Making a note

Dearest Phoenix on the WEb,

I just want to make a note that I feel things are possible now, not so hopeless with my health situation. There's nothing else I need to say about that right now.  Just feeling happy, hopeful and in Her hands and there are so many other times I feel so many other things that it seemed like a really good thing to make a note of this.

It is just past the zenith of Winter and we are in the Deep. I have been despairing about various sundry of things.  Today I have been thinking of the rose, our rose that blooms in May and how that will be to see it again this coming 200013th year.  I feel happy imagining that, looking towards that lovely first blossom that you send back to me from the grave.

My love,
Me

Good Solstice morning to my sweet Phoenix on the WEb,

I woke early to watch the live stream of the Newgrange sunrise, but the cloud cover prevented being able to see anything.  However, of course, I know it happened...the energy of the light moved through the passageway and lit up the triple spiral, beginning another beloved Earth cycle of Winter Solstice to Winter Solstice!  And...perhaps, as many have prophesized, the beginning of a new era.

It was a long night.  Technically, the longest one of the year.  And, internally it was long, though certainly not the longest in my internal year.  There have certainly been longer ones.  Last night after circle I was saying goodbye to someone and she mentioned she was going to be traveling to a place in New Mexico where I had been years ago on Summer Solstice.  Actually it was a place J. and I traveled to to meet other close friends for a celebration of women; J. and I were an active part of the celebration weekend.  Women from all over the world came to be a part of this, women who I have respected as feminists for years, women who were leaders of the second wave of feminism and women who are now part of another wave.  It was a big deal, and a big deal to be an included part of it.  As this person was talking about going to the town where J. and I stayed with our dear friends S. and J. who owned a women's lodge, I was flooded with WuWu excitement in connecting to that time and space.  I quickly responded and told her where the lodge was in relation to where she would be and as I began to speak, my body cracked and my voice fisted the words as they squeaked through my throat.  I didn't want to tell her the whole story of this place and what it meant to me, in fact I hadn't totally seen what it has meant to me now, here from this place in my life.  After all, as our lives change, so do our relationships with the memories of the past.

So, I noticed the change in my voice as I spoke, found an easy way to leave the conversation and later cried about it.  Still the meaning hadn't arrived until early this morning when I couldn't watch the live streaming of the sunrise in Newgrange and I went back to bed in the dark.  Then, I got it, Phoenix.  I got what that memory is to me and why my throat responded with a clutch to the the words, the sharing of it in such a superficially social way.  You see, yes, it was literally on the weekend of Summer Solstice of 2007 and it was metaphorically the Summer Solstice of Ph. and Sc., our time together as Feminists, as Goddess Wimmin, as Shamans, as Partners in this tradition.  It is where we were not only partners of life, we were Shaman partners.  I remember hiking up into the hills the morning of the opening ceremonies and we found an area on the side of a mountain that overlooked the town and the mesa.  There we got very clear what we were doing and why we were doing it...for women, for the women who have come before.  It was awesome to have that focused comraderie with J.  And later at the ceremony, it was beyond words what it felt like to do what I do and witness what she does and be Together in that.  I still remember the feeling of the tears of joy flooding down my face as I watched the room and J.; I was in Awe.  The only way I can articulate it is this: it was the Summer Solstice of our Beingnesses, our Essences, our Quintessence together.

And so, here on the dawn of a new Era, a new Cycle on the Wheel, I hold this precious Light to my weary Heart.  You see, Phoenix, I am grateful for this piece because I have been taught the language of The Wheel and now I live it, so I take great comfort in being able to locate things in their natural cycle.  It takes away some of the shame of things/relationships etc not lasting forever.  J. and I had an incredible Summer Solstice.  Now we are in the void.  No one knows what comes from the void at any time.  And...I have seeded some peace there now.  Or, perhaps, some peace has seeded herself there now with this memory, this meaning, this illuminating that has happened inside me, even though I cannot see it, per se.

Thank you, Phoenix, for this venue to come speak Heart to you.  Maybe new worlds happen quietly like this....

Your beloved Companion,
Me

Giving Thanks

Dear Beloved Phoenix on the WEb,

On this day, Thanksgiving of 2012, I remember you and give great thanks for your love continued from across the veils.  I miss your sweet body and love incarnate.

Always and all ways, my love,
Me

Many Miles

Dear Phoenix on the WEb,
It's been many miles now since you were taken. Today in my heart,  I've been in those last days with you because I taught that class on Women Who Run With the Wolves again today for the fifth time since then. That was the last class I taught before that night, in fact, it was the night before you were shot when I taught this material. This evening, after class, I've been shedding many tears, missing you, wishing I knew what was going to happen before it did so I could stop it. Wondering in looking back at the 'signs' or what seems like they may have been signs, why I couldn't stop it, why the signs didn't tell me exactly what was going to happen. Why being on the WEb didn't serve me enough to stop it, save you, interrupt the violence.  Why my last goodbye was not more focused.  Why the week before I was so bereft without true understanding that perhaps that was because I may have sensed what was coming.  I mean I was feeling crazed; I have it all recorded on my calendar for some reason.  It was that unusual.  I don't understand.  And all I am left with tonight are the tears and the words to a song called "Many Miles Before I Go": "I will try but I will stumble, I will fly, you told me so. Proud and high or low and humble, many miles before I go".   Plus today in class one of my students talked about a dream she had with her beloved dog who recently died this year.  She was with him in the dream like he was alive just like it was real.  She didn't want to wake up and come back to this reality and cried all the way 'back' awake.  I wanted to drop and curl up and remember those kinds of dreams with you and not come back either.

Later as I was able to quiet and be with myself more exclusively, all of this has surfaced, all this reliving.  The chaos and meaninglessness of it all then and for all these many miles since.  I've let myself just go wherever with it all: the guilt, the powerlessness, the victimization, the collapse all over again.  I wrote about it in my journal, spilled out all the self-doubt and the complete madness of it all.  Then something else happened.  I am not even sure I can articulate the felt sense of the 'it' of it. There wasn't even a sequence, I don't recall.  Suddenly, though, if there were a timelessness to 'suddenly', another awareness/consciousness came.  She was not in the middle of things, she stood on the edges.  She didn't shame the repeating.  She didn't comment at all on that. It was simply an eye that sees from many miles away, that has lived these many miles since you were killed. She has a keen knowing of this pain still and isn't dislocated from it at all.  She also carries the many miles since you've gone. It's like maybe how the stars feel sometimes to me.  They blink at me so I know they register my presence but/and it is not important to them that everything make sense, even that I make sense.  They are there regardless, steady and present moving in their cycles across the sky. 

J. sent me a card this week that simply said on the back of the photo of a heron: Be Happy.  While I wish it were enough for someone to say that to make it so, I have to admit that in a way it translated inside me as "Be Free" of guilt.  Go on with your life.  I set you free.  Maybe even, but not likely, but close enough: I forgive you.  How does one thank the one person who can gift you such a thing? Whether it's right or not, she IS the one person who could gift me that.  And she did.  I think, Phoenix, she freed me to turn a corner, to experience this new consciousness of She of Many Miles Who Stands at the Edges.  She who holds all of it in the senselessness of it.   She who lets go of the need to understand.  And yet, still understands deeply so very much.  Mostly though, she wears the many miles.

So, that line: "I will try, but I will stumble" seems to resonate after feeling set free, released from something of the pain of the past.  All of this has come together inside me tonight after this fifth anniversary class. "I will fly, you told me so" I sing to you, Phoenix and to J. 

I hope you hear the love and gratitude for you, Phoenix. I will never not want to feel you close and am grateful for the opportunity to remember those dreams of you.  I am grateful for you, for our many miles together while you were alive and now, after you have gone. 

My love to you many miles more,
Me

Duck, Death and the Tulip

Dear my beloved Phoenix on the WEb,

There is a children's book by Wolf Earbruch (2011) called Duck, Death and the Tulip.  Duck feels a presence near by, has for a while, but one day she notices how close this figure has become. It is Death.  At first, Duck is frightened and befuddled then she relaxes and they become friends.  They romp together and rest together quietly.  One day, the inevitable happens and Duck dies.  Her friend Death takes her to a stream, places her gently into the currents with a tulip on her chest and nudges her on her way.  This has significance again in my life, more so than ever, it seems, in the last several days.  I think I see where I'm going a bit more clearly.  Strangely enough.

Thursday of last week I walked into the kitchen at work and there in the large sink was a dead pig, skinned and pale, legs straight up, gut exposed ready for some sort of extraction.  I gasped and almost threw up then I cried.  I cried, Phoenix, for what humans do.  I cried for liking bacon (which I will never eat again).   I cried for the life that was that pig and her tribe.  I cried for you, Phoenix, for the shell that was left for me to find that night you were shot.  That shell that had been brutally murdered then dragged to a spot for me to get.  I cried right there at work amidst coworkers who were uncomfortable with the emotion.  Later that same day, I went to see a friend who was dying of cancer in hospice care.  When I walked into the room, I think I gasped quietly so as not to alarm anyone.  I've not seen anyone so close to death, skeletal and drawn.  I spoke to her, sang to her and gradually adjusted to this living life in front of me.  The next day when I saw her, she had just died.  I was there for 4 hours with her and her sisters and as time passed, I watched her face change, let go, relax into the death.  I too relaxed into her death.  And, something else.

My grandmother died this year.  She was 103 and I sat with her in April.  We sat and stared out the window, watching the wind blow leaves, flowers, branches and an American flag.  I have never felt such peace with anyone like that outside of circle.  She remarked to me how much she appreciated just the quiet and not talking.  When I left her that visit, I knew it was the last time I'd see her and I knew it was time for me to follow through on a long time interest in hospice work.  In fact she died two months later and I began hospice care work shortly after that.  It was time.

Phoenix, I am aware of this current carrying me.  I have felt this with me for many years, much like Duck: this presence and knowing of something lingering nearby.  I've had glimpses. And then long stretches of not knowing, feeling lost.  Now I feel like Death has laid me down into a stream of life, handed me a tulip and nudged/pushed me on my way.  I feel the flow and see how maybe all the trauma, death and divorce have some how woven this stream/current for me.  I am beholden to Death in this way.  I do not know how else to speak of it.  Beholden to Death and Life in this way.

And what must I let die in order to let go?  Guilt.  Not responsibility. No, I will never not feel responsible for the devastation I have caused another.  I see now, though, I cannot hold myself back from living a life I chose.  Death has showed me something of the way in Life.  I am truly grateful. 

Love,
Me 

YOU!?

Dearest Phoenix on the WEb,

Ok, what is the deal?  On my way home from work today, I took the long way home, a scenic route through the mountains so I could feel the elevated air, see the leaves beginning to change and feel some change inside me in response.  And, I did. I had the sunroof open, the windows open and I looked down at your sweet face on my dashboard and remembered you so dearly: how it felt as a "We" together that is most unique, the energy that was exchanged, the settled joy of us, the love that was you and I.  All of that was gently and powerfully blowing around and through me as I sped along.

Then, the blue lights and I am pulled over for speeding.  I can hardly believe it; I mean how could this happen tangentially to being in such a state of connection and peace with you.  Aren't these bonds supposed to be practical? preventative of anything bad happening?  Where was your influence here?  Why a speeding ticket when feeling you and your presence?  Really. Why?

While I waited for the verdict of how much I would be charged for speeding (I really did believe you could influence this), I calmed myself down again by swimming through more connection with you as I looked at the photograph.  I remembered the times when I wanted to take you for a walk with your backpack on and you did not want that.  You would leap off the porch and into the yard barking at me to come chase you, daring me to.  I would grow more and more impatient but/and you would always make me laugh because of your persistent rascal-like playfullness.  I would try to be serious and say: "Phoenix, I am serious, come here. Hurry up!"  And you would trot towards me only to leap again into the air off the porch just out of my reach!

So, there I was languishing in those memories when the officer returned to tell me that my ticket would not be reduced because my speed far exceeded the limit.  I was bereft, how could you not affect change in this situation, pull some strings, make something wuwu happen to reduce this ticket that I got because I was communing with YOU!  Then I heard it: "Ma'am you were speeding 22 miles/hr over the limit."  Oh, there it is.  22.  Two twos.  Sigh.  Ok,  Phoenix, there you went again, leaping off the porch laughing at me like you do.  Ok, I accept, I was speeding. I'll pay the fine and slow down.  But, you owe me 100 bucks.

I love you, Phoenix.  We are a match forever.
Yours,
Me
PS....When I went to locate this photo above that is the one I keep in my car, I had to search thru all my photos by date in my file folder on line. There are thousands and I had no idea what date it was.  After looking at three other random dates, I found this one.  The date?  3/22/08  Yes, 22.  Ha, ha.

Back to back cranes

Dearest Phoenix on the WEb,

Thank you!!!  You are here.  In my despair, I could not see the language, our language, you send me.  It's amazing that I just don't see what's right there...

These last few days have been rough again.  Someone close to me has a dog who we think had a stroke because this weekend he couldn't walk properly.  It was a scary thing as the vet was trying to figure out what was happening and it seemed like he was getting worse quickly.   I stayed close to her as she plunged into her nightmare of losing such a close companion suddenly.  I held the line.  Finally, things began to shift and her beloved companion turned some corner and mostly has come back.

I was fine throughout, felt ok like I was totally present with what was happening inside me and still present for her and her process.  I am so glad I was there to understand the level of fear that was happening for her and to hold some line of groundedness.  As things settled for her, I began to plunge into my own depths.  Both today and yesterday, I came home from work, put my pj's on and went head first into bed.  I've been weeping the last couple of days sporadically and then today it was full force again.  I called you, Phoenix, called you to come to me.  Come back!  I need you.  Where have you gone!  You've not been in my dreams, I don't have any reported sign of you...you have vanished!!  Then I went back to this web log we have written together and began to re-read our journey.  I could feel myself both drop deeper into the grief and then something else met me there.  It was a line, maybe, that you hold for me.  I begged you to show me a sign, show me you still are there, something undeniable.

Nothing.  Silence and your photographs and our story.  But nothing current.

Later, I went to the living room, feeling a bit more grounded, but still discouraged that I must have made all of those other signs up because the magic has run amuck.  Then, as I was talking on the phone, Heron flew up towards my window and over the top of my house!  Oh, yes, is that you???  Then that reminded me of something from earlier today: a resident was wearing the most lovely shirt of two cranes standing back to back with one another so that it looked like it was a two headed bird!  It was so unusual, I thought then, but hadn't connected it consciously to you until later after I saw Heron fly towards me.  That was you and me at one another's back.  How sweet and just like you.

Thank you, dear beloved friend/guardian/companion.  Thank you for being there even when I am not seeing you.  Thank you for flying towards me to get my attention.  Thank you for not leaving me, especially now.  Thank you for being at my back.  I need you there with me.

I love you so.
Me

PS...I just read that cranes take this position of back to back as a protective posture.  Of course.  This is the kind of Wuwu I so needed and called you back for.  Thank you, dear one.