Leaning In For Love

Mercury Retrograde, which began on August 4 and concludes on August 27, invites us into reflection. Yes, we can be led into misunderstanding and miscommunication during these three weeks with a 14-day shadow on each end, but it also urges us to review, reflect, revisit, and realign relationships. What I love the most is that we also have the opportunity to rewrite how a story ends.

Reflecting on this year so far, I realize how wonderfully love has resonated in my life. The greatest gift has been having the opportunity to grow more deeply into a relationship with my honorary godson. Though he is only in his mid-20s, he is highly intelligent, not just cognitively but also emotionally. Therefore, holding space for him as he goes through a difficult life transition has afforded me a deeper insight into the psyche and spirit of the embodiment of healthy or heroic masculinity (the opposite of the toxic kind). Imagine a man who chooses daily to be better, not bitter.

To identify with an apparently powerful segment of the American population this election cycle, I am a joyfully childless and happily single cat lady. The men in my life are great friends who also fit the healthy male description, however, the opportunity to connect over life events, which lead to deeply meaningful and bravely vulnerable conversations are rare. Much of the daily access I have to men, perhaps by design, comes through the news and it sadly reinforces the desire to keep my world safe and small. I’ve had far too many traumatic experiences with toxic masculinity to long for more of that in my life.

Something else I’ve witnessed this year that has been a revelation is platonic love. I am blessed to have so much of it in my life that it isn’t a foreign concept at all, but what was a real delight was to see it in the places that entertain me. During the months of May and June, that place was with Shondaland and Bridgerton. It wasn’t just the two-part reveal of season three of Bridgerton that kept me riveted, but the numerous interviews from the press tour. I’m pretty sure I watched them all while waiting for the second half of the season to be released. I loved the way that love was present everywhere, be it on set or in interviews with everyone in the cast. Many were interviewed while holding hands and speaking highly of one another with great adoration and gratitude.

The show leads for the season who depict the friends-to-lovers relationship shared in one of eight books written twenty years ago, show up throughout the junket with an extraordinary display of mutual respect, caring, and playfulness. I possibly enjoyed the exultation that the actors delivered on their world tour more than the eight episodes produced for Netflix. The energy they alchemize in each others’ company is joyfully infectious. I think a part of my obsession was a hesitation to leave that loving world behind, returning to a reality of divisive words and actions found daily in the news. We deserve better.

I recently found myself reviewing past trauma through what would have been a new trauma had it not been so familiar and easier to overcome out of habit. Even though I could intuit an expected outcome, I found myself believing in something different. Even though I was wrong, I don’t regret my ability to expect goodness.

A former service provider who had shown up in my life with kindness and generosity of spirit since before my Dad died, expressed an interest in getting to know me better. He was much younger, and since I have close friends of all ages, I felt inclined to accept the invitation, but I was also feeling triggered by the advance. In the past, when someone has expressed interest or attraction, it has ended in being psychically molested and then abandoned like a virtual rape victim. So, I was hesitant and consulted my intuitive soul daughter. We both concluded that the energy we felt was not dark and that he was possibly attracted to my light for reasons he didn’t quite understand. I told her that it made me feel uncomfortable and that I liked the simplicity in my life. I didn’t want to invite an experience that would lead to longing, expecting the eventual abandonment or disappointment that would follow should it turn out the same. She reminded me that if we are comfortable, we are not growing. So, I chose growth.

At first, it seemed there was genuine interest in friendship and I was excited about the possibility of nurturing another healing relationship with the masculine divine beyond my cherished godson. Sadly, the limit of his vulnerability was the fear of scaring me off for telling me about what he fantasized about ‘doing to me’, and then he was gone. Ghosted. No longer available to work that behavior into something that might be healing for both of us. When I shared that news with my soul daughter, she said, “Wow! That was a quick lesson! Now you get to process the totality of it.”

At first, I was mad at myself for believing it could be different, based on the way that each time we met I could sense that we both ‘lit up’ as if there was a past life or karmic connection. It was a sweetness that I certainly have never experienced with other home technicians. For that reason, I did not ghost him back. I maintained my confusion about the whole thing and decided to include him in my processing, regardless of whether he would see it or ever reply.

On my father’s 87th birthday, I sent him the blessing of a brief reading that my soul daughter discovered when entering his energy to see if it was safe after his first note of interest. And I concluded it with a blessing for his daughter, of which he had spoken from a past relationship that left him allegedly single for several years, and for him – because I prefer to lead with love.

“So this is my father’s birthday blessing to your daughter. May she never be mishandled by the harmful (intentional or otherwise) manipulation and abandonment of lesser men. May she be a magnet to all goodness and healthy behaviors from all beings who approach her. May she always be held with deep respect and great reverence. May she be eternally protected from all men who lack the character to deserve her beautiful heart. May she know that she is loved without condition. May you find the healing in your own being that brings a sense of wholeness to your soul. We all deserve that. Take care and thanks for the lesson. May it be my last.”

When I reflected on what I’ve learned about closure at the end of life, and how what we must release when we leave our bodies behind are the negative emotions of human construct, including guilt, shame, and attachment, I understood that I wanted to offer him one more gift. Forgiveness. “May you know that you are forgiven for all harm you may have said or done in this lifetime and beyond.”

After a week of silence while still carrying the burden of disappointment, I worried for his safety and wellness considering the nature of his job. What if this wasn’t a choice and something was wrong. Even though I’ve never had children, I totally know how to worry needlessly about irrational things. I discovered the deception through social media. Despite the beauty I had felt in his energy, there was a fiance and young children whom he had never mentioned. I wasn’t seeking a romantic relationship because he was born the year of my spiritual awakening – meaning I could have birthed him, but this finding turned his invasive and manipulative words to me into a horrifying assault on his family, as well. I guess I wasn’t finished with my monologue. I offer this next part as a suggestion to any man who might want to change the course of his karma.

I realize now that I never got to tell you what I wanted. I don’t think you ever asked. Women are trained from birth to serve their fathers, brothers, and husbands (internalized patriarchy), and so we are often remiss in asking for what we need, because it is unlikely we’ve ever allowed ourselves to have needs. Women of a certain age have cultivated the capacity to both give and receive great pleasure, and frankly, we can serve ourselves with no need of a man. But what I would like from you, is an acknowledgment of your disrespect and an apology for your poor behavior. Your fiance deserves your loyalty and after offering you nothing more than friendship, mentorship, and loving kindness, I deserve your respect and to have my efforts met in some small way. I know I may not get what I want, but I might just get what I need… having spoken my complete truth after deep reflection.

Now that the veil of illusion is lifted on your personal life, I can tell myself a story of someone who works really hard to support himself and his family and how overwhelming and unsatisfying just living life can feel at times. Maybe he was looking for an escape from reality and to step into a fantasy for a moment, without accountability or recourse. Maybe he really did just want someone to talk to who could hold space for the heaviness of the responsibility that he carries, so that he might feel heard and held while life spirals in and out as it does, often feeling out of his control. But somehow, society taught him that the way to connect with a woman is through sex. He never learned about connecting deeply through honesty and vulnerability – by sharing the truth of every ache and wound, as well as the revelation of great joy. He had not seen the missed opportunity before him. He didn’t realize that innocent conversations of the heart could enable finding the truth of his own heart, which he could take safely back into his own committed relationship, without guilt or shame. I would have loved that ending. I would have cherished our friendship the way I cherish the trust my godson and I share.

Here’s how someone might begin reparation or repentance. “Dear M, thank you for the warm hand of friendship that you offered me last week. I was searching for some light, and I found it in you. I deeply regret that past traumas kept me from being able to receive your offer in a way that was safe and healing for both of us. Your trust and vulnerability were mine to earn, and I failed us both. I didn’t know what I was looking for and misunderstood the opportunity the universe had offered me. Thank you for your forgiveness already given, I offer you my sincere gratitude for helping me process the confusion we have both been experiencing in the past week.”

Okay. That’s it. I think I’ve processed all of the fog and confusion you left me with. I hope you will consider my respectful request. You have the opportunity to be a healer, dear. I know you wouldn’t want to miss that!

There still has been no response. At times, I have considered being bitter, but thanks to my godson’s example I have chosen to be better. I feel that what I’ve managed to do here is to offer his daughter(s) a blessing from my father that was first and foremost a channeled blessing from my father to me. I have found no regret for leaning in for the possibility of more platonic love to enter my life, because it was not wrong to listen to the beauty of the sweet energy that existed between us. If I were to interpret the lesson as one that informs me I cannot trust myself and that I should remain closed to any future possibility of loving kindness when it knocks at my door, I would be limiting my life in a way that might truly feel like regret at the end. I deserve better.

I’m really sad for the loss of that sweetness because he truly felt like a blessing in my life from the first day I asked my angels to deliver an angel in the overwhelm of caring for my father at the end of his life. But I’m really glad to know that this kind of energy exists and that there is a possibility for more. Bring it on, Universe!

Thanks, Mercury Retrograde! Move along now. We’ll see you again at the end of November. And thank YOU, dear gentle reader, for walking this path with me. I love knowing you are here.

Bee Encouraged

Join my tribe for an experiment of light-filled intention.

The other day, I was overcome with a feeling of profound peace and happiness while walking down an aisle at the grocery store. I’ve had the experience before. It is so powerful that I know to take full notice when it arrives, this feeling of blissful reverie. I can reflect on it now and feel the muscles in my face begin to lift the corners of my smile. Next, my vision blurs as tears fill my eyes. Finally, there’s this feeling that builds in my chest between my heart chakra and solar plexus energy centers. I imagine that this area of the body houses that spark of divinity seeded in all living things which connects us with the Universal Light of Truth, of which we are all a part. When this feeling comes over me, I know that were it visible to the human eye, passersby would have to avert their eyes or drop their shades.

The thing about this extraordinary feeling is that it cannot be found in a body that is filled with fear and doubt. That’s because those emotions are not found in the Light of Truth. They are false fabrications of human construct, which of course are far beneath the vibration of that particle of divine beingness which we all carry cradled at our center. The difference between those energetic vibrations is like a kid kicking the back of your seat on an airplane vs. the healing energy of a baby sleeping or a cat purring on your chest. I’ll take the cat’s purr, please!

Maybe it’s like the feeling of falling in love. It feels like being fully present in the moment and knowing that all is right in your world. For someone like me, it would not be about falling in love with someone else. After many years of self-imposed emotional abuse and worthiness denial, it is about finally letting all falseness fall away as I fall in love with myself and the simple but perfect life I’ve created.

I can pull to mind a moment in my life where this feeling was amplified. It was January 2009. I had reached out to my Tribe, many of whom had gotten married and moved away since we started meeting weekly in my living room at the end of 1993. It was my 40th birthday. When I asked if they might come home for a reunion, they were all there. On that day, I got to stand at the center of the circle formed by their beautiful beings. Sobbing with overwhelm, I placed into each of their palms a small river rock smoothed by water and informed them of how they had each been instrumental in shaping and forming me into this liquifying mess of love-drenched gratitude. In my mind’s eye, I can hold that scene in the light, where every particle of divine light shines brightly from each of us, and washes every surface surrounding us in the radiance of pure love.

If I had just one wish that could be granted, it would be for every being in the world to find themselves surrounded by this kind of love. In fact, I am inviting you to close your eyes right now, to imagine yourself where I have described, and to know that you ARE at the glowing center of this much love.
Can you feel it?

Now that you know where to find your own divine center, I offer you… the experiment. Cash Peters is someone I started following on YouTube a few years back. He was among a short list of intuitive people whose channeled insights brought me comfort during difficult days. What I appreciate about Cash is that we share a trait of skeptical belief. The reason I consider myself a mystic is that I have had enough experience in life to understand that everything is made of energy and that if I’m willing to look for it, that energy may show up for me in ways that I can understand. When this intuitive explorer suggested an energetic experiment for his community to try, my Tribe and I decided we would circle up with intention.

I’m embedding the video presentation with instructions from Cash Peters’ The Enlightened Beings Club on YouTube, and I will also write beneath that the future as it is in this moment. The magnetic law of attraction does not work through longing, praying, or begging for something you hope may come, but from knowing that it is already here in this perfectly, glorious moment.

On YouTube – Cash Peters, The English Channel, and The Enlightened Beings Club

Now that you’ve heard Cash’s technique in detail, I’ll add a grounding and centering visualization that I use each morning and before each circle that holds space and intention. My Tribe (from 1993 and 2019) and I are already here, so feel these words and know that you are surrounded by so much love.

We inhale to expand our green heart light and exhale to expand that light and send it through our bodies and into the center of the Earth. We inhale to pull the golden lava-light energy from the core of Mother Earth into our being and exhale to expand that light while pushing out what does not belong to us. We inhale to pull from above the sparkly white light of creation, calling back our soul fragments while connecting us to our higher selves. We exhale to expand that light with the golden light from below because we are the meeting place of heaven and earth. We inhale and exhale again to expand that light in a clockwise motion beyond our reach in every direction. Encapsulated by this protective energy, our final breath brings us to where we are grounded and centered in sacred, safe, brave space.

We are grateful for the air that is our breath. We are grateful for the fire that is our spirit. We are grateful for the water that is our blood. We are grateful for the earth that is our bone. We are grateful for the light of love that flows through us and surrounds us. We are grateful for the safety, wellness, and protection of ourselves and those we love. We are grateful for our guides, our angels, and our loved ones beyond the veil who reveal themselves to us in ways that we can understand. We love knowing they are here.

Today is another gorgeous day in April 2025 and our beings are aglow! The sense of effervescent joy and deep peace is palpable as we sit in a celebratory circle in the cool grass. It is such a glorious feeling that bubbles up in giddiness, bringing tears to our eyes as every face we see is marked with a lifting smile. As others walk by, they are invited to sit with us in belonging. Some feel happy to join us while others smile and wave as we recognize each other for the divine perfection we all are. Harmony and balance permeate the mood and we raise a glass to new beginnings and the release of that which no longer serves us.

Meet us here daily while holding this intention within the light of your noble truth. Know that this energy is elevating your own vibration, as well as the energy that surrounds our country, our democracy, and the world. Together, we can change the world. In truth, we already have!

I assure you, this practice will not be a waste of time. Focusing your intention of deep peace daily can only positively affect your state of being. If you’ve got time to sit with fear about the future, you’ve got time to release that fear and hold space for the future you wish to see and share with those you love.

Thank you for walking this path with us. We love knowing you are here!

Half Full of Hope

Yesterday, a needle pierced my throat four times. I had a biopsy on my thyroid to get a better look at the discovery of a nodule that showed up in an unrelated MRI of my cervical spine. The second jab was the most uncomfortable, but it was hard to describe. We decided it may have involved hitting a nerve, and my reply was, “Well, I’m glad I have nerves.” My biopsy tech decided that I was a ‘glass half full’ patient.

He said that it likely was an unnecessary procedure since benign nodules are pretty common. I told him that I have a friend who caught covid before the vaccines were available and that a scan of her congested lungs revealed that she had an aggressive form of ductal breast cancer. I told him that I was not mad about my doctor being overly cautious. When we finished up he said that he was sure it was nothing to worry about and that he was sorry for whatever I would have to pay for the procedure. I touched his arm and said, “Oh, don’t worry. I have Obamacare!”

This was after he expressed dismay over the current climate in our country and his desire to immigrate elsewhere. I reminded him that most places in the world are going through something similarly distressing and that the best thing for us to do is to stay and work toward creating something better.

As I drove home, I was learning about the latest travesty committed by the US Supreme Court, while also reflecting on a recent conversation with my honorary godson. He and I are from different backgrounds with obvious differences in life experience and perspectives. While we frequently have deep conversations on belief, we have not previously dared to delve into politics. We each voice-recorded messages with our thoughts, and as expected, I got a little extra expressive on the ways that people can vote (or choose not to vote) which is ultimately harmful to society, and especially to women.

That poor kid, half my age, re-recorded his reply to me multiple times before sharing and declared it the last time he ever wanted to do that because it felt ‘icky’. His reply wasn’t divisive in any way. He just really wanted to know why he should vote when he felt there really wasn’t a choice he felt could represent him. Like many (his age or not), the choice of two elderly men has no appeal to him, and feeling limited to one party or another fails to reach what he longs to see in the form of our country’s direction. [This is actually a pathetic summary of a brilliant oratory, as his brain is far more capable than mine of thoughtful expression. I’m still overcoming brain fog that has blocked my writing for some time.]

What I could offer him, a young adult soon to vote in his second presidential election, is that if you want to see the country move in the direction of your dreams, the only choice at this moment is to vote for Democrats across the board. They may not be what you want for leadership, but if you want change that will serve you down the road, they will be the party to enable it. Abolishing the Electoral College will not occur under the party that most benefits from it through gerrymandering. Free and fair elections will not be possible with the current state of the Republican party, now so far from any form of ethical or civilized behavior, it boggles belief. The courts are corrupt, a direct result of proud efforts by the GOP, and that reform will not come with their majority in the halls of Congress. When a party shows you who they are, believe them. Then set a healthy boundary.

If you want to see a future with more than two parties that lead to a viable chance of representation that serves you best, your only hope is to vote Blue in every race and keep doing so until progress is allowed to transform the broken system we currently maintain. Ranked-choice voting to remove toxicity and improve choice, which is offered in some left-leaning states could grow, offering you a greater sense of inclusion in democracy. It won’t ever expand if you don’t vote Blue.

Speaking or writing on politics is not within my list of strengths, and yet it feels irresponsible for any of us to sit in silence while witnessing the rapid decline of social justice and democracy. It’s okay to be mad about the choices before you, but it is not okay to act in a way that furthers that cause.

As an Aquarius, it feels impossible to lose hope in a brighter future. I believe in the goodness of humanity and our ability to care deeply for one another. I believe that we are meant to be interdependent beings. We are not in this earthly realm to learn how to fend for ourselves, we are meant to learn and grow toward the truth of our souls. When we return to energetic form, we flow back into oneness. Our challenge in human form is to remember that we are all one.

Harming ourselves or harming another is an act of violence against us all. From this moment in history, voting for any Republican is an act of violence against humanity and the greater good. To be apathetic and not vote against your oppressors is an act of self-harm. Such negligence may mean that you never have the freedom to vote again.

When I come back to the image of my proverbial cup, despite the chaos of darkness that threatens to swallow us whole, I still find it to be half full. I know that even with what is happening in our country through the corruption of the highest court enabled by the GOP, with the loss of privacy, safety, and security in women’s healthcare, among a million other transgressions, there is hope. I believe that people who love themselves and others will rise into action between now and November to ensure we have the opportunity to continue the experiment of building a more perfect union. I believe in us! I believe in love! I believe this cup is filled with the light of love and that there is enough to nourish and illumine us all.

Thanks for walking this path with me, dear ones. Cheers!

Born Again Goddess

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.

Compassionate Curiosity

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.

https://www.brazos-uu.org/post/the-pink-triangle-story

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.

HAPPY PRIDE, YA’LL!

Crowning the Crone

In 2019, I led a series of workshops that were planted at Imbolc with ‘Seeds of Intention’. Every eight weeks a group of beautiful beings gathered for mindful connection, meditation, and personal growth as we marked the changing seasons. When the pandemic entered our lives, a number of my ‘sacred gardeners’ chose to continue meeting weekly, to stave off the sense of isolation that covid-19 threatened.

[Image created via collaboration with Dean and Delaney Delp with MidJourney]

Three years later, despite every member being vaccinated and boosted, for some reason we had not made efforts to return to meeting in person. Every Saturday we nurtured our commitment to gathering in sacred, safe, and brave ‘virtual’ space. Each gathering started and ended with an oracle card that might inspire conversation or speak to a mood that often resonated with many. In recent months, one of those cards offered a message that reminded me of how one of my sacred gardeners had inspired, supported, and nudged me into creating those workshops that gave birth to this group. It felt like a new nudge from the universe to return to a physical sacred space.

One intention I had been considering for some time was the idea of my own croning. A croning is a rite of passage in the life of a woman when she moves beyond her former roles as a maiden and mother. As I have gotten to know these women on such an intimate level over the past few years, I was aware that many of us were on similar journeys at varying stages of aging. So, the suggestion was made, it was well received, and then a date was set.

Once the focus of our first in-person gathering was decided, the synchronicities began to arrive, as they do, to affirm that we were on the right path. From oracle cards pulled in weekly gatherings to random social media posts, guidance, inspiration, and messages kept rising to help build the outline for our rite.

I knew that for a hands-on craft, we would create our own crowns. I had a very simple idea for a floral circlet, but I wondered if I could find other, less practiced ideas to share. I found a few generous designers on YouTube who demonstrated the task, shared with my group for feedback, and then called a couple of experts for a slumber party crown experiment.

If you are truly blessed in life, you will have at least two life-long, childhood friends who are always ready for adventure. They gladly embraced the task of a crafting rehearsal, to see if it felt possible to do this work as a group within a reasonable timeframe. As we measured, nipped, smoothed, and twisted aluminum wire, we discussed the concept of croning.

In the life of a woman, she moves through three stages that mirror the moon. She is the maiden throughout her youth, a glorious waxing stage of innocence and discovery. She is the mother when she has moved into her fullness, not only by giving birth (which many of us choose not to do), but by creating a path, a home, a career, a purpose. And she is the crone when she is ready to leave behind what wisdom has taught her no longer matters, as she moves into the waning phase.

Three of my gardeners argued that they were not sure they were worthy of croning. They felt unsure of their readiness to claim it when they felt there was so much more to learn, or there were still young-adult children in the house. But when I read to them the inspiration piece for the power portion of the ceremony, they each changed their minds.

I understand that some may argue with my logic, but I know this to be true. The time of croning can be when a woman’s blood has stopped flowing. Another time may be at her second Saturn Return, around age 56 (depending on her astrological natal chart). It can be when she retires from the working world, or simply when she is ready to evolve into a deeper life experience. I stopped bleeding at 48 (thank the gods!), retired from the corporate world to care for my parents, and walked my father through the end of his life (to walk with death is an undeniable crone journey).

Our youngest is 51 and our eldest is 86. We are all in varying stages of cronedom. We are either serving our parents through the end of life, or preparing for our own. We are learning that we no longer carry the burden of worrying about pleasing others with how we look or behave, and are focused on learning how to please ourselves and love who we’ve become, especially after a lifetime of trying to be something society expected of us. With the war of beating ourselves with the unrealistic expectations of others, we are done!

We spent our Saturday virtual gatherings in the weeks leading up to our big event discussing who we were as maidens and as mothers, and what from each stage of our development we would choose to leave behind.

Our lives and stories were different in many ways and similar in others. I found myself reflecting on my youth and could immediately see so much that felt unpleasant. I could see my innocence as naivete, my longing as weakness, and my moments of confidence as arrogance. On first reflection, I found mostly regret in my ignorance, while a few others saw their maiden experiences as nearly idyllic, some, quite the opposite with a lost youth having to parent a parent. It took me a while to dig through my own darkness to reveal the buried treasure of being young. That process informed me of what I was prepared to discard from my maiden phase, and what to hold onto.

Motherhood was oddly easier for me to review. I’ve never been pregnant and am very happily childless, but I did give birth to a tribe in my mid-twenties (and I guess I did it all over again in my late 40s). That has long felt like one of the most important things I’ve done. I nurtured and cared for three bosses over three decades who gave me a sense of identity and purpose, they were my sacred beings to nurture and support.

So much light came through a sense of belonging and opportunities to contribute to something larger than myself. I found my people and myself during those formative years. But I also struggled with self-love and acceptance. I fought a long battle of self-loathing for never being thin enough, attractive enough, organized enough, or loved enough. It took me so long to figure out that every little thing that could deliver true happiness was always mine to give myself. I knew that I was ready to claim my cronedom when I stopped objectifying myself and yearning for the validation of others to believe I was worthy of being loved.

[Image created via collaboration with Dean and Delaney Delp with MidJourney]

As we collaborated on crafting a communal croning ceremony, we also discussed music that spoke to us, and how we would honor the elements and archetypes of the divine that resonated with each of us, and of the wise women in our lives who had nurtured and inspired us.

Among the many synchronicities that crossed my screen was ‘The Thanksgiving Address, A gift from the Haudenosaunee to the World’, which I first discovered while reading Robin Wall Kimmerer’s remarkably beautiful book, Braiding Sweetgrass. We realized that it had everything one could seek in honoring the sacred within us and which surrounds us. It would work for casting the circle, calling the quarters, and invoking the light of truth. I would love to begin every gathering with these blessing words.

The morsel of goodness that was the foundation of our rite and the climax of our journey was a post that offered a declaration from Dr. Shefali’s book called Radical Awakening. It prompted me to purchase the book, and hear it in her own voice through Audible. It feels like an assertion of defiance to internalized patriarchy. I hope you’ll look her up for yourself. I adapted her words to meet our needs, designed to roll more easily off the tongue. I’m grateful to Poet’s Corner for posting them.

I don’t think I had imagined how it would feel to welcome 12 sacred souls, live and in-person, into the sanctuary of my home. It has been so long since more than two extra people have graced this space. Their arrival, by ones, twos, and threes felt warm and momentous. We were all helpers that day. Some helped set the perfect spaces for our togetherness, some helped prepare the food for our sustenance, some helped by driving our loved ones who are no longer driving, some helped with crafting supplies, some helped with financial donations, one drove four hours partially through rush-hour traffic to get here the day before, and absolutely everyone held space for the truth and beauty of each and every life journey that was shared, with reverence and grace. That feeling, I was reminded, was the warmth of love, the support of family, and after a very long absence, it felt like a homecoming.

In the beginning, we agreed that the beauty of becoming the crone meant that we would not be attached to outcome. If we had intentions for this gathering that were forgotten or failed to manifest due to timing, that would only mean that we would have exactly the experience we meant for us.

We passed the script of ‘Thankfulness’ until every paragraph had been spoken, until ‘Our Minds [Were] One’. We spoke of the women in our lives (or men) who offered us wisdom and nurturing, and we brought into the circle the archetypes of the goddesses who most resonated with our souls. Surrounded by images in artwork, mine were obvious. It was the young Persephone that I called into the birthing of my Tribe at Imbolc of 1994, and she in her underworldly guise, as I studied holding space at the end of life and walked my father through it. And it was Artemis, who found me in 1999 through a Drawing Down the Moon ritual with my Tribe, and never stopped revealing herself through my own independence, fierce loyalty to my Tribe, a constant sense of being protected, and a groundedness that has served this archer well.

We chose nourishment and connectedness before starting our work of crafting crowns, and then moved outside to the tables where we took our time in the act of creation. My life-long friends, having practiced the elven circlet made from aluminum wire, offered support and guidance to those who chose that style, while others took to other materials. The idea of choosing simplicity at this stage of life bears great resonance. Whatever each woman chose for herself was exactly right and a work of perfection.

[My cat, Neville – blessing the crowns]

When we returned to the center of our circle, we honored those who had long ago been croned, and affirmed that in this phase of life, we are continuing to learn and grow, to release and receive, and therefore, we may choose to claim our crowns again and again. One who was croned at her second Saturn Return has now reached her third. She would be the one who anointed us all with essential oils symbolic of rebirth.

Each of my sacred gardeners were anointed, then sat to read her words of release and declaration, and then she was crowned with her own crafted headpiece by the woman seated to her right. It meant that we were going counter clockwise in circle, which felt quite right for this phase of life and moon. The following was my offering inspired by Dr. Shefali’s work, which some altered with their own deep meaning.

From the Maiden, I maintain a sense of wonder and curiosity, as I release Her sense of insecurity and not-enoughness.

From the Mother, I maintain an ability to face every challenge with patience and compassion, as I release Her need to put the needs and comfort of others before Her own.

From the Crone, I claim healthy boundaries, confidence in my knowing, and the power of my divine authenticity to expand and call forth joyful experiences of deepening growth and grand adventure.

I am a woman living in the fullness of my truth. I have curated and crafted my sovereignty.

In this moment, I release unworthiness and fear. I part with obligatory servitude and passive acceptance. I divest what is untrue to me, along with unhealthy boundaries of my own and of those who would cross them. I refuse to pretend to be something I am not in order to please others.

In this moment, I now command that I will ascend into my highest power. I will embrace my greatest autonomy. I will celebrate my deepest worth. I will embody my fiercest courage and manifest the most authentic me.

Today, I claim my crown!

[Image created via collaboration with Dean and Delaney Delp with MidJourney]

There was such power in witnessing these words through the bodies and voices of each of my sacred gardeners, and there was deep beauty, as well. Our eldest crone is 86, and living with severe vascular dementia. We have seen rapid decline in her memory and abilities over the last year. Though this was the first time they had met in person, she allowed herself to be cared for by our dear one who had driven so far to be with us. She literally took our elder under her wing and read the words of affirmation, prompting her to add her own life experience into the words provided, and then allowed her to read the words to claim her crown. It was so tender and dear, and this is why my greatest wish for all the world is to know this blessing of heartfelt belonging.

When our circle was open, a couple of dear ones had to depart, but many stayed for homemade dessert, and a mesmerizing fire. There was meant to be music and song, but that was one of the things that fell away. I will add the words of one meaningful offering that may find voice in the future, and a link to another. Both have long been sung by members of our local Unitarian Church, where many of us have also found belonging. We feel that both resonate with the gratitude we hold for the honor of being in this latter phase.

Cup of the Moon by Carole Etzler
Cup of the moon, filling, filling, shining in the night. Cup of the moon, spilling, spilling, spilling out her light. We dance in the light, in the silvery light when the moon is at her fill. And when the cup of the moon is empty, we wait her listening and still.
In the dark of the moon we grow more in tune with the earth and the sky and then, we watch and wait and find joy in knowing the cup will refill again.
We dance in the light, in the silvery light, when the moon is at her fill. And when the cup of the moon is empty, we wait for her to refill.

Carolyn’s Party by Ann Reed

It is now Monday, and evidence of our Saturday celebration in my home is less obvious. The circle of 13 seats has been broken, the kitchen is not quite as recovered as the living room, but what truly lingers is the love. For 26 years, I have hosted gatherings of women (and a few special men) in this home, and I believe it is the residue of all of that light, love, and magick that can be felt upon crossing my threshold. I am grateful for it, and enjoy basking in it. I know the energy of our communion will hold me close for all of my days.

May the season of light deliver all you need with plenty to share.
Thank you for walking this path with me. I love knowing you are here.

Floating in the Light of Love

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.

Deep Grief and the Ailing Oak

For nearly 25 years, I have dwelled within the shade of two oak trees that stand sentinel at the front edges of my yard. Neither are the healthiest of trees; likely accidental volunteers that were permitted to take root and reach for the sky. The one that sits mostly in my neighbor’s yard is particularly special to me. Its branches reach nearly across the entire breadth of my house.

It is a squirrel super highway leading to the neighboring oak, and a diverse bird haven. The branch I spy directly out of my living room window is a perfect perch for our local hawk, and its leaves dance with the grasp of tiny tufted titmice, who grab seeds from the feeder before returning to a loving embrace. There is so much life happening in and around this beautiful being. I celebrate it daily.

Hawk in Upper Branch

Having recently purchased the house next door, my neighbor has had a number of people over to assist with projects required for a new beginning, and each has mentioned a concern for the wellness of the tree that also stretches limbs over her roof. This is a considerable worry in the land of annual hurricane season. To be honest, this beloved tree has been dropping bits of rotted limbs for many years. The Water Oak, we were told, tends to rot out in the middle, becoming a split risk.

So, I informed her that I would grieve deeply, but that I would offer my blessing for her to do the thing I could not do… tree removal.

Yesterday, grief settled into my core. I started researching sacred ceremony for the loss of a tree. I found a beautiful offering from another wordpress blogger, Druid’s Garden (link below). I stepped into the morning air, and spoke words of adoration to this glorious being, and took photos from every angle. I cannot fathom the emptiness that will be left behind. I cried for our pending parting, for the home and shelter that will be taken from so many creatures, and for the horror of chainsaws approaching to tear into diseased and struggling flesh. The thought of it haunts me.

https://druidgarden.wordpress.com/2015/08/24/druid-tree-workings-holding-space-and-helping-tree-spirits-pass/amp/

To come to terms with this inevitable departure, I’ve been considering how we help our pets to move on, when their bodies are no longer serving their spirits. It is an act of compassion. I have regretted waiting too long, to make that impossible call to the vet. Extra hours of suffering that I might have prevented would be that thing… if I could do one thing differently… it would be releasing my selfish hold to allow the arrival of peace.

The most memorable wisdom from studying the End of Life Doula path was Stephen Jenkinson’s chilling words about palliative care prolonging death. Much of his book, Die Wise was sometimes shocking to me, but I took to heart that I would not choose to prolong death, when that time comes for me. My neighbor and I discussed with the tree expert possible plans for making her house safer, but I realize now that anything other than complete removal would be doing what I would not choose for myself. But still… I grieve. Further, I reflect on the five statements of letting go from Ira Byok’s book, Dying Well. “Please forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you. I love you. Good bye.”

This song was playing on Pandora when I entered the house following my tear-filled reverie. Spiral Dance, my favorite Australian band, sing about The Oak and its many gifts to us. “For shelter and shade has the oak tree grown. The ship, the cradle, the hearth and home. Arms so strong they hold the sky. Stood so long that the heart can’t die.” My heart is singing a dirge, but The Druid’s Garden suggests something different… music that eases suffering, and I feel this song will be on my personal playlist. Our playlist; for the tree and me.

I don’t know how much time we have left together, but I have started tying cords, ribbons, and bells to branches within my reach. They represent adornments of my gratitude. When the time is right, I will scatter offerings of dried rose petals and white sage at the base of its trunk, sending my love into deep roots, which have kept us safe through many storms. I will scatter stone beads of Morganite, which will bring healing of trauma to the land which will have lost so much.

When I binge watched Marie Condo’s series on Tidying Up, I was inspired to write a love letter to my home, based on her tradition of greeting a home with gratitude upon entering. I would also offer this gesture to my beloved oak.
https://beethelight.blog/2019/01/04/ode-to-sanctuary/

Beloved, sacred, holy being of earth and sky,
Thank you for loving us. Thank you for extending your beautiful branches into my life. You have long stood sentinel near my home, offering shade and shelter for myself and many. Every summer, you host the return of our screaming cicadas and I am transported to childhood with memories of freedom. As years have passed, you have lost limbs and branches, and I have feared the day when your leaves would drop in the spring, and not return. And yet, you have continued to bloom… thriving through adversity… a body dis-eased but stubborn.
Every day, you remind me to thrive. You validate my own choice to nurture and support the lives and well-being of others. My own scars, bulges, and flaws are held in the light of love, because I have learned to love myself as I have loved you, even when gravity pulls you downward.
In this moment, I cannot fathom your absence. When you are gone, I will feel empty. Many will become temporarily homeless and afraid. Cicadas will rise from slumber and discover the lack of you. The view from my window will be naked and bright, and my heart will be curtained no longer with branches and leaves, but with sorrow and longing. I hope you will forgive me for being powerless to save you. I forgive you for not being strong enough to ensure your safety. I love you for the roots that have broken concrete, reminding me that Mother Nature is more powerful than anything man can do to limit Her progress. I love you for the trunk and branches of holding, which have been the playground of squirrels that have long entertained the cats who live here. I love you for your leaves of change that remind me that everything is temporary – as old leaves fall away to reveal fresh new growth each February.
Everything is temporary. Everything is temporary. And so, I must also say goodbye. I have to let go. Thank you for loving me and for inviting me to love you back. I will miss you when you are gone… every. single. day. But I will also remember you with gratitude and great pleasure, for the memories you have provided. New growth will come again, you have shown me that truth. And just as you have embraced my home and property with your kindness, love and protection… I will be open to receive.
Because of your love, I have no choice but to love again. I love you. Thank you. Hail and Farewell.

Thank you for walking this path with me. I love knowing you are here.

Read This To Me When I’ve Forgotten Who I Am

Every Saturday, since the Spring Equinox of 2020, I have hosted a weekly online gathering of my Sacred Gardeners. These beloved beings joined me for mindful workshops every eight weeks in 2019, and when we couldn’t continue the tradition due to Covid-19, we adjusted. During uncertain times, we found comfort in our togetherness, as we virtually gathered to find reassurance that those we loved were safe and well. We reminded each other that everything would be okay.

When we reached our one year anniversary of weekly meetings, and as we began to celebrate each vaccination, we affirmed how meaningful this connection has become in each of our lives, and how we wish to continue checking-in weekly, even when we are free to safely return to the former gathering schedule.

Following the Holding Space format of checking-in, which I learned from Heather Plett (in the nick of time – finishing up the 6 month course about the time that the world went into lockdown), we would take turns sharing what we’d been doing and how we were feeling over the past week, and then we’d check-out by sharing the plans we have for the week ahead, inviting support and encouragement, as needed.

A recurring theme, as I asked my sacred gardeners to hold space for me over the past year, has been about what I call my swiss-cheese memory… the way that things fall through the holes. I have mostly found comfort in my concern by realizing that I am forced to live more fully in the present, because I am not holding onto whatever may have occurred in the past. Though forgetting something important, like giving my Dad his morning pills, or locking their back door before heading home for the night, especially worries me.

Swiss-cheese memory isn’t new for me. Even as a teenager, my Mom would ask about what might be happening in the life of a friend, with whom I’d spent the day, and I could recall that we had deep conversation, but very little specifics (i.e., she got a new job, but I can’t remember where or doing what). I’ve joked that your secrets are safe with me, because I may not even remember that we ever chatted at all. I will sometimes start telling a story about a memory, only to be reminded that the person I am telling was with me at the time.

I was referred to a Neurologist a couple of years ago, and his assessment was that my memory wasn’t bad, but that I had trouble accessing it. He prescribed Topamax to see if it would help, but after a week of a constant headache and other discomfort (that I can’t quite recall), I let go of the dream of finding resolution.

This week, I actually forgot it was Saturday. Seriously. I failed to set the reminder for the call, and forgot to head to my parents’ place a little early to get Dad out of bed and fed to get home before the start time of my call. I forgot all about this event that I’ve hosted for 58 Saturdays in a row, until the alarm on my phone reminded me that I had 15 minutes before my Sacred Gardeners would arrive in our virtual circle.

Many of us speak of lapses in memory, and fears of being unable to learn and retain new things, but my biggest fear is that someone I care about will feel that something I’ve forgotten might mean that I do not care, that I was not listening when they were speaking, or that I have failed them in our friendship. I have only ever wanted to be remembered as a good friend, and someone who cared about the well-being of others. I hope that translates, somehow… even when I’ve forgotten your name.

I have often been inspired to sit down and write, but by the time I’ve gotten from the point of inspiration to my laptop, the reason has been lost. So, when I finish a piece and post it, there is a level of gratitude and celebration for the act of completion. When I started writing a couple of years ago, if someone asked me what I’d been up to, I would read them my latest blog post, because frankly, my answer would have been quite brief, unless I could also look at my calendar to be reminded that I did something fun last weekend. I thought that I was writing to touch the hearts of others, to inspire, to deliver hope, or to connect with my higher self to nurture self-healing. I figured this was my way of feeling seen and heard, after a lifetime of feeling invisible, in my own self-limiting belief.

But what I know now, is that I am writing for myself. I am writing to capture the memories I’ve been able to access. I am writing to share parts of myself that are faulty and vulnerable. And more than anything, I am writing so that one day, when I’ve forgotten who I am, you might read this to me, revealing the enormous love, bountiful blessings, and glorious magick that has manifested throughout my lifetime. You will remind me that I have been grateful for every little thing in my life, for the way that they turned out to be the important things, not so little at all.

So… in case I forget to say it later… Thank you for walking this path with me. I’m so happy you are here.

The Awareness of Joy

Last week, one of my Thursday circle-mates posed a question for our weekly conversation. It was based on a graphic she had shared earlier in the week, which found resonance. It was based on the idea of how we tend to be painfully aware of what triggers our anger, our fear, our trauma-based emotional and bodily responses to something in any given moment… and asking us to ponder what might be our HAPPINESS triggers.

Graphic that sparked our conversation / from mombrain.therapist, shared by
Women Veteran Social Justice Network

When I saw this, I immediately thought of a recent sensation I had while standing in my kitchen, after a friend had left for home, following our first visit in more than a year… now that we are both fully vaccinated. So… here’s the funny thing about this thought (see my post about my swiss-cheese memory: https://beethelight.blog/2018/08/14/a-blessing-or-a-curse/), I couldn’t remember exactly what it was. Ha!

I swear, it was profound… that thought and that sensation in that moment! I should have written it down. Sigh… What I decided to do, was to write down whatever came to mind on a list of Happiness Triggers. I am now keeping this running list open on my desktop, so that I can add to it when things come up.

(What that feeling might have been, I decided, was this: Not only the one-on-one time I get to share with someone I love, but the time that follows when I can reflect on our togetherness with equal gratitude for the time I now have to spend with myself.)

Walking home from morning ritual at my parents’ house up the street today, I was being triggered left and right, literally (magick happening in neighbors’ yards, as I passed). So, I came home to write it all down.

*Asterisk marks a happiness trigger

It all started when I *woke up in my own bed, *in my own home of 25 years, with *plenty of time for my morning coffee ritual before it was time to be responsible to others. I shook off sleep with *the sound of a favorite book being read to me through Audible. Making my morning pour over coffee has become a form of prayer. As I pour hot water over the grounds of my *favorite coffee, I start with a counter clockwise drizzle to release the oils, and I offer gratitude for the aches and pains I feel, which remind me I am human, and I ask for the release and resolution of it, too. Then, in a clockwise motion, I pour hot water over the grounds with my daily gratitudes to the elements. *I am grateful for the eastern element of air which fills my lungs with the breath of life. *I am grateful for the southern fire which inspires me to action. *I am grateful for the western water that cleanses and heals as waves of loving emotion flow over me. *I am grateful for the northern earth that holds and sustains me, keeping me grounded.

I continue the coffee ritual as I pour cream into my cup, using techniques inspired by Kyle Grey and Jennifer Weigel suggestions for manifesting magick throughout the day. *Thank you in advance, dear Universe, for revealing your magick to me today in ways that I can understand. Thank you for inviting me to be mindful and aware of the messages you are sending, and may I receive them with clarity.

I enjoyed the time I had to myself, with coffee, and reading updates from friends on social media, and then got dressed to start the ‘responsible to others’ part of my day. I stepped out into the beauty of the day, *warm sun and a cool breeze, under a blue sky with puffy white clouds, surrounded by lush greenery on lawns and treetops. As I ventured up the street, a *large dragonfly floated far above me, as I crossed paths with *a flock of young Ibis. I delight in their presence on my block, and always eagerly greet them with, “HI-bis!” They went about their business of bug plucking, and scooted around the *squirrels at play. A *butterfly fluttered by as I turned up my parents’ driveway (*just 7 doors up from my own).

Though I do quite a lot during morning ritual with my folks, there are more days than not, when happiness is triggered for the sheer fact that *all I do is in service to their love and care, which enables a flow that comes with grace and ease. These days, *when I come to the end and tuck them in for the night, and return to my home at the end of the street, I feel enormous gratitude and peace for the blessings we have to be able to live this lifestyle, and for my strength and ability to manage all three of our lives relatively well. I am grateful that on most days… *this feels pretty easy, even though it is quite a lot.

After getting Pop changed and out of bed and into his chair, giving him and one of the dogs their meds, cooking breakfast, cleaning the kitchen, and ensuring everyone had what they needed for a peaceful day, I headed back out into this glorious Florida day. I passed by the flock of Ibis (HI-bis! Say hello to Isis for me!), still doing their part to aerate our lawns, remembering that it was this yard through which I *witnessed an opossum crossing last night (Hi Possum!). Then, in the next yard down, I stopped to *watch a black snake slithering its way through green grass (Oh! Hello!)

As I watched the snake and waved fare-the-well, my neighbor drove up in his little red Moke, I remembered the *bunch of bananas he left on my porch last week, and hoped he enjoyed the Hummingbird cupcakes I baked and shared thanks to his gift of inspiration. Then *another neighbor passed, as I stood in my own yard, *chatting with a blue jay who was singing in my oak tree, and we spoke of the blessing of this beautiful day.

I entered my sanctuary with a mind to *love on my kitties, and to *write all of this down. Next on my agenda is to *indulge in a good nap, and maybe even *a hot bath with epsom salt and essential oil. The bright red *cardinal in the tree outside my window shows up to remind me that my love language is ‘showing up’. So, thank you for showing up, dear ones. I love you more.

By the way, my eyes roll back in my head at *the smell of sweetgrass when I drive through the mountains of North Carolina, and pretty much the sound of *anything performed by Stevie Nicks or Fleetwood Mac starts a bonfire of joy for me. I would love to know what you have noticed triggers happiness for you!


Thank you for walking this path with me, and thank you in advance, dear Universe for making this a magickal day.

*Messages from the Universe
Dragonfly
: self realization; emotional maturity and understanding the deeper meaning of life
Ibis: great wisdom and the ability to work magic
Squirrel: preparedness, abundance, multi-tasking, new-life, rest, better days, and laying groundwork
Snake: fertility or a creative life force, transformation
Butterfly: change, renewal, hope, endurance, and courage to embrace the transformation to make life better
Opossum: expect the unexpected
Blue Jay: truth, faithfulness, and solidarity because they are vigilant in their tasks
Cardinal: devotion, loving relationships, good fortune (for me – love is here)

The Empty Calendar

Today, I pulled down the 2020 calendar to be replaced.

It was a gift from my financial advisor, featuring paintings from The Saturday Evening Post. Once upon a time, I would have passed on such a gift, seeking something more me… with artwork from a Pre-Raphaelite artist or Mary Engelbreit, but since I owe my current lifestyle, in part, to the compassionate insight of my financial advisor, I liked the idea of holding him close. (Thanks Tony!)

What a strange thing… to flip through the pages of a bygone calendar year like the one we’ve just narrowly escaped. To be honest, the world I manage resides mostly on google, but the big things would usually go on the wall calendar. Like a visit from my brother and his family, a trip that might take me out of town, or a workshop I designed to share with others.

In this case, January reminded me of a friend’s knee surgery, Second Sunday Supper, Book Group, and my 51st birthday. February boasted my second annual Seeds of Intention Workshop (where we would assess the different areas of our lives to determine where we wanted to focus our intentions for… the year ahead), filing my taxes, and what would be the last time we would get to see my brother and his wife, who had come up from South Florida.

Then, I flip to March. It’s kind of eerie to look at. There’s a trip to San Antonio for a wedding, followed by a countdown. 14 days to wear a mask each time I entered my parents’ home. Somewhere in this wordpress account, is an unfinished post about the beautiful wedding I attended. It remains unfinished… much like the calendar.

Page after page of 2020 is blank. Void of significant pronouncements. Right up until October 20, which reads: “Dad Broke Hip”. Then, “Pop to Rehab”. In November… there was one weekend marked with something completely different – a two-day escape with a friend to Merritt Island. Then the day before Thanksgiving, “Dad Discharge”. December, again, is blank.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I did nothing with my days. They were filled with enormous care, and loads of love. I have no regrets for the extreme caution we have chosen, in order to keep ourselves and those we love safe and well (not to mention those we don’t know, but care for just the same). Many of those days were filled with learning and growing, with spiritual deepening, with virtual connectedness, and the acquisition of new tools and new skills in the art of eldercare. We miss our people, but so far… though physically distant, we are still all present and accounted for.

But so many are not as lucky as we. Those blank calendar pages remind me of all the lives that were brimming with to-dos and check marks of accomplishment, with no more pages to be flipped. My heart aches for those who have lost loved ones this year, whether to this virus, to dis-ease, despair, or the horrors of brutality. I grieve not only for those who were unable to have the hand of a loved one holding theirs at departure, but for those they have left behind, without the opportunity to be surrounded and held by those who love them, each longing to ease suffering in the smallest, but most meaningful way.

I remember feeling so lucky that Dad had remained relatively well all year, because I couldn’t imagine him being in a hospital or rehab facility, should there be covid restrictions prohibiting visitors. When that fifth fall in a week broke his upper femur, I was relieved to know that he could at least have one visitor each day.

My parents and I have stopped doing the whole gift thing for Christmas. So, this year I bought us the box-set of the 90’s TV series, Northern Exposure. We’ve been watching two episodes each evening. It is a delightful way to end each day. A gift that keeps on giving.

One of the episodes we watched tonight was an old favorite. I think of it each year around the solstice, as the town gathers to celebrate the birth of the Sun, through the indigenous tale of the Raven. The episode takes us through the lives of our beloved community, each unique and fantastic… valued for their individuality and authenticity. Each honors the season of light in their own way, and their community holds space for all of it.

I could weep to remember that this world my parents and I are diving into, with intense longing, is fictional… but frankly, it reminds me of what it means to be Unitarian. I was blessed to grow up, not in a dogmatic religion that excludes the ideas of others, but in a loving community that honors all traditions, and has space at the table for everyone, including Mother Earth, herself.

In a year that has made consumerism feel rather foolish, I was struck by a quote from the town DJ and philosopher, Chris in the Morning: “Happiness doesn’t come from having things… it comes from being a part of things.”

Being a part of several sacred circles this year has delivered great light and joy, in the darkest of times. The big events on the 2020 calendar were few, but commitments to weekly or monthly gatherings on Zoom were consistent and sustaining. We all long to gather again, in safe spaces that are free from shields and obstacles, but what I know for sure is that we can do hard things. We can love others enough to keep them safe for a few more months… or several, if necessary.

As I hung the new calendar where the old one used to be, I opened it to a blank January. So far, it is marked for Inauguration Day and my 52nd Birthday. These pages are holding space for hope. One day, I will get to mark a square with ‘Vaccines’ for the three of us. And then, maybe… at some point… my brother and his family will get a few squares. That will be something to celebrate, indeed.

Thank you for walking this path with me. I am grateful for your presence in my life. Please know that if you are walking through your own darkness, or living with the ache of longing due to a loss that cannot be whispered or spoken, you are held firmly in the light of love. May the Raven soon carry the light of the Sun to brighten your heart and sky. I love you.

Time for Mending

One week ago today, my phone rang at 7:37am. Three out of the four other times that week that my phone rang was in the hour of 2am, so I’m pretty sure my body thought it was home-free, for the night, from the trauma of what those calls announced.

When the caller ID says it is ‘Mom’s Cell’ calling, I know that Alexa is calling me from my father’s bathroom. It informs me that my larger than life, 83-year old father is lying on the floor and that he needs my assistance.

This fifth call in a week wasn’t really a surprise. His Leo’s pride kept him from calling me BEFORE he pushed the button of his lift chair to bring him to his feet (he didn’t want to wake me), and then pull his red Rollator Nitro walker before him so he could struggle to rise and make his way to the bathroom to empty his bladder. Had he called, I could have been unlocking the front door of my parents’ home before he released the brakes to step gingerly away from the safety of his recliner.

Instead, I got the familiar call that puts my body into a trauma response. Wondering where on the floor I will find him, and if this will be the time that I am unable to help.

The fourth call was one of those times, actually. I pulled out the Indeelift device that helps us lift his body to where his knees are at a 90 degree angle, so he can then push himself to a standing position, but he didn’t have the strength to pull himself onto the platform. I had to call for a ‘lift assist’, and the fire department sent over four strong men to set him back into his chair.

But the fifth call… this was the one we were all dreading. This was the one where he didn’t get to decline a trip to the emergency room. This was the one where the pain was too great. This was the one that led to x-rays. This was the one that came with a diagnosis that comes with horror stories. My father, the man with bones and toenails of steel, had broken his hip.

I think he and I both went to that dark place with this news. I asked him what he was thinking, and he said that he was considering everything this would mean. He didn’t elaborate, possibly because I was in tears considering the same thing, feeling as if I had failed to keep him safe. I was thinking that for years I’d heard it said, when an elderly person breaks a hip, they are not long for this world. He was probably thinking he should have called me before the trip rather than after the fall.

It would be 24-hours before they could do the surgery to put a rod in his leg and repair the break in his upper femur. I was grateful that Covid-19 restrictions allowed one visitor to stay with him in the ER and during visiting hours, once admitted. They gave him a pain blocker and some pain meds to get him through the night. As he was drifting off to sleep, and I wished him sweet dreams, he said to me, “We’re going to have to get you one of those handheld crossbows.” I’m not sure where those pain meds were taking him, but I wish I could have seen the view from his perspective.

On Sunday, he was accepted and transferred to a Rehabilitation Hospital that has a pretty strict regimen for recovery. They provide each patient with three hours per day of physical and occupational therapy. The intention is to have each patient out within two weeks. To be honest, I don’t know that any amount of therapy will help. He has a host of complications that may impair the possibility of getting stronger. He fell four times in a week, and that was before he broke his hip. That said, before surgery I asked him if he wanted a Do Not Resuscitate order should anything go wrong, and his response was a resounding, NO! So, here’s to the strength of spirit for something more.

As for me, I have not had a day off of caregiving duty since this time last year. In addition to wanting to stay close for the possibility of a 2am phone call, Covid-19 has never gone into remission in the state in which we live. It hasn’t felt wise to travel and risk exposure or worse, unknowingly delivering the risk to others. 2020 has been a difficult year for all of us, and I have the added joy of constant highway construction just a few yards from my house. It’s like living in a war zone with the sound of dump trucks banging like cannon-fire, constant motion of cranes and power shovels, and then there’s the rattle and hum that shakes the whole house and bounces the art off the walls as dirt is shimmied and compressed into a highway foundation. Oh! And the pounding of pylons! That felt like an all out assault on my entire body. Needless to say… I’m exhausted.

One of the things I have to acknowledge is that I have two significant strengths at play, when it comes to my choice to not go back to work and care for my parents full-time. One is EMPATHY and the other is RESPONSIBILITY. When I am more distressed about our current situation than either of my parents seem to be, it is quite possible that my strengths are out of balance.

I feel obligated to stand at attention and be of service. It’s what I’ve always done. I used to get paid for it. Somehow, in my need to feel needed and worthy of love, I trained myself to give away so much of myself there was nothing left for me. The year my boss was dealing with a hostile takeover, I told myself I couldn’t take time off unless she did, because it would cause HER more stress. My own stress level and five weeks of unused vacation were secondary. Not because she required it of me, but because I demanded it of myself.

I’ve noticed how my body and mind have been telling me that it is time for a break, the way it did during that difficult year at work, but I hate that it may be made possible by my father’s extended stay elsewhere to recover from a broken and mending body.

I’m working on figuring out how to get away during a pandemic, and plans are starting to develop. Meanwhile, I am mindful of how beautiful it can be to find one’s self in need. During these months of lockdown, I have gotten to know my neighbors. Many of us have been here for decades, but the coming and going of our lives kept us passing with a wave or completely out of sight. Now, we have exchanged phone numbers, and text each other to see if anyone needs something from the store. And when a neighbor was outside the morning the ambulance came… I received messages of concern and outreach from several neighbors, wanting to know that we are safe and well, and how they might be of service to me.

Dear friends and beloved community are letting us know that they are holding us close, and they are standing-by, intending to assist in any way. One friend thanked me for allowing her to cook a pot of soup for us this week. I thanked her back, for reminding me how important it is to allow those who love us to be of service, when they are so desperately wishing there was something they could do.

So, thank you, dear ones… for taking the time to read about the heavy burdens I am carrying, for sending your healing energy and caring thoughts for my father’s recovery and wellness, and for holding space for a woman who is still learning how to treat herself with the same kindness and compassion she so abundantly offers to others. Much like the highway that runs through my side yard, I am a never ending work in progress. It seems tedious, but worth the effort.

Thank you for walking this path with me. None of us should have to do the hard things alone. I suspect that when we feel that we are isolated or abandoned, it is because we are too overwhelmed to notice that we are surrounded by a Tribe that has been paving the way all along. Goodness, we are so blessed, and ever so grateful. We hope that you and yours are safe and well.

Joy and Woe Entwined

Each week in my world, an international circle of friends gathers to discuss a random topic. This week’s discussion was inspired by a portion of William Blake’s 1863 (published then, written earlier) poem, The Auguries of Innocence. The piece of the much longer poem that initiated conversation was this…

What happens in circle stays in circle, but I can tell you what rose to mind for me, and some of what I shared… at least, what has not yet fallen through the holes of my swiss-cheese-memory, as we discussed what brings us joy, and what the words of this portion of the poem unearthed.

The thread for which my mind first reached was that JOY is surely woven with SORROW. It brings to mind a tapestry upon a cold castle wall that not only warms the corridor, but seeks to tell a story.

Empathy is one of 34 inherent strengths that comes most naturally to me, and I am also an Aquarian extrovert, so when I think of what brings me joy, the first images to come to mind are, at once – spending time with those I love, and bearing witness to the joy of others. Because I feel the emotions of others, I simply relish the opportunity to know that loved ones are happy, safe, and well.

The most recent example was a friend who called for my support. Facing a change of ‘home’ in her 80s, the uncertainty and the financial challenges felt overwhelming. She’s engaged me as her End of Life Doula, and I confirmed I would be her ‘person’, should there be an -in case of emergency- situation. But I also reminded her that, as she looked at the many options for shelter in the year ahead, that above all, she should remove from her concerns that she would ever be homeless. She is well-loved by many with guest rooms, so her worse-case scenario would never include being abandoned and destitute. With that reminder, her entire being began to relax. She called the next day to tell me that I was right, that everything would be okay, and that she already has solutions. And just like that, her sense of peace, became my JOY.

I sometimes get the sense that when WOE is winning – pressed tightly to the chest – encased in fear, we may fail to see that JOY is right there, too, holding space, and awaiting our notice. When we do, everything relaxes, and as we breathe more deeply, we are able to witness everything falling into place, exactly as it should.

The last blog post I shared, was a plea for your assistance to enhance healing energy for someone in need. And this… is what next came to mind about the entanglement of JOY and WOE. A friend and former colleague had recently come back into my life through social media. She was sharing the joy of her work life and personal life – in a pandemic paradigm, along with the woes of friends who struggled with the deadly virus that took some and spared some. I thought of the blanket of comfort she is weaving now, with a special page dedicated to her beloved’s unexpected and all-consuming battle with lung cancer.

The walls of her castle are warmed with photographs of past adventures, the loving memories of devoted friends, online-gatherings to walk a healing labyrinth on her beloved’s behalf, with prayers spoken, songs enchanted, and the very real terror of the limitations of the body and medicine. Connectedness through community is their lifeline, and joy comes to greet the sorrow with the arrival of bucket list gifts, and friends wearing masks to carry the wounded warrior out of the house and into the car to return to the hospital for more chemotherapy. I am agog with the vulnerability and courage they are each expressing to the universe. They are showing us all how to strengthen the weave.

If you are willing and able to read my last post and wish to add your healing energy to the intention of his wellness, please click here (when you finish this):

https://beethelight.blog/2020/08/22/circle-up-for-love-that-heals/

The third thing that came to mind, was the JOY of building deeper bonds of commitment and connection during the WOES of social injustice and global pandemic. I don’t know about you, but I have a minimum of four online gatherings each week, some of which have been occurring since the Spring Equinox. As the Autumn Equinox approaches, only 15 days away, what started as a way to know that dear ones were safe and well through the early weeks of uncertainty and skyrocketing death rates, has become a comforting salve for our longing.

We long to gather safely in one sacred space, with beautiful smiling faces unburdened by the veil of a mask. We ache for the hugs that remind us we are not alone, and that this is not all a dream, we are real and tangible, and lovable, and necessary in the lives of those who love us. We are grateful for the JOY of this technology, which enables us to, at the same time, sit in the living rooms of those we love, to show them that we are safe and well, and through the light of our eyes, exhibit the sorrows of our seclusion and the commitment to doing whatever it takes to get to the other side of this challenging banishment… for HUGS AWAIT!

I hope my circle-mate won’t mind me sharing this one item that resonated from our conversation that night. She said (far more eloquently) that her grandmother taught her that when she goes about selecting pieces of fabric for making a quilt, she must ensure there are many muted squares – so that the favorite fabrics can be savored all the more.

From afar, I witness the mingled vines of JOY and WOE through what is happening around the country and the globe. Friends in the west are facing the specter of a dry scorched earth as wild fires rage, and the Gulf Coast endures yet another destructive hurricane, and little earthquakes are happening in unexpected places. In other countries, communities are reopening and reconnecting to the lives they once knew… with some caution, but some freedom, too.

And in my own tiny world… amid the WOE of missing hugs and mountain adventures, from this sanctuary I JOYfully embrace the comfort and safety of a home surrounded by oak trees, beloved tiny lizards, and wonderful neighbors. I am writing to you from a peaceful living room that is filled with a great deal of art that I love, and two kitties at rest. We are surrounded by the WOEful heat of this sunshine state, but are blessed by the JOY of air conditioning, while my parents, just seven houses up the street, are doing the same with their three dogs.

We are all safe and well, and continue to find JOY in the small things. That we have each other is not taken for granted, and without a doubt, we know it to be no small thing, at all.

Thank you for walking this path with me. I love you more.