Tag Archives: trust

Solstice 2016

So I’ve been thinking about things. This is all going to seem unrelated, but it is. At least in my head it is. I hope you’ll be able to follow it, too.

An old friend who is also a Rabbi called to check on me after seeing my posts. He called me in between flights to Israel where he goes every year, and he said something about a general malaise that’s been happening since the election. Amazing that….in 50 years I don’t remember it being like this. People have always been angry about results, resentful about them, but never fearful, depressed, never in such numbers. My therapist says she’s seen it, too.

But also, he said, “I give you permission to just relax. You seem to need that. You need to hear that it’s okay to just be where you are without a goal. And if you decide on a goal and you don’t complete it, it shouldn’t be a really big deal. So what? I mean, really….so what?”

A long time ago when I was still at Stratton Oakmont, I was meeting with an ex-boyfriend for dinner and talking to an elder male coworker about it. He was from some island or another, Jamaica maybe, or Haiti. As he was talking to me he kept saying I was meeting with my boyfriend. “Ex-boyfriend,” I would correct him, and he laughed and said, “Same thing.” It is NOT the same thing, I insisted, and he laughed and said, “Sure it is. You just blow on the coals a little bit.”

Also a long time ago, I was asked to write something about Inspiration for a Pagan newsletter. I thought about that for a long time because Inspiration is something that kind of happens in a vacuum. You cannot force inspiration, you cannot make it happen by concentrating on the topic at will. In fact, that usually gets in the way and triggers writer’s block. I wrote,

“Inspiration is what Dr. Frankenstein was looking for when he raised the monster into the sky. It was the pause before the lightning crash—no, it was the moment after the crash, before the creature moved. It strikes in moments of stillness, when we stare off into space because some stray thought has triggered some other stray thought…neurons and synapses fire randomly away…and suddenly we have to write or draw before we forget.

I have a secret for you. Inspiration is not the sudden moment of movement or thought that we think it is. It is a vacuum. It is a blank space, devoid of thought or energy. Because as we all know, Nature abhors a vacuum. And she rushes to fill it, with light, with music, with pictures, with laughter, with anger, with rage, with fear, with poetry, with love.”

I was in a room where two elders were planning a ritual. They were talking about what to do with a bunch of bad stuff when they got their hands on it, and one said, “We’ll put it in the candle.”

“Are you sure the candle is big enough?”
“It’s as big as the heart of the sun.”

I learned then that fire is, by nature, this primal kind of thing that has a spirit that connects directly to that energy…the all consuming light/heat/transformative energy that started the universe. It’s a complex thought that I keep absorbing every day…because every fire, EVERY FIRE, no matter how small, tealight or bonfire, knows what it means to be the heart of the sun. Every match contains that potential.

Part of the issue with aging, I’ve decided, at least for me, is that it feels like potential is lost. Every child is pure potential, there is no telling what they will be, how life will shape them. But adults like me are pretty well-shaped by now. After speaking to the Rabbi last night, I realized that’s not the same thing…that having a shape is not the same as not having potential. It’s having magnitude. It’s not necessarily having direction. There’s still so many pieces of potential there, in words in deeds. Not heading in any particular direction does not mean I have lost potential.

So going back to my old co-worker….I realized at that point that it was the first time I had heard an Elder speak in a form I could listen to, that I was listening to something borne from life experience, and that it was likely very accurate. If I were to blow on those coals, things would possibly be different.

So how does this all wrap up into Solstice for this year? I have always lived my life somewhat like an ember. This has been pointed out to me by my Elders, that I could blaze if I wanted to, but I tend to smother myself to not be seen. It is difficult, sometimes, to not be seen. Respect in the Pagan community is earned, you get it from being competent, accurate, inspirational, knowledgeable. You can call yourself a High Priestess, but if others will not do so there is nothing, NOTHING, that you can do about it. It’s a nice series of checks and balances, really. I am respected and loved, and that is lovely, and it’s kind of snuck up on me the way someone does when they cover your eyes and make you guess who they are.

I have practically smothered myself. I’m not sure why that is, but it’s been going on since April or May. I went to Shaman’s Quantum Universe (edit – now called Midwest Shaman’s Conference) with a very different head. I came out of it changed. I was surrounded by people who not just knew more than me, but who were REALLY more knowledgeable. It felt like light-years more knowledgeable. And it’s not like they treated me poorly…they were excellent to me, and patient and kind. And they were all these instances of potential, healers, herb practitioners, crystal workers, artists, various forms of shaman…it was an amazing place to be. I feel like I can never be at that level. I don’t know if it’s true, it may or may not be, but that is what I feel, because they have spent so much more time heading where they are heading, while I’ve only spent about 30 years, and out of that 30, probably only about 15 or even 10 have been serious momentum. It feels wasted, this life, sometimes. Like I had so much potential and I blew it, am still blowing it. It’s not true, of course, it cannot be true…as long as I’m breathing there is potential for change, evolution. But the feeling is hard to shake.

Maybe I need a cleansing from the Elders. Take that shit right off of me.

So Solstice is here, and I’m here in the dark, and there’s only the barest of embers left. I can’t nurture it…I’m not sure even what it eats nowadays…but for Gods’ sakes I can uncover the damn thing. Let it get some air.

I haven’t been woodburning, so I think I need to make more time for that. I haven’t spent time listening to music, or watching the things I love, (though I thank the Bouillianes, as always, for a replenishing and wonderful weekend doing just that), or just being still. Reading, maybe. I read a comic this week and a couple of short stories. That was relaxing.

I’m more isolated than I’ve ever been before. I have one friend I talk to every day on my commute. One (two really, husband and wife) that I try to see once a week, but sometimes that only works out to once a month. That’s pretty much it. I see people on facebook pretty regularly. I guess that’s a thing. It’s something. People, myself included, have lives, and that’s a good thing.

I need people less than I used to. I’m stronger in myself than I have ever been. Each decade of my life has been a different thing, and my 50’s are all about me…not about what I want, but about what I AM. The real darkness and light of it. The good stuff the bad stuff, my strengths, my weaknesses, all of that. It’s an opportunity to really own it and look at it. I don’t always like what I see. But I own it, and I accept it, and I love myself as I am. I don’t need approval as much as I need to. But I do miss contact.

So here’s where I’m at for Solstice, and what I wish for you:

I wish that you find your embers, wherever they are. If you don’t have the strength to blow on them, at least uncover them, let them get some air. Why would you hide that potential? In this time of darkness, we all need light, and your light is so specifically YOURS, no one else can see the world from your point of view. No one else has had your experiences, lived your life, so your voice is needed to help explain the world. If you see injustice, no one else will see it through your lens. If you see joy, no one else will catch the nuances of it that your eye will catch. If you do not speak, we lose your vision, and all of us are required to have a unified voice.

Blow on the coals a little bit. Nurture it with Silence. Every single flame in the world started as a spark somewhere…every bonfire, every raging inferno, even the lava at the center of the earth, all of it started somewhere as something very small. You too.

There was a time when you were an infant, screaming, coming out of your mother, just a spark of possibility. You were determined to survive, thrive, get your needs met. There was screaming if you did not…you knew you were entitled to these things, and perhaps now you’ve forgotten. Perhaps it was beaten out of you, or neglected out of you. Perhaps you’ve had children of your own and you have subsumed your needs into theirs.

All fires start small. You are no exception. Remember who you are, and fan the flames. It is the Solstice, and it is time for the Coming of the Light.

Let there be YOUR light.

So mote it be.

Thou shalt not suffer thy people to tend thee in thy sickness ~Garou Litany~

Spider has been telling me that it’s time to write about The Hole.

It’s ridiculous, really. The weather has turned colder. There should really be spiders anymore. But they keep popping up…one so large, in fact, that I could see it at a stop sign on the passenger side of my car while I was driving. Not parking. Driving. SO big, SO clear…and then of course, the one in the house last night. And the dreams. She’s insistent, that one. And it’s not the kind of thing you want to mess with, because Spider dreams…well…the more impatient she gets, the higher the pressure gets in the dreams, and they only go two ways….either there’s more and more spiders, or the spiders get bigger and bigger. Not fun either way. So here goes.

There’s this thing that happens when you grow up in a house like mine. Your primary caretakers are unreliable and untrustworthy. As a child, the thought that you are NOT SAFE in your own home is so frightening, you will do anything to not think about it. And here’s this living growing human missing the primary force of stability in their lives, and lack of stability becomes one of the building blocks of their nature. As they become older it can take lots of forms…probably most often it’s a control-thing, because if you control everything then you are least likely to have things fall apart. When control is left to other people bad things happen, you see. So it’s just safest when it’s you.

I still struggle with that piece, I think. I’m much better than I was. But I’m sure I do things that I don’t see that are reflections of this. There’s a different piece I’m working with right now.

The Hole is the part of me that NEEEEEEEDS. Everyone has needs. Needs are okay, and natural and human. But NEEEEEED….that should only be a periodic thing. I live with this thing every day. Every day it screams at me for reassurance, and I can mute it, but I can’t stop it completely. I can distract myself pretty well….there’s work (lots of work) and video games. But there’s quiet times, too, and things get all squicky sometimes.

I don’t talk to many people. Part of that is geographic isolation. Part of that is not really knowing what to say when you pick up the phone if you don’t have news of some kind. Part of that is fear that if I call, people won’t really want to talk. And of course, that may not even be true, they might just have lives and the need to get back to them, because my phone call came at an unexpected time, and I know those things, but if several of those, “oh, I’d love to talk to you but I really have to go,” things happens, well, The Hole gets triggered, and I just stop calling. I can believe it’s life if it doesn’t keep happening, but if I call and it happens again, I’ll just start to believe The Hole, and it’s easier not to tempt that. Just so much easier. So I call different people, and if it happens there, too, (and why shouldn’t it? People have lives) the voice from The Hole gets louder, and I just can’t deal with it. I can’t. It’s easier, safer, to just be alone.

I guess that’s kind of a control thing, too, isn’t it?

We started working on this in therapy a couple of weeks ago. Some of my friend dynamics are shifting around (through my choices, so that part is okay) and I just have to adjust.
The other piece of that is, exactly how much are these people responsible for my well-being? The answer is, THEY AREN’T. They SHOULDN’T be, not on a regular basis. That’s not healthy.  “Thou shalt not suffer thy people to tend thee in thy sickness,” is a part of the Garou litany that always spoke to me. I’ve always just tried to kind of weed my way through this on my own. It’s not about trusting other people, all the love in the world can’t fix it. It’s about The Hole. It’s about the need that screams at me from it. It’s about how I know that needing too much can be draining to other people. It’s about knowing that I can wear out other people that way. It’s about taking care of my own junk.

It affects so many things. It affects my relationships with everyone else’s parents. It doesn’t matter that I’m no longer a child, that I’m now a peer. It doesn’t matter that they don’t understand why I keep connecting and running away, and connecting and running away. It doesn’t even matter that this inconsistency probably contributes to them thinking that my friendship isn’t reliable. It’s the only thing I’ve been capable of doing thus far.

Spider says that other people have Holes, too. She says I need to put this out there, because that’s the next step (she didn’t say why). The shaman thing is a trip….you don’t get to ignore your own junk like other folks. Spirit says, “This is what you’re working on today. I didn’t ask you if you liked it or if you wanted to. I don’t really care about that piece. It’s what you need to evolve, so this is where we’re going. And stop whining about it, or I won’t talk to you at all.”

So in therapy, we have to talk about my parents wanting me dead, my dad trying to kill me, and that hurts SO HARD. I can’t explain how much it hurts. It’s huge huge volumes of noise and pain, and we have to talk about how that’s not my fault, it’s theirs, and that doesn’t change that THE WORLD IS NOT STABLE, and THE WORLD IS NOT SAFE, and THE PEOPLE WHO ARE SUPPOSED TO LOVE YOU MIGHT REALLY WANT YOU TO GO AWAY, because I know that, I have proof of it, and it’s so hard to not continue protecting myself from a thing that doesn’t even exist anymore. Because it’s how I was created….it’s the building blocks of my life, the primary foundations.

Gods help me. The trees are about to show me how beautiful it is to let dead things go. The first guy I loved was born on November 2nd. I was raped October 31st. I was married on October 27th. My mom died on November 2nd. It’s the season for extremes in emotion for me. It’s time to let dead things go.

These are not harvests. These are dead animals. The rotting smell covers up the scent of roses. I need to let them go. Bear with me. This Mowg is under reconstruction. It’s time to bulldoze the shit out of all this and build a new foundation. Enough is enough.

Thou shalt not suffer thy people to tend thee in thy sickness. Show me how beautiful it is to let dead things go.