Preparing for Imbolc, looking at Fate

Tomorrow is Imbolc, a traditional time to make a dedication of oneself to one's spiritual life. Some women choose an aspect of the Goddess to dedicate themselves to for a year. Hecate, in her guise as Moira or Fate, has been haunting me for some time now; I think it's time to dedicate to her. I'm reading an interesting book about the relationship between hubris and Fate; I may write more about that here later.

Today, according to Seasons of the Witch, is a good day to do magic for job hunting. I just submitted a job application yesterday, so I'll spend some time focused on that goal. It's a publishing job that I think I'll enjoy, and that will pay adequately while I discern my next steps. Adonis and I are deciding whether to move to Brooklyn (we love the city) or to stay where we are, upstate, buy a house, and commit ourselves anew to this community which has held us already much longer than we anticipated. He moved here in 1992 to begin college; I moved here in 1995 to begin graduate school. We love it here. But to stay - is the thing to sink our roots deep and build a life here, at least for the next decade, or would that be cowardly somehow, an acquiescence to comfort, or just to inertia?

My dissertation has lain fallow for some months, and I'm already starting to wonder what to do next - whether "next" comes with finishing or with deciding not to finish. Here are the things I think I would do if money were no object:

• Spend a season apprenticing with Susun Weed on her land near Woodstock.
• Spend a month at Kripalu to become a certified yoga teacher.
• Spend six months getting massage therapy certification.
• Move to California for a couple of years and study depth psychology at Pacifica Graduate Institute.
• Move to Boulder for a couple of years and study at Naropa.
• Study a year or more at Diana's Grove.

And who knows what else?

My way to astrology

So what's the deal with astrology? I was raised to believe it was bullshit - like playing the lottery, a way to sucker the naive and unsophisticated. Unable to grow up free of Christian fundamentalism, though I myself was raised in a perfectly nice mainstream Protestant denomination, I also got a taste of the attitude that astrology and other occult practices are the work of dark forces, of Satan, perhaps, and ought to be avoided. That's an interesting attitude because it presupposes that these practices work on some level. My academic studies in philosophy eschewed anything that smacked of the irrational - even those nice mainstream Protestants. I never believed that astrology was evil; the fire and brimstone folk never got to me. I simply thought that it was false and silly and got in the way of my taking seriously an earthbased spirituality.

In graduate school, I started working with a massage therapist who also did energy healing - "whatever that is," I thought. I couldn't deny that her work was very effective and that I could feel something going on in my body. She's also a smart woman from an academic family who herself had gone to Swarthmore, and I admit with some embarrasment that her intellectual cred made me more willing to trust her. She recommended her astrologer to me, describing her as the smartest woman she’d ever met. My curiosity was piqued.

It was many years after first learning of this astrologer that I actually went to see her. First I sent Adonis,* as a gift for his 29th birthday, which I knew was astrologically significant as the Saturn return. I trust him implicitly, and when he raved about his session, I decided to visit the astrologer myself. Her intelligence, depth of knowledge, and insight blew me away. I didn’t understand how she did what she did – and I still don’t – but my two hours spent with her gave me enormous insight into myself and my life.

Now I’m part of a spiritual community, many of whom are highly trained in astrology and use it as a tool in their spiritual lives. My astrologer, who is 60, took her first astrology class from another member of the group when she was an undergraduate at an Ivy League university and he was a member of the mathematics faculty, teaching astrology as a graduate seminar! Many members of my community have shared in spiritual community for 25 years or more; they have studied with the same teachers, learned astrology together, started an esoteric publishing company, sat in audience with the Dalai Lama, and so on. There was a time in my life when I would have written them off (without knowing them) as New Age weirdoes. Yet they are some of the most loving, compassionate, spiritually curious and mature people I’ve ever known.

Maybe astrology isn’t bullshit. Maybe it’s a kind of literary device for interpreting a life. (I’ve thought of tarot cards in the same way.) Or maybe there’s more to it than that. I’m more open to mystery than I used to be, simply because my life experiences demand it of me. “As above, so below.” “As without, so within.” We are made of the same stuff as stars. The universe is contained within a leaf of grass. Everything vibrates with energy. Perhaps the arrangement of the planets when an infant is born energetically influences the course of that life. Perhaps the relation between planets and person isn’t causal but synchronicitous – meaningful because we give it meaning…but then that meaning becomes objective, or independent of the meaning-makers.

*Those of you who read SB and know your Greek literature and mythology will understand who Adonis is.

Organization as spiritual practice

Recently I picked up a book called It's Hard to Make a Difference When You Can't Find Your Keys by Marilyn Paul. (You can download the first chapter at her website for free.) It's a book about organization as a spiritual practice, and while that may sound hokey, I'm finding it relevant and useful. I've always been disorganized about some things, like my finances, and over the past five years or so, I've become disorganized about things that I've always managed fairly well, like my work, eating healthfully, and keeping my home in order. I've felt overwhelmed, stuck, and unsure how to change things. (My perfectionist tendencies lead me to declare every six weeks, I have to change my entire life right now! Shockingly, that doesn't work very well.) Dr. Paul's book addresses the underlying causes of disorganization, such as feelings of worthlessness; perfectionism (who, me?); or underlying beliefs like "being organized is boring" or "creative people are messy" or "I have better things to do with my life" (which is true until you can't keep track of where your money or research is or what you're supposed to be accomplishing to pursue those "better things"). It's surprising to me, and hard to admit, how disorganized my life has become, and how much that interferes with my day-to-day functioning. It's easy for me to get caught up in the "family mythos" that I'm lazy, flaky, or an absent-minded genius (my parents and sister really do think these things about me). When I was severely depressed, I resisted the romanticization of depression as the hallmark of creative genius. Depression means you don't get shit done. Well, now it's time for me to admit the same thing about being disorganized and messy. And I really like Dr. Paul's book so far, because it meets me on my spiritual path, as it were, with compassion and insight. If you're someone who wants to be more creative or productive, or wants to have a life more aligned with your values, and you're a spiritual seeker, then I highly recommend this book. I'm reading through it as well as beginning to work through the exercises, and I'll report back.

Simple, comforting acts

Often I allow myself to become so ennervated and ungrounded that I won't take even a small step to help myself feel better. I want to become aware of small comforts. So I just made myself a cup of ginger tea with honey and echinacea to help heal the head cold that arrived last night. What other small actions might I take when I'm feeling overwhelmed or scattered?

• Make a cup of herbal tea.
• Lie down in corpse pose with my legs propped at 90 degrees on a chair and my body covered with a blanket.
• Breathe.
• Walk around the block without the dog.
• Cuddle with the dog and tune into his energy.
• Clean one thing.
• Go to bed early.
  

What do you do?

I've begun reading Sarah Ban Breathnach's book, Simple Abundance, which is a daybook for one year. I've also started keeping a gratitude journal - five things every evening. Breathnach suggests that we become "curators of our own contentment," which I find a delicious phrase and a worthy project for the new year.

Straying from the path

Here is what Rob Brezny has to say for Pisces sun this year:

In his book The Disappearance of the Universe, Gary Renard quotes the counsel of his teacher: "A jet airliner is always going off course, but through constant correction it arrives at its destination. So will you arrive at yours." Remember that advice throughout 2006, Pisces. My analysis of the astrological omens suggests that you will be frequently straying from the path of your highest destiny, and yet that's exactly what needs to happen in order for you to reach your highest destiny. Forced to keep making regular adjustments, you will tone and strengthen your willpower, which is essential to you achieving the goals that really matter.

Good, because my life's course feels like nothing more than tacking back and forth through the wine-dark sea on a foggy night.

A blessed Yule

We tend a fire throughout the longest night to coax the sun's return. The tired sun, held in the arms of Night, grows younger and younger, to be reborn at dawn. What a miracle it is to live on this watery planet suspended at just the right distance from the sun for us to grow and thrive. Metaphor and stories abound: The people who walk in darkness have seen a great light. Hope is kindled in the shadows, in squalor and rejection, in a crowded city, on a mundane journey. The Divine must be tended like a helpless infant. But the literal is also worthy of awe: food, heat, wind, ozone, garden, growth, dinner. Photosynthesis. Delicate, chance-in-a-million life.

From our vantage on earth, the sun sleeps long and wakes slowly. Did our "primitive" ancestors worry its return? Even philosophers like David Hume - sophisticated, post-Enlightenment - wouldn't guarantee the sun's rising again. So we keep vigil through this night. We greet the dawn with wonder and relief. Summer is still a promise and a dream. Dream the long nights. Bask in the warmth of your tribe. Stoke the fire, and hope the future into being.

Yule altar

A few years ago - I don't remember when - I began a tradition of building an altar dedicated to peace on my fireplace mantle. This morning I built one again. As someone who grew up loving Christmas, it's important to me to claim this season as my own, and to bring a mix of the solemn and festive to my own Pagan, Wiccan holy day. I celebrate Yule intimately, with my lover and perhaps a few friends. Then I fly to my parents, where we still celebrate Christmas. I treasure the quiet of the solstice before the bustle of Christmas, and I try to keep this time of year quiet and home-centered if I possibly can. Yesterday, Adonis and I took our new puppy, Lugh (his real name, not an alias!), out into the snow to cut down our Yule tree. Now she stands proudly in our living room, in a corner with two windows, next to the fireplace. We will string her with white lights. The altar - the mantle - is decked with gold and blue paper stars strung beneath it. There are crystals, stones, candles, and a bunch of dried white sage. A hurricane glass filled with brightly colored Christmas-tree ornaments from Target. A card with a dove carrying holly berries in its mouth. Tarot cards: an image of the sun from Adonis's Soul Cards; The World from the Gaian Tarot; Lakshmi (X: Fortune) from the Goddess Tarot; and the seven of pentacles from the Druid Craft Tarot. Images of the Goddess: a statue of Kwan Yin in meditation, holding a small orb - the earth; a painted icon of Mary as Goddess of Peace; a Healer sculpted by a local artist; a stone egg with a spiral on it, from Iceland; a snake, also crafted by someone locally. A small statue of a woman kneeling in prayer. An inukshuk from the Inuit in Canada. A small vial of oil from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab.

We've been spending the last few nights with fire lit, cooking at home, cuddling with the dog, and my reading aloud from Pride and Prejudice. It's a damn near perfect life.

The Circle Within, 2

Someone once asked me, "What's the point of this Wicca thing? I mean, if you're not trying to get into Heaven or find Nirvana, what are you trying to do?"

That is a tough one, and a question I don't think many of us have given a lot of thought to. It is difficult to step back and look at the bigger picture. I gave the only answer I knew, then or now. The point of Wicca, the real mystery behind it all, is to remember the Divinity within ourselves and all things; to manifest our God and Goddess all the time, every day, every moment; to love as They love, to give as They give; to serve Them in perfect trust, and thus bring Their grace more fully into the world; to understand that we are the embodiment of the Divine love and nurture, and to express that love in the world; to walk as God and Goddess.

- Dianne Sylvan, The Circle Within, p. 5

"Up to this point, how have you seen the God and Goddess? Do They have faces and names? Are They a presence without words?"

It's characteristic of Wicca to conceive of the Divine as Goddess and God. Of course, if you ask three Wiccans how they do this, you'll get seven answers. I believe that the divine creative and destructive force in the universe is Goddess. I call the earth Goddess. It's important for me to conceive of the Divine as female because I am a woman made in Her image, because the idea of God brings with it monotheistic patriarchy (although, unlike some Goddess folk, I don't believe this is a necessary connection), and because I think it's important to craft a new imaginary of the Divine (this last point is made by Carol Christ in her excellent paper "Why Women Need the Goddess"). I don't believe that all the gods in all the different world pantheons are real and distinct entities; rather, I think each one reveals to us an aspect of the Divine. For myself, I often address Spirit or Goddess, but I also feel drawn to Her in Her guises as Artemis, Demeter, Hecate, Brigid, and Kwan Yin.

I resist what I see as the gender essentialism of much of Wicca, dividing qualities and tasks into male and female and thus into the realms of God and Goddess. That sort of thinking is evident in this image of the "Lord and Lady." Never mind that they are pale white with golden hair. The "Lord" is standing upright, body square to the viewer, clasping the "Lady" at her wrist and around her back. He is a head taller than she is, and far more muscular. Her soft body is turned inward towards him, her head resting on his shoulder, as if she is leaning on him for support. Her gaze is dreamy and far away; his is level and steady. This image is sexist and heterosexist. Hardly a powerful or liberating image of female Divinity!

The Divine is beyond human comprehension. However, being human, we imagine Spirit and put faces on it, and not just human faces. I think of the Goddess as human and animal, as transgendered, as intersexed, as both male and female, and neither. My favorite male face of God, and the one I invoke most often, is the Green Man. I think it's important to have conceptions of male Divinity; I'm not Dianic, although I respect the Dianics, and their work influences my own. But we, both women and men, need a conception of the male Divine because we desperately need new models of how to be a man. The God as queer, as trickster, as gentle parent, as nurturer, as part of nature, as bodily, as One who respects women and fights violence...this is my image of the God.

"Earth's crammed with heaven."

Many Pagans (and lots of other people) love Rob Brezny's Free Will Astrology. I think of Rob as a prophet of joy for the jaded hipster set. (I include myself in that demographic, although my hipster cred is questionable.) The other day I picked up his book, Pronoia is the Antidote for Paranoia, which promises to be a holy book of fascination and clear-sighted optimism. I want to join Rob's tribe.

So I'm curious, my fellow creators. Since you and I are in charge of making a new world - not just breaking the old world - where do we begin? What stories do we want at the heart of our experiments? What questions will be our oracles?

I'm allergic to dogma. I thrive on the riddles. Any idea I believe, I reserve the right to disbelieve as well.

But more than any other vision I've ever tested, pronoia describes the way the world actually is. It's wetter than water, stronger than death, and truer than the news. It smells like cedar smoke in early spring rain, and if you close your eyes right now, you can feel it shimmering like the aurora borealis in your organs and muscles. Its song is your blood's song.

Some people argue that life is strife and suffering is normal. Others swear we're born sinful and only heaven can provide us with the peace that passes understanding. But pronoia says that being alive on the rough green and brown earth is the highest honor and privilege. It's an invitation to work wonders and perform miracles that aren't possible in any nirvana, promised land, or afterlife.

I'm not exaggerating or indulging in poetic metaphor when I tell you that we are already living in paradise. Visualize it if you dare. The sweet stuff that quenches all of our longing is not far away in some other time and place. It's right here and right now.

Poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning knew the truth: "Earth's crammed with heaven."

Cleansing my work space

On Friday, I finished a chapter draft and sent it to my advisor. Today, I begin to write the next chapter. I've decided to do a purification ritual in my study nook to prepare for new work. Fortuitously, today is the new moon.

I'm going to clear the extraneous paper from my office and dump it in a basket in the living room to take care of later. (My office, by the way, is a 3'x5' former closet with a window and no door; it opens onto the hallway that runs the length of my apartment. Into the space, I've tucked a table and chair, a file cabinet, and many, many books, as well as all the charms I keep around me while I write - postcards, action figures, crystals, small pieces of art....) Then I will dust the books (a feather duster makes short work of this) and wipe down the surfaces and floor with rosemary water. I will tame the cords beneath my desk as best I can, fill the pencil holder with new pens, stack fresh paper and notecards on my desk, put away books that are lying around, neaten and straighten. Purify with salt water and incense.

And begin to write what comes next.