Confiding on Conferences

I think attending conferences may be the most important thing one can do for personal growth. Occupational conferences provide the latest information, technology and theory in one’s professional field. Conferences associated with a hobby or special interest spark creativity. Religious conferences can deepen one’s faith and provide enlightenment. However, for me, I think the most important aspect of the conference environment (and the one aspect all conferences have in common) is that it allows me to connect with other people who share something with me; whether that connection is through my occupation, special interest or religion.

At nearly every conference I have attended, my mind has been blown wide open with new information. Or maybe some elusive concept suddenly comes sharply into focus with profound understanding. There is always something new to be learned, even if you are considered an expert in your field or a guru of your faith. A conference brings me together with like-minded people who can impart to me their unique and individual perspective towards that passion which we share. A conference is intensive, and creative education intensified by human connection.

Particularly after attending Paganicon in Minneapolis this March, I’m going as far as to say that in my opinion, no one has any business being an educator or mentor if they don’t attend some sort of conference every few years or so. In fact, someone truly devoted to their work, special interest or faith maybe should be trying to attend as many conferences as they can afford. I think that a true passion deserves true devotion.

One of the best examples I can offer as a demonstration of the importance of conferences came from performer Kari Tauring in her Nordic Roots Workshop at Paganicon.

Ms. Tauring is devoted to her Norwegian heritage. She has spent a considerable amount of time researching the indigenous faith practices of the Norwegian people. She believes that religious faith is centered in the music, dances and folklore of the people. Most of her workshop was spent trying to teach a lot of us awkward pagans how to dance like a Viking. It went far deeper than dipping and shuffling our feet - we were making the Scandinavian runes with our own bodies as we danced. Once I let go of whether I was bending my knees at the right time, the act of becoming Mannaz, the rune for community, by being in community, solidified the meaning of this magic symbol for me in a way that goes far beyond words or language.

Ms. Tauring really rocked my spiritual world though with her simple translation of a basic divination with Runes – the three Rune draw. She explained that each of those three Runes correlates to each of the three Norns of Scandinavian mythology. The Norns have the responsibility for the Wyrd, which translates most closely to “fate.” Urd is represented by the first Rune draw, Her responsibility is that of the past, what once was. Verdandi is represented by the second Rune which is commonly associated with the present, but according to Ms. Tauring, Her responsibility is really over “that which is becoming.” Most people assume (incorrectly) that the third Rune, in the basic three Rune draw represents the future, but Skuld, the final Norn has a responsibility that isn’t quite that easy to articulate. Really what the great Skuld governs is something akin to “that which is likely.” She represents what is most probable given what was, and what is becoming.

Ms. Tauring then related the Norns concepts to heritage as a whole. She related that if you spend time studying where you came from, you can more easily predict what you might become; but more importantly, if you don’t like that direction, you can arm yourself with the tools to change it.

I have had many spiritual teachers who have stressed the importance of reverence of one’s own ancestors as a cornerstone of pagan faith practice. I was told time and time again to make space in my home for an ancestor alter and make daily offerings to these dead people. I didn’t just disagree with my teachers, this idea that my faith depended on my ancestors made me profoundly angry. I have done extensive research on my family history. Trust me when I tell you, none of these miserable, abusive alcoholics belong on an alter of any kind. I will not honor such lives. Their values do not in any way correspond to the kind of person I am or hope to become.

Time and time again I was admonished for my refusal to clear space for my family alter. I repeatedly demanded to know why my faith rested on my ancestors. I was never given a satisfactory answer. Ms. Tauring, however, finally made everything expressly clear. Many, if not most of the living family that I still have continues down a path of misery, addiction and abuse…there is at least one person who is veering from that path – she who keeps the records and knows the past – that one person is me. There is a new branch on my family tree, one that is strong and healthy, one that smiles and laughs and finds hope. My son will not be an alcoholic. He will not abuse his wife or his children. He will not because he knows his past and his path. Ms. Tauring gave me the answer I needed: Know your legacy, know yourself - know your power.

Still not ever going to have an ancestor alter. My faith is quite strong without one, thanks.

While I may have been ambiguous about my feelings towards ancestor reverence, I did not think I had any ambiguity when it came to the Underworld. I was so sure that I knew death. Well, really, it is beyond the scope of the human mind to fully know the mysteries of death and the Underworld; but I did think I had some rather meaningful understanding. I have after all, been dead, more than once in this lifetime (You can read about my death in The Day I Died).  That and my devotion to the Queen of the Underworld, Persephone, made me think I had acquired a working knowledge of the Underworld and death. However, Michelle Belanger’s Underworld Meditation, Rite of Seven Gates left me speechless.

I was so profoundly moved by the experience that it took several hours before I resumed to my chatty nature. I did however, manage to ask Ms. Belanger one question. “How do I continue this type of work?” I grunted. It was so difficult to get those words out of my mouth I do hope she did not find me morose and rude. She was hesitant to recommend her own book on the subject but I emphatically pressed her to do that very thing. It was her meditation that had touched me so deeply that it altered my consciousness and my very nature. She clearly had something to say, and although I didn’t know it at the time I chose her meditation from the conference schedule, I realized that it was exactly what I was craving to learn. Michelle Belanger showed me a new perspective on a landscape I was so sure that I knew so well. I learned that it is only when I open myself to experience something new in what is so familiar, that I truly grow. A conference is a surefire way to that experience. I bought Ms. Belanger’s book, Walking the Twilight Path, at the Paganicon conference and I had her autograph it. I am dying to read it…and yes that bad pun was intended.

Not all things at a conference need to be so intense. Even though I had neglected to bring one of my own elaborate costumes for the ball, I went anyway in a plain black dress. I enjoy marveling at other people’s creativity in costuming as much as I enjoy making and wearing my own, and maybe perhaps more so. People are so fascinating to me, I have a hard time designating anyone as “ugly” because all I see is beauty when I look at people. Particularly in a costume ball setting where people are putting all of their creativity and everything that they like about themselves to the forefront.
 

And the band! The band was so good. The Nathaniel Johnstone Band teams Steampunk with Greek Mythology. Gods! What is not to love?

I studied dance for many years. I know several different styles. Nathaniel Johnstone had me combine them all and whip my new bob haircut around with reckless abandon. I drew considerable attention to myself…whether it was positive or negative attention really matters little. It was the abandon that was important. I’m now an avid fan of this band (also purchased an autographed CD, thank you very much). Had I not jumped in with both feet and attended Paganicon, and then made myself go to the ball without a costume, I would never have known about them and the joy they have to give to their audience.

I was nervous about attending Paganicon. I was mostly attending because I had bravely submitted Accidental Talismans for programming consideration, and to my great anxiety I had been accepted. My room was filled, all of my handouts were taken, and several people gave me compliments about the affect my work made upon them. Yes! I learned so much from the workshops I attended, but I also learned something during the workshop I presented: my passion has relevance.

Conferences are where like-minds meet to share relevance. 

The next conference I’m attending (I’m not presenting at this one) is in my home city of Chicago. My son and I are super fans of the CW Television show Supernatural (now in its 12 season). We are going to go meet the actors who play our fictional heroes. I’m not disclosing the amount of the tickets. The money spent isn’t what is relevant. But trust me on this, this Supernatural Conference? It isn’t just relevant, it’s significant. And I can’t wait to attend.

Animal Spirit Guides of the Chakra

In 1996 I was a student at the University of Arizona. As a part of my Musical Theatre Major one of the art requirements I needed for my degree was fulfilled by a brilliant class titled Human Movement in the Arts which was taught by Dr. John Wilson. During one section we were introduced to the practice of “totemism” in a religious societal context. Totemism is defined as a human belief construct where a human group identifies as having kinship with non-human animals or in some cases plants. After the fascinating lecture, Dr. Wilson mentioned that he had been introduced to a New Age form of totemism that he described as the Personal Totem Pole. As he explained it, the Personal Totem Pole blended the indigenous practice of totemism with the eastern construct of the chakras system. In a guided meditation, you met an animal (what I later defined as a Spirit Animal) which was associated with each of the seven main chakras. The animals would sometimes speak and often would give insightful messages. Dr. Wilson offered to arrange for an extracurricular workshop for students who were interested. Dr. Wilson was one of my favorite professors, and this had been one of my favorite lectures, so of course I was going to attend.

The meditation was simple: my fellow students and I were to lie down and be comfortable, close our eyes, and breathe deep. Once that was achieved, in our minds’ eyes we were to go to what the guest lecturer called a Temenos – a safe and sacred space. We were then invited to wait for an animal in this space. If one appeared we were to ask three questions. The first, “What is your name?” The second, “What is your message for me?” And the final question, “Will you come again if I call?”

I had a very powerful experience. I had never been exposed to meditation before this day in 1996. I was so completely in awe of this experience that the animals and meditating with them became the beginning of my spiritual path. My seven chakra animals became my primary spiritual connection. While I do worship The Goddess Diana and the Goddess Persephone now, my Spirit Animals remain as a cornerstone of my spiritual life and devotion. I now have an alter dedicated just to them.

My Animal Alter which I share with my son

Decades later I was determined to find the source of the Personal Totem Pole that continues to be such a source of strength for me. I learned that the Personal Totem Pole was envisioned by Dr. Eligio Stephen Gallegos during the course of his innovative and imaginative work in psychotherapy. It would seem that Dr. Gallegos pulled elements from Eastern, Western and Ancient religious practices and combined them with his training of Psychotherapy. The chakras were first discussed in India, although similar energetic vortexes of power have been discussed throughout the ages in the Chinese culture and also some Native American cultures. There was also the discovery of Otzi, the 5,300 year old Iceman found near the border of Austria that had extensive tattoos of what appeared uncannily similar to the Chinese meridian system; which suggests an ancient Western culture might have been making use of an energetic body belief structure as well. The word Tamenos is Greek and is generally said to mean a piece of land - a sacred grove or precinct of the king. And the iconic Totem Pole is indigenous to the Tlingit Native American Tribe. The blending of cultures is the very definition of modern New Age Spirituality. It would seem though, that Dr. Gallegos utilizes the Personal Totem Pole more in a therapeutic context rather than spiritual. While my personal journey with the animals of the chakras was a catalyst for personal growth and inner discovery, for me it touched something deeper than my psyche – for me, it reached the depths of my soul.

I was born and raised in Flagstaff, Arizona which is the home to the San Francisco Peaks, a mountain range that is sacred to the Native American Hopi tribe. Despite a commercial ski resort taking residence there, it is a most holy place. Though I am not Native American, I grew up surrounded by this ancient culture. After I earned my driver’s license, when I was feeling restless or lost I would drive up the mountain to a place called Hart Prairie, where I would sit on a boulder and watch the Arizona sun set. This was the first Tamenos I chose for the Personal Totem Pole journey. In my Tamenos, the first animal that came to me in Muldahara, the root chakra, was an owl – a gigantic great horned owl, with a wing span of at least six feet. When I asked his name he puffed out his chest and shook his head and all of his feathers making a strange guttural sound I have difficulty replicating. As best as I can offer, he addressed himself as Urru. He perched on a branch of a tree and leaned in so close to my face that his beak nearly touched my nose.

“Who are you?” he asked me in cliché owl-like fashion. He did not mean simply my name.

I am a very stubborn person, and I like things to fall into neat ordered packages. So as I continued on my Personal Totem Pole journey, I was very determined to meet animals that belonged on the San Francisco Peaks where I had chosen to be. An animal came out of a bunch of aspens and I decided that it was a deer because that would make sense (and that would be a nice and tidy package). But as the poor thing wobbled out it started stretching like silly putty. Its eyes bulged and shrank, with its snout doing the same - then like a chewing gum bubble bursting, it “popped” into a kangaroo of all things. Her name was Outla.

“Have fun and don’t be so grumpy all the time,” she said. Sage advice of which I still need reminding.

Outla was also pretty firm about something else. When I asked her if she would come again if I called she answered no. She would only come if I called her to share my joy with her. I did not know it at the time but the Sanskrit meaning of lower abdomen chakra, Svadhisthana, is sweetness. Outla wanted that for me and she wanted to savor that delight with me.

Since kangaroos have no business in Arizona mountains, my stubborn brain simply started changing the location of the Tamenos to accommodate more animals. So instead of the peaks, my spiritual journey continued by suddenly changing to my tiny studio apartment where I lived in Tucson at the time of this journey. Only in my mind’s eye, a sleek black tomcat was meowing at the door. When I opened it he just strolled right on in like he was the king of the castle.

“Got milk?” he said.

I retrieved some milk from the refrigerator and dutifully followed the instructions of the guest lecturer to ask my questions. “What is your name?” I asked this cat.

“I have one, but I’m not going to tell you what it is,” he said, lapping up the milk. “You can call me Trickster for now.”

When I proceeded with the next question he transformed into a vicious panther who leapt on top of me and pinned me to the ground with one massive paw. “You are afraid of the dark,” he said. “You must find out why. Search your soul.”

The solar plexus chakra is called Manipura and is known to be a power house of energy. I have always thought it interesting that my particular battery seems to be fear.

He laughed when I asked him if he would return to me if I called to him. “If you dare,” he said.

The next animal of the heart chakra, Anahata, took me back to my childhood home in Flagstaff, Arizona. We had a maple tree in the front yard there. In my journey a little chipmunk was sitting in the branches. “My name is Ree, like Yes-sir-ee!” He said. This little guy was pretty excited. The only thing that I got out of him after his cute introduction was “Gift! Gift! Gift!”

After that, my location changed again (I’m more than a little stubborn and perhaps more than a little fickle). While exploring the throat chakra, Vishuddha, I didn’t recognize the place as somewhere I had been nor have been to anything even remotely like it since this journey - except to go there in my mind. I was in a pool of water, in the water itself, under the surface. I felt calm and safe and perhaps able to breathe, or just sure of myself that I had enough air to relax. An animal came up underneath me and took me for a ride on its back. It felt like we were dancing together under the water. The being was as large as myself, so I had difficulty figuring out what it was. It was not a crocodile, it had lovely soft fur. Then a feeling of delight and joy flooded through me. This was an otter. A giant otter! I thought this was a being of my imagination, but it just so happens Giant River Otters in South American can reach up to six feet.

His name was Sampson and he told me, “Something must be done.”

I didn’t think I had any affinity with otters, but I just adore them after meeting Sampson. He kissed me before we said goodbye. I could even feel his whiskers tickle my cheeks.

When I continued my journey I climbed out of Sampson’s pool. It was surrounded by a rock wall and I began to climb. I climbed some more. It resembled a place I had once gone rock climbing with the roommate I had had my sophomore year, but it was different. I was climbing a very long way into the sky. Finally when I reached a plateau, I was greeted by a large gray wolf. There were pups roaming about and when I sat down to rest from my climb the pups scampered up to me and wanted to sit in my lap. But the Alpha male who had greeted me silently when I had arrived, took each pup out of my lap.

He was The Watcher and his message was “Focus.”

The Watcher let me know that he was not at my beck and call. He would appear when I least expected him. Anja, the third eye chakra is the gateway to wisdom. The Watcher insists that focus is my pathway there.

My journey circled back around to where I had begun. I found myself in my first chosen Tamenos again, sitting on my rock in Harts Prairie on the San Francisco Peaks. I was watching the sunset waiting for my final animal, the animal of the crown chakra, Sahasrara. Then I realized that there was something in the sky. It was flying…no…it was moving in a looping pattern, with a long serpentine tail. It was deep red in color…and…were those scales?

“Absolutely not!” my mind snapped. I would not under any circumstances accept an animal that did not exist! “There are no such things as dragons!”

The thing then fell from the sky and dropped it front of me. A misty circle formed around it as the thing shimmered inside. Finally a green and gold cobra emerged as if from a cocoon. It was three times the size of myself, and when it lifted its head, it moved gracefully from side to side at least a foot above my own. This form might have been a little more realistic, but my profound dislike of snakes made it extremely difficult for me to stay within the journey.

“I am Sirke,” she said. “We are the most connected of all.”

For the final part of the journey we were giving one more task. I took the guest lecturer’s instruction quite literally and in my mind I began gathering wood and built a bonfire as the sun went down in my Tamenos. But the task was actually to call to the animals, to gather them all together for a formal parting and to give them thanks for their messages. Sirke, Trickster and The Watcher sat together. Urru was sitting in his tree. Ree had scampered up my arm to sit on my shoulder while Sampson sat next to me on my right. Outla had decided to attend but she sat by herself apart from all the others.

I have never forgotten this journey, as I said, it became a cornerstone of my spiritual practice. I continue to ponder the messages of my Spirit Animals and I meditate and dream with them often. Part of the reason the experience was so powerful for me was the realization that these animals were clearly a part of me. I believed without a shadow of a doubt that they were my guardians from the day of my birth and that they would have been with me anyway, regardless of whether I happened upon the work of Dr. Wilson or Dr. Gallegos. I knew it because I had dreamed of The Watcher years before my Personal Totem Pole journey.

As I was processing my journey, I suddenly had a flashback to high school. I was in my dreaded English class; dreaded because it was so dreadfully boring. It was the day after Halloween and I was exhausted from the night before. I had been out late with my dear friend John, we had dressed in costume and had been accosting trick-or-treaters with toothbrushes. I thought it was hilariously funny and well worth losing sleep for school. The dry English teacher had put on some film about linguistics and I had drifted off in sleep. I had dreamed that I was walking in an alley. A gate swung open and there was a large gray wolf. It bared his teeth and snarled. In the dream I was paralyzed with terror as the beast leapt from the gate and tackled me. Before it could devour me, I woke up and slammed my hands on my desk, startling the whole of the English class. The Watcher was already reminding me to focus when I was sixteen year old. He was with me. He was real.

One of my animals made a point to show me just how “real” they all were. Two years later after Dr. Wilson’s extracurricular lecture, Urru manifested in feather and flesh for me. I was visiting my parents after my graduation from the University of Arizona, and I had driven to Hart Prairie and was sitting on my rock watching the sun set. I was contemplating leaving Arizona to move to Chicago. It was a big risk, I knew absolutely no one there, and I would be leaving my family for the unknown. There was more, I had met someone; someone I believed was my soul mate. This person would not come with me to Chicago, so I had to choose.

I took a breath of the crisp mountain air and I asked of this sacred place, “Should I go to Chicago?”

And then, Urru (who I originally believed to be too big to be real) swooped down from the aspens but mere feet in front of me. This owl was so huge, he could have chosen me for his dinner! I had my sign. It was Urru, asking his question again, “Who are you?”

My destiny and my future self was waiting in Chicago. I have a tattoo in a very typical place on the small of my back, not too far from the root chakra, Muldahara. It is of a great horned owl in hunting flight. It reminds me to remember Urru’s question and urges me to seek my destiny.

There were other manifestations of the realness and the truth of my experience. Both Dr. Wilson and the guest lecturer were delighted when I related to them my meeting with Trickster. A totem pole created by the Tlingit tribe nearly always has a Trickster spirit in residence. Mine had just clearly articulated who he was. We had not discussed the individual animal totems on the Tlingit totem poles in Dr. Wilson’s lecture nor had we discussed their roles or the significance of their positions. I had no prior knowledge of the significance of the totem pole trickster – and yet I had a Trickster Spirit.

My Spirit Animal’s messages are still so significant in the present life I am living right now. I had no idea what to make of my chimpmunk Ree’s message at the time of my journey but I think I know now. Anahata, the heart chakra, is the source of not only compassion and love, but joy as well. Especially in these recent winter months, I have been receiving the message over and over again to follow my own heart. I put aside the skills and gifts I was given in an attempt to secure my future. I think Ree was trying very hard to tell me that were I to share my gifts, my future would be not only sure but joyful as well.

And speaking of putting aside those gifts, I had a dream several years ago, after I had moved to Chicago. A terrible man was beating a Giant Otter and the beautiful creature was in terrible pain. I wonder now if Samson was trying to remind me of his message. The Throat Chakra, Vishuddha, is the seat of communication – of voice – and at the time of the dream, I had stopped singing.

1996 was a very long time ago. I have had a large portion of time to consider Sirke and her message. Not long after my Personal Totem pole journey I was working on a college paper inside the studio apartment I had then in 1996. My mind was wandering from my work so I took a break and I looked around the whole of the room. Two crystal dragons, gifts from two different people dangled in the window. A card I got in the mail was posted on the refrigerator because I loved the picture of the flaming red dragon. A journal was lying on my desk. It was embossed with a dragon - a gift from a friend.

“I saw this and thought of you,” was what they had all said when they had given me those dragons.

I knew then Sirke’s true form. What does it mean to be connected to a dragon? Because whether I like it or not, Dragon she is. I wonder if our connection means that I am an imaginative person, or perhaps my head is too far in the clouds. Or perhaps I am more ferocious and capable than I think…or perhaps all of the above. I have continued my journey with her and the others since 1996. Messages are simply the starting point, there is always more knowledge to follow after a message and I am still learning and journeying.

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For More information on The Personal Totem Pole Journey:

Visit the Website of Dr. Eligio Stephen Gallegos

You can also read about his work in psychotherapy with this technique:
The Personal Totem Pole, Animals of the Four Windows, and Into Wholeness: The Path of Deep Imagery

For more resources on Animal Spirit Guides:

I highly recommend Animal Speak by Ted Andrews

The Pleasure Path

Two weeks before New Year’s Eve I was in the grocery store and I made sure to grab a package of black eyed peas while they were in stock. My son and I have an established tradition at our house. I make Mice and Beans, we drink champagne, we state one resolution and then we stay up until midnight to greet the brand new year. The champagne is sparkling grape juice. The Mice and Beans is actually Hoppin’ John a dish made with black eyed peas because my mother and Martha Stewart say that they bring you luck for the New Year. My son doesn’t remember why we call it Mice and Beans, but when he was little we read about Skippy John, a Siamese cat that had an adventure to Mexico in his magic closet. He met some Chihuahuas who asked him if he liked rice and beans. Skippy John responded “Si! I love Mice and Beans!” Because he’s a cat…not a Chihuahua. Anyway, I held those black eyed peas in my hand for several minutes remembering Skippy John Jones. I won’t ever forget that silly cat even though my son doesn’t remember that story anymore.

I was laughing outright as I tossed those peas into my cart. Then it hit me – by the Gods I was laughing! With reckless abandon in a grocery store filled with people who might be judging me! What the heck was going on? I was actually happy.

Sadly, that’s really not my default setting. I really like to simmer in my sadness and delve into my despondency. I live to mourn my life.

Singing along to the Christmas Carols in that grocery store I started to ponder if maybe there was a different route to consider. I went home and I began working on a project to reflect on 2016. I wanted to know precisely what made me unhappy. Although, I knew that if I really wanted to make a change – that is if I wanted to keep this mysterious mirthful mood – what might be even more important was to consider what made me happy.

Research in behavioral science has suggested that there seems to be an evolutionary factor for why it is easier to remember the worst things that happen, rather than the good things. It stands to reason that if something can kill you, you might want the memory of that permanently etched on the back of your eyelids. But if I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s how easily mired I can become with all that negativity. Really, most of the things I carry with me looming like a dark cloud over my head, while uncomfortable, are not really environmental threats to my survival. Yes, I wanted to learn and grow from the mistakes I made in 2016, but really the burning question I had was, “What makes me happy?” I couldn’t necessarily find that by reliving my failures.

Then, I was sifting through blogs on Tumblr and came across a post by TheCrownedCrow. It was a divination challenge to create a personal map for 2017 in order to help you realize your goals. Although I knew I’d probably be the only geomancer in the challenge, I was hooked. Particularly when I read the seeking question for day 2: The New Year also brings a moment of reflection. What is something I learned in the previous year that will help me grow in this one? That is the beauty of geomancy. There’s very little about it that’s cryptic. Geomancy says, “Look right here for your answer.” I already had the memory project well underway. All I had to do was roll my geomancy dice, and cast the house chart. A repeat of the first symbol would tell me exactly what memory would be the most helpful to focus on! Part of me thought that it would lead to a particularly painful lesson I endured in 2016, if I could master that it would be the key to lasting happiness in 2017! But my dice had a different tale to tell.

The first figure was Via or Way, I often interpret this as path or road. I was very pleased to see this figure. This was going to be an interesting reading. I cast the chart, and Via reappeared in none other than the House of Children. The Fifth Astrological House can represent actual growing children, but it also uses the concept of children as a metaphor. Children are strongly motivated by pleasure, so in a geomantic reading, the symbol in the fifth house also represents things that refer to pleasure. So, the key to my growth in 2017? It was to look at what makes me happy. I must look at everything that brought me a semblance of joy in 2016 and instead of collecting negativity to loom over me, I needed to draw my positive experiences with me into 2017.

I’m so obsessed with my work with Accidental Talismans and getting rid of things, I had never really taken the time to consider what things are important to keep. The key to my growth was waiting for me in those treasures of memory rolling around in the back of mind. I just needed to give them a place of prominence. I needed them to tell me their stories.

January 2016 

In January I was looking for something my son and I could do and I found a Dog Sledding event called Musher Mania. It was fun and spontaneous. We got out of the house and participated in an event that fed our connection. Then, I did some pretty scrapbook pages because I gave myself the time to do this small hobby that brings me joy.

The lesson that I took from this was the celebration of the spontaneous. There actually wasn’t a lick of snow, we mushed in the mud which probably made it that much more hilarious. The event planners worked with the weather they were given and it was still a blast. I learned that you don’t need perfection to have a perfect day. Just live in the moment.

Capturing the moment was also significant. The scrapbook pages I made were some of my favorites of the year. I love scrapbooking. I love it. It makes me happy. If I am to follow a new path, scrapbooking then is important. It is a mile marker on the road to happiness.

February 2016 

Every year in association with Valentine’s Day my son and I visit Medieval Times. It is a tradition that we both look forward to every year. I love the show and I love the tradition. I worry so much about being repetitive and boring but tradition is a touchstone so worth keeping.

March 2016 

I am a serious homebody, vacations are often not relaxing for me. In 2016 I took a huge risk, for the first time I traveled to another country with my child! We went to Grand Cayman. My son took me snorkeling and in Devil’s Grotto, we looked down over the edge of the reef and saw two huge sharks enjoying the waters. I have absolutely no photographic evidence of the event. My son and I were so stunned by these magnificent creatures that we just observed them in frozen awe.

I learned that I was capable of risk! I was also pretty proud that I paid for that risk in cold hard cash! No banks were broken in the making of this moment. Definitely my financial planning is a skill to be proud of!

April 2016 

I really loved doing the Council Oak Fundraiser as Ruby Ruse. I loved telling fortunes and found that I was very good at it. I often give people the option to consider that I might just be reading their body language and reactions more than I am looking into their future; because if what I say is helpful, then it doesn’t really matter where the information comes from.

But how I knew a former accountant was changing careers to be a librarian?…that’s a bit difficult to explain away with body language. You know what? Being a creepy fortune teller in pink sparkles really makes me deliriously happy.

May 2016 

In May I finally got the opportunity to work with visual art in a three dimensional way. Joan Forest Mage teamed me up to create an Art Adventure for the Life Force Arts Center with Errol McLendon. I created the second event, a Creative Drama program called Come Play With Me.

The participants really got into it and I was delighted to dust off my skills in improvisational performance. I learned that I am indeed a creative individual. More than anything else, it is my creativity that I feel defines me. And, when I am being creative, I am happy.

June 2016 

I really love fitness. That is a fact. I was intensely involved in my training and doing research on fitness for a summer presentation. I was perhaps in the best shape of my life in June of 2016 and that really made me happy. Scientific research suggests that a fit body releases endorphins in the brain that perpetuates happiness.

July 2016 

Very few people know when my birthday is. I don’t like to share the information partly because it is on the holiday weekend and my birthday gets swept away under the national fervor. But the deeper (and darker) reason is my belief that my birth was an accident and that my parents really didn’t want me. It’s a little difficult to celebrate your birthday if you wonder whether you really were meant to be born.

However, hopped up on all those fitness endorphins I was hell bound and determined to have a happy birthday. As I was polling my friends for trip suggestions, one clever soul offered up the City Museum in St. Louis and I was hooked from the mention of seven-story slide. The City Museum was completely awesome yet I loved pretty much everything about that trip!

The most important thing I learned was that I didn’t always have to worry about what everyone else may or may not be thinking. I spent my childhood and a great deal of my adult life trying to do what I thought my parents wanted me to do. I did this hoping to prove to them that I was worth their love, even though I was an accident. I carried that mentality into my most of my relationships. I chose activities based on what I thought somebody else might want. This isn’t the fortune telling that makes me happy, this is just crazy making!

This time, in July of 2016, I went somewhere I wanted to go without worrying about what someone else wanted. And it not only turned out okay – it was better than okay – it was awesome!

August 2016 

For reasons I may write about later (or perhaps never) I was in an exceptionally dark place in August. It was quite possibly the lowest I have ever been yet. My child brings me joy, but my happiness is not his responsibility. He knew I was depressed, but there was nothing he could have done and I sure wasn’t going to disclose to him just how bad I really felt.

It was my cat Bing who pulled me out of the dark. When I picked her up from the groomer she was so darn happy to see me! And she was just so cute with her hair all shaved off, rolling on her back and telling me to rub her belly. She loves getting her hair cut. She just would rather be naked – she’s a weird cat.

She made me laugh and then she licked away my tears with that sandpaper tongue. She quietly listened to all of my darkness and took in all of it without so much as flick of her tail.

“Silly Amy Alice,” she said to me. “I love you. See, you’re worthy of love. Now rub this naked belly!”

Bing, a half blind naked cat, taught me that there is unconditional love in this world, I just have to be willing to accept it in whatever package it may come in.

September 2016 

September was about just surviving; it was just about putting one foot in front of the other. As luck would have it, the Summer of 2016 was the summer Pokemon Go became all the rage. As the season was coming to a close I put one foot in front of the other while capturing Pokemons with my son. We would walk for hours and talk about all sorts of things. I don’t think that I will ever forget that. What a wonderful game. Sometimes happiness comes in tiny packages – in this case, anime animals on an IPhone.

October 2016 

I adore Halloween. It was hard for me to choose just one highlight; it was a toss-up between the Trick-or-Treat in Oak Park or Fright Fest at Six Flags – both were Halloween themed fun. I love making Halloween Costumes. I just love it! It’s not lost on me that this is another example of a hobby. It was also the aspect of using a skill. A part of the joy in those events was the oohs and ahhs my son and I received over our one-of-a-kind costumes. I also love to see the obvious surge of pride on my son’s face when he informs his fans, “This costume is handmade.” I love that my son gives me a picture and trusts that I will bring it to life. My sewing skill alone can bring me happiness, but to share that joy with my son makes me that much more deliriously joyful!

November 2016 

This makes me feel a little sheepish to admit…but the best thing in November was discovering how much I like the television show Supernatural. And not just the show, the character of Sam Winchester.

I finally felt like a normal human being because I had a legitimate crush! Albeit it was on a fictional character who I would consider far too young for me in real life, but I hadn’t had a sweet and innocent crush since William Shatner ruled 1970’s syndication as Captain Kirk, so I’ll just take it

This little crush made me research the actor Jared Padalecki; and I learned that he too suffered from depression. He had a crisis in the early seasons of the show, probably because he was enjoying so much success and a part of himself was screaming that there was no way that he could possibly deserve it. I was able to make that assumption because I feel that way so much of the time. I love too that he used his own creation of Sam Winchester to see himself through. He reminded himself that Sam always kept fighting, and that became his mantra. He founded a whole awareness campaign with that as the slogan.

Jared Padalecki is a hero to me because he risked stigma and rejection to help others who share the battle with depression. In him, I found someone to model. Isn’t that what the arts are supposed to do? Give you something to model so that you can find and become the very best version of yourself? Art shows us the possibilities. And when it comes to possibilities you want the outlandish, the bigger the better! If we imagine ourselves fighting the very Darkness Herself then perhaps it is then easier to find a flashlight when the circuit in the kitchen blows.

Watching Supernatural gave me the ability to see possibilities as I shrieked in gleeful terror watching the impossible adventures of the Winchester brothers. It made me laugh when I needed a break from my sadness. It gave me adventure when I wanted to get away from the monotony of my job. It made me realize that I had emotions…even the flirty one I wasn’t sure I had. It gave me hope.

It would seem that frivolity has its wisdom too.

December 2016 

While sweet Sam Winchester was leading me down a new path of hope, the day everything suddenly changed was when I responded to Errol McLendon’s request to share my thoughts about death and what happens after that event. I wrote to him about my son’s birth, and how it nearly killed me. I had such a strong, spiritual, and life changing experience. I found my Goddess and I found my purpose - I found that when I died.

I sent him a long message detailing my experience and then I went to his show. It was so very profound that the audience stayed for more than an hour afterwards to talk, and to be with one another. After that, it was as if the dark cloud that I had carrying over my head burst. I was free. I was happy again. I felt more myself than I had for longer than I could remember. Errol’s show stayed with me and I thought about it that whole week. Then, I decided to write about the experience again. This time I posted it on my blog (The post is called, The Day I Died). It was one of the most well received posts I had ever written; probably because it was the very best article I had ever written. It was the best, because it was so true.

I learn so much about myself when I write. In my blog post about my death, it was during the process of writing that I discovered something so important: when my body was dead and there was nothing left of me except my own instinct and my own feelings, what I wanted – what I needed more than anything – was to be a mother. I realized that it was really the first time I had expressed a deep desire that came not from someone else’s expectations of me, but truly from my own desire – my own instinct and feelings. Despite the mistakes I had made as a mother and despite the fact that I had been unable to control all the circumstances, ultimately being a mother had brought me the greatest joy I had ever known. It made me wonder what I could accomplish if I trusted my desire more often. I wondered what I could accomplish if I listened to my own instinct and my feelings instead of giving that power away to someone else.

I wondered this because I wrote. The dark cloud burst when I told my story.

There were things from 2015 that I stuffed into that dark cloud and I carried it all through 2016. My geomancy reading suggests that there is a new path for 2017 through the House of Children. It is the Path of Pleasure.  I must make time for hobbies. I must celebrate my traditions. I must take pride in the financial freedom I worked so hard to earn. I must acknowledge my talents. I must be creative at every opportunity. I must pump my iron. I must exercise my independence. I must love my pets (particularly by rubbing my naked cat’s belly). I must play, just play. I must utilize my skills. I must give myself every opportunity to experience possibility, the more impossible the better. And finally, I must tell my story. It really doesn’t matter if it isn’t important to someone else, it’s important to me. I matter – to my son, to my weird cat, to me.

Happy New Year!

The Magic of Meditation

As openly pagan, and now that I’m embracing the title of “witch,” I get a lot of curious questioners asking about magic and my spells. I do cast spells, but I’m one that takes a great deal of time designing them, so it really has to be for something I consider very important. That usually does not involve turning a particularly nasty co-worker into a toad. If she already is a slimy mud slinger how would I transform anything by giving her green skin? Though people seem disappointed that I’m not interested in seeing if that might be possible. Spell work is more akin to goal planning than Harry Potter. What I am interested in pursuing, is not precisely what may be possible, but what I can make probable. 

Imagination is the cornerstone of magic. You have to be able to imagine what you wish to accomplish. Once you can see the possibilities, it’s much easier, if not simplistic, to move on to what is probable. I think it is the possibilities that magic offers that pulls people towards a magical path, whether it is interest in witchcraft or the pursuit of ceremonial magic. Those new to it want to dive straight in – let’s cast a spell! I know from experience that it is a huge let down when instead of being trained how to use a wand, one is told to meditate. How can there be any possibility in something that sounds so dismally boring?

I certainly can appreciate that. I have yet to find enlightenment by monitoring my breathing. I am also decidedly not an advocate for spending hours on end chanting “om” in uncomfortable positions while sniffing headache inducing incense. If I were only to describe mediation as simply “quieting” or “focusing” the mind, or counting breaths I can easily see how this might be seen as boring. The point of meditation is to clear all of the mundane noise out of my head so that I can actually see the possibilities. Meditation is used to explore the possibilities to find the probability - which is exactly what fuels magic.

 

The Mantra 

When I first moved to Chicago in 1998, I was very fortunate to see an advertisement for a class on magic being offered by the late and great Karen Jackson. It was the first formal magical classwork of which I had ever been a part and I have never forgotten what she taught me. Karen explained that meditation was important ground work for the magical process but she also said that it certainly did not need to be painful! She explained that clearing one’s mind of all thought was a highly advanced technique that Eastern Monks practice their entire lives with varying degrees of success. Since I’m certainly not living in a monastery, and have to contend with the mundane pressures of bills, parent/teacher conferences and rush hour traffic, I don’t have to aim that high in order to work some magic.

“Set a timer for ten minutes,” Karen said. “See if you can make it that long. Try to do it once a day. See if you can. If you can’t, that’s fine. See if you can work up to it.”

She also explained that getting your mind to focus is much harder than one might think -as the brain is constantly thinking about a hundred different things in a fraction of a second. She had a brilliant plan to redirect all of those thoughts in a more cohesive direction: the mantra. A mantra can be the cliché phrase “om” or it can be any repeated word. Karen Jackson gave me a phrase. I have never forgotten it and I still use this meditation to help me focus, calm down, or just because it makes me feel good.

Karen’s suggested phrase is: I am (my name). I am a part of the earth. I am a part of the unmanifest. I am alive in a universe that is alive. I am here and it is now. 

Naming myself calls me to focus on myself. I am the most important person in these 10 minutes that I’ve set aside for myself. The focus is me.

Focusing briefly on the earth reminds me of the physical world, and the significance of being a member of the flora and fauna that together is the planet earth.

But I am more than physicality. I am also a part of something that is unknown and unknowable. The mantra calls my attention to my life and the role that I play with the living earth which is both physical and tangible and yet vast and mysterious.

The present moment is the focus. Where am I really? The answer is here. What time is it? The answer is now. I cannot process the past nor plan for the future if I am not present in the moment.

Karen Jackson founded the Temple of the Four Winds, an inclusive group of pagan women and men based in Evanston, Illinois. Sadly, it passed into the ether with her. She was a teacher, writer and publisher. I am grateful that I knew her.

The Cleansing White Fire Vortex 

The Cleansing White Fire Vortex meditation is one of the many reasons I loved Ted Andrew’s excellent book Psychic Protection.

This is a visualization to cleanse and revitalize the aura and the main energy vortexes of the energetic body commonly known as chakras.

In this meditation, I visualize a ball of cleansing white energy which ignites the power center above my head (crown chakra). As I exhale, the ball of light travels down to the front of my forehead. When I next inhale it enters the power center within (the chakra associated with “the third eye”). On the exhale it exits the back of my head and travels back to the top of my head. On the next exhale, it then goes to my throat (throat chakra), in that same triangle fashion. This cycling continues for each power center – heart, solar plexus, womb, below the genitals, knees, and feet. The final point is below my feet, at this point, I visualize the ball of energy splitting in two. One ball shoots deep down into the earth, like an anchor, the second returns to the crown chakra traveling up all of the chakras on route. Once it returns to the top it starts circling around my body. I like to imagine it increasing in speed and magnitude as it passes each chakra. I imagine it cleansing and pulling out any stuck “debris” whirling it into the vortex which is now pulsating with all this bright energy. Then, I imagine it spinning itself out, scattering anything it has picked up down into the earth. Ted Andrew says this is good psychic fertilizer for the earth and I love that imagery.

I find that this is especially a good meditation when I am worn out from over stimulus, but I like to engage this meditation for really no particular reason other than it feels like a terrific hot shower after a long or even satisfying day.

Discursive Meditation 

This method was not only described in John Michael Greer’s excellent book, The Art and Practice of Geomancy, but I was also fortunate to hear him speak about it in person.

The word discursive is used to describe an inner discourse. This meditation technique is particularly useful regarding magical symbols. I use it to further my understanding of the 16 divination symbols of Geomancy, a Renaissance and mathematical divination system I absolutely love (and of which John Michael Greer is the leading expert).

The geomantic symbols are simple and easy to hold in my mind, but if I’m working with a more complex symbol, such as a tarot card, then I place the card where I can comfortably see it. Then I just allow my mind to flow. Sometimes characters come alive from the symbol to tell me more about their meaning. Sometimes it’s a series of thoughts and emotions. Either way, I come out of it with a profound understanding of an element of that symbol.

I also use discursive meditation to explore abstract concepts. I have explored what courage, commitment, connection and a host of other topic mean to me on a uniquely personal level.

John Michael Greer suggested that when I catch my mind wandering off topic, not to simply refocus, but retrace the steps that got me off track. The reason for this is to further my development by studying the individual workings of my own mind.

 

The Tree of Life Meditation 

Geda Parma is a young man with an ancient soul. I was fortunate enough to meet him and was truly in awe of the power and the peace that radiates from him. He describes the Tree of Life Mediation in his book By Land, Sky and Sea.

In this meditation I focus on my feet and I imagine that my toes become roots. They start to grow down, burrowing into the carpet under them and piercing the cement foundations of my home until they find the reddish clay earth under my Illinois home. These toe roots continue to push through each layer of the earth’s core until they reach the fire of the earth itself. But as powerful and heated as this life force energy is, it doesn’t burn me, instead that energy fills each of these long and powerful roots with its pulsating heat. This energy travels back up those long roots, through each layer, back to the clay and cement and carpet and back into my feet. My body then continues to drink in the energy, alighting each part of it with the life force energy of the earth until it reaches my head. Then much like my toes became roots, I imagine branches growing from my head until they touch the stars.

This is incredibly healing to me, I absolutely love the feeling of being literally grounded to the earth. Once, I experienced what I can only describe as being as one with the universe. For a fraction of a second I had a glimpse into what was everything. But I collapsed quickly into awe, and it was gone. I have never been able to reach celestial heights since, but if that is not magic in its full magnitude, then I don’t know what is.

 

Witch Sight 

I found Robin Artisson to be a very difficult author to follow while reading his book Witching Way of Hollow Hill. I really had to press through the dream like pattern of his thought process, but he does have some really beautiful gems of knowledge to offer.

One of those is his Witch Sight Meditation. The first step is to allow myself to feel everything - to hone in on every sensation of touch from the very basic of temperature, to the easy to ignore, like the touch of fabric on my skin. Next, without letting my awareness of all those sensations fade, I then open myself up to sound – again from the overt - like the ticking of the clock in the room - to the faded distant sounds of the wind blowing through the trees in the park several blocks away. I don’t imagine what I hear, I just open myself up to everything that I can hear. It can be pretty surprising and it makes me wonder at the living universe that I am living in.

Artisson goes straight to sight next, but I think it is important to go through the senses of taste and smell. Particularly if I have incense burning, I like to explore the different scent notes in the air and how something so removed can affect the palate while I do nothing but sit and take it within.

The final sense to explore is sight. However the goal is something more than just seeing a clock, some fabric – it’s about a deep awareness. The first time I did this exercise I was actually hopping with anxiety! I think it was the intensity of it all. Away from meditation, it is so easy to filter what I experience. It’s a natural process to let some things fade into the background in order to better focus on something more specific. The goal of this mediation is to get me to achieve heightened focus with all of my senses engaged equally.

I keep a journal of all my meditation sessions. I find that if I write them down they are etched better in my memory. And if I still forget them, there is a record to peruse later. There is no doubt that I am more focused and grounded when I am keeping up with daily meditation. Truth be told I’m much calmer, more patient and generally a much nicer person. It helps me to see the possibilities in others around me, I experience deeper empathy, but in a calm way that does not overwhelm me. I am better able to help others if I am grounded in the present and open to the nuances of varied experience.

More than that, mediation shows me paths to try when I am feeling like I have lost options. It shows me possibility and probability.

My meditation is where my magic begins.

It's NOT the thought that counts.

Happy Holidays! 

I love the Winter Holiday Season. I love the lights that glow at night made even more beautiful by the frost. I love the music. I love the special foods and flavors. I love the glittery decorations. I love the trees that are trimmed and skirted. I, much like everyone else, am filled with what is traditionally referred to as the “Holiday Spirit.”

But do I love the holiday gifts? Now that is a question. 

Like many people, I have heard the saying, “It’s the thought that counts.” I assume that this is supposed to mean that a gift really isn’t supposed to be about the thing itself. When I receive a gift, I’m not supposed to be thinking about how much it cost, or where it was purchased, or if I already have something like it; I’m supposed to appreciate the “thought” behind it. What makes me nervous is when I dare to ask the question, “What is that thought?”

While I am a bit embarrassed to admit to a long string of failed relationships I’ve had, I can say that those men and women taught me a great deal about gifts and the thoughts behind them. I once had this really cute t-shirt that my son’s father had given me when we were still married. It was particularly funny because it was a fabric applique of a girl’s face that looked like a perfect cartoon image of me. It was also fitted and sassy. I was wearing it one day when I went to pick up our son from his house. His eyes narrowed into smug little slits when he saw me wear that shirt. I knew what his thought was at that moment, “I gave her that.”

I had another boyfriend who gave me a belt that just happened to go perfectly with one of my favorite Steampunk outfits. I continued to wear it after we had decided to move on from one another. When we ran into each other at a function, he said, “Nice belt.” I knew what he was thinking as he said that, “I gave her that.”

Another lover wanted to know my plans for Mother’s Day. I said that I was taking my son to a garden shop to pick out a yellow rose bush to plant in our garden. When he expressed mild horror that I was supplying the cash for it, he talked me into allowing him to buy me the rose bush. Later that summer, we went to a concert together with some of his friends. I was the final pick up on the road to the concert, so all of his friends were in the car when they arrived at my house. “See that rose bush,” he said proudly, “I gave her that.”

I Gave Her That.

That was the thought I was supposed to be so appreciative of, “I gave you that!” It meant that we were still connected. It meant ownership – not just of the gift given – but of me.

It has been my experience that the things people own become imprinted with memories and emotions; and they can even become symbols of concepts the individual believes defines them. Sometimes these things inspire or can become touchstones that provide positive comfort and grounding. Sometimes though, they become beacons of negativity sapping the life force right out of the owner. Those imprinted memories are filled with remorse and engage emotions of regret and shame. Sometimes the things people own are imbued with concepts that are no longer relevant in the present. Instead these objects instantly transport and trap a person in the echoes of the past. I have seen people (I have seen myself do it too) try to bury these things in boxes and hide them in storage units, but they still manage to become physical presences literally blocking the path towards a productive future! I call these treacherous things, Accidental Talismans.

A talisman in a magic spell is an object that is used as a touchstone for the magic. It is a placeholder to hold what I wish to create in my future. The object holds my intention and my purpose; and is created with focused thought and identified emotion. The thing is, like everyone else, I am always thinking and feeling, even if I am not focused and conscious of my intentions. That is why Accidental Talismans are so much easier to create because everything a person owns will invariably remind them of something – some thought or feeling – it may be in the back of the mind, but it is there. All things are symbols for thoughts and memories, emotions and concepts that define an individual. Gifts are particularly nasty Accidental Talismans because they don’t just store the thoughts, emotions and concepts or the receiver, they store those of the giver too. So I’m not just dealing with what thoughts and emotions and concepts that I associate with a particular object, I’m contending with whatever else the giver put in there too.

When I speak about the power that things, and Accidental Talismans have, people have observed that this phenomena does occur and most will even admit that they do still hold onto things that make them feel weaken instead of empowered. A lot of people argue with me that they can in fact change how they think and feel about a particular thing that they own - I have my doubts about that. There is no doubt however, that it is impossible, for anyone to change how someone else feels and thinks.

It didn’t matter that I liked the t-shirt, and the belt, and that I’m rather fond of yellow roses. What mattered to those three different men was that those things were a direct connection from him to me. A part of me still belonged to them because I had a thing that kept that connection alive. In my case, the gifts I mentioned took on a more nefarious “ownership” connotation. However, connection is precisely the “thought” behind all gifts. People give gifts and receive them as a symbol of the connection and the nature of their relationship.

The thoughts counting in gifts are not always darken from the ghosts of lover’s past either. Allow me to create a fictional character for the purpose of explanation – I’ll call her Aunt Milly. Almost everyone has an Aunt Milly or two in their family. Aunt Milly is that person who gives the worst gifts. They are either hideously ugly, completely impractical or just out of sync with just about everything. Aunt Milly always makes a big production when she presents her presents with some extravagant story of the hardship she underwent to acquire the gift. But she always finishes her tale with, “I saw this, and thought of you!”

Aunt Milly is pretty relatable. Nearly everyone knows someone who fits this simplistic fictional description and I have observed that nearly everyone responds to Aunt Milly’s gift in one of three ways:

1. It promptly gets chucked in the trash, or given to a rummage sale. This would be the best thing to do with it in my opinion. However, the problem is that Aunt Milly invariably will ask where her gift is, the next time she visits. The receiver can then lie that it was broken or stolen which is likely to result in Aunt Milly supplying a replacement. Or they have to face her stony stare if they tell the truth that her gift was unsuitable. 
2. It gets put in a storage box. When Aunt Milly comes to visit there is a mad dash to find it and then find a place for it. Aunt Milly will then coo and cluck over it and once again will go on and on with the extravagant story of the hardship she underwent to acquire the gift. She is also likely to bring something new that expressly goes with it. How lucky! 
3. It gets put in a room. This is quite possibly the worst thing to do with it, in my opinion. At first, the receiver will still use the room although their first thought when they see it, is “Ugh! I hate that thing!” Then over time, they will train themselves to push that thought to the back of their mind. That’s the thing with Accidental Talismans though, the thought never really goes away. It lingers, in the subconscious, and the feeling just pervades. I’ve had my own Aunt Millys and I can personally attest to the final result. I simply stopped going into the room the blasted thing was in! It was as if the thing had been given sentience. It was no longer my room, it belonged to Aunt Milly’s gift. 

What is the thought behind Aunt Milly’s gift anyway? When gifts are given it is so common to say, “I saw this and thought of you,” but I believe that what the Aunt Milly’s of the world are saying is, “Every time you see this, I want you to think of me.”

It has been suggested to me that Aunt Milly’s gift is an expression of love. Unless Aunt Milly is expressing her love of shopping, her love of martyrdom, or the love of hearing her own voice then I would disagree. And neither is it an expression of my love to Aunt Milly to accept her gift. I would not express my love to an alcoholic by buying them alcohol – how is accepting a gift from a shopaholic any different? If I really love Aunt Milly wouldn’t it be better to set boundaries? “Aunt Milly, if you really must bring me something from your trip, can you make sure it’s something that I can eat or give away?” But if the thought behind Aunt Milly’s gift really is “Every time I you see this, I want you to think of me,” doesn’t that suggest that she thinks that she is not in my thoughts unless there is a physical representation of her next to me at all times? She needs a physical representation of our connection, because she doesn’t trust that the connection between us is strong enough without it.

Don’t I need to show her that I value the connection between us? We may be related, but that relationship doesn’t carry weight without tangible connection. If I really love her wouldn’t it be better to show her how much I love her? “Aunt Milly, the only gift I want from your trip is to have you tell me all about it. Did you take any pictures? If you don’t have a scrapbook may I make one for you?”

If I really love her wouldn’t it be better to show her by taking her to lunch to hear her stories? If she doesn’t live close, can’t I call her on the telephone or write her letters to demonstrate that she is in my thoughts? If there is true connection in our relationship, Aunt Milly would respect my boundaries. She would bring me cactus candy from her journey to the desert. Or something to donate to my son’s school rummage sale.

But maybe…just maybe…it’s just so much easier to put that butt ugly gift in a box and bury it instead of addressing a truly horrible thought: Maybe…just maybe…Aunt Milly doesn’t love me. Maybe…just maybe…I don’t love Aunt Milly. Isn’t that what I’m really burying? I’m burying the fact that there isn’t a genuine relationship. I’m burying the fact that maybe, I don’t want a relationship with Aunt Milly. To me that’s akin to burying a body in the back yard. Both things are likely to haunt me.

I’ve had to face the fact that many of my lovers no longer loved me. Some told me outright and in hindsight, that was much easier to deal with. I had closure. It may have hurt more at first, but it does make moving into a productive future much easier. Closure is so much harder when the connection isn’t severed outright. That is one of the difficulties of life I have not been able to avoid and I don’t have many answers when it comes to dealing with that. I do know that holding onto the echoes of that connection will not move me anywhere except back to past, and I can’t live there – no one can.

So when I give gifts I try to do so knowing that the connection I have to that person will not always be the same. I try so hard to give gifts knowing that what I thought might have been so perfect in my mind, is actually the exact opposite. My gift may end up in the trash, because it was inappropriate, because I didn’t know the person as well as I thought I did. I’m not going to lie, that does sting a little, but it’s an opportunity to keep learning. Other people are one of the great mysteries of life – I will never know all there is to know. Isn’t that what makes the connection so exciting?

The Day I Died

On August 11, 2005 at 7:00 in the morning, I went into labor with my first and only child. My water broke - which contrary to popular belief is not really how labor usually begins - usually you have contractions first, and then, during the labor process, the water sac breaks and the baby is born. That water sac not only protects the baby, but it also is a safety barrier for the mother. A safety barrier I was missing for 42 hours. It wasn’t until August 13th that my son was born. He was so very healthy. He was so strong! He was also huge at 10 pounds and 2 ounces.

“That’s the biggest baby I’ve ever seen!” one of the nurses shrieked as my son finally made his way into the world.

His placenta was also gargantuan, also weighing in at 10 pounds…or so they thought…

On August 15th, I was discharged from the hospital. The nurse came in to check on me one last time. “Hmm,” she said. “You have a little bit of a fever.” I thought that was odd, but they issued me my discharge papers and off I went.

As I struggled with my then husband to get our (not-little) new babe into his car seat for the first time, a lovely mother who had been discharged with me that morning came to our aid and showed us what we were doing wrong with the car seat. She seemed fine, great actually, that heroic awesome mom who helped me. Any yet, I was worried; because I was decidedly not fine. I felt awful and I never feel awful. I’m rarely sick. I’ve never have had a broken bone. I’ve never even had a cavity!  I rationalized that maybe I just had never really experienced pain before and that what I was feeling was normal. I saw a toddler in awesome mom’s car with her newborn and I thought that maybe childbirth is easier the second time around.

When I got home I struggled out of the car and staggered to the house. I stumbled to the bathroom and then a thick piece of flesh - at least six inches in length - fell out of me (I know now that it was the missing 2 ounces of placenta). I was panicked; but my then husband covered up all that goo and told me I was fine. I really wanted to believe him.

He helped me to the couch that sat in the summer sunshine. I layered myself with several blankets. It didn’t matter that it was August, I was freezing. My husband put our son in a laundry basket next to me and then he left, perhaps to get food, but I don’t think I was able to comprehend where he was going. Then it was as if time slowed down. I started to shake with the chills and then I remember my head banging against the couch several times in a bizarre state of movie-magic slow motion.

And then…it just stopped. I found myself surrounded by this beautiful soft white light. I was floating in silky white clouds. I was so beautifully warm and comfortable and perfectly at peace. I had never felt so relaxed. I had never felt so complete, so completely myself. I had no concerns for my future. My past had such perspective, and such clarity. There was only this beautiful peaceful moment, surrounded by softness.

“Whew! I’m so glad that’s over!” I said.

It blossomed quickly in my mind, however, that while I was relieved that the convulsions were over and the fever was gone, that was not what I meant. I was glad that everything was over. It was as if I had spent 35 years studying feverishly for an exam and although I wasn’t sure if I had passed or failed, for better or for worse, I had taken the exam and it was over. It was done.

I was dead. 

My peace was then suddenly replaced with incredible panic. “I’m dead!” the white light vibrated with that thought, because I wasn’t in the white light, no, I had no body anymore, I was the white light.

I had been a practicing pagan for many years at this point, but I was still staunchly monotheist. I believed in a one all encompassing female divinity that happily accepted any mantle or name you felt comfortable to give Her (even if it was male). I had always gravitated towards the warrior, protector stories of the Greek Goddess Artemis; but in my arrogance at that time, I believed that to be a silly construct of my human mind. The name Artemis, surely was beneath this divinity. But in this state of anxiety I gave into my humanity and I named my Goddess.

“Diana! Diana!” I called to Her. “Please! I want to live. I need to be a mother to my son!”

And just like a cliché movie ending twister, I gasped in that very dramatic and noisy breath of life, I sat up, and I gazed upon my sleeping son.

When my husband returned he did drag me to the doctor. When I described the fever and all that goo the doctor’s face turned notably white and he stammered, “You…you should be in a hospital! You…you shouldn’t be standing here!” But I was in fact standing in his office and I never was re-admitted to the hospital because there wasn’t a single thing wrong with me. There was no fever, no sepsis, nothing. I was just fine. They did prescribe me antibiotics just to be sure, but I wonder if I really needed them.

I had died that day. Yet Diana, She who is also called Artemis, She had heard my plea and had given me life. I spent a great deal of my postpartum researching Diana. It just so happens that She is also attributed as the Goddess of Childbirth (I had no idea); as She helped Her mother Leto give birth to Her twin, Apollo. Another interesting fact – my son’s birthday, August 13th is called “Diana’s Day.”

August 15, 2005 remains as one of the most spiritual experiences of my life to date. It is a day that I reflect upon often. I still struggle with what I learned that day. I am still processing the magnitude. What I learned was that life and death are largely a choice. That knowledge is fraught with heavy responsibility. I didn’t just choose to live, I chose to live this life – my life – as it is.

That is sometimes very difficult for me to accept, because I am so often disappointed with my life and more precisely, myself. One of my greatest shames is that I thought I never wanted to be a mother. My childhood was in some ways difficult and I did not want to continue that legacy. I had been told that I had trouble connecting with people, and so I was not confident that I could connect with a child. But I was desperate for the love I lacked in my childhood, and I was wooed by a man who wanted a child, and begrudgingly…begrudgingly, I gave him one. That same man who left me as I died, left me before that child he demanded from me reached his first birthday. In my darkest hours, that shame courses through me. It is then that I tell myself that I never wanted to be a parent, and certainly not a single parent. And certainly not a single parent who works at night, and on weekends, and holidays, and birthdays, and who often has to work late, sometimes 48 hours late… In my darkest hours, I tell myself that I am precisely the lousy mother I never wanted to be.

And yet, when I was dead I called to Diana and I said, “Please. Please I want to live. I need to be a mother to my son.” I didn’t say “My son needs me.” I said, “I need,” that was what I said. “I need to be a mother to my son.” The truth is, my son really doesn’t need me. Yes, absolutely, we have a great relationship (one I never believed I was capable of). I have made a positive impact on his life. I am a decent mother, and sometimes maybe even better than just decent. Yet, had I chosen to let go on August 15, 2005, my son would have continued on without me. I may not be a fan of my son’s father but if I acknowledge the truth again, he left me, not his son. His father loves him. My son would have been cared for and supported. When I begged my Goddess to live, I wasn’t begging for my son, it was all about me. It was for my experience. I chose this life. I chose to be a mother.

I am still bemused by the consequences of that choice and more importantly, the responsibility of that choice. I chose this life. Not only did I choose to be a mother, I also chose, much to my chagrin, to be a single parent. Not only did I choose to be a single parent, I chose to be that single parent who worked at night, and on weekends, and holidays, and birthdays. Those were in fact, my choices. I am responsible for all of that.

I have had people try to argue with me that I could not have possibly known that my husband would leave me. However, the writing was on the wall that my marriage was not made to last. There were all kinds of warning signs, not to mention a few blunt comments from a close and brazen friend. I however, chose to ignore those signs, my intuition and my feelings. When he demanded a child, it wasn’t a request, there wasn’t a discussion; it was an argument. I could have divorced him then but I chose to be a mother instead. I was ultimately the one that made that decision. I was the one who made the counter demand - I would have a child, but it had to be before I turned 35. On my 34th birthday, I remember distinctly that I said to my then husband with nothing short of disdain in my voice, “I’m reminding you that I’m 34 today.” I turned 35 a month before my son was born. I cannot hold my son’s father accountable for that. That was my choice.

It was also my choice to accept a career that had me working nights, and weekends, and holidays and birthdays, etc. etc. My husband crooned that it would be stable and secure; there would be benefits and oh so much money. My close and brazen friend warned me there would be consequences for my family with this career. My heart warned me that this career was not going feed my creative personality. There were once again multiple signs that I would sacrifice a great deal of personal happiness for stability and security in addition to the desires and needs of my son; but I ignored them all, along with my intuition and my feelings when I made my choice.

It would be easy to lay the blame elsewhere and whine that I had no choice. I could blame my once husband for the demise of our marriage, but I had a heavy role to play there. I do not think talking about our conflicts would have resolved our issues; because the reality I must face is that I chose a husband who was not the right partner for me; nor was I a good partner for him. I knew it from the beginning. I chose to ignore our conflicts – I buried my head in the sand. I also chose my profession. I chose security and stability over creativity. I knew it would ultimately make me very unhappy, but again I buried my head in the sand. I also knew I was dying the moment that nurse told me that I had a fever. But I chose to ignore my own instinct. I ignored my own instinct because I think I wanted someone else to accept responsibility. I wanted the consequences to be someone else’s problem.

I think I say that I have no choice when what I really want is to shift responsibility. The day I died I learned that as much as I wanted to blame someone else, there was only myself to blame. I had been given all the information I needed. I had been given multiple signs in addition to my instinct and feelings. I chose to bury my head in the sand, until I was faced with the ultimatum of no sand, at all.

“Diana! Diana! Please, I want to live. I need to be a mother to my son.”

Diana gave me life on August 15, 2005, of that I am sure, but it was because I made my choice. I wanted – I needed – to be a mother to my son. That is profound, just that, but something else that I find interesting is that it was the one time I made a choice based on my own instinct, and feelings.

When I ignored my instincts about my marriage, it resulted in a very ugly divorce. When I ignored my instincts about my current career, it resulted in a diagnosis of depression. I based my choice not on what was within me, with my own instinct and feelings; but external stimulus and information that largely had nothing to do with me. I nearly refused to become a mother based on external stimulus and information as well. I assumed that I would repeat the pattern of my childhood. I assumed that I had no choice there. Yet, when there was nothing of me, except my instinct and my feelings, the one thing I needed and wanted most was to be a mother.

I am responsible for my choices, and actually, what I would consider as the worst of those choices came with some great fringe benefits. My job is seriously lacking in creativity but boy that money is great and it does afford me to come up with some creative vacations. My marriage may have been doomed from the beginning, but boy, oh boy did it give me the most wonderful boy. Conversely, motherhood is not without its counter as well. As I said, in my darkest hours, I recall all of those external stimuli and situations in attempt to convince myself that I was wrong to want to be a mother – that I made a bad choice. Although, they are only hours after all. The ultimate truth is that when I had the courage to tap into my own instinct and feelings, that choice lead to the greatest joy I have ever known. It makes me wonder what I would be capable of if I reached for that divine clarity in my life, rather than only on the edge of death.

I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that death is easy. It’s more than easy, it’s sublime. Life in contrast is not easy. A great deal of the time it’s not anything even close to sublime. It’s complicated and confusing and downright messy. Life is filled with goo; but what I have learned is that some of that goo is sticky cotton candy kisses. Life is full of choices – which leads to responsibility and repercussions, and then more choices. Maybe that is why death is so peaceful, it is the last choice anyone ever has to make.

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This article was largely inspired by Errol McLendon’s one man show the Final (?) Journey that was performed at the Life Force Arts Center in correlation with their gallery show Art and the 9 Levels of Self.

I was also moved and inspired by the book Mastering the Art of Quitting by Peg Streep and Alan Bernstein.