The Grandmother Shawl

 

For a while now I have been a little anxious about the idea that I will become “a little old lady”, eventually.   I lacked a clear vision of my role in my own life going forward into the future.    

I bought a shawl, because I liked it and it called to me.  A friend (who is a generation older than I) said it looked like a hug from a grandmother.  I agreed, but my mind responded, “and that would be me.”

I began to think about the image that I hold of the “little old lady,” the grandmother.  Not my grandmothers, nor my own mother but, the archetype, the Goddess as Grandmother.

I was surprised to discover that the image I hold is one that I find beautiful.  Yes, she is soft and round, yes, she is gray and pale, yes, she is not as strong or limber as a young woman but, she is also resilient, and steadfast.  She is comforting and loving and fierce. 

She knows herself, and how to hold space for those she loves.  She has wisdom born from personal experience and can offer sound guidance and support.  She knows how to listen and how to teach others to stand in their own power.  And she knows how to stand in hers.

She is not overtly sexual in the way that our society thinks of the sexual woman but, she has sexual power that arises from her understanding of her own desires and her lack of shame in enjoying the sensual, physical pleasure that she can offer to her lovers.  I had worried a little that my lovers might no longer feel sexual desire for me when I indeed become this “grandmother” but, I find this image to be intriguing and mysterious, and yes, desirable.  If I find this image desirable, I trust that they will as well.  the need for love is not exclusive to the young.  The gifts of love, sex, pleasure and healing are not only to be found in the young either.

So this shawl holds the vision, of the woman I am becoming, the woman I look forward to becoming, the woman I already am.  And I wrap it around myself when I need a hug from the Grandmother, or to embrace this vision of my future.  And I find it very comforting. 

Blessed Be. 

Queer

I have learned a lot about myself in the time since I began this exploration.  I began not knowing anything about where this journey would lead me.  The journey has had more than one unexpected turn and many uncomfortable and uneasy moments.  But I have indeed found a place where I know who I am and I am comfortable with all of who I am.

I have also discovered one word that feels right to describe my gender, sexuality and relationships.  Queer is not a word that the world at large would associate with me but, from my perspective, it is the one word that feels correct.

I am a cis-gendered female however; I do not feel that accurately describes my experience of gender.  Through this journey I have come to recognize that I have moments in my life when I prefer to express  female gender and times when I prefer to express male gender but, I no longer feel that binary definitions accurately express the truth of who I am. 

I am not truly hetero-normative in my sexuality either.  I have found that I am sexually drawn to people regardless of gender. My attraction is dependent upon the person and has no recognizable connection to any gender, or to defined gender.

I am polyamorous but in a structure that is not easily recognized.  I do not have primary or secondary relationships.  I do have committed relationships.  I love who I love, and I am committed to those whom I love.   I am loyal to those whom I love.  Each of my relationships is unique, as are each of my beloveds.  Gender, age, sexual identity, and sexual expression do not determine whom I love.

In my sexual expression, I am a switch.  I enjoy different experiences, many of which are seemingly contradictory, sometimes with the same partner.  I do not desire to be constrained by one role, or someone else’s narrow definition of any one form of expression.

Queer is a word that defies definition.  It is the one word that simply says “cannot be defined or constrained by definition.”   I like the word.  I claim the word.  It feels true, and more comfortable that any other.   I am queer and I am happy.

Changes...

I am 50 years old.  From my perspective, this is only the beginning of a stage in my life that I would like to look forward to with excitement and a sense of adventure.  But while I choose to be optimistic about the future, there are things about which I feel some trepidation.

 My body has changed a lot in the past year.  It no longer feels like the same body I have been living with my entire life.  It no longer feels like the body I had a year ago.  My bones have changed, my muscles have changed.  I see slight differences when I look in the mirror. I no longer have a sense of strength and confidence in my body’s ability to handle accidents, injury, illness, or digging out from snow storms.  And sometimes I wonder how and when my body will lose its desire for sexual expression, and when my lovers will lose their desire for me.  There are moments when I am afraid of getting older, and times when I am afraid that I will not have the time or the energy I need to do the things I desire to do in this lifetime.

I want to go forward into the next 43 years strong and fearless, but I will admit to moments of fear and I will admit to moments of feeling week and vulnerable.  Perhaps these moments exist to give me the opportunity to understand a point of view I have never had before…

some thoughts on Love

Love is the highest form of human expression that I can imagine.  To love is to express the highest form of my own humanity.  So how I love is an expression of my identity. 

How I love expresses my gender, my sexuality, my spirituality.  I believe that loving others is an essential part of my purpose in this lifetime…perhaps in every lifetime.

The ones that I love, my beloveds, are not all human, though most of them are.  The forms of love are as diverse as my beloveds.

My love for my companion (the feline with whom I share our home) takes the form of caring for his needs, and considering how my magick, or adventures, will affect him. If I will be gone from my home for any length of time, I need to arrange to have another person (whom he trusts) to care for him.  When I do magick for our home, I need to consider the impact upon his ability to journey (on the astral) and his feelings about who may enter our home (both seen and unseen).  I need to make time to spend with him cuddling and playing and of course providing him with a clean, warm and comfortable nest, clean water, good food and mental stimulation.  I care for his needs, for his wellbeing.  That is how I express my love for him.

My love for my children, coven-mates, human family and tribe takes the form of words and actions.  I tell my children that I love them, that they are valued, cherished, beautiful, talented, intelligent people.  I encourage them to follow their own hearts and to believe in themselves.  I support them in their own sovereignty.  I remind them that they can make decisions about their own lives and that they will have my support regardless of my agreement with those decisions.   I also try to teach them not to hide from their own power, not to fear taking risks not to fear making mistakes.  My love for them is not predicated upon the ideal of perfection. 

My love for my lovers is according to their needs and mine.  I love their strengths and their shadows.  I love them in their weakness and in mine.  And if one of us should make a mistake, it is forgiven.  Love is not earned.  Love does not require perfection.  Love is given and accepted in unequal measure beyond all reason.  There is no ledger to balance.  No accounting to make. 

If all I can do is to hold my loved one’s hand or listen to him breathe or purr, then that is what love will do.  If my beloved needs something from me, it is but theirs to ask. 

Love gives according to the need.  It loves the truth of the beloved.  Even love for self.  I cannot hate the weakness in myself if I am to love the weakness in my beloveds.  Love must allow for imperfection and strive for acceptance. 

I have learned only in these past few months what it means to be loved without fear, that I am loved beyond reason.  That making a mistake will not result in rejection and abandonment.  That being weak does not make me unworthy of loving or being loved.  I have learned to stop hating that part of me that is weak.  I have learned to reject the idea that perfection is required.

I am learning to love in truth.  Blessed be.

Panic

The people who love me want me to be happy.  I want to be happy.  Even more, I want the people I love to be happy.  My loved ones, for the most part, are normal people.  To them, wanting me to be happy means wanting me to be safe and cared for, by someone normal and nice, wanting me to have a normal relationship, so that I am not alone.  To that end I have been going out and meeting people.

This has resulted in my being exhausted and vulnerable and in an extreme state of weakness that resulted in a panic attack last night.  I rarely experience panic anymore but, in the past two months I have had two such experiences.  

I have experienced social anxiety for most of my life.  Meeting strangers, no matter how nice they are, is exhausting and stressful.   But meeting strangers, who are looking for something that I am incapable of giving, is so in the extreme.  Nice people that want something pull at me.  And no matter how hard I work at breaking the habit of “people-pleasing” when I am tired and not on my guard, I slip into the habit.  So I have been trying to please my loved ones and I have been trying to be nice to strangers and I have been feeling pulled at. 

Instead of listening to my own needs for solitude and withdrawal, I kept trying.  I was trying to do what my loved ones think I need to do.  To engage with others so that no one has to worry about me being alone and in pain.  But being in pain because I loved someone is something that I cannot and will not avoid by distracting myself with others.  I am not made that way.  I believe pain teaches and heartache is something humans recover from.

The experience has borne fruit, the panic attack notwithstanding.  A beloved was present as a voice in the night and I was reminded once again with empirical evidence that I am not alone.  And with that beloved's help, I re-discovered the shadow child and the behavior that triggered her into speaking so loudly.  Allowing myself to be pulled at by strangers.  Feeling guilt and self-judgment about being incapable of connecting with others.  Feeling guilt about not being able to make those I love happy because I feel differently about how to find happiness for my life.

I realize that my beloveds want me to be happy in whatever way I need.  They would not judge me.  I need to pay attention to what my internal committee tells me, what my heart tells me, even if that means being alone for a while to listen to the child, or to recover my balance, or to focus on my work.  Healing takes time and space.  Panic occurs when I feel trapped.  I will give myself space enough to hear. 

POETRY IS NOT MEANT TO BE POLITE

Before you read any further, understand that the warning at the entry to this blog is there for a reason.   Most of what I have shared here has been written as politely as I am capable of and still discuss the subject matter in question.  The poetry has been the most explicit, and that is because;  

POETRY IS NOT MEANT TO BE POLITE

It is meant to make you feel and respond, to think yes, but more than anything, to experience.  If I was to censor that mode of expression I might as well never write another word as long as I live.

That being said, I am done being polite.  I am done speaking gently so as not to upset anyone, or make anyone uncomfortable.  I am done being anything but brutally honest on this blog.  

This is my place to speak about things that I need to speak about.  This is my place to look at all of the stuff that anyone else would have me hide.  This is my place to explore my journey.

You are welcome to read and to comment as you please, provided you respect the privacy of others, but I will no longer be discrete in my choice of language nor in the subjects that I choose to explore.

I have finally taken the step out of the theory and intellectual exploration and into exploring and experimenting and experiencing in the real world.  

I have experienced a profound awakening and I choose to share those experiences and to explore the meaning I am finding within them here. 

If you do not want to know…don’t read this blog any further.  

I will not be offended by your choice. Go in peace and grace and blessed be on your journey.

If you choose to continue to read these posts, I thank you for your support and your company.  I hope that you may find something here worthy of your time and contemplation. Blessed be.

Boundaries

I have been exploring and experimenting lately.  I have been meeting new people and discussing the nature of desire, and I realized that one of the skills that I need to develop further is the ability to hold strong boundaries.  To see clearly what I desire and to distinguish that from what others may desire.

It is not only a need to communicate those desires, or to negotiate what I am willing to try, but to hold clarity about myself, and to respect my boundaries. 

I have spent most of my life, until recently, complying with the wishes of others.  “People-pleasing” is a habit.  I caught myself asking whether or not I could meet another’s desire, and deciding that, I could indeed accommodate their wishes. 

I realized in that moment that, I was asking the wrong questions.  I need to be asking myself, “What do I want?” and   "Is this person’s desire compatible with my own?”

I can no longer afford to compromise what I want, or my need for autonomy and independence, to fit someone else’s dream.  This journey must be about my dreams. 

In a conversation with someone who was trying to pick me up, and who I had no desire to accommodate, I heard a gem of wisdom.  “It's not about surrendering to another person but, to your own body’s experience.  It’s about your own energy being released, and about your own power to choose.”

In an experiment with a cherished and trusted friend, I discovered that it is indeed about surrendering to my own body, allowing my own energy to flow freely, and it is about my power. 

Choosing to submit to another, in that moment, and only for that moment, is a choice to express my own power and, in doing so, to remember that power. 

The choice is mine and the power is mine. I must be diligent to choose consciously, not through habitual pattern.  And I must be diligent not to sacrifice my strength but, to choose my own desires.

Visions of the Ideal Self

This past weekend I attended the Sacred Space Conference for the first time.  It was a wonderful experience and I have come away with much to process and integrate.  The tone of the conference was set for me in the first class that I attended, “The role of the Ego in Spiritual Evolution” with James Dickenson, a cherished friend and High Priest of my Tradition. 

I have never before had the opportunity to experience Jim as a teacher due to his living and serving more than 3 hours from where I live and I was looking forward to it with great anticipation.  I was not disappointed, Jim gave me much to consider.  He does not ask rhetorical questions but he does ask questions that make those present dig for the foundational beliefs they hold about the subject at hand. 

The answers offered by many helped me to be more aware of the diversity of thought on the subject and by noting my reactions to them I came to understand my own beliefs on the matter with more clarity.  James also offered his own position which he expressed with more grace than I am able to as yet but, which gave me an articulate model to refine my own.  I find it interesting that his expressed experience of the class was much more critical than mine.

In a nut-shell, the Ego is that self-aware part of us whose function it is to assist us in living up to our Ideal Self.  This exploration of identity is indeed a search to realize my ideal self, to refine and clarify it, and with the recent changes in my life I find I need to seek vision of who it is that I wish to become.

The classes and workshops and rituals I was able to attend, and the social interactions with beloveds as well as with new friends and acquaintances, taught me much about who I am and how I function and how those things might have changed over the past 48 years and how they might yet change as I step forward into an ever-changing vision of my Self.

Indeed I was granted visions of who I am to become.  Not flat images, but rather multi-dimensional experiences of who I am to be as a woman, priestess, lover, dreamer and human being.  

I give thanks for the teachers and beloveds and new friends who love me for who I am now, and who help me to see where I wish to go, and how I might get there, and who walk with me on the journey.

The Change

Fruits of the Crone by Brian Froud

It happened so quietly, like some ninja in black, slipping out the window onto the rooftop of the house, down to the yard and past the wall into the night, in some old black and white movie on Saturday morning when I was a kid.  When I woke this morning I realized it had left me and I had never noticed.  I can’t seem to remember when, just that it is gone now. 

Change happens to us all the time.  But when the first one happened, I noticed and I expected to be more aware of this one.  I was expecting it, I knew it would come but, I thought that I would notice somehow.  That there would be some sort of symptom to tell me that it had happened.

Fourteen years ago I conceived a child for the last time.  I miscarried six weeks later and the following week I allowed a surgeon to sever the pathway.  Conception would never again be possible.  I have regretted that decision and grieved for the loss.  But my body was never really aware of what my mind knew.  It did not change who I was.   This is different.

Even if it were still mechanically possible, my body has reached that state where it is no longer capable of creating or gestating life.  That possibility is really over.  And I have a choice to make.

I can grieve.  But I have already done that.  For years I did that.  It doesn’t feel right to grieve for this change.  It feels as though grieving would be saying that my life is over, that there is no reason for me to keep on living, that love and pleasure and joy are no longer possible for me, that I have no purpose and nothing to give or look forward to.  And this doesn’t feel like that to me.  That actually comes as quite a surprise for indeed, I expected that it would.

What this does feel like is a new life.  Like I have been reincarnated again, but with all of the knowledge and wisdom and understanding gained in the previous life intact.  Like I get to start over without having to start at the bottom of the staircase.  It feels like I spent my life until now climbing a tower to reach a door and now I have opened the doorway to find a new world, that the adventure is just beginning and I have lost nothing, like I can start the journey with all the tools I could possibly need and the knowledge of how to use them.

It seems so very strange but, it feels like a cause for celebration.  I give thanks for the change.

Desires

There are many facets to desire. Humans are complex and complicated beings. I do not believe that anyone is truly one dimensional in what attracts, excites and arouses them.  I have spent a good deal of time recently learning about many different ways that other people find that allusive jewel.  I have been reading about others’ experiences, discussing with others how the mystery of sexual desire functions for them, even asking questions and discussing ideas about which I am curious.

I have realized that my desires are not simple.  Sometimes they are conflicting even to the point of paradox.  And I am beginning to understand that is a paradox to be celebrated, a mystery to be enjoyed and explored.  I do not have to forsake any of my desires for any other.  I can explore each and every one of them in excruciating detail. 

I still have a very painful stutter when discussing some of the more extreme desires that I have yet to actually experience.  They are not my only desires, but the fact that I have such difficulty articulating them bestows them with immense power to my thinking.  That the simple act of giving voice to them, putting them into language, is such a struggle  (for one who loves words as much as I do) suggests a great deal of meaning and power.

Perhaps it is the fear of judgment, or the fear of being misunderstood.  Truth be told, some of those desires could be misinterpreted, and indeed have been by some of the people I love and respect.  Specifically the desire to submit to someone else’s will, either by acceptance or by physical “force”, seems to invoke in many the idea of being victimized.  The desire to explore pain or fire or blood, seems to invoke concerns about my mental and emotional health and physical safety. 

Perhaps it is the fear of those desires themselves that instills them with such power. Fear is an amazing and profound emotion and the source of great strength.  I have spent much time reading and learning and exploring intellectually, soon it will be time to actually go out and discover what it all might mean.  When I do, it might be in fear but, it will not be in shame.

Why?

Last night I was lying in bed and I couldn’t stop thinking about why?  Why do I feel so hateful towards nice people? Why does it make me so angry when someone says “I love you.” or “You are beautiful.”?    Why do I react with such rage when people are weak, or needy, or identify as victims?  Why do I immediately assume that they are liars? That they cannot be trusted, that they are trying to manipulate, that they want something?

When someone I do not know well says “I love you.” my mind screams “You don’t even know me!”  When someone seems too nice, too gentle, I wonder what they are hiding.  When someone seems too needy, I wonder what their ulterior motives are, how they are trying to manipulate me, or someone else.

I prefer people who push me, because I can push back, or not, as I choose. 

When someone pretends to be nothing but nice, and I do not want to comply by giving them what they want, they always seem to want to place blame and guilt.  “I am so nice.  You should want to give me what I am asking for.” “What is wrong with you that you don’t want to be kind and loving towards someone as nice, weak, needy, hurt, gentle, victimized as me?”

I get to decide how I feel and how I want to express those feelings.  Just because you are a “nice” person does not give you the right to decide how I should treat you. (Obviously every human and non-human deserves to be treated with respect but, I don’t have to like you or give you any part of myself.) I have the right to listen to my own inner voice.

My reactions to those people may be a little extreme but they are also perfectly valid, and I have finally figured out the reason why.   

The person who seduced me for the first time (when I was nine years old) did so by telling me that they loved me, that they needed me, that I was beautiful.  They did so by showing me weakness and gentleness.  And they did so by making me feel guilty for not wanting to love them the way they were asking me to.  They did not push me, they pulled at me. 

I still feel some rage at myself for being so vulnerable to those tactics and so easily manipulated.  And at people who pull at me in that same way. 

I may not have figured out how not to feel this way but, awareness and understanding of these reactions is certainly a good place to begin.

some thoughts on Autonomy

I have conflicting feelings about relationships.  I want very much to fall in love some day.  I believe in love and in sharing your heart with others. I did mention that I am a romantic, didn’t I?  I like having someone to whom to say “Good Morning!” and “Good Night” and “How was your day?”  I like sharing meals sometimes and sharing a bed sometimes.  I enjoy physical and emotional intimacy and intellectual conversation, the sharing of ideas, hopes, dreams, energy, magick and the experiences of this life. I believe that we as a species are not meant to be completely solitary creatures.

But having a place of my own, having time to myself, having the quiet and solitude that I need to think, to dream, to work magick and to write, is necessary for me and I have worked very hard to attain my independence.  I do not want to sacrifice my time alone or to negotiate with someone else to have time and privacy.  I do not want to check with someone else before going to the lake at night to sit beneath the moon or to make plans to sit and talk with someone whom I love who might need my support.

I want a lover in my life…maybe more than one, maybe not.  I believe that relationships should be based on love, respect and a commitment to show up when your beloveds need you. But I do not believe that it is necessary to live with another, to tailor your lives to revolve around each other to the exclusion of your own autonomy.

The image I have of the love I desire is not the one most people assume when they think of a relationship.  But it is the one that fills me with warmth and hope.  It is the thing I long for, still.  I hope someday to be granted the gift of loving another without reservation, without censorship, without restraint and without sacrificing my autonomy.

exploring the dreams...

There was a moment during my second degree initiation ritual when the Dark God, the Sage, placed his hands around my neck.  He held me there, for what seemed like forever.  Thinking back on it now, it may have been the only time during most of the ritual when I was in contact with anyone but the house. 

The reason I mention this is, that moment caused some unexpected reactions.  It was intended to frighten me, to elicit an adrenaline spike, to heighten my senses.  Adrenaline can become any emotion that a human being is capable of experiencing.  That was the intended result.  And it was successful in that it did result in the release of adrenaline; it did heighten my perceptions. 

But that was not the only result.  I also became sexually aroused.  I have only spoken about this with one other person until now because, I find it rather disturbing.  My mind tells me that reaction was inappropriate.  There was nothing inherently sexual about the ritual.  That I reacted that way is confusing to me, being someone for whom sexual arousal is a rather rare occurrence, at least until recently.

But my body keeps reminding my mind of that moment, of that reaction.  I keep coming back to that moment and to that feeling.  In my most erotic dreams, there is a hand at my throat.  It is usually the hand of someone I trust and it is never threatening but it is always arousing.

Other images and sensations reoccur often as well, a blade piercing my skin, a trickle of blood, my back against a wall.  My logical mind, the one that tells me to conform to the rules, tells me that this is an aberration.  But do any rules really apply when it comes to the instinct of sexual arousal?   I feel a bit exposed revealing these thoughts.  That I find these ideas to be more arousing than frightening seems to me to be the kind of thing one keeps to oneself for fear or shame.  But I vowed that I would not look away and so I will not. 

I will continue to explore the images and the dreams.  There is more to explore in the inner world before stepping out into the real world.  

the problem with conformity...

At first, the title of this post was going to be “the problem with feminism”.  But I am a feminist and that is not truly the problem.  The problem is that other feminists believe that they get to define “feminist” for me, and that somehow I should be ashamed because I do not conform to the definitions others hold. 

I could not care less about the opinions of anti-feminists.  Of people who hold beliefs that are directly opposed to my own.  I came to terms with that when I left the spiritual community in which I had lived in the years I refer to as “wandering the wasteland”.

But the expectations of others whom I would consider to be allies, culturally and spiritually, the opinions or expectations of my “sisters” I struggle with, and against, because who I am does not conform to what is expected of me.

I am a girl.  Yes, even as a forty-eight year old woman.  I like dresses and flowers and perfume and lipstick.  I like beautiful things.  I like feeling beautiful. I enjoy being desired.  I am a romantic and a mother and I enjoy being so.  I have never objected to dolls or the princesses from my childhood storybooks. 

I do not want to be limited by someone else’s idea of who I should be.  I am strong; I don’t need to prove it.  It has never been in question in my mind.  I am brave; I don’t have to shout it.  I am strongest and bravest when I am so for the sake of those I love.  I have never seen serving others as oppression.  It is one of the most fulfilling purposes of my life.

I enjoy caring for others.  I take great pleasure in meeting someone else's needs.  I take great satisfaction in loving others.  It gives me great joy to make others happy.  Loving someone, without censorship, without restraint, without reservation, is a gift I hope to someday be granted. 

I like being in the woods and not needing to be coddled but, I am a hedonist in many ways and I do not wish to apologize for the desires of my heart.  They do not make me weak or less of a woman.  I will not conform to the opinions or expectations of those whose agenda is opposed to my own but; neither will I be shamed by the expectations of my allies.

I am woman enough just as I am.  Take it or leave it but, you will not change it.  I will not conform to please another but, I may choose to please another and that is my choice.  No one gets to take that choice from me.