My mind silent, my voice silent, I walked onto the crowded beach and headed towards the spit at the end of the protected bay. I saw none of the people there- fat babies rolling in the waves, people slathered in oils soaking up sun, eating sandwiches under umbrellas. Time existed in another place as I walked, one foot after the other, half in and half out of the tideline. There was a song in my heart and it was calling me to where the sand ended in the water, and that was the only thing that I knew.
Heedless of wind in my hair and sand on my feet... heedless of people, gulls, nothing except the ocean. She lay to the left of me, she lay before me. Still I walked.
I came to the place where the sand ended in a point. There was magic in this place, where two currents came together to cross one another in endless diamond patterns. It was shallow there, and went out for a long, long way- or so it seemed. I did not stop my pace when I hit the water, a thing possessed, a creature called. The sea, she was calling to me. The mother. The ocean. The song welled up in my heart and began to spill over into my entire body until I could not distinguish where I ended and the sea began. She was not cold, not to me; this northern sea. I walked. It felt like walking on water, these shallows; and mesmerized by the diamonds I was surprised when I finally reached the breakwater. Crests of foam washed over my thighs, and still I did not stop. The sea was calling me.
My long hair tangled over my back, whipped in the sun by the wind. A pressure was rising in my heart, in my body. Welling up in my belly, this feeling like intense love, like a fierce scream, like the pleasure of fear just before the roller coaster drops. I could not stop, I was compelled. Welling up like tears, welling up like orgasm. The sea rose in pace with this feeling, over my thighs, to the tender place my legs met. The shock of it did not register because she was claiming me. Had I tossed a look over my shoulder I would have seen that the magic of this place had taken me already; I was never seen by those that lay on the sand. I was but a tangle of wind and sand; a bit of seafoam on the breeze.
The water came up to my solar plexus and what was welling began to crest. If I could shake I would have been shaking then. The sea was taking my body but I did not yet understand; the deep emotion that came forth rose and rose and rose until it was as a scream in my throat. By then the water covered my heart and I suddenly realized there was no fear. I began to feel sensual touches about my feet and legs; fish? Seaweed? I did not look because I was compelled forward and my entire being was enraptured by the salt water about my body.
Then the feeling crested, and I made as if to scream or laugh or cry- a wave came then and claimed me, the rest of the way. The outcry was taken by the water. I was filled with it, as I began to laugh, ripples and tidal waves of joy and fear and the incredible sensation of an entire body orgasm (for that is the only word I can give it) washing over me. My hair floated about me. The sensation of pleasure was mingled immediately by waves of pain. True pain, pain down to the bone- I was compelled, yes, but now that I was under the water I was part of her, part of what was claiming me and I began to see what the song was. I curled into a ball in the water, reaching down to my legs, my feet with my hands, to soothe the pain, the pain... As I looked, I saw what was beginning. What I was compelled for. I was changing. Oh, the pain, the pleasure, I could not untangle them, exquisite it was. Oh! My legs bound together, despite my kicking. Scales. Fins. Not just fins, no. If I could cry I would have but tears in the ocean matter to no one. She had me, I was within. I closed my eyes and clutched my changing body and rode the pain as I finished. Hours, days, minutes, who can say?
Finally it subsided and I began to realize that the water felt as silk against my body. I opened my eyes and realized I could see with startling clarity. I was not lacking for breath; felt, on my neck, delicate silken gills. My hair streamed around me like a veil. My legs- no... no more. In their place was a beautiful, sinuous scaled tail, gold-orange scales and sinuous long fins that moved like long streamers in the water. I began to move and felt the power in these fins. I could move with incredible grace and such little effort, a dance as I could only dream of on land. Land... forgotten. Had I ever left this place? Was I born here, or made? I could no longer remember, moving in curlicues and spirals in the water, feeling the utter pleasure of my hair and fins moving about me, about the water. The deliciousness of just existing, of moving, of flowing through... life in complete ecstatic flowing sensuality, glowing in the dim green light, darting among the life I found everywhere I looked.
I began to hear the song, then. The song was not through with me. It seemed to float through the water, calling to me. I tested my strong tail, my fins, and found the ease with which I could move. I flowed along the coastline, sensing rocks before I could hear the water battering against them. I marveled at the colors, rippling as the sun went in and out of clouds, filtering through the surface of foam and wave, life flowing among life. Still the song called.
Out I went, and in. Towards rocks along an island, on the oceanward side away from the mainland. The song, the song... weaving in and out of giant kelp gardens, reflecting off rocks and even remains of ships I found. I began to understand, as I swam strong and sure towards it. Siren... sirens... siren song... I am... I am... I am.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Friday, January 06, 2012
Priestess of Aphrodite
I've been here before, I thought; in another lifetime. This all feels so familiar to me, part of my soul almost. I've done all this before. Many times in this life the moment comes, like a little electric shock, that tells me in sibilant tones... yesss... you know. You know this.
We lay silent on the floor, comfortable, all of us women, acolytes; in complete trust. Blindfolded so we wouldn't know what was coming next. Listening to the bare feet of the initiates and the rustle of their clothes as they moved about us, teaching us to trust our senses. What was this on the lips? Chocolate, lemon? Fur? Leather? Hot, cold? Giggles as the women were surprised and delighted; squeals as something unexpected occurred (oh, that WAS lemon!). Suddenly I was struck with the realization- I have been here before, listening to the initiates walk around me, only it was a temple then, yes, a sacred Temple of the Goddess.
The stage lights were on, and the music began. I wore flowing silks of red and peach about my hips, red velvet about my breasts, tassels and glitter shining like magic. A basket of roses on my head. I walked slowly, gently, deliberately in swaying grace onto the short stage. It seemed so impersonal, and here I was trying to begin the evening's performances with a blessing. I set the basket on the stage, and began to dance with the veil from about my hips. Suddenly the stage lights malfunctioned and cut out. I did not even break my stride, but leaped off the stage into the grass with my veil, dancing within the circle of tiki torches, feeling alive and natural in the fire light- yessss... this is where I am meant to dance. So close to the people watching, seated on blankets in the grass. At the end of the song I picked up the basket and threw petals to the people, watching the children squeal and try to catch them. I have been here before.
Catching someone's eye, and in doing so, turning up my inner fire so the other may feel it... watching that person respond, viscerally... yessss...
Standing naked and feeling the simple sensuality of my long hair caressing my back...
Feeling intense pleasure having a tattoo done on my back, feeling kundalini rise as the needle raked my lower spine...
Walking into a club feeling the Goddess thrumming in my heart, seducing the world with my walk and my dance, knowing that this is all in joy and in pleasure, and not at all for any mal intent. All acts of love and pleasure are my ritual.
Feeling the touch of the Goddess when I dance, feeling her come through me, touching those who watch, seeing their eyes shine to wit her lustrous being come through. We are all expressions of love. My heart glows, I claim this, claim this Priestesshood. It has been a year since I shook my wings free and I am soaring.
We lay silent on the floor, comfortable, all of us women, acolytes; in complete trust. Blindfolded so we wouldn't know what was coming next. Listening to the bare feet of the initiates and the rustle of their clothes as they moved about us, teaching us to trust our senses. What was this on the lips? Chocolate, lemon? Fur? Leather? Hot, cold? Giggles as the women were surprised and delighted; squeals as something unexpected occurred (oh, that WAS lemon!). Suddenly I was struck with the realization- I have been here before, listening to the initiates walk around me, only it was a temple then, yes, a sacred Temple of the Goddess.
The stage lights were on, and the music began. I wore flowing silks of red and peach about my hips, red velvet about my breasts, tassels and glitter shining like magic. A basket of roses on my head. I walked slowly, gently, deliberately in swaying grace onto the short stage. It seemed so impersonal, and here I was trying to begin the evening's performances with a blessing. I set the basket on the stage, and began to dance with the veil from about my hips. Suddenly the stage lights malfunctioned and cut out. I did not even break my stride, but leaped off the stage into the grass with my veil, dancing within the circle of tiki torches, feeling alive and natural in the fire light- yessss... this is where I am meant to dance. So close to the people watching, seated on blankets in the grass. At the end of the song I picked up the basket and threw petals to the people, watching the children squeal and try to catch them. I have been here before.
Catching someone's eye, and in doing so, turning up my inner fire so the other may feel it... watching that person respond, viscerally... yessss...
Standing naked and feeling the simple sensuality of my long hair caressing my back...
Feeling intense pleasure having a tattoo done on my back, feeling kundalini rise as the needle raked my lower spine...
Walking into a club feeling the Goddess thrumming in my heart, seducing the world with my walk and my dance, knowing that this is all in joy and in pleasure, and not at all for any mal intent. All acts of love and pleasure are my ritual.
Feeling the touch of the Goddess when I dance, feeling her come through me, touching those who watch, seeing their eyes shine to wit her lustrous being come through. We are all expressions of love. My heart glows, I claim this, claim this Priestesshood. It has been a year since I shook my wings free and I am soaring.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Wings of the Heart, wide open
I was fettered, and didn't know it. Silk cords that bound my wings to my body, they were beautiful and for a long time I did not protest. They didn't seem to bother me. My soul, she knew. The wise woman beneath, sitting in her cozy cave, she knew too. A series of events and words, and suddenly even the light touch of these cords became too much to bear. I began to understand the price I was paying for the safety and comfort of routine in a home life I was not meant for. Isolation for many long years because of choices I had made only allowed the cords to settle more firmly about my body, until I forgot I had wings, I forgot entirely I could fly.
The choice, once taken, showed me that when I chose to flex my wings the cords fell away like spiderwebs. There was no heavy struggle, no chafing of bonds tied too tightly. Merely push my wings out, and the cords were gone. I grew heady with freedom and leapt from the cliff! Away! Into the air, stretching my wings. The air beneath my breast, filling the space beneath. Oh exhilerating dawn! The sky fills my wings with joy! Ah, freedom!
But, what is this? What, where? Where am I going? I don't know how to fly! I can't do this! Where am I going? How could I possibly know? In fact, I don't know at all! And I look behind me at the cliff. Safety, how can I return there? I can be good, I can sit still, I can take these silken cords and live with them with love, I can do it, I can...
No, I cannot. I look at that safety and see it is no longer enough for me. The cords do not even fit anymore. My heart is beating in terror- did I make the wrong choice? Am I crazy to throw all this away? I don't even know where the sky is taking me. Or rather, where I am taking me through this great beautiful expanse. I am afraid. I am free, and I am in the air, but I am not flying yet because I don't know where to go. I don't know what I am becoming. All I know is that my heart is blindingly, terrifyingly open- so much light! So open that I ache! How can I drink it all in? I want what is coming. My soul knows. She knows that to fly is to live, and I want to live. I don't want to just exist, a shadow of myself, looking for wings by the light and shade on the wall. I want my wings under me, I want to know what it is to truly live, to feel the passion of my soul surging up through this open heart and into the sky. There is enough, there is more than enough, it wells up and through me and I want to be ready! I want to be free!
And so in doubt I turned to the wise woman within, in her sweet and cozy cave. I sit quietly and look within, and she is there, curled on her furs, knitting by her fire. She has happy crinkles by her eyes, and I know her. She is me, she is the Grandmother. She speaks quietly and it takes courage to listen and stay still enough to hear her.
"The choice you have made is the right one. You cannot stay where you are. The life you made here is not enough for you. You will die by degrees in unhappiness in it, and you know that. The one you are leaving behind, what he chooses is not for you to decide. You were the guide and the mirror, the doorway. Such great gifts you have given him, helping to see himself, his path, his own light. Do not fear being forgotten here, because your love was a turning point for him to greater love and greater bliss. You cannot stay and you know that. You need a greater, deeper spark to feel met and fulfilled, and he has not been this for you, and was not meant to be this for you. You found him when you were lonely and there, such amazing friendship blossomed in you both! However he cannot touch that deeper part of you, you must find it first yourself and find a way to open it. That is where your gifts lie, and your greater potential for love- of self, and of others. This is not your mate. If you never have one it is not something to despair of, find your passion first and let life unfold."
The quivering in my belly is still there, the beating of my heart- but less. More steady. I know what I need to do; to step onto the path and trust that what unfolds next is what I need in order to learn not just to fly, but to soar and live, fully.
The choice, once taken, showed me that when I chose to flex my wings the cords fell away like spiderwebs. There was no heavy struggle, no chafing of bonds tied too tightly. Merely push my wings out, and the cords were gone. I grew heady with freedom and leapt from the cliff! Away! Into the air, stretching my wings. The air beneath my breast, filling the space beneath. Oh exhilerating dawn! The sky fills my wings with joy! Ah, freedom!
But, what is this? What, where? Where am I going? I don't know how to fly! I can't do this! Where am I going? How could I possibly know? In fact, I don't know at all! And I look behind me at the cliff. Safety, how can I return there? I can be good, I can sit still, I can take these silken cords and live with them with love, I can do it, I can...
No, I cannot. I look at that safety and see it is no longer enough for me. The cords do not even fit anymore. My heart is beating in terror- did I make the wrong choice? Am I crazy to throw all this away? I don't even know where the sky is taking me. Or rather, where I am taking me through this great beautiful expanse. I am afraid. I am free, and I am in the air, but I am not flying yet because I don't know where to go. I don't know what I am becoming. All I know is that my heart is blindingly, terrifyingly open- so much light! So open that I ache! How can I drink it all in? I want what is coming. My soul knows. She knows that to fly is to live, and I want to live. I don't want to just exist, a shadow of myself, looking for wings by the light and shade on the wall. I want my wings under me, I want to know what it is to truly live, to feel the passion of my soul surging up through this open heart and into the sky. There is enough, there is more than enough, it wells up and through me and I want to be ready! I want to be free!
And so in doubt I turned to the wise woman within, in her sweet and cozy cave. I sit quietly and look within, and she is there, curled on her furs, knitting by her fire. She has happy crinkles by her eyes, and I know her. She is me, she is the Grandmother. She speaks quietly and it takes courage to listen and stay still enough to hear her.
"The choice you have made is the right one. You cannot stay where you are. The life you made here is not enough for you. You will die by degrees in unhappiness in it, and you know that. The one you are leaving behind, what he chooses is not for you to decide. You were the guide and the mirror, the doorway. Such great gifts you have given him, helping to see himself, his path, his own light. Do not fear being forgotten here, because your love was a turning point for him to greater love and greater bliss. You cannot stay and you know that. You need a greater, deeper spark to feel met and fulfilled, and he has not been this for you, and was not meant to be this for you. You found him when you were lonely and there, such amazing friendship blossomed in you both! However he cannot touch that deeper part of you, you must find it first yourself and find a way to open it. That is where your gifts lie, and your greater potential for love- of self, and of others. This is not your mate. If you never have one it is not something to despair of, find your passion first and let life unfold."
The quivering in my belly is still there, the beating of my heart- but less. More steady. I know what I need to do; to step onto the path and trust that what unfolds next is what I need in order to learn not just to fly, but to soar and live, fully.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Embracing Wind
Long, long ago a lover said to me:
"Loving you is like putting the wind in a box"
at the end of our torrid affair. That statement affected me deeply, with a sense of shame or disbelonging; if I couldn't figure out how to tame my wild windy heart, who would be able to love me? Would I, in my fickleness, be able to stand still long enough to allow it?
Many years later, I found myself coming full circle. This urging for freedom somehow, this need to spread my wings, to fly, let go, dance and soar and see where it takes me. This is in my blood. As another romance comes to an end- this one the most gentle, kind, loving and considerate breakup I have ever had the grace to experience- I looked into my lover's eyes as he began to articulate the same concept. I filled in for him:
"You mean, loving me is like trying to put the wind in a box."
"Yes! Exactly, and beautifully put!"
I had a momentary spasm of despair. Ah, still unloveable because I'm so much fire and air! Is that so?
Then, suddenly I was struck by a realization. Why is this something to be changed? Is it not a gift somehow, some way? No it does not fit the conventional notion of settling down, putting in roots, making babies and home life and so on. Perhaps I have been trying too hard to force myself into a role my soul does not want. I have fought and tried, cried and stretched and reached to the deepest parts of myself to find the way through so I could keep this love, learn to settle down and enjoy home life and that sort of domestic partnership.
My heart will not have it. The more I tried to force it, the more depressed I got. I felt flawed somehow, broken, because I could not come to a conclusion as to whether I felt I was capable of having babies; whether I was comfortable sacrificing so much of my creativity and time, my art and solitude which is required for such an undertaking.
What if I have been fighting what my soul IS, what my soul WANTS, all this time? Trying to learn to love in this way, learn to be loveable in this way. I am meant for other things. I like the freedom of wandering where I will, of deciding on a whim to change my entire afternoon on an adventure. I love being so close to community that I can touch them anytime, but have large amounts of sacred and romantic solitude that bring me bliss. Am I not a mother to many creative "children"? Are there not more to come? There are many ways to birth consciousness into the world. In our state of overpopulation, it is not necessary to birth love and peace in the way of more human beings. I can have a great impact on those already inhabiting this planet, in taking joy in the beautiful children of my friends.
I am not ruling children out. What has happened recently though gave me pause; my beautiful and wonderful partner, a man with an exquisitely open and generous heart, desires children in a clear and positive way. I cannot find that same clarity, as much as I love him and our connection. This issue of babies brings me great stress, sorrow and anguish. I still feel I have growing to do before they could be an option; at my age, that growing could very well outlast my reproductive years. And so I release him. My heart aches. It is a difficult decision, as I have never met anyone as suited to me as he. But I love him, and his happiness, and so I let him go. I wish for him that he finds a beautiful and wonderful partner who cannot imagine not having his babies with him, in cheerful messy chaos and noise. It is not for me.
I am doing what my ancestors could not, or did not- heal the rage and long abuse and sorrow in our line. So much pain handed down! The fear is- I heal this line, does it not need blood children to carry it on? I don't know, but I do know that each person who commits to healing further heals the planet, in enormous degrees. I want to see more children raised with non violence and compassion. I want to see more wanted babies, not those born by accident into stress, misgivings, or worse- violence and poverty.
I don't know what I am meant to do. It is more than just vet med and dancing, playing with my friends. I open my Self to whatever this is, so that I can find the peace that lies within knowing the true nature of the soul. Why is it I am so "flighty" and free? Why is it that on one hand, I can commit with an iron will, but desire freedom from shackles so much I cry with the pain of them? What freedom am I longing for? I want to know. I commit to knowing this.
"Loving you is like putting the wind in a box"
at the end of our torrid affair. That statement affected me deeply, with a sense of shame or disbelonging; if I couldn't figure out how to tame my wild windy heart, who would be able to love me? Would I, in my fickleness, be able to stand still long enough to allow it?
Many years later, I found myself coming full circle. This urging for freedom somehow, this need to spread my wings, to fly, let go, dance and soar and see where it takes me. This is in my blood. As another romance comes to an end- this one the most gentle, kind, loving and considerate breakup I have ever had the grace to experience- I looked into my lover's eyes as he began to articulate the same concept. I filled in for him:
"You mean, loving me is like trying to put the wind in a box."
"Yes! Exactly, and beautifully put!"
I had a momentary spasm of despair. Ah, still unloveable because I'm so much fire and air! Is that so?
Then, suddenly I was struck by a realization. Why is this something to be changed? Is it not a gift somehow, some way? No it does not fit the conventional notion of settling down, putting in roots, making babies and home life and so on. Perhaps I have been trying too hard to force myself into a role my soul does not want. I have fought and tried, cried and stretched and reached to the deepest parts of myself to find the way through so I could keep this love, learn to settle down and enjoy home life and that sort of domestic partnership.
My heart will not have it. The more I tried to force it, the more depressed I got. I felt flawed somehow, broken, because I could not come to a conclusion as to whether I felt I was capable of having babies; whether I was comfortable sacrificing so much of my creativity and time, my art and solitude which is required for such an undertaking.
What if I have been fighting what my soul IS, what my soul WANTS, all this time? Trying to learn to love in this way, learn to be loveable in this way. I am meant for other things. I like the freedom of wandering where I will, of deciding on a whim to change my entire afternoon on an adventure. I love being so close to community that I can touch them anytime, but have large amounts of sacred and romantic solitude that bring me bliss. Am I not a mother to many creative "children"? Are there not more to come? There are many ways to birth consciousness into the world. In our state of overpopulation, it is not necessary to birth love and peace in the way of more human beings. I can have a great impact on those already inhabiting this planet, in taking joy in the beautiful children of my friends.
I am not ruling children out. What has happened recently though gave me pause; my beautiful and wonderful partner, a man with an exquisitely open and generous heart, desires children in a clear and positive way. I cannot find that same clarity, as much as I love him and our connection. This issue of babies brings me great stress, sorrow and anguish. I still feel I have growing to do before they could be an option; at my age, that growing could very well outlast my reproductive years. And so I release him. My heart aches. It is a difficult decision, as I have never met anyone as suited to me as he. But I love him, and his happiness, and so I let him go. I wish for him that he finds a beautiful and wonderful partner who cannot imagine not having his babies with him, in cheerful messy chaos and noise. It is not for me.
I am doing what my ancestors could not, or did not- heal the rage and long abuse and sorrow in our line. So much pain handed down! The fear is- I heal this line, does it not need blood children to carry it on? I don't know, but I do know that each person who commits to healing further heals the planet, in enormous degrees. I want to see more children raised with non violence and compassion. I want to see more wanted babies, not those born by accident into stress, misgivings, or worse- violence and poverty.
I don't know what I am meant to do. It is more than just vet med and dancing, playing with my friends. I open my Self to whatever this is, so that I can find the peace that lies within knowing the true nature of the soul. Why is it I am so "flighty" and free? Why is it that on one hand, I can commit with an iron will, but desire freedom from shackles so much I cry with the pain of them? What freedom am I longing for? I want to know. I commit to knowing this.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Turtles
Although I have been hiking quite a lot this year- and thus in a perfect position to see lots of wildlife, as I certainly have- I have had encounters with turtles that have stood out. When I see an animal in a random encounter and it feels as if it has weight, I look up the symbolism in order to see if there is a message or meaning from (the universe? my subconscious? tribe consciousness?) that I need to hear.
I was driving in my vet truck when I saw a turtle in the middle of the road. Having worked in wildlife clinics, I have seen my fair share of smashed turtle shells; so I turned around, put on my hazards (holding up another car), hopped out. I gently picked the turtle up and unceremoniously dumped it into the swamp like ditch on the side of the road- safety.
I took the hand of my handfasted partner and led him into the woods, telling him I wanted to "show him something". We were both in need of some healing with each other- it's been a tough winter. When we got to the spot I had thought of, by the pond, an amazing thing happened; we both simultaneously saw the nearly empty turtle shell. "Wow! When did you discover this? Amazing!" he said- he is also a vet, an exotics vet, and loves turtles. I was stunned; we saved the shell, he cleaned it and it sits in a revered spot in our house.
While running yesterday, I saw another turtle in the middle of the path. The second one that has crossed my path (while alive, I guess). It was motoring along well until it heard or saw me coming; then it stopped, and withdrew into its shell. This is a busy path with dogs and bikes and joggers, so I stopped too and gently lifted the turtle the rest of the way where it was heading into the lush grass.
Turtles. Why turtles? I read a lot this morning about symbolism, meaning and so forth. Turtle is present in so many cultures, for so many reason. What is mostly universal is longevity, protection and associations with the moon due to the markings on the shell, numbering in 13 (moon months) and 28 (moon days). The turtle, in this respect, is feminine. What resonates with me, after all this reading and from the encounters, is a message telling me to slow down a little, remember my own natural rhythms (even when threatened!) Remember the divine and the feminine. Find wisdom in slowing down a little, and hardening up a bit.
I was driving in my vet truck when I saw a turtle in the middle of the road. Having worked in wildlife clinics, I have seen my fair share of smashed turtle shells; so I turned around, put on my hazards (holding up another car), hopped out. I gently picked the turtle up and unceremoniously dumped it into the swamp like ditch on the side of the road- safety.
I took the hand of my handfasted partner and led him into the woods, telling him I wanted to "show him something". We were both in need of some healing with each other- it's been a tough winter. When we got to the spot I had thought of, by the pond, an amazing thing happened; we both simultaneously saw the nearly empty turtle shell. "Wow! When did you discover this? Amazing!" he said- he is also a vet, an exotics vet, and loves turtles. I was stunned; we saved the shell, he cleaned it and it sits in a revered spot in our house.
While running yesterday, I saw another turtle in the middle of the path. The second one that has crossed my path (while alive, I guess). It was motoring along well until it heard or saw me coming; then it stopped, and withdrew into its shell. This is a busy path with dogs and bikes and joggers, so I stopped too and gently lifted the turtle the rest of the way where it was heading into the lush grass.
Turtles. Why turtles? I read a lot this morning about symbolism, meaning and so forth. Turtle is present in so many cultures, for so many reason. What is mostly universal is longevity, protection and associations with the moon due to the markings on the shell, numbering in 13 (moon months) and 28 (moon days). The turtle, in this respect, is feminine. What resonates with me, after all this reading and from the encounters, is a message telling me to slow down a little, remember my own natural rhythms (even when threatened!) Remember the divine and the feminine. Find wisdom in slowing down a little, and hardening up a bit.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Queen of the Magpies
This is a dream I had years ago, back in undergrad. It was in vivid color, so real... and I can still remember every detail, like it just happened.
***
I was sent back in time by my boss, a jewelry maker, to look at jewelry of the 70's for inspiration and ideas. Mostly, I was attracted to beaded work and there was some beautiful stuff happening then. I found myself walking on a busy street and went into a little hippie jewelry type shop, with things like big beaded headbands, beaded curtains, hair clips with beaded flowers... that sort of thing. It was wild. My eye drank in all the color, not to mention the people shopping around me. As I walked around a center island with buckets of beaded bracelets and things, just dangling my hand in them and feeling everything I could, I was stopped by a woman whispering words in my ear.
"I have something for you to see. You shouldn't miss this." She had very big hazel eyes and black hair, just past her shoulders and a little wild. I didn't know her, and had no idea who she was. "It's not far, just outside a ways."
So I followed her. We ended up walking on a path of flat slate stones through a field. We were walking towards one of the largest and most beautiful trees I had ever seen. There were steps carved into the tree, and the center was hollow, with a round doorway. The two halves of the door stood open. She stopped at the foot of the tree, smiled sort of enigmatically at me, and waved me on. I mounted the steps slowly, marveling at them. What an amazing thing this was! I felt privileged, hushed and awed- the air was heavy and quiet.
When I entered the hole, my eyes adjusted; there were windows also carved in, letting in small amounts of light. My joy turned to horror. The smell was terrible. A chicken coop? I did not understand. Everything inside was beautifully carved, and on either side of the door were two long hollowed out benches lined with straw. And yet... there were chickens in it, it was filthy and stank. Suddenly I noticed there weren't just chickens; there were some small, feeble black chicks being pushed out and pushed around. What were they? What was this? My feeling of horror grew, and suddenly was beginning to mix with another emotion- anger.
"How could they..."
This was interrupted by a low, deep laugh. I spun around to see who it was. Standing in shadow, half hidden, was a man with greying dark hair, and a greying goatee. His moustache was curious, thick and full and coming to points at either end. I did not like his laugh, it was cold and unfriendly; though I was still angry, I felt a sense of caution and even fear. I was still so confused! There was an intense feeling of anger and I could not place why I would feel anything at all about a chicken coop.
"You are too late."
What? What is this lunatic talking about? The sense of confusion grew, and I turned back again to look at one of the struggling chicks. I felt like a veil was being ripped from my mind. As if a strange haze of some kind had lingered there for... well, for years.
"Father." I said, because I started feeling memories I did not know I kept, flowing through my mind.
"You!" I turned again to the man, who had started his laugh when I spoke, and this time it was even worse. But before I could speak another word, the woman with the green eyes came back in the door, only now she was wearing a sleek outfit of black. I felt a sudden stab of recognition.
"I..." but she did not let me speak; suddenly she went down on one knee and presented me with the most wicked looking sword I had ever seen. It was shaped like the crescent moon just after she is new. The hilt was black, and the blade was not that bright metal you often see in swords, but a curious dark grey, and gleaming. The hilt and the first 1/3 of the blade were crusted with jewels, opalescent, but not necessarily white- they were as an opal would be were it black, with deep and bright colors captured within. The blade started out thick in its width but narrowed along the crescent to a razor sharp tip. And she was presenting it to me. The feelings I had since I walked up the steps intensified, and I reached down to take the sword hilt in my hands. As I took it, the woman glanced briefly up at me, a flash of hazel with amusement; quick as it came, it was gone. But I knew.
I took the sword. It knew my hand, and I it. Memory came surging back. I turned a pirouette with the blade held level in front of me, wicked curve out; as I spun I saw the man's smug face turning suddenly grave and fearful. When I stopped twirling, I had only a moment to recognize what had also occurred- as I spun, my clothing changed to lithe, supple black leather armour, black but with all the colors of the rainbow muted in it- just like an oil slick on tarmac. It was absolutely amazing, perfect; the sight of it jarred me all the way out of the veil I had on me all those years.
I looked up at the man now.
"You have defiled this place, this sacred place. This is our rookery! You have turned it into a chicken coop! I know that you have killed my father... and that makes me Queen of the Magpies! This is WAR!" I rushed at him with a loud banshee scream, and he fled. I let him go, knowing the work had just begun.
I turned then to look at the woman, recognizing her now. She was my handmaiden, my right hand in battle. I had not known her when I came in here, but I remembered everything now.
***
I was sent back in time by my boss, a jewelry maker, to look at jewelry of the 70's for inspiration and ideas. Mostly, I was attracted to beaded work and there was some beautiful stuff happening then. I found myself walking on a busy street and went into a little hippie jewelry type shop, with things like big beaded headbands, beaded curtains, hair clips with beaded flowers... that sort of thing. It was wild. My eye drank in all the color, not to mention the people shopping around me. As I walked around a center island with buckets of beaded bracelets and things, just dangling my hand in them and feeling everything I could, I was stopped by a woman whispering words in my ear.
"I have something for you to see. You shouldn't miss this." She had very big hazel eyes and black hair, just past her shoulders and a little wild. I didn't know her, and had no idea who she was. "It's not far, just outside a ways."
So I followed her. We ended up walking on a path of flat slate stones through a field. We were walking towards one of the largest and most beautiful trees I had ever seen. There were steps carved into the tree, and the center was hollow, with a round doorway. The two halves of the door stood open. She stopped at the foot of the tree, smiled sort of enigmatically at me, and waved me on. I mounted the steps slowly, marveling at them. What an amazing thing this was! I felt privileged, hushed and awed- the air was heavy and quiet.
When I entered the hole, my eyes adjusted; there were windows also carved in, letting in small amounts of light. My joy turned to horror. The smell was terrible. A chicken coop? I did not understand. Everything inside was beautifully carved, and on either side of the door were two long hollowed out benches lined with straw. And yet... there were chickens in it, it was filthy and stank. Suddenly I noticed there weren't just chickens; there were some small, feeble black chicks being pushed out and pushed around. What were they? What was this? My feeling of horror grew, and suddenly was beginning to mix with another emotion- anger.
"How could they..."
This was interrupted by a low, deep laugh. I spun around to see who it was. Standing in shadow, half hidden, was a man with greying dark hair, and a greying goatee. His moustache was curious, thick and full and coming to points at either end. I did not like his laugh, it was cold and unfriendly; though I was still angry, I felt a sense of caution and even fear. I was still so confused! There was an intense feeling of anger and I could not place why I would feel anything at all about a chicken coop.
"You are too late."
What? What is this lunatic talking about? The sense of confusion grew, and I turned back again to look at one of the struggling chicks. I felt like a veil was being ripped from my mind. As if a strange haze of some kind had lingered there for... well, for years.
"Father." I said, because I started feeling memories I did not know I kept, flowing through my mind.
"You!" I turned again to the man, who had started his laugh when I spoke, and this time it was even worse. But before I could speak another word, the woman with the green eyes came back in the door, only now she was wearing a sleek outfit of black. I felt a sudden stab of recognition.
"I..." but she did not let me speak; suddenly she went down on one knee and presented me with the most wicked looking sword I had ever seen. It was shaped like the crescent moon just after she is new. The hilt was black, and the blade was not that bright metal you often see in swords, but a curious dark grey, and gleaming. The hilt and the first 1/3 of the blade were crusted with jewels, opalescent, but not necessarily white- they were as an opal would be were it black, with deep and bright colors captured within. The blade started out thick in its width but narrowed along the crescent to a razor sharp tip. And she was presenting it to me. The feelings I had since I walked up the steps intensified, and I reached down to take the sword hilt in my hands. As I took it, the woman glanced briefly up at me, a flash of hazel with amusement; quick as it came, it was gone. But I knew.
I took the sword. It knew my hand, and I it. Memory came surging back. I turned a pirouette with the blade held level in front of me, wicked curve out; as I spun I saw the man's smug face turning suddenly grave and fearful. When I stopped twirling, I had only a moment to recognize what had also occurred- as I spun, my clothing changed to lithe, supple black leather armour, black but with all the colors of the rainbow muted in it- just like an oil slick on tarmac. It was absolutely amazing, perfect; the sight of it jarred me all the way out of the veil I had on me all those years.
I looked up at the man now.
"You have defiled this place, this sacred place. This is our rookery! You have turned it into a chicken coop! I know that you have killed my father... and that makes me Queen of the Magpies! This is WAR!" I rushed at him with a loud banshee scream, and he fled. I let him go, knowing the work had just begun.
I turned then to look at the woman, recognizing her now. She was my handmaiden, my right hand in battle. I had not known her when I came in here, but I remembered everything now.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
career vs life... soul searching
Am I ready to give up the thing I like doing in order to live more like I want to? All my life my dreams have been carried on galloping hooves, borne on strong backs and flowing manes across the landscapes of my mind. I focused hard on horses through school, letting the endless focus of small animal wash over me like rain, soaking up the tid bits of horse medicine when it came. I took this job here in the beautiful but socially desolate North East Ohio because they said I'd be doing mostly equine- which has turned out to be a lie. Thrown into small animal, a thing I feared and loathed, I persevered. Because I spend much of my time doing it I have, despite myself, become pretty good at it. But meanwhile my psyche is suffering. We have no friends here, nothing to do, no dancing, no music, nothing but our worthless jobs with bosses we can't stand to break the monotony. At each other's throats because we lack any perspective, we risk losing what we came here to preserve- our relationship. I followed him here because I didn't want to be without him, and this place is ruining what we have. Our solution is to fix it, get out, move somewhere with life and vitality, where there are people, music, things to do aside from eat and shop (which are the main events up here).
The problem I face is that there aren't horse jobs just anywhere. In fact most of the places where horses seem to be, people really aren't. Makes sense, really. If I could be somewhat close to life and fun and still do what I thrive on, that would be amazing.
Which comes to the crux of it- am I willing to give up being a horse vet in order to live somewhere I would enjoy more? I mean, life is for enjoying, not suffering. I want all of it- I want to do horse work, AND be in reach of my friends, AND be dancing, AND be near some goddamn culture! What am I willing to give up? I gave up friends for two years and I am at the end of my tether. I'm going crazy, I am not who I was. I can't do it any more. I gave up culture for two years (those who say Columbus has culture or stuff to do, haven't lived anywhere else) and I feel I am going mad. Carefully watered down Midwest crap disguised as "culture"... yogurt curd made digestable for the bible thumpin folks who can't stand the fact that there are other people who don't buy the nuclear family myth, the fact that this country isn't entirely christian or what have you, that there ARE in fact GAY people and they do have the right to life and happiness... not that I'm bitter, mind you.
I have had ENOUGH of the Midwest, thank you very much.
Anyway, what if I can't do horse work where I want to go? Am I willing to give it up? I fear that if I take a job all small animal, it will become difficult to get back into horses again. Use it or lose it. I am of course looking, I will be applying aggressively for a position to work with horses even part time. Hell, I'm "mixed animal" now, I know I can do it and do it well. Why not?
Thing is, it's not all bad to be small animal oriented. Those folks get to just go home at night, have more predictable hours and business and so on. Not a bad life, really. Still, I love the medicine with horses, handling them, meeting them, figuring them out. The challenges. It's all good, to me.
So I guess, yes. I can't live so far away from things that make me happy anymore. I hate this existance, there is much much more to me than just vet med. In order to stay who I like being, I need to do more of what makes me "me" and rejoin the living. If it means I sacrifice some of what I am doing, fine. It's not like I'm quitting being a vet (and it's all fun anyway). I just need to believe the right job will come, I will get to do what I want to do. Where I want to do it. That would be just great. Please please please just give me a key to happiness again and get me the hell out of here.
The problem I face is that there aren't horse jobs just anywhere. In fact most of the places where horses seem to be, people really aren't. Makes sense, really. If I could be somewhat close to life and fun and still do what I thrive on, that would be amazing.
Which comes to the crux of it- am I willing to give up being a horse vet in order to live somewhere I would enjoy more? I mean, life is for enjoying, not suffering. I want all of it- I want to do horse work, AND be in reach of my friends, AND be dancing, AND be near some goddamn culture! What am I willing to give up? I gave up friends for two years and I am at the end of my tether. I'm going crazy, I am not who I was. I can't do it any more. I gave up culture for two years (those who say Columbus has culture or stuff to do, haven't lived anywhere else) and I feel I am going mad. Carefully watered down Midwest crap disguised as "culture"... yogurt curd made digestable for the bible thumpin folks who can't stand the fact that there are other people who don't buy the nuclear family myth, the fact that this country isn't entirely christian or what have you, that there ARE in fact GAY people and they do have the right to life and happiness... not that I'm bitter, mind you.
I have had ENOUGH of the Midwest, thank you very much.
Anyway, what if I can't do horse work where I want to go? Am I willing to give it up? I fear that if I take a job all small animal, it will become difficult to get back into horses again. Use it or lose it. I am of course looking, I will be applying aggressively for a position to work with horses even part time. Hell, I'm "mixed animal" now, I know I can do it and do it well. Why not?
Thing is, it's not all bad to be small animal oriented. Those folks get to just go home at night, have more predictable hours and business and so on. Not a bad life, really. Still, I love the medicine with horses, handling them, meeting them, figuring them out. The challenges. It's all good, to me.
So I guess, yes. I can't live so far away from things that make me happy anymore. I hate this existance, there is much much more to me than just vet med. In order to stay who I like being, I need to do more of what makes me "me" and rejoin the living. If it means I sacrifice some of what I am doing, fine. It's not like I'm quitting being a vet (and it's all fun anyway). I just need to believe the right job will come, I will get to do what I want to do. Where I want to do it. That would be just great. Please please please just give me a key to happiness again and get me the hell out of here.
Monday, January 25, 2010
winter
I always feel this way. Maybe it's Seasonal Affective Disorder, or whatever they want to call it, but really it's the winter. The time when you must stay in, turn inward, examine what you've learned, hunker down to ride out the cold and think about what has come to pass. Our ancestors used this time to make things that would be necessary for the coming year- knitting or weaving, sewing, carving, blacksmithing, anything that you could do to keep your hands busy and be productive and useful. Still, you turn your thoughts in, and that can be hard.
It's snowing. I've waited for days for this, because snow makes winter worth it. I couldn't live somewhere that was cold and barren and yielded no snow. That is cruelty; that was Columbus. Cold, naked, bare and covered in ice. Ice! How horrible. Snow, though; thick, fluffy, pure white. It makes a special sussurus as it falls. That's hard to hear where there is so much population and cars, but if you get yourself out into the middle of a winter wood you can hear the snow fall. It makes me feel quiet, wonderous and connected to the magic of all things.
Still, despite snow, I get quiet and withdrawn in winter. I suppose it's natural, or it's S.A.D. as I've said before. It doesn't matter; what it means is that I bundle up, hunker down, and turn inward. This year I've taken to sitting quietly and knitting my heart out. That helped a little. My wonderful man took to reading aloud to me as miles of cloth wound out from my hands. That made things absolutely wonderful. Then we got me a beautiful Tiffany lamp with a full spectrum light and well! What do you know; I can see the projects so clearly and it does seem to truly help.
Winter makes me inward, and wistful. I know better than to long for spring, because that is a wasted effort. Spring will come as it always does, at around the same time. This year we are looking forward to crocus and daffodil bulbs we put in the garden out front. Still, it is wistfulness and loneliness- a thing made more bearable by the family of the man and critters I have around me. It is something I am, something I do- perhaps now that I am not in my 20s anymore I can learn to accept that this is what the dark and cold bring. Stop fighting against my nature so much and just do the things that bring me peacefulness and light; stop feeling I have a "problem" and just nurture what is needful in the winter months. So I like to be still and quiet. That is just how it is; give it tea, and light, and lots of yarn then, and let it be.
Sometimes I think about the skewed version of happiness that people long for in this country, fed to them by media in popular shows and films. Happiness in that regard is perfection, with broad smiles and ecstatic high energy life. Well, when I see that I know that this sort of output can't last forever, it's too exhausting. Then when it winds itself out people feel disillusioned and let down (perhaps this explains the high divorce rate?) Have people forgotten that happeness comes in many levels? That yes, the ecstacy of success or reunion or new love is incredibly elating, but that's not the only way? Happiness is not struggling to survive. It is having a full belly and feeling content. Just content. Being safe, warm, with your needs met, and good people around. That is also happiness: not wanting for anything.
Am I happy, then? Yes. I am happy. I am content, rather. Perfectly so. Would I care to improve upon it? Most definitely; I crave a variety in friendships, other activities I enjoy that I cannot do right now, and so forth. That would bring me more or different happiness, different levels. So wisely, sagely and gracefully I will accept that for what I have and where I am, I am pretty damn content. And happy.
It's snowing. I've waited for days for this, because snow makes winter worth it. I couldn't live somewhere that was cold and barren and yielded no snow. That is cruelty; that was Columbus. Cold, naked, bare and covered in ice. Ice! How horrible. Snow, though; thick, fluffy, pure white. It makes a special sussurus as it falls. That's hard to hear where there is so much population and cars, but if you get yourself out into the middle of a winter wood you can hear the snow fall. It makes me feel quiet, wonderous and connected to the magic of all things.
Still, despite snow, I get quiet and withdrawn in winter. I suppose it's natural, or it's S.A.D. as I've said before. It doesn't matter; what it means is that I bundle up, hunker down, and turn inward. This year I've taken to sitting quietly and knitting my heart out. That helped a little. My wonderful man took to reading aloud to me as miles of cloth wound out from my hands. That made things absolutely wonderful. Then we got me a beautiful Tiffany lamp with a full spectrum light and well! What do you know; I can see the projects so clearly and it does seem to truly help.
Winter makes me inward, and wistful. I know better than to long for spring, because that is a wasted effort. Spring will come as it always does, at around the same time. This year we are looking forward to crocus and daffodil bulbs we put in the garden out front. Still, it is wistfulness and loneliness- a thing made more bearable by the family of the man and critters I have around me. It is something I am, something I do- perhaps now that I am not in my 20s anymore I can learn to accept that this is what the dark and cold bring. Stop fighting against my nature so much and just do the things that bring me peacefulness and light; stop feeling I have a "problem" and just nurture what is needful in the winter months. So I like to be still and quiet. That is just how it is; give it tea, and light, and lots of yarn then, and let it be.
Sometimes I think about the skewed version of happiness that people long for in this country, fed to them by media in popular shows and films. Happiness in that regard is perfection, with broad smiles and ecstatic high energy life. Well, when I see that I know that this sort of output can't last forever, it's too exhausting. Then when it winds itself out people feel disillusioned and let down (perhaps this explains the high divorce rate?) Have people forgotten that happeness comes in many levels? That yes, the ecstacy of success or reunion or new love is incredibly elating, but that's not the only way? Happiness is not struggling to survive. It is having a full belly and feeling content. Just content. Being safe, warm, with your needs met, and good people around. That is also happiness: not wanting for anything.
Am I happy, then? Yes. I am happy. I am content, rather. Perfectly so. Would I care to improve upon it? Most definitely; I crave a variety in friendships, other activities I enjoy that I cannot do right now, and so forth. That would bring me more or different happiness, different levels. So wisely, sagely and gracefully I will accept that for what I have and where I am, I am pretty damn content. And happy.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
I can survive the lunatic...
She barges in while I'm examining patients and having Dr/Client conversations... because she thinks they're all her "friends". Regardless of the seriousness of what I'm trying to address.
She talks loudly about clients and doesn't seem to care if there are other people in the clinic that can hear.
Not only does she not scrub for surgeries, she wears long sleeve shirts and bracelets and I have on more than one occasion seen her drag these things into an open surgical site. She will also use the same pack on several (unrelated) animals.
She does not believe in pain management and thinks all animals are "drama queens" who wake up screaming. All our patients wake up screaming, shaking uncontrollably, smashing their heads against the cage. This would have gotten you a demerit from Anesthesia where I went to school. When asked if we can have better pain meds I am routinely turned down because she thinks people will abuse the meds (there are only 6 employees and a lock box!) and she also doesn't believe the animals need it.
She regularly steals my cases, despite the fact that I am paid on production. She is the one who pays me, the one who proposed the low, low salary to be supplemented with production. WTF? Often she will steal my surgeries and say carelessly, "well I'm faster, it'll just get done faster if I do it." Yeah, but it's MY surgery day! I lose money and production to my BOSS!
If something goes wrong and a client complains, she will not back her vets up. She'll just instantly cave and give the client a huge break on the bill or whatever they want. Without even talking to one of us first, to see what happened, or giving us the opportunity to make it right or talk to the client.
She flies off the handle and makes rash decisions, throws tantrums, breaks things (not just objects but relationships); she is vulgar and rude; she is often out of control. She will do things like show clients her surgery sites from her breast cancer/ implants, right in the office. We regularly lose clients because she somehow thinks this is ok.
Often she will call one employee to bitch about another. After she unloads, she says "there! I feel better, well, that's all." And leave you feeling that you've backstabbed someone, participated in gossip, without ever wanting to.
It's crap. I hate it. It's hard enough to be a vet without dealing with someone who is certifiably insane and untreated. Her business grew in spite of her, and this is how crazy people end up bosses and practice owners. Please Goddess save me from this insanity, please grant me safety and sanity in my next practice. Please please grant it soon. I want a good, secure, steady job with liveable hours and wage, a good client base with a sweet case load, an employer/ staff I can trust... is it so much to ask for? I just want to do my job. I just want to be a good veterinarian. Please save me from this madness.
She talks loudly about clients and doesn't seem to care if there are other people in the clinic that can hear.
Not only does she not scrub for surgeries, she wears long sleeve shirts and bracelets and I have on more than one occasion seen her drag these things into an open surgical site. She will also use the same pack on several (unrelated) animals.
She does not believe in pain management and thinks all animals are "drama queens" who wake up screaming. All our patients wake up screaming, shaking uncontrollably, smashing their heads against the cage. This would have gotten you a demerit from Anesthesia where I went to school. When asked if we can have better pain meds I am routinely turned down because she thinks people will abuse the meds (there are only 6 employees and a lock box!) and she also doesn't believe the animals need it.
She regularly steals my cases, despite the fact that I am paid on production. She is the one who pays me, the one who proposed the low, low salary to be supplemented with production. WTF? Often she will steal my surgeries and say carelessly, "well I'm faster, it'll just get done faster if I do it." Yeah, but it's MY surgery day! I lose money and production to my BOSS!
If something goes wrong and a client complains, she will not back her vets up. She'll just instantly cave and give the client a huge break on the bill or whatever they want. Without even talking to one of us first, to see what happened, or giving us the opportunity to make it right or talk to the client.
She flies off the handle and makes rash decisions, throws tantrums, breaks things (not just objects but relationships); she is vulgar and rude; she is often out of control. She will do things like show clients her surgery sites from her breast cancer/ implants, right in the office. We regularly lose clients because she somehow thinks this is ok.
Often she will call one employee to bitch about another. After she unloads, she says "there! I feel better, well, that's all." And leave you feeling that you've backstabbed someone, participated in gossip, without ever wanting to.
It's crap. I hate it. It's hard enough to be a vet without dealing with someone who is certifiably insane and untreated. Her business grew in spite of her, and this is how crazy people end up bosses and practice owners. Please Goddess save me from this insanity, please grant me safety and sanity in my next practice. Please please grant it soon. I want a good, secure, steady job with liveable hours and wage, a good client base with a sweet case load, an employer/ staff I can trust... is it so much to ask for? I just want to do my job. I just want to be a good veterinarian. Please save me from this madness.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Snakes and lunatics
Snakes, every night. Or I should say morning, for I wake up with these dreams wisping from my mind like so many seeping fogs. Complex situations wrapped in anxiety, with odd travels and social webs. And snakes. Every day for the last week there has been a snake in my dreams. I live with snakes, four of them; they are not a fearful thing for me, so I take it for what it is... snakes are full of ancient history and symbolism.
I looked it up. Transmution. Change. Creation. Shedding your skin, getting out of a rut, change, flexibility. Slither away... go with the flow... that's what snake tells you.
There you have it. It's wrapped up in anxiety because I am doing things in ways I know could be done better, and not living up to my potential. In work and in life. I know I could take excellent care of myself, but I find myself eating too much chocolate because of this reason and that... helpless and unable to stop... unwilling, perhaps, to change. It makes me grumpy, makes me fat, makes me unhappy in the end; but the stress of a job that (here's the kicker) ALSO does not let me do things the way I know they can be done better... not living up to my potential in the way I was trained... makes me so stressed that I seek what little pleasures I can. Mostly earthy, wine and chocolate and sleep.
So, snakes. Transmute. I have so much magic and potential and so much fear to use it and live up to it. It is so easy to get wrapped up in the stress and depression of what others are doing, what I'm not doing, that it becomes difficult to shine. People get angry and jealous when you shine; while you're shining it doesn't bother you, but boy when you slip a bit and they take you down it's easy to agree "yes, I suck!" because it makes people feel better when you aren't challenging the ruts they are in.
And lunatics. I don't mean movie- crazies, but people all around you that are so out of control in their own heads that they can't see straight. People who have no idea of the havoc they wreak on others with their crazy behavior; or maybe they just don't care. Most of the time you can let it go, until it puts a pressure on your own existance and you come up against it with the realization that there's no rationalizing with this person, no talking sense into, no conversation or action ever that can change this or bring some kind of relief. And when this person is part of your livelihood- an essential part in fact- it becomes very depressing very quickly. Sort of like those horrible Pavlovian experiments that show how one's spirit gives up; the one where he threw dogs into a pool with no way out and waited to see how long until they gave up and drowned? That one. I'm not drowning but I'm sure sick of irrational people having a measure of control over me. I hate it, hate it with all my being. Why and how do lunatics end up this far in life, with this much control over others? This one was by chance, and it's a rickety unstable ride which makes me unsure how far it will go.
So, transmute it. How? How!? I can change myself, I do and often, and with great pride when I stride for the better. As for the work, I will try in small ways to create what needs to be. But this! I can't transmute this. I can't change it. I can't even protect myself, mostly. I am at the fancy and whim of a lunatic, and I have to work especially hard not to slip slide into a depression rut filled with chocolate, self-loathing and bitterness. That is the work to be done, not easy, not pleasurable, and maybe not even possible. We shall see.
I looked it up. Transmution. Change. Creation. Shedding your skin, getting out of a rut, change, flexibility. Slither away... go with the flow... that's what snake tells you.
There you have it. It's wrapped up in anxiety because I am doing things in ways I know could be done better, and not living up to my potential. In work and in life. I know I could take excellent care of myself, but I find myself eating too much chocolate because of this reason and that... helpless and unable to stop... unwilling, perhaps, to change. It makes me grumpy, makes me fat, makes me unhappy in the end; but the stress of a job that (here's the kicker) ALSO does not let me do things the way I know they can be done better... not living up to my potential in the way I was trained... makes me so stressed that I seek what little pleasures I can. Mostly earthy, wine and chocolate and sleep.
So, snakes. Transmute. I have so much magic and potential and so much fear to use it and live up to it. It is so easy to get wrapped up in the stress and depression of what others are doing, what I'm not doing, that it becomes difficult to shine. People get angry and jealous when you shine; while you're shining it doesn't bother you, but boy when you slip a bit and they take you down it's easy to agree "yes, I suck!" because it makes people feel better when you aren't challenging the ruts they are in.
And lunatics. I don't mean movie- crazies, but people all around you that are so out of control in their own heads that they can't see straight. People who have no idea of the havoc they wreak on others with their crazy behavior; or maybe they just don't care. Most of the time you can let it go, until it puts a pressure on your own existance and you come up against it with the realization that there's no rationalizing with this person, no talking sense into, no conversation or action ever that can change this or bring some kind of relief. And when this person is part of your livelihood- an essential part in fact- it becomes very depressing very quickly. Sort of like those horrible Pavlovian experiments that show how one's spirit gives up; the one where he threw dogs into a pool with no way out and waited to see how long until they gave up and drowned? That one. I'm not drowning but I'm sure sick of irrational people having a measure of control over me. I hate it, hate it with all my being. Why and how do lunatics end up this far in life, with this much control over others? This one was by chance, and it's a rickety unstable ride which makes me unsure how far it will go.
So, transmute it. How? How!? I can change myself, I do and often, and with great pride when I stride for the better. As for the work, I will try in small ways to create what needs to be. But this! I can't transmute this. I can't change it. I can't even protect myself, mostly. I am at the fancy and whim of a lunatic, and I have to work especially hard not to slip slide into a depression rut filled with chocolate, self-loathing and bitterness. That is the work to be done, not easy, not pleasurable, and maybe not even possible. We shall see.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Watching the Wood wait for snow
The trees are all naked, except for the stubborn oaks who hold onto their oxblood leaves until nearly spring. There are a few saplings who mysteriously held onto now fading green leaves all this time, as if no one told them the natural progression of things.
Mostly, though, the Wood is all naked trunks and limbs, and you can see so much further in than even a month ago. Things lay open and revealed, like that cottage that you didn't notice sitting now in plain view, the veil of green removed and only tender branches holding the secrets summer left behind. This is the time to look at the trees, to really see them, to really pull in the twisted trunks, the amazing straight serenity rising so high into the sky. Though it's more challenging in winter to name them when they no longer wear their leaves, it is also easier to see the silhouettes they show, the amazing textures of bark, the patterns of branches and their way of rising up from the ground.
Everyone looks so naked without a mantle of snow! I am waiting for the snow, as they are; to soften hard edges, to cover the ground and make certain what is only tentative in this time of year- that yes, it is winter, or very nearly so. Snow I love, snow which somehow makes all warmer and more welcoming, makes winter easier to bear and easier to love. I, like the Wood, am waiting.
Mostly, though, the Wood is all naked trunks and limbs, and you can see so much further in than even a month ago. Things lay open and revealed, like that cottage that you didn't notice sitting now in plain view, the veil of green removed and only tender branches holding the secrets summer left behind. This is the time to look at the trees, to really see them, to really pull in the twisted trunks, the amazing straight serenity rising so high into the sky. Though it's more challenging in winter to name them when they no longer wear their leaves, it is also easier to see the silhouettes they show, the amazing textures of bark, the patterns of branches and their way of rising up from the ground.
Everyone looks so naked without a mantle of snow! I am waiting for the snow, as they are; to soften hard edges, to cover the ground and make certain what is only tentative in this time of year- that yes, it is winter, or very nearly so. Snow I love, snow which somehow makes all warmer and more welcoming, makes winter easier to bear and easier to love. I, like the Wood, am waiting.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Reiki
I doubted whether or not Reiki was real, true, or worked in any sense. Although the concept of magic always made sense to me- manipulation of energy, matter is made of energy, therefore manipulation of energy is manipulation of matter and vice versa- Reiki had me doubting.
Why? I don't know. Even though it's an art that is ancient, and practiced by many, what I was seeing was a lot of soft New Agey types touting the powers of this energetic healing and it made me feel cynical. I'm not your typical Neo Witch; I don't buy everything hook, line and sinker. I like to question and feel for myself what something can do.
When I did choose to become attuned to Reiki I, I did it on a whim, figuring- it can't hurt. It was free, at a festival, and there were 13 of us in a room, with an intense dude who is a Reiki Master, tattooist and uses both in Body Modification parties which apparently transform the hell out of any and all who participate. I still didn't really believe. We talked about energy, played with it, and then one by one sat in a chair and were attuned by the Master, at one end of the room. I made sure I was 7th in line (being my favorite number). All who sat before me came back buzzing, high, and wild looking. Each person who returned was full of energy and passed it along; playing with energy balls with others who had been attuned, or sending shivers and shocks through the rest of it.
It was my turn, finally. I was still figuring that I'd sit there and feel nothing. He started tracing symbols about my head and back, whispering things to himself, all part of the opening of channels. All of a sudden my teeth started chattering. I felt as if I'd been plugged into the wall socket. I had no control over the chattering of my jaw, and didn't bother to stop it. My whole body tensed and relaxed in cycles. It was absolutely bizarre. When he was done I felt energy flowing from my toes up through the top of my head and back down. I joined the group on the floor and felt the subtelty of energy currents flowing from one person to another. It was amazing, intense, and absolutely unbelievable- only, I finally did believe.
The concept of Reiki or the use of it is not new to me. I have apparently been using it since I was a pre teen, I just didn't have a word for it. In college I used to somehow be able to take away people's headaches, by concentrating and imagining a flow of liquid light going through the person's body and pushing before it the "soot" of pain, right out the crown of the head. By the time I did this attunement, I'd been using Reiki reguarly for 15 years. I just had no idea.
This attunement opened me up wide. We were told we would experience intense changes, emotionally and otherwise, and healing of ourselves. He was indeed right. My life went topsy-turvy (this also coincided with my Saturn return, but intensified it.) All was absolute chaos for a while. It was exhilerating, and absolutely what I needed.
Some time later, a friend came to a party quite upset. She and her boyfriend had a harrowing experience with some cops, who were being excessive with them over speeding or some such inoffensive offense. She was extremely shaken and unable to relax and enjoy the party. I took her to a corner and helped her ground, with a grounding exercise I learned many years before. My whole body heated up as I lead her through the grounding, with my hands on her knees as we sat cross legged in front of each other on the floor. When it was through she was crying, and asked how long I'd been a Master. I told her I was only Level I and she did not believe me, being a Master herself (I did not know that at the time.) She then brought me up to Level II a short time after that, saying that I already had an intensity of energy and it would be safer to have the channels properly aligned to cut out some of the chaos I was experiencing.
Reiki II brings further changes, of heart and emotion. That was indeed true. So many changes, yet again! Yet I did not feel it had opened the channels all the way. A couple of years later, another friend and Master offered to re-do my Level II while we were staying in an amazing forest in Georgia. At the time I was recovering from the brutal veterinary training I went through for 4 years, and felt an emotional train wreck. I agreed.
In a beautiful ritual involving a labyrinth with an amazing old tree in the middle, I had myself attuned to Reiki II once more. This time it once again felt right, and real. Not the same intense buzzing as the first opening, but more of a feeling of being washed in a warm river. For the rest of the day everything was more intense yet more detached- colors, sounds and smells. I felt languid and right.
Since then, when I do perform Reiki it is a lot easier, and my hands and body heat up intensely. More than once I have been asked how long I've been a Master. Eventually I shall open all the way to Master Level. The odd thing is that the symbols one uses have eluded me. I cannot seem to remember them. It doesn't seem to matter at all. Some interesting things have happened which lead me to wonder if I am already open all the way.
My partner had too much to drink the night before. He woke up feeling as if an elephant had sat on his head, and felt like his whole body was poisoned. I offered to perform Reiki on him to see if it would soothe him. He agreed, and I began; my hands got fiery hot (this does not happen every time) as I placed them on his belly. After 5 minutes, he leaped up and ran to the bathroom to throw up. This made him feel pretty terrible for a time; after that, however, he felt amazing. He went on with his day as if nothing had happened.
I work with animals every day. Reiki comes even when I do not call it. Animals seek it out, ask for it, in subtle ways I'm not always keyed into. I allow it when I know about it, and offer it to those severely infirm, scared, or prior (and during) euthanasia. I find it smooths the way for those who are dying. Horses especially are Reiki sponges.
Is Reiki real or not? Well, my experiences seem to say yes. Ask me in person and you'll see.
Why? I don't know. Even though it's an art that is ancient, and practiced by many, what I was seeing was a lot of soft New Agey types touting the powers of this energetic healing and it made me feel cynical. I'm not your typical Neo Witch; I don't buy everything hook, line and sinker. I like to question and feel for myself what something can do.
When I did choose to become attuned to Reiki I, I did it on a whim, figuring- it can't hurt. It was free, at a festival, and there were 13 of us in a room, with an intense dude who is a Reiki Master, tattooist and uses both in Body Modification parties which apparently transform the hell out of any and all who participate. I still didn't really believe. We talked about energy, played with it, and then one by one sat in a chair and were attuned by the Master, at one end of the room. I made sure I was 7th in line (being my favorite number). All who sat before me came back buzzing, high, and wild looking. Each person who returned was full of energy and passed it along; playing with energy balls with others who had been attuned, or sending shivers and shocks through the rest of it.
It was my turn, finally. I was still figuring that I'd sit there and feel nothing. He started tracing symbols about my head and back, whispering things to himself, all part of the opening of channels. All of a sudden my teeth started chattering. I felt as if I'd been plugged into the wall socket. I had no control over the chattering of my jaw, and didn't bother to stop it. My whole body tensed and relaxed in cycles. It was absolutely bizarre. When he was done I felt energy flowing from my toes up through the top of my head and back down. I joined the group on the floor and felt the subtelty of energy currents flowing from one person to another. It was amazing, intense, and absolutely unbelievable- only, I finally did believe.
The concept of Reiki or the use of it is not new to me. I have apparently been using it since I was a pre teen, I just didn't have a word for it. In college I used to somehow be able to take away people's headaches, by concentrating and imagining a flow of liquid light going through the person's body and pushing before it the "soot" of pain, right out the crown of the head. By the time I did this attunement, I'd been using Reiki reguarly for 15 years. I just had no idea.
This attunement opened me up wide. We were told we would experience intense changes, emotionally and otherwise, and healing of ourselves. He was indeed right. My life went topsy-turvy (this also coincided with my Saturn return, but intensified it.) All was absolute chaos for a while. It was exhilerating, and absolutely what I needed.
Some time later, a friend came to a party quite upset. She and her boyfriend had a harrowing experience with some cops, who were being excessive with them over speeding or some such inoffensive offense. She was extremely shaken and unable to relax and enjoy the party. I took her to a corner and helped her ground, with a grounding exercise I learned many years before. My whole body heated up as I lead her through the grounding, with my hands on her knees as we sat cross legged in front of each other on the floor. When it was through she was crying, and asked how long I'd been a Master. I told her I was only Level I and she did not believe me, being a Master herself (I did not know that at the time.) She then brought me up to Level II a short time after that, saying that I already had an intensity of energy and it would be safer to have the channels properly aligned to cut out some of the chaos I was experiencing.
Reiki II brings further changes, of heart and emotion. That was indeed true. So many changes, yet again! Yet I did not feel it had opened the channels all the way. A couple of years later, another friend and Master offered to re-do my Level II while we were staying in an amazing forest in Georgia. At the time I was recovering from the brutal veterinary training I went through for 4 years, and felt an emotional train wreck. I agreed.
In a beautiful ritual involving a labyrinth with an amazing old tree in the middle, I had myself attuned to Reiki II once more. This time it once again felt right, and real. Not the same intense buzzing as the first opening, but more of a feeling of being washed in a warm river. For the rest of the day everything was more intense yet more detached- colors, sounds and smells. I felt languid and right.
Since then, when I do perform Reiki it is a lot easier, and my hands and body heat up intensely. More than once I have been asked how long I've been a Master. Eventually I shall open all the way to Master Level. The odd thing is that the symbols one uses have eluded me. I cannot seem to remember them. It doesn't seem to matter at all. Some interesting things have happened which lead me to wonder if I am already open all the way.
My partner had too much to drink the night before. He woke up feeling as if an elephant had sat on his head, and felt like his whole body was poisoned. I offered to perform Reiki on him to see if it would soothe him. He agreed, and I began; my hands got fiery hot (this does not happen every time) as I placed them on his belly. After 5 minutes, he leaped up and ran to the bathroom to throw up. This made him feel pretty terrible for a time; after that, however, he felt amazing. He went on with his day as if nothing had happened.
I work with animals every day. Reiki comes even when I do not call it. Animals seek it out, ask for it, in subtle ways I'm not always keyed into. I allow it when I know about it, and offer it to those severely infirm, scared, or prior (and during) euthanasia. I find it smooths the way for those who are dying. Horses especially are Reiki sponges.
Is Reiki real or not? Well, my experiences seem to say yes. Ask me in person and you'll see.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Magic and the power of thought
Ever since I first studied about witchcraft, Wicca and the art of magic, I've known and understood the power of thought. I understand that not just witches study this but neuroscientists, buddhists, hypnotists, and lots of other people from as many cultures and countries as there are in the world. There are lots of tales of folks who got better by positive thinking; placebo effect; not to mention ESP and other "paranormal" activity or studies.
First hand though, now that's another story. It's downright weird, and although I've always known to "be careful what you wish for" or "the Rule of Three" in magic, having it reliably happen with even casual thought is a bit disconcerting. As you will... so mote it be. Ha! Well, coincidence may be random or it may not. I believe there was some book everyone was obsessed about 15 years ago that addressed coincidence as not random at all? Anyway, it just so happens that more often than not, when I think something it manifests. It can be downright annoying; like thinking of one of my clients or patients, and within that day or the next, they will need me for something (often an emergency!) It's gotten so that I try very very hard to NOT think of my clients or my patients, because I don't want to wish them ill. If I find myself thinking on them, I start sending positive Reiki just to cover them! Or how about knowing that putting my comfy sweats on at night will invariably lead me to getting called for an emergency? Every single time. So I sit in my work clothes until 10 pm just to be sure.
It can be greatly beneficial, such as when I decide I need an apartment or a car, and almost immediately things line up and work out. My friends say, "you have the most amazing good luck!" I say, good? Bad? If you read back far enough you will see I lost my home and pets to a very bad fire. Nothing happens small in my life, it all goes big. Real big.
Magic is energy. Reiki is energy. People, things, sounds, thoughts are all energy. It makes sense to me, then, that if all things are made of energy (atoms, particles, whatever) and magic is the manipulation or bending of energy in a certain direction or way, that it can greatly affect other beings made of energy. It's never been a hard concept for me to accept. Even as a doctor, I see and feel the benefits of Reiki as I work. The animals are energy, and exquisitely sensitive to boot; they get it, they like it, no problem.
Using magic to manifest something one needs is not only possible, but in fact so effective you need to be absolutely certain it's what you TRULY need or want, and that it will in fact HARM NONE as a result. At least this is my reality, as what I manifest does come about, and I have to be clear and concise.
One thing I never understood when I was younger is that magic and manifestation can take time. Yes, things can happen quickly. That can depend on need, too! Things can also take a looooong time. I started wishing for a partner, a good, loving, partner that was suited for me... careful wishing, there... in May of 2007, shortly after the fire; it took me until October of 2008 to meet him, and spring of 2009 to start dating him. I put a lot of heavy, specific PLUS vague magic into it, with a lot of care and a lot of patience... and it paid off. I simply was not ready until 2009. Turns out, neither was he, and it takes two to tango!
What do I mean by specific plus vague? How can one be clear and vague all at once? Well, I find that if you put too many specifics on the universe, it becomes a task impossible to fill. I clearly wanted a partner who was creative, kind, loves animals, loves easily without smothering, manly without being aggressive, oh and tall would be nice... that's specific. To keep it vague I said, but I mostly want the man who is best suited to ME. The one I can appreciate, adore, and admire. I skipped out on looks, nationality, even religion. None of that could matter! Several rituals and a couple of years, and here I am with a man I love to love.
Being vague in a specific way helps the universe to help you fill what you need. For example, you have to be specific on the things that matter, but vague on the things you can be flexible with. It leaves you room to grow, and adapt... you may change, yourself, between now and manifestation!
Knowing the power of thought and of magic means taking great care on the path your thoughts take. After all you can as easily manifest negative as you can good. In fact if you're a negative person, and put a lot of energy into your enemies and wrongs, hurts and cheats, you are bound to manifest more of these as the universe is merely providing you with the things you are sending attraction to. I try to be careful and when things happen I try to see silver linings in them, or think back on how I may have called a situation to me. You can fix patterns this way, and find new ways to think so as to avoid allowing that pathway to be clear, big and well trodden. Making peace in your mind is necessary for healing, and necessary to discontinue to call in the negative vibes.
What next? What to manifest next? Flexing the magic muscles is fun and helpful. Not in a greedy sort of way, but in a way that sort of lubes the gears... getting done what needs to be done, with a little energetic push. Hmmm! How about manifesting healing on that old horse with strange symptoms? Give that one a try, and see that he gets better over the weekend. Why not.
First hand though, now that's another story. It's downright weird, and although I've always known to "be careful what you wish for" or "the Rule of Three" in magic, having it reliably happen with even casual thought is a bit disconcerting. As you will... so mote it be. Ha! Well, coincidence may be random or it may not. I believe there was some book everyone was obsessed about 15 years ago that addressed coincidence as not random at all? Anyway, it just so happens that more often than not, when I think something it manifests. It can be downright annoying; like thinking of one of my clients or patients, and within that day or the next, they will need me for something (often an emergency!) It's gotten so that I try very very hard to NOT think of my clients or my patients, because I don't want to wish them ill. If I find myself thinking on them, I start sending positive Reiki just to cover them! Or how about knowing that putting my comfy sweats on at night will invariably lead me to getting called for an emergency? Every single time. So I sit in my work clothes until 10 pm just to be sure.
It can be greatly beneficial, such as when I decide I need an apartment or a car, and almost immediately things line up and work out. My friends say, "you have the most amazing good luck!" I say, good? Bad? If you read back far enough you will see I lost my home and pets to a very bad fire. Nothing happens small in my life, it all goes big. Real big.
Magic is energy. Reiki is energy. People, things, sounds, thoughts are all energy. It makes sense to me, then, that if all things are made of energy (atoms, particles, whatever) and magic is the manipulation or bending of energy in a certain direction or way, that it can greatly affect other beings made of energy. It's never been a hard concept for me to accept. Even as a doctor, I see and feel the benefits of Reiki as I work. The animals are energy, and exquisitely sensitive to boot; they get it, they like it, no problem.
Using magic to manifest something one needs is not only possible, but in fact so effective you need to be absolutely certain it's what you TRULY need or want, and that it will in fact HARM NONE as a result. At least this is my reality, as what I manifest does come about, and I have to be clear and concise.
One thing I never understood when I was younger is that magic and manifestation can take time. Yes, things can happen quickly. That can depend on need, too! Things can also take a looooong time. I started wishing for a partner, a good, loving, partner that was suited for me... careful wishing, there... in May of 2007, shortly after the fire; it took me until October of 2008 to meet him, and spring of 2009 to start dating him. I put a lot of heavy, specific PLUS vague magic into it, with a lot of care and a lot of patience... and it paid off. I simply was not ready until 2009. Turns out, neither was he, and it takes two to tango!
What do I mean by specific plus vague? How can one be clear and vague all at once? Well, I find that if you put too many specifics on the universe, it becomes a task impossible to fill. I clearly wanted a partner who was creative, kind, loves animals, loves easily without smothering, manly without being aggressive, oh and tall would be nice... that's specific. To keep it vague I said, but I mostly want the man who is best suited to ME. The one I can appreciate, adore, and admire. I skipped out on looks, nationality, even religion. None of that could matter! Several rituals and a couple of years, and here I am with a man I love to love.
Being vague in a specific way helps the universe to help you fill what you need. For example, you have to be specific on the things that matter, but vague on the things you can be flexible with. It leaves you room to grow, and adapt... you may change, yourself, between now and manifestation!
Knowing the power of thought and of magic means taking great care on the path your thoughts take. After all you can as easily manifest negative as you can good. In fact if you're a negative person, and put a lot of energy into your enemies and wrongs, hurts and cheats, you are bound to manifest more of these as the universe is merely providing you with the things you are sending attraction to. I try to be careful and when things happen I try to see silver linings in them, or think back on how I may have called a situation to me. You can fix patterns this way, and find new ways to think so as to avoid allowing that pathway to be clear, big and well trodden. Making peace in your mind is necessary for healing, and necessary to discontinue to call in the negative vibes.
What next? What to manifest next? Flexing the magic muscles is fun and helpful. Not in a greedy sort of way, but in a way that sort of lubes the gears... getting done what needs to be done, with a little energetic push. Hmmm! How about manifesting healing on that old horse with strange symptoms? Give that one a try, and see that he gets better over the weekend. Why not.
Monday, November 16, 2009
And thus, the end of Tribe Blog.
I have successfully transferred over all the blog posts I think are interesting or important. I really have grown, changed and transformed quite a lot since I starting blogging there! Amazing. I'm sad I cannot recover the photos from there, I wish I could. It's reason enough not to kill the profile on Tribe.
I think I will be writing down my experiences in here, now. I really enjoyed my Tribe blog, not just as a way to jot things down but also because I had the feedback of my friends. Oh well! It is for me more than anything, a way to get my forest stories down... and so I shall have them witnessed here, for me, by me.
I think I will be writing down my experiences in here, now. I really enjoyed my Tribe blog, not just as a way to jot things down but also because I had the feedback of my friends. Oh well! It is for me more than anything, a way to get my forest stories down... and so I shall have them witnessed here, for me, by me.
loving the unattainable
December 26, 2008
Ah, some of you out there will be able to fully relate to this... and the frustration it brings.
I have been learning so much of the heart and mind in my journey through love, with its myriad wants, needs and desires. Ever since I ended my last truly serious relationship in 2006, I fear I have not quite been the same. Something has gone a bit unbridled, wild... well, to be honest, I've fully come into my Self, my power and my beauty and frankly, it's made me quite undateable. I'm struggling to understand this, and I believe writing it out will help so bear with me (if you've chosen to read at all!) :-)
When I was younger I never believed I had beauty or any other seriously wonderful qualities, so I dated whomever seemed interested and was vaguely interesting themselves. That worked just fine; I actually dated some fine people, learned a lot- about assholes in the beginning, and about gentlemen as I began to "wake up". Through that time I learned what I like, what I don't like, and what I ultimately am seeking. While this was all going on, I sought to better myself- becoming highly educated, molding my body to my likeing, honing my wit and humor, and becoming the dancer and performer my heart cried out to be. This is the creation I have become... I have worked hard to become the graceful, funny, talented doctor I am now. I like what I have done. I'm proud of it.
And I can no longer accept "ordinary" as a match for myself. I have become especially multi-faceted and want nothing less from anyone I date. Why should I?
In my heart there is a man, pieced together from the wonderful qualities of all the men I have loved over the years- not just lovers but friends, as well. So many amazing qualities! And in my heart he is there, the Ideal Man, the absolutely unattainable man who likely does not exist. But why not? After all, I exist- smart, cute, talented, successful... why should there not be a match? And yet. Yet.
I'm torn between wanting this amazing man as a mate- the one I will settle with, and cherish; and wanting a little physical satisfaction in the here and now (I've got those needs to meet too... grrrr...) which doesn't need to be with an amazing guy. I just can't though. I have found I am really and truly no longer able to have a casual fling with anyone, because I want to be with someone of the caliber I present. I feel like a lot of guys just don't give a shit, don't put in the effort.
So here's the unattainable bit. (I bet you thought I was referring to the Ideal Man in my heart, didn't you? Yes, but there's more!) There are some pretty amazing guys out there, and I find them from time to time. When I do, they are always, for one reason or another, unattainable. Taken, married; gay; preoccupied; unwilling to date for some reason or another; living too far away; the list goes on and on. My heart has been smashed so many times these past few years for these reasons. It sucks, truly sucks. I know there's a pattern here, of course; isn't it "safe" to fall for a guy who will not even give you the time of day? Or who thinks you're good enough to roll around with but keeps the heart locked up tight?
The amazing thing is, the guys who I find to be of the quality and caliber I like, are always locked up tight somehow. Beautiful, creative, talented, smart, sensitive, energetic... and completely walled up. I would say there's a pattern except for the fact that I haven't met any that aren't in this way. The rest of the guys I've met that ARE available are ordinary, intimidated by me anyway, or so on.
The ones who have been available and seem to be amazing, have deal breakers... children, for one. That's a big one.
So.
If there is a pattern, which I'm sure there is (it's safer to fall for someone who won't fall for you, right?) I find it irritating and wish to get over it quick, so I can enjoy a satisfying connection as well. It would be so lovely! All this love to give, locked up tight and wasted on my cats. Fri,
Ah, some of you out there will be able to fully relate to this... and the frustration it brings.
I have been learning so much of the heart and mind in my journey through love, with its myriad wants, needs and desires. Ever since I ended my last truly serious relationship in 2006, I fear I have not quite been the same. Something has gone a bit unbridled, wild... well, to be honest, I've fully come into my Self, my power and my beauty and frankly, it's made me quite undateable. I'm struggling to understand this, and I believe writing it out will help so bear with me (if you've chosen to read at all!) :-)
When I was younger I never believed I had beauty or any other seriously wonderful qualities, so I dated whomever seemed interested and was vaguely interesting themselves. That worked just fine; I actually dated some fine people, learned a lot- about assholes in the beginning, and about gentlemen as I began to "wake up". Through that time I learned what I like, what I don't like, and what I ultimately am seeking. While this was all going on, I sought to better myself- becoming highly educated, molding my body to my likeing, honing my wit and humor, and becoming the dancer and performer my heart cried out to be. This is the creation I have become... I have worked hard to become the graceful, funny, talented doctor I am now. I like what I have done. I'm proud of it.
And I can no longer accept "ordinary" as a match for myself. I have become especially multi-faceted and want nothing less from anyone I date. Why should I?
In my heart there is a man, pieced together from the wonderful qualities of all the men I have loved over the years- not just lovers but friends, as well. So many amazing qualities! And in my heart he is there, the Ideal Man, the absolutely unattainable man who likely does not exist. But why not? After all, I exist- smart, cute, talented, successful... why should there not be a match? And yet. Yet.
I'm torn between wanting this amazing man as a mate- the one I will settle with, and cherish; and wanting a little physical satisfaction in the here and now (I've got those needs to meet too... grrrr...) which doesn't need to be with an amazing guy. I just can't though. I have found I am really and truly no longer able to have a casual fling with anyone, because I want to be with someone of the caliber I present. I feel like a lot of guys just don't give a shit, don't put in the effort.
So here's the unattainable bit. (I bet you thought I was referring to the Ideal Man in my heart, didn't you? Yes, but there's more!) There are some pretty amazing guys out there, and I find them from time to time. When I do, they are always, for one reason or another, unattainable. Taken, married; gay; preoccupied; unwilling to date for some reason or another; living too far away; the list goes on and on. My heart has been smashed so many times these past few years for these reasons. It sucks, truly sucks. I know there's a pattern here, of course; isn't it "safe" to fall for a guy who will not even give you the time of day? Or who thinks you're good enough to roll around with but keeps the heart locked up tight?
The amazing thing is, the guys who I find to be of the quality and caliber I like, are always locked up tight somehow. Beautiful, creative, talented, smart, sensitive, energetic... and completely walled up. I would say there's a pattern except for the fact that I haven't met any that aren't in this way. The rest of the guys I've met that ARE available are ordinary, intimidated by me anyway, or so on.
The ones who have been available and seem to be amazing, have deal breakers... children, for one. That's a big one.
So.
If there is a pattern, which I'm sure there is (it's safer to fall for someone who won't fall for you, right?) I find it irritating and wish to get over it quick, so I can enjoy a satisfying connection as well. It would be so lovely! All this love to give, locked up tight and wasted on my cats. Fri,
death of the deer
Fri, November 7, 2008
I never even saw him until he was already hitting the car. It's rutting season... he was likely headed out on a date... at 5:30 this morning. He never made it. I saw him as his shoulder hit the front passenger bumper of the car, and then he was hitting the side of the car and it was done.
I threw the car, very much damaged, in park and had the presence of mind to throw on the hazards. I jumped out and trotted in my gym shorts over to where he lay. Mostly I was worried that he had run off, injured, to die somewhere; but there he was, a beautiful, healthy until that moment young buck. He was a 3 point buck, just getting into his prime. I was crying before I even reached him, where he lay in agony. My heart was wrenching for him to see him lift his head every now and then, wanting to run from the pain and the death. I sad by his back on the pavement, crying, giving him Reiki, waiting for the cops a nice lady had called for me.
As I sat with him, heartbroken, I prayed to Epona and Cernunnos to take him home to the summer lands. What a waste of a beautiful animal. I talked to him and apologised, keeping Reiki hands on him gently until the officer came and ended the pain with a bullet. I felt so helpless... I am a veterinarian! I am in this business to help and to heal, not to kill with so much pain. So senseless. And I felt so helpless, knowing what I could do to end the pain and unable to as I had only my car, and a dull pocket knife in the glove box. Nothing worth using.
I tried to find out if I could at least use the meat, or donate it somehow. Use the hide and so on. There was no way to, with me unable to transport him. It is going to go to waste. And that to me is the saddest thing of all, to have taken a life and watch it wasted this way. I pray for him and for forgiveness for taking a life and not using it as it should be. I hate that the world works this way... he could have fed a family and his death would not have been in vain.
All I can do is shed tears for a life taken.
I am unhurt, but the car is likely totaled. Why not? It's already been a hard couple of years; I'm ruined, financially, between the fire, school loans and a job that doesn't pay me enough to make it to the end of each monthly paycheck. I know I will be ok, I always land on my feet as my friends point out... but I am stretched thin, and getting to where I may not be able to recover. This is a lot of stress that I didn't need. I am surrendering to the absurdity of it all, financial ruin to follow my dreams of being a healer. In the end, if I lose everything and can never pay for anything again, I will still be a healer and my body is sound... more than I can say for that poor young buck.
Blessed be, little brother, find the Summerlands and run free again.
I never even saw him until he was already hitting the car. It's rutting season... he was likely headed out on a date... at 5:30 this morning. He never made it. I saw him as his shoulder hit the front passenger bumper of the car, and then he was hitting the side of the car and it was done.
I threw the car, very much damaged, in park and had the presence of mind to throw on the hazards. I jumped out and trotted in my gym shorts over to where he lay. Mostly I was worried that he had run off, injured, to die somewhere; but there he was, a beautiful, healthy until that moment young buck. He was a 3 point buck, just getting into his prime. I was crying before I even reached him, where he lay in agony. My heart was wrenching for him to see him lift his head every now and then, wanting to run from the pain and the death. I sad by his back on the pavement, crying, giving him Reiki, waiting for the cops a nice lady had called for me.
As I sat with him, heartbroken, I prayed to Epona and Cernunnos to take him home to the summer lands. What a waste of a beautiful animal. I talked to him and apologised, keeping Reiki hands on him gently until the officer came and ended the pain with a bullet. I felt so helpless... I am a veterinarian! I am in this business to help and to heal, not to kill with so much pain. So senseless. And I felt so helpless, knowing what I could do to end the pain and unable to as I had only my car, and a dull pocket knife in the glove box. Nothing worth using.
I tried to find out if I could at least use the meat, or donate it somehow. Use the hide and so on. There was no way to, with me unable to transport him. It is going to go to waste. And that to me is the saddest thing of all, to have taken a life and watch it wasted this way. I pray for him and for forgiveness for taking a life and not using it as it should be. I hate that the world works this way... he could have fed a family and his death would not have been in vain.
All I can do is shed tears for a life taken.
I am unhurt, but the car is likely totaled. Why not? It's already been a hard couple of years; I'm ruined, financially, between the fire, school loans and a job that doesn't pay me enough to make it to the end of each monthly paycheck. I know I will be ok, I always land on my feet as my friends point out... but I am stretched thin, and getting to where I may not be able to recover. This is a lot of stress that I didn't need. I am surrendering to the absurdity of it all, financial ruin to follow my dreams of being a healer. In the end, if I lose everything and can never pay for anything again, I will still be a healer and my body is sound... more than I can say for that poor young buck.
Blessed be, little brother, find the Summerlands and run free again.
societal
Mon, October 20, 2008
I have been reading a series that Richard recommended these past few weeks- the "Dies the Fire" series by SM Stirling. It is about what would happen if in the space of a second we lost all our electricity and gadgets, all our higher physics in fact- no guns, no cars, no lights, no planes, phones, internet, nothing. Not even steam engines. No explosives. Rocketing human beings back to the bronze age, basically, without anyone being fit for truly surviving then. It's a grim thing, but eye opening... what would happen?
The things it makes me think about are how fragile our society really is, based as it is on the way we communicate, interact and commute. Hell, the *fact* that we commute is strange enough, really. What served to make life easier has only created a world where we are further and further apart, even when we live-literally- right on top of one another. I'd love to know some of my neighbors, to have a friend in this cold place, but everyone is immersed in their own lonely planet of schedules, work, tv shows and whatnot that it's easier to remain in your own shell rather than interact.
I've said this before and I still believe it; human beings are meant to be tribal. It's something we evolved to do and be, for so many reasons; safety, sharing of resources, raising of young, and so on. From a purely biological standpoint it makes sense. The way that things are now, though, we don't necessarily need to band together. Families are spread apart, people move around. The stress of working and needing money to function in this society means we spend long hours doing things we may or may not like, with people we may or may not like, and rarely see the families we try to provide for. It causes all sorts of rifts, odd behaviors and sociopaths...
Why is it that so many Americans are on mood altering drugs? Whether you talk about prescription drugs, like anti depressants, or ADD drugs, or self-medication like alcohol, food (sugar/ fat) and recreational drugs... it's all the same. It comes down to the same principle, the same reasons; we cannot cope in the way things are set up. It isn't natural, doesn't feel natural. This is not set up to make people feel relaxed and good, useful and healthy. We increasingly turn to outside things to make what we're doing OK, even if it isn't. What could be more alienating than coming home in your HumV to your solitary apartment, crack open a beer, order a pizza and watch TV until you fall asleep on the couch... only to get up, go to a 9 to 5 you hate, come home, do it again? Doesn't anyone else find this bizarre?
Anyway this series throws people back into the need to create clans, tribes, villages, and so on. They need each other to survive; they need each other's skills and knowledge, hands and minds. People are once again directly responsible for their own survival- the growing and acquiring of food, fighting to keep it (wish it wasn't that way), maintaining and building places to live and keep animals, and so on. Am I saying I'd love to be in the middle of all that hard work, which guarantees you die early? The lack of proper medicine? Not really... but the idea of a clan, a tribe, a village... that appeals to me. Maybe this is born out of the loneliness I've spoken of before, being stranded here in central Ohio with all my tribe far far away. I'd say that's the case except I've felt that way for a long time. Not that I don't appreciate my alone time, my solitude; I do. I just like having the people I admire, care about, and love close at hand. I enjoy seeing people I love, seeing them happy, looking at the things they've made and accomplished. It means a lot to me, since I'm so social. This isolation, this stark contrast to what we are meant to do is torture for me. A special kind of hell.
The other thing the series brings to light is that something not unlike that situation could very well happen. Perhaps not to that degree, not to that severity, but I can't see things continuing as they are. The ideas like Mad Max could certainly happen- ownership of resources like water, or the shortage of oil which will come to pass eventually. What will people do? People can all too easily collapse into violence and chaos, rather than the spirit of community... because of how things are now. Each for his own. What do I possibly owe my neighbor? Or anyone here? There is no feeling of allegiance, of any kind of kinship really. We live on the same soil, and there it ends. Odd. So, damn, odd.
I have been reading a series that Richard recommended these past few weeks- the "Dies the Fire" series by SM Stirling. It is about what would happen if in the space of a second we lost all our electricity and gadgets, all our higher physics in fact- no guns, no cars, no lights, no planes, phones, internet, nothing. Not even steam engines. No explosives. Rocketing human beings back to the bronze age, basically, without anyone being fit for truly surviving then. It's a grim thing, but eye opening... what would happen?
The things it makes me think about are how fragile our society really is, based as it is on the way we communicate, interact and commute. Hell, the *fact* that we commute is strange enough, really. What served to make life easier has only created a world where we are further and further apart, even when we live-literally- right on top of one another. I'd love to know some of my neighbors, to have a friend in this cold place, but everyone is immersed in their own lonely planet of schedules, work, tv shows and whatnot that it's easier to remain in your own shell rather than interact.
I've said this before and I still believe it; human beings are meant to be tribal. It's something we evolved to do and be, for so many reasons; safety, sharing of resources, raising of young, and so on. From a purely biological standpoint it makes sense. The way that things are now, though, we don't necessarily need to band together. Families are spread apart, people move around. The stress of working and needing money to function in this society means we spend long hours doing things we may or may not like, with people we may or may not like, and rarely see the families we try to provide for. It causes all sorts of rifts, odd behaviors and sociopaths...
Why is it that so many Americans are on mood altering drugs? Whether you talk about prescription drugs, like anti depressants, or ADD drugs, or self-medication like alcohol, food (sugar/ fat) and recreational drugs... it's all the same. It comes down to the same principle, the same reasons; we cannot cope in the way things are set up. It isn't natural, doesn't feel natural. This is not set up to make people feel relaxed and good, useful and healthy. We increasingly turn to outside things to make what we're doing OK, even if it isn't. What could be more alienating than coming home in your HumV to your solitary apartment, crack open a beer, order a pizza and watch TV until you fall asleep on the couch... only to get up, go to a 9 to 5 you hate, come home, do it again? Doesn't anyone else find this bizarre?
Anyway this series throws people back into the need to create clans, tribes, villages, and so on. They need each other to survive; they need each other's skills and knowledge, hands and minds. People are once again directly responsible for their own survival- the growing and acquiring of food, fighting to keep it (wish it wasn't that way), maintaining and building places to live and keep animals, and so on. Am I saying I'd love to be in the middle of all that hard work, which guarantees you die early? The lack of proper medicine? Not really... but the idea of a clan, a tribe, a village... that appeals to me. Maybe this is born out of the loneliness I've spoken of before, being stranded here in central Ohio with all my tribe far far away. I'd say that's the case except I've felt that way for a long time. Not that I don't appreciate my alone time, my solitude; I do. I just like having the people I admire, care about, and love close at hand. I enjoy seeing people I love, seeing them happy, looking at the things they've made and accomplished. It means a lot to me, since I'm so social. This isolation, this stark contrast to what we are meant to do is torture for me. A special kind of hell.
The other thing the series brings to light is that something not unlike that situation could very well happen. Perhaps not to that degree, not to that severity, but I can't see things continuing as they are. The ideas like Mad Max could certainly happen- ownership of resources like water, or the shortage of oil which will come to pass eventually. What will people do? People can all too easily collapse into violence and chaos, rather than the spirit of community... because of how things are now. Each for his own. What do I possibly owe my neighbor? Or anyone here? There is no feeling of allegiance, of any kind of kinship really. We live on the same soil, and there it ends. Odd. So, damn, odd.
flirting my way out
Sat, October 4, 2008
Well. If I am to be in exile, as it seems, with a long cold winter ahead, why not find a way to warm it? What better way to warm a chilly night than with a lover.
Yes, a lover.
Almost two years ago, I began wishing for love, real and deep and true. Although I have had some amazing experiences and frustrating situations since then, I am feeling like I need to put the whole idea on hold because I am not where I want to be (geographically speaking). I decided, then, to no longer entertain the idea of having just lovers (much to the chagrin of my favorite long standing lover, Richard...) but to wait patiently (or not so patiently, in my frustrated little heart) for the connection that would make my soul sing, my heart ring with joy. Well. That isn't going to happen here, in the flat and dry expanse that is Ohio. I do not feel called to settle here; I am here to learn, to hone my skills as a doctor to a fine point (or at least begin to) and then jump free of it to the warmth of California.
What then, of the winter? It has been hard enough to come home, day after day, to only kitties and my books, the internet and telephone. With only a simulated boyfriend for company when the darkness settles, and I wind my way down to sleep. Oh, believe me, I don't begrudge my synthetic boyfriends at all! I even have a new blown glass friend to keep me company... he's quite lovely, actually. It just isn't the same. I'm a sensual girl, and crave the warmth of flesh. It's in our blood to do so. Deprivation causes so many problems otherwise.
So... I will seek a lover. Casually, and without any serious hunting. Manifestation is usually key for me. I am relaxing the romantic ideas I harbor in my secret heart, to allow myself a dalliance that will at least let me find some comfort and laughter, pleasure and joy through the cold months, the months remaining here... in exile. After all, I *am* a witch. "all acts of love and pleasure are my rites". Indeed. I have never shied away from it until these past few years; and so I return to it, to better spend my time with laughter than with moping alone in my cute little apartment. Nothing heavy or cloying; nothing serious. Just fun, joy, pleasure. Safely, of course, I hear you my friends.
blessed be.
Well. If I am to be in exile, as it seems, with a long cold winter ahead, why not find a way to warm it? What better way to warm a chilly night than with a lover.
Yes, a lover.
Almost two years ago, I began wishing for love, real and deep and true. Although I have had some amazing experiences and frustrating situations since then, I am feeling like I need to put the whole idea on hold because I am not where I want to be (geographically speaking). I decided, then, to no longer entertain the idea of having just lovers (much to the chagrin of my favorite long standing lover, Richard...) but to wait patiently (or not so patiently, in my frustrated little heart) for the connection that would make my soul sing, my heart ring with joy. Well. That isn't going to happen here, in the flat and dry expanse that is Ohio. I do not feel called to settle here; I am here to learn, to hone my skills as a doctor to a fine point (or at least begin to) and then jump free of it to the warmth of California.
What then, of the winter? It has been hard enough to come home, day after day, to only kitties and my books, the internet and telephone. With only a simulated boyfriend for company when the darkness settles, and I wind my way down to sleep. Oh, believe me, I don't begrudge my synthetic boyfriends at all! I even have a new blown glass friend to keep me company... he's quite lovely, actually. It just isn't the same. I'm a sensual girl, and crave the warmth of flesh. It's in our blood to do so. Deprivation causes so many problems otherwise.
So... I will seek a lover. Casually, and without any serious hunting. Manifestation is usually key for me. I am relaxing the romantic ideas I harbor in my secret heart, to allow myself a dalliance that will at least let me find some comfort and laughter, pleasure and joy through the cold months, the months remaining here... in exile. After all, I *am* a witch. "all acts of love and pleasure are my rites". Indeed. I have never shied away from it until these past few years; and so I return to it, to better spend my time with laughter than with moping alone in my cute little apartment. Nothing heavy or cloying; nothing serious. Just fun, joy, pleasure. Safely, of course, I hear you my friends.
blessed be.
exile
Wed, October 1, 2008
Some nights, I have a clear recognition that being here feels an awful lot like being in Panama. The parallel is weird. There, I lived alone in a little house, surrounded by people who were very nice and liked me a lot, but didn't understand me even slightly. I don't mean the language barrier, either; oh, we got along just fine in our conversations. (Except a few hilarious and notable language errors on my part... *blush*). I worked hard, doing what I was set there to do, and did a good job. But I was so alien, in looks, concept, behavior and so on that there was just a gap that could never be bridged. I was tall, blonde and fair, rode a horse with the vigor of a man (women do not typically ride there; I had two horses), and extremely educated. I never flaunted any possessions and worked at living as close to their means as I could. The differences, though, they just could not be reconciled.
Whenever I could I would go to the city to meet up with other volunteers, so we could speak English and just have each other's company. I never really connected with anyone of them either. It was good to be with them, but it never truly eased the loneliness I felt- this was long before I met any of my tribe and learned who I truly am now. I just felt as if I were in suspended animation, exiled, waiting for some epiphany to guide me towards where I needed to be, who I needed to be.
Now, I live in my little apartment, surrounded by people who seem perfectly nice but want nothing to do with me (or each other). I work hard, doing what I have set out to do; doing what they require of me, and more, so that I can be the vet I want to be, without complaint. People at work are nice, but they don't get me at all. I am often the butt of some very good natured teasing, but it is teasing based on things that seemed so normal where I came from and are now so out of place that people can't help but comment on it. My relationships to people are, therefore, based on being a mentor or mentee, held at arm's length and considered 'strange but sweet'. No one wants to get too close. To be fair, I have no real desire to be close to anyone I work with; but my life consists of work, work, and hang out at my apartment.
What a parallel. What an odd and aching parallel. I was very mixed in Panama, psyched to be there doing what I was doing, living the dream. But I was melancholy all the time, lonely as hell and wishing for my tribe, for company, for a kindred soul. And now here I am, a woman wiser and older, finding the same melancholic pall hanging over my shoulders as I find myself once again alone in exile. Yes, I put myself here as I placed myself in Panama. I am here to do what I am doing, and I am glad for it. Still, after four years of vet school sacrifice and loneliness brought on by long hours buried under books, I have forgotten what it is like to have a friend who just pops by for a visit. Wow! That would be so amazing.
It feels bittersweet now, but the winter is coming. Winter is always hard for me. When there is snow and free time, friends and blankets and hot chocolate, I manage just fine. I cross country ski, relish in the snow on the trees as I whoosh through the woods... but there is none of that here, not aplenty as there was in MA. There is not as much snow here, I am told. Just grey, and cold. I worry. I need some good friends.
I'm quite grateful for the friends I *do* have. The bonds have not weakened with distance; I have been able to speak on the phone, and via email to many. It warms my heart. I appreciate every thought that comes my way; I spend time when I am driving long hours thinking of those I have left up north. The wonderful women I am only just getting to know, and sadly have left. Oh! I can't reconcile it, it's too hard. Damn! I think sometimes.
Well, I chose this. I chose to be here, and dedicate myself to this year of study and work. I can go anywhere in the world as of next July, and I am called to warmer weather. And kindred folk who understand me. I want to be where it is not so odd to be vegetarian, to eat spinach, to drink smoothies everyday, to dance with fire, bellydance and be a witch. To be me.
Some nights, I have a clear recognition that being here feels an awful lot like being in Panama. The parallel is weird. There, I lived alone in a little house, surrounded by people who were very nice and liked me a lot, but didn't understand me even slightly. I don't mean the language barrier, either; oh, we got along just fine in our conversations. (Except a few hilarious and notable language errors on my part... *blush*). I worked hard, doing what I was set there to do, and did a good job. But I was so alien, in looks, concept, behavior and so on that there was just a gap that could never be bridged. I was tall, blonde and fair, rode a horse with the vigor of a man (women do not typically ride there; I had two horses), and extremely educated. I never flaunted any possessions and worked at living as close to their means as I could. The differences, though, they just could not be reconciled.
Whenever I could I would go to the city to meet up with other volunteers, so we could speak English and just have each other's company. I never really connected with anyone of them either. It was good to be with them, but it never truly eased the loneliness I felt- this was long before I met any of my tribe and learned who I truly am now. I just felt as if I were in suspended animation, exiled, waiting for some epiphany to guide me towards where I needed to be, who I needed to be.
Now, I live in my little apartment, surrounded by people who seem perfectly nice but want nothing to do with me (or each other). I work hard, doing what I have set out to do; doing what they require of me, and more, so that I can be the vet I want to be, without complaint. People at work are nice, but they don't get me at all. I am often the butt of some very good natured teasing, but it is teasing based on things that seemed so normal where I came from and are now so out of place that people can't help but comment on it. My relationships to people are, therefore, based on being a mentor or mentee, held at arm's length and considered 'strange but sweet'. No one wants to get too close. To be fair, I have no real desire to be close to anyone I work with; but my life consists of work, work, and hang out at my apartment.
What a parallel. What an odd and aching parallel. I was very mixed in Panama, psyched to be there doing what I was doing, living the dream. But I was melancholy all the time, lonely as hell and wishing for my tribe, for company, for a kindred soul. And now here I am, a woman wiser and older, finding the same melancholic pall hanging over my shoulders as I find myself once again alone in exile. Yes, I put myself here as I placed myself in Panama. I am here to do what I am doing, and I am glad for it. Still, after four years of vet school sacrifice and loneliness brought on by long hours buried under books, I have forgotten what it is like to have a friend who just pops by for a visit. Wow! That would be so amazing.
It feels bittersweet now, but the winter is coming. Winter is always hard for me. When there is snow and free time, friends and blankets and hot chocolate, I manage just fine. I cross country ski, relish in the snow on the trees as I whoosh through the woods... but there is none of that here, not aplenty as there was in MA. There is not as much snow here, I am told. Just grey, and cold. I worry. I need some good friends.
I'm quite grateful for the friends I *do* have. The bonds have not weakened with distance; I have been able to speak on the phone, and via email to many. It warms my heart. I appreciate every thought that comes my way; I spend time when I am driving long hours thinking of those I have left up north. The wonderful women I am only just getting to know, and sadly have left. Oh! I can't reconcile it, it's too hard. Damn! I think sometimes.
Well, I chose this. I chose to be here, and dedicate myself to this year of study and work. I can go anywhere in the world as of next July, and I am called to warmer weather. And kindred folk who understand me. I want to be where it is not so odd to be vegetarian, to eat spinach, to drink smoothies everyday, to dance with fire, bellydance and be a witch. To be me.
missing the forest
Thu, September 11, 2008
It is dawn. The stars are out, not diluted at all by even a hint of the sun that is to come. The moon has long since set, hiding her face from me as absolutely as could be imagined. The air has acquired a chill in the last week or two... I feel this keenly as I walk briskly, warming up for my run.
Because, you see, I can't stop.
I began running as a way to connect with joy to the Wood I lived near in Massachusetts. It was an amazing way to weave the magic of that tiny plot of forest in and around my heart and soul. There were stories there, stories I coaxed out with every bounding stride, breath puffing in and out as I charged up and down tree lined hills, on paths softened by pine needles and loam. I felt free, alive and wild; my mind was loose and comfortable, sensing Stag Kings, wolves and imaginary steeds with every single run I had there.
Still I run. I run to keep my stamina, to keep my sanity in this sprawling confusion of urbanity thrust upon a rural people. There is no magic here, where I am able to run. In the early morning, before dawn even arrives, I run on the barren edges of the road, with only weeds to show the spirit of Mother Nature where she wishes to remain untamed. There is no Wood. No forest, no nurturing place of magic in the trees. Each day I run, I feel the burden of it as if it is forced upon me, another chore; this saddens me, that something so joyful could become this way in my heart. There are no stories when I run. Only me, and the dawn, and the cars- trying to survive long enough to make it home before the sun even stains the sky.
I did not realize quite how much that forest sustained my spirit until I no longer had it to run amok in. It may not have been very vast, or even very remote; but believe me, there was magic there- magic that spawned all the stories I have written here over the last few years. Here, things are not so. There are many planned 'communities'- sprawling villages of apartments and condos, rich looking homes lording over what was once farm or pasture land. The trees that there are, are planted according to someone's drawing. They stand stately and lovely in a very sterile way.
Luckily, there are the Metro Parks. I have discovered a few that boast some forest, forest that even retains a bit of wildness to it. However, it is not the same. I run there on weekends to remind myself of the wild joy I had when I began this habit- this habit of trail running... but there is still no room for stories and magic, as I compete for space among walking couples, other joggers, dogs and children who all seek to savor a bit of wildness that is so lacking here.
The only comfort I retain is that I may ride my pony when I am able. This brings me a great measure of peace. We have recently had to move, however; from a place that sported many wildflower fields to one of a place of rules, where horses may only be ridden in a proper ring, with one attired properly in a helmet and so forth. He is there, earning his keep as I could no longer afford to pay to keep him in the comforting chaos of where he was. While I do believe this will be good for him- think of it! LIttle girls riding him over jumps, which he loves, and even the prospect of seeing him go to some shows next spring! It is not nearly as magical for me, being bereft of fields of wildflowers to romp in, where I could once again capture strands of stories and keep it from feeling like work.
Ah, well. These are the sacrifices we make. These are the sacrifices I have made in order to become the doctor I imagine myself to be. I came here knowing it would not be nourishing for my spirit, but that it would bolster my confidence and make me an amazing veterinarian. I am learning so much I am fairly bursting with it. But! I am lonely... I miss my friends, my goddess sisters, my forest, and my boyfriend. I miss what I have not even had in the four years of vet school- that easy companionship and friendship where one can just drop by and hang out. Someday, someday! For now my life is one of on call every other day, lots of work and learning until I feel my head will pop. Challenges to my wit, my character, my knowledge and courage; I take it all in stride. Still. It is hard to do all this without the pleasure of fine company, without the lovely every day life that so many of my friends take for granted. One day! One day I too will have that back. For now, the kitties and I snuggle with wine, books and movies, and I find all the ways I can eat chocolate and remain healthy. Cheers.
It is dawn. The stars are out, not diluted at all by even a hint of the sun that is to come. The moon has long since set, hiding her face from me as absolutely as could be imagined. The air has acquired a chill in the last week or two... I feel this keenly as I walk briskly, warming up for my run.
Because, you see, I can't stop.
I began running as a way to connect with joy to the Wood I lived near in Massachusetts. It was an amazing way to weave the magic of that tiny plot of forest in and around my heart and soul. There were stories there, stories I coaxed out with every bounding stride, breath puffing in and out as I charged up and down tree lined hills, on paths softened by pine needles and loam. I felt free, alive and wild; my mind was loose and comfortable, sensing Stag Kings, wolves and imaginary steeds with every single run I had there.
Still I run. I run to keep my stamina, to keep my sanity in this sprawling confusion of urbanity thrust upon a rural people. There is no magic here, where I am able to run. In the early morning, before dawn even arrives, I run on the barren edges of the road, with only weeds to show the spirit of Mother Nature where she wishes to remain untamed. There is no Wood. No forest, no nurturing place of magic in the trees. Each day I run, I feel the burden of it as if it is forced upon me, another chore; this saddens me, that something so joyful could become this way in my heart. There are no stories when I run. Only me, and the dawn, and the cars- trying to survive long enough to make it home before the sun even stains the sky.
I did not realize quite how much that forest sustained my spirit until I no longer had it to run amok in. It may not have been very vast, or even very remote; but believe me, there was magic there- magic that spawned all the stories I have written here over the last few years. Here, things are not so. There are many planned 'communities'- sprawling villages of apartments and condos, rich looking homes lording over what was once farm or pasture land. The trees that there are, are planted according to someone's drawing. They stand stately and lovely in a very sterile way.
Luckily, there are the Metro Parks. I have discovered a few that boast some forest, forest that even retains a bit of wildness to it. However, it is not the same. I run there on weekends to remind myself of the wild joy I had when I began this habit- this habit of trail running... but there is still no room for stories and magic, as I compete for space among walking couples, other joggers, dogs and children who all seek to savor a bit of wildness that is so lacking here.
The only comfort I retain is that I may ride my pony when I am able. This brings me a great measure of peace. We have recently had to move, however; from a place that sported many wildflower fields to one of a place of rules, where horses may only be ridden in a proper ring, with one attired properly in a helmet and so forth. He is there, earning his keep as I could no longer afford to pay to keep him in the comforting chaos of where he was. While I do believe this will be good for him- think of it! LIttle girls riding him over jumps, which he loves, and even the prospect of seeing him go to some shows next spring! It is not nearly as magical for me, being bereft of fields of wildflowers to romp in, where I could once again capture strands of stories and keep it from feeling like work.
Ah, well. These are the sacrifices we make. These are the sacrifices I have made in order to become the doctor I imagine myself to be. I came here knowing it would not be nourishing for my spirit, but that it would bolster my confidence and make me an amazing veterinarian. I am learning so much I am fairly bursting with it. But! I am lonely... I miss my friends, my goddess sisters, my forest, and my boyfriend. I miss what I have not even had in the four years of vet school- that easy companionship and friendship where one can just drop by and hang out. Someday, someday! For now my life is one of on call every other day, lots of work and learning until I feel my head will pop. Challenges to my wit, my character, my knowledge and courage; I take it all in stride. Still. It is hard to do all this without the pleasure of fine company, without the lovely every day life that so many of my friends take for granted. One day! One day I too will have that back. For now, the kitties and I snuggle with wine, books and movies, and I find all the ways I can eat chocolate and remain healthy. Cheers.
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