Conflict-free stories

This is what I wrote yesterday, before the Archbishop's installation.

I spoke last week about wanting to write a conflict-free story, one that doesn't have the traditional conflict climax arc-cum-denouement. But it has been an intense week in my own story (and the world's too) and the best I could manage yesterday was a few travel stories from earlier in my life.

Yet I woke up this morning realizing that in a way, these travel stories are examples of exactly what I am talking about! Somehow, even thirty, forty or fifty years ago, I knew I wanted beautiful, positive travel adventures, and when I was free enough, that was what I managed to create. I have to laugh! If Hollywood were to commit these adventures to film, they would be considered far too boring as is! Up on the big screen, the Scottish ferry would have sunk, I would have been attacked by both people and chickens on the train to Madrid, my northbound English train would have smashed into another train, and my car would have broken down on a lonely stretch of North Dakota highway in the middle of the night. My life story would have to be dramatized, sexed-up, violenced-up, and the final scenes would only have been satisfying because I survived one near-disaster after another -- not because I had had a beautiful, conflict-free trip.

It may be unfair of me, but I keep going back to how my brothers told me I had done nothing worthwhile with my life. At the time, it hurt, of course, but ultimately that's the message I got all along from our now-dissolving, out-of-balance construct. What was "worthwhile" was the macho struggle, the "fighting the dragon", the "killing the dragon", reaching the top, and having it all. Goodness, aren't we seeing this paradigm in its most grotesque manifestation in our outer world right now?

Yet I believe our emerging paradigm will be all about journeys -- story arcs, if you will -- that are only about going from point A to point B as peacefully and lovingly as possible. Only about positive, beautiful experiences. Only about encountering the best of humanity and nature, and embracing the privilege of being alive. Yes, a lot of my journeys required courage, but not a "gird your loins and get ready to fight" courage. More the courage to face the echoes of other peoples' fears, other peoples' judgments, and the courage of living every day, knowing I might have to face an unexpected accident or even death all alone. I've needed that courage every day of my life, as all of us do.

Where I tried to enter the male construct, and operate within it or by it, and where I tried to embody its expectations, yes, it's been a constant struggle, and I have "achieved" little that is considered lasting, worthwhile, or concrete. Heck, most people consider me an abject failure. But perhaps as a model for a new kind of story, a new kind of journey, it's all been quietly worthwhile after all. What if all of us dropped violence from our personal stories altogether? What if we were to discontinue consuming stories of conflict, in all forms? The world might change overnight. 

Installation

This is a first for my blog. I wrote a post this morning, but it is still in editing phase, so not published yet. Maybe tomorrow or Friday. However, I'm writing this second one, and will publish it immediately because I think it is important in ways I don't quite understand yet.

For the last two hours, I have been watching the live stream of the installation service at Canterbury Cathedral for the first woman Archbishop of Canterbury, Sarah Mullally. 

It was a warm and inspiring service for so many reasons, including the inclusion of African music and readings, girls joining the boys in the choir, prominent roles played by other female clergy, and music by a woman composer to words of medieval mystic Julian of Norwich. Less superficially, the whole scene (a major British cathedral, the pomp and ceremony, the robes, music, processions, rites) remains my core home on a level that just never goes away. I mean, that truth is still with me on this boat of mine, even though old assumptions about how to connect with that milieu seem to have disappeared into the wake behind the boat.

At one point, I think it was as the Archbishop was making her commitment to serve the church, I burst into tears, and sobbed for a good five minutes. This is the first time in a few years I have cried that hard. It wasn't that I wanted to physically be at the cathedral, or even in England, per se. It wasn't that I wished that I were in her position, because I don't, if for no other reason than that I know I am not a Christian and could never operate that far out of my integrity. It wasn't really anger or frustration at being too old to have been able to be a girl chorister. 

I think it was this: as she said her "vows", I did too, only changing the wording. I mean, in my sloppy pink sweatshirt in a living room overlooking the Mohawk River in Upstate New York, I said aloud, "Goddess, I commit myself to Your service." And implicit in that statement is the notion of leadership. Higher leadership. Energetically, the scene on the screen vibrates almost at my wavelength except for one crucial point, my beliefs. After all these years, I cannot wrap my head around how to bridge that divide, except by being me. I've laid down the burden of most of the effort, and most of the "shoulds" or potential steps. Now I have a feeling that the lighter path opening up is one I could never have envisioned in a million years. Just as I'm sure, earlier in her life, the Archbishop could never have envisioned this day.

As I see the path opening up, may I say "yes", and "yes" again, and again...may I have more courage than I feel like I have!

A Story or Two/Travel courage

Another morning when I quite literally have no idea what I am about to talk about! I continue to be in a big lull. Saturday night I slept perhaps too soundly, for at least nine hours straight. I was still in a bit of a daze all day yesterday. The combination of my unburdening, these powerful energies surging in the universe, plus the news, adds to this odd feeling of dislocation. 

So just seconds ago, I decided I would tell a few stories about my solo travels over the years, even though you may have heard some of them. I guess I am doing this to try to remind myself that at least, back then, I was a courageous young woman. (The thought of even entering an airport today seems completely beyond my abilities! Talk about travel courage!) In 1978, I flew to England to see the country that had already figured so large in my life. As I related first in "Choral Evensong" (blog of 10/8/2015), I went directly from the airport to Cambridge, and was in line to hear the church service at King's College probably before I even looked for a bed and breakfast. I have never gotten over the thrill of sitting across a narrow aisle from the famous choir whose sound was already anchored in my heart. Surprisingly, I would only stay in that city one night, hopping on a train again (BritRail Passes were wonderful for making spontaneous travel decisions) to head north toward Scotland. In those days, I had almost as strong of a pull toward the Scottish side of my heritage as I did for England. But as the train drew near the Scottish border, clouds rolled in, rain started, and it would rain the entire time I was there. Between that and the daunting, wild landscape, I never took to Scotland, although I have fond memories of a bed and breakfast dinner table being set chock-a-block full of food just for me, and a ferry ride down the western side of the country. I was relieved to return to somewhat sunnier England.

I'll skip over my year of study at Royal Holloway, although that was certainly an adventure requiring enormous pluck. However, during the university Christmas break, I went by train to Spain to meet my brother, who was going to be spending the spring there. On the train south from Paris, I was in a small compartment with about eight men from Morocco, and then on the train from the Spanish border to Madrid, in a compartment with women carrying baskets of chickens! I still marvel that in those pre-cell phone years, one could actually successfully meet someone on schedule, as I did my brother at the airport.  

But on a later trip to the UK, I was supposed to do some traveling with a British friend, only to find that plans had suddenly changed. When I went to the train station the next morning, I first asked about trains heading south, and then about trains heading north. The bemused stationmaster said to me, "Young lady, if you don't know where you are going, I cannot help you!" Well, I headed north, although I regret now having not taken the opportunity to see Cornwall. 

My solo traveling in the '90's and early 2000's was mostly by car, through the US. Considering that I never had a new car, much money, or on several occasions, a real home to go back to, I marvel at this freedom and, again, my courage. I took a rather mystical approach to the whole thing, sometimes following an eagle, or picking destinations based on passing license plates or bumper stickers. I didn't spend much time doing dangerous things for single women (no bars or solo hikes in the woods), and overall I rarely felt threatened. But looking back from today's vantage point, it seems like it was a whole different, safer, world. I need to plan some small adventure pretty soon, or I may run out of courage entirely. 

These stories aren't quite the "non-conflict" stories I promised you. They're a little more in the nature of "older lady looking back on her life"...Thanks for bearing with me...

Not Surprisingly...

Not surprisingly, after Wednesday's powerful spiritual release and writing yesterday's account of it, I have been a bit like a deer in the headlights. In a daze. A lifelong struggle takes your attention every single day, even when you "fight back" by saying, "my life will not be about this any more" and you search and search for other passions and foci. The energy of struggle gets into your bones, into your cells and organs, and saps your joy...dropping my burden into the metaphorical water has, I think, really happened, and at least temporarily my physical energy level has dropped substantially. I didn't sleep particularly well last night, and the news gets ever more dire, adding to the sense of being drained. 

I don't, yet, see the sparkle on the water, or feel its energetic equivalent in my heart. Nothing could possibly happen that instantaneously, I guess! The harmonic imprint of "my" music lifted me quite high in childhood, and I suspect my soul's unique radio wave hasn't fallen because of dropping my burden. What was shifting all those years was expectations about how, where or whether to express that radio wave. What was a "burden" was not finding a permanent way to harmonize these sounds in a manner that would satisfy me and perhaps help humanity. It was never finding a workable role. It feels very strange to release that intention. But it is also relief. I'm tired. In a time of such enormous change, perhaps the Goddess needs something else from me. Perhaps I've outgrown something, and it's time for something bigger. I don't know yet.

So for a few days, I need to let myself be in this lull. I need to try not to look for the replacement for the burden I've let go of. If any of you are going through a similar process, please know that you are not alone. There has to be a quiet pivot point for mystics undergoing change, even if, not surprisingly, the outside world doesn't work that way!

Into the Wake

I had promised readers a story with no conflict, but I need to ask for a rain check. My bigger promise is to record the path of a modern female mystic, so on this New Moon there is something more timely and more significant to report.

Several of the astrologers and channelers I listen to online have been saying, in effect, "this is the time to lay down that thing you have been fighting for your whole life." February, March and April of 2026 is such a brand new beginning that we cannot carry old baggage forward. Even without this outside feedback, as you know, I have been more fully consolidating and weeding out my few belongings, metaphorically carrying them onto a motor boat which is now speeding down the lake into the future.

And yet...

As you also know, I had not completely released my history with, and passion for, the English cathedral music tradition. In fact, it is only recently that I have fully embraced how much those harmonies have meant to me, and grieved the emptiness of a lifetime largely separated from that world. Somehow -- surely -- I am responsible to bridge the gap between these choral evensong services and the Goddess, for the very reason that I have never found anyone else in that same "intersection". Surely, that has to be at least part of my role going forward. Since this year started, I have thrown a few relevant "Hail Mary" passes, trying to find new ways of embodying this bridging energy, and trying to find the right people to engage with. Nothing has hit the mark.

Yesterday, something happened that I guess you could say is much bigger than me. It wasn't something I specifically did, or intended, or said, or ideated. And I don't think it was directly catalyzed by talks I have heard. It's like, there was this "thud", and something dropped into the water behind me, into the wake of the boat. It wasn't the exquisite beauty of Tallis or Byrd or Howells or Stanford...these are etched on my heart forever, part of my permanent energy transmission. But I think it was the burden of the responsibility to do something about it. I think it was the burden of fighting to make something happen for myself and for all women. I think it might also have been the burden of carrying too small of a notion of what my life is going to be about going forward.

More than anything, I think it was the burden of struggle. This has been a lifetime of struggle on all fronts, from trying to break into an all-male choral tradition, to the struggle to find a workable Plan B, to the struggle to find community and acceptance, to -- eventually -- the struggle simply to survive. I've blathered on about post-duality and unity and "all-Love", but my own life has had conflict and struggle at its core! Damn, damn, damn. I won't apologize, because until now I couldn't see it in that light, but it's certainly mortifying. 

And yet, that reality may well be over. I am pretty sure the burden of that struggle has just dropped into the wake, and floated into the past.

One thing about being out on the water -- when the sun is out, you see the sparkle dancing on the surface. All I know today (literally, all I know today!) is that the energy of sparkle will help me see where I am going...where we are all going. If it doesn't sparkle, it may be too heavy with history, conflict, misery, and responsibility to carry forward into this new age. It may literally be a burden. And if we don't actively lay it down, it may simply jump out of our boat of its own accord!

Conditional

The condition I am referring to here is actually becoming less and less rare...waking up in the morning feeling the distinct calling to write, but not having a specific topic in mind. I feel such an inner sense of the larger energies moving -- in both positive and negative ways -- and writing is the closest thing I do to breathing, so I absolutely need to do it, perhaps now more than ever. So I guess some days I'll just "speak to my own condition", to paraphrase the Quakers. Just start writing and see what happens.

I did not watch the Oscars last night. I have not for many years. These days, I don't see enough movies to make it at all relevant to my life. But this morning, I did hear a few clips from the much-anticipated awards show, and once again mulled over what it might be like to go up onto a stage, speak, and be applauded. This is one of my small jealousies, knowing that on some level I am worthy of positive renown yet am still way on its periphery. I have been patient for decades. But I finally "get" that the ovations I may eventually receive could not have happened in an old paradigm context. I've been invisible because, yes, I have been invisible. I have been inaudible because, yes, I have been inaudible...at my age, I don't think I want acclaim from a place of a bruised ego so much as I do because I so fully believe in what I have been saying for many years!

Interestingly enough, during last night's broadcast, I was actually in a movie theatre, watching an animated film that, for me, was entirely too violent and duality-driven for adults, much less children. (There weren't too many of either in the house, as it turned out.) Yes, the animation was astonishing (and judging from the voluminous credits, the film must have employed many hundreds of people!) Again, some jealousy. When the creative output is about conflict (even conflict towards more "peaceful" ends), it seems to attract at least some viewers and dollars. When it is about a post-conflict world of all-Love, perhaps there is less for most people to grab onto. How all our constructs will soon change, even our models for good written and visual art! Conflict has always been the engine of fiction, non-fiction and even essays. Even for me, it is hard to imagine a book with absolutely no conflict, a film with no conflict, a life with no conflict. But soon that will be our reality. Those of us who can must now gently guide ourselves away from a life referencing duality and war. 

I'm going to give myself a homework assignment. In my next post, I'm going to tell a story with no conflict. I'm going to try to imagine such a thing, at least -- no tension arc reaching up to a climax, no relieving final denouement. No dramatic "saving of the day" or "winning of the race". Simply humans engaging with each other and nature quietly and connectedly. Choirs singing in harmony. Waves of action that are beautiful, even full of contrast, but not "life or death". That speaks fo my condition...

Goddess Words 59: Children

This may be one of the harder Goddess Words pieces I've yet written. I mean, I looked at my list over and over, hoping that another word would jump out at me, but no. Please don't expect too much. It will have taken me several days to work on it, and it still isn't quite right, but I've done my best.

In this lifetime, I never had children. It wasn't a conscious choice, but somehow the early effort to get into the field of English church music, then the subsequent spiritual journey of trying to find my place (and peace) in a world without that harmony at its center, took me far from the traditional mother role. I actually feel quite alienated from the world of children and from the role of mother. Sometimes I think I would have been a pretty good mother -- I would have modeled solid values overall, I'm a reasonably good cook and basic housekeeper, and I think I would have had a lot of love to spare. I would have had fun, especially with babies and very young children. On the other hand, I would definitely have been a feminist challenge to a husband or sons, and I know I would have been overly nervous about trying to keep my children safe in the small picture (trying to prevent them from running into the street, or getting hurt falling off their bike, or worrying every time they used the toaster that they might get burned). Unfortunately, I would still have struggled trying to function within our capitalist system, or worse still, teaching them how to function within it. If for whatever reason I had ended up a single mother, my children might not have experienced the bigger-picture security or normality they would have deserved. Overall, I am relieved that I didn't hurt any young ones that way. My strange existence outside the norm has, for the most part, "hurt" only me. But I won't lie -- it is, well, strange to be a childless woman in our culture. I don't think I am up to the task of explaining this better today, with a mind distracted by war and madness, but it is hard to feel entirely feminine -- or to feel true companionship with other women -- when you don't have this key experience of birthing and nurturing in a given lifetime. It is also hard to fully represent the divine feminine, knowing that motherhood is so key to any notion of the Goddess. And it is hard at my age not to have grandchildren to love and to show off!

Having said this, the Goddess exists not only to birth children and nurture them. She is "mother" not only to human children, but to everything that exists throughout the Universe. The "children" of the Goddess include all of earth's physical bodily landscape, all animals, plants, waters, the stars above, the planets, comets, and even whatever sentient beings may exist throughout all furthermost galaxies. The comfortable image of a nurturing mother surrounded by happy human children is far too small, whether for Her, or for any of us women. 

And in the new paradigm, individual women will give birth to children, of course, but from that point forward, a child's life will not be limited by a small individual family. It also won't be "communal" in a top-down way. Wise members of the community will engage with children from early in their lives, discovering their strongest gifts, and guiding them to the kind of education and early direction suitable to the individual child. Young people will eventually study for and pursue adult lives that they are passionate about; in a world whose currency is love, not money, there won't be institutions or corporations at the top of the pyramid dictating society's overall direction. People, from childhood, will always be encouraged to "be themselves". They will also engage intimately with Nature. "Education" will be more about a child becoming part of his or her natural world, and less about learning about human history and institutions. It will be more about one's inner Nature (one's innate psychic, healing and spiritual abilities) than about outward human-constructed religions, medicine, and politics. And children won't ever un-learn how to love. Duality and conflict won't enter their education or their lives.

Children are important to the Goddess. In the emerging age, young people will be naturals at actively modeling Her values (love, beauty, right brain synchronicity, awe, inner power, etc.)  They will simply be less and less interested in taking the kinds of career paths we "old people" felt limited to and struggled with. The paradigm is completely shifting in this regard. And the Love of the Goddess is so profound, I don't know if any of us can yet grasp how different the world will be when it is fully unleashed throughout the galaxy. How different children will be, almost from the moment of their birth. Their wisdom and love light will shine almost unbearably brightly from day one...undoubtedly they will be our teachers before too long!