touch, not just look and smell. Take care, all.

Two Years

Several years ago, when I was still in Duluth ("Forgiveness" 3/27/24), I asked Schenectady and this region for forgiveness. Out of the blue, I understood that I had been blaming my home town for a host of things that, frankly, weren't its fault.

I guess this isn't entirely uncommon...in literature and song lyrics, people speak of wanting to leave their prosaic place of birth for the lights of the big city, sort of thing. For me, by age six or eight, it wasn't the big city, it was the chapel of King's College Cambridge, wasn't it? My heart and spirit were gone, "outta here". Day-to-day life in upstate New York under the shadow (metaphorically and literally) of the big circular GE logo, was foreign to me. It was a coat that didn't fit, even our anglophile Episcopal church. The music at church had connected me energetically with the music of my lifetimes-long home, and now nothing else around me was right. If you had asked me at 17 (as I was heading off to college), will you be living in Schenectady at 70, the answer would have been a resounding, "No!" (Of course, at that age, I didn't understand that in this yes-based universe, my passionate "no" was essentially a "yes"!)

Over the years, I have periodically come through Schenectady en route elsewhere. It is the perfect pivot point, like an elbow. Trains from the west stop here heading south to New York or north to Lake Champlain and Montreal. It is near where the Mohawk and Hudson Rivers meet, where the Thruway meets the Northway and the Mass Pike. Perhaps at times I needed the reminder that this wasn't where I wanted to be, before following a thread forward to where there were bigger lessons to be learned.

Yet two years ago, I threw up my hands and gave in. No, I never made it permanently to Cambridge (or elsewhere in England), and I didn't have the energy to try again, but I also couldn't start my "old age" in the upper Midwest. I knew instinctively that the spiritual work I needed to do now was with the place I'm quite sure my soul deliberately chose for my birth in this lifetime. So here I have been for just gone two years.

The "happily ever after" movie version would have me firmly rooting here, finally finding the love, purpose, and prosperity I have never experienced elsewhere -- and heck, that could still happen. But something just as valuable has already transpired: today I completely embrace and accept that this is where I am "from" in this lifetime. The chronic resistance that I carried around with me, the inner "ugh" I used to feel at the thought of this place, has just about completely melted.

The other day, I was in the Stockade, and happened upon an unusual vista, which I had to take a picture of: the spire of St. George's, and, half-a-block in front of it, the roof and top floor of the carriage house my grandmother lived in when she first moved to Schenectady. A year or so later, she moved to an apartment a stone's throw away -- but as I snapped the picture I was aware of this almost literal arrow between the church of my baptism and childhood, through -- what? -- 1959 or 1960 and the grandmother I felt the most at home with, to me today in 2026. These things were and are aligned at this moment. While the coat still doesn't really fit, I'm not squirming to throw it off. I'm still alive. I have the privilege of seeing an old place through new eyes. I am soaking that in as best I can, being present as best I can. That's a lot of growth in two years. Thank you, Goddess.

Work

This morning, I am mulling over work. Hard work, hard physical labor. 

Returning to the world of city bus travel has made me aware of a whole world of work that at times I have remained distanced from. Hearing other riders' conversations, seeing their fast food uniforms -- it is clear that many people are commuting to jobs that are physical and extraordinarily taxing. And there is the hard work of young mothers stepping onto the bus with one baby in a stroller, and one or two other children in tow. Never having had children of my own and being the age that I am, I am so exhausted by thinking of the work of parenthood that I nearly swoon. The hard work of the bus drivers...yikes! I don't know what is more challenging, the conditions on the road or inside the bus. At the store, seeing employees stocking shelves. At a sandwich shop, watching a single employee deal with multiple customers at once. Watching road crews and truck drivers doing their work. I am increasingly aware of the physical labor that keeps our current paradigm going.

My life fell between the cracks of so many work realities. I never quite fit in anywhere. Attending private school and college in the sixties and early seventies, I rode the final wave of girls and young women being educated simply for the sake of being educated -- and for the likely outcome of eventually marrying and being the intelligent wife of a successful man. In that scenario, there would have been little hard labor after the birth of children -- American automobiles and appliances (Schenectady being the home of GE), plus outside help with childcare and housework, would have left me free, say, to be a part-time organist or art teacher, had I wanted to do that. Jobs between college and marriage tended to involve the work of the mind -- teaching at a private school, say, or publishing.

Publishing was the route I took, briefly, before heading to Britain to use my brain in a more intensive way, pursuing a master's in chant/historical musicology. There is probably nothing more esoteric than Aquitanian neumes! The work I did on my thesis was grueling but almost entirely mental/intellectual. (Having said that, typing up 90 pages on a manual typewriter was "something else"!) For better or for worse, when you have an IQ well into the genius range, academia is the realm of work best suited to your skills. I mean, I hadn't stumbled upon quite the right academic discipline for me, but at that moment (1980), if I had been male and/or in the right academic discipline, I have no doubt that my future would have unfolded in that milieu.

But...instead...deep in college loan debt, I returned to the US and the publishing world. I considered the law, more brain work which (as the granddaughter of a pioneering Canadian woman lawyer) I would have excelled at, but I couldn't bear it being conflict-based. I suppose that is when things started to unravel, work-wise, as I tried to use art and spirituality talents, and support them with harder physical work (waitressing, retail, public school special ed). During the spell when I was an adjunct professor at a community college, I was closest to being in my work element, but my long automobile commute (involving ferry rides!) added hours on the road, and this was already an exceptionally low-paying job with no benefits. I simply could not get ahead.

In one post, I cannot possibly assess my lifetime relationship to work. Not losing heart or giving up was the "work". Living on little money, moving from place to place to try to find a better fit, even trying to put a spiritual spin on this odyssey -- that was the "work". I lifted relatively few boxes, paved no roads, drove no trucks, and built no bridges. My work created no children, property, investments, career accomplishments, or fame. Just some paintings, this blog, a rich life experience, and the most precious possession of all -- a measure of inner peace and wisdom. To the extent to which I know I owe my bare human survival to countless other people who physically labored far harder than I ever have, I honor them today. We've all tried our best to "be the best we can be", haven't we?

Goddess Word 67: Astonishment

I've looked over the list of Goddess words I've already explored in this blog, and I am -- yes -- astonished to find that I have yet to tackle "astonishment". Before considering what I might have meant about the word 20 years ago, what are my first impressions this morning?

To be in a state of astonishment is to be shocked, surprised, or in a state of wonder or awe. Thus it can have both negative or positive connotations. This morning, having just listened to the news on public radio (yes, I still do this!), I am associating astonishment with my negative reaction to many of the news items. Yes, for years, news events have reflected a complete toxic inhumanity that just simply never fails to astonish me. Day after day, it seems to get worse, at times sending me into a deeper black hole of shock and dismay. I've long since passed the event horizon where I could stay in some kind of journalistic, artistic, or academic objectivity. Most news events reflect values that couldn't be further from my own. Am I a masochist, choosing to listen to this daily source of pain? Do I wish to fight these trends? No. But twenty years from now if I am still alive, the historian in me would like to be able to help people understand all the steps in the transition we experienced in the 2020's and 2030's. On my best days, I see these current horrors in the larger context of the emerging new reality, thankfully.

Having said that, it is my belief that the Goddess would want all of us now to turn our primary gazes away from these sources of negative astonishment to the new paradigm, which will be astonishing in its own right, in a glorious way.

What do I mean by that? I'm still not clear exactly how the 5D next paradigm will manifest physically; I can only sense and guess. And I learn by physical experience. The other day was a day of astonishing good fortune, and I don't think it was a fluke. I think it was a case of, I fell into the zone, and allowed myself to stay in it! Buses came along (whether running late or early) when I needed them. At a store, I found exactly what I was looking for in a wire-box-type "dresser" -- and it came in a box that wasn't too heavy to carry back on the bus! (It was easy to assemble as well.) There was an easy resolution to two issues that I had lost sleep over. I heard from several friends unexpectedly, and then two people (one a friend, one a stranger) offered to buy things for me. You get the idea. By following my instincts and walking a little more openheartedly into the world than perhaps I usually do, I magnetized over and over and over. At each step, I said, "Thank you Goddess, I love this!"

These kinds of days will stop being astonishing as they become normal. As we go through the collapse of the old paradigm, and ease our way into the new lane, we will see wonders emerging from the ashes. New species. The unearthing of old mysteries and relics, leading to new understandings of the arc of human experience. Old foes will lay down their weapons because they simply cannot tolerate war any more. We will find new psychic forms of communication, travel, and the manifestation of necessities. There will be amazing, paradoxical mixes of old and new technologies. Mother Earth Herself will transform, and we will too. Everything will look different, and be different, and as hard as it may seem, we need to be open to it! It is this kind of 'astonishment' that I think I was intuiting when I added the word to my list...and all it takes is somehow moving through the negative astonishment to a loving place of, "I wonder what is emerging from this..." From the perspective of where we have been, this new paradigm will be a source of joyful astonishment.