Archive | March, 2016

The leave-taking.

For just under 3 1/2 years, my clients and I have done our work in this office. They get to look out this window (and I get to look at them).

Many things have happened in this room.
Feelings.
Birthing of new selves and new hearts.
Insights.
The death of things that needed to die.
Truths beyond logic.
Healing.
Miracles have happened in this room. 

And I have watched the seasons pass with the light dimming over my shoulder as I write. And then the light comes back again.

 

Meriwether-Office-Window

 

When I first moved in, I was so scared of how big the room was. I put my desk in a corner and situated the furniture so it felt closed off. Now rearranged, it feels intimate and I feel confident. The space is open and calm.

One of the reasons I love it here is that it feels the tiniest bit like my soul home, Seattle. When I look out the front window, there is just a hint, just a reminiscence, of Greenwood or the Roosevelt District. It’s a fleeting second where my soul feels at home and I am no longer frazzled. I hold on to that second as long as I can. I re-create it as often as I can.

:::

If all goes well, I will be leaving in a few weeks. I don’t know where to, yet. First it will be my house (but we are also getting ready to move), and then- who knows? The sky is the limit, they say. I would just like to be somewhere grounded, to plant myself afresh.

As I wait to see how things will go, I find myself spending more time here. Just for the ‘Seattle view’ I think. I want to hold that as long as I can. I will miss it a great deal.

I know, in my heart, this is the end and also the beginning. My heart will find somewhere new to feel safe and to hold my clients in the safety and support they so need.

 

 

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Empress ::: Rising

bathtub filling with water, candles at the side, and a woman's thighs peeping above the water

 

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly

I know now how the butterfly feels in her cocoon. So recently a caterpillar. Knowing she had to find her way into darkness. And then coming apart. Completely apart.

Unraveling into a fiery soup of all the pieces and puzzles of herself. What will stay? What will go? What new will I become?

I careen in spirographs of release, grief, fear, confusion, hope, joy, dreams. It is draining. But the only thing to do is keep going. [Surrender? Yes. Quit? No.]

And then that new song played on the radio and I knew exactly what I was becoming. The pulse pulled together all that was still useful and all that was about to be.

Just like that, inside my cocoon, I swayed and giggled myself into who I am becoming. A new rhythm. Slower. Breathing. Healed. Loved.

All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

::: ::: ::: :::

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

I know why they think we are witches. We get into a steaming hot tub of water and 20 minutes later we come out different.

Rested.
Aware.
Cleansed.
Clear.
Ready.

We are magic, you know. We are divine magic, ladies. We transform ourselves all the time.

|No wonder we are frightening. Only a rare strength can match us.|

I will claim my magic, my divinity [between my legs]. I will own it. I transform.

I am who I am and no other. If you cannot honor me, you don’t deserve me.

All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

::: ::: ::: :::

Blackbird fly
Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night

This is how the Empress rises.

Out of a dark pool of water.

Into the dark night.

Dancing naked with the moon.

Owning her self + her journey + her power.

 

::: ::: ::: :::

Men may resurrect inside caves. Where they can break dead bones and create and yell and reverberate and re-vibrate into a newer version of themselves.

But women do not resurrect. They are reborn. We birth in water. In dark. Behind the thicket. With the moon. And the nocturnal creatures to lend energy and safety.

This is not Christian Easter, it is the wild Ostara.

 

 

0

The Funeral

|Two Saturdays Ago ::: But Good Friday Is A Better Symbol|

I took these things

your picture
a candle
words to banish you from my realm

I took them to the river
to burn
and bury
what lived between us.

Instead, I found a hundred deaths inside me
the belief in your potential
the belief that I was right
the refusal to accept my proper role
the belief that good works will be rewarded [just the way we want]
the fight
the hope
the ‘love’.

These, these were actually what needed to die
to be spoken into the void
to be buried
because they are not truth.
they were misunderstandings and improper orientations.

And so, I did
with words
and music
and fire

I burned it.
I buried it.
I danced like the witch I am, around the fire and the smoke
The ashes flew from my fingers

goodbye.

From it I will grow anew.
I know not what, except I will be
wiser
and open
and free.

Because after death
and after grief
I can forgive.

I forgive
myself
you
the ignorance
the stubbornness
the situation
the decisions

This is the only path [I know]
to a wise heart

I trust

I will grow, again,
into the Empress I am-
a diamond of my own making.

 

 

|Today ::: Almost Two Weeks After|

All that is left after leaving the burial ground is ghosts and ashes.

The ghosts were loud
but I walked deeper into myself
every day a step forward.
they may scream; I will not listen

The ashes stung my eyes; I cried
my grief flowed into the river

Today-
new moon
eclipse
-is a new day.

The ground between is finally still; dead.
What a relief.
Can you feel it, too?

 

 

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You’re Doing Your Best, And I Love You

I don’t know why this is on my mind today, but I just want to say: I know you are doing your best. We are all doing our best. And I love you for doing what you’re doing and being who you are. And trying your best each day.

I have (super) high expectations for myself- in terms of pretty much everything, but especially for personal and spiritual growth. I want to do what I came here to do, be of service (reduce suffering), and leave with less karma that I started with.

So, I try to do my best each day. And I know you are doing the same- we all are. Sometimes our ‘best’ does not look so great. That’s okay. That’s very okay.

I guess I just want to remember that people grow in different ways, at different rates, with different situations. It’s simply great that you’re growing. You’re not living the same day over and over again for sixty years. Give yourself a break and a pat on the back- as long as you’re growing, you’re doing it.

So, we’re all doing our best. Every day. And that is fine. It’s a miracle, actually.

Don’t you forget that. And I won’t, either.

I love you, fellow travelers.

white magnolia blossom opening against black background

 

 

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