Summer Solstice 2011

Dear Phoenix on the WEb,
Here I am. Summer Solstice, across the Wheel from Winter Solstice. Remember then? It was so cold and wind was howling from the North against the house. I was just beginning the knitting of this something I'm making with yarn called, "Ashes." Last night when I got home from work, I felt so panicky, like I couldn't locate anything of any surety. Remember you are not here, Phoenix. I am still mourning you and the ease we had in finding one another, locating myself easily in relation to you. So, I sat in my chair, the one that had the mysterious web across it the other day, and looked at your photo there beside me. The tears came so easily again. And in front of that photo is a seed from the Deep time that I placed in a circle of a piece of the Ashes yarn. It's been there since, witnessed by your photo. Nothing's growing because I did not plant it; it was to be a reminder of a seed of something in the Ashes. Also there beside my chair on the other side is the knitting, the weaving I've been doing from the Ashes. So I picked it up again after a long stretch of not knitting this summer, and I began again. My fingers knowing the way, I created 8's with the Ashes, repetitive figure 8's around and around and around the bamboo needles for almost an hour. The promise made: "Phoenix, we will make something from this" came to my mind. Then more tears.

What have we made from this, Phoenix? What is that seed? Am I that seed, that something? How can that be when I feel so distraught about this loss, this break up with my partner who said those words, that promise: "Phoenix, we will make something from this"?? What have she and I made from this colossal loss of you? Have we failed? (note: just this moment, there are gunshots in the distance.) I worry and wonder if my absorption in my grief of losing you last year created more of a rift between she and I. I didn't let anyone in very much. It was a year of you and I, completely. I did not want to be touched and often could not be reached. Perhaps this was ok with her because my grief was so much to hold and join me in. It's true, I wanted/needed to be joined in that desolate place. But I could not make it comfortable for anyone. It is not an inhabitable or hospitable place. And the truth is, I go there, even now. And have been there many times before you were shot. It is a piece of my nature that calls me, needs my attention. And it makes being in relationship with me challenging, I know. So, I wonder, Phoenix, did this last year's 'descent' seed this break up? It is possible.

And here she and I are at this doorway of change after almost 8 years together. There is no obvious way other than through it, at this point. It's a loss that rivals losing you. She may be gone from my life all together after she goes; it's a thought I can hardly bear. She is another ground for me; we are compatible in so many important ways, especially in a world that is so messed up. We love each other totally. I've never wanted anyone else in my life as a partner. We are a match in most ways.

A sister made me an altar the other day: on a lush green cloth, she placed black sand in the center which looks like a dark moon, then made grooves in the sand and sprinkled white powder like white rocks. This is a dark labyrinth, lit only by the moon illuminated rocks. In the center is a doorway and twigs that look like curly roots. She placed a compass there in the center. I placed my seated woman statue and around the lush green edge and spread petals from the rose bush, Phoenix, that I associate with you. On this Summer Solstice, I feel the internal pull and collapse of Winter, though I know I must continue to move through the doorway with my dear partner to find out what else is on the other side. I know there will be despair, more despair. I'm not convinced it will be 'better' than where we are now. But it will be another side of somewhere in this dark labyrinth. Maybe we will see what we have made, other than a big painful mess.

Goddess help us.
Love,
Me