Me/We

Yesterday in my handwritten journal, I wrote, "We are going to the moon today." After writing that, I went back and put the "we" in quotation marks. Why did I do that? Well, I guess it hit me that while the United States of America is doing it, I'm not either completely or partially on board with the idea. I mean, earth's humans are on the brink of environmental disasters, conflict disasters, and social upheaval, and this is the moment to bring all these unresolved issues further out into space? If they had asked me what I thought, I would have said no, thank you.

But it's at a moment like this that I start to swoon, Victorian-lady style. I mean, I say "no, thank you" to just about every major construct in our society: economic systems based on profit, not love; any form of violence (to people or nature) over and above swatting away a mosquito; religions that ignore the divine feminine; you name it. There are times when the enormity of the chasm between how I think about things and how "we" think about things is so large, I nearly stop breathing. It is no surprise that I'm out on a limb. Out on a limb, holding my breath!

Talking with friends, it seems that I am not the only woman who differentiates herself from the generalized "we". Some of us basically don't fit any category or spot on the political spectrum, and we are digging deep to try to figure out why. I cannot speak for others, but only for myself. My reasons for not wanting to colonize outer space, or to get involved in conflict, or to profit, or to worship in ways that focus on "good vs. evil", are completely spiritual. These are outmoded constructs, and my "we" are the people who understand that we have already entered the next spiritual age, beyond duality. Many years from now, when we can make our way to the moon from a "place" of complete unity, wisdom and love, I'll be all for it!

 

Goddess Words 8: Waters

What happens these days when I decide to add a new Goddess word to this blog is that I scan my original "list" or page-full of terms, and just see which word calls to me. Today's word is, "waters". I'm not sure why I wrote it in the plural, and I am pretty sure I meant the noun, not the verb (as in, "she waters the garden"). However, it doesn't really matter. May it resonate in whatever way it needs to on this rainy day in northern Minnesota. 

As with all the words I'll be adding to this series of posts, there is no way to cover "water" in a few paragraphs. Why do I think of water as connected with the Goddess? Because it is indispensable. The waters of our mother's womb feed us and keep us safe before birth, and after birth, we cannot survive without water either, and neither can most forms of life on earth. It's almost like an invisible umbilical cord, linking us to Her, and to all creation. In a healthy state, the waters of earth may be Nature's greatest gift -- which is why it is so painful to think about the ways we humans have so thoughtlessly trashed them. Water is power, and it is powerful. It can make the modern way of life viable, and it can destroy that way of life. 

I am grateful for my first years in Duluth, during the 1990's, because I think my proximity to Lake Superior helped bring me to a sense of connection with the Goddess. At times, I lived on Park Point, and literally all but lived in the water. Yesterday, for the first time in two years, I took the bus down the Point and took a swim. I had forgotten how much I love sitting on the sandy beach, and walking into the frigid waters. You look out to a stark horizon, literally sky and water. With the exception of the occasional ore ship (and these days, cruise ships!), there isn't anything manmade in sight. Sand underfoot, water, and air -- life at its most elemental. All water reminds me of the Goddess, but perhaps Lake Superior most of all.

One of my favorite, classic English cathedral anthems is John Ireland's "Greater Love", with the biblical words, "Many waters cannot quench Love, neither can the floods drown it". In the midst of a flooding crisis such as people are experiencing in the southern U.S., it must be hard to believe this. When a flood swallows up your belongings, or even friends or family members, the event must take years to come to terms with, much less to see "love" in. But I understand this saying now more than I possibly could have done the first time I heard the anthem fifty or sixty years ago. Love is all there is. It cannot be "quenched" by water, or burned away by fire, or covered over in landslides, or killed off by man. It is all that exists. If there is even just one thing or person that you love in this world, that love is eternal.

One last kind of water for today: tears. I have shed a lot of them the last few days. I think it finally hit me how alone I've been in the world, from the moment I was born. Many newborns experience a less-than-enthusiastic welcome for a host of reasons, not just because of a father incapable of love. But such a start imprints a pattern on your life that it is hard to evolve out of. As I slowly start to actually feel Love (not just understand it intellectually), I am also feeling more acutely where it was/is and was not/is not in my life. I suspect that Mother Earth is also shedding her share of tears right now. I started to describe her as I would a transcendent male god, watching us from above, but of course She is here in us, around us, and underfoot. How She must wish we would respect the waters She gifted us with, and keep them clean.  

On the Rocks

Well, it took over a week, but yesterday dawned warm, dry, and sunny, and I took an extended walk to the rocky point I told you about on the 13th. The experience was initially a disappointment, through no fault of the landscape. There wasn't a path down to the beach level, just a steep wall of boulders which are probably a cinch for school age kids and young moms, but which (suddenly?!) are just too much for my knees. Not being "outdoorsy" has taken its toll. And being there alone added to my sense of vulnerability. So...I carefully made my way down to the first flat rock and simply sat on it. I loved the warmth pouring up through the stone into my hands, my feet, my (Oh, Lordy, if my mother could see me writing this word!) bum. It is an infusion of power. And there is nothing in the world quite like sitting next to an ocean, lake or river, and hearing the action of the water on the shore. There was a light southwest breeze, no ore boats in sight, and just a few small fishing boats. For a few moments, I felt like I was embodying my maternal grandmother, Agnes, who used to bring her oil paints to overlooks near Kennebunkport, Maine, and paint scenes of the waves hitting the rocks. Somewhere, there may still be some old black-and-white photos of her in 1950's skirt and blouse, and a broad-brimmed hat not dissimilar to the one I was wearing. 

I had seen the news yesterday morning about the flooding in Texas, which they called a "thousand year" event. It heightened my appreciation for a calm moment on a lake that can turn on a dime. It's such an awesome mystery, how Nature expresses power so many different ways all over the world -- at the same time. And even in this era of weather extremes, how could Texans possibly grasp the need to prepare for flooding after months of drought? It was shocking, even from a distance, to see people wading through their kitchens. I think we need to retire phrases that imply the rarity of such storms. You almost sense that officials are trying to reassure people that things will soon return to normal, but it is unlikely that they will. Perhaps our society is being forced to become less consumerist; as so much of what we "own" starts floating downstream or going up in smoke or flying away in tornadoes, perhaps we will think twice before buying so much in the first place...just hoping (!) And I am reminded that boulders are among the few things that can survive most of those weather events. I'm loving them more all the time.

Another Eye of the Needle

An interesting thing has happened in the three weeks or so since I wrote my first Goddess Words post. I am not sure if it would have happened anyway...I had a hunch that I was in the midst of another rebirth, another eye of the needle. Nine months of living alone is about to come to an end, and if nothing else, I can't help but wonder about the timing's pregnancy metaphor. I've experienced many such "eyes" in the last few decades, moments where I could so easily have fallen completely off the rails, but because of my own balanced tiptoeing across a high wire or the assistance of one completely unexpected (and blessed) person or situation, life went on. 

It was interesting looking up the definition of "eye of the needle". Despite decades of exposure to readings and sermons about the rich man not being able to go through such a portal, I don't think I understood that the origin of the term had more to do with overloaded camels having to be completely unpacked to walk through a city gate. Somehow, visualizing men literally unloading a sweaty, grumpy camel, hot sun beating down and dust swirling, has given this metaphor even more meaning than before. 

The nature of my current gate/portal/eye of the needle is clearer to me than in previous experiences, where I think my main concern was simple survival. I hoped to live another day, another month, another year. This time, I see myself going through a very specific "gate". I see it more as a Venn diagram, with two equal circles overlapping in a small lens, which I gather is called a "vesica piscis". The circle on the left is my passion for England and English church music (and English art, history, design, geography, spiritual sites, etc.) and the circle on the right is my passion for the Goddess/Nature, and the qualities that I associate with Her. The unusual intersection of the two is...well...me. I know that much at least. If I have a tribe, so to speak, I haven't encountered them yet. If I have a place, I have a hunch where it is, but at this moment I am not there. 

In the last few weeks, a few old friendships have seemed to fall away, if only temporarily. It has been painful. And I have found that my tolerance for everything not connected with these two circles has plummeted. After a lifetime of trying so hard to love everything but my two core passions, I've reached the gate where everything else on planet Earth is falling away. All I can see, all I can focus on, and all I can carry through this gate into the future, are my two passions. Fortunately, they are not physical "possessions", they are who I am, so hopefully I will walk through unimpeded. My task at the other side will not be simple survival (although I hope I do survive for a while at least!) My task will be to embody these two essentials, and find a creative expression for the place where they overlap. If I find the right expression, of course, it won't be a "task" at all, but a joy.

Goddess Words 7: Power

What is a woman to do when the world is losing its collective mind? Keep presenting Goddess words! And before I do, please know that this is just my personal list. It won't be exhaustive (I may keep adding to my original chart), and my stories and thoughts reflect only my unusual life and the perspective I have gained from it. Of course, make your own list, or journal about how these words manifest in your life, or draw a picture. or send a few "thank you's" to the heavens when you see the divine feminine at work in the world. Although it is kind of Old Paradigm to think of building blocks and constructing a foundation, the fact is that there are precious few Goddess constructs of any kind in the world, and it may be up to our generation of women to start that metaphorical work. I'm trying to envision a circular "building"...

So, "power". Very interesting. My 1970's era Concise Oxford Dictionary has as its first entry, "the ability to do or act", and while some online definitions are the same, others focus initially on power "over" others or situations. I'll leave it to scholars to analyze how or if we have changed in 45 or 50 years...but it seems to me that "power" and "power over" can be seen as two completely different entities. "Power" feels more inward, like gifts that come through you when your channels are open to divine Love. We use those gifts in the world, certainly, but it is because we cannot help it, and ideally it is to spread love in the world out in circular waves, not to control others or the environment. "Power over" is hierarchical, and has as its focus specific outcomes, often not related to genuine love. I don't think I have ever experienced the sensation of having power over anyone or anything outside of myself. As I go through the grieving process about how frustrating that has felt at times, I think I am beginning to more fully appreciate the inherent inner power of my gifts (writing, art, music, love, possibly even wisdom).

I have to keep reminding myself that Nature's current efforts to bring earth's environment back from the brink are not about "power over", however it may seem to people in the paths of storms and fires. I truly don't believe the Goddess is getting back at us, or doing some kind of tit-for-tat. Those are human constructs. It is simply that Nature has the awesome power necessary to bring the planet to a new viability, with or without our help. Underneath it all is pure, joyful, creative power that can see far beyond what our eyes can see and act far beyond what we are capable of doing. I sometimes wonder if "mankind's" often brutal acts of "power over" are an attempt to out-power Nature. If so, it will never work in the longterm. 

So many facets of genuine power come to mind; the power of life, the power of healing, the power of birth, the power of insight, the power of creativity, the power of beauty, the power of growth and transformation, the power of truth (with or without the capital T!). It's like there is a whole level and definition of power in our world that most of us -- male and female -- haven't really begun to access yet. It may be the only kind of power that will work at all going forward.

This week, Minnesota has been getting in on the action, with wave after wave of strong rainstorms, and subsequent flooding. My goal of making my way onto that rocky point to bask in the sun may have to wait a few more days. My personal goals have to take a back seat to Mother Nature's, and in the end, I'm so glad She is doing what She needs to do!

Goddess Words 6: Awe

This post, an hour ago, was going to go in a different direction. As glad as I am that, however belatedly, our culture has finally noticed that there is an environmental turning point facing our earth home, I am almost swooning in disappointment with the omnipresent phrase, "We need to fight climate change". I wanted to do the very thing that no longer works: contradict (literally, speak against) this notion, prove why it won't work, effectively fight the use of such wording, and offer the "right" approach. (This blog, and my life, is a work in process, and you can't be on planet earth 66 years without having soaked in the impulses of our conflict construct!) It's so satisfying to say, "so there", "so there", "so there", and wrap up with a sharp, take-no-prisoners conclusion. My inner lawyer loves to make her case, and win.

But that is the old, duality construct talking. So all I will say, addressing virtually everything in the news on this Monday morning including the climate crisis, is: anything you fight gets bigger. Several centuries from now, humans will know how to live a fighting-free existence, and we might as well start now. 

So, awe. 

The dictionary definitions of this, both online and in my 50-year old hardcover book, are pretty good. It's an interesting condition/emotion, having both positive (wonder, reverence, respect) and negative (fear, dread) aspects, and seemingly appropriate in situations where humans face the divine/Nature or other humans. I suspect that most humans have felt awe at some point in their life, although I also suspect that people incapable of love are incapable of awe. That would be an interesting thing for someone to study, if it hasn't been done.

Awe, for me, happens when my breath has been taken away, when I am overcome with joy at the beauty or sublimity of a scene in front of me, or a piece of music, or the smell of flowers or rain, or the touch of a lustrous fabric like velvet. In the natural world, it has happened when I have seen northern lights, at my very first view of Lake Superior, seeing almost every landscape I have ever laid eyes on in England, and looking at the astonishing photographs being released from outer space. It is when a beauty pierces you to the core, and you realize it was created by a power so far beyond our limited human understanding that it is inconceivable. But I also feel awe when presented with certain human constructs. Yes, my beloved cathedrals. The sound of organ and choral music in cathedrals. Stone circles and Celtic crosses and beautiful architecture, art and design. On "Antiques Roadshow-UK", I have been introduced to a form of art called "micro-mosaics". What looks like a miniature painting or decorated piece of jewelry turns out to have been made using minuscule bits of stone, glass, or gems of different colors to "paint" images. When I think of the people who have the patience to create beauty in this almost impossibly difficult form, I feel genuine awe. Same with ships-in-bottles, certain needlework, basically, detailed artwork of a kind that I don't seem to have the patience for (!)

Many people probably feel a more fear-filled awe faced with some current climate events. In certain situations, I might feel that too, but for the moment, on the periphery, my "awe" is reasonably positive. There is beauty in every natural event, whatever the catalyst: fires, earthquakes, flooding rivers, windstorms, snowstorms. The power of the events themselves is awesome, as is, often, the beauty of the new visual form. The snowdrifts outside my window last winter, at least six feet high, changed every day. The wind blew them into patterns of astonishing ever-evolving beauty, and that visual perfection extends down into the unique patterns of each snowflake. It is a beauty literally beyond human power to create, so I feel awe.

Certain "manmade" constructs do not, I'm afraid, leave me feeling awe or reverence. 100-story office buildings. Giant dams or oil rigs. The "shock and awe" of war. Phenomena from enormous ships, bridges, and spacecraft down to artificial intelligence. It's not so much a case of judging them as bad or wrong, as simply not feeling that inner thrill of joy and beauty. On an energetic level, I don't feel that they were created as an expression of love, so not feeling that love, I seem to be able to feel no awe.

Why did I write this down as a Goddess word? I guess because as I try to imagine a future, more divine feminine-oriented world, awe seems like a quality that will be more common. The more we love, the more we will see, and the more we see, the more we will be in awe of loving and love-filled creations (both divine and human). Today, if we feel awe, it is important to pay attention to it, and to whatever caused it. Let's collect and cherish our experiences of awe.

Goddess Words 5: Boulders/Bolder

Well, I decided that "The Words of the Goddess" is just too clumsy (and possibly pretentious sounding) if I may be writing over a hundred posts about the words on my handwritten list. My writer/researcher self wanted to be true to my original document, but sometimes you have to let go of your training and just live..."Goddess Words" it'll be for now.

"Boulders." You must be thinking, how on earth does this rate being near the top of a list featuring concepts like Love, Beauty and Synchronicity? Actually, it is rather far down the list, which I wrote (and will present) in no particular order. But it appeals today. Boulders are huge rocks, usually too big to be moved by human hands alone, and often rounded by generations of erosion. 

There are boulders galore near Lake Superior. When I first lived here in the early 1990's, and had a car, I frequently took drives up the scenic road to Two Harbors. There were probably a dozen pull-offs back then (sadly, some have closed because of -- yup -- erosion!) and I would park, and make my way down onto the rocky shoreline. On a sunny day, I loved clambering onto the rocks, then stretching out in the sun. I loved the heat from the rocks as well as the sky -- and normally I don't tolerate the heat. But on the rocks, it was different. I felt part of nature in a way I rarely do otherwise. I felt animal, aligned with the setting. And I loved using my hands and feet to move horizontally, getting out of formal, upright mode.

Earlier this week, I was on the Lakewalk, and I realized that about a third of a mile away there is a rock point jutting out into the lake that I have never explored. A mom and her children were out there, playing. I wanted to join them, but, thirty years older, less mobile, and fearful from previous falls and sort of "COVID-era trauma", I didn't. This morning, I'm thinking, really? Really? When did that happen? Over the next week, I promise to myself and you, I'll go back and find my way onto that rocky point, and tell you about it.

Why do boulders speak "Goddess"/Mother Nature to me? They aren't soft, and in a sense they aren't welcoming, like a grassy meadow or a garden. They are ancient and hard. You have to do a little work to connect with them. But they are survivors. They are rounded and variegated and powerful. The kinds of floods that have destroyed entire manmade communities merely rub a tiny millimeter of surface from them, without changing their essential natures. They are the closest things we have in our lives to "eternal". And it just occurred to me, what is the main construction material of English cathedrals, where I feel most at home? Stone. Boulders. Hmm...I hadn't made that link before. 

I'm throwing in the homophone ("bolder") just because. It's time we women find a way to be bolder. Not to fight, not to take power over, not to rage, not to stand up to anyone or anything. Simply to speak more boldly and confidently, and to act more boldly. Thank our fears for trying to protect us, but move forward anyway. Be solid. Be like a boulder. My assignment for becoming bolder this week will be to find my way to the boulder. What's yours?!