Temptation

This has been an odd two days in Duluth. Finally, hot (by most standards anyway), but exceedingly heavy smoke from western Canada has socked in. Yesterday was the first day that my eyes, nose and throat were burning. Starting about noon, the sun literally looked red. It remains dry, and the wind was almost literally blowing tumbleweeds down the street. Yet my home turf of upstate New York, the Champlain Valley, and Vermont is being overwhelmed with water. More on that some other day.

Yes, I am reframing a lot of assumptions based on my growing awareness that most aspects of the divine feminine manifest in the world as the opposite of the manmade constructs in place. This past week, a very tempting opportunity arose, and I have been in rather a dither over whether to pursue it. The newest incarnation of me is examining it much more closely than I might have in the past.

Those of us brought up Christian may have said the words of the Lord's Prayer thousands of times: "Lead us not into temptation". We were imploring God to keep "sin" far from us (although it is rather interesting that this particular wording seems to imply that it is God himself doing the tempting!) When major male spiritual figures have been faced with temptation, it seems to have come in the form of earthly power, sex, addictions, money, violence, and so forth -- and I suppose, speaking only for myself, that when I said the Lord's Prayer as a young woman, those were the kinds of sins I assumed might eventually tempt me too, even though now, late in life, I can't say they ever have.

So I'm now wondering if the "temptations" that face women are generally far more subtle, and contrary. I'm wondering if we are sometimes "tempted" to keep reaching for the good outside ourself, not believing it isn't in us already.

This week, I learned about an event that, on first glance, I dearly wish to attend. It will be taking place far from Minnesota, and yet I wasn't daunted by that any more than I have been many times over the years, in trips to England or California, for instance. (For the moment, I'll stay quite general about this until I have made some final decisions.) Especially in the wake of having metaphorically "packed my bags" over the last month or so, my logical brain said, this is what you were packing for, Liz. Go for it!

But I held off, and I guess I am glad I did. Several layers of important pro-and-con considerations came into my consciousness, and I am in the middle of addressing them. 

Ultimately, it boils down to this: this event is someone else's "dog and pony show". That certainly doesn't make it invalid. But I've reached the point where I have to ask: what is a better way to expend what little courage (and money) I have? By making last-minute arrangements to attend this thing, or by creating my own "dog and pony show"?! Will I, once again, be trying to fit into someone else's vision rather than expressing my own? Will I be reaching for love, validation and recognition that I first need to give myself? 

As a woman, I am too used to being forced out of my comfort zone into participating in constructs that feel wrong for me, knowing that it might be the only way to survive in our culture. The temptation -- nay, the imperative -- to leave your core truths behind is constant. It's not some leering devil trying to lead you astray...it is friends, family, the media, the entire culture, dictating a norm and trying to pressure you into it. It is only at age 67 that I finally feel it when my inner vibration and my outer experiences match -- or don't. If they don't completely match, whenever I am making a decision large or small, may I have the courage to stay where and who I am, stay thankful, and know I am serving the divine She in my own way, however I ultimately choose to proceed. May I stay calm. May I not add to the storms around me.

Looking Back

One of the strangest/hardest parts of my life has been the impression I have often had that I am a being of the future, "looking back" at the present, or perhaps existing in both realities simultaneously. Our current culture has always seemed so very, very antiquated in many respects, which is only a small part of why I found it so hard to navigate. But I can well imagine people of the future, sitting in a circle, trying in vain to understand how multiple human civilizations all over the world lived under the delusion that they were more powerful than the larger powers of creation. Even individuals felt that way! It will seem impossible that humans were so blind as to ignore the true value and beauty of their earth home -- until it was too late.

Of course, in the end, there will be no "too late" in the sense of complete annihilation. Earth (and all its beings) are in the process of incorporating a major surge of higher spiritual and physical energies. Love is entering and moving through the universe more intensively than ever before. Even putting aside all the upheaval of global climate change, and the other upheavals that will accompany it, a future earth (say, only a century or two from now) will look very different from today because of that higher spiritual tuning, but some people and constructs vibrating on a loving wavelength will be recognizable.

If I had children or grandchildren, what would I tell them now? I would do a visualization with them, where they imagine that they are in a surprising, emptier, mysterious future earth. I would try to walk them through the fears they are feeling, then try to get to the core of what they think a completely new society could look like. If I am not mistaken, many of them would want to start with love and a sense of belonging, and build outwards from there. Since love will be the path from here to there, many young people may be on it already! (And a few of us elders, too....)

Me, Grandmother

Yesterday evening, I took part in a multigenerational picnic, and I had so much fun, I was still glowing happily about it this morning. I was trying to figure out why it seemed so unusual. Of course part of it is that it allowed my brain to stop thinking deep thoughts and just be in the present, laughing and eating with other people. That is a rarity! Part of it is not being a mother or a grandmother, and rarely taking part any more in big family meals. And part of it was realizing that for several years, even outdoor gatherings like this were COVID-awkward. I remember in the height of the pandemic, probably January of 2021, taking part in an outside neighborhood get-together around a bonfire. It was 0 degrees F or so, and while the kids were running around and having a good time, we adults were sitting in chairs spaced well apart, masked or with scarves covering our faces, trying unsuccessfully to talk or drink a soda or beer. Even until recently, I still found gatherings a bit hard, but finally, three summers later, the rough edges of fear seem to be wearing away, certainly in the out-of-doors. 

Another thing is, I was by far the oldest person there, by a good dozen years. A snapshot taken showed me with a halo of white hair -- overall, it's very long now and quite brown, but the white hair is concentrated in the front, of course. I don't mind being the oldest person, but in my vanity, I hate looking like the oldest person! Plus, I was one of the only people in a chair...(!) I guess that made me the unofficial grandmother of the gathering. But in the end, that makes me smile.

I've thought of my Schenectady grandmother quite a bit recently. I think I have previously mentioned that there are photographs of her, oil painting on the rocks in Kennebunkport, Maine, wearing a large, white, floppy-brimmed hat, and that's the kind of hat I wear about town in the summer. The bus drivers recognize me and wave sometimes from across the street! When I was sitting on the rocks near Lake Superior the other day, it was Agnes that I was embodying. And Grandma had a singsong way of speaking sometimes when she told us (her grandchildren) to do something -- I particularly remember, "Eat your beanies" when I was slow to finish my lima beans. I find myself speaking in somewhat the same voice when I speak to dogs and small children (sorry kids!) Most of all, she loved being surrounded by beauty, paintings, books of paintings, art and needlework of all kinds. Ditto, me.

When I said the other day that I'm moving forward carrying far less of the weight of history, it's a reminder: I happily, and proudly, carry "her"story, the threads of connection to my foremothers and their energies. If we are looking for things to "save" the planet as we reach ever higher global temperatures, we only have to look to our grandmothers and their grandmothers. I am so thankful for an unexpected moment of fun, love, good food, and connection, and for embodying a thread in a rich, beautiful weaving that goes back to the dawn of time.

That Independent Feeling

I'm a little too sleepy this morning to be tackling what I think I will be tackling, given the loud on-and-off fireworks nearly all night last night.  It is impossible for me to grasp why recreating the sounds of war is the preferred way of "celebrating" the birth of our country...but I'll let that go for now.

No, I wanted to remind myself (and my readers) about something I said a month or two ago: that I wished to have at least a metaphorical roller bag ready to go after July 4th weekend. That I suspected something new would be afoot by now. And even though it isn't quite manifesting in the way I might have expected, that turned out to be the truth. Because I'm limited in my funds, there's no actual new roller bag in my closet, or more than one or two new pieces of clothing or jewelry (bought at a rummage sale). And some of my boxes remain "out east", which is fine. I haven't bought any plane tickets. To look at me, you wouldn't see a major change from May. But inside, the changes are like an earthquake. Or (ahem!) more earthquakes and tsunamis than usual with me.

A few weeks ago, my dresser display consisted of a selection of photos of English cathedrals, cards from friends, and driftwood from Lake Superior. While not completely "intentional", I think I was trying to merge the sides of me in a visual way. In mid-June, I knew it was time to change this display. I pulled everything off, cleaned and dusted the dresser top, and started over. Interestingly enough, not one item in the new configuration visually refers to England, the cathedrals, the music, anything from that tradition. In the center is a greeting card I bought locally which essentially says, "Only be yourself". It is surrounded by other greeting cards, small bits of artwork, and oracle cards of nature: owls, crows, forests, moons, lakes and stars. The driftwood, too, remains.

This is, not coincidentally perhaps, at the same time that I am re-reading the monumental book about Salisbury, England -- Sarum, by Edward Rutherford. He goes back thousands of years, and envisions the people and historical events of their eras. I am only about halfway through the book, to the building of the cathedral there. And in a process that may have started when I watched the recent coronation, I am feeling much more viscerally than ever the fact that all of the major threads of that country's history are -- literally -- "his" story. Intellectually, I've always known that, of course. But a younger me had to find something in this world to find beautiful, engaging, like a home. I didn't want to dig too far under the surface (even when I enjoyed watching shows like "Time Team"!) If I saw beauty, I didn't want to know the hard truths under the surface. 

Suddenly, now that on a feeling level I am beginning to identify the genuine peace and beauty of a Goddess construct, the events of history (even presented in such an epic and humane way) feel overwhelmingly violent. Whether in my mind's eye, or on TV, or seeing drone photography from above, or through oil paintings, I may never be able to look at England again as my "safe place". As is the case basically all over the world, virtually everything on its proverbial map is manmade, and created with beliefs about the use of the landscape, spirituality, the economy, and relations between peoples and countries, that I don't really share. Does that mean I'll never go back? Not necessarily. But in my head, I'll need to find the "place" where women and earth were/are valued. 

And if there isn't such a place, then I go forward with that energy within me. Since almost all my (few) belongings have to do with history, especially my books, it will be easy to pare back when the moment comes. My "roller bag" will be light. My independent feeling comes from being less tethered to the past than ever. I don't think history or our current constructs will help us too much in the coming years...

The Blank Stare

What I am starting with may seem to be a non sequitur to the things I've been talking about, but it's not. Bear with me.

I've referred a few times to my Dad, and how I finally "got" (a few years before his death in 2018) that he was virtually incapable of human feeling. It is a lesson, of course, that keeps reverberating. As I get older, I find I am relating more and more to the energetic reality under the surface of everything. The energy dynamic in relating to him was -- me, saying something with feeling (worry, compassion, fear, love), and him, looking at me with a blank stare and then looking away. The last time I saw him, I wanted to talk with him about my brother who had passed away. I asked him, "What did you like about him?" And Dad just stared at me uncomprehendingly and changed the subject. Friends have tried to excuse this or explain it, thinking he might have had dementia or another condition. But I am convinced that this was not the case. I look back decades to my poor mom, trying to get Dad to explain some of the impossible situations he was getting the family into. She would be crying, yelling, pleading with him to just talk with her, and he wouldn't do it. She finally sank into a state of numbness that, on one level, never went away. I wish I had better understood the situation before she died...

Once in a blue moon, the blank stare would crack, and he would explode in rage. In my late twenties, after I had moved to New York City and was in therapy for the first time, I made the mistake of mentioning it on a visit home to my parents, completely in the context of wanting to understand my life better and bring more love into our family. Dad erupted. This was too much of a direct threat to him, I guess, and he essentially threw me out, telling me never to return. Trying to get from the shores of Lake Champlain to the next bus or train south was a challenge -- but for about three years I did, indeed, have little-to-no-contact with my parents. When my mom inherited a little money and they were able to move out of state and buy a small year-round house, I slowly tried to re-enter the family. But I still didn't understand until way too late that just about all the actual emotional effort was on my part.

To say that I have replicated this same energetic construct over and over again is an understatement (!) But I am also wondering if it has to do with much larger issues. What it has felt like to be a creative, artistic, feeling, woman facing, if you will, the impenetrable wall of our patriarchal system -- begging to use my best gifts and be supported for who I am, not for what I can do to further its goals -- is the same complete frustration, the same sense of "the lights are on but no one is home". And it may be fanciful to do this, but I envision Nature trying to get humanity's attention about the environment. She loves Earth with a passion, and wants us to understand the kind of danger it is in. Yet with some notable exceptions, we are staying deaf and blind to her pleading. We are giving Her the blank stare.

If I am particularly hard on Artificial Intelligence, I think this is at the root of it. I don't think it will ever be possible for such "intelligence" to have a heart. The humanity in most of us will always be met with a kind of blank stare. They can program in artificial heartiness, friendliness, and helpfulness, but genuine caring? I don't think so. Or perhaps even if they do, I may simply find that I am too hurt and traumatized to trust it. I keep talking about love, and I realize I am only in my first baby steps. But I guess I'd rather be in love kindergarten than in technological grad school. 

Energetic Mismatch

On this steamy summer day (just about our second or third this year!), despite heavy smoke from Canada and eerie yellow skies, I have been busy. I've taken a dog for a walk, mowed the lawn, repotted some plants, and washed the dirt and sweat off my hands. 

There is so much to talk about right now, and I am getting seriously behind. Yet it's summer, and my poor readers need a break and so, I suppose, do I. The world isn't giving us one, but I'll try to keep this short.

I am "this close" to having the presumption of saying I speak for the Goddess. But I cannot quite go there yet. So I will speak for that little facet of Her that I represent. Recently, watching TV ads has been a heck of a lot more enlightening than watching the shows themselves, and what I am seeing is a world that (thanks to the dreaded AI) I am feeling more and more alienated from. Speaking for myself, I am not impressed with cars that park or drive themselves. I don't go, "Wow, cool!" at the thought of grocery shelves restocking themselves, or the thought of making huge purchases (like cars and appliances) online without seeing the items I am buying. I don't think it's funny or neat when companies present themselves as a force more powerful than Mother Nature, or when children are being drawn ever-earlier into this artificial world. Most of this is about human ego; most of this is not about love.

Oh, folks, we are heading into an energetic mismatch of monumental proportions. The waves of love entering our world literally don't "register" much of what humans are creating, just as much of what we are creating doesn't "register" (or reflect) love. Love will be the one and only path through the years to come; in the midst of the heat, find something to love, genuinely love. Each person will have to do this for themselves, if they can. We cannot hand the job over to someone else. 

Deep

OK, so I almost went off in a different direction, but what I cannot get out of my mind is...

The loss of the submersible in the North Atlantic. 

I mean, my first reaction was anger at these five men. Is there no part of Earth that can be left in peace? Does having a quarter of a million dollars really qualify you to dig ever-deeper into the core of Her being? Was such an expedition anything more than an opportunity for bragging rights? And I felt some anger at the enormous expense by governments and private institutions trying to rescue them. Women go missing all the time, and it hardly shows up on the radar screen. Men and women are falling through the cracks, and quickly forgotten. It seemed like yet another clear illustration of what (and who) is valued and what (and who) is not.

I softened a bit upon learning more about the men, their genuine passion for exploration, and their various human gifts. My most heartfelt response came when I thought about the implosion itself, those few seconds when each of the men must have grasped that their journey in this lifetime was over. Perhaps in that moment, they understood that another twenty years of loving their families and friends would have been worth more than pushing this particular envelope for its own sake. But it is possible that each of these beings was playing the teaching role that they came to earth to play...what have we learned?

As we go forward, endeavors undertaken for the sake of profit, fear, violence, and ego will simply be less and less successful. The energy of such events simply doesn't match what the Universe consists of, which is only love, and more and more of it. Yes, it's "deep", but you don't -- and won't -- need to go to the bottom of the ocean to find it.