The path has a bend
And we cannot see the End
Keep walking, My Friend
The path has a bend
And we cannot see the End
Keep walking, My Friend
This post originally appeared about a year ago, March of 2019, written from Buenos Aires, Argentina, where I was traveling at the time. The Sunday haiku is taking a hiatus as I review some posts that are relevant to a larger work I am putting together.
Yesterday I read a line from a book by Sue Monk Kidd’s “Dance of the Dissident Daughter” that gave me a chill. It describes something about the transition state where I am in life right now and it summed up my feeling so perfectly.
When you can’t go forward and you can’t go backward and you can’t stay where you are without killing off what is deep and vital in yourself, you are on the edge of creation (page 100).
I took a deep breath when I read those words. Yes! Yes! She is describing how I feel right now. This was the end of her chapter on “Awakening” where she describes her journey out of a patriarchal understanding of her world and her religion into something deeper and mysterious.
There are times in our life when we may recognize there is something deep and mysterious calling to us. We sense that we are less of a “fit” with our old lives, and the systems in which we play a role. We know we will make a change of radical proportions, but we seek to understand the implications in our lives.
We begin to understand that wisdom is not something “out there” that we must find, or receive from someone else. Wisdom is here, inside of us, calling to us as though from an ancient source. When we begin to access that source, it has powerful consequences.
For so long, with images of God portrayed as a masculine figure in the sky, and religions that ordain men and not women, we as women begin to shrink from our own wisdom. We forget to question how patriarchy and dominant religion are entwined. In many indigenous spiritual traditions there are divine feminine and divine masculine figures. They coexist together, yin and yang energy.
To me, that is a more natural sense of divine presence. When I feel disconnected from source, I realize I have cut off my feminine wisdom that exists within my heart and my soul. Perfectly understandable, I suppose. The culture might radically change if we honored both masculine and feminine qualities, in a divine dance, rather than always viewing one as “in charge.”
Even that very model, as a hierarchy rather than a partnership, as top-down rather than in a network form, seems artificial and constructed to me. As a scientist, always questioning what nature might reveal to us if we were to pay attention to her, I realize my spirituality is undergoing profound change. Paying attention to this inner wisdom rather than subscribing to a “Father knows best” world means taking responsibility for my life.
Nobody else can tell me where my soul needs to go. But I know at a fundamental level, paying attention to her is what I must to do honor what is deep and vital in myself. In time, she will reveal what is next. There is no hurry, but I am ready to listen.
Wishing you the very best as folks head back to school and we ease into the fall season. I read Libre Paley‘s post this weekend on The Kinder September and it got me to think about my approach to this change in season and that “September feeling” that some of us have.
I have always loved September. The crispness in the air, the waning of the summer humidity and the new school supplies were always a fun part of a new adventure. In my youth there was a new school outfit, eagerly worn on the first day (even though the weather may have been too warm). We reunited with friends and classmates. And there were new things to be learned and studied! (Yes, I was a geek or nerd, pick your label.)
As I have become an adult, I recognize this pull to start a new thing in the Fall. Last year it was my marriage and this blog. There are cycles to life, and there are cycles in seasons. Respecting this and honoring the transitions that accompany the cycles is vital to our health and well-being.
In the Fall, I try to get a little extra rest as the seasons change. As the darkness arrives, I try to make time for a cup of hot tea when it feels cozy and fulfilling. I eat soups and hot foods in addition to my daily salad. I plan for time to connect with loved ones.
This year I am taking a 2-week trip with my husband to the U.K. (England and Scotland) to celebrate our first year anniversary. Right after our wedding we spent a few days in Mexico, but it was not a long enough break. So we saved to get ready for this trip. Since September is “shoulder season” for vacation travel, it is not as expensive for flights and hotel reservations as peak season.
The 6-hour time shift will be a little mind shift outside our routine “life zone” and will allow for some time to connect mindfully. I love travel adventures, especially when my husband is with me. We always enjoy new experiences, and come away with stories, shared jokes and a slew of yummy photos.
He is the better photographer, so while I may not post daily during our trip, when I do post, it is likely to show off his photography. 🙂
Hope you enjoy your month of September, and if you are in a “life zone” change of your own, I want to read more about it!
Last week I wrote a bit about dark nights of the soul, a contemplation of my battles with insomnia, and coming to terms with changes I anticipate in my life. I also wrote about home, and what that term means to me. I realize in writing every day, what I am doing is mining my own stories and allowing them to take shape in a purposeful direction.
I began reading Thomas Moore’s Dark Nights of the Soul and I am surprised and delighted by some of the insights. Moore’s biography also intrigues me. His amazon author page describes him this way: “He has been a monk, a musician, a university professor, and a psychotherapist. He also writes fiction and music and often works with his wife, artist and yoga instructor…”
I love his eclectic career and life. He clearly mines the depths of his experiences and others’ stories, both light and dark. The darkness is not something to be avoided, in his view. He describes the transformation that happens in this darkness this way:
Your story is a kind of water, making fluid the brittle events of your life. A story liquefies you, prepares you for more subtle transformations. (p 61 “The Self in Solution”)
I so completely identify with this passage. And it speaks to what I attempt to do in pursuing this daily writing practice, using the process of story to understand my own life, and the path thus far.
He uses mythology as a key to understand and cultivate our relationship with the darkness, which is a part of all of us. The imagery he uses of Hekate (Hecate) the moon goddess really speaks to my need to delve below the psychological models that seek to bring things to light, to overcome darkness and to make things manageable. There is a role of this, of course. Most of us have bills to pay, people to care for, work to accomplish. When we are pulled totally into the dark, these things become difficult, and we need assistance to accomplish the basics of survival and maintaining our foundation.
But the “Lunar consciousness” of Hekate helps us put things into a context of deeper meaning, beyond our surface concerns. By mining and embracing the “waste” of our dark nights, we actually may open to some deeper truth within us. The more we try to banish our darkness, and live a moralistic life the more this darkness will assert itself in unhealthy ways. Moore writes: “I want to enter the darkness, because that is where the soul is.”
Yes. He describes the magic of this dark place, and the cyclical nature of light and darkness in our lives, the yin and yang. This all speaks to my struggle with discovering the next steps in my life, knowing my soul is calling forth different actions than what worked in the past.
I am in a cycle of change right now. Some parts of it are joyful as I realize realize my concepts of marriage and commitment have evolved. I may return to some types of work that I really enjoyed but left behind over a decade ago. And yet, I may have to let go of some comfortable notions of my middle class life, and embrace the discomfort of growing into new roles. I may leave behind people with whom I enjoy working, so that I can more fully realize my potential outside the confines of a corporate bureaucrazy.
I am mindfully preparing myself and my husband for these types of transitions. And I am often impatient with this soul-mining. I want an action plan, a step-wise process for this, a clear path. But human lives are seldom so orderly and the soul does not operate on command. So I will embrace this period of quiet, with these occasional dark nights and creative dreams to guide me.
Some wisdom from Rumi (The Guest House) can perhaps serve as a reminder:
“The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.”