Reflections on 2012

The end of another year, and tomorrow we begin a new one. All in all, this has been a really positive year for me. Seems I’ve come home—without ever really understanding how far I had run from home. I’ve come home to my insides. I’ve come home to my spirituality. I’ve come home to everything I’ve run from…

I just remembered this poem I wrote a number of years ago, almost exactly seven years ago:

The Marathon Runner
December 13, 2005

Running

running hard and fast
not with the joy of a marathon runner
who runs for the life of running
but with fear, I run the “run away” running,
running until I can run no more.

The unholy marathon began at 4
when I began running from TrueSelf.
I ran from the friendly universe
from joy and play
from being a “Mama’s girl”
And I ran from trust—
either God or my Self.

And I continued running.
At 9 I began running from sexuality
at 10, from Christmas and the holidays
at 17 from my own choices
from adventure
from creating and “being” an artist.
At 19 I began running from marriage and commitment
At 35 I began running from this New Age,
this paradigm shift I’m destined to be a part of.

Then, at 40, something remarkable happened.
I began to slow down
and I made a turn,
albeit a small turn,
still I slowed down
and made a turn

and I began the long, hard journey home
home to God and home to my Self
home to my childhood
home to joy and play
home to the friendly universe
and home to being a “Mama’s girl”.

Am I there yet?
Am I here?

At 56, if I’m not home
at least I’m no longer running away.
I’m not even jogging anymore
I had slowed down and was walking
just walking
until I decided to hitch a ride
on an elephant.
I have climbed up on the elephant
of all my fearful running,
and now I am riding all the way home.

I wrote that when I was 56; I’m now 62. It’s been a number of years since I read that poem, but it is the story of my life, my fears, and my running. And yes, looking back at that poem, it seems I have come home this year. I have settled it within myself. I am a Christian, albeit it, a very different Christian than I was when I was 40. I don’t know quite as much anymore about everyone else. I’ve discovered that for me, the spirituality of Christianity has called me to attempt to follow Jesus more, not just to worship him. And it’s called for everything about me to change—every single cell, every microfiber. All my values and beliefs have been challenged. What’s left is mine, not what someone else taught me. I’ve learned to accept doubts (both mine and the doubts of others) as part of the equation, not to fear them or condemn them. I’ve learned to be curious, and questions are good. And I just might not ever have the answers, especially for someone else. I’ve learned more about the “wisdom tradition”, and developed more of a “panentheistic” (God IN everything) spirituality. I embrace evolutionary science, as well as evolutionary spirituality. And I know there are many, many paths home.

Finding my ground has been one of the best things about my “coming home”. The ground seems to have finally quit shaking and it seems I have found solid ground once more. My old wineskin broke, but I have a new container, and it seems flexible enough to hold all kinds of new thoughts, questions, ideas, theologies, etc. The Christianity I’ve discovered over the past few years is wide, open, big and glorious. Much thanks to my many, many teachers who’ve broadened and expanded my point of view.

Another good gift of coming home is that I didn’t have to run from the holidays this year. Something happened when my sisters in Grace Group prayed for me back in October, and the Ghost of Christmas past was set free. This has been a miraculous holiday season, with a deep sense of gratitude for all I have and all I’ve experienced. I know that might not seem as big as regaining my stable ground, but it’s huge for me.

As I look over this poem, and the past few years since I’ve written it, I am so grateful for my life, for my husband, my mother and children, for my friends, for my different communities (St. Timothy’s, 3rd Act and the Art League, my “love” ladies, Grace Group, Family Fitness, shoot, even Facebook!). Each one has added such a wonderful dimension to my life. Life is good, and every single part of it belongs.

Ceridwen, the Archetype

I love the old goddess myths and stories, especially the myths of the crone godesses. In Christian spirituality, she's the Black Madonna. In Celtic spirituality, she's Ceridwen.

I've been drawn to the Black Madonna for years, ever since I was introduced to her by Sue Monk Kidd, in her book Dance of the Dissident Daughter (gosh, has it really been 10 years???). I see her in the Christian Scriptures often; Shekinah, Sophia, and the maiden in The Song of Solomon in the Hebrew Scripture, as well as represented by Mary Magdalene in the New Testament. The Song's maiden and I have been intimately acquainted for nearly 20 years, and Mary Magdalene and I have walked together now for at least the last eight or so years.

Each of these women have an archetypal energy--and archetypal energies seek us out. We don't go looking for them, but they seek us and guide us and have a great affect on our lives.

And it seems that Ceridwen, pronounced Ker-RID-Wen, the Celtic Lady of the Lake is also a prominent archetypal energy in my life.

I discovered a wall sculpture of her a couple of years back and bought it simply because I was drawn to it. She was black and strong, her strong arms and legs encircling a great cauldron, and she was stirring the pot. Something inside of me moved when I first saw her, and I've learned to pay attention to those feelings inside.

I didn't know much about her then, and I still don't know much about her, except that her name and her story showed up on the Eve of Winter's Solstice this year--and that too caught my attention. Here's a little info I found on the internet:

* she, too, is a cauldron, which symbolizes wisdom, transformation, new birth, and creative inspiration.

* she is wise, powerful, resourceful, and she's a crone, associated with the moon, science, prophecy and poetry.

* she's past child-bearing years (a crone).

* it seems her one great weakness is interfering in her children's lives??? (o yeah???, me?, never!).

* and it seems she is the mother of Bards, Singers, Healers and Poets, in fact, one of the most honored Bards of the Middle Ages.

Since she showed up this year on the Eve of Winter's Solstice, I decided to honor her energy in my life and paint her.

It's sad that crone have been labeled "witches" and so dishonored. It's given all of us older women no place to go as we watch our lives be transformed. I'm grateful to Jung, Kidd, Bolen, Bourgeault, and so many others along the way who have taught me to welcome the crone energy, especially with it's shadow side. Their stories have taught me not to be afraid of darkness, to not be afraid of the inner journey (the journey into the abyss or the underworld), and to rest in the knowing that life changes, and to welcome those changes.

So, here's to Ceridwen, another "dark mother", who has helped me on my journey.

Blessed be.

The MaskMaker and the Shadow

Doing work with my SoulCollage® cards has been an important part of my wonderful Christmas Season this year. Christmas has been an unfavorite season for me for many years--dating all the way back to my 9th year. But the prayers of my Grace Group and the making of and dialoguing with cards has meant for me a break through this year. I'm very, very grateful. Nothing changed on the outside, but a lot has changed on the inside--maybe even a new birth.

I made this card a number of years ago, but it had a new message for me this morning. And part of that message included a new work I learned yesterday: "en-factuation". A friend of mine "made up" the word and shared it with me yesterday. It's a good word, best defined by "story".

If you'll notice in the upper right corner

...these old biddies are the "en-factorators". When one person "en-facts" another, they look at a person and cover that person with a story of their own making--they encase that person with their own "facts", and live their lives according to their own made up stories. They spoke to me this morning:

I am the "en-factorator". I am frozen in another time, another place, and another experience. I stand outside your time and space--outside your heart--and I believe my own story about your life. I have you imprisoned behind a curtain of shame. I have decided your fate, and I have whispered my story of your life to you, to myself, and to others, repeating as facts the lies I made up and calling them "true".

Then, there's the Shadow:


...and this morning she spoke to me, too:

I am the Shadow who lives behind that "curtain of shame", but what you've spoken about me, I refuse any longer to believe. I choose instead to stand on my own experience, my own knowledge and my own truth. I refuse to let your "story" about my life determine my identity any longer. I am free--free to color my own world, free to transform that curtain of shame into a window into the past, and free to be my own true Self. I am free to decide for myself who I am, and I choose to believe no longer the lies you tell about me.

And this morning, she turns her back on the MaskMaker, speaking: I will no longer put on a mask to protect myself or to please you. I choose to show my own true face and to choose my own name. And I will tell my own story based on what I know to be true.

As with dreams, I also know that each person on this card is a part of me. I am the "enfactuator"; I am the MaskMaker, and I am the Shadow, my own True Self, the really, real me, unfrozen by time and old stories, a person of color, bold and free.

I know I have "en-factuated" about others--it's hard not to look from the outside as if it's the inside and to "know" for certain I'm right about someone else. But the truth is, I can't know for certain all that's true about another, especially when I've enfactuated them from past experiences. People change--daily it seems. If I want sincere (pure) relationships, I must at least attempt to relate with people in the present moment. Seems that's part of 1 Corinthians 13's "love" chapter:

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud, it is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, IT KEEPS NO RECORD OF WRONGS. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. Love never fails."

Someone told me a number of years ago to "chew on this Scripture for a while". And I've been chewing ever since.

If I have ever en-factuated you, I apologize, and I ask for your forgiveness. Let's attempt to see each other with Love's eyes, at least for this very moment.

Have a great 2012!

Paradox Continued...

In my spiritual reading this year the word "Eros" has come up a lot--especially in Cynthia Bourgeault's book on Mary Magdalene and 5th Way love (or self-emptying love; self as in ego). And Eros plays a big part in Pitman McGeehee's book, Paradox of Love. I've been in discussion with some special friends, and we decided that we had to re-define Eros--McGeehee does a great job of that in his book.

But as I played around on my computer trying to find pictures of Eros, I came across the story of his birth--yes, I know. My knowledge of Greek mythology is very small, so everything I find is a treasure! I didn't know that Eros's mom was Aphrodite, the Greek Goddess of Love, nor did I know that his father was Aeros, the Greek God of War (mayhem and destruction--talk about PARADOX! Eros might well be defined as a child of conflicting feelings!

Whatever! I have learned through the years that conflicting feelings CAN BE creative, that light and dark can mix, that chaos can bring great beauty. When the dark gets really dark, and the world and its wars gets really tough, with enough space, something new can be born.

Perhaps that's another meaning of Christmas.

Love Is The Paradox

Day 2, Title Page, Love is a (cross that out!) The Paradox.

Art Journaling

(Now, why is this page NOT landscape???Grrrrrr....)

I've had a hankering to start a new art journal. Our 3rd Act Circle is going to do this very thing beginnin January, 2012, but it seems I can't wait. I have dreamed the last couple of mornings about The Paradox of Love, and art journaling, so I think I'll do a journal on "love", and it's many paradoxes. I might use Pittman McGehee's little book when I need a prompt, or I might see my own paradoxes during the day and decide to journal those. Whatever, I bought the journal, and I put my name in it. That's a start, and after all, that's the name of the game: Just begin!

(Maybe this is part of the paradox of love--you can't control things! Dammit!)