A Few More Travel Notes

First of all, I write this conscious of the latest hurricane and its devastation to cities and communities. There is so much to say, but not today.

The first leg of the train journey, along the upper Mississippi River in Minnesota, was absolutely beautiful, although somewhat "confusing" -- the quality of the light was pure autumn, but the colors along the river spoke late summer. From my left side seat, I saw lots of birds, including herons, eagles and, of course, geese. When we turned east through Wisconsin, the most notable aspect of the landscape in many places was the quantity of raised huts and hunting blinds in the fields. 

Changing trains in Chicago went fine, and I sat on the right this time as we hurtled through the night. There's nothing that signifies "I'm heading into an unknown future" like speeding along the landscape of northern Indiana, Ohio, and Pennsylvania in the pitch dark, only occasionally seeing town, factory, and industrial park lights speed by to be replaced like darkness again. When dawn rose, we were in New York State, but perhaps one of the least appealing stretches of it. Industrial grey, further muted by grey skies and rain. But as we sped eastward through Rochester and Syracuse, and toward Schenectady, the landscape became more familiar and at least somewhat more rural. I can't say that it felt warm and fuzzy, but at least, not negative. I stepped off the train into Schenectady's brand new train station, which replaced the ugly 70's- era one, which had itself replaced the original. 

All in all, I'm still just barely acclimating, and have had moments of doubt about whether even taking this trip was right at this time. But late yesterday, I experienced an amazing "small world" coincidence, which tied me both to the Schenectady-Albany-Troy area as well as Lake Champlain, the kind of thing that would never happen in Minnesota. (If nothing else, the train journey reminded me of how far from "home" Duluth has been!) So as I tiptoe forward, I'll just have to see if these deep roots will hold, and whether I find the right venues not only for living, but also for speaking about the Goddess. It's lot to expect, but I'm hopeful. 

There and Here

Well, I have made it somewhere new -- but very old -- my hometown of Schenectady, New York.

There. The place I couldn't wait to leave. Who would want to live in the Capital District when your real "home" is the choir stalls at King's College, Cambridge, Westminster Abbey, etc.? This scrappy old GE town on the Mohawk River is a place I've criss-crossed through the years, even left storage here, but couldn't really imagine living in again. And then when my Dad died six years ago, his shadow loomed too large over everything in the New York City/Schenectady/Champlain Valley axis. These places were about him. His choices and preferences, not mine. Thus, in part, the return to Duluth a few years ago.

Then, earlier this year, as regular readers might remember, I basically forgave Schenectady. I mean, the city was not responsible for anything negative about my life. There was nothing "wrong" with the city and in certain respects, there was a perfection to it and the Capital District -- especially as it exposed me (in several local Episcopal churches) to the English men and boys' choir tradition. This would probably not have happened in most parts of the United States.

At some point this summer, I realized that not only did I have a "deadline" to move, but I was actually feeling that my time in Duluth was drawing to a close. Not seeing beyond that deadline, I was terrified, and I felt like I was dying. It was only by following several intuitive leads that the path continued to unfold -- and has brought me safely to Square One, only many points higher or further on the spiral. Being able to keep blogging about the hard process also kept me going. Thank you, readers, for being there.

Tonight, I'm scheduled to attend a play at the theater that used to be the Schenectady Light Opera Company -- the very place that my parents met! They were both volunteering behind the scenes (ticket-taking, scenery) at a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta. It seems strangely fitting! Talk about Square One! For the first time in 50 years, I seem to be able to accept non-judgmentally that I am here, I never made it to England permanently, and it's OK. I'm OK, and I am still alive. I don't know where the autumn leaves are (the landscape travelled these last few days was shockingly green!) and there are many other changes. But for the moment, "there" has become "here". Here. I am Here.

I'll tell a few more stories about my travels early next week.

Sagas

Tomorrow, I leave on the first leg of this new adventure -- whether it turns out to be a short "trip" or a whole new chapter remains to be seen. Either way, I sense it will be life-changing, although I have to confess that I would give almost anything right now to be so settled that I wouldn't want to leave. Age (and at least partially releasing England as a goal) is taking its toll. So this would be a good day to remind myself why my life has been what it has been, and to try to emulate the Goddess by being compassionate with myself and others every step of the way.

Over the weekend, I spent a lot of time organizing and re-organizing my roller bag and tote bag. My arms and shoulders aren't as strong as they used to be, so every tiny "weight" came under scrutiny. Take, for example, my old-fashioned physical address book. It is small, around 4 inches x 6 inches, and it was originally about 3/4 inch thick. But over the years, I've stuck so many things between the front covers -- scraps of paper, business cards, plates of "forever" stamps, lists of Christmas cards sent and received, etc. etc. etc. -- that its binding is almost completely undone and it's about three times its intended thickness. A few years ago, I bought a replacement address book with the intention of starting over, but it didn't "take".

So I did a ruthless purge of these little scraps of paper, and it is lighter now!

Among them, however, was a keeper. It is a quote from Philippa Gregory's The Lady of the Rivers, about the water spirit Melusina: "She is a being not of this world...she tried to live like an ordinary woman, but some women cannot live an ordinary life. She tried to walk in the common ways, but some women cannot put their feet to that path. This is a man's world...and some women cannot march to the beat of a man's drum..." I guess six or seven years ago when I read this book, I knew that for all intents and purposes this should be my epitaph, and I dare say it still will be when the moment comes.

Triple-folded, that scrap of paper is back in the front of the address book and is coming with me.

Writing this, early in the morning, I'm mulling over the notion of sagas. Most of us were trained to think that only certain lives were extraordinary -- Gods and Goddesses of Greek myth, for instance, or the great leaders, explorers and soldiers of history (mostly male). And yet every woman, the moment she wakes up in the morning, is the heroine of her own saga: whether she is fleeing war and oppression, or getting on the city bus with three children and a stroller, and needs to break down the stroller and stow it before the bus driver will start the bus again. Whether she is in the boardroom of a major corporation (a female "master of the universe"), or taking off in the car to do the familiar suburban round of errands. Whether she is caring for a loved one, or sitting dazed on the sidewalk, at the end of her rope. Or whether she's living the greatest saga of all, aging. (Whatever your day is about today, you are the saga's extraordinary heroine!) The Goddess embraces all of our sagas, and with Her there are no hierarchies or degrees of importance. One of the beautiful aspects of our current time is that more of us have outlets for telling our unique stories, online, through the arts and writing, or on stage.

I'm not sure how much wi-fi access I'll have going forward, so just know that I will check in again as soon as I can, with the next chapter of my particular saga. Thanks, as ever, for your readership, and I send love and blessings, friends!

This and That

The last few days have been rich, meeting with friends. Uncharacteristically, I had breakfast out two days in a row, pancakes. In the first case, it was, actually, one pancake, about the size of a dinner plate and about an inch thick. On day two at a different restaurant, two traditional-sized pancakes, and more to my liking. (I know I rarely foray into talking about food, but I seem to have entered a new "zone" so don't assume anything!)

And a delight to see my friends, visit a few special spots like the Rose Garden, and to remind myself that either I won't be seeing them again for a while, or potentially forever. It is hard -- all my moves and transitions have been. I try to be nonchalant, but I'm not. Yet everyone knows me pretty well, in the sense that there were a few jokes about seeing me soon (!) And truly, I don't know what I will learn over the next few weeks, and what direction it will send me. All I know is that I crave a community/presence of at least a few people who are Goddess-centered...not in terms of ritual or studying historical Goddess figures, but literally in terms of trying to live out being "a Goddess" in these remarkable times. 

As of this moment, I won't miss Duluth, the city, although the location on Lake Superior will remain in my system forever. Depending on how it all turns out, I may well miss its relative convenience...easy-ish access to much of the city by bus. But I have several times recently resonated with the word "completion", and that's how it feels. I had not really completed my Duluth phase back in 1999, when I hurriedly went back east to help care for my mom when she was dying. When I returned here in 2018, I think I moved through the completion process pretty quickly, but COVID changed everything, as it did for everyone. I am thankful for my relative safety during that time, and the three years since, when I was able to really re-birth.

So, for the next few days, I will go through the "thises and thats" of my belongings (one consequence of this way of life is regularly giving away many things that are too heavy to carry!) When I get depressed about going through this again, I remind myself that millions of people around the world are doing the same thing as I speak  -- if their possessions have not been burned or flooded out or blown away in the wind. I don't own much, but I'm privileged to own a few treasured items, and I hope I can continue to hang onto them.

Starting next Tuesday, I'm not sure what my computer access will be, but I hope to check in once more before then. Until then, a blessed fall equinox to you, and enjoy the beautiful late afternoon light. 

Miscellaneous Musings

Of all the "liminal" times I have experienced in this journey, not one has been more completely betwixt-and-between as this one. Something that makes it more poignant -- specific to this moment in time -- is the spell of hot weather we are having. Northern Minnesota is rarely anywhere near this hot -- high 70's and low eighties -- in September. Actually, the most surprising piece of it all is nighttime temperatures in the 60's. Trying to run around, organizing, plus seeing friends and doing a handful of "old time's sake" things (like see the Rose Garden), when it feels like summer, is both easier and creepier. It reminds me that the enormous changes I am going through personally are only the tip of the iceberg of what we are all experiencing, or soon to experience.

On Saturday, I attended a library book sale to see if I could find a few books for my train trip next week. At these moments, I am shockingly book uninspired. There were none of my favorite romance novels, so I went to Plan B: Anne Perry mysteries, set in Victorian London. And I found a few of these for the road. Clearly, Britain is my true home, and these books -- as everything else -- reflect that. Did I mention that I finally have a theory as to why (at least to date) I never figured out how to move there permanently? I would have been too happy, too contented, too delightfully satiated with choral evensong services and the beauties of the country. Probably I would never have become cranky, homeless and frustrated enough to develop more as a feminist -- and I wouldn't have started leaning as thoroughly toward the Goddess. My hunch is that my agreement on the divine plane was to learn whatever I needed to learn and experience whatever I needed to experience in order to arrive at a moment where my entire soul was aligned with Her. If I ever get back to Great Britain in that context, it may finally work...but there will have to be some person or institution on the other side reaching out to pull me over. I picture a welcoming hand across the water...

But I hope I won't ever again "try" to make that happen, try to "push the river", or put that particular sense of "home" ahead of speaking for the Goddess. As I shift gears and landscapes in coming weeks, it isn't about my comfort or security, going home, or just "trying something new", but about intuiting where the most promising opening to my future lies.

Speaking of speaking for the Goddess: what would She say to those of us enjoying unnaturally temperate autumn weather? Probably, "yes, dears, enjoy it, but remember why it is happening. It is happening because something is very out of sync."

A Hissy Fit

OK, so two nights ago, in my handwritten journal, I basically had a hissy fit. Addressing God/Goddess/Universe/Source, I basically said, OK, I've had it. I'm exhausted. I cannot move forward without some clarity, some sense of enthusiasm, and I want it NOW, within 24 hours. I slammed the notebook shut.

And within 24 hours, I had made a decision. It's a pretty open-ended decision, but it involves some train travel. I realized that for about three years, I haven't left Duluth-Superior except to go (once or twice) a half hour up the shore to Two Harbors. If absolutely nothing else, I need to get a fresh perspective on life, to watch landscapes roll by the window.

As transitions go, this one has been a humdinger. Yet every transition I have ever made has pushed me forward spiritually, and I hope this one will too. I'm not quite sure when I'll be able to come to the library over the next week or so, but I'll check in when I can. Thanks for following this saga!

Intertwining Themes

Today, there are two intertwining themes.

I've read that it is common -- at certain stages of a spiritual journey -- for a mystic's indispensable connection to the Divine to just drop out of sight. That this can be most likely to happen at a critical juncture like the one I am at now. And if this is what is happening, I am here to tell you that it is a wretched, wretched feeling. When your whole life lens is spiritual, suddenly being unable to access your spiritual center puts all other losses and abandonments in the shade. I don't quite believe that the Goddess or my guides have left me completely -- they are "there" somewhere -- but I would give anything right now to feel the breath of the Divine, and to "hear" Her clear, unambiguous instructions. 

The second theme is "applying". All my life, I have been "applying myself". For decades, I applied to be loved by my family. I applied and applied to be accepted into the world of English church music. I've applied for schools and jobs, auditioned for choirs, applied for apartments and living situations, tried to gain the acceptance that might lead to permanent housing. Perhaps even this blog could be said to be me applying for recognition or even acclaim. I've tried to prove that I write well enough, get good enough grades, sing and sightread well enough, am smart enough, wise enough, helpful enough, a quick enough learner, and good enough at housekeeping or helping sick people. At times, I have had to prove that I'm poor enough, or a good enough artist or teacher. I've tried all my life to meet the "conditions" set for me from without, and I'm just exhausted by this process. 

Somewhere within me, I know that the only world worth being in is a world of unconditional love and acceptance, and this is where today's themes intertwine. To go further on this journey, I must feel the Divine presence more clearly and return to the certainty that Her love isn't conditional in any way. Her loving, supportive energies will surely break through lingering layers of fear at the best possible moment...and, for once, I cannot micromanage when that moment is!