The Journey Inward

Yesterday I visited a nearby mountain park to get an added dose of nature before I head home at the end of the week.  I hadn’t really thought it out very well, because I stepped onto the Lakeside Trail in my traditional open-toe shoes, instead of something more trail appropriate.  I could have turned back early on, but the path kept calling me forward… and so forward I went.  The ‘lake’ was more of a reservoir, and was not round like many lakes back home, but more like a wide river with end caps.  I started my journey, like most adventures in life, without expectation or awareness of what I might find or experience along the way.  At the beginning of the trail, as I traveled counter-clockwise on the map, I found a bench at water’s edge, and so I sat for a moment to contemplate the beauty before me.  The water was filled with all sorts of plant life, and there were trees that had fallen on the bank and into the lake, that were left to become a part of the landscape, creating homes for the creatures that live there.  As I sat there, I would occasionally hear a sound that informed me that something was moving in the water, but each time I heard it, I would look and see nothing more than a slight ripple.  It reminded me of how we often assume that a situation is how we perceive it, based on what we can see on the surface, but how reality is that there is often something of greater depth actually going on beneath the surface.  I took a moment to honor all that was present which I could not see, and then I continued my walk.

Next, I came to a boardwalk structure that crossed the water, and before I was half way across, I gasped to see a young deer with antlers grazing on plant life in shallow water.  This is not something we get to see where I come from, and the sight took my breath away before it brought me to tears.  A couple who were hiking in the opposite direction came upon us, and respectfully stood quietly for a few minutes before gently passing.  I thought about how magick happens throughout our lives, if we are open to it, and how special it can be to have it all to ourselves at times, and also to be blessed to share it with others.  I could have stayed all day to simply stand witness to such grace and beauty, but I decided to offer my gratitude for this moment, and asked to be WOWed again somewhere along my journey.  I was not disappointed.

As I moved forward on the path, having no idea where it would take me, or if I would regret not having turned back for better hiking gear, I couldn’t help but think about my personal life experience with the Artemis Archetype.  After all, the stag is one of her most sacred symbols, and the mountain forest is her realm.  I might turn a curve along this winding path and see her in the distance drawing back her bow.  I thought about how alone I felt on this path, as I could hear no human sound at this point.  I realized that my footwear could betray me on a path filled with tree roots and loose stones, or how I might slip and fall somewhere on this journey and that no one would be around to see me, hear me, or come to my rescue.  It made me think about how unprepared I have been throughout life for the obstacles that would appear in my life, leaving me hurt or disappointed by the actions of others.  But then I realized that my travels with Artemis have always been that way.  I may have had the support of my band of nymphs that I call my Tribe, but the work that I did to move through self-loathing to find my true self-worth and value was always a solitary journey.  It never mattered how emphatically others would assure me of how worthy they found me, I could never find it to be true until I felt it for myself.  And every betrayal and wound I’ve received has always led to learning and the positive evolution of my soul.  And so…  I chose to continue… believing that I was well protected, and that I would find more moments of magick if I simply refused to give up on myself.

As I moved further into the forest, and away from view of the lake, the feeling of solitude grew more profound.  I realized how similar this world that belongs to Artemis resembles the world that belongs to Persephone.  In the non-patriarchal version of her tale, she has chosen to go into the underworld to welcome the souls who have transitioned from the world of the living and are now seeking passage through the veil.  On this lonely mountain path, I could feel the isolation of one’s journey from human form into the mystery of what comes next.  There might be loved ones present to hold your hand for a while, but at some point… you must move forward on your own.  But then I realized through much of my hike that I would hear a recurring sound that was lacking form.  I imagined that it might be the sound of hooves on forest floor, an unseen squirrel or chipmunk, or a bird taking flight in the canopy above.  The message that I received from this awareness was that our perception of aloneness throughout our sacred journey is an illusion.  Even when we cannot see others around us, the truth is that we are never alone.  Whether it be the consciousness that we can step into to deliver strength in a moment of weakness – becoming the warrior and rescuing ourselves, or the presence of guides and loved ones that some of us may never connect with and recognize without the support of a medium, or at the end of life – as witnessed by Hospice Nurses again and again, as their patients acknowledge days or moments before death, alerting them to call the family, for departure time is near.

As I walked the Lakeside Trail, wondering if it would ever come to an end, I walked through fear and kept going.  I walked through solitude, and realized I wasn’t really alone.  I walked through self-doubt and negative self-talk about the foolishness of being ill-prepared, and I kept moving forward.  I walked for three hours straight, and never grew weary.  I acknowledged that my twice-weekly time in the gym had been time well spent, as my legs were strong enough to carry me up hill and down again without complaint.  I passed an occasional human, and while I was glad to see them and smiled as they passed, I was also grateful to continue on my own.  I realized that walking with Artemis brought me to this place… where being alone with myself is a wonderful place to be.  Once filled with self-loathing, I now feel that I make for really great company, and I was so happy to be walking with my own best friend… ME.  As I began to hear the sound of traffic on the mountain road upon which I entered the park, I was pleased to be coming full circle.  I had hoped to be shown the blessings of nature, and I was rewarded with three different deer sightings, each bringing me to tears.  For three hours, I was honored to walk beside two Goddesses who are ever present in my life, and I bowed my head to Persephone in reverence for the guidance and comfort she provides as I explore the path to the underworld, hoping to be one of her torchbearers in the future… holding the hands of those transitioning from human form, until they are finally able to see those who shall greet them on the other side.

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Light Up and Be Happy!

I’m in Tennessee for a couple of weeks visiting friends who have a summer home here.  Tonight, after we took the dogs for their evening stroll, as we returned to the house a firefly landed on my hand.  My friend took the dogs inside so that I could ‘have a moment’ without disturbing my new friend at rest.  It wasn’t even close to twilight, so he wasn’t ready to light up, so as he rested on the back of my hand, I sang to him a little song about the evening to which we both looked forward.  You know… that old favorite from Styx…  “Light up everybody!  Join us in this celebration.  Light up and be happy!  Sweet, sweet sound will fill the air.”  I bet you didn’t know that was a song about fireflies on a summer night, did you?  Ha!

I just love these moments, getting to connect with nature.  It’s not something I often do back home.  From where I sit now, I can hear traffic and neighbors coming and going, but there is also the sound of wind in the trees, crickets chirping, birds singing, and cicadas humming.  I find myself, at times, resenting the obnoxious sound of vehicles passing on the highway nearby, as it feels like such an insult to the orchestra that is playing a temporary tune.  Did I mention that we are also near an airport?  Sigh…  but eventually I am able to refocus on the sounds of nature, and the volume of wind chimes and insect instrumentals rises to the forefront.  Encore!, I say.

As I glance into the yard, I can see the fireflies finally at play.  They lift from grass and tree branch with a spark of light that reminds me of the sparks that pop forth from a blazing fire… rising upward and fading away.  It makes me wonder if they are playing a game of ‘ghost in the graveyard’ together.  “Over here!”  “No, over here!”, they say as their light teases one to follow.  But then they are gone, and another flash of light appears in the periphery, and you turn your head… but…  gone again.  It looks like enormous fun, and yet we are both excluded from the game, and delighted to bear witness.

I alternately enjoy these moments of solitude and wish to be sharing them with others.  So, here I am… inviting you into my solitary moment, so grateful you could join me.  I imagine that car in the distance is yours, winding up the hill and onto our street.  That you walk through the grass and open the gate, then pull out a chair and join me for this exclusive performance of the most beautiful concerto to be heard by human ears.  We reach across the table and hold hands for a moment, breathing deeply of the gratitude for this sacred moment upon the earth… together.  From this view, we can see that everything really will be okay.  I promise.

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Mountain Music

I am sitting on the porch of my friends’ Tennessee home, and the breeze offers a slight chill as it plays with my hair while the lowering sun caresses my skin with warmth.  A variety of birds are singing their evening songs which speak of a beautiful day blessed by sunshine and the smell of sweet grass.  Several are dancing around the nearby feeder, reminding me that the term ‘eats like a bird’ doesn’t mean what most people assume.    My friend lost his sweet mother last year, and this space that we are blessed to enjoy was lovingly referred to by that kind and generous woman as Mockingbird Cottage.  Her gentle spirit still surrounds us in this heavenly place. and I can sense that she is near… laughing at the hungry birds at play, and recalling the way the wind once felt against her skin on a cool summer evening.  She and I close our eyes and breathe deeply of this moment of shared peace and solitude.  We anticipate the arrival of fireflies within the next hour.

I drove up on Friday, and the journey was pleasant as the companion I chose read to me his words of experience and wisdom with the voice of a philosopher.  I downloaded required reading for my end of life doula coursework through Audibles, and Stephen Jenkinson’s voice fed my mind throughout my ten hour journey with his thoughts on palliative care from his book called DIE WISE: A Manifesto for Sanity and Soul.   Eight hours of reading remains, and he has already given me so much to think about… mostly about the way that death, though it is the one guarantee that comes with birth, is something that most people fear and run from.  Many of his patients who chose palliative care when a diagnosis became a prognosis would later come to curse the effectiveness of their treatment, as it was keeping them alive long past their wish to continue.  In other words, it may have given them more time, but it did not necessarily give them more ‘life’… just more suffering.  That kind of took my breath away.  It made me think more clearly about the wording I would use in my advance directive, the official forms which will state my wishes for end of life care.

It also made me think about the act of dying, and the choices one makes for how to spend their final days once a deadline has been given.  And if one would choose to do things any differently, at that point, (assuming the body was able) why we would wait until we’ve been given a deadline to start living in a way that would finally feed our soul.  Should we not be spending all of our days that way?  I mean, the day we are born the one thing that is certain is that we will also die.  It seems to me that there is always a deadline, its just that the expiration date is hidden beneath the fold of awareness.

I wonder what that might look like for me… a well-fed soul, and I believe that it looks something like sitting outside on a summer evening to hear the cacophony of birds chirping, cicadas humming, and distant dogs barking.  It also looks like valuable time spent connecting with dear friends, and making new ones at a mountain art festival.  It looks like smiling at the tiny green bug that just landed on the keyboard, and resting until it is ready to take flight.  It looks like taking the time to dive into a topic that once felt overwhelming and frightening, so that I may one day be of service in a way that transcends and ascends my former level and ability of caring.  It looks like choosing to fill the rest of my days, be they long or few, with greater purpose and meaning.

Sitting here, in this sacred space outdoors, with the spirit of this sweet lady that I was blessed to know and shall always adore, I can list the messages that nature has delivered for my inability to hear her voice.  The symbolism of the mockingbird is overcoming fear.  The symbolism of the hummingbird, whose presence inspired the urge to write, is lightness of being and enjoyment of life, as well as the reminder to be more present.  The symbolism of the fireflies for whom we wait, is self-illumination, guidance and freedom.  As I glance over my shoulder to see if they have yet arrived, I see a cardinal at the feeder and smile to myself to realize that the symbolism of this particular bird is a reminder to realize the importance of your purpose in life… while for some, it informs them of the presence of a loved one lost.  She knows I’m thinking of her and that I know she is here… affirmed by a glance before me to see that cardinal making his way across the darkening yard, stopping to look back at me from a moment’s perch atop the umbrella in the yard.

I am grateful for this time that I have given myself… to explore the depths of my soul before stepping blindly into a new chapter that might be less than fulfilling, to breathe deeply with gratitude for the beauty of nature and for that which we cannot see or hear without the courage to open our hearts.  After all, love is not something visible to the eye… it can only be felt with the heart.  So, I dare you, dear ones to close your eyes and open your hearts.  There are messages flashing before you, like the fireflies who have just arrived.  I’d love for you to join me in this reverie of light and flight!  Tell me…  what do you see?

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The Umbrella Principle

There are five things, according to Dr. Ira Byock who wrote Dying Well, that can bring comfort and closure at the end of life.  In each of our relationships, as we near the end of our days, we may pass through the veil without regret if we are able to tell those we love the following:  Forgive Me, I Forgive You, Thank You, I Love You, Goodbye.  My study of end of life doula work has opened a portal for conversations with others about their own experiences with death, and I am grateful for these opportunities.  There is obviously overwhelming heartbreak involved in each story, but there is also a call to mindfulness, and at times… grace.

But what about the relationships that never have such closure, because those who were departing did not exactly plan to leave their bodies behind quite so soon… or because they were too fearful to broach such topics with those they love?  If life is filled with lessons, perhaps unexpected loss is a reminder to each of us that such endeavors need not wait for the clarity of a terminal diagnosis.

Though my parents and I hope to be in each others’ lives for years to come, we have taken time here and there to discuss our thoughts.  With their recent update to their “Last Will and Testament” documents, which came with buying a new house up the street from me, Mom and Dad each completed the “Five Wishes” form, which provides a format to help us consider our end of life wishes.  A few items for consideration are who can speak for your healthcare needs when you are not able to speak for yourself, in what situation would you deny life-saving efforts, who would you like at your bedside as your spirit returns to its original energetic form (that’s my wording, of course), and how you’d like the body you’ve left behind to be cared for at that time.

As my friend and I connected from opposite corners of the country to discuss her experiences, I shared with her the memory of the departure of a mutual friend of ours in the late 90’s.  He was only 32, and though he had a serious diagnosis, a side-door illness swooped in and took him from us with unexpected haste.  I can see his final days, dimly lit, in the back of my mind.  He had refused to discuss his wishes with his partner, and as we set to the task of planning and arranging his memorial service, the grief seemed greater for the fear of getting something wrong.  At the time, my (then) partner and I were only 28, but within weeks of our friend’s celebration of life, we celebrated our own with official documents that stated our wishes should one of us be lost to the other without warning.  As for the stories my friend shared with me, she suffered a few tragic losses in her youth, but one that was expected was that of her grandmother.  Now, her grandmother had been incredibly mindful of her wishes, and was mostly clear… mostly.  She had planned and even executed her entire funerary arrangement… right down to purchasing the flowers for her casket and securing transport of her body from hospital to funeral home.  Her loved ones would not need to do anything but grieve at her loss.  However, her advance directive left for her doctors to follow was not so clear, and there was some confusion.  In other words, if you are ready to go, but you’ve not declined life-sustaining treatment with your healthcare providers (and your health surrogate), they are honor bound to provide them.

I know that the end of life is a difficult subject for most of us to consider, but I wonder if it might be easier to think about it a little differently.  You know how it seems to rain when you don’t have an umbrella, and how when you are mindful enough to carry one, no matter how dark it gets the rain never comes?  Well, that’s how I see this form of preparation.  Not that having these discussions with loved ones and securing official documentation of your preferences will keep the inevitable at bay… after all, it is the one guarantee in life that is presented on the day we are born.  But I submit for your consideration that if you have done the work of mindfully caring and sharing your authentic wishes for a peaceful transition from this world to the mystery of what comes next, you will gift yourself and those you love great freedom to live each day fully present.  I updated my own documents before my last trip abroad, in case I were to fall off of a cliff in Ireland, and I recently wrote a ritual of departure for such an occasion though I’m not sure of when I will next enjoy such adventure.  It was a surprisingly cathartic exercise.

All of that said, I would like to take a moment to tell you that if I have ever wronged you or caused you harm in any way, I am deeply sorry and I hope that you will forgive me.  If you ever wronged me or caused me harm in any way, I have come to understand from my own deep regret that such actions likely came through suffering of some kind, and I forgive you.  For your presence in my life and for even the tiniest expressions of kindness and care, I offer you my gratitude.  For the love that you have offered so freely, not only to me but to your family, your friends, your community, our planet and all of Her beloved creatures… I love you more.  There’s one more thing… but I’m not quite ready to say goodbye (I hope).  For now, I’ll bid thee hail and farewell until we meet again.

If you are interested in learning more about determining your own advance directive, you can check out this link:
http://www.caringinfo.org/i4a/pages/index.cfm?pageid=3277 , you can also google Five Wishes.

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Death and Rebirth

The act of becoming involves a sort of death.  When we realize that we can no longer return to a former life once responsible for our prosperity, identity, and validity, there is a process of grieving and release that must take place.  Reaching the one year anniversary of my departure from that former life surprised me.  As I looked back at that former life, I could find no regret for its loss.  It was interesting that the lunch date I had with my former work partner was postponed by two weeks, and on that rescheduled morning a facebook memory revealed the 2017 announcement of my departure.  It was poetic to be sharing that anniversary afternoon with the last meaningful work relationship I had in that past life.  Together, we share a sense of warmth and love that transcends traditional roles in the corporate world.  After lunch she texted a photo to the man who hired us both, and bragged that we were together.  Minutes later, her phone rang, and the three of us were instantly connected, as if no time had passed, and yet all of our lives are vastly different from when we last walked those halls at the same time.  It had been nine years since his retirement, which informed me that his second grandbaby, who arrived on the day he announced his pending retirement, was indeed the young girl in a photo he sent, playing golf with her brother.  We talked about that day, and he said that it was at the birth of her big brother that he decided he would retire.  As an executive, he was expected to make a presentation at a board meeting which was being held out of state on the same day his eldest daughter was giving birth to her first child.  His grandson, who was given his name, was born an hour before he hopped on the corporate jet.  The role he committed to in corporate America meant missing much of the growth of his own daughters, and he realized that being a grandfather was a sacred opportunity he was not willing to miss. I remember him saying to me on the day I helped load his car as he left the office for the last time, “Melissa – I feel like I’m getting a second chance!”  His sacrifice afforded his family great comfort, but I’m not sure if he would have chosen a different path if he’d known what he was to miss… so many hours of work and three college degrees, his wife feeling like a single mother of three, much of the time.  I think he was a little nervous about his decision to retire, at first.  What I know for sure, is that once he was on the outside looking in… he never looked back with regret for leaving.  He now has five grandchildren, and keeps very busy with travel to three different states to spend time with them.

As for my most recent partner, she too had given up her personal life for the commitment she had made to the corporation. I can recall a certain corporate crisis that had her calling in from her 30th anniversary cruise with her husband.  In the last couple of years of our partnership, she was experiencing almost daily migraines.  When we were finished with the lunch she had prepared for me, including fresh baked bread, she brought out a huge stack of professionally printed photo books, which documented at least a dozen trips she has taken with her husband and her adult children in the last four years.  She hasn’t had a migraine since she retired.  She acknowledged that her daughter, a doctor, has chosen not to pursue her own practice, which would require a greater commitment of time.  She has chosen to live her life for herself, rather than living for running a business.  She didn’t struggle with that choice her child had made, she honored it.  Like her predecessor, she recognized her personal sacrifice, and though she loved those years in a meaningful career, she is happy to be living such a full and active life with her family now.  She and her husband will continue to travel for as long as they are physically able… or until grandbabies come along to join the granddoggies.

So, at my one year anniversary of what I’ve dubbed ‘retirement rehearsal’… with one partner nine years retired and the other three years retired, I worried a little about what each might think of my choice not to return to the corporate world in a role that I have held for the last 25 years.  After all, it doesn’t seem like a rational choice.  And yet, I was met not with reproach, but with complete understanding and support.  It was even suggested (among other ideas) that I consider renting out a room in my house, and simply working part time, so that I can have the freedom to do what really makes me happy.  Of course… they get it!  They get me.

These two people were pivotal in my personal growth and development of an identity that helped me to feel valued, appreciated, and worthy when I could not find that for myself.  Having witnessed the extraordinary burden they carried at the end of their careers makes getting to see the beauty of their full and joyful lives in retirement that much sweeter.  I’m so grateful for those years and for these relationships.  I have no doubt that we will continue to celebrate all that flourishes in the lives of one another for many years to come.

Of course, I’m nowhere near actual retirement, but I am happy to follow their lead.  I don’t have children or grandchildren to follow, but I do have a plethora of passions.  My intention is to create a future from which I will never wish to retire.  In the tarot, there are two cards that would symbolize the last year of my life.  The first would be The Tower, when lightning struck and my whole world changed in an instant with the end of a sixteen year career from which I had once imagined retiring.  The next would be The Death Card, which is where I am today.  Before I understood that I would not be continuing on the path I had traveled for the last 25 years, I sat down to connect with my creativity guide, and drew a random card from the deck.  It was Death.  And this is what I wrote:

Transformation

In the tarot, the Death card symbolizes change or transformation. It reminds us that everything changes… one season passes into another, the mother becomes the crone… without the dying leaves, we would fail to witness the rich beauty of autumn, which briefly awes our senses with a multitude of colors and textures before each leaf falls to the ground, transforming into rich fertile ground that will feed the roots of the tree from which they’ve fallen.

Throughout our lives, we come to our own autumn season – when it is time to reflect on the beauty and the darkness of what has gone before… to honor those moments and lessons, to give thanks – even for the darkness (for it has shown us the light), to let them gently fall away, and to prepare for what is yet to come. Remember that once the leaves fall from the tree of life, there is a period of rest, followed by the surprising POP of new growth, so vibrant and stunning, stark contrast from the nakedness of dormancy, that we cannot help but celebrate the utter joy of new life being presented.

So here’s to the coming of autumn… to the beauty, to the sorrow, to the gratitude, to the slumber, to the waking, and to the rebirth. Gather it into a great big cushy pile and fall back into it. Bury yourself in the memories… and finally… emerge with a smile, brush yourself off, and move forward… into the light.

All three of us have experienced a form of death, if you think about it.  The souls that once existed in the corporate world have all been reborn into something different… Formerly serving the expectations of shareholders, and now serving the hearts of our beloved families and spiritual communities. There is not regret for what we may have missed, only gratitude for all that we gathered…  And great anticipation for all that is yet to come.  I can’t wait to see how it all turns out.

(The Death Card from Colette Baron-Reid’s The GOOD Tarot)

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Transmute and Transcend

Today has been a difficult day.  Not really for any good reason… it seemed like an energetic thing.  Kind of like an indescribable ‘ick’ that sits thickly within one’s surroundings.  I sat down to my end of life studies and found no drive.  I opened the book I penned earlier this year, and I had no will to read.  I glanced at my blog, and had no words to share.  My soul-daughter reminded me that Mars goes retrograde tomorrow (in my own sun sign, no less), and that it means we will all be reviewing the past… so that we may then be free to move forward.  This is our chance to slow down and consider past actions and patterns, and how they have served us… and what habits might be hindering our progress for the evolution of our higher selves.  Sigh… if I get it all done today, can I just go on vacation from the hard work for the next two months, until Mars goes direct at the end of August?  Please?!  Well, no… my goddess girlie assures me that we will all get to face these old issues for the next two months, so let’s just plan to get through it… feel all the feels, and be prepared to move forward along with the perceived trajectory of Mars.

Being only a little stubborn and wanting to get the show on the road… as she headed out – I started my journey in.  On Saturday, a few members of my spiritual community gathered to celebrate the Summer Solstice.  The meditation guided us through a honeycomb beehive of past mistakes and regrets, and when we emerged we focused those morsels of restriction into honey and beeswax candles to be transmuted and transformed… into the sweetness of life, which only occurs when we are able to acknowledge how far we’ve come, and how much we’ve grown.  “Last night, as I was sleeping, I dreamt that I had a beehive here inside my heart.  And the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my past mistakes.” ~Antonio Machado

This evening I continued that process, and I lit my beeswax candle along with some sage and dragonsblood incense.  I called upon that which I cannot see with my eyes, yet is always present, and moved into the sacred art of flow.  I set pen to page and awaited the words.  They came as they always do, in curving lines of surprise.  Who knew THAT was still in there?  A list of names unworthy of her love and affection (save for one) – that girl I used to be, going back three decades… the pattern identified as giving at a deficit of receiving.  All she ever wanted was to be loved enough… but she didn’t even love herself.

Words written in the color of blood, she poured out of her heart every ounce of bitterness and sorrow, then sealed it up with smoke and flame.  Five pages consumed by ink, and then by fire…  into the bowl of banishment.  Ashes smoldering then doused by the sacred waters from the heart of Ireland… St. Brighid’s and St. Brendan’s wells.  Then taken to that place in the side yard, near where her sweet Arthur was lost – has it been three years passed?  Asking her beloved boy to help with the transformation from ash to resurrection… delivering the kind of deep-soul-love that his adoring gaze once made her feel.

Sage and incense still permeate the air, but it does feel less heavy… the ‘ick’ is gone.  The candle has only moments of flame remaining, the light flickers in the base of its holder, the stick no longer exists.  Transmutation is complete.  Thank you.  I love you.  I love me.  It is done!

Dear ones, should you find yourselves in deep reflection of your personal past over the next several weeks… please be kind to your heart.  It was doing the best it could.  Your soul appreciates the lessons and remains unharmed.  These are lessons in forgiveness.  Forgive yourself for the ignorance of youth and for every lesson that arrived ‘the hard way’.  With mindful awareness, we do have the freedom to move into the future with an intention of continuing the process of growth and evolution, asking the Universe to deliver each ‘the fun and loving way’.  That is MY intention, anyway.  Make it so!

(St. Gobnait – Patron Saint of Bees and Beekeeping – Gougane Barra, Ireland)stgobineta (2)

Release and Receive

Next week I will go back into the studio to record more of the meditations I’ve written over the years.  As I was reviewing and selecting which ones I would share, I recognized a common theme… releasing, banishing, or letting go of what no longer serves us.  If each of these meditations relates to a Celtic holy day, that means that at least eight times a year I am asking my listeners to just let it go already!  Of course, if my listeners are anything like me, they may just need the reminder.

On the way to finding self-love, if one has spent a lifetime reciting a list of accusations and false claims about one’s appearance and worthiness of deserving good things, one might take a while to break such habits, especially if one is nearly a half century along in said habit.  As for me, I have been vigilant about reprogramming negative self-talk, and yet every once in a while, I find myself berating my body for not being the size or shape of what American structure dictates to be acceptable.  And every time I catch myself falling back into this despicable behavior… despicable because if I were ever witness to someone saying these things to someone I loved, I would stand with the power and passion of mother bear to demand they consume their own words, and dare them not to choke on them… I must go back to the beginning and do it over in a way that is loving and kind.  Constant vigilance.

Though the Celtic New Year is at Samhain, which is October 31, I consider the cycle to begin at Imbolc, which is February 1.  Since the Celtic culture revolved around farming communities, the symbolism is based upon our relationship with the land.  Imbolc is when seeds are planted, and for me it seems like a logical place to start… first, we decide what we wish to bring to harvest in the coming year, and then we plant that intention.  If we were actually to plant something in the ground, as I witnessed my friend who doesn’t have a brown thumb do for my parents this evening, we would first have to prepare the soil by removing any obstacles that may be in the way.  We pull weeds and till the soil… as we must in life… remove those limiting beliefs and open our hearts to receive what can only come our way in this state.  If our palms are tightly clenched, there is no way to receive the treasure being offered.  Being open is key to receiving.  For this reason, I find myself in a perpetual state of letting go.

With the Celtic Wheel of the Year being conveniently spaced out in eight week increments, it seems like a perfect opportunity to remind ourselves to take stock.  If we planted symbolic seeds to start a new career, we can reflect on our progress and decide if we’ve been procrastinating or slacking on our commitments.  If our intentions were to build community or create a tribe, but we haven’t left the house since Imbolc… well, we need to make some plans and get out into the world at the Spring Equinox.  The thing about planting seeds is that they need to be watered, and if weeds have begun to choke our precious sprouts, they must be liberated from such obstacles.  Our minds work much the same way.  How can we attain the joy and happiness we desire if we are allowing negative thoughts to own real estate in our minds?  Bitterness and regret are the weeds that crowd our sacred garden, and if we allow them to flourish, our harvest will be bankrupt.  Do you want to harvest sun flowers or poke weed?  If you never do the work of clearing your field, you won’t have the freedom to plant your desires.

So, here we are at the Summer Solstice and in just eight weeks we will greet the first harvest, known as Lughnasadh on August 1.  I think about the seeds I have planted and I wonder if I have been caring enough to ensure their safety.  Have I sufficiently cleared out of my life the negative influences that would stunt their growth?  As a new obstacle was discovered in my field of plenty, was I able to lift the burden from tender roots to reintroduce their sweet limbs to the radiant source of light?  I hope so!  And I wish the same for you, dear one.

May the glorious healing sun bring blessings of abundance into every area of your life.    May any perceived limitations or obstacles be easily released and removed from your sacred field of fruition.  May the coming harvest season bring all of your hopes and dreams into magnificent manifestation.  Know that your presence on my journey is among my most valued and precious yield.  HAPPY SOLSTICE!

SUNFLOWER

Thanks Universe!

There is this really cool thing that seems to happen with some level of consistency.  The Universe delivers exactly what I need or who I need at just the right moment, to ensure that I do not have to suffer a crisis of faith.  Doesn’t this happen to you?  Don’t you love it when it does?

For many years, for more than a couple of decades in fact, I was in a position of clarity.  I knew with a sense of certainty that I was in the right place doing the right thing.  I loved my work and I felt an overwhelming sense of being loved at work.  It sounds strange, I know, but if you believe that what goes around comes around, well… that was my truth.  I loved what I did for a living and I adored and respected the people with whom I served.  Over time, things changed and the joy and the love were not as clear… and the Universe delivered a message which I could no longer ignore.  It said to me, “Melissa, now that you’ve got this whole self-love thing in the bag… you don’t need to keep a job that no longer serves your spirit for the purpose of validating your self-worth.  It is time to seek and fulfill your life’s purpose.”  And then the Universe, which can sometimes be an asshole, left me hanging with no immediate clue as to what the purpose might be.  But I’ve learned a thing or two over the years about being patient, paying attention, and that purpose was slowly revealed to me… one miraculous clue at a time.

What I can tell you about this discovery is that even when it seems obvious that the correct path has been revealed, one can still have moments when clarity is lost and the struggle of insecurity and self-doubt creeps back in.  Self-doubt is an old nemesis from my days of self-loathing, and though it has been cast out it continues to lurk on the outskirts of my existence, threatening to return with all of its darkness to try once again to snuff out my light.  But alas, the Universe, not always an asshole, tends to step in just in the nick of time to deliver a booster shot of confidence to bolster the new paradigm that supersedes that former false belief of limited potential.

Today I received a text message from a dear friend I’ve not seen in several months.  “Hello.  You up for a couple visitors tonight?”  And so it was that our months of unintentional separation were ended, and the three of us were reunited with a warm embrace.  I hadn’t realized how much of my personal evolution was missing from my friends’ awareness.  I’m pretty much an open book in the world of facebook, so even my mother’s friends know what I’ve been up to, but I guess I can’t expect everyone to be checking in on my shared revelations through the world of social media.  Reflecting on more than 20 years of friendship, with most of that time seeing me in the same job with not much to report, I have probably been more of an inquirer and a listener for most of our acquaintance.  I love to know how friends have been faring and receive updates on the growth and progress of their children, and if they still love or hate their jobs, or how they are overcoming obstacles.  If I ever perceived myself having obstacles, it wasn’t very likely that I would want to ‘burden’ others with the details, and more than likely, I was in denial about having any obstacles in the first place.  Our friendship dove to new depths several years ago when he went through divorce.  Oddly, we both experienced a sense of betrayal and our friendship grew stronger through sharing the darkness through which we each struggled, and celebrating our individual journeys back into the light.  This experience, I believe, created a sense of kinship which invites deep connection, even when our time together is sparse.

When he and his girlfriend arrived, I was delighted to see them both, and we began discussing a topic about which I had inquired through text message about a week ago.  He is a branding genius, and I have found myself in the uncomfortable position of self promotion.  If you were to scroll down to my very first blog post, you would understand that I wrote a book earlier this year, and that a publisher had replied with intrigue, but required that I create a following and inquire again.  I’ve only been doing this writing thing since November, so the fact that I sat down and wrote a book from start to finish, with a complete table of contents that wrote itself and then allowed the systematic completion of each chapter within two months was pretty astonishing on its own… but now you want me to write a blog… and create a following?  Craziness!   And now, I’ve become a recording artist, having professionally produced my first guided meditation and published it through cdbaby, which released last week… and now that needs to be advertised through social media, too?  Until a few weeks ago, I had nothing more than a single page on facebook.  Now I have a whole host of sites that require titles, user ids and passwords… but now what do I do with them?!  Sigh…

So, that was how our conversation began.  What I found as I was explaining my needs and concerns was that somewhere in the fray of daily overwhelm, which comes with scrapping your entire former identity and seeking, developing, and solidifying a new one, I felt kind of unsure of where I was going.  The gift from the Universe arrived as our conversation continued.  He wanted to know what else I had been doing, you know… besides the blog… and I told him about the book I wrote about my journey from self-loathing to self-loving, and I told him about the meditation released last week, and how I had designed a series of meditations to correspond with the chakras, and oh, yeah… I’ve started writing another book based on my studies to become an end of life doula, and how it is a sister to the previous book.  Now, the recordings interested him, because he is also a musician – a collaboration, perhaps, and because he has ‘maximizer’ in his top five strengths, he was able to rattle off a list of ideas, each met with my already written plans for such endeavors.  Each time another piece of my story was ready to unfold, I would pull out something I had written which could explain where I’ve been and how I’ve gotten this far with great detail and eloquence.

All of these pieces coming together were affirming.  Perhaps I haven’t been wasting my time, after all.  Maybe I am on a path toward future success and happiness.  But it was in the conversation about end of life studies that we deeply connected, tonight.  His thoughts mirrored my own, about the way that the end of life is a natural part of living, and it seems a shame that it is feared rather than revered.  It was funny how he would make a statement about his wishes, and how mine were similar and already written down within the early pages of this new book.  All three of us want to be cremated rather than buried, and no open caskets.  He and I both, if we are given a deadline, wish to have a living wake before we go… because neither of us would want to miss a great party.  I talked about what I had learned from my studies about finding peace before departure.  The five things required for relationship completion, as listed in the book Dying Well by Ira Byock, M.D. are this:  I forgive you.  Forgive me.  Thank you.  I love you.  Good bye.

For my departure, if there is time to plan, I would want a gathering place with comfy seating and dim lighting, with the magick jukebox set for random play, to ensure a lovely mix of Fleetwood Mac, Loreena McKennitt, and KIVA (just to name a few of my favorites).  He and I would both want to have enough time to connect with each person in our lives… and I affirmed his request with a plan for each discussion.  Aside from the ‘five things’, we would each tell each other what we recall about our first meeting and about a moment in our shared history when we made a difference in each others’ lives.  It was not difficult for me to pull up these moments, and since we never really know how many days we have remaining, I leaned over and took his hand and told him, “When I first met you, your hair was down to your shoulders, and I thought you were absolutely amazing.”  And, “One of the times you made a real difference in my life was on that one terrible, horrible no good day, when the rug was yanked from beneath me, and I felt as if my world was tumbling down.”  As I cried on the phone to my Mom, her response was to have me hang up so she could call my Tribe.  The call she made was to his wife (at the time), and though she was tied up with a work commitment, she reported that HE was on his way, and would be there soon.  And he was… he arrived within the hour bearing cone cake from the local Chinese bakery.  I can’t recall exactly what he said to me, as we consumed our sponge cake made with rice flour, but whatever it was… it was exactly what I needed to hear.  Of everyone who had offered support that day, it was his presence and his words that brought me peace.  I could name a hundred other moments when his friendship and devotion really wowed me, but I think I’ll save that for couch time when one of us is preparing for departure, forty years from now.

I shared with my friends the alternative plan for my departure, which will be executed should I not have time to plan, and read to them the words that I plan to record to be played at my parting ritual.  And as they prepared to head home, we hugged a little bit tighter, a little bit longer, and once more for good measure.  And as I’m sitting here, committing this memory to the ether, I am taken aback by the realization that should I die tomorrow, I will have made manifest one of my dying wishes… to be able to share with someone who made a difference in my life the glorious reflection of his divine being.  If he didn’t recall that awful day on which he brought me such comfort, I hope that he will remember THIS day, and what a blessing we are to each other.  His enthusiasm for my writing and my work elevated my confidence level, and enabled me to sit down and share words that may inspire, or at least help someone fall asleep.

I’d love to hear about your end of life wishes, if you’d like to share.  And in case you’d like to travel with me through meditation, you can acquire a copy of “Release the Warrior Within” at cdbaby or iTunes (see links below).  I’ll figure out this self-promotion thing, eventually.  Love, love, love…

https://store.cdbaby.com/Artist/MelissaBaker1
https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/1399828129

(a manifestation candle made with my friends’ wishes for my 49th year)

friendshipcandle

The Light That Pierces Shadow

Today I was blessed to spend time with a dear friend with whom I feel safe to go deep.  We found each other at the beginning of my tenure at the workplace I left last June.  I had a certain bumper sticker that alerted her to a kindred spirit on the grounds, and I was delighted to find her business card tucked into my car window that December afternoon.  When I responded to the note she was already gone for the holiday, therefore our destined meeting was delayed.  We set a lunch date upon her return, and on that day I walked into the building and got onto the elevator with a stunningly beautiful, petite woman of color and between us a kind of electricity resonated.  Somehow, though we had only exchanged a note through email, we knew that we had just found each other without even trying.  This is how our story goes… time passes and we reconnect, deeply sharing and caring, mutually delivering epiphany and expansion… without even trying.

Neither of us left that place of business (after nearly two decades) by choice, though her departure preceded mine by a few years.  I remember something she said to me, as I was still recovering from the shock of my own forced leaving.  She shared with me a truth that is known only to those who have escaped the corporate world and managed to find their own way on the outside.  She said that in that place, they would reward us one moment and tell us we weren’t good enough the next, and that if I should choose to create a life for myself outside of that tyranny, I would discover that I am not really a failure, or not quite cutting it, or that I excel at one thing but disappoint elsewhere.  If I had the courage to create a future for myself that was beyond those confines, I would discover the glorious truth of my being… that I am quite emphatically… enough.

Today we chose to have lunch at our favorite bohemian spot downtown, before heading over to the ravine for a walk in nature that remains one of our city’s best kept secrets.  Something happened, that one would not expect in such an establishment, where most guests dine because there are no animals harmed in the production of one’s meal.  A woman entered the crowded entry and cut in line.  It was forgivable, since it seemed more like a mob than a line, but the weird thing was this woman’s behavior towards us… and more so toward my friend.  When she suggested that my friend should give up her designer purse to raise money for the homeless, and my friend gently declined (assuming she was joking), she was accused of not being Christian.  Now, neither of us happen to be Christian, but I would argue that she and I are certainly more Christ-like than this poor soul.  When my friend shared with her that she felt she was being inappropriate, she pulled out her phone and threatened to call the police.  It was the strangest thing I’d ever witnessed.  My first assumption was that this woman was mentally ill, but when I had a moment to reflect on my friend’s ability to stand up for herself… I realized that this behavior is something she has had to deal with her whole life.  This, my friends, is called white privilege.  In my lifetime, I have had the privilege of NOT having to deal with the poor behavior of racists.  Fat shamers, yes.  Racists, no.

When we sat down to share sustenance, I was expressing to my beloved friend my sense of rage, outrage, anger, and shame for what is happening in our country.  Not that this behavior is anything new, especially to those with skin tones beyond the shade of beige.  But the climate nursed by having a racist fascist regime in the White House is clearly giving rise to behaviors and atrocities that are also not new to this world.  In fact, we’ve seen this behavior within the last century.  It is sickening to me to be witness to this downward spiral of our beloved country.  Day after day our senses are being assaulted by sheer hatred and vapid ignorance.  One doesn’t have to be sensitive or even psychic to be able to see where we are headed. It is just so incomprehensible to believe that this goes on and gets worse each and every day, and that it feels as if there is no end in sight… until the day comes when they come for me… and there is no one left to speak.

I have struggled with the concept of not wanting to add negative energy into the mire of our destruction, feeling that my best action is to send it light and love with every fiber of my being to remind the Universe that there is still purity and peace on this planet, and that if we can all raise our vibrations in songs of love, rather than in screams of anger, we might just manage to overcome this darkness.  I expressed this inner turmoil to my friend, because the truth is that I am over the moon with rage, my anger could fuel a thousand suns, I could melt every weapon of death and destruction with my repulsion to their very existence… but I just don’t know how to express all of these things in a way that could possibly add positive energy to the pool of possibility.

Now my friend is very wise, and she assured me that I would find a way.  She reminded me of the ‘me too’ movement and how so many women remained silent for so long, and it only led to the harm of more women.  I have always hoped and believed that if I had been of age during the civil rights era that I would have linked arms with other humans to stand for what is just and right, because the truth is… we are all one.  And so, I find myself arguing with the me that longs to feel a sense of peace within her soul, and the me that wants to rise up with the force of every mother with fearless hearts throughout history who would stand up like Molly Weasley and say, “NOT. MY. DAUGHTER. YOU. BITCH!”

So, I may continue to focus on the light that I can bring into the world and try really, really hard not to allow the venom and cuss words that keep rising to tongue’s-tip to escape in a way that is damaging to my veneer of sweetness and light.  However, let it be known that what is happening in this country, be it bigotry, misogyny, racism, violence and discrimination against LGBTQ, or Muslims, or Immigrants, or Blacks, or Hispanics, or Jews, or ANYONE having a say about what I choose to do or NOT do with MY uterus IS NOT OKAY!!!!  And I am putting the patriarchy on notice!  THE GODDESS IS RISING AND YOU HAD BEST NOT MESS WITH THE SACRED BEING WHO GAVE BIRTH TO YOUR GOD!

Also, I am breathing deeply of the love that still permeates this great land of ours.  I am reminded that we can often take the light for granted when we fail to honor the darkness.  And so I want you to know that I see you, darkness.  I see you and I honor your will of destruction.  For if there is one thing I have learned through the study of the divine feminine it is this…  we must destroy what is no longer serving us in order to create something fresh, beautiful, and new.  So, finally…  here’s to the new beginnings, dear ones.  May we all survive to see the dawn of a new day.  So mote it be.

downwardspiral

Stream of Consciousness on Carbs

Tonight I gave into a longing for crunch, which I’ve not entertained for nearly two months.  Already feeling some regret, I started plummeting into an old familiar place of despair.  Instead of sitting inside of my Aquarian mind while beating myself up, I decided to open a page in Word, and type.  I’m not sure if this is fiction or prediction, or if this message is for me or for you.  But since I am on a foreign path of openness and exploration, following my guides who tell me to write and then write some more… I’m putting this out here for the Universe to see, since I’m not really sure if anyone else is actually watching.  This is what happened when I opened a page, closed my eyes, and gave my fingers creative license…

There is a place of darkness into which one alone sometimes falls.  There is an overwhelming sense of solitude, as if no one in the world could possibly hear your voice crying out for acknowledgment.  I am here.  Can you see me?  Can you hear me?  Where the heck am I?  What is that squishing between my toes?  

When you’ve been alone this long, it is difficult to imagine what it might be like to find yourself unexpectedly bumping into someone who is suddenly walking beside you.  What was that?  Did I just do that thing where I can’t walk in a straight line, and so I accidentally bump shoulders with someone who is simply walking in the same direction?  Oh, sorry!  Let me get back over to my side of the walkway.  But then, you find yourself bumping shoulders again, and then someone reaches for your hand, only you don’t look up to see who is there, because you are simply in shock for the sensation of your hand being filled with the palm of another…  Such a foreign sensation.  But it is not that you have never felt another hand holding yours, it is that there has never been a hand that has purposefully reached before.  There has never been one with a soul as pure as your own who has seen your light and been drawn to it like a moth to a porch light.  And yet, you look down and there is a hand that has most definitely reached for yours and his fingers are gently but firmly holding onto yours.  But he is not guiding you or pulling you onto his path, nor is he forcing himself onto yours.  This soul, is quite simply choosing to join you in a slow progression of forward motion.  Witnessing your evolution, while attaining his own.  And though you were previously feeling alone in the darkness, you are now witness to a blinding light that drenches this pathway with illumination that fills every crevice of darkness.  There is nowhere for anything to hide that might feel threatening.  Everything is immersed in the light.  All falseness is exposed and only truth can remain.  In this new place, where two souls have met, there can be only complete openness and honesty, authentic realness between souls. 

Having left behind the darkness of uncertainty, outdated and overgrown false perceptions of the past, a new hope rises from the mud and murk that once squished beneath your feet.  Your days were never meant to be absent of touch, lacking in connection, vacant of affection.  All that you never knew you yearned for is right here on this path that you’ve chosen.  When you are ready to shake off the shock of disbelief, you should probably take a moment to look up to see just who it is you’ve bumped into.

My soul-daughter and I were just discussing how we can feel a sense of deepening connection with our gifts, our authenticity, and adjusting our own beliefs about our connectedness to life, the universe, and everything.  At 22, she is just at the beginning of her journey, and at 49, I am past the midpoint… I imagine how much glorious, authentic living she will get to do, having this awareness now, rather than decades later.  But then… I think the same for myself… grateful to be finding it now, rather than… well, you know.

(Chalice Well Garden / Summer 2010)

path

Sacred Ceremony

I was first introduced to sacred ceremony in 1992 at a workshop on feminine spirituality.  In my circle it is also referred to as ‘ritual’, but since those unfamiliar with the practice may have only heard the term followed with the word ‘sacrifice’, I prefer the above.  Sacred ceremonies you may be familiar with would be a child’s christening or a wedding.  If you consider how important these rites of passage are for the child / the couple, and their community, understand that there are many moments in all of our lives that deserve to be marked and celebrated… and that the act of doing so will make the milestone or accomplishment more sacred.  At times, there are obstacles to overcome, like a great loss, heartbreak, or regrets that get in the way of our own progress.  This is when I find the art of ceremony to be most rewarding, and deeply healing.

We lost a beloved member of our community to leukemia in November.  In December a conversation with her widow revealed that she wasn’t sleeping well, and that she was having trouble dealing with emotions of anger and bitterness toward an organization that had mistreated her beloved a few years before her death.  The betrayal our dear one suffered led her into a spiral of depression and a crisis of identity from which she never really recovered.  I assured my friend that her love left behind all of those worries with her body, and that she carried them no longer… which is what she surely would wish for those who survived her.  I offered suggestions for cutting off from that energy and asked her to let me know if she needed support in doing so.  At our next check-in she affirmed her desire for help in letting go.

So, we came together at the dark of moon.  Lakeside and surrounding a brilliant bowl of fire, we set an altar of our reverence with a photo of our beloved’s beautiful smiling face – radiant with sunshine, along with a few sacred symbols and her guitar, with which she had formerly serenaded us all at campfires past.  With the couple who had eagerly introduced our beloved to her wife a quarter century before, and another couple from their shared inner circle, this gathering was not a memorial for we had done that exceptionally well in the fall.  This was an intentional ceremony of release for those who remained to face life without the presence of a sacred soul held dear.

These were the words that stated our purpose and intention for this ceremony:
“We gather to reconnect this sacred circle, and to support one another in the process of letting go.  As we let go of that which does not belong to us, or that which no longer serves us… we are lighter and liberated for the work of mapping the path forward.  We honor the darkness, for it was surely illuminated by the light of love.  We have lost a great light in our lives for whom we grieve, but we find that while in the physical world there was rarely enough time to deeply connect… and now… beyond the confines of the body… we are able to commune with her spirit without interruption.  Lynn is no longer limited.  Our beloved is not gone from us, she is right here in this sacred space, and in our hearts.  Her smile is brighter than this flame, and her laughter and her song are lifted upon smoke and breeze.  The process of letting go allows us to pull her closer, as walls and barriers crumble and fall away.”

As I led our circle through a guided visualization, we journeyed into an ancient passage tomb where we would become aware of all that we carried from which we would now seek freedom and release.  As we emerged into the light and back to our circle, we each took the time to write down every thought and realization discovered.  We listed our regrets and our fears, our feelings of bitterness and sorrow, along with any words left unspoken to be carried to the expansive and ever present being of our beloved… no longer in human form.  When every last word was written, they were carried to the flames and set alight with our heart’s desire for transformation… each page burning into ash within a small stone basin, then carried to the water’s edge.  There, we symbolically cut cords attached to people who no longer would have ownership of our spiritual real estate, as we reached to the essence of water Herself… the Lady of the Lake… asking for Her mercy and Her love to receive our words, cleansed and purified by fire, to be blessed and consecrated then transformed and transmuted as dust became fluid.

We returned to fire circle, and we shared stories and sang songs… after all, this was one of her very favorite things… and then we concluded our work with these words:
“With open hearts and untethered spirits, we cast our nets forth into the wisdom of all that is, anticipating the limitless abundance the Universe delivers with grace and ease, for which we are eternally grateful.”  And so, we are.

I know that our ceremony was blessed with great love and that the one that we can no longer see with our eyes remains ever present.  She is in the garden with her love, she is at the fireside with dear friends, and she is sitting across from me as I write.  Her laughter rises on billows of incense, and the flickering candle is the twinkle in her eye.  It is not that we miss her any less than we did when the great void was opened that terrible day in Autumn, it is simply that we have chosen to carry her with us as we carry on.  We were so blessed.  We ARE so blessed!

(Psyche Weeping by Kinuko Y. Craft)

psycheweepingkycraft

Learning to Listen

Trust has been a life-lesson for me.  It even says so in Dan Millman’s numerology book The Life You Were Born To Live, A Guide To Finding Your Life Purpose.  For those of us whose birth date adds up to seven (7), he writes of our purpose being ‘Trust and Openness’.  The chapter opens with these words:  “Individuals working 7 as their life purpose are here to trust the light or spirit within them, in others, and in the process of their lives so that they feel safe enough to open up and share their inner beauty with the world.”  He writes (and I summarize) of the challenges we ‘sevens’ face in our personal evolution, as an early tendency to collect opinions from friends and family and to fill our libraries with books, as seeking guidance from the wisdom of others helps us to measure our own instinct against outside advice.  He writes that our primary fears are of being misunderstood and betrayed, and how our subconscious ultimately attracts those experiences.  He even uses Charlie Brown’s trust of Lucy to be true to her word ‘this time’ as an example… which explains why I cannot stand to sit through any holiday productions of the cartoon I thought I loved as a child.  In recent years I realized that I am no longer willing to be witness to Chuck’s choice to surround himself with so many people who simply did not deserve to sit within his light.

In truth, I have been betrayed… probably more than my fair share.  As a child, there was a neighborhood acquaintance, a friend of a friend, who stole the baby from my ‘Sunshine Family’ doll set, and I can recall being alone at the Saturday movies, and trusting two girls I didn’t even know to save my seat, leaving my bag of candy behind – returning to the story that some older kids came by and stole it.  In high school, a boy I had known practically since we were born and considered a close friend, orchestrated an all out attack on my home – toilet papering the yard, cookie-ing my parent’s windshields, and taping lesbian pornography on my bedroom window with slurs against me and my mother.  I was away that weekend, and my mother cleaned it all up without telling even my father.  She stayed quiet until the rumor had gotten to me, and I shared it with her – amazed at the silliness of it all… then, when I was on hold with that boy, she told me to just hang up… that the rumor was true.  At age 20, the boy I lived with who had won my heart chose to crush it when he came home from a college event with hickies on his neck.  I tried to find trust, but a few months later I moved him out – and frankly, never trusted men after that. Looking back, I realize it was in that same time frame that a childhood friend had stolen credit cards from my wallet, revealed when my mother called me to address the unauthorized use of her account, which I carried for emergencies.  The card was still in my purse, which revealed that someone had removed it and replaced it, after use… handwriting analysis of the receipts made identity simple to secure.

Analysis of these childhood wounds did offer me great wisdom, when I had gained the maturity to seek peace through forgiveness.  I realized that in each of these indiscretions, the offender was acting out of inauthenticity… they were pretending to be something they were not – a curse of the young or fearful.  It is much easier to release past hurts when we realize that the damage inflicted was never really about us – the recipient of harm, but about the one who acted out.  With this understanding, we may not be completely shielded from acts of betrayal, but we can definitely accept the circumstances, remove ourselves from the situation, and move forward with our lives, rather than dwelling in the pit of despair over what we must have done to deserve being lied to, stolen from, cheated on, etc.  Forgiveness does provide some level of inner peace.  In certain situations, the betrayal may feel too great to offer forgiveness, and if so, consider forgiving that it happened to you, until you can develop the possibility of compassion for someone who would act out in ways that seem to have such disregard for the respect and care of your soul.

I can see now how these life experiences kept me from trusting my own inner voice.  During one period of Mercury Retrograde a few years ago, I can remember coming to a huge aha moment.  I was talking to a friend about how I would never find true love, because I didn’t trust men… and suddenly it hit me like a bolt of lightning.  I realized that the truth of the matter was that more difficult than finding a man I could trust, was my ability to trust myself to choose well.  Talk about closing the subconscious doors of opportunity.  And so, I set forth on a path to rebuild that trust… in myself.

These days my practice includes paying attention to signs and synchronicities, so that if I cannot clearly hear my own intuitive voice, I can at least follow the direction in which the Universe might guide me.  An example would be the way that I found myself feeling this time last year, much the way I had felt 16 years before.  In my beloved workplace, I found myself feeling fearful, paranoid, depressed and distressed with the arrival of a new boss.  It was clear that she didn’t like me from the get-go, as I struggled to try to make her happy.  After multiple years with outstanding performance, I was suddenly declared completely unprofessional and inept. This sensation nearly left me fetal and unhinged, until…  my intuitive life coach asked me to reflect on when I might have felt this way before.  She indicated that for those of us who are empathic, we often receive information from our inner guidance through the way our bodies feel.  When I stopped to reflect on that sensation as something familiar, I realized that I had felt this way before.  In fact, it was the feeling that brought me to this place.  A very similar experience had unhinged me from my loyal seat in the company I was dedicated to for ten years.  Same scenario… new boss, lack of resonance despite beloved reputation throughout organization, deep dive of fear, self-loathing, depression and a sense of being hit by a bus, because the platform of love was suddenly gone and there was no one around to save me.  Fast forward sixteen years, and though I find myself reliving a nightmare of the past, I am suddenly thrust a life preserver… but not from someone else who had come to my rescue… it was my higher self!  She was right there, reaching her hand to me saying, “Okay… calm down and breathe.  Remember when this happened the last time?  Remember how you were frightened of what would happen to you?  Remember how you spent weeks drowning in self-doubt and fear of the unknown future?  Now, remember how it all turned out.  Remember that that moment of discomfort prepared you for something extraordinary.  Remember that you would never have left that place of mediocrity to find this place of wonder.  Remember how you were blessed to serve those who really needed you, and how greatly you were rewarded for providing your special brand of care.  Now, remember who you are.  Offer gratitude to those who would set you free from your own self-limiting beliefs, even if their methods were careless and unfortunate.  Forgive yourself for waiting so long to see the truth of your light.  Know that you are completely safe and protected.  Now, step out into the brightness of your being, and take all of the time you need to decide how you will choose to shine into the future.  Brilliance cannot be rushed, it must be cultivated.  Write it all down and then write some more.  Keep writing and speaking your truth until your truth becomes your path.  Then… when you are ready… you can stop following and start leading.”

As I near the one year anniversary of my liberation from that workplace, I find myself at the edge of a new path.  I still don’t know exactly where this path is headed, but I know one thing for sure… I trust myself to lead the way.

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WTF Menopause?

Since the day I got my period, when I was twelve years old and in the sixth grade, I have been counting the days until menopause would grace me with its presence.  I’ve waited 37 years for this, and now… you are failing me.  I have always held the strong belief that fertility should be a choice, something that if you really wanted the burden of childbearing, you would have to take a pill or flip a switch to endure.  I know this is not a popular belief, as there are actually some women who have gladly exchanged this inconvenience for the blessing of children, and others who would choose to bleed every day if only they COULD be so blessed.  But seriously, why should someone who never wanted children be forced to face month after month of discomfort, inconvenience, mess, and expense?  Nearly four decades later, and I am still rather miffed about this evolutionary slap in the face.

You’d think I would feel differently, having discovered the goddess path in my early twenties, but alas… no.  I would hear women talk about their ‘moon cycle’ or their ‘red tent’ moments, and try my best to adopt a positive view of what always felt like more of a curse.  “The curse has come upon me!, she cried… The Lady of Shalott” (makes me wonder what Tennyson knew about either bleeding or having children forced through a tiny hole in his gut)… now I think I’ll go lie down in the boat and wait to bleed out.  Sheesh!  I did find it funny to realize that in a certain faith, men and women were expected to give up something each year as a symbol of reverence and commitment to honor the sacrificial king, when women were literally giving up their life’s blood at the drop of a hat, or rather the drop of an egg.  Clearly, men should get to do a forced blood letting on a monthly basis in order to keep up with the species that is always giving more than their share.

Perhaps I would feel differently if the religious right felt the seed of man was as ‘holy’ as my own, and regulate and limit ‘his’ right to choose how he would spill his semen upon the earth.  But no… pregnancy by rape or by love, though unwanted is demanded to be carried as a stain upon a woman’s soul, while no burden or shame shall ever be placed upon the penis that put it there.  If you think I feel bitter and outraged, you are right!  I have been free from this bloody curse for an entire year… until the fall of midnight on the morning of June 11.  F you, menopause!  Now, the glorious countdown to freedom has to start all over again… and I hate math!

I guess I should be relieved that the gut wrenching pain I suffered several days back was not actually my body being empathetic to two friends having abdominal surgery that day, and that my nipples haven’t been aching because I’ve developed some kind of bilateral, fast moving breast cancer.  Shew… it’s not cancer, it’s just the f*ing curse of fertility, back to torment me… like Buffy being ripped out of heaven and brought back into the demon dimension of hell on earth.    Too soon?

Perhaps I would feel less bitter if I’d not lived most of my life feeling a sense of body betrayal and self-loathing.  With a diagnosis of poly cystic ovarian syndrome in my early twenties which blessed me with rapid weight gain and insulin resistance, I put on a hundred pounds in four years without ever consuming enough calories to put weight on the most sloth-like being.  Despite a hundred different programs, pills, and even surgery… my body never lets go of her claim on the fat cells she harvested through these lumpy ovaries.

Sigh… but alas… I have spent the last several years cultivating self-love.  I have worked hard to reprogram the negative voice that once lived inside my head, constantly reminding me that I am not good enough, that I am not thin enough, that I am not pretty enough, that I am not smart enough, that I am not working hard enough, that I am not sacrificing enough, that I am not worthy of being loved, that no man will love a fat woman, that I don’t deserve the happiness of others whose bodies never betrayed them, that never ending barrage of hateful, unkind, unloving language that would never roll off my tongue to harm another living soul… only mine.  That old voice has been silenced, finally.

So here’s how I shall interpret the swelling of my belly and the shedding of dark flesh from inside my womb.  I am transforming!  I am becoming something new.  I am leaving behind that which no longer serves me, and it is being scraped out from the inside… flushing away from this sacred vessel, cleansed by water and transmuted by Mother Earth, into something healed and refreshed.  In April, the shedding occurred on the outside, through an angry dermatitis, and now… the work is just being wrapped up, on my behalf.  Here you go, dear… let’s just be done with this bit of outdated flesh.  It can’t hurt you, if you just send it love!

Okay, then.  I’m marking my calendar, and unlike in my youth, when I prayed that my period would come… I’ll say a little prayer that the lining of my uterus and I will never have to meet again.  I shall commit it to holding.  Not holding the loathing and distaste of old, but of something much healthier.  Let her hold onto the light of my love, and the healing red of root and orange of sacral chakra energy, and from there… let her energy bring birth to creativity, with words that flow freely rather than blood, and new projects that bring enlightenment, empowerment, and prosperity for self and community.  I will take this life blood and pour it onto the earth as my prayer, as I did at the full moon in May of 2000 in dedication to Artemis, with a promise to “open up and let a piece of myself fall away”.  Okay, great lady.  I hear you.  I am allowing this last remaining bit of false belief and bitterness to fall away from my body, never to be entertained again.  I promise.

Beloved vessel of loving expression, I commit to you that all of my words shall come to you with love.  Body of the universe, I vow to hold sacred every curve and every curl.  Sacred being, I promise to love you, cherish you, hold you close, to always be honest and express my truth, and will never ask you to endure suffering from self or others, for you have done your time, and I am choosing to set you free.  With this freedom, I find a release of tension in my belly, and I am finally able to breathe, and perhaps to sleep.  The rage has passed, and we have earned a dark chocolate reward.  May peace be with me, and also with you.  Amen and Blessed be.

(The Lady of Shalott by John William Waterhouse – my favorite non-living artist)

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