Again, Again

Back in May of 2017, I wrote a post called "Again" in response to an act of mass violence, and numerous times since then I have made at least brief comments about these events. On most of the occasions, it has seemed that so much was being said by so many, that there was little healing to be had in adding to the cacophony. Yet today some thoughts were on my mind upon awakening, so I'll do my best to share them, not in the spirit of fixing the problem or blaming or solving...just, what would shift the conflict energy that we are stuck in?

We all know this deep down -- there can be little success trying to fix what is outside ourselves. The only true solutions are within each of us individually. Are we at peace with ourselves, with friends and family? Are we at peace with the kind of work we do, how we live, how we spend time? Are we at peace with absolutely every nook and cranny of our lives, and with our larger history? There are personal places I get stuck, some of which I have spoken about in this blog, and then in the larger history of our country and the world, which I don't speak about as often. What inwardly causes me the most pain is to face the violence of the early "settlement" of North America, the revolution that bought our "freedom", and the violence of the move westward. The violence toward the people, plants, and non-human beings new settlers encountered, the violence inherent in the creation of roads, dams, cities, train tracks and mines. The violence toward the earth Herself. The violence in our political, economic, social, and medical systems and our language. The violence (real and diplomatically muffled) in our relationships with the rest of the world. The violence in our sports and "play", the violence in how we produce food and other manufactured items, and the violence in our relationships with the deep oceans and vast outer space. 

This is a yes-based universe, I am sure of it (I think this is an Abraham-Hicks-ism). So it's hard for me to see how anger and blame expressed outward -- even understandable movements for specific changes -- will cause the desired effect, especially in this Age of Aquarius. If the energy of a response is itself too violent or confrontational, it is likely to beget more violence and confrontation. What may shift the energy, though, will be for individuals to look inward, and really look honestly at the ways in which conflict and violence are part of our communal history as well as our own personal stories. Look unflinchingly. Accept the reality. Do whatever work we need to do to heal our personal trauma and pain, so that our role as a ripple effect will end. Then move ahead with a complete and utter commitment to harmony in every area of life. Not everyone can do this. Some may have to keep fighting -- this may be the divine agreement they made before this incarnation. But some of us have already released "the fight", and more and more will do the same every day as this Age continues. As higher levels of Love enter our universe, the violence around us may seem to be becoming more frenzied, but before long, it will wilt and die from lack of oxygen. There will be too much Love.

Yesterday, I sent photos of beauty to my friends in Minnesota who I knew might be particularly distressed right now. I had been to Schenectady's rose garden, and so mostly I sent pictures of roses. Making the choice to spread beauty in this moment was just about all I could do. Again, again.

Three Revelations

I had gathered from various astrology sources that this past weekend's new moon was going to be powerful, and it certainly was for me. How about you?

In a conversation on Thursday, I came to a realization about the so-called prosperity gospel (about which I really know virtually nothing except that it is a "thing" in some churches) and its new age cousin, where you try to gain prosperity or success through visualization and other techniques. The latter is something I tried on and off over the years. Both of these cases represent ego-driven effort. It is all about personal success, achievement or material gain. In a flash, I realized not only why the new age version hadn't worked for me, but why such beliefs may actually be inconsistent with Goddess thinking. Does the Goddess want every human being to reach their fullest creative, spiritual, joy, love, and beauty potentials? Yes. But our individual efforts to gain personal worldly success, wealth, land, belongings, and status have brought humanity to the edge of ecological disaster. Wanting so much for ourselves (and in some cases, our families) -- outside of any community context, or concern for the health and future viability of the planet itself -- goes over the edge into pure selfishness. All of us in the West have been brought up immersed in this basic ethos, and I guess even for someone like me, it took far too long to disengage and see what it is doing to the Earth. A more Goddess-centered way of thinking would consider any action's toll on the planet, and how all of us, as the broader community of humans, can blossom. It would never be just about "success for me". (Revelation number one.}

Then, on Saturday, I was in a setting with multiple tall pine trees whose trunks were bare of branches. Two trees had been, I guess you could say, decorated in a manner I have never seen before. At about the five foot mark, both tree trunks had plastic-covered chain "necklaces" with a central metal plaque, saying that they (the plaques or the trees?) had been given in memory of so-and-so. This struck me as grotesque. What had these trees done to warrant being enchained? Visually, the trees look constricted, suffocated; all of this was done for the ego gratification of a person or a family. "My tree. A tree in my honor." On an energetic level, binding it didn't seem too far away from taking a chainsaw to it -- in either case, the tree was allowed no agency. The tree was never asked for permission, just as Nature generally isn't. (The thought wasn't a revelation to me, but the image of a tree in chains was. Number two.)

Then lastly, the big one. Saturday evening I watched something on public TV about tombs and fragments being discovered under the transept crossing floor at Notre Dame de Paris, as the building is rebuilt. The cathedral's original choir screen was knocked down several hundred years ago, and, evidently, simply floored over. For the most part, English cathedrals still have their choir screens, whose original purpose was, of course, to literally screen or separate the choir and clergy taking part in the service from the parishioners down in the nave. It created a higher, holier space where the official acts of worship took place...and it was a space for the tiniest elite. Few men and boys -- and no women or girls -- could go through that beautifully-decorated portal.

Now, I've known about this history, of course. How could I not? However, over the years, my focus was on the music, wanting to sing it, to learn the repertoire, to be an active participant in the choral part of worship (yes, even though my concept of the divine was decidedly broader than the church's!) But watching this documentary, I had an epiphany. This wasn't just about singing. This was about being "allowed" near the heart of the divine. This was about being in the holy presence, not on the outskirts. When I've said that my home is in the choir stalls of British cathedrals, this was arguably about a lot more than wanting to march in, robed, to sing a service. It was about being empowered in the divine, and embraced by the divine, in a much broader sense. Think of all the girls and women throughout northern European history who stood or sat in the naves of cathedrals and churches, knowing they would never play an active part in any ritual, in any capacity. While this has changed in some denominations in recent years, it was a weighty third revelation nonetheless.

Maybe, just maybe, I tried to go through that portal not just for me, but also for all those women in the centuries before me. Maybe, just maybe, this hasn't only been about my own ego. 

Be the Love Anchor (or Anchoress!)

Early yesterday morning, I was mulling over something, and it relates somewhat to my post on magnetizing. This essay has morphed a bit over twenty-four hours, and updates some earlier material, I'm sure. Thanks for your patience.

Here it is. All of us have been taught that to "get" anything, we need to look outside ourselves and "apply" or compete. We apply for summer jobs, college programs, grants, career jobs, and even volunteer work. People apply for car loans, mortgages, credit cards, and insurance. People (in effect) apply to find roommates, apartments, dates, spouses. We create a persona to sell ourselves on social media and to win in games. Companies "apply" for our patronage with advertising and strange gimmickry. All of us, whether we know it or not, or want to or not, have been energetic fisherfolk, constantly throwing baited hooks out into rapidly-flowing rivers to see what bites. And I think subconsciously, most of us have tried to form ourselves into the person appropriate to the situation -- the appealing employee, the appealing mate, the appealing renter, the appealing corporate entity, whatever. In such a setting, a process like the one I have gone through, diving down and in to a core of true personal identity, can seem both irrelevant and impossible. It has even felt that way to me.

So (as I think I alluded to the other day) it's no surprise that even now, I keep trying to look outside of myself for the tribe of people just like me. As I look to my periphery, I see a wide range of "tribes", most of which have at least a bit of overlap to me: environmentalists, feminists, peace activists, healers, astrologers, channelers, shamans, historians, archaeologists, musicians, artists, and gardeners/farmers. There is a facet of myself in each of these "places", but none of them are -- per se -- my encompassing home or tribe. When I reach out and think, finally, "home!", it isn't...quite.

Why? The missing piece in most of these groups is an essential Goddess-focus, a core set of assumptions about what life would look like if the divine feminine were honored. And having come to believe that I may have spent many lifetimes holding the energy of the Goddess in the British Isles (and in positions that kept me near the center of the spiritual and academic worlds there), I still cannot move forward without that piece in place. I may recently have recycled much of the material I held onto to document this lifetime's journey, but it doesn't mean that I've thrown away my passions or identity -- only the assumption that I will need certain physical material in the future. The Goddess-England-English Church Music "intersection" is my unique raft on the river, the lens that I look through and am. It's not working to cast out a hook or a shout-out to say, "Hello, here I am, pick me for your group!" Just as I doubt it would work to cast out the hook to "catch" people for a group of my own.

Yes, it's so frustrating. Have you experienced it? Is your "intersection" equally unusual? For those of us in this position, the only course may be to pull our little boat into the stillest bay of the roiling river, and put our anchor down at least for now. From there (speaking for myself) I must just do the things I do best and love -- write, sketch, listen to choral evensong services or talks by the wisest people I can find, read (often about England), cook, bake, and do things occasionally with friends. Take pictures of nature with my little flip phone. Commune with animal beings (a hummingbird hovered about two feet from my face yesterday!). "Be" love, the best that I can be. And see who or what shows up when I anchor down!

Be the Love Anchor. 

 

Goddess Words 48: Magnetize

When in doubt, a Goddess word. (I woke up wanting to write, but I didn't know about what.)

Those of us who, over the last few decades, have consumed a fair amount of "New Age" material have a pretty good take on magnetizing. The idea is that if you clearly articulate intentions or goals, or if you visualize your preferred outcome, you will draw to you what you want. There were times when I tried (and tried and tried) to magnetize the practicalities of life -- better income, a job that would at least be somewhat interesting, a car. And yet I rarely had good results. I was (and am!) grateful that I have so often had a softish landing when I jumped out of the proverbial plane, but it's almost laughable how the old fashioned way (hard work ethic, and flooding employers with resumes) never worked for me, and the new age paradigm didn't really either. 

I am becoming convinced that the Goddess absolutely does magnetize, but in a different way. I think what magnetizes is the overall quality of your energy field, not specific actions or intentions. That this mirror, so to speak, senses absolutely every emotion within us, and bounces them back to us with amazing speed and precision. Now the gurus have been saying a variation of this all along, right? If you want a new car, but deep down you feel unworthy, then it will be nearly impossible to magnetize the latest model. However, the way that I think Goddess energy is different is this: in a Goddess-centered reality, I don't think it would be possible under any circumstances to magnetize a sporty new car or a mansion on the Pacific, because those goals were not created by entities (or within a paradigm) that worked with the Goddess from a place of Love. They are for the most part the products of a desire for profit or power. I sense that the only way to magnetize going forward, especially for some of us, will be to immerse ourselves in feeling Love, harmony, beauty, truth -- and wait to see where we are led. Perhaps the only "specific" requests we can make are ones like this: How can I more effectively spread Love? Where is the best community of Love? How can I make Love my only currency and my only home?

I say this as I am in the midst of learning this lesson again, the hard-ish way. In true Transitional mode, I've put any number of things "out there" in the last month or so, applications, or letters to appropriate people in the kind of direction I wish to go, etc. etc. And nothing bounces back. The old me feels the old frustration. But now that it's becoming clearer and clearer that these actions cannot catalyze, my energy is doing that, I'll focus on that in upcoming weeks!

There is an intriguing parallel thread to this: the power of the magnetism of our belongings. As I go through the rest of my boxes, I have experienced firsthand what a powerful experience it is to give away things that are literally and figuratively too old, and no longer vibrating at my current wavelength. In the past, some of this material might have brought up anger, shame and worthlessness (and those emotions definitely tried to emerge even now), but most of the time I'm in a place of near joy. "Thank you, experience A, B or C, but I'm done with that facet of my formation, and it's time to move on." Perhaps not surprisingly, some of the possibilities I was considering for my life even a month or two ago now feel out of the question. I'm done. I've graduated from that academy, or that, or that, and no longer need the refresher course -- or the objects that represent them. I would never recommend tossing belongings because you wish to make spiritual progress -- it's more likely to be the other way around. If you've made the spiritual progress and you look at an item and there is no spark of life to it anymore, the time has come to find another home for it. If it has been blocking your forward movement, it's less likely to continue to do that as you magnetize your new energy. 

On a (seemingly) unrelated topic, yesterday there was a sunrise unlike any I have ever seen (admittedly, I may only see the actual sunrise only a few times a month). The sun's disc was brilliant red. I mean, red. Not orange, or red-orange, or reddish-blue. Fiery, bloody, red. There were no clouds, and the sky around it was pale yellowish-blue. The color reflected briefly on the window screen, but after about two minutes the whole effect morphed into a more normal dawn hue. While I didn't fall into a fear-filled place (that this was an omen, perhaps?) I noticed it. Gaia was speaking. What was She saying?

The Black Balloon

OK, so in my last post, I spoke of how dearly I wish to have my portrait painted. (I was reminded again of how much of my truth has been the opposite of my surface life: arguably, I haven't wanted to write about Herbert Howells or any other musician, I've wanted to be written about. I haven't wanted to live in other peoples' houses, I've wanted my own home. I haven't wanted to paint portraits, I've wanted to be painted, etc.) I breezily said it might take a day or two to process my experience with the TV program about portrait painting, and yet within a few hours of writing the post, I came "this close" to taking it down completely, something I have never done. Why? Because I was horrified by the potential narcissism of saying I want to be the subject of a portrait. The narcissism of wishing to be seen.

When you are the daughter of a father who is an off-the-scales narcissist, and you finally understand that reality, any sign that you might be in the same league is terrifying. And, of course (a related point?), we women are far more used to being the object, not the subject.

A metaphor came to me. It's a bit belabored, but forgive me. I realize that when I was a child, it felt like I was an empty black hole -- a black balloon, perhaps -- attached to my father's face. Surely, I thought, if I was literally right in front of his eyes, he'd see me. If I could play the organ well, or get good grades, or sing beautifully, or create beautiful art, maybe he would finally actually see me. But those charming, friendly-looking eyes simply couldn't see me, no matter my proximity. His ears could not hear me. With perhaps one or two exceptions over the years, my accomplishments were greeted (if at all) with a bland, "That's nice." When I first started my blog, he read two or three of the first posts, and then told me it was very nice, but he didn't understand a word I was saying. Yes, he too had a genius IQ, but my form of the written language was beyond him.

The other part of being the black balloon on your dad's face (thereby being somewhat of a leech in my own right I am mortified to grasp) is that he didn't breathe life into me, he sucked it out, sucked me dry. I was his source of oxygen (and, presumably, others were too), so my little balloon was perpetually depleted and lifeless. And because I would go out into a world that is, itself, horrifyingly like my dad, I remained rudderless and ultimately empty in this balloon-like black hole. He died in 2018, coincidentally (?) the year I returned to Duluth, and I appreciate this morning what a perfect place that was to go through the process of starting to see myself through my own eyes, and to breathe through my own nose. This dire condition undoubtedly continues down the generations simply because people can never fully actualize as their own genuine person, so the next generation cannot, and the next, and the next. Whoever we really are doesn't feel valid, or worthy of being seen, heard, or experienced, and this affects everyone around us. To the extent that my existence in this black balloon may have harmed anyone around me, I am excruciatingly sorry.

Still, even in that context, I am so glad that I didn't remove the previous post. Rather than being negative, a case could be made that it is one of the healthiest posts I've ever written. That I could finally take pleasure in being me, and look forward to seeing how other artistic and sensitive people might interpret me in a painting, has to be a step forward -- as long as it is something I would wish for other people too (and I do!) May all of us who have lived under this kind of shadow finally come out into the light, to be fully seen, appreciated, celebrated. May all of our colors and perspectives reveal our deeper Source of Love. And I welcome the Goddess out on that stage with us. How many facets of Her loving persona can we celebrate today? It is time to be the subjects of our own portrait, and to see Her as the primary subject of earth's portrait.

 

A New Painting

In my previous post (the last of my first decade of writing), I referred to the Goddess painting a new painting in our world, and here I am in the first post in a new decade, writing about painting again. Just at the moment when I have been finding homes for old art supplies, weeding out my old paintings and those of my grandmother, I think I have finally accepted that (in this lifetime) I was not meant to be a famous painter. It hung over my head for years that "if only I had a big studio", I could do the work I want to do, but, no, of course, it works the other way around. You have to be compelled from within to paint, paint, paint, and then you must find the right studio. From early in my time at Parsons in the 1980's, I knew two things. I was only studying art because there was no chance (at that time) that women would ever get to sing English church music at the highest levels, and I had to express beauty somehow. And two, that I didn't have the same passion for art as I did for English church music. I dutifully fulfilled my homework assignments with ease and skill. Art flowed out of me -- I had a teacher who was convinced that I had been one of the great masters in an earlier lifetime (Add that to my list!) And yet...it was almost too easy. I didn't long to paint, I didn't need to paint. It wasn't fulfilling, or compelling as a goal for this lifetime. Thus no studio, thus at 69 the giving away of old easels and canvases. My artistic outlet at the moment is tiny hand-drawn postcards, and that is enough.

So, in the midst of this frothy eddy of old expectations and belongings and current realities, what do I discover on TV? A series that is hardly new -- UK "Portrait Artist of the Year". Somehow, though, I never saw it, either over there or over here. And last night and early this morning, I binge-watched big time, riveted. Just riveted. I had to really become clear with myself -- do I miss painting? No, absolutely not. And I recognize that I never really gained much skill in portraiture -- the likenesses these artists achieved were sometimes staggering. But I knew that world inside and out. I loved thinking, what approach would I take? What composition would work best? What color palette would I use? How did they do that? I was pretty good at picking each episode's three finalists, but in the end I was surprised by the season winner, and yet pleasantly so. 

And last but not least, in true topsy-turvy Liz style, I knew what was drawing me in. I want to have a brilliant portrait done OF ME. I want to have three or six or eight artists arrayed in front of me, painting different facets of me, seeing me, perhaps revealing me to the world. I don't want to paint, I want to be painted. I want to be seen in that way! That certainly is a new painting, isn't it? I mean, I've reached this turning point before, but not quite so emphatically. And I don't know what it means spiritually or metaphorically, but maybe I will by tomorrow.

At ten years, the last of the old words

Tomorrow, August 8, is the ten year anniversary of this blog. I'm so proud of this accomplishment. It is perhaps (along with my early efforts to open up the world of English cathedral music to myself and other girls and women) my greatest achievement. I have grown and changed so much this last decade...and of course my life hasn't brought me success, renown or income! Some days, it takes a great deal of courage to continue on at 69.

But I hope to do just that. And moving forward, my goal is to make these posts increasingly Goddess- (and Aquarian Age-) aligned. Before I do that, there is one last bit of negative, "old" business I want to tackle, one last duality-based word that comes to me almost from the moment I wake until the moment I fall asleep: "affront". 

The other day, as I waited for a friend to check out at a pharmacy, I found myself crammed in between two metal carousels of plastic toys, each wrapped in plastic. Within seconds, I was envisioning all these toys -- and most of the thousands of other plastic items in this one store -- bobbing around as trash in the ocean. I had to physically restrain myself from screaming like a banshee and running from the building. 

If plastic were the only thing I find offensive about modern life, that would be my "cause", but it isn't the only thing. In fact, as I have alluded to before, it is hard for me to find any aspect of our modern world that isn't an affront to what I believe are the values of the Goddess. The list is almost endless: war, weapons, conflict of all kinds, development sprawl, toxic chemicals, power over, profit...I mean, at the very least it is all an insult to me, which is probably why I have functioned so poorly. When I try to imagine the Great Mother's expanded vantage point on it all, it takes my breath away. For thousands of years, we did not take Her needs and wellbeing into consideration -- so of course this neglect has led to this overheated, shaking moment. Affront after affront after affront, a train of pain, roaring down the track with no brakes.

And of course, to those who see it all differently, I am the affront. I am the one who never bought into the norm.

In the larger picture, I don't worry about any of it. Love is going to take care of revealing what needs healing, and She will have the "last word" to catalyze that healing. Who-fought-who and what-was-an-affront-to-whom will no longer matter in upcoming years. We are leaving that place of duality and conflict, heck, we are leaving history, almost literally. But if people wonder what went wrong, why is all of this happening, all they need to do is go to the store and look at the plastic. Really look at it as future garbage. We didn't think ahead, and we thought we could keep out-inventing all our problems. But that wasn't possible, and the moment of truth has finally come. So it is time to let go, and let the Goddess repaint this picture.

A new era beginneth, just in time for a new decade of writing. And a fresh new way of being. Time to shrug off these old affronts, and simply glory in being at one with Love.

Goddess Words 47: Wow

Hmm..."wow." An exclamation in response to something amazing, surprising, huge (my definition). Why I added it to my list of Goddess words all those years ago, I'm not entirely sure, except that I probably sensed that some of the manifestations of increased Goddess energy in the world would be amazing, surprising and huge. This seems to have been the quintessential "wow" week, up and down the scale. 

I haven't tried in any serious way to keep up with all the new discoveries and changes in astronomy, physics, new underwater life forms, and emerging evidence of earlier civilizations. I basically just scan the headlines. But, wow. I mean, wow!

Then, that 8.8 earthquake (and the many that seem to have preceded and followed it, if I understand correctly). Sure, it's remarkable that there was as little damage as there was, and that immediate fears around the Pacific Rim quickly faded. However, Gaia is waking up. There have always been volcanos, earthquakes, and tsunamis, but what we will see in the next few years will be "wow"-worthy on a whole new level. Like many of us, She is changing from the inside out, so expect the landscape to keep evolving before our very eyes.

The world and national news isn't necessarily a "wow" to me -- almost nothing surprises me that much, I'm sorry to say -- but its clarity is pretty stunning. Truth is emerging from under the surface in a way that can no longer be ignored or misunderstood. Everything is connected, "as above, so below", right? Talk about landscapes changing. These political, social, economic, religious, and educational landscapes will undoubtedly continue to morph, and morph again.

On a personal level, this week's "wow" was how I was hit by the enormity of my recent trip to Duluth and paring down my (still relatively few) belongings by 2/3. This week, from the same internal "place", I started to go through my remaining few boxes back here. This was the core of my memorabilia, my "if-someone-ever-writes-a-biography-of-me, they'll-need-to-see-this" STUFF. Over the years, most of it has constantly been in storage, partly because I couldn't bear to deal with it. Here's an example: From 7th through 10th grade, I attended St. Agnes School in Loudonville (near Albany, which no longer exists in its original form). In a pile of papers, I stumbled on not one, but two or three letters from the school, dated from 1958-64 or so, indicating that I'd been essentially pre-accepted to the school based on some "friend (or relative) of a friend" thing between my grandfather's second wife and the headmistress at the time. I mean, strange, interesting even, but I did not actually enroll until 1968, which is all that matters. Is the minuscule weight of these letters and envelopes worthy of continued storage as we head into the Aquarian age? No. Ditto elementary school report cards; all but one of the six or so copies I kept of my Smith College commencement program; and the heavy 1960's-era photo album of my first trip abroad. You remember those awful books with sticky pages and clear plastic covers holding the snapshots in place? I pulled out about 15 of the photos, the itinerary, and the group photo, and tossed out the rest.

It's liberating. This lifetime has been fascinating, terrifying, and unusual, and I will carry it forward with me. But now I feel literally less laden down and defined by it than I ever have. The question I keep asking myself is, "Will this item help me navigate the paradigm we are entering?" By the end of the next few weeks, with only a few nostalgic exceptions, I will be down to just the belongings I think may be relevant to my role moving forward. If even these eventually prove to be too heavy, they will go too.

So that brings me to my previous post, and I guess it is all related. By finally openly acknowledging my belief that my "life" has had an arc of thousands of years, not just dozens, my current incarnation makes a lot more sense. It isn't diminished, just contextualized. It takes a certain je ne sais quoi to feel like one is called to speak for the Goddess, and it made no sense at all as I persisted in thinking of myself as a "little girl from Schenectady". But each toss into the recycling pile has liberated me from that limitation, and speaking out in this way now seems like the work I have been leading up to for a long, long time. It is a relief.

Wow.