What a remarkable thing it is to wake each day wrapped in the glow of the love that surrounds us and burns within us. My spiritual journey began in 1992 with the introduction to the feminine divine at a weekend workshop with Margot Adler. Though I had grown up in the Unitarian Church, I never met another Unitarian at school from kindergarten through senior year. Growing up in the bible belt (Central Florida), I was surrounded by many young people of varying Christian faiths, so I was often informed that my lack of faith in someone else’s belief system meant that I would burn in Hell. Of course, that didn’t scare me because I didn’t believe in that human construct either. But so much talk of a hateful God who would send good people into an eternity of suffering was a real turn-off. Frankly, I’m not into abusive relationships, so I moved on.
So, the idea of a faith or practice that included a Goddess and a God was a revelation at age 23. Admittedly, I continued to struggle with the ‘God’ relationship and decided to just ignore it for a while. There have been far too many experiences with toxic masculinity that offered objectification, disrespect, and misogyny to enable a relationship with a masculine divine. So, I focused on my relationship with the feminine divine and spent a couple of decades figuring out how to find Her within myself. I could really feel the goddess rising through the MeToo movement and the PinkPussyHat movement of recent years. What I could feel in my being is that She is kinda pissed, y’all.
In the age of constant news of white men in places of power working daily to rape and pillage the rights and bodily autonomy of women, it’s especially difficult to nurture a kind and loving relationship with the masculine divine. Though I have a good number of remarkable men in my life, I am a happily single and joyfully childless cat lady, so… I was beginning to feel that this was a relationship I wouldn’t get to explore in this lifetime. But that started to shift at the beginning of this year.
A young man in my life invited me to hold space for his suffering and vulnerability. Through his courage and emotional maturity, I got to see the beauty of a soul that lives in truth with respect for women and for himself. He strives to be a man of integrity and compassion. When he suffers a setback, he honors his grief with the support of a therapist and with the counsel of elders who love him. Instead of allowing his hurt to turn to bitterness, he chooses to go deeper within to become an even better version of himself. He has become my personal symbol of the masculine divine. My most Noble Truth. My honorary godson.
That divine nature is also visible in the deeply compassionate and sacrificial nature of our President, Joe Biden. Talk about a sacrificial king. For the sake of our democracy, he came out of retirement to use his half a century of experience and across-the-aisle capability to regain a sense of integrity and dignity for our country after four years of terror. And though he surely would have won another term to finish all he sought to accomplish on our behalf, he chose to step aside and elevate the feminine divine we find in his partner and VP, Kamala Harris.
Within a single week, the energy that surrounds this pending election season was elevated to a whole new dimension. This moment is way overdue, and we are fully engaged and ready to celebrate getting to vote again for a woman and this time to see her elected as President of the United States of America. And now, just a couple of weeks after that, we are steering by starlight. Kamala Harris has chosen a healthy father figure to join her in leading us out of the darkness of threatening fascism which already has a tight grip on our democracy. I live in Florida, so we feel it and see it every day in the toxic masculinity that runs rampant in harmful and oppressive policies pouring out of our state’s capitol.
The thing about the rise of the feminine divine is that unlike in patriarchal systems, there is more than enough room for the masculine divine. I mean, She is the Mother of us all, how could She possibly want less for Her Sacred Sons than for Her Beloved Daughters? There is archaeological evidence that women were worshipped and revered for tens of thousands of years, but for the last two thousand years of the Piscean Age, the world has been victim to the diminishment of women in society and the Earth has paid a lethal price.
The world is now getting to see how a brilliant woman leads with strength and joy, and how a heroic male counterpart who lifts her and supports her is invited to shine right along with her. Beloveds, I am so excited for all of us and the bright future that awaits. Tim Walz was completely unknown to me a week ago, and now he is among my favorite humans. I delight in knowing that girls are finally going to see themselves in the highest role within our country’s leadership and that boys, girls, and non-binary beings will benefit from the loving kindness and healing compassion to be delivered by the Harris Walz Administration. This is gonna be so good!
There is still much work to be done, for darkness still looms in the shadows despite all of this light. The age of Aquarius is upon us and we are bearing witness to the WE movement through communities that are gathering and building momentum in various groups on social media. There is so much love there, I hope you are finding it and feeling it, dear ones. People who are physically surrounded by cult members are finding comfort and solace in these spaces where we arrive for a common cause, to not go back, and to fight to win. What I especially adore is that people whose lives have been made physically and emotionally unsafe by the hateful rhetoric of the oppression party are bravely stepping into community spaces in their authenticity and are finding acceptance and celebration, as should we all. I LOVE THIS FOR ALL OF US! We deserve to live in a world where we are all accepted and celebrated for who we are.
So enjoy this beautiful chariot ride into liberation, friends. Keep showing up, keep speaking up, keep rising up, keep lifting up – not just Kamala Harris and Tim Walz as our next President and Vice President, but one another, as well! This is how we form a more perfect union. And if you’re interested in joining me and my tribe for our mindful practice of visualizing the future we deserve and command, below is our Blue Flame Spell for the Protection of Our Democracy.
When a Blue Wave moves through it leaves behind a lot of muck and debris in its wake, so we are invoking a controlled burn with this Blue Flame to burn it all away so that the light that is revealed can shine brightly upon our sacred foundation and give rise to the seeds of a loving society where we all have all we need with plenty to share. Just light a blue candle and speak these words each day between now and the election.
By this Blue Flame, we conjure zephyr winds, cleansing fire, healing waves, and stable ground to lift us, purify us, clarify us, and hold us as we witness our Nation’s joyful new beginning with the flawless election of Democratic Representation from the White House through each Statehouse. We activate and fully engage our highest selves, our devoted guides, and all unemployed angels, to awake and arise with the spirit of our sacred ancestors to deliver us from obstruction, oppression, and intended destruction. The feminine divine did rise, and will not tolerate patriarchal demise.
Blue Flame, burning brightly illumines the peaceful and respectful transition of power from the compassionate father to the fearless daughter. One saved us from drowning, providing healing respite, the next gave us wings and took us higher into flight. When women lead, the world is reborn. We celebrate the arrival of effortless flourish and flow, nurtured by truth, justice, abundance, wisdom, empathy, caring, and compassion for all beings great and small. Together, we are dancing, sharing, loving, and caring. This is the arrival of our new age as we rejoice, renew, and rekindle ancient wisdom, progressive sage.
This Blue Flame burns away the ME and elevates the WE, aligning the earth with safety, security, equity, equality, liberty, harmony, transparency, integrity, unity, community, multi-dimensionality, and reciprocity. Our time has come. We have overcome! It is done. It is done. It is done!
Thank you for walking this path with me. I love knowing you are here.
This quote from a longer poem spoke to me, as does this stunning artwork by a favorite artist whose work is found on Etsy, Autumn Sky Art.
As an Aquarius born at the end of the 1960s, I have spent my entire life looking forward to the arrival of the Age of Aquarius. It feels like it has been ‘dawning’ for a terribly long time, and surely it must be on the verge of bursting forth from the horizon. I mean… SHEESH!
When I was first introduced to astrology in the early 90s, a friend explained the transition from one age to another has a shadow period (the way that Mercury Retrograde can be felt 14 days before and after its seeming back-track in the night sky). I guess if an age can last two thousand years, the shadow might be excruciatingly drawn out. In my lifetime, we certainly have seen some darkness, but also… quite a bit of light.
Many of us could see the shadow moving in through the degradation of the GOP, as their rhetoric villanized those who struggle in the world through the patriarchal oppression of systemic racism and systemic misogyny. It is difficult to make sense of such hateful actions (far too many to name), but one can come to understand that the schoolyard bully picks on others so that no one will dare pick on them. They are basically afraid of everything and devoid of self-love.
One theory we’ve discussed is that those who have benefited most from the age of Pisces (the age of ‘ME’) marked by money, power, and patriarchal control are like rats in a toilet bowl scratching to remain on the surface before they get flushed by the age of Aquarius (the age of ‘WE’) which heralds increased harmony and deepened spirituality.
I think we really felt that proverbial dawning of goodness in recent years when we got to cast presidential ballots within the last two decades for both a black man and then a woman. I remember the shadow that descended when we heard the news from the UK about Brexit and realized that our woman would not win. It was devastating. We sobbed through the concession speech, as we could already see the future that would come to pass, women’s rights stolen along with the respectability of the judicial court systems. I have to admit it was worse than some of us predicted.
But now, there is new light reaching our eyes, with the rejection of tyranny in England and France. The good news of accomplishment from our current administration is astounding considering how close to the brink we were at the end of 2020. We’ve got the right leaders to bring us home to even greater success in the coming years as the work they’ve already done comes to light.
In just three and a half months, our country goes to the polls again to choose our leaders for the next presidential cycle. It seems like an easy choice, right? I mean, one guy is a notorious felon who cannot speak the truth and could not be hired as a server in a restaurant, while the other is actively doing his job of leading our country and working with world leaders to keep us safe and to seek safety for others while improving the lives of all citizens, every single day.
And yet, there are disappointingly vocal people in our party who are asking the very successful guy to step down, with no one lined up to take his place, nor with access to the funding to make it possible. They seem to have forgotten that earlier this year, 87% of Democrats who voted in the primaries chose the Biden/Harris ticket. We all knew the age of our incumbent leaders when we chose them. We all knew that they were leading our country in the right direction and that there was no other candidate more capable who came forward.
Furthermore, it seems the whole point of having a Vice President is to ensure consistent leadership should something happen to the President. We could choose a fifty-year-old presidential candidate tomorrow, and if they were to win (which is no guarantee according to the “Keys to the Whitehouse”), they could die of an aneurysm ten days after inauguration; and then who would lead? Oh, yeah… the Vice President!
So what I would like people to reflect on, who may be leaning toward asking a successful leader to step down when we are far too close to the edge of oblivion and Project 2025 to consider their own implicit biases. In my eyes, if our guy does not make it through another four-year term, we already have an amazing leader to fill his shoes, only she will do it in stilettos.
Professor Allan Lichtman has successfully predicted every Presidential election since 1982. Including the one none of us saw coming and the one that should have been, but was broken by the Supreme Court. Here is a podcast discussing the Thirteen Keys to the Whitehouse, and how our guy has already won. He won’t officially predict until after the DNC, but if we were to vote today – Agenda 47 would be put to rest for good. He says that the only Plan B possible would be for Kamala Harris to run as President, and yet somehow, in a time when women have lost bodily autonomy, it is hard to imagine systemic misogyny and internalized patriarchy will suddenly be resolved in our country.
I started following a few intuitive readers from all over the world several years ago when I was seeking messages of hope for our future. (It’s interesting to learn how invested in our country’s wellness citizens of other countries are.) It may seem ‘woowoo’ to many, but I’ll tell you that they were right about most things even when they seemed unlikely or impossible. As a skeptical believer, I decided I could believe in good news that soothed my soul, and allow it to manifest with gratitude. They maintain that love wins and we will be celebrating with great relief in the new year. One of my favorite messages from the future is this: “By doing this (choosing 45 and his running mate, creating a platform from Project 2025, stacking the courts with unethical judges, etc.) the GOP brought about a better world in spite of themselves.”
My glass remains half full, dear ones. Aquarius may be a slow-to-warmer, but she is certainly inching her way into our joyful new beginning. I hope you’ll consider joining our energetic experiment to secure a better world, as found in my previous post.
Now, all we have to do is VOTE BLUE IN EVERY CATEGORY and “LET THE SUNSHINE IN!”
Goodness, it has been a year since I last wrote within this sacred space. I have felt such a yearning to reconnect to my inner creativity guide to allow love and light to flow onto page. I’m not sure where she went. I’ve missed her terribly. In my mind’s eye, she has tattoos of blue woad that flow through her fingers into a fountain pen that pours out words from a source beyond my understanding.
There should have been much to say since last June, but perhaps it was too heavy to share. For one thing, a woman for whom I was providing once-weekly care, fell in her bathroom on a Sunday and could not call for help. I normally would not have seen her again until Thursday, but my swiss-cheese memory let a monthly checklist fall through the holes, and I didn’t want her mild dementia to keep her from taking her pills or feeding her dog. So, upon arriving the day before a new month began rather than four days later, I found her bleeding from her head on the bathroom floor, where she had lain more than 24 hours. I’ve written before that this memory thing can be a blessing and a curse. This time – a blessing! I spent weeks through her recovery, however, in great remorse over not having gone over a day earlier. It was a difficult trauma from which to recover… for both of us.
She did survive the fall, thank the gods! I visited her in the hospital and rehab throughout her recovery and when she was healed enough for travel, her nieces arranged for her to live in a lovely care facility near them in another state. She is safe and well and I’ve been able to visit her twice in her new home. It’s such a relief to meet the caregivers of those we love to see that the love we feel is mirrored in their care.
Immediately following her departure, I was invited to work with another beautiful being whose family needed support with her care. After my recent experience, I was able to convince her that it would be lovely to stay in her home, but that it would be safer for her to be where she could be watched over and cared for in a way that her family could not physically or energetically handle. She, too, is now happily settled into a home that she often reports is her new happy place.
In October, I started facilitating a Caregiver Support Group with my Unitarian Church community, which enables me to utilize skills I fortified and things I learned in Heather Plett’s Holding Space Leadership course that I completed at the beginning of the pandemic. The depth of love and caring we can develop for others in the process of sharing our fears and frustrations, strengths and sorrows is immense. We offer one another an empathetic ear and a judge-free shoulder to help carry each others’ burdens. We also share tricks and tools that we’ve learned as we’ve scrambled to keep our loved ones safe and seen by a healthcare industry that frequently fails the elder population. It is a great blessing to know that none of us are walking this isolating and complicated path alone.
In loving people with dementia, my strength(finder) of ‘Input’ led to learning about many medications we take as we age causing cognitive decline, including a medication that I was taking to improve my sleep. So, I’m going to place some blame on my disconnect from writing on that, plus a little bit of trauma and maybe just too much caring for others and not enough caring for myself. Having something beautiful to write about helps, and as we reach the end of Pride Month, I would like to share something, and someone, beautiful.
In March, I heard from my friend that her surgery had gone well. This was the final chapter in her becoming. From the age of five, she knew that the body ‘parts’ that defined her identity to society did not match who she was on the inside. It would take fifty years for her to manifest a sense of wholeness in her body to match the expansiveness of her brilliantly boundless heart and mind.
I know that many people struggle with the idea of being transgender. It can be difficult to understand something that is not true for oneself. For me, it makes perfect sense. Since my mid-twenties, I have lived in a body that does not express my truth but hides it. It is not the parts I have that are wrong, but the size and shape of them. Inside, I am ‘every woman’. I am happy, optimistic, filled with a sense of love for the world and hope for the future. On the outside, I am what our society diminishes and disqualifies from the worthiness of being heard, held, and loved. I have walked in self-loathing for decades, have had 80% of my stomach removed, and have on many occasions fantasized about cutting away my belly, hips, and thighs with a butcher knife. Many people engage in changing their bodies through liposuction, tummy tucks, nose jobs, facelifts, and such. We ALL want to see in the mirror a reflection of who we are so that no one can question our authenticity.
When I imagine myself with a penis, it feels like something I would add to my list of things I might change about my body. So, you can possibly see why when my friend shared her news with me, my reply was to suggest a sacred ceremony of celebration to mark her transformation into the fullness of womanhood she has always yearned for. I was delighted when she said, “Yes” to Rebirth.
I knew that my friend had been drawn to the archetype of Artemis, which happens to be my goddess, too, so as I planned a ritual of rebirth, I also planned an initiation into the Sisterhood of Artemis. Artemis chose my Tribe in 1999, and we have mindfully walked with her these many years. When becoming Artemis, one can no longer continue drowning in the false belief of self-doubt and unworthiness. If you walk with Her long enough, you will find that it all eventually falls away, and what remains is pure, unwavering love of self and others.
Planning a sacred ceremony for any kind of transformation is my happy place. But feeling so disconnected from that mystery of what moves through me when I create reminded me of starting up a gas engine that sat too long during the pandemic. Even now, I can see the valves and pistons in my mind spitting and sputtering while seeking clarity. I had ideas for powerful symbolism and quickly placed orders for two items that should arrive the next day. Had I not known better, I would have guessed Mercury was retrograde when I was notified that one item was damaged in shipping and had been returned to sender. I was able to order it again for delivery a day later, a day before the ritual. But later that day, when the second item was reported as delivered, I found they had given me someone else’s order and there was nothing to be done to acquire my own package. I tried to duplicate the order, like the previous lost item, but the new delivery date was too late.
I am a firm believer in seeing rejection as redirection, so I simply chose to look through my own collection of items gathered over 25 years to find an even more powerful symbol than the one originally ordered, which was now a blessing to a stranger. Ultimately, everything came together in absolute perfection, much as it did for my friend whose body had been transformed. I think the best part of receiving the wrong package was the message we received from the Universe in affirmation of the task for which we prepared. It was a sheet of round stickers that read, “IT’S A GIRL!” (I really couldn’t make that up, ya’ll.)
I know that traditionalists would never share the details of such a ceremony, but my hope is that someone will read this and be inspired to take what is offered and alter it or use it word-for-word to create something special for someone they love who would rise into the glow of their true self by the acknowledgment and care of those who value them not only for who they were, but for who they’ve become. A glorious being of divine truth.
For every sacred being who walks this path to wholeness, theirs is the way of the warrior. They have surely battled many for the right to feel joyful in their own skin, including their parents, their healthcare providers, their local government, their communities, and the most difficult challenge of all, themselves through feelings of shame, fear, and loathing.
Each and all deserve welcome, initiation, and celebration. May these words be a guideline and a blessing. May they spark a revolution of inclusion and homecoming.
On the altar: I had a sprig of dried white sage, a beeswax candle, a bottle of rainwater I had collected on the eve of Summer Solstice, a dish of flaked sea salt, a dish of strawberries for the full moon by that name, a ritual blade to honor the masculine divine, and two chalices to represent the feminine divine; one of cobalt crystal that my parents gave me at the beginning of my spiritual journey, and the other of copper, a gift for my friend at the beginning of hers. I also had a cameo pendant of Artemis on a silver chain, which came from my own collection when the one I ordered failed to arrive. A far more powerful offering, I think.
TRANSFORMATION AND REBIRTHING CEREMONY
Casting the Circle We cast this circle upon the earth, within the astral, and in the realm of the mighty ones. This sacred circle has no beginning and is never-ending. Within this ring of protection stands a magickal forest. Within this forest, no harm will touch the children of Artemis. The circle is cast. So mote it be.
Invoking the Elements We cast our gaze into the East, seeking the blessings of Her Sacred Bees. We stand at the Airy gate focused on setting our silver arrows into flight. We ask for clear knowing and seeing to direct us through this rite of rebirth, like a healing swarm of bees buzzing toward golden honey. Bring to us your blessings of sweetness and new beginnings. Hail and Welcome elements of Air.
We cast our gaze into the South, seeking the blessings of Her Sacred Hounds. We stand at the Firey gate with accomplished arrow, piercing passion. We seek your gifts of right action, burning away injustice, illuminating our empowerment. Bring to us your blessings of radiant transformation. Hail and Welcome elements of Fire.
We cast our gaze into the West, seeking the blessings of Her Sacred Stag. We stand at the Watery gate, reflecting on lessons learned and wisdom gained. We seek your gifts of abundant love and flowing temperance. Bring to us your blessings of cleansing rebirth. Hail and Welcome elements of Water.
We cast our gaze into the North, seeking the blessings of Mother Bear. We stand at the Earthly gate with our feet planted firmly to pull back our bows of intention. We seek your gifts of mountainous strength and the protection of forest sanctuary. Bring to us your blessings of ancient truth. Hail and Welcome elements of Earth.
The Charge of Artemis You come to me in sacred grove and forest glen and run with me to the beat of my beloved King Stag’s hooves. We are illuminated, body and spirit, by the radiance of the sickle moon. As night and moon wax, so does our power. Together we wander the hallowed wood and rest at the soft belly of the Great Mother Black Bear beneath my sacred Cypress.
It is clear vision you seek; focus for desire. With my arms around you, together we grasp the ancient bow of the great harvest. Your hand in mine, we pull back the glistening string that holds the silver arrow at attention. Precision is ours, as we become one, your desire is mine, and mine is yours… we take aim, and send our arrows flying swiftly to our goal.
Long ago, you tended my shrine, a sacred Bee, devoted to bathing my essence in honey and wine. No longer standing are the shrines of old, yet still, you return to my altar at nature’s womb. As you have always belonged to me, I have ever been within you. When you were hurting, I was the strength that flooded your being. When you could finally rise, together we set forth through the unknown mountain scape seeking the right and true path. Once you found your yearning, I brought you clear vision and focus, bringing ambition into action, which led you promptly to fulfillment. Together we shall dance in celebration of unbridled truth.
Holy Maiden Huntress, Artemis – We bid thee Hail and Welcome!
Ritual Purpose This ritual is a celebration of my friend’s transformation and becoming. The deeply personal journey of over a decade, in actuality a lifetime, has come full circle into new beginnings… once a longing for wholeness, now fully manifest.
She wishes to honor her journey with gratitude and to relish rebirth with reverence as she is initiated into the sisterhood of Artemis.
Honoring the Former The Initiate enters the circle cloaked and reads a letter she has written to her former self. It reflects on the gratitude to the vessel and to the mind that enabled good health and great success.
Officiant Honors the Former You came into my life over 20 years ago. It has always felt like a gift to know you and to bear witness to the fullness of your ability to live your life not only open to receiving but with an insistence on attainment. You grab life by the shoulders and live it. I love that about you. Thank you for inviting me to be your friend.
Honoring Her Wholeness Initiate drops her cloak, to reveal her body transformed and reads a declaration of intention to her new self.
Officiant Honors Her Wholeness Dear one, I always felt honored to be invited into your journey of self-discovery. For so long I witnessed your dance with finding your true expression and what must have been monumental decisions to be made about what constitutes your personal sense of wholeness. Today, I honor your truth and celebrate your glorious transformation into womanhood. Welcome to the light, beautiful being. If you would grace me with the honor, I would invite you to be my sister. Are you ready to be initiated? [Dedicant replies, “Yes!”]
ARTEMIS INITIATION INTO WOMANHOOD The officiant stands before the dedicant and says: “Better ye fall upon this blade than to enter into this rite with fear in your heart. Who are you?” [dedicant speaks her name]
“Why have you come?” Dedicant replies, [“I have come to be initiated into the mysteries of womanhood and to pledge my devotion to Artemis.” She shares her story of how Artemis came into her life.]
Dedicant is asperged with salt water, “By water and earth do I bless and consecrate this sacred vessel.”
Dedicant is smudged with burning sage, “By fire and air do I cleanse and purify this sacred vessel.”
Officiant washes Dedicant’s hands with rainwater, and states, “The light of Her moon illuminates your path. She brings you the gift of clear vision and deep knowing.”
Officiant annoints Dedicant’s forehead with Artemis Oil and states, “The light of Her moon illuminates your path. She brings you the gift of being authentic to the world and true to yourself.”
Officiant pours from her own chalice into the Dedicant’s chalice, a symbol of womb wisdom shared, and says, “The light of Her moon illuminates your path. She brings you the gift of healing wisdom and nurturing comfort.”
Officiant places the Artemis amulet at the Dedicant’s throat and says, “The light of Her moon illuminates your path. She brings you the gift of being grounded, centered, and one with nature.”
Both raise their chalices and recite, “Hail Maiden, full of grace, Power is with Thee. Blessed are you, Artemis of the Moon, and Blessed are those you have chosen. Holy Huntress, Protector of the Wild, be with us now and always. Blessed be.” They take a drink.
The officiant says to the newly initiated, “You have been in liminal space these many years. You have been the caterpillar inside your holy chrysalis in a state of sacred becoming. Now, you are the butterfly. Artemis is the ancient and wise midwife of souls and She has seen you reborn. Daughter of Artemis, WELCOME TO THE LIGHT! You are perfection in your wholeness and you are loved without condition. You and I, we are Sisters of Artemis. Hail and Welcome, [NAME] of Artemis!
Blessing for (Re)Birth (slightly adapted from John O’Donohue’s To Bless the Space Between Us) Blessed be the mind that dreamed the day the blueprint of your life would begin to glow on earth, Illuminating all the faces and voices that would arrive to invite your soul to growth. Praised be your father and mother, who loved you before you were, and trusted to call you here with no idea who you would be. Blessed be those who have loved you into becoming who you were meant to be, Blessed be those who have crossed your life with dark gifts of hurt and loss that have helped to school your mind in the art of disappointment. When desolation surrounded you, Blessed be those who looked for you and found you, their kind hands urgent to open a blue window in the gray wall formed around you. Blessed be the gifts you never notice, your health, eyes to behold the world, thoughts to countenance the unknown, memory to harvest vanished days, your heart to feel the world’s waves, your breath to breathe the nourishment of distance made intimate by earth. On this echoing day of your rebirth, may you open the gift of solitude in order to receive your soul; enter the generosity of silence to hear your hidden heart; know the serenity of stillness to be enfolded anew by the miracle of your being.
Farewell to Artemis Holy Maiden, beloved goddess of moonlight and wilderness, we are grateful for your many blessings and for your presence in this sacred rite of rebirth as your devotee has been initiated into your holy company of sacred beings. May she forever be protected by your bow, may her every endeavor be pierced by your silver arrows, may she receive your messages of guidance with clarity, and may she always be grounded in the foundation of your love. With reverence and grace, we bid thee hail and farewell.
Farewell to the Elements We are grateful to the Great Bear of the North, to the King Stag of the West, to the Wild Hounds of the South, and to the Golden Bees of the East. Thank you for your blessings of bone and blood, spirit and breath. That you surround us and become us is not lost on us. With reverence and grace, we bid thee hail and farewell.
Opening the Circle This circle may now be open upon the earth, but it is ever cast in the home of protection within the realm of the mighty ones. There, our souls are eternally gathered in sisterhood and in togetherness. Now our minds are one. Now… we are one.
Dear ones, if you’ve been feeling disconnected from your true self and yearning to feel connected and whole, may you be blessed with coming home to yourself and the grand celebration of your beautiful truth. Be sure that among your offerings of great care that you are freely offering that goodness to yourself. And always remember that every day brings another opportunity for rebirth.
Thank you for walking this path with me. I love knowing you are here.
I wonder what our world would look like if each individual could see all others with compassionate curiosity instead of brutal judgment. I grew up an agnostic Unitarian, and this religious foundation offered me the freedom to explore all religions and spiritual paths with a sense of mindful awareness. I could go to church with a friend and ‘try on’ being Lutheran, Baptist, or Catholic (that was the basic diversity of where I grew up). When all those things felt itchy and too tight, I chose to look into Wicca / Paganism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Metaphysics, and Native American beliefs.
Being curious opened doors that were previously blocked by my fears or disinterest. I glory in the freedom to choose the spiritual path that best suits the truth of my soul and in allowing that truth to evolve. I walk through the world with a view that has been crafted and curated with the courage not to settle for the dictates of others. I understand my privilege in doing so.
Being curious rather than judgmental also guides me to a deeper understanding of people and cultures who may be experiencing the world in ways that are different from my own experience.
I live in a State that has recently passed legislation that harms and brutalizes the safe existence of multitudes of its residents. I find it impossible to put myself in the shoes of those who have enacted such psychic, emotional, and horrifically, physical abuse upon others. I can imagine that they feel threatened for some reason, but I fail to understand. Maybe they see their lack of understanding for the individuality of others as a reflection of stupidity (for which they must stand and fight), instead of an opportunity to learn, love, and grow.
June is Pride Month, and also a painful anniversary for our beloved community. Seven years ago, on June 12, 49 sacred souls were taken from us by a single gunman. They were celebrating within a safe space. They should have felt safe anywhere, but right-wing rhetoric destroyed that possibility. So, they went where they felt wanted, appreciated, valued, and invited to be joyfully authentic. A single being, cloaked in self-loathing chose to massacre those who felt the freedom that he denied himself.
I am curious about what those who support this harmful legislation are denying themselves. Who would they be if they refused to be put inside a tiny box of someone else’s construction. Maybe their parents, their peers, or their church communities told them that they could not belong if they dressed in a way that made them feel more alive or spoke their truth about how they were feeling. I wonder if they imagine who they might become if they would choose to toss away the banner of hateful righteousness and find belonging in their authenticity. They might be surprised to realize that they can be loved for being real.
So much of today’s animosity is pointed at the LGBTQ+ Community. Transgender humans and Drag entertainers are being especially terrorized, and those who support them are being targeted, as well. I’d like to imagine a world where the haters could consider compassionate curiosity, rather than close-minded disrespect.
I am a middle-aged, white, cisgender, straight woman. Full disclosure: if I could choose, I would be a lesbian. I prefer the company of women, and I have deeply loved a specific woman, but my sexuality has a mind of its own, unfortunately. Regarding the middle-aged part of my self-definition, I did not grow up with access to the identity terms that our youth are claiming today, as are those who felt they never had the choice before. I understand the resistance that some people feel to allowing individuals the freedom to be recognized, acknowledged, and validated for the declaration of their own truth. It’s hard to learn to use childhood grammar lessons differently. It’s hard to imagine a child, an adolescent, or an adult who has never felt right or safe in their bodies. Or is it?
Compassionate curiosity led me to spend time getting to know the stories of people I’ve grown up with, in the popular culture setting. Chaz Bono and more recently Elliot Page, have courageously, and also necessarily, stepped into the bodies and lives that make them feel safe, authentic, and joyful. My ‘aha’ moment with Chaz was when his mother stated that she found understanding by considering how she would feel if she woke up tomorrow with a penis. She knew that it would feel wrong and that she would want to have it removed. But even more deeply, I felt the truth of something Elliot spoke to Oprah in an AppleTV interview.
Elliot shared the overwhelm he felt at the thought of simply leaving his house. If you think about it, the world expected him to always be seen in drag. But also, just sitting down in a chair, he was painfully aware and deeply self-conscious of all that felt wrong in his body. One’s first thought might be outrage… as ‘this’ body is considered by society to be enviable and perfect. Any young woman should delight in a body that is healthy, fit, and petite. Unless, of course, your soul does not resonate with being a woman.
But what I felt instead was affirming recognition. Not because my private parts don’t resonate with my soul, but because for most of my life, every time I sit down in a chair, I am painfully aware and deeply self-conscious of all that feels wrong in my body. I believed I was fat when I was a size 10, and as my body grew with metabolic disorder, there was no room for a sense of belonging, acceptance, or especially confidence in the body I was born with. I have fantasized for most of my life about having a different body. I have dwelled in the pit of despair with visions of hacking away the flesh of my hips, belly, and thighs. And I have literally had 80% of my stomach cut away for the dream of possibly transforming the body that would make me feel safe, accepted, and loved. Not to mention the truth of having a female body automatically deems one a higher likelihood of being sexually harassed or assaulted. It is rather confusing to want to be seen and loved, while also hoping to be invisible to those who would deliver harm.
Of course, my compassionate curiosity is still limited by my time and ability to get to know the stories of others, and Chaz and Elliot are just two sacred beings among many who are either longing for, seeking, or moving through transformation. What I know for sure is that they each deserve to feel safe and to be nurtured and celebrated for the exploration and work they’ve endured and the truth they’ve declared. There is nothing more beautiful than witnessing the joy of an individual who walks through the world unflinchingly as themselves.
My longing has always been to be loved and accepted for who I am, whether I am seen as flawed or perfect in the eyes of others. Though I cannot relate to an identity other than cisgender, I can imagine that every human longs to be loved and accepted for who they are… not who others expect them to be.
Until those who fight to limit the freedom of authenticity love themselves enough to love others, it is up to the rest of us to be the fierce allies and protectors of those whose lives fall under their hateful aim.
I know a lot is going on astrologically right now, and that a shift is happening. I have been feeling the evolution of my soul in big and small ways. This Pride season, I am flying an all-inclusive flag in my garden (well, it would be a garden if I didn’t have a brown thumb). I had not done so before because I felt it was not my own, it was not within my identity to claim that rainbow pride. But now, I realize that every one of us is represented in these vibrant stripes. Those who see a rainbow and feel outrage must be carrying so much self-hatred, to be unable to see and celebrate their own true colors. May they find peace and comfort in their own divine beauty and no longer feel the need to persecute those who have already found it for themselves.
I’m also feeling led to share a Unitarian tradition of non-violent defiance regarding the pink triangle. I’m attaching a link that tells the story, but I’ll simply acknowledge that flying my pride flag is more than informing others that I care, I am letting them know that I am standing with them. I am enormously proud of who they are, and of who I’ve allowed myself to become.
You are loved exactly as you are. You are worthy of safety, freedom, and authenticity and I celebrate your divine truth with gratitude for your presence in this world which is made more colorful and vibrant with you in it. So, please… stay!
Thank you for walking this path with me. I love knowing you are here.
Four years ago, as I wheeled my friend out of rehab and to my car to take her home after recovering from a fall that broke her femur, she looked up at me and asked, “Why are you doing this?” I suspect she wondered because though we had known each other for 30 years, we hadn’t been particularly close in recent years. What had changed was my freedom to be of service once I left the corporate world. Choosing to simplify my life in order to care for my aging parents, allowed me to be present for other loved ones. My reply was simply, “Showing up is my love language, and I love you. You deserve this.”
The next four years continued to be challenging for my friend and her wife, who was beginning to show signs of what would be a diagnosis of vascular dementia. They were blessed to be active members of their Unitarian Church community for over 30 years, and their friends showed up for them in many ways during those years. The hardest part about holding space for these two sacred beings was feeling as if there was so little we could do to help when so much of the struggle was health-related. But that never stopped dear friends from showing up to do whatever was possible to ease their burden.
When my friend ended up back in the hospital last October, I showed up to take her home after discharge. There were a few things going on in her body. They fixed one issue, and left it up to her to follow up with specialists to address the other issues after discharge. I had learned from my father’s experience in his final years that it would be best to stay in the hospital until you can be seen by the specialists, but for one reason or another, that didn’t happen. She made follow up appointments with three specialists and was able to see one within a couple of weeks. The other two, however, had nothing available until mid-January.
Tragically, by January 3, she and I had returned to the hospital to learn that she had been in heart failure for the last two months. One of the tell-tale signs was that her body had been retaining fluid. Her physical therapist had been wrapping her legs for compression, and when I arrived to take her to the hospital, she had a large water blister on the top of her right foot. You could see the fluid within sloshing around as if it were a snow globe. I told her not to worry about shoes, as I would once again be her wheelchair maiden and her feet would never touch the ground. The ER was quite busy, and as we rolled her from one spot to another in the waiting room, I noticed that the blister had popped, and we were leaving little puddles everywhere.
She was admitted that night, and we learned that a valve in her heart had calcified to be described like a ‘Ritz Cracker’ by the hospitalist. There would be a pig valve replacement required, but they needed to get some of the fluid off of her heart and lungs first. She lost 20 pounds over the next few days, thanks to Lasix. (We were both delighted and fascinated by the new device that vacuumed out her urine, rather than having to be catheterized.) But that wasn’t enough. When we thought we’d reached surgery day, her doctors decided they needed her to get a little stronger in order to have a successful procedure and recovery, so they prescribed a few days of in-house physical therapy.
I had been so focused on helping set-up constant communication to their loved ones, through Caring Bridge, and securing the line-up of compassionately generous friends who would take shifts sitting with her wife, ensuring she was kept nourished, nurtured, and safe, that I hadn’t gotten to the hospital the first week. When she and I talked on the phone the day the procedure was postponed, she told me that when she woke that day, she felt the presence of her Mother. To be clear, these words came from the mouth of my friend who found all metaphysical references to the mystery of what comes next to be impossible to believe. She then asked me, “Do you think that means I’m going to die?”
I assured my friend that her mother was standing by to support her healing and to offer protection, but I did worry. I probably felt that the answer was yes, but that didn’t feel helpful in that moment. Since one of our dearest mutual friends died in 2017, we have often talked through her feelings and fears about death. I once felt as she did, that when you die, that’s it… nothing. But as a skeptical believer, over many years of exploration and mindful practices, I have found resonance with firm belief in something different.
Ten days after arrival, my friend’s nurse called to inform me that her heart had stopped pumping and that they were taking her to ICU, that a pump would be installed at her groin, and I later learned that the installation procedure had caused her kidneys to shut down. They put her on dialysis. When they realized she couldn’t swallow without choking, because she had to lie flat with the pump in place, they inserted a feeding tube. For the next couple of days, she slept often and was difficult to understand when she tried to speak. Meanwhile, I was holding Zoom Healing Circles with people who loved our friend from all areas of her life and from all over the country. Each morning that followed, as we waited for the medical team to come by, I would play the recording of the voices she adored. I asked her if she knew how loved she was, and she said, “no”. She couldn’t believe that so many people were showing up for her.
Her sister decided to come from afar, and I offered her sanctuary. Later, we would tell my friend how lucky we felt that she had brought us together… her best kept secret – after 30 years, how much her sister and I had in common. One afternoon, a doctor entered the room and asked which one of us was ‘the sister’. My new friend’s reply, “I’m her bio-sister and she’s (pointing to me) her soul-sister.”
Each morning, we would pull an oracle card for our beloved, before heading to the hospital, and we would pay attention to signs from the universe. We were of one-mind, on the same page. One morning, my new soul-sister alerted me to a white rabbit in my backyard. I have lived in this house for 25 years and this was a first! What I heard in my head was, “I’m late! I’m late, for a very important date!” My interpretation was that we should not waste any time. Our beloved would soon be departing.
She had seemingly rallied at the arrival of her sister, so her step-daughter questioned whether she should tell her son to come now or to wait. I encouraged her to get him here now. Far better to have time with her while able to speak to him. He booked a flight to arrive on Friday. Exchanging a sister for a grandson… the changing of the guard.
On Thursday, we finally heard from the cardiothoracic surgeon. He said that we were running out of options, and that the remaining ‘Hail, Mary’ possibility would be to punch a hole in the valve to see if the heart would start working on its own again, but that procedure came with great risk. On the phone, he presented it as an option that must be taken ASAP. I told him that her grandson and sister-in-law would be here soon. I asked if it could wait until next week. His concern was that waiting would allow time for more to go wrong.
When I told my friend what the doctor had indicated, she understood it to be the only chance she had to continue. She decided that she wanted to do it. I informed the nurse and left the room. I went to the bathroom and cried. Then, I called her important people to come. I asked her about her fears, and she shared that she was afraid that when death arrived it would be like turning out the light. She didn’t want to leave because she hated to miss anything. I asked her to join me in suspending disbelief, and to consider that when she left behind her broken body, she would be unlimited as she would return to the light of truth. She would then be able to be everywhere, all at once.
We were all gathered around our friend when the doctor came to see her. His language was a bit different than it had been when we spoke on the phone. He suggested that perhaps she should wait, and spend the weekend with the family who would soon arrive. He also explained what the trauma of using every means to save her life might look like, and she agreed that either now or in the middle of the postponed procedure, she did not care to have a 300 pound man climb on top of her to pound her chest. We appreciated the way he added a bit of humor to the very real information he was giving her, which was… that he was highly recommending a Do Not Resuscitate order, because she was nearing the end of life.
And just like that, we understood that we were not going to lose our beloved on an operating table that day. We were simultaneously heartbroken and relieved. Together, we sang the most stunning rendition of “Spirit of Life” by Carolyn McDade, that I’ve ever heard. I call it the Unitarian theme song. It goes like this: “Spirit of life come unto me, sing in my heart all the stirrings of compassion. Blow in the wind, rise in the sea, move in the hand giving life the shape of justice. Roots hold me close, wings set me free, spirit of life come to me, come to me.” We would sing that song several times more over the next few days.
During these difficult days in the hospital, friends were holding space for her wife. We wondered how much she would retain about her wife’s condition, as her memory was challenged to retain much of anything from moment to moment. In one conversation with a friend, she had reportedly referred to her wife as being in the hospital and having a lot wrong with her, looking forward to her getting better and joining her in their future home in assisted living, not knowing if she would ‘make it’, and that she was already dead. I felt so fascinated by this recounting from our mutual sister-friend, as it reminded me of a sci-fi series that featured a quantum traveler being unstuck in time. It seemed as if dementia could possibly be described as such… being untethered from reality, while being able to visit the future, as well as the past.
Also happening during this timeframe, was the parallel hospitalizations of my life long friend’s mother. The day after I was in the ER with my friend, my favorite tomboy was in the ER with her Mom. Understanding the second half of life is certainly cemented when we find ourselves walking mindfully with our aging loved ones, wanting to ensure their safety and wellness, while holding our breath to prolong the number of days we will be blessed to share. Her mom would be in the hospital a few times that month. I visited with her, upon request, to help determine her wishes for care, as her kids worried she would choose rehab so not to be a burden to them. I advised against it, knowing that she would just be left in bed as a fall risk for all but 30 minutes a day. I knew she was better off at home.
My favorite tomboy told me that after that visit her mom said to her, “I think Missy thinks I’m dying.” I hadn’t really felt that she was, but I did realize that having walked so mindfully with death these last few years allows me to be in a constant conversation with it. It seems to me that death is always near and that it is worth our time to honor it, make peace with it, and then get on with living.
Back in the ICU, I was there each morning to greet the team of doctors and specialists who would brief each other on each patient in the unit. Each morning I would ask if we were at the point of hopelessness, and each morning they would indicate that we may be close, but not yet.
One afternoon after the decision to do the procedure had been postponed, my favorite tomboy (MFT) and our other childhood angel sat in my living room discussing the health concerns for both our mutual friend in ICU and MFT’s Mom. I looked out my front window to witness a flurry of wings, as a frenzy of birds danced at the feeder. There were Grackles and Titmice, and something else… maybe a Wren or a Warbler. I’d never seen anything like it! My logical mind considered that it might have something to do with a migratory path, but that didn’t make sense. I’m in Florida, and these birds are here all year. What I heard in my mind was that the spirit of our friend was gathering strength and preparing to fly. Looking back , I can feel the flutter in my chest and the truth that was being revealed.
On Sunday, I pulled an oracle card for my friend, and it felt ominous. Since I had a lunch date on the 22nd, I had planned to go to the hospital later that afternoon. I checked in with my friend’s family during their morning visit, and they reported she had discomfort in her belly, and an x-ray appeared to show possible constipation. During lunch, another friend who was visiting called me to report that test results had come back on her platelets that revealed her body was destroying them. That would mean any procedure would be prohibited due to her inability to clot. I set down the phone and cried into my hands. I was also told that they were taking her for a CT scan of her abdomen because her pain was increasing.
Shortly after my arrival, our medical team arrived with the results of the scan. Our beloved being had received her final blow. A perforated bowel. Of course, they could do nothing to repair it, as she would have bled out. Once again, I had to give my friend the bad news. As I explained it to her, and asked her to tell me what she was thinking, she expressed feeling baffled by how things went downhill so fast. She said to me, “So, there’s no hope?” “That’s right, my love. The doctors say we have to let you go. They will protect you from the pain of sepsis, and you will not suffer nor be alone.” I asked her if she knew how loved she was, and without hesitation, she spoke a resounding, “YES!”
Reflecting on that moment now, it feels as if, after weeks of waiting, we were suddenly on fast-forward. Things seemed to move so quickly. I called the family and closest friends to come. Paperwork was signed. I asked our beloved community to read the Phowa Practice for the transformation of our dear one’s soul into the Light of Truth. I let my mother know that I would not be home that night. Like my father before her, I would walk my soul-sister into the underworld.
The vigil was long. Twelve hours from her last words to me, “So there’s no hope?” Our beautiful being was tended by her wife of 43 years, her sister-in-love, her step-daughter, her soul-daughter, and her grandson. Her minister and her friends were there to sing her through the process of letting go. Shortly after 5am, I found myself following her breath with rapt attention. Just when I wondered if there would be another breath, it would come. I knew that her soul had already found its freedom, but that sacred vessel that had carried her light for so long was so loyal that it refused to stop doing its job.
Throughout the night, we had taken turns speaking our love into ears we’ve been told can still hear our words. One soul-sister sang to her, another joined me in reading aloud the Phowa Practice for the transformation of her soul back into the light of all that is. And I finally read to her the oracle card I had pulled the morning before everything had gone so wrong. From Alana Fairchild’s Journey of Love deck, I read, THE VOID:
“At the ending of every cycle, and the beginning of every cycle, there is a moment of transition. It may last for any amount of time – a moment of feeling, or many years of deep inner work whilst feeling displaced. The transition may require patience to endure the absence of knowing, the lack of certainty about who you are and why you are here on this planet. A void may open up between one moment of meeting with your lover and the seemingly endless stretch of time – even if it is only days that seem as though they are eternal in duration – as you wait to reconnect again.
Yet if you can accept that entry into the cosmic void as preparation for your next cycle of manifestation, if you can accept that darkness is holding you with love, not with unfeelingness, then you can relax and let the preparation be what it must be. Then you can be well equipped for the next steps forward on your glorious divine adventure this lifetime, meeting the beloved – whether divine or human lover – in a fresh new moment, excited, open and curious, always.
This oracle brings you guidance. There are parts of your own process unfolding that you simply cannot know about yet. It will not always be this way, but for now, it is most helpful for you to only deal with what is immediately before you. All else will be shown when the time is right. There is growing to be done and then the void will bring forth the next step on your path to meet you. You do not have to worry and you do not have to search. Be present. Be patient. When you can do something, do it, when you cannot, just be. Your time will soon come. If you are holding a question about relationship – surrender it into the void and let it become what it must be according to spiritual wisdom and love.
A coming together A blending of one Where understanding Spans the space between And separation disappears To form Anew”
As others rested their eyes, I laced my arm through the bedrail and placed her left hand over my right, then stroked her hand with my left, as I spoke aloud. “Thank you, sacred vessel, for carrying the soul of our beloved these many years. Thank you for breathing life into this remarkable woman who was a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a wife, a step-mother, a grandmother, a musician, an artist, a counselor to many grateful hearts, and most importantly to me… a true friend. I know it is hard for you to let go of the sacred responsibility you’ve carried these 78 years, but it is time now to let go. For as long as we have breath, we will sing your name to the stars. Our beloved is now one with the Light of Love, and it is time for you to finally rest.
I must have gasped as I recognized her final breath, as everyone came to the bedside to hold our sweet beloved as we tried one final round of “Spirit of Life”. But we choked on our tears and quietly witnessed the slowing heart monitor until it transitioned into stillness. As I type these words, I look at the time to see it is 9:11. It was her birthday and it is now my new angel number. When I see it, I will know she is near.
When she was gone, her wife asked me, “What do we do now?” I explained what next steps would look like, and a few minutes later, she asked again. I know that her consciousness, clouded by dementia, was really saying to me, “What will I do without her?” As the nurse was doing her final exam, I lifted the sheet to see my friend’s feet. I felt a cord at my solar plexus pull me backward in time as I saw the bandage still wrapped around the site of the water blister on her right foot. Suddenly, she and I were rolling through the ER, leaving puddles everywhere. It was now January 23, and this was not the outcome either of us expected twenty days before.
Together, we exited the hospital, an exhausted tribe of devotees. It was 6:30am and our beloved had been gone for an hour and seemingly forever. I went home and slept for a few hours. At 11am, my phone rang and I heard the voice of my friend’s widow, “I’m calling to let you know that Sharon died.” “I know, honey. I was with you all night. Do you remember?” “That’s right, I remember now. Thanks for all you’ve done for us.”
The next day, I met the family at my friends’ home. The neighbors came out to ask about our beloved, and her widow told them that she had died. I affirmed that we had just lost her yesterday, and her wife was shocked to hear it, for she felt it had happened two weeks before. I continue to be curious about this affliction. The brain that is starved of oxygen seems capable of time travel. I am hopeful that it helps with grieving, for this beautiful being lost so much more than her wife, she has also lost her home, having moved into memory care for the lack of a constant companion and the need of greater care. I cannot fathom the shock of it all.
There is still so much to write, but I will save it for another post. What I am most grateful for is that I was able to show up for my friend during the most difficult days of her life and throughout her transition into the mystery of what comes next. Further, I am so enormously pleased that I had the opportunity to be mindful with my love and gratitude for the gifts my friend had unknowingly given me. By loving her, I was given the opportunity to speak with and write to her many friends and family members over the days that followed our fated final ER visit. I have met her people and now claim them as my own. I got to thank her for it while she could consciously acknowledge my thankfulness, with a reply of, “I’m so glad.”
In a recent text exchange with her sister, she signed off with, “I love you most”, and I replied, “As your sister would reply to me, I love you best.” She told me to hold onto those words, and I assure you… they are mine for all time.
Thank you for walking this path with me. And thank you for sending your love to surround the widow of my dear friend. May she have all she needs to feel safe and cared for until she is ready to join her wife for their next grand adventure.
Two big things happened in my life a year ago. My soul-sister fell in love, and my father died. That time in my life was proof that we humans can hold space for every emotion, all at once. I was simultaneously heart-filled and heartbroken.
I held space for my dear friend through her darkest depths, and was blessed to bear witness to the moment she found her person. I had never seen her so happy, and knowing that her darkness had finally found illumination brought me enormous joy and peace. Meanwhile, I was holding space for my father’s physical decline, his struggles with body betrayal, and finally… an end to that struggle. Death is always bittersweet when the ache of a loved one’s suffering is replaced by their absence.
Since my friend also cared for my father, she was painfully aware of the limits of time with those we love, and she did not hesitate to take action, once she had found the soul who brought her spirit back to life. She sold everything and moved north. So, for nearly as long as I have been missing my father’s physical presence, I have also been missing hers.
From afar, she held space for all of the ‘firsts’ without my Pop, and as the anniversary of his death and her birthday grew near, she invited me to come up for a weekend adventure. They had plans to RV over to Provincetown (MA) to see friends, and it wasn’t long before everything fell into place as magick was revealed.
This journey would allow me to be in the state where my father grew up on the anniversary of his death. Further, a stop in a place he had written about in his #MemoirsForMelissa would be easily on our path, either to or from. I knew I was being led to carry some of his cremated remains back to a place he cherished in his youth. For me, it felt like a pilgrimage.
Once again, my lifelong friends supported my journey with inspiration, enthusiasm and great care. When you find the people who are genuinely happy and supportive of your own happiness, and will do everything possible to see you through every opportunity to attain it – you know that you are truly blessed. One asked me if there would be a ceremony to honor Pop on the trip, and that’s when that seed was planted. One generously booked my flights with her buddy pass. And one was my driver to and from the airport (actually, she sent her hubby on the homebound trip, which was a nice surprise). Also, my brother came up to care for Mom, and they both delighted in having each other to themselves for a few days. And of course, my friend and her wife graciously made room for me on their previously scheduled journey. The Universe clearly conspired to make it happen.
It is not every friend who chooses a partner to whom I feel immediately connected. But finally meeting in person the love of my friend’s life, felt like a homecoming. We are family, and it was written in the stars. These two were blessed to find each other, and I feel blessed to bear witness. They carried me with them on an adventure and held space for the surprising emotions that would rise and the magick that would be revealed. I am grateful.
I flew into their hometown and we loaded up the RV (christened The Honey Pot) with provisions and two golden retrievers, then drove eastbound toward the Cape (Cod, that is). In North Truro and PTown, we met up with several of their friends, many of whom were meeting in person for the first time. Each were warm, welcoming beings who made me feel included despite this being my first introduction. They have built a caring, mindful, loving community through social media, and this technology reminds me of the harm it has caused, but also the beauty of connection it has delivered. Like we humans, the internet holds both darkness and light.
Provincetown, to me, was a mixed bag. I seem to have lost interest in shopping since having chosen to live more simply. Mostly, I was delighted by the people watching. In this beautiful place, people feel safe to be authentic. Nothing fills my soul more than seeing individuals express their true nature with confidence and acceptance. Our society’s insistence on conformity is confounding. I would rather die than be subjected to a world filled with sameness. When you find yourself surrounded by a community that has left behind the places that punished them for their truth, you cannot help but feel overwhelmed by the joy of their expressive realness.
We were in PTown for Dad’s death anniversary (July 17), and found a delightful outdoor spot for lunch. As I was looking into the eyes of my dear friend with gratitude to be sharing her birthday with her, I suddenly burst into tears. I’d been told how grief sneaks up on you when you least expect it, and there it was. As she comforted me, my friend glanced at her phone and said aloud, “It’s 2:02. Pop is here.” And we knew it was true. It was the exact moment, one year ago, that his heart stopped. My angel number. When I see it, I know he is near.
Later that afternoon, one of the kind and generous souls in their group swung by the campground to pick us up. As we drove to the beach where we would gather and bounce upon salty waves, the radio did that thing it does. The night before we let Dad go, I set up his tablet to play music he enjoyed. I had asked him to find a way to communicate with me in ways I could understand. As I questioned whether he was ready to go and if I was being true to his wishes, he played three songs for me. The first one was the same as what came over the car radio… Sailing by Christopher Cross. The line that stood out to me on that difficult night at his bedside was, “Soon I will be free.”
The next day, we packed up the RV and made our way to the place I had most anticipated. Twenty years before his death, my father showed up for me. I had asked him to write down stories from his life that I could have when he was gone. Mom had reported that he had been honoring my request, and though I knew they were out there somewhere, I waited until he was gone to find them and read them. My brother found them last Thanksgiving (our first without Pop), and I shared one story per day with my friends and family on FB.
This is the story he left, that inspired this sojourn… from Bill Baker’s Memoirs for Melissa
From the Family Archive – Bakers by the Shore
“One of Dad’s customers owed him a couple of hundred dollars during the war years and signed over the deed to a “summer cottage” in Humarock, close to Scituate near Cape Cod. It was a little box of a place on an island between a river and the Atlantic with a bedroom, kitchen, half-bathroom, living/dining room, and a little porch. No electricity. No bath or shower. Icebox. Gas stove. No heat, no A/C. Loft above the bedroom and bathroom space for 2 kids to sleep. Ladder to pull down and climb up to go to bed. Comic books for color entertainment. (Dad had a customer who did PR for a bunch of Buster Brown shoe stores and he would bring Dad all the comics as he replaced them each month). We would go there when school was out (The House in East Milton, and later the big house on Elliot St would boil in the summer (No A/C remember), and stay until the weekend before Labor Day when school started in the fall.
I remember one night at the beach, the air raid marshal knocked on the door to tell us our lights were showing through the black curtains every window had. He was afraid the light could be seen by a submarine out in the ocean. Beth and I turned out the light in our upstairs bedroom and went to sleep. The next day, I was running along the sand dunes on the ocean side, and when I jumped over the top, down into a little depression, I was surprised by a huge German shepherd and a coast guardsman watching over a big machine gun. He was there to keep Germans from coming ashore from submarines. I stayed away from the dunes after dark for the rest of the war.”
I had reached out to one of Dad’s cousins who still lives up north, and her eldest sister reflected warmly on those years, visiting her cousins on the beach. She was able to give me a better idea of where they spent their summers. The cottage was to the right after crossing the bridge, and on the river side, rather than the ocean side.
My friends and I left the RV in a parking spot at the bridge’s edge and walked past where my Dad and his brothers fished when they were kids, and out to the oceanside beach. I read Pop’s words above and offered a cup of his ashes to the waves in which he once played. A gentle rain began to fall. Then, we walked over to the riverside. I didn’t have an address for their cottage and imagined it would have been replaced by something more modern. We turned at the fire station and walked by the first house from the bridge to a public area with access to the river. My friend and I each offered what was left of Pop’s cremains to the water, rock, and mud of another area I was sure had carried his small feet, once upon a time.
I didn’t take many pictures but captured videos to share with family. The three of us then popped into the Irish Pub on the corner, between the ocean and river for a late lunch. I met a man named Don sitting at the bar as I passed to wash my hands. I told him the story my father had shared and he assured me that my grandparents’ cottage was still there. He’d been living there for 65 years and knew that if a house had changed, it was never torn down, but added to. Maybe someday I’ll learn the address and visit once more. Don also let me know that the restaurant we were in would have been the post office and a small general store during World War II, so my father would surely have been there, as well. When I sat down at the table with my friends, I looked at my phone. It was 2:02.
After lunch, my friend wanted to stop in the gift shop across the street. To be honest, I’m not really a shopper anymore. But I was happy to pop in with my sweet friend who helped manifest this moment for me. The first row to the left offered shirts and sweatshirts branded for this beach. As I stepped around to the next aisle, I found a carousel of jewelry. There were two necklaces at the top that faced me, one was an arrow (a significant symbol in my life), and the other was a name… Melissa. You can poo-poo synchronicity all you want, but I know for sure that magick was afoot. Pop was present, as always.
My friend purchased a souvenir for each of us, and as she checked out I told my Dad’s story to the clerk. She said there was a local historian I would love to talk to, and said he had even written a book about the history of Humarock. I felt compelled to purchase a copy to take home to Mom and share with Dad’s siblings. I later handed it to Mom, and she said that Dad would have loved it. I said, “I know! He made me buy it!”
We would have loved to linger in that sacred place, but we had a long journey home and I had a flight to catch the next morning. I felt so blessed to have walked in my father’s footsteps with my darling friend and her beloved. It was a moment filled with a history, a present, and a future of the manifestation of true love. My grandparents’ love for each other brought into this world my father and his siblings who spent their summers in this place of beauty. My parents’ love for each other brought my brother and me into this world, and the love that my friend found by divine providence brought us three together on this pilgrimage. And though my father is no longer physically in this world, his love and our love will continue to resonate and grow for all time. Like the restaurant that once was a post office, it may change but it never goes away.
View from the Honey Pot (RV) – Long and Thankful Journey Home
Thanks for showing up, Pop. You know that’s my love language, and you never let me down. Keep sending me the signs. I’ll wait right here.
Thank you for walking this path with me. I love knowing you are here.
The book I published in April was dedicated to the archetypal feminine in Her form of Goddess of the Underworld. Persephone is both goddess of death and springtime – dark and light. As women (also true of men), we carry this duality within us. We carry light and darkness, joy and sorrow, happiness and rage (just to name a few) which find expression through life experience as we learn and grow.
When my Tribe was birthed at Imbolc of 1994, we each brought into the circle the energy of a specific goddess. I remember moving around the circle to greet and honor each altar, and being astonished by the number of dark goddesses represented. I had to check my notes to see which maiden goddess I identified with at the time. Any guesses? It was Persephone, sacred daughter whose arrival delivers the beauty of blossoms. I’d forgotten that historic morsel of goodness, and it filled me with delight to realize how She has been with me and within me through a 27-year evolution of my soul’s purpose.
I remember feeling a sense of mystery around the dark goddesses. Not quite fearful, but somewhat trepidatious. It was an energy that felt unfamiliar to me at that time in my life. I was 25, and just at the precipice of my becoming – ready to dive into a spiritual journey that would make my life so full, it was beyond my imagining.
I’ve certainly come to understand the dark goddess in an intimate way in the last three decades. She is Hecate, Goddess of the Crossroads; Kali, the destroyer who clears away what no longer serves us; Cerridwen, into whose cauldron we are received and renewed. She is the Crone. She is the wise one who knows all. She is the bringer of death who initiates us all into the mystery of what comes next. I have come to love Her in ways my 25-year old self could not. I had so much to live and learn. She has been the innocent maiden who was violated, and the young mother who was fiercely protective of her young, and now she is a survivor who has seen it all and fears nothing.
Last week’s news from the Supreme Court about the horrific overturn of the ruling that has protected the reproductive rights and health safety of women for most of my life, brought that day of rebirth immediately to mind. I will share the truth of my thoughts and emotions to paint a picture of how the dark goddess archetype rises in the soul of a woman who has been betrayed and brutalized by her own countrymen.
She is rising with fierce rage for hard-won freedoms that were stolen in an instant. She is the hunter with her bow, sending arrows flying to take down her oppressors. She is riding on the back of a tiger, with scythe and spear to protect those who will surely come to harm for their careless action.
To be clear, I do not advocate violence. You could say that I am Christ-like, in the way that I believe that all beings are worthy of love and should be treated as such. The way fundamentalist Christians these days fight harder for their right to carry a gun than for the safety and protection of our school children, I wonder what kind of gun they think Jesus would carry. I’m not Christian, but it is my impression that he would rather die than bring harm to another sacred soul. That is how I feel. If it is my time to die, I will go. I will not dim my light through fear and violence.
However, when I heard that on the same day this despised court (currently at a 25% approval rating) removed the federal protection of our right to not give birth, they affirmed the right for us to carry concealed firearms, I thought… GOOD! With this news and the ludicrous ‘Stand Your Ground’ law that freed the murderer of Trayvon Martin, now, women can carry a pistol, and when a Republican man comes anywhere near her, she can shoot him in the testicles because she feels unsafe and threatened by his presence in her personal space. After all, any pregnancy has the potential to kill a woman. That is the bottom line. How dare anyone force that possible outcome on any sacred being! She must only go there by CHOICE!
As they removed our right to privacy (still confused why HIPPA laws don’t protect the privacy of patients and doctors for ALL healthcare and medical procedures), I thought, COOL! No more privacy. Now women can learn a man has issues getting it up, and decide not to swipe right! Better yet, she can choose only men who have verifiably been snipped. Vasectomies prevent abortion nearly 100% – it’s better than birth control!
When the news broke, I received a text from a friend who could not stop crying. She was angry, sad, scared, and she wondered if I also wanted to burn the patriarchy to the ground. Well… yes. Always. I do.
With the news of what we have lost, I immediately thought of the many times I have held space for the darkness of others. Were it not for Roe V Wade, someone I love would have been forced to give birth at the age of 11. So courageous was she, to survive and continue to thrive after a horrific beginning of sexual abuse… how different it might have been had there been no other option but for this child to give birth to a child. She called me, as well. She saw the news while in a meeting, and later puked up black bile. We cried together as she drove home. She gave me permission to speak her truth. It must be known what has been stolen. Republicans must know what horrors to which they have condemned our girls.
My favorite tomboy and I already had plans to meet after work. When she entered my home, we hugged each other longer than usual. We met in kindergarten, and share a similar world view. We both felt the horror of what was to come in 2016, when the US election became an abomination. Any intuitive being on the planet could see what was to come. We felt it. We marched for it. We cried about the probable future. That future is now. We are still crying. But not for long. The dark goddess is rising.
The next morning I prepared for my weekly call with my Sacred Gardeners. I pulled two oracle cards as a kind of meditation to begin our call and end it. The cards are inevitably perfect for setting the stage for deep conversation and holding space. They were exactly what we needed to hear in this moment. The first from Alana Fairchild’s Sacred Rebels Oracle and the other from her Rumi Oracle.
From Sacred Rebels we drew, RELAX THE HOLD OF DARKNESS AND BE AT CAUSE. An excerpt: “If the sacred rebel is not awakened, we will continue to live in a culture drenched in fear and distrust of nature. Those without awakened hearts don’t yet understand what nature knows – she knows timing, she knows life and death, she knows the creative process, she just knows – and can be trusted to support us, her own creations, in becoming all that we can become.”
From Rumi we drew, SACRED SOUL SISTER. An excerpt: “No matter how out of control life may seem, she’s letting you know all is proceeding just as it should and that her will shall manifest. Her will is your wholeness, your completion. Her will must manifest and shall, because her will is nature. It is growth. It is God. She is God, in you, now. Remember that and you’ll realize (f you don’t mind the ending being told before the last chapter) that everything’s going to be okay….”
As we each checked-in, after grounding and centering in sacred space, we shared in brave space how we were experiencing the heartbreaking news of the day before. Those present were no longer threatened by the possibility of unwanted pregnancy, and yet, we all carried the same weight of sorrow and rage.
I was profoundly affected by the testimony of one of my sacred gardeners, who at 86 with severe vascular dementia, has long been my personal hero. She and her wife, long before I met them, were extremely active in the National Organization for Women (NOW). She reminded us that when she was born, women had gained the right to vote, but were still living limited lives. She can’t remember what she has spoken moments ago, but she remembers growing up during World War II, and how women stepped up to fill the needs of a country at war, as men left to serve overseas. She witnessed women stepping into their power and then the expectation they should simply give it back when the war came to an end.
It took my breath away to acknowledge that she was among those who fought for my right to choose my personal autonomy over the expectations of others, and that she may not live to see that right returned to her daughter and great-granddaughters, and all other girls and women for whom she marched, and fought, and served in her lifetime.
When I served in clinic defense with other warrior women (and a few men) in the 1990s, I met a woman who had three children on three different forms of birth control. She was there to protect and serve the girls and women who were choosing a different path than the alternative outcome of unwanted pregnancy. I was reminded that I was an IUD baby. What I know for sure is that if my mother had chosen to end that pregnancy that she and my father had not planned, it would have been the right choice. Every argument against a woman’s right to choose her own autonomy is wrong. Period. The End.
The US has been on this trajectory of destroying women’s freedom since the Reagan era. If you listen to the words he used to manipulate the masses, they were filled with false rhetoric to build on the fears of those who carry a lack-mentality. They bought the lies that would take us further from caring for one another because they were certain there was not enough for them.
In recent years, I found myself stepping carefully through the field of terminology. When a former roommate became defensive when I posted a meme of gratitude for having not become more conservative, he wanted me to understand he had not voted for tRump, but that he voted against Hillary Clinton on a third party candidate. I decided I would refer to the ‘GOP’, instead of ‘Republicans’ to differentiate those who were elected and those who were supportive of enabling an admitted sexual predator, domestic bully and terrorist from those who were decidedly not liberal Democrats.
From this point forward, I no longer care to be cautious with my words. The truth, in my lifetime, has always been that the Republican party stands on a platform that is solely committed to destroying the protection of women’s reproductive healthcare, removing affordable healthcare from those who need it most, enabling domestic terrorism through unrestricted rights to carry weapons of mass violence, murder, and destruction, removing the rights and protections of LGBTQ+ American citizens, and filling their pockets while stepping over those who lack the privilege they possess and ensure.
If you are reading this and are offended by the way that others see you, I challenge you to take a good long look at the truth of the party to which you have sold your soul. If you say that you don’t agree with what I’ve written, but that you are fiscally conservative, and therefore a Republican… you are lying to yourself… and you deserve better. Every Republican administration in my lifetime has blown the national debt to oblivion, while the Democrat administrations have reduced or even completely resolved them (Clinton left us with a surplus – immediately destroyed by Bush).
Any vote for a Republican, from this point forward (as ever), is a vote for the murder of women and children (either by forced pregnancy, life-threatening despair, or gun violence). One must come to terms with the internalized patriarchy and misogyny that leads one to be able to sleep at night knowing what horrors you have enabled.
Women and girls will die from ectopic pregnancies or naturally failed pregnancies that become septic. You will say that you are protecting the souls of the unborn, but that is a lie, too. The soul arrives with the first breath, not with the dividing of cells (affirmed in your Bible, as well as by psychic mediums and channels). More children will be born into poverty, a burden, and unwanted. These will be the ones who carry their ‘God-given’ guns you protected into school rooms to murder the children who were wanted, cherished, and chosen. You will not support these burdened women and girls, nor the children they were forced to bear. You will vote against their welfare, their living wages, and their physical and mental healthcare. You will not choose to become a foster or adoptive parent. You will blame the women and girls for the rising crime rates, too. Your religious beliefs will never be valid as long as you are voting Republican, for there is nothing Christ-like about that party. Please, prove me wrong.
If you are of the mind that minorities are becoming a majority, and that feels frightening to you, I hope you have figured out that white women of privilege will have the ability to travel for the requirement of their autonomy (paid for by married politicians, no doubt). You are, therefore, celebrating at the loss of Roe, a future that ensures you will be in the minority sooner rather than later. Personally, I can’t wait. The reason you fear being a minority is that you might be treated the way you have treated others. May your karmic reward be made manifest!
Sooo…. that was an example of channeling the dark goddess. I won’t take it back. I will, however, find my own balance that mingles with light. I will honor the rage and horror while nurturing the love and light that harkens the arrival of a new age.
The eyes of the world are watching what happens next. Mid-term elections have been fortified by this SCOTUS decision. The intuitive way-showers I follow assure us that this moment in our history is a catalyst. Fundamentalism and Fascism have partnered for American destruction of democracy and fundamental freedom. This moment has revealed the shadows hidden by darkness and all is illuminated. Women in the US have been living in the illusion of equality, when it was far from reality. That is going to change! We became complacent, taking for granted the hard-won right to vote has brought us to the brink of losing it, along with others. For now, we still have a right to light.
You brought the darkness. We have lit our torches. The light is returning. Prepare to Burn!
It has been quite a while since I’ve written in this sacred space. One reason is that I’ve been nurturing a project that will soon come to birth. Another reason is that in a world of chaos it is difficult to find clarity through which words may rise. My writing moves through me, and begins with fingers on the keyboard with a request to the Universe for the gift of words that might bring light. Today, the image and words that arrived were related to the familiar phrase–sink or swim. My logical mind immediately chimed in with the awareness of another option. . . to float. It’s my favorite!
At Imbolc this year, I planted my seeds of intention. One seed which has already taken root is the intention of togetherness. Physical togetherness has been a rare joy since the start of the pandemic in early 2020. Though I have maintained connectedness with phone calls, zoom meetings, and letter writing during this time, seeing loved ones in person has been at a minimum. Since planting that seed, however, I have been blessed to have face-to-face time with many of my loved ones. It feels like such a blessing! To be clear, I never took these opportunities for granted. My soul sings with gratitude for each greeting.
Many of these gatherings have revealed a similar sentiment. We are all feeling overwhelmed by world news and local awareness of discouraging trends. It seems that the schoolyard bully archetype is looming large over the entire world these days. They are rising up to conquer a peaceful nation, to squash the hard-won rights and freedom to be authentic and safe for those who have had to spend their lives pretending, and to ensure that the promise of autonomy, equity, and equality for all beings gets ripped out of their walled gardens of self-servitude.
Feeling and witnessing this oppressive energy daily is soul-crushing. It is difficult to find the light in such darkness, let alone knowing how to BEE the light. (See what I did there?) For me, the best way to cope with looking forward is to reach into the past.
In the early 90s, a friend shared her understanding of our astrological move from the Age of Pisces into the Age of Aquarius. I know, we’ve been singing about it since the 60s, but if Mercury Retrograde lasts three weeks and has a two week shadow period. . . imagine how long the shadow period is for an approximate 2,000 year cycle. Feels like forever! The wisdom shared was that we are moving out of the patriarchal, war-mongering, money-obsessed era into one that feels more nurturing and inclusive. In this time, those who feel their perceived power slipping away are doing everything they can to prevent the arrival of such peace and balance. They are like rats in a toilet bowl, trying to lift the closing lid. They are terrified and THEIR fear is what we are feeling.
There were two big moments in my life that I identify as important lessons for my soul’s journey. I’ve written about them before. The first was in 2001 when a new boss arrived to end my 10-year career in a company where I’d been valued, appreciated, and fiercely loyal. The day I chose to leave was after a period of feeling unsafe, paranoid, and downright miserable. My Tribe and I had just celebrated Ganesha’s birthday and asked him to remove our obstacles. I never would have dreamed that my job was what held me back. But it was all of that discomfort that pushed me forward and into that next place, that better space for the growth of my soul, my income, and my future.
The next big moment was spectacularly similar to the first. In 2017, with the arrival of a new boss, darkness returned. I felt every portent of dread that I had felt before. It was a gift from an intuitive guide that informed me that as an empath, one can read the way our bodies feel to interpret messages from the Universe. I was feeling anxious, uncomfortable, paranoid, and miserable. There were moments when I feared I might suffer a stroke as I felt my blood pressure rise with shock and disbelief in what was happening.
When those words of wisdom were shared with me, it was a revelation! My whole body shifted out of fear and into peace. I understood in that moment that the Universe was telling me it was time to go. Something better is on the way. . .just like before. I instantly let go of the fear that was harming my mind, body and soul, and when that departure opportunity arrived, I joyfully danced out of the building.
Of course, something better did arrive with the unexpected discovery of the ability to retire from the corporate world. I never would have dreamed of it or sought it, because I was stuck in that old belief of what living (and surviving) looks like. Both of those life lessons taught me that when I feel uncomfortable, change is coming–and it will be for the better.
In these places of panic, when it feels like our world is falling apart, we often move into that sink or swim mentality. Either we violently scrape at the edges of a slippery slope with the hope of climbing out so that we can remain in that place where we’ve always been or we can let go and sink to the bottom because life is not worth living if it can’t be the same as it was. I say, screw that!
I don’t know about you, but I am quite buoyant and I intend to float through this current chaos. Surrounded by atrocities throughout the world, and right here at home with hateful and harmful legislation and rampant gun violence, I feel extremely uncomfortable. It feels impossible to find comfort and peace within when there are so many sacred beings who suffer at the arrogant and hateful hands of others.
If we are to understand that everything is made of energy (including us), then it feels far more helpful to reach out with love instead of fear. The Buddhist Art of Tonglen would have us breathe in their suffering and breathe out deep peace. Let me take in your fear and give you my comfort.
I am choosing to believe that what we are experiencing right now is the discomfort that informs us that change is coming. . . and it is going to be good. We are about to be liberated from working for an ungrateful boss so that we can learn to better serve ourselves and those we love.
The aftermath of the rise and fall of historical monsters was a renaissance of accountability and peace for the generations that followed the tyrannical downfall. The hard part is reconciling the devastating loss and destruction that came first. It is especially difficult when we are watching it unfold on every screen within our view.
So we focus on what we can do to nurture the source of light. We exercise our freedom to vote. We honor courage and heroism. We lift up the sweet songs of children finding safe harbor. And we float down this river of light with the vision of the stories of peaceful endings, joyful liberation, grateful celebration, and mindful rebuilding. We see this for countries at war and in our own country at war with itself.
We ignite that radiant green heart light from within and allow it to expand beyond the reach of our physical bodies, to encompass our neighborhoods, our communities, our cities and states, our countries and continents, our planet, our galaxy, and our universe. Everything is illuminated by the light of our love. See the face of the one who has made you feel most treasured, safe, valued and loved in this lifetime reflected in the faces of every being you meet. Know that you are safe and loved in this moment and that all is well and all shall be well.
Wherever you are in the world, and however you are feeling in this moment. . .if you are struggling to swim and feeling like you are about to sink, I hope you will choose to lean back and float, instead. May you feel yourself filled with and surrounded by the healing light of love. Everything will be okay. I promise.
Thank you for walking this path with me. I love knowing you are here.
Yesterday was my sixth workshop in a series of eight that are inspired by the changing seasons of the earth and the cyclical nature of our lives.
I’m making them up as I go, and once I finish one workshop, I start ruminating on the next, hold myself open to receive inspiration, and then wait for things to fall into place.
The title of the workshop was obviously shaped by the activity that moves the season, the changing colors and falling leaves. Twice in my life I received this very message channeled through two different sacred vessels. The first time was in 1999, during a drawing down the moon ritual with my Tribe. The message I received was to “open up and let a piece of you fall away.” The second time was in 2005, when I sat next to a medium at a Broadway show in NYC. The message that finally hit home was, “All you have to do is fall in love with yourself and it will all fall away.” That set me on a path to learn to love someone I had loathed. I had to cut the cords attached to a false belief planted long ago.
One of the themes that recurs in these workshops is that we move through a constant dance of gathering in and letting go. Since one of my Sacred Gardeners had mentioned a resistance to the idea of having love in her life again, after losing her beloved to cancer two years ago… inspiration was found. We knew that her wife would want her to find love again, but that the way she felt was likely connected (corded) to her own vow of loyalty and dedication. So, our task for the Autumn Equinox was clear… to cut some cords and let them all fall away.
The first step, is to identify the cords we carry and to whom or to what they are attached. The following is the meditation I wrote to lead us toward discovery.
MABON CORD MEDITATION
In the tarot, the Death card symbolizes change or transformation. It reminds us that everything changes… one season passes into another, the mother becomes the crone… without the dying leaves, we would fail to witness the rich beauty of autumn, which briefly awes our senses with a multitude of colors and textures before each leaf falls to the ground, transforming into rich fertile ground that will feed the roots of the tree from which they’ve fallen.
Throughout our lives, we come to our own autumn season – when it is time to reflect on the beauty and the darkness of what has gone before… to honor those moments and lessons, to give thanks – even for the darkness (for it has shown us the light), to let them gently fall away, and to prepare for what is yet to come. Remember that once the leaves fall from the tree of life, there is a period of rest, followed by the surprising POP of new growth, so vibrant and stunning, stark contrast from the nakedness of dormancy, that we cannot help but celebrate the utter joy of new life being presented.
Before we are able to witness the freshness of spring, like the trees release the parts of themselves which no longer serve them in original form, we must let go of what we have carried far too long. We must take the time to review each wound, each situation, each trauma within our personal history. Then, we can choose to drop the hurt, the heartbreak, the diagnosis, the disappointment, the false identities, and let them all fall away.
So, lets go deep for a moment and see what we can find. Find your comfort and close your eyes. Breathe in the light of love, and exhale apprehension. Inhale the warmth of love, and release the tension your body is holding. Fill your belly with the divine breath of life, and push out any worries that keep you from being fully present.
Now, picture yourself in the center of a lush forest at the peak of Autumn’s full color. The trees that surround you are diverse and precious, just like each of us. They send their roots deep into Mother Earth, and we follow their lead. The roots of our feet reach into the earth below and glide downward through rich soil, through quenching aquifer, beyond the protective crust and into the molten core. We feel a surge of strength and warmth rise up from this sacred place, as it fills every cell of our bodies with a golden glow of healing light.
From above, the sparkly white light of all that is falls gently upon your crown, and you open to receive the light of wisdom which easily flows into you, spiraling and mingling with the golden glow from below. Your entire being is alight with insight and inspiration. And as the light expands outward from your body, you become aware of ethereal cords that are coming from the trees that surround you, and are attached to your being. How many can you see? Are there many or few? Are they radiant or dull? Are they different colors? To what parts of you are they attached? Are they pulling at your heart, like past betrayals by others, or worse… unfortunate moments when you betrayed yourself? Are they pulling at your sacrum, like false or limiting beliefs about who you really are that were planted by the accusations and expectations of others? Take some time to recognize, acknowledge, and name the people, the experiences, the moments that allowed you to give away your own power, to accept something less than what you deserved, to be harmed by another – physically or emotionally. See the cords that have left you fearful or insecure, feeling unsafe or not good enough. Are they attached to a parent, a teacher, a childhood bully? As you follow the cord from where it is attached to your body, follow the sight of it as it moves through space and into one of the trees that surrounds you. Now, allow that tree to take the shape of the one who is corded to you.
Know that you are completely safe in this sacred space, and that you are well-grounded within the earth and protected by the light of truth. As you look into the eyes of those to whom you are corded, consider what you have learned from this connection. Take a moment to speak aloud what comes to mind. How have you limited yourself through this bond? How have you grown? {long pause}
For each cord you find coming from your body, follow it to a different tree, a different wound, a different situation, a different experience, a different person… and address each one with clarity and confidence. Realize that you have grown stronger with each insight. [long pause]
Now that you have identified what has bound you and held you back from expansion and forward momentum… feel your spirit lifting with a sense of lightness. Turn to each tree standing around you, bearing a cord that moves through you, and thank it for the lessons learned, for the protection each wound may have built, for the kindness you learned to offer others because you didn’t want them to hurt as you did, for the caution you learned which might have prevented future harm. Let each know that you are grateful for these moments which once bound you or propelled you, and through that cord that comes from your being, send the healing light of love and wish them well. And as that light reaches each tree in your circle of cords, which looks something like a web, witness each tree losing its leaves, as they change from shades of green, to red, to yellow, to brown, and allow peace to come as each leaf floats gently to the ground. Know that what goes to ground becomes fertile earth from which you will grow more fully into the divine being you were always meant to be.
So here’s to the coming of autumn… to the beauty, to the sorrow, to the gratitude, to the slumber, to the waking, and to the rebirth. Gather it into a great big cushy pile and fall back into it. Bury yourself in the memories… and finally… emerge with a smile, brush yourself off, and move forward… into the light.
When you are ready, open your eyes and return to this sacred circle.
As we emerged from the meditation, a few Sacred Gardeners shared that they were surprised to find so many cords and to discover multiple layers. They spoke of cords that were attached through generations of a family line. I led the meditation and my focus was on holding space for others, so what I shared was what I had first learned about cords from an intuitive life coach a few years ago. She could see that the circumstances of my first adult relationship kept me tightly bound to the man who had cheated on me while we lived together when I was twenty. There were at least ten cords that she could see, and though I had once been a skeptic of things I could not see with my eyes, I could easily identify the many attachments I had carried for nearly thirty years.
Attached to that betrayal was a belief that I could not trust men, that I could not trust myself to choose well, that I did not deserve the loyalty of a man, that I was not worthy of being loved, that I was undesirable, and a whole host of other bullshit that just got heavier and heavier each decade. As soon as I was alerted to the presence of these cords, I set to the work of severance. So, I wrote a ritual to help my Sacred Gardeners to do the same for themselves.
SEVERING THE TIES THAT BIND US TO THE PAST
Here we stand in sacred circle, in which we dwell in perfect trust. Healing light surrounds us and sustains us. Here we are held with love. We stand firmly planted with roots sown deep. We are connected to the core of Mother Earth and we are protected by source energy which surrounds us and flows through us.
We call upon creation, the energy of all that is, great spirit, god, goddess, universal light energy, elementals, spirit guides, ancestors, animal totems, angels, the energetic source that is all we are, all we see, all we feel, and all we imagine and cannot fathom.
We each stand confident in our intention of cutting the invisible cords that keep us tied to the past, to unhealthy relationships, to false beliefs, to fear based thought, to physical, emotional, and spiritual traumas that hold us in a state of wounded protection – and we ask for your presence, your guidance, and your support in safe and complete severance.
All that you are, all that we are, and all that is beyond our imagining – we bid thee hail and welcome.
Each Gardener stands in center of circle addressed by the sword of surrender:
Are you ready, willing, and able to sever, release, and retract any and all cords attached to people, places, events, emotions, feelings, fears, traumas, and unknown and unseen forces that bind you and keep you from living fully present and in joy? “I AM!”
Do you who are holding space in this sacred circle offer your loving support and positive energy toward the safe, healing endeavor of our dedicant, for her highest good and for the good of all? “WE DO!”
Will you allow and receive the loving assistance and positive energy of those surrounding you who are holding space for you in loving light, who offer their energy for the highest good of you and for all? “I DO!”
Do you wish to name aloud or silently those people, places, events, emotions, feelings, fears, traumas? “SAY THEM ALOUD OR STATE THAT YOU ARE DOING SO IN SILENCE”
As I wield the sword of surrender to symbolize the cutting of these cords – be they many or few – see in your mind’s eye the cords being swiftly cut with grace and ease, and then witness each cord being retracted into your being and simultaneously into the being or representation of what formerly bound you. As each cord recedes and retracts, send it with love and with gratitude, for each of those cords represented a lesson and a growth opportunity. Let that being or representative know that you are finished with this lesson, that you are no longer holding on, and that you wish them peace.
Space Holders Chant: And it all just falls away. And it all just falls away.
When she feels it is finished, dedicant says: “Thank you. It is done!”
Once each dedicant has released and severed their cords, we all circle up for a healing chant. As we sing, we each visualize a golden healing light sparkling over the surface of our bodies, as the opening within our energetic beings which carried the cords are healed and sealed. As we chant, we can see our own healing, and we pass our energy clockwise around the circle to assist with the healing of others – as we receive the same from them.
I am a circle. I am healing you. You are a circle. You are healing me. Unite us, be one. Unite us, be as one.
We offer our gratitude to creation, the energy of all that is, great spirit, god, goddess, universal light energy, elementals, spirit guides, ancestors, animal totems, angels, the energetic source that is all we are, all we see, all we feel, and all we imagine and cannot fathom.
We walk in your light and feel your presence even through darkness. For the purposes of this healing circle, we bid thee hail and farewell.
Thank you, thank you, thank you. It is done, it is done, it is done.
There is nothing like standing in a circle of women while being held in loving intention. As I symbolically swung the sword to sever the cords for each of my Sacred Gardeners, I was focused on the freedom and liberation of each. I noticed with the circle’s progression that I could sense a tingling energy against my upper arms right before she announced that the work was done.
When the circle was complete, some announced an immediate lightness of being, feeling a sense of sitting taller and feeling lighter. It was glorious to witness such an immediate affect.
Once we had cleared the field and created an open space for more goodness to enter our lives, we set to the work of attracting what comes next.
What comes next for me is a good night’s (or morning’s ) sleep… so that part of the tale shall have to wait for another day. Thank you for walking this path with me. I am so happy to have you near. HAPPY EQUINOX!
Where I live, the month of June carries a great deal of weight. The most obvious, here in the State of Florida, is the arrival of oppressive heat and torrential rain. Many of us are grateful for those daily downpours, as they often manage to lower the temperature from around 99 degrees to somewhere around 88 degrees, if we’re lucky.
June is also Gay Pride month (not just in Florida), and celebrations occur at various venues throughout the month. You’ve probably heard of Gay Days at Disney, which is loads of fun in a sea of red and rainbow. Today, my former workplace raised the rainbow flag in front of the corporate office, to proudly fly a commitment to diversity, honoring the dignity of ALL. The induction of the Pride Alliance into the employee networks several years ago was monumental, even if it felt ridiculously overdue. It’s never too late to get it right.
But the other thing about June… that which makes it not just hot, but also heavy, is a certain anniversary. A horrific, terrible, nightmare in memorial. In the early morning hours of June 12, 2016 a domestic terrorist entered the Pulse Nightclub, right at the heart of one of our Central Florida neighborhoods, and murdered 49 sacred members of our beloved community.
Oh, how we long for the days that our theme parks made us special. No city on the planet wants to be a member of the mass shooting club!
Pulse was a gay nightclub, where friends could gather for dancing, for laughter, for music therapy, and stress relief. It was a place where those who walked through the entrance doors could feel safe to be their authentic selves. It was, for many, a homecoming to acceptance.
They tried to tell us that the shooter was angry about something happening across the globe, but the truth was far more disturbing. He was angry with his culture, his religion, and our society, who would have him carry his unspoken truth inside, never to be fulfilled. He wasn’t allowed to be who he wanted to be, and so he took it out on those who could.
A world of harm comes from pretending to be something you are not, while swallowing shame placed upon you by others. It is the most bitter poison one can ingest. It can only lead to turmoil and destruction, whether it be to one’s self, or to a room filled with sacred souls.
I don’t really understand the societal repression, oppression, and aggression that seems to come from patriarchal religions toward those who are LGBTQ. Especially, since the big three of the patriarchy claim that God is love, that God created everything and makes no mistakes, God is the only judge, etc. And don’t forget the ‘golden rule’ – do unto others as you would have done unto you. Seems like a really big disconnect, if you ask me, when they would have the rights of others limited or removed altogether.
Gratefully, I’ve not seen or heard this ridiculous cry from anyone in my personal circle, but THIS is why there is no ‘straight pride month’, people! Society does not force straight people to bottle up their truth inside walls of protection in lieu of living an authentic life. They get to live each day, out in the open, holding hands with the one they love. They don’t have to worry about being beaten for wearing the clothing that makes them feel confident and comfortable. Their family members are less likely to disown them for being who they really are. Some might say… they are lucky.
I grew up in the Unitarian Church, and my parents’ best friends are a lesbian couple who have been together for decades. So, when I fell in love with a woman in my mid-twenties, I didn’t hesitate to share the news with my parents. My relationship was embraced by my family and by my friends, and I wasn’t in a situation where I had to dance around pronouns when I spoke of my partner. But I do recall feeling fearful of public displays of affection, like holding hands while walking down the street. I had been bullied and taunted for not being thin, and so I understood the mean spirit of broken people. Standing up to adversity requires courage. In public, I felt the need to be cautious in order to stay safe.
We were together for eight years, and we remain friends, to this day. My therapist told me, back in the day, that I was the only client who had ever expressed shame and regret for discovering that I was NOT gay. I mean, really… if I could flip a switch, I would, because the men in my romantic life have been a real disappointment. But that’s another story.
I have friends who have loved one another for decades, whose lives are completely entwined, and yet they were only recently able to legally marry. And I have a friend who is transgender, who after years of this awareness and self-discovery, is beginning to step out into the world donned in garments that make her feel more at home in her skin.
Can you imagine what that is like? To have gone to work every day dressed like someone else? To look in the mirror and see an impostor? To reply to co-workers, when they ask about your weekend plans, while creating language to dance around the truth of the person that you will share it with, and whom you cherish the most in all the world? You know what? You don’t have to be an empath to know that it feels fake, false, empty, lonely, and sad. NO ONE SHOULD HAVE TO FEEL THAT WAY!
Let me tell you something. The beautiful LGBTQ souls everywhere are great warriors, one and all. Whether they have found the strength and courage to be authentic and live an out and about reality within our judgmental and often hateful society, or if they are carrying their truth on the inside – longing for such freedom, they have my respect, my admiration, and my undying support. I am just aching to be asked to be a stand-in Mom at a wedding, for someone whose own parents were too broken and close-minded to love their own children for being honest and seeking happiness. I have more than enough love to go around.
This weekend, I watched the sequel series on Netflix for Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin. It is set in San Francisco and the nucleus of the story is a transgender woman named Anna, and the beloved community she has created and nurtured over many years. This updated series takes us back to Anna’s courageous and heartbreaking ‘new beginning’, transitioning at a time that was even less inclusive than now. It also shows us details of the relationships of the other residents of Barbary Lane (the home Anna opened to others as a safe space to thrive), who are gay, straight, bisexual, and transgender.
As a friend and ally of the LGBTQ community, I watched every episode with a sense of deep caring for these characters. I wanted to protect them from the ignorance of others, and I wanted them to know that I have felt rejected and abandoned by love, too. I have stood in the mirror willing my body to look different than it does. I have sometimes had the courage to put myself out there again, in order to find the love that I deserve, and I have also locked my heart inside a closet in order to keep it safe.
One thing that occurred to me as I watched each episode, exploring self discovery and actualization, affection, sexuality, and sensuality in many forms, I could remember how strange it felt, long ago, to see two men kissing on screen for the first time. I’ll admit, that as a young person, it made me feel uncomfortable, but only because it was not something I had seen before. I love that movies and television are finally beginning to reflect the real world. Perhaps the more we see loving relationships between caring people of all genders and identities, the rest of the world will get over its fear and discomfort with what once felt unfamiliar, and get back to focusing on their own happiness, and allow others to do the same. You know… as they would have done unto themselves.
It’s hard to imagine that reality, right now, with so much bitterness and violence being nurtured and celebrated by the so called ‘President’… but I do believe we will get there. I have no choice but to believe in the probability of peace and the power of love to overcome this darkness.
I doubt that any of us imagined we would celebrate marriage equality in our lifetimes, and yet many of us have either been attendants or guests at gay weddings over the last few years. Or as I like to call them… weddings. Someday the silliness of the distinction will be obsolete.
In the meantime, we celebrate how far we’ve come. We wave our multi-colored flags, not as a sign of defeat, but as a symbol of freedom. There is a quality of fierce assertion required to stand up and declare one’s authentic spirit to the world, and so I think of this remarkable community as a Pride of Lions. A fellowship that learned it must protect their own.
But to be who you are truly meant to be, when the world would have you be just like everyone else – fitting inside the limitations of smaller minds, one must stand with the sureness of a warrior.
So, at the occasion of a month dedicated to the celebration of individuality and fabulousness, and at an anniversary of a horrific moment that my beloved community will never forget, I salute this Pride of Warriors! I pay tribute to their courage to be who they want to be. I honor their divine perfection, because though I am not religious, I know that who they are is not a mistake. And I bow my head in sorrow for our fallen warriors, and our beloved survivors whose dreams are surely haunted.
As for those who are struggling with the concept of acceptance, respect, and loving kindness for ALL beings (yourself included), consume these wise words from one of our favorite New Yorkers (Ms. Cyndi Lauper): YOU’LL CHANGE THE WORLD WHEN YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND! Thank you for walking this path with me.
Bee the Light 