I suppose that things have changed over the year to bring us back to Imbolc. The dog is sleeping by the woodstove, enjoying the warmth that it gives. The sun is trying to peak through the clouds to help warm the earth so that the flora and fauna of the farm can begin their annual awakening. And here I am, sitting on my couch listening to the quiet that can only occur in the country, wondering what to cook for dinner. It is a slow day full of activity. Subtle activity.
So what changed? Well, last year I had no dog. My old girl passed four years prior and I didn't have the heart to move another "best friend" into her place. But our new puppy is not a replacement; she is an addition to the family that is unique and original. She may have four legs and fur in common with my old dog, but beyond that they are as different as any two people.
I am also now living on a farm. I moved from the city to the country and am so happy that I did. The quiet solitude allows me time to think, time to grow, time to just be myself. There are pressures, but they are different here. Now I worry about when I should be looking to plant my garden and how far apart to plant the berry bushes. There is no more worry about the store across the street being robbed or if it alright to leave my car on the wrong side of the road for and extra hour. The quiet here is complete. It hits the soul and the mind all at once and engulfs your senses so that you understand that all is well and your world, my world, will is fine. It is okay to go slow, there is no need to rush. Time passes so quickly here, but it is measured in work accomplished rather than by the ticks on a clock. Here I feel whole.
And then I have changed. I no longer hold the same job, I left it behind me. I have rested, am resting, in the quiet solitude of winter in Central New York. The snow has blanketed me for a few months and will continue for a few more. But I do not sleep and leave all thought or activity behind. Far from it. I am working on who I am and who I am becoming. I am evolving, or as I once heard say, I am a human becoming because I am a work in progress that will never stop. To be a human being means that you have stopped evolving, stopped growing, stopped becoming. That is not what has happened at all. If anything I am doing more now that I ever have in the past.
And that brings me back to Imbolc. It is the promise of what lies under the surface of the snow. The promise of what has been waiting to be born again in the light and warmth of the spring. It is there, we are there, and now is the time to appreciate all of the potential we have at our finger tips to begin living and growing as the seasons begin to warm.
May you have a blessed Imbolc.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wind
The wind is creating a new world outside my window. It takes leave of the lake and descends on the land in crushing bursts, unpredictable to anyone walking the land. I watch it move outside the protective glass. The trees violently lurching back and forth when hit with the silent force from the west. Snow dancing in wild cadence across the field eradicates the trees on the other side from sight. I am surrounded by a world of chaos that is driven by an unseen master. The wind does not kiss the earth today; it rips across it with icy blows.
Cold snow, it bites my skin in frenzied bursts that I know are coming but cannot prepare for. I am now in the middle of the dance, but I can’t hear the music that gives it rhythm. I can only stumble through the frenzy trying to anticipate which way my dance partner wants me to move and then do so accordingly. The entire time I push forward, wanting to feel the air around me and at the same time focusing on the moment when I can once again enter the calm on the other side of the window pane. Departure from the solitude of my home was necessary; the fuel that keeps me warm and comfortable is held in the barn across the way.
As always, in order to obtain calm in my life I cross a chasm of confusion to find what will sustain me. It is only out of chaos that order can be found, and so, into the wild dance of winter wind I go. Tonight I will sleep well in the warmth of my home.
Cold snow, it bites my skin in frenzied bursts that I know are coming but cannot prepare for. I am now in the middle of the dance, but I can’t hear the music that gives it rhythm. I can only stumble through the frenzy trying to anticipate which way my dance partner wants me to move and then do so accordingly. The entire time I push forward, wanting to feel the air around me and at the same time focusing on the moment when I can once again enter the calm on the other side of the window pane. Departure from the solitude of my home was necessary; the fuel that keeps me warm and comfortable is held in the barn across the way.
As always, in order to obtain calm in my life I cross a chasm of confusion to find what will sustain me. It is only out of chaos that order can be found, and so, into the wild dance of winter wind I go. Tonight I will sleep well in the warmth of my home.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Food for the soul
Yesterday brought "new" friends, new experiences, and new laughter. This last week I was formally appointed to the position of Pagan Chaplain for Syracuse University. This is such an honor and an achievement beyond words. But this is also just the beginning of a wonderful new learning experience.
Yesterday was my first official Chaplains meeting. I was introduced to both old and new friends as the "new" chaplain. I know most of the chaplains, but most of them have not bothered to know me. It amazed and amused me who had taken the time to get to know the religious leaders/advisors and who had not. After all, I am the pagan who holds ritual on the quad, who would have thought that there would be official recognition of us! I did. I always did.
At some point I knew that this would happen, I just didn't know when. But back to the laughter. As the meeting progressed those that had not noticed me in the past nine years of my service now could not avoid me. Here I am with a seat at the table and enjoying every moment of it. I am not the only newbie this time--the new Dean is also in attendance. Tiffany is not officially the Dean unitl March 1, but it is always good to get a head start in a new job and after yesterday I think she really needs it! Not that she is not competent, not at all. Rather the early interaction will help her get a handle on the very diverse personalities that make up the Chaplancies of Syracuse University. And I felt for her. I have the luxury of being the "odd" religion and no one has any notion of what it is I am going to be doing. The evangelical minister told me he would be interested in getting to know what it is I believe cause he knows nothing about "pagan". That one surprised me.
And then it happened, the discussion turned to food. Not just any food, but the need for potlucks, breakfasts, luncheons, and other gatherings so that the Dean could get to know the diverse group that she had just been placed at the helm of. I didn't realize that other spiritual paths placed so much emphasis on breaking bread together! But wait, the other chaplains, well most of them, were laughing under their breath. There were snickers, chuckles and then the laughter began to grow. It wasn't the other paths, it was one man continually working in a meal for the group to be paid for by the new Dean! It was funny, almost to the point of being sublimely ridiculous. I couldn't believe it, here was a group of individuals from multiple spiritual paths in one room and it all boiled down to the desire of one man to feast. I love it. If we can get past the feeding of the body just think what we can do!
The next meeting will be interesting I'm sure, but it isn't for a bit. The semester should be an educational experience that at the moment I'm sure I can't even begin to fathom. I'll keep you posted, but in the meantime I think I'll have some lunch.
Yesterday was my first official Chaplains meeting. I was introduced to both old and new friends as the "new" chaplain. I know most of the chaplains, but most of them have not bothered to know me. It amazed and amused me who had taken the time to get to know the religious leaders/advisors and who had not. After all, I am the pagan who holds ritual on the quad, who would have thought that there would be official recognition of us! I did. I always did.
At some point I knew that this would happen, I just didn't know when. But back to the laughter. As the meeting progressed those that had not noticed me in the past nine years of my service now could not avoid me. Here I am with a seat at the table and enjoying every moment of it. I am not the only newbie this time--the new Dean is also in attendance. Tiffany is not officially the Dean unitl March 1, but it is always good to get a head start in a new job and after yesterday I think she really needs it! Not that she is not competent, not at all. Rather the early interaction will help her get a handle on the very diverse personalities that make up the Chaplancies of Syracuse University. And I felt for her. I have the luxury of being the "odd" religion and no one has any notion of what it is I am going to be doing. The evangelical minister told me he would be interested in getting to know what it is I believe cause he knows nothing about "pagan". That one surprised me.
And then it happened, the discussion turned to food. Not just any food, but the need for potlucks, breakfasts, luncheons, and other gatherings so that the Dean could get to know the diverse group that she had just been placed at the helm of. I didn't realize that other spiritual paths placed so much emphasis on breaking bread together! But wait, the other chaplains, well most of them, were laughing under their breath. There were snickers, chuckles and then the laughter began to grow. It wasn't the other paths, it was one man continually working in a meal for the group to be paid for by the new Dean! It was funny, almost to the point of being sublimely ridiculous. I couldn't believe it, here was a group of individuals from multiple spiritual paths in one room and it all boiled down to the desire of one man to feast. I love it. If we can get past the feeding of the body just think what we can do!
The next meeting will be interesting I'm sure, but it isn't for a bit. The semester should be an educational experience that at the moment I'm sure I can't even begin to fathom. I'll keep you posted, but in the meantime I think I'll have some lunch.
Friday, January 8, 2010
The Silence of Snow
I sit in my living room and listen. There is no noise, there is only quiet. But it is not a silence, it is a quiet that gives voice to snow. We have much to be told by the snow. Not just the realization of cold and inconvenience, but the lessons of nature in all of its manifestations.
I look out the windows and watch the snow fall; it is a gentle descent to the ground for the most part. On occasion the wind causes disruption to the pattern through a chaotic dance of chance. Creating drifts in some areas while leaving the protected space beneath a tree relatively snow free. But there is no "snow free" area in reality, only small oasis' in an otherwise desert of white flakes. The dog finds those safe havens, the less deep pools of frozen water. She has to in order to take care of her own needs. And so the snow has spoken to me saying that even when things may seem overwhelming and unmanageable there are places of relief if you look hard enough. Sometimes you need to create these spaces, but nature will provide the opportunity.
The snow speaks to me of obligations fulfilled and promises created. Nature has taken care of us in the past. She gave us light, warmth, food, air, the ability to walk freely and enjoy the smells and sounds of growth, and the freedom to enjoy all that she is. She has fulfilled her obligation of giving us a time to run. It is our turn to wait while the land slumbers. This is our half of the obligation, to allow the earth to rest and take care of its own needs. We have been given the tools and the sustenance to take care of ourselves during this time. That was our agreement with nature, give us the warmth half of the year allowing us to gather strength to move forward and in return we will take care of ourselves while you sleep silently under your blanket of white. The obligation given last year has been fulfilled.
A new promise is created. One that says I will return and once again allow you to feel the warmth of the sun on your face, but at the moment let me rest. Our half of the promise is to be understanding and appreciate the slower tempo of life that winter brings. It is not necessary to always move quickly; spinning faster and faster until we lose control of who we are becoming. Snow intentionally slows us down. It restricts our movements when we try to navigate through it, forcing a change in clothing that both protects and limits our bodies. We can resist this slowing if we wish, but to what end? Is it not better to slow down on occasion rather than always run through life? If we listen to what the snow says then we find the answer. Be encased in your cocoons and emerge in the spring refreshed and whole, ready to move freely in the sun.
So I listen and hopefully I understand what it is that the snow is trying to tell me. I look forward to warmer days when I can work my garden, watch my grandchildren run, and move freely unencumbered by layers of of clothing. But for now I sit back and watch the snow fall gently, silently, to the ground gracefully rocking back and forth. I will enjoy the warmth of the hearth inside my home and enjoy the beauty of the white sun of winter as it crosses the sky. I will walk out at night in the darkness and see crisp, clear starry heavens and find the winter's constellations. I will not bemoan this time; like the earth I will replenish the soul and enjoy the depth of winter that in truth is necessary.
I suppose that is the greatest thing that the snow tells us to remember. If it were not for this time, there would never be a spring.
I look out the windows and watch the snow fall; it is a gentle descent to the ground for the most part. On occasion the wind causes disruption to the pattern through a chaotic dance of chance. Creating drifts in some areas while leaving the protected space beneath a tree relatively snow free. But there is no "snow free" area in reality, only small oasis' in an otherwise desert of white flakes. The dog finds those safe havens, the less deep pools of frozen water. She has to in order to take care of her own needs. And so the snow has spoken to me saying that even when things may seem overwhelming and unmanageable there are places of relief if you look hard enough. Sometimes you need to create these spaces, but nature will provide the opportunity.
The snow speaks to me of obligations fulfilled and promises created. Nature has taken care of us in the past. She gave us light, warmth, food, air, the ability to walk freely and enjoy the smells and sounds of growth, and the freedom to enjoy all that she is. She has fulfilled her obligation of giving us a time to run. It is our turn to wait while the land slumbers. This is our half of the obligation, to allow the earth to rest and take care of its own needs. We have been given the tools and the sustenance to take care of ourselves during this time. That was our agreement with nature, give us the warmth half of the year allowing us to gather strength to move forward and in return we will take care of ourselves while you sleep silently under your blanket of white. The obligation given last year has been fulfilled.
A new promise is created. One that says I will return and once again allow you to feel the warmth of the sun on your face, but at the moment let me rest. Our half of the promise is to be understanding and appreciate the slower tempo of life that winter brings. It is not necessary to always move quickly; spinning faster and faster until we lose control of who we are becoming. Snow intentionally slows us down. It restricts our movements when we try to navigate through it, forcing a change in clothing that both protects and limits our bodies. We can resist this slowing if we wish, but to what end? Is it not better to slow down on occasion rather than always run through life? If we listen to what the snow says then we find the answer. Be encased in your cocoons and emerge in the spring refreshed and whole, ready to move freely in the sun.
So I listen and hopefully I understand what it is that the snow is trying to tell me. I look forward to warmer days when I can work my garden, watch my grandchildren run, and move freely unencumbered by layers of of clothing. But for now I sit back and watch the snow fall gently, silently, to the ground gracefully rocking back and forth. I will enjoy the warmth of the hearth inside my home and enjoy the beauty of the white sun of winter as it crosses the sky. I will walk out at night in the darkness and see crisp, clear starry heavens and find the winter's constellations. I will not bemoan this time; like the earth I will replenish the soul and enjoy the depth of winter that in truth is necessary.
I suppose that is the greatest thing that the snow tells us to remember. If it were not for this time, there would never be a spring.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Regaining Time
Its early morning and I am up. There is nothing unusual about that, I am always up "early" compared to my partner. He and I have different internal clocks that compliment each other nicely. But being up early gives me time, something that I have not felt that I have had lately. There is no reason for not making time, or finding it, but it still has been elusive to me. Yet, when I put it into these terms I find that I smile for time is an illusion as well.
We count seconds, minutes, and hours on a clock; there are days which turn to months on calendars, but in the end we are the ones that create the fractured moments that we call time. Once created we then gain or lose the bits and pieces of a day. We can feel good or bad about how we spent our time wondering how the next day will be as if we have no say. It is all a choice. To an extent that is true, pressures outside of ourselves can dictate how we spend our day, our month, our life even. But not this morning; this morning is mine in the wee early hours.
I have changed my life, begun to reconstruct it in a manner that is pleasing to me. That sounds selfish and yet it is not. If I do not give to my family the best and most honest me that there is I am robbing both them and myself of what is most precious... an honest relationship. I had lost myself, lost in the world and its demands to be a "good" mother, partner, employee, employer, or whatever other label you would like to put there. But another self was crying to get out and be with the world. That self had been shuffled away for a few years in order to stay in front of all the demands that life and society had placed before me. I allowed it, I was partner in my own captivity, I could stop it, and I did.
I changed my life; reinvented it to an extent. I walked away from all of the things that I thought everyone placed value on and that I envisioned that was required of me. When I turned my back and walked away an amazing thing happened. Those that mean the most to me, those that I love, smiled. They were pleased that I no longer agonized over how my time and energy were taken from me every day and that I had nothing left to give at the end of each cycle. Everyone smiled and they still are smiling. I am now my true self, the self that I wanted to give to them but felt I could not. The person inside is no longer screaming to get out; she is out and gently sipping coffee in the very early hours of the day.
So who is this new person that sits where I use to? Well that is the beauty of it all, I do not know. I have a lifetime of discovery with family and friends before I answer that question. All I know for know is that time has returned to what it should have been all along. It has returned to the turning of the wheel, to marking passage through seasons not seconds, and most of all it moves at nature's pace and not man's.
We count seconds, minutes, and hours on a clock; there are days which turn to months on calendars, but in the end we are the ones that create the fractured moments that we call time. Once created we then gain or lose the bits and pieces of a day. We can feel good or bad about how we spent our time wondering how the next day will be as if we have no say. It is all a choice. To an extent that is true, pressures outside of ourselves can dictate how we spend our day, our month, our life even. But not this morning; this morning is mine in the wee early hours.
I have changed my life, begun to reconstruct it in a manner that is pleasing to me. That sounds selfish and yet it is not. If I do not give to my family the best and most honest me that there is I am robbing both them and myself of what is most precious... an honest relationship. I had lost myself, lost in the world and its demands to be a "good" mother, partner, employee, employer, or whatever other label you would like to put there. But another self was crying to get out and be with the world. That self had been shuffled away for a few years in order to stay in front of all the demands that life and society had placed before me. I allowed it, I was partner in my own captivity, I could stop it, and I did.
I changed my life; reinvented it to an extent. I walked away from all of the things that I thought everyone placed value on and that I envisioned that was required of me. When I turned my back and walked away an amazing thing happened. Those that mean the most to me, those that I love, smiled. They were pleased that I no longer agonized over how my time and energy were taken from me every day and that I had nothing left to give at the end of each cycle. Everyone smiled and they still are smiling. I am now my true self, the self that I wanted to give to them but felt I could not. The person inside is no longer screaming to get out; she is out and gently sipping coffee in the very early hours of the day.
So who is this new person that sits where I use to? Well that is the beauty of it all, I do not know. I have a lifetime of discovery with family and friends before I answer that question. All I know for know is that time has returned to what it should have been all along. It has returned to the turning of the wheel, to marking passage through seasons not seconds, and most of all it moves at nature's pace and not man's.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Have you ever read a book that you could not put down; that you devoured until you reached the last forty or fifty pages? At that point you open it often and read a few paragraphs so you can finish, but somehow you find reasons not to continue. You do not understand why, it is a wonderful read and then it happens. You realize that you are delaying so that the story will not end. That is the only way I can describe Dance of Stones… a story that you just do not want to end.
Kenn Day, a modern day post tribal Shaman, retells the story of his 1998 trip to sacred sites in Europe. The trip was one of opening and enlightenment for both Kenn and his companion. Moving from site to site using intuition as their roadmap and magpies as their guide posts, self realization and new life paths were opened to both travelers in this story. It was a delight to take the trip with the two of them, but it was not just a matter of reading their story, it was also an opening of self for me as I took the journey with them. I had been thinking of this book for a while but had made one excuse or another for putting off reading it. As with all things, when it was time to act on this thought I dove in and I’m glad that I did.
My own journey has taken many twists and turns not unlike the journey in this story. The reading of the book happened when I needed to be reminded of lessons long ago learned. How many times has it happened that we slip into complacency and forget the magic around us? When that happens to me I begin to feel as if I am walking a fog; this book was the tunnel out of the fog. Passages of text to quote elude me as I write this. Maybe each person needs to read Dance of Stones to find their own unique lesson. If you need an inspiration to help you find a new perspective Dance of Stones will not disappoint you. Suffice it to say that I gained insight to the journey of two individuals as well as to my own path in this world.
Kenn has written in a manner that makes this book accessible to everyone. That is not to say it is a watered down bit of writing, rather it is in the language common to all of us; it is the written if he were speaking. I could not have gained what I did if it was written any other way. In writing about his journey, Kenn speaks to us as if we were sitting around a campfire, engaged in his words, body language, and voice and allows us to take the story to our heart to remember time and time again. Kenn’s talent in using story telling has moved from oral tradition to the written page beautifully.
Dance of Stones is a story to read over and over and I would recommend it to both those well along their path and those just beginning to search for one. It is a wonderful and gentle reminder that regardless of our experience we are all travelers sharing a common road and in one way or another we all have something to teach and to learn.
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