A photo of a rock with sunlight filtered onto it.
Goddess Thealogy, Pagan Practice, Sacred Spiritual Growth

The Goddessing Cycle: Resting

Cross-posted on my SageWoman blog.

This post is the second (after Releasing) in my year of sharing the Goddessing Cycle, which is the flow of energy and draw toward ritual I experience in my relationship with Goddess. The phase of resting, for me, extends from December through February. The name is deceptive, as if hibernation and drawing inward are the focus of this season. Rather, I believe it is a time of deepening into the fullness of our inner world, and then a slow but steady rush of growth outward into the world around us.

The processes I’ll be describing below fit best in climates that become cold, bleak and snowy. I would be curious if those who live in very warm climates experience some of these moments in the peak of summer instead, when the heat (rather than the cold) makes it nearly impossible to spend time outside. Although I am presenting the four parts of the Goddessing Cycle as they unfold across the year for me, keep in mind that they may show up differently for you no matter where you live.

Image showing the Goddessing Cycle. A circle with bi-directional arrows containing the words Fruiting, Releasing, Resting and Unfurling in a clockwise order.

Simple Pleasures

There is something both young and ancient about resting. Babies (and puppies) physically sleep most of the time as their brains and bodies develop. Some people grow more dormant with age, casting off the tasks they deem unnecessary for those that are closest to their hearts. I find a simplicity rooted in resting, a request from my Inner Being/Goddess to settle into myself and search out that which is vital.

I spend several hours each winter compiling a record of the previous year, and then, from that place of reflection, creating goals for the new year. Rather than whine about New Year’s resolutions being stupid, I look at my culture’s practice of them and wonder about whether there are ancient or ingrained patterns to which we are attending when we seek to make new our attempts at self-improvement. I believe something has to stir in us to cause those of us who live in barren, frigid lands to believe that, during the bitterest of times, fresh and hopeful rousings are afoot.

An Inflection Point

During the resting phase of the year, I experience a shift in energy. The previous phase of releasing is inward-gathering, letting go of impediments and drawing toward inertia. There is a stillness at the heart of resting that we will be further exploring during the meditation I’ve created below. The stillness is a pause in fullness. It reflects a holding and then then turning outward of momentum and impulse. If we take time to practice being in the moment, we likely experience many of these inflections throughout each day, week and month, but it is only around the start of the new year that I make a deliberate practice of this redirection of my energy.

A Mediation for Resting

This ritual is designed primarily as a meditation on the moment—a way to connect to ourselves and the world around us through direct experience. It involves concentrating on one’s breath as a symbolic representation of the energy exchange that flows through each of us and through the world around us. It utilizes four of our five main senses, so adjust as needed to your own abilities and preferences. Exercise caution if you have an respiratory difficulties. You may want to record yourself reading the directions and play them back to yourself as you practice it.

Find a comfortable place to sit or lie down (outside if possible). Breathe deeply and slowly, noticing each in and out breath. Close your eyes and concentrate on the sounds around you. Spend a few minutes bringing your awareness to noises both close and far. Breathe in and hold your breath for a few seconds. As you do so, notice the stillness in the sounds around you. Where are the areas of silence? Where is the energy lessened? Breathe out as you feel the rush of sounds amplify. Where is there energy flowing? What form does the noise take and how does it sit with you? Continue this practice of finding the silence and the noise in rhythm with your breathing.

Next, turn your attention to your sense of touch, temperature and pressure. Breathe in slowly and deeply. Pay attention for a few moments to any skin sensations. Breathe in and hold your breath for a few seconds. Where on your body is there stillness? What areas seem neutral, neither hot nor cold, constricted nor loose? Breathe out and notice areas of high energy. Perhaps places where you can feel air flow or the dampness of the earth. Areas that are warmed by the sun or cooled by a chill. Continue to breathe in and out in the rhythm of movement and stillness.

Now, concentrate on your sense of smell. Breathe in and out to acclimate yourself to the scents around you. Breathe in through your nose and hold your breath for a few seconds. What happens to the smells when you do this? What pauses in you as scents disappear? Breathe out and, as you breathe in again, observe the movement of odors. Continue this rhythmic breathing, being sure to pause with each in-breath to notice the hollow.

Finally, open your eyes and drink in the sights around you. Breathe slowly for a few minutes as you examine your surroundings. Next, breathe in and, as you hold your breath briefly, find the areas of low energy. Where is there void? Where does emptiness and monotony show up? What lacks in color and texture? Breathe out and find places of movement, light and complexity. Continue scanning as you breathe in and out, pausing each cycle to see the neutral.

I encourage you to consider this meditation as a potential reflection of your inner world, especially if you are spending time as I am during this time in evaluating the past year and setting goals for the next one. I never knew I craved experiences like spaciousness and simplicity until I became more intentional in taking time to reflect. Modern-day life often sends us the message that we need to not only appear busy, but also effortless in our busyness. By finding the places where things are not moving or producing or changing, where they are still, we invite ourselves into internal areas of strength that we may otherwise view as weakness. It is okay to rest. Moreover, I believe we only find out the vastness of who we are (and/or who Goddess is) when we slow down enough to give every part of ourselves an opportunity to show up, be seen and just be.

Image showing the Goddessing Cycle. A circle with bi-directional arrows containing the words Fruiting, Releasing, Resting and Unfurling in a clockwise order.
Sacred Spiritual Growth

The Goddessing Cycle: Releasing

Cross-posted on my SageWoman blog.

This post is the first in a five-part series for #SacredSpiritualGrowth that I will be writing related to my personal conception of energy flow and focus, both internally and throughout the year, which I’ve titled the “Goddessing Cycle.” The cycle is based on the pattern of growth found in nature, for instance, in trees.

I intend to share about each season first, and to then provide a comprehensive post addressing all the components. I’ve taken this approach as I want to consciously live through and conduct ritual in each season before synthesizing the components. The themes are generally inspired by Pagan and Goddess Spirituality practices. However, I’ve found the number of Pagan “Wheel of the Year” ceremonies to be both overwhelming and impersonal and have been frustrated by the emphasis on childbearing capacities within Goddess Spirituality. One of my intentions is to create a way of holding space for the sacred that is not gender-specific. I would also like to avoid practices that favor the privileged or which borrow inappropriately from cultures other than my own. To this end, I welcome feedback on the accessibility, sensitivity and practicality of what I’m proposing.

Here I will be focusing on the months of September through November. I’ve found my own rhythm is a month off from the official calendar for the four seasons in North America and have adjusted accordingly. I want to mention, though, that this cycle is far more intimate than times of the year. I may cycle through multiple parts of it within a single day. I had at least three instances of release this past year that didn’t fit time-wise, and the “not the right time for this to happen” was felt deep within me.

What is it then, this releasing? Releasing, to me, involves acknowledging the areas of my life where things may be withering away and may need pruned. It includes setting firmer boundaries and refining my focus. My energy during this time flows inward; there can be a sense of scarcity which contradicts the typical “harvest” focus. In many ways, it is the harshest season, but is so very necessary for the abundance that precedes and follows it. It is noticing where I lack and owning it as well as noticing where I need to let go and doing so.

Releasing Ritual

Releasing can be painful, so proceed with caution. Consider your intentions and your self-care practices before diving in. Feel free to pick and choose what works for you and what you need to modify to make it your own.

Supplies

Leaves (try to find ones that are large and flat)

Yarn or string

A permanent marker

A journal

An unlit candle

Practices

The purpose of this ritual is to acknowledge and mourn relationships, experiences, goals, dreams and other aspects of our lives that have been recent failures, losses or in reaction to which we may need to establish stronger boundaries.

  • Cast a circle and welcome in any Deities that you wish using your own method. Decide upon 5-10 focal points and write each one on its own leaf. For instance, ask yourself what significant losses you’ve experienced this past year, what goals have gone unfulfilled, what dreams have been unaccomplished, or the specific needs you’ve been unable to have met by the relationships in your life. The main thrust of what you’ll want to include is things you’ve desired but have not been able to achieve, and which you perceive to be less important to you than you may have originally thought. Think especially of goals that were set by someone else, or standards that are society’s and not your own. Also consider desires that you realize are completely unachievable (always pleasing everyone) or which hold you back from self-acceptance (such as perfectionism).
  • Please note that this ritual is not a ritual of mourning. If you’ve lost someone close to you, consider adding a leaf reflecting what it is they represented that you no longer have in your life right now, rather than their name. Likewise, this is not a ritual of breaking bad habits—start on a mental scale and ask yourself from what the bad habit is protecting you. Work on releasing that.
  • Loosely tie the leaves onto the strand of yarn, leaving some room between each one so that they can hang down from it.
  • Reflect upon your losses. Use whichever methods appeal to you, such as Tarot or oracle cards, sitting in meditation, listening to sacred music, to commune with Deity and to learn what you need to realize, experience or do in order to release the disappointments and struggles you’ve been carrying. At the heart of release lies acceptance. What would need to go in your life to accept things as they actually are, not as you wish they would be? Record three specific insights into your journal. If less than three come to you, hold space for future revelations.
  • Holding the string of leaves in one hand, light the candle and speak the following chant, amending as it fits for you:

Goddess, I ask for your guidance and blessing in releasing that which is not life-giving.

I accept that not all branches bear fruit.

I am clearing the way for new growth in my life.

Hasten the earth to decompose, the wind to shift away, the water to erode and the fire to blaze the dead weeds to which I cling.

I open my hands to release (raise your hands palms up).

I hold space in my heart for transformation (place hands on heart).

  • Tie the string with the leaves in an area inside or outside of your house. If possible, put it into an area that will receive some wind.
  • Close the circle.
  • Over the next few days and weeks, return to your leaf-string. Notice which leaves are missing and which remain and reflect in your journal as to the extent to which you are still holding onto or are letting go of the focal-points you included.

The point of this ritual is to help you dig down to what it really is that you want, what it is that you have, and what it is that you cannot (yet) have. We can spend a ton of energy avoiding directly acknowledging our desires, so if that is as far as you make it, you’ve made progress. Notice that you aren’t being asked to ignore or shut off your desires. Desire is healthy and normal. What I am encouraging here is to find those desires that hold you back and which stifle your growth because they are not coming from your deepest heart and/or because they are not in alignment with reality or your purpose in life and then to open to allowing Goddess to transform and heal them.

Reflection

Please feel free to share your responses to this ritual and/or to the following questions in the comments.

  • Was there any sort of pattern to your focal-points for release?
  • What were the actions you derived in order to help you loosen your attachment to your desires?
  • To what extent did you experience a sense of release? How often may you need to revisit this practice to continue to transform your desires?

© 2018. All Rights Reserved, Suzanne Tidewater, Goddessing From the Heart

Sacred Spiritual Growth

Spiritual Disillusionment

For a time, I naively though I’d settled the question of finding my spiritual home in Goddess Spirituality. However, as I’ve really started setting the place up, opening locked doors and peering behind cabinets, I’ve stumbled upon a messy and foul-smelling cellar which I will start to examine for today’s #SacredSpiritualGrowth Saturday. The incense and sage of newness and excitement is now permeated with the stench of unprocessed bias in my house. And the longer I sit in disappointment, the more I see the tunnels of racism, classism and other worms of decay in myself.

I view what I’m undergoing as a developmental progression. I had a “honeymoon” period of learning new concepts and meeting new people, during which everything seemed polished and crisp. Over time, as with any human endeavor, the cracks and dampness started to show. In my particular case, the largest fissure, running straight through the center, is the belief that people should not be allowed to self-identify as womxn and should be excluded if they do not fit certain characteristics. There are also issues such as a lack of appreciation for intersectionality, and, in some corners, a heavy emphasis on either following the Goddesses of Northern Europe or on mixing and matching elements of various cultures without deep attention to their contextual meaning. In the wider Mind-Body-Spirit world, a large portion of the classes, courses and resources, aimed mostly at womxn, are allocated only to those with hundreds or thousands of dollars of disposable income. All is not “love and light” indeed.

My personal reflections on my experience thus far include:

Consider Renovation Rather Than Relocation

As I described above, finding the cellar crammed with ugliness caused me to want to escape. I care too much and feel too connected to Goddess to do that, though. I know this is my spiritual home. I’ve determined it’s time to contribute, on an individual and collective level, to sorting the mess and remaking the areas that aren’t life-giving.

If you’ve read my blog for any time, you’ve known me to be very concrete in my way of being. So, I am simultaneously digging more into minimalism and slow living in order to make my physical existence a reflection of my inner world (or is it the other way around)? Goddess Spirituality can be made more inclusive, affirming and those of us who practice it can go a lot further in our stance of solidarity; the same is true of the greater feminist and mind-body-spirit worlds. I am but one of many who are doing the work.

Go Deeper

I have been aware for some time of my specific spiritual calling, which is to help myself and others fully embrace all aspects of ourselves in a way that moves beyond shaming and blaming. One of the most helpful framings of bigotry in all its faces that I’ve encountered is to see it as Shadow. I absolutely experience this in myself; I’ve given surface recognition to my areas of bias but encounter a wall of shame when I try to go further. There is an internal voice inviting me toward this impasse, to sit with it and, together, from what is hidden and what I know, to dismantle it brick by brick. I’ve written previously of my inability to see my own hidden potential and mystery; I think it is likely across the way from these unexplored badlands. The light-bulb moment of recognition that my calling aligns directly with my disillusionment roots me in my purpose.

Take It In

As a trauma survivor, my bias is toward perceiving the world as a threat and to believing the only solution to be a dead sprint. In this shadow work in which I’m now engaging, though, I am learning very quickly that healing and change must be from my innermost cells first. I need to read and listen, to seek mentors and teachers, and to ponder and reflect much more than I cajole and demand change from others. Every time I believe I’ve slowed my walk sufficiently, I look around me and see how much ground I’ve covered without integration. Breathing in stillness and awareness is the concept on which I’m meditating.

Expect No Point of Arrival

I can never assume that I’ve dug in sufficiently to my areas of privilege or checked off enough boxes on my “standing in solidarity” card. Rather, as society’s norms change, I will do well to keep advancing along with them. I’ve been especially irate in witnessing, in an online forum, woman after woman proclaiming that her advanced age meant everyone else had to shut up and listen to her bigoted viewpoint in relation to transwomen. I can absolutely discount my elders far too easily and often and I can refuse to acquiesce to anyone, no matter their age, who refuses to see and respond to the harm they are causing. My anger belies my fear of calcifying into rigidity and inflexibility as I grow older.

In the service of self-examination and adjustment, I do think it is perfectly appropriate to pause and disengage from time to time for reflection. I may need to reassess the connection between my spirituality and my inclusivity. I may find that my own areas of struggle leave me drained to the point where I need to recharge before further engagement. My shadow-selves might need to process their shame and transform it into rededicated action.

If I am honest with myself, I will likely find that my motives need refinement. I need to assess whether my actions are performative, giving lip service to the “right things” for attention or recognition. In recognizing my own biases, I must be wary of then using this awareness to feed my demons of self-loathing and self-hatred. I may find that I long times to have my feeble attempts “count” and to then retreat into silent complicity. When I really dig into it, it is the personal stories of the effects of discrimination that inspire and compel me to go deeper; if my desire as a trauma survivor is to have my experience witnessed, in having been invited to see the inner world of another, I will not turn away. This motivation will hopefully, in time, become more fully grounded in an unshakeable and uncompromising dedication to have all people equally valued as human and worthy.

Anticipate Discomfort

I think it is wise to ask myself the question, “What do I want to get out of my spiritual practice?” If I’m honest, a lot of what I want is for it to help me feel less anxious and depressed. There is nothing wrong with this, but, for me, part of the process of spiritual maturation has been to remember, as I mentioned above, that on which my calling centers. In order for wholeness to be realized, I will go through some unpleasantness. It is necessary to reach the ends of myself and my typical responses, which, in the case of much of the oppression in the world, has been to be a silent but concerned bystander.

I’m trekking a few feet now into the tall grass, without a path, where there might be ticks and snakes and other trolls of threat. I’m tired of toeing the line and expecting someone else to clear the path for me. It takes courage to question my spiritual mentors and holy books; it takes even more courage to stay at it and stay with it after I realize there isn’t a meadow of wildflowers just past the brush. Although I may find myself on rough and uneven footing, I can know that I will emerge matured in my faith. More importantly, in joining with others in rooting out the invasive weeds of bigotry and hatred, the growth of our shared humanity can flourish. Mature spirituality does not shy away from injustice and suffering, instead, it welcomes the inner work and outer action needed to ensure the dignity of every person.

In what ways have you encountered spiritual disillusionment? What strategies and suggestions do you have for responding to it? Of what form are the individual and collective shadows you are meeting made?

Sacred Spiritual Growth

Resourcing Our Spiritual Needs: Unfiltered Inspiration

Cross-posted on my SageWoman blog.

Do you find yourself craving inspiration on a soul level? I believe that external stimulation nourishes us not only physically, emotionally and mentally, but also spiritually, and functions as a vital ingredient for our well-being. For today’s #SacredSpiritualGrowth Saturday, I will be investigating how slow and attentive engagement with the world around us can produce this sustenance.

Inspiration comes in at least two varieties: wild and processed. The first, the unfiltered variety, is not simply nature as it also includes human-cultivated materials that have not yet been fully assembled. It allows us to take things sense by sense, and to either simply appreciate each as it stands or to engage our creativity by constructing unique permutations. Processed inspiration sounds less appealing, but in fact has gone through one of the most creative machines there—another human’s mind. Each work of art and scientific finding is a human’s diamond. My mind internalizes and makes its own meaning of this product, but what is presented has been synthesized and layered through another’s concentration and effort. I never saw art or inquiry as vulnerability until I held it in this light. Taken together, wild and processed stimuli offer us an unlimited supply of fodder for creativity and growth. I will be tackling both topics in my #SacredSpiritualGrowth posts; today’s blog will consider the first by contemplating how we can engage our senses directly.

Raw Sensory Indulgence

Rather than an exhaustive list, I’ve included specific examples from my own life with an eye toward highlighting the impact of working with each sense individually.

Sight

The primary place in which I am delighted when I engage my sense of sight is in nature. As I’ve spent more time in outside, one of my favorite practices is to “look again,” by which I mean to take in a scene until I think I’ve captured all the nuances it holds, and then to challenge myself to reset the parameters and find an entirely new set of data coming at me. What was previously a simple glance at a tree or hedge evolves into an eco-sphere of activity from this vantage-point.

Human creations, in their raw form, can also connect with us on a visual level. For instance, as a child, I was drawn to fabric stores. I wasn’t very good at sewing and so I was unsure about why they held such appeal for me. I believe now that it was simply the full glass of colors, patterns and textures I was able to drink in with each visit that appealed to me. In the same vein, a row of paint samples may seem mundane but, through its activation of our visual system, we may perhaps find ourselves dreaming in full color.

Sound

Inspiration does not need to come only from experiences we find pleasing. I’ve written before about my difficulties processing certain sounds. I find the most peace in listening to birdsong and the rush of water in a stream, but I believe mechanical sounds and the babble of humans in motion can also provide fertile ground for the growth of our auditory attunement. Consider finding various places where you can sit for a few moments with your eyes closed, and simply listen.

Smell & Taste

Smell is a visceral sense that I believe worth of indulgence. As I described previously, I can get carried away in places such as spice shops. Each spice offers not just a sensory experience all its own, but can also allow an unfolding of emotions and memories. Displays with essential oils or botanical herbs and, of course, natural areas filled with flora allow for a variety of scents that are easily accessed in one location. Rather than rushing to partake in the next fragrance, try pausing and finding the faint whiffs amongst the strong in each smell.

Taste can be a bit more difficult to indulge in nature unless you have a guide who can tell you which items are edible. With or without this opportunity, another possibility is to taste each ingredient in the next dish you make as you assemble it. I think here about how often I barely perceive the flavors of entire meals I eat, much less each component that goes into it.

Touch

We “see” through more than our eyes. By touching various objects with our fingertips, we come to know reality in a way that is difficult to capture in words. One of my favorite encounters is touching the bark of a tree; I feel that a window into its soul is opened each time I do so. Allowing the sun to alight on our face or the rain to wet our feet speaks to us on a nonverbal level. Walking barefoot instantly grounds and reconnects me to Goddess.

From Inspiration to Creation

After engaging with these and other senses, we need not rush to synthesize them into something “creative.” Mindfully being present and absorbing the experience as it stands may be all that is needed; genuine inspiration cannot be rushed or manufactured. Personally, I feel a small shift inside me whenever something has ripened from its original green into a tasty morsel ready to be digested; when I respond to this intuitively, I am almost always delighted at the result. When I instead try to move on without pausing to meet this sensation, the bitter pulp of unready fruit tends to quickly dissuade me from my desire to get on with it.

Taking the entirety of my list of opportunities into account, I think that most of us have more than enough around us throughout the day from which we can draw inspiration. Rather than a lack of stimuli, I suspect what gets in the way of inspiration is in fact mindlessness—glossing over or rushing through material so quickly that we fail to absorb even a fraction of what is being presented, as well as becoming overstimulated and then detaching by distracting ourselves through screens and thoughts of the future or past. The next time you feel completely overwhelmed, take a look at your surroundings. Are you attempting to attend to multiple layers of stimuli at once? Are you trying to both complete a physical as well as mental task? One activity at a time, in fact, one sense at a time, is a revolutionary way in which we can begin to appreciate nuance, complexity and variety. I invite you to stop at the next green plant you meet and get to know it. My suspicion is that you will walk away with more understanding of the world than hours of electronic scrolling could ever afford.

Sacred Spiritual Growth

Decay and Rot: The Spiritual Life Cycle

“…Dreaming is nature naturing through us. Just as a tree bears fruit or a plant expresses itself in flowers, dreams are fruiting from us.” Toko-Pa Turner, Belonging: Remembering Ourselves Home, pg. 18

I’ve dipped my toes into paying more attention to my dreams and trying to understand what they represent for me. Buildings in the form of large complexes, giant Victorian houses, and opulent developments have pervaded my dreams for years. Most of them, though, are not in pristine condition. Instead, the walls are peeling, the roof is cracked open and the moldy floor creaks loudly. The destructive force is nearly always time and water; the structures have sat abandoned and flooded.

After dealing with actual water intrusion years ago, I took the dreams to be a near-flashback of those events. However, the persistence of the theme has caused me to take a deeper look at it. My therapist shared with me that water represents emotions. I’ve read elsewhere that buildings can represent the body or one’s inner life. It may be representative of my fear that my feelings roil me inwardly and threaten to bring things crashing down.

Rather than fixating on a conceptualization of my dream as symbolic of inner demons or self-neglect of my corporal state, I find myself opening instead to a desire to accept the decrepit state of the houses of my mind as a potentially necessary, vital aspect of life on a physical, emotional and spiritual plane. My early fundamentalist training would have rebelled at any mention that something which was not pure, clean and sturdy could be good, so that makes the examination more desirable to me as an act of defiance.

In current American society, we wield destruction as a battle axe. Want to construct a new building? Tear up the earth, hammer in dead trees, slap on some plastic and you’re done. There is little room for decay in this model as there is a pervasive focus on the new, best, fastest and strongest as the goal. My introduction to permaculture has lent me another model of planning, one which has at least elements of the slow and gentle.

These threads of dream and design have woven themselves together in my mind to create a tapestry of a spiritual life cycle. It holds a focus on ecology in that it allows for dissolution—things falling apart and losing integrity—as a key component. Our current cultural life cycle diagram is simply an arrow pointing straight up; we are pressed with the need to maintain the vigor, looks and future-promise mindedness of youth for our entire lives. We can always try harder. We can always look better. Things will always improve; negativity has no place in a mature spiritual life. These statements are false. One of the greatest takeaways I had from Toko-pa’s book is that I finally understand “feminine energy;” the perspective she offered is reconfiguring everything I thought would save me. Instead of striving, there are times where we can open. Instead of force, there are times where we can yield. Instead of progress, perhaps there is room for degeneration as a path to renewal.

The frayed, soiled and ripped edge of the spiritual life cycle fabric my Inner Being’s woven, when closely examined, appears as follows:

  • Sometimes it is okay to cease effort and to instead receive, open and listen for Source. We can rest, physically, emotionally and spiritually, without any expectation of the next step or where we are headed, in the bosom of Goddess.
  • There are times when things are going to completely fall apart. When resting isn’t enough because the water we drink springs right back out of us. Grief is a well into which we pour and from which we long to escape. If we instead allow ourselves to be there, and to be witnessed there, what initially rises to us tinged in sulfurous odors from which we recoil may eventually become a healing aroma.
  • Nature takes back what is Her’s through rot, mold and the curling of green after fall’s last warmth. She takes back to renew and reuse. We can become so concerned with maintaining our façade in clean lines and polished surfaces, refusing to acknowledge that something stinks in us. If we finally notice it, we snap into action and desire to cut it out at its root. The tree, though, when it sustains a wound, does not immediately start carving itself apart. Instead, it calluses off the infection, leaving the bugs and the water and the sun to soften and loosen the contagion from its core. What if we took the same approach to our “sins” by acting in acceptance of our humanity, our flaws, and our eventual collapse as a being? Perhaps we could respond by tenderly acknowledging where we lack, compassionately setting inner boundaries and then waiting in expectation for the ways in which life is going slowly tear from us whatever nails we think necessary to hold together the covering of our innermost needs in order to enlighten and fade the shadows we know we have.
  • We die. I came across a book titled “How Not to Die” and contemplated purchasing it until I realized the basic premise was flawed. We meet our end, at least physically. All our effort and determination to prevent it from happening are useless. I so deeply and desperately want, when that moment arrives, to say “welcome.” Because what else is there to say? If all the energy we’ve put into perfecting ourselves culminates in us ending, why not conserve some of it for facing the task of aging and diminishing? If we live a full life, we almost always stand to lose our independence, our vocation, possibly our wits and must grapple with the recognition of the unfairness of life. Some trees land as seeds in the sun near a river; they want for nothing. Others fall in the shade or dry spots and half-starve their whole lives. Even if our early life is filled with resources, eventually we decay and then we die. What a challenge to our bravery, to stop resisting what will be or is being taken from us with the passage of time, to stop viewing it as a theft or an obstacle we can overcome with bargaining and to instead hold open the door for it, noticing perhaps that the pallor of its shadow leaves us wiser and bolder.
  • What is spiritual decline and death? I assume we must face it, probably multiple times our lives. How can we allow for Goddess/Deity to work it out in us without striving for order before its time? I suspect that often, by the moment we notice what is happening, the roots of it are already interwoven through everything we hold onto and hold up as “the best way;” we set ourselves up for a painful displacement when we believe our current identities are perennial.
  • Spiritual decline can be gradual or fast, partial or total but is always a movement towards disorder and entropy. What once seemed righted and straight is now sloping and cracked. The luster has worn off; our practices show signs of use. We are no longer comforted by the beliefs and rituals that were once soothing. I’ve experienced this at least once on a significant level in my life when I abdicated my previous religion. What I’ve concluded is that my prior devotion was real and deep and that the unmaking of it was a necessity. We needn’t reinvent ourselves at a whim; life will let us know when it is time to shuffle the deck. Courage to me is the willingness to accept that we can outgrow the paradigm under which we’ve ordered ourselves and the tenacity to then step out into the unknown, untethered and uncertain as to which way is up.

If you’ve followed my blog for any length of time, you’ve seen that the majority of the images I use are nature photographs I’ve taken. The long winter has been a struggle for me as I found myself judging possible photos as “ugly” because they were pictures of dead or dying vegetation. I believe that these plants are unattractive to us, and, in contrast, that full blooms of flowers can lead us to weep because of the evolutionary importance of living floras to sustain us. After contemplating the nature of the low point on the spiritual life cycle, I want to advance beyond this biological bias to hone in on at least a type of loveliness in bent, brown stalks. From where else does new life arise but from the crumble of the formerly green?

Returning to my dreams, I am also struck by the fact that the buildings I create are being retaken not by inert and inorganic machinations but through a destruction spread by natural forces. The edifices of my life that I’ve so extravagantly decorated, are, despite their complexity, vulnerable. But what seeks to invade them is not a conquering force, instead, it comes for its own. We are natural beings and, to me, Nature is a spiritual entity. The tar, plastic and webbing of “information” we’ve constructed, as well as the facades of our bodies and spirits in perpetual youth that we’ve designed, form the infection. We can either allow Her to decay us as we need to be decayed, or we can continue to build what we see as impenetrable barricades—how not to die—all the while dying and dying again to future growth.