Thursday, September 19, 2013

Stepping outside myself for a moment

Tonight I lit candles at my shrines, and said prayers and made offerings on behalf of others, but none for myself.  I only put forth gratitude on my own behalf.  Partly this was inspired by Sannion's offerings for the community, the selflessness of which I think is very inspiring, and partly by being tired of my own self-pity.  I see nothing wrong in praying for oneself, or praying for guidance, but ideally even that should have a feel of gratitude and hope.  Too often, the focus on need seems to create this negative vortex. It's a hard hole to climb out of, and it doesn't feel like it puts me in the right space to receive anything.

Just love. (As my Love would say.)

Tomorrow I'm leaving for the Herbal Resurgence Rendezvous near Flagstaff.  Was particularly looking forward to meeting Sarah Lawless, and was very disappointed to hear she had to cancel at the last minute. But the event should still be rewarding.  Herbalism (and entheogens) has always interested me. I've made my own tinctures, incenses, salves, and such, but I've been gradually shifting my focus over the last several years to ways I might work with plants as spirits and teachers and not just as ingredients.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

And yet the music still plays

Oh my gods, this music...

It stirs me up, it reminds me of my core, the part that is always longing, the part that only one person has truly known.  He would love this song too.  

Does it even work, trying to explain one's inner landscape by sharing songs?  

This band is called Wolf Parade, fronted by the incredible Spencer Krug, who sometimes goes by the name Moonface.  These are the lyrics:

I am a wall of sand and stone
and you, you're some kind of ivy I'm trying to hold as best as I can.
As best as I can.

But I'm a disaster,
I could not be burning faster

I stick my arms into webs,
I take my meals with weirdos,
And play with my rocket ships.

And all the while you, you
are so composed.
So composed
So composed

You are the most gracious thing I know.
Touched by crooking flowers
Touched by snow

And I put my rockets away.
I think you're fantastic.
I'll put my rockets away.
I know that you care.
I'll put my rockets away.
And you
I'll put my rockets away.
are a house of skin and hair.

I've been running off of fumes again.
I've been running off my mouth.
I've been running in the hours
between midnight and dawn
In the direction of the moon.
With the impression that's the way,
the way to find your house.

So, hey, I will build your bastion
And hey, how long can you put up with these questions
When you got nowhere to go except
into the terrible air?

And I put my rocket away.
I think you're fantastic
I'll put my rocket away.
I know that you care
I'll put my rockets away.
And you
I'll put my rockets away.
are a house of skin and hair)

Erring on the side of culture apparently past
Come down from the good rack crystal glass

'Cause I, I'm a wall of sand and stone.
And you, your some kind of ivy I'm trying to hold
as best as I can.

My beloved, you died...

You died... the year 2013, which you said was going to be your lucky year. your Death card year (8+8+2013 = 2029 = 13) , and me in a Devil card year (11+25+2013 =
2049 = 15)

… in May (the 5th calendar month) on the 14th (reduces to 5) on the 5th day of the lunar month of Thargelion. You may have even died at 5am.

...the spring that the century (agave) plants bloomed. That spring, we had marveled at their height and tasted their nectar (although it was not delicious). the spring after a very strange Anthesteria.  I was horribly sick, yet I was determined to see it through, to keep drinking and doing ritual and not hold back.  It was hard, I had a fever for all 3 of those days, and you were worried that I was pushing myself too hard.  Even then, I would have said that this particular Anthesteria was more about the dead than others we celebrated, but I wouldn't have been able to explain why.

...10 days after we went to Sedona on a day trip. We walked a trail we had never walked before, one that I had visited in my childhood. We saw all the beautiful ivy on the ruins of old buildings, it was picturesque and magical, and we wished he had a camera to take pictures of each other but we both left our phones in the car. On the trail, we saw orange and blue caterpillars coming out of hundreds of webs all along the trees and bushes, and we were so fascinated by them, that we got to witness their emergence. We did tarot readings next to the creek and burned incense. We quietly read for ourselves, me with the Voyager deck and you with the Rider Waite.  I remember looking at your cards, mentioning we’d both gotten a certain card, and yet for some reason we didn’t discuss our readings like we usually would... I don’t know why, but now I wish we had, even though at the time I think we were just quietly peaceful.  We had gone to a new age store, where you bought some stones and we bought a new blanket for the bed, then tried to find a place that was still open to eat.  It ended up being mediocre chinese food, but we got to try some lychee liquor and we were laughing and joking.  On the way home, we harvested some prickly poppies near a rest stop.  I said we should leave an offering and you pulled a tiny amethyst out of your pocket, and I left that on the ground. We listened to your new ipod all that day - you had put electronic music you had composed years ago on there and I was impressed by your talent all over again when it came up on random.

...after 2 or 3 weeks of mysterious occurrences on the patio - the bicycle light kept turning on to one of its last settings. A couple of times you thought I was opening the slide zipper on the bag of soil, but I hadn’t of course. And then the bag of prickly poppy we had harvested was knocked over, and all of them gathered into a neat little pile..  We thought it might be a nature spirit taking up residence on our patio. Now I wonder if it was someone waiting for you. (I saw the light the first time, but otherwise it was almost always when it was just you at home.) It stopped when you died.

...just a few days after an intense conversation we had in bed before we fell asleep.  I asked you something about your history, and suddenly you were telling me the whole “story” of your past relationships in order and in detail. I remember wondering why you felt the need to tell me all of it right then, but I just listened. You told me I had saved your life because I never gave up on you.  I said, “How could I? It took me my whole life to find you, and I wasn’t about to let you go.”  You insisted that I could have but didn’t.

...just a few days after I was feeling intense, almost panicked, for no particular reason while driving to work.  I started to text you, just to reach out and let you know how I was feeling and how inexplicable it was.  But then I erased my text and didn’t mention it.  I don’t know why I erased it.

...2 days before we were going to go camping, just the two of us, on the Rim.  I had told you earlier that week that I wanted you to make love to me in the woods, and you smiled and said we would.  We were going to take the last of our mushrooms.

...the morning after sending me naked pictures of yourself (which you never did before, and are the only nude pictures I have of you), many posed cleverly with mirrors. The strangest thing is, even though your death was certainly unintentional, you had organized the pictures just a couple hours before you died, in a folder titled “Dionysis Takes Me”. I did not find this until 4 months later, but it stunned me. Was it your state of intoxication that inspired such a title??  And yet He took you in more ways than one...

...while listening to your ipod with the songs on shuffle. The song playing when I found you was Go to Sleep (Little Man Being Erased) by Radiohead.  The song after that would have been Keep Sleeping by the Rentals.


It has been just over four months since my husband died.  It's difficult to fathom where I'm supposed to go next, what I'm supposed to do, what future if any I might have.  I'm going to try to write things here in my blog, mainly to sort out my feelings, keep track of things.  It still seems wrong that I'm here, that I'm alive when he is not.  We always said we must die together, because how else could we bear it?  And yet here I am, and I'm trying to believe there is a reason.

Me, my grief, and this blog, are like to be a mess. Dark, not always linear, not always getting better, and not able to make promises. 

I feel like my path must inevitably be drawn to the dead, to those death aspects of Dionysos, and to forging whatever relationship I can with my beloved.  But where to begin?  I am not particularly sensitive, I am not a spirit-worker.  I feel paralyzed, sometimes with grief and sometimes with simply not-knowing.  I know the only cure for paralysis is to move, but I am struggling with even being okay with quiet spaces and with my own thoughts.  People keep telling me to go easy on myself, to be gentle, to give it time... Yes, yes, that is well and good BUT don't you see?  If I go too easy on myself then I'm just going to give up, because that's sure as hell a lot easier than this "trying" shit.

I pray for dreams of him, and they do not come.
I pray for guidance from the gods, and either it does not come, or I am a poor receiver for it.

But I shouldn't say that.  I *have* had some omens, strong ones at that, that have brought me some peace.  I will write of those when I'm ready.

Some days are almost okay.  Some days are not.  So there it is.