Musings

10/19/2018:

Piping notes in the wildwood call
Heard somehow deeper than being with the part of you that knows the trees whisper and rattle their branches
The part restless in slumber, the scream that builds into your call to battle and to joy
And your own giant begins to stir

The drums begin a steady beat
Pulse of the Earth within and your blood settles into the rhythms of words tasting true
A susurration rising and fading with the rocking and washing and the flow of your tides
Crashing on the rocks within
And you mold yourself to a new shape in the world

The scent of fecund damp teases your nostrils
A reminder
Of the places monsters dwell
Of lanced wounds and battle madness, a mothers hands and the flash of silver in the well
Sharp glinting on your blade
Sharp reflecting in your eyes, in your own heart, obscuring the next step on the path
The decision is yours now
Your own voice has risen in elation and rage
Your own strength gathered
Everything changes with one more step

Do you trust yourself enough to take it?

The fire is warm, the blanket cozy in your lap, the wind rattles at the windows
You can go back to sleep
You can turn away gently with a soft smile
As at fairy tales and the vivid imaginings of children
You have taken no oaths, will foreswear no vows, will live rightly and with honor
But soft and sleeping
One more step

Breathe deeply
You hear it

Choose

9/21/2018: a poem to Lady Brighid, offered at the Slavic Autumnal Equinox (so then destroyed)

8/19/2018 (started):

I honor You as patron of the silver-tongued

but truth is often razor tongued

and blades are forged in Your flames.

I honor You as nurturer

but healing is often a crucible

and I must be patient with our pain.

Twenty woods speak visions of battles yet unfought

but resistance requires community

and wars take shape on many fronts.

The rage within coalesces

tempered with the love

and I will not sit idly by at the calling of the drums.

These horrors we have gifted

poisoning the wells we called our own

but I will help You, Lady, to heal and shape the worlds.

 

8/19/2018:

Hail, Lady Brighid,

Lady of the Sacred Fires:

The fire in the head of the silver-tongued poet,

The hearth fire from which nurturance springs,

The forge fire of purification and shaping,

I honor You.

Hail, Lady Brighid,

Lady of the Sacred Waters:

The gushing waters of birth,

The deep waters of the healing well,

The tears of a mother keening her grief,

I honor You.

Hail, Lady Brighid,

Exalted One,

I come before You seeking communion,

I come before You in gratitude for your many blessings,

I come seeking to know Your ways and live Your virtues in the worlds,

I honor You.

 

6/9/2018 (Facebook post):

I am not enough.

This is the wound at the center of my being turned into the story of myself. I am not enough. I can never be enough. And the thing is that when you treat yourself or another as though they must prove their enough-ness then you make that statement true—you cannot “do” your way into being enough. It is a very private kind of wound and I think whatever wisdom I will ever have in this life will come through working with and healing this, my core truth of myself. I feel everything deeply and this is no exception.

The thing is- this trying to prove I am enough has shaped the other essential truth of my being. I am The Person Who Gets Shit Done. If it needs doing, I will find a way. I might bitch about it if that feels warranted- or because I’m just in that mood- but if you hand me a thing it will be Thung Into Being. This is not always great for my self-care, but it sure looks good on a vita and, ultimately, it’s a great life skill. Of course, it often means I am so busy Doing that I forget that I am actually a living, breathing, feeling human being. Today I realized I have more compassion for the people who have shaped this wound than I do for myself on my best day… on my worst day, there just really is none.

I have been really struggling the last few days and today there was this very intense but nebulous sense of something wrong in the air and in my mind and in my heart. And I am so blessed in my friends and loved ones, both those of long standing and those newly come into my life with whom I hope to build strong friendships. I may even be blessed to add to my chosen family and be added to theirs in turn. The thing is, that with this feeling has been this struggle to figure out the next steps on my path personally and professionally and spiritually. And after some conversations yesterday and today, a few of them with complete strangers, I got the message loud and clear. I Feel and I Do. Those are my strengths. Deep emotions and boundless compassion (well, outward focused anyway). And the ability to plunge my hands and heart and mind into the Work and Get It Done for my Family and the World and the Folk and, maybe one day, even Myself. That is my Path. Those are my next steps. Thank you to all those who helped me feel my way along that precipice. My heart is too full for words, but it is deeply appreciated.

And if you have no idea what I’m talking about, just know that I love and value you. Sometimes we must put these things into words and out into the world as living intentions. I Feel and I Do. And I think I can live with that.

 

4/30/2018 rewritten 6/5/2018:

I am the tree at the edge of the waters

As the surface stirs, as I stretch

My shape in the world changes

The bright fires of the Heavens flung in glittering fragments across my skin

Are reshaped, reshaping themselves to me, to the surface I provide, to my hands and will in the world

We are mirrors of mirrors,

reflecting the fire without and within

We are embodiment and we choose in our own shape

the patterns of the gods in the world

the patterns of the gods in our selves

We cannot change the winds that blow us, nor the soil where we root

Yet we can delve deep to clear waters, reach to the shining of our being

Primal

As the passions of life are wrought

Seek now your shape in the gloaming, hold yourself as the true

Hold that meaning but lightly, as fireflies chased in the dark

Stretch out your canvas in living, as in living we embody All

4/30/2018:

I am the tree at the edge of the waters

As the surface stirs, as I stretch

My shape in the world changes

The bright fires of the Heavens flung in glittering fragments across my skin

Are reshaped, reshaping themselves to me, to the surface I provide, to my hands and will in the world

We are mirrors of mirrors,

reflecting the fire without and within

We are embodiment and we choose in our own shape

the patterns of the gods in the world

the patterns of the gods in our selves

How do we change the winds that blow us, nor the soil where we root

Yet can not choose to root deep to clear waters, to reach for the light of our being

Primal

As the passions of life are wrought

Seek now your shape in the gloaming, hold yourself as the true

Hold that meaning but lightly, as fireflies chased in the dark

Stretch out your canvas in living, as in living we embody all

 

4/26/2018 edited 6/9/2018:

This wound at the center of my being

It is the crack in the concrete

Are we all like seeds, needing softening by some rough hand

And nurturing within the rich loam of darkness

To open

So that we may grow outwards

And root deep within ourselves, letting in the universe

Embodying the fierce embrace of living

I want to go out into the world as to a lover

Open and vulnerable, a little shy but ultimately at home in my nakedness

Rising up

Reaching

Woven

Drinking deep of those still waters whose echoes we hear sometimes but dimly through our own cracks

A fire in the head

A fire in the belly

A fire of the heart

What would you choose, if you could give voice to god?