Archive for February, 2019

Morning

Life changes.

Years ago, I learned how to be up at silly o’clock, to catch a train into London and start work. Sometimes I went to the gym by the office first, then ate breakfast at my desk.

I enjoyed it. Watching the sunrise time change as the year moved, enjoying the peaceful freshness before rush hour. I was awake and got a lot done before most people had started.

Mornings are difficult for me now.

Not so long ago, I had to pull over on my drive to work, because I was crying so hard. I couldn’t continue. I didn’t have the strength to face the day, let alone work with others. I had to return home. Defeated and ashamed.

My own inner sunrise was changing, I think. What had been possible before… now was not. A limit had been reached. I had to rest, regroup, figure out what next. I wasn’t sure how long that would take, or even how best to do it.

I still love watching the dawn. The fresh quiet over the fields when I walk the dogs before the school run begins on the street. I’m in a very different place, geographically and personally. Battles have been fought.

Sometimes those tears still come. I’ve rushed back from the walk and collapsed inside my gate. Or I’ve continued, wiping my eyes and trying to take solace from playing pups (who try to help as best they can). I always carry a handkerchief, just in case.

Mornings aren’t the start of the ‘potential’ of the day for me. What will I do today?

That potential can be overwhelming. Rushing thoughts of what I have to do get faster and faster, until I can do nothing except sit and shake. Himself sits with me if he’s there, caring and concerned. But my illness seems determined to list everything I must do, before berating me for not being able to do any of it. Spiralling chaos.

I try to take mornings gently now. As much routine as I can (things happen, after all). Allowing myself to pause to knit, or just sit and watch the birds run the Kitten Gauntlet in the garden (this is apparently A Thing).

I always have to move and do eventually. That is certainly daunting, and sometimes too much. I have to let the wave of Overwhelm pass. Once the flood ebbs, I may be worn, but then I can see what’s left – priorities remain.

I do what I can. Still exploring the healing process, what my body and mind need. Ups and downs are natural. It can be so very hard.

But it helps me to appreciate every sunrise that I see.

Still here.

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A Happy Medium

I’ve been watching the ‘Insidious’ movies recently. Fun horror films, they’re well crafted and I enjoy them.

Today was part three of the series, which allowed Lin Shaye, who plays the psychic ‘hero’ throughout, to really show how an older lady can stand in her power!

I watched with a smile. I have done since this lady’s first appearance: pleasant and happy, kind and understanding. Before she has to fix the craziness around her.

It’s interesting to see how ‘psychic’ folk are portrayed in film. I think my first exposure to this was the haunting Zelda Rubenstein in ‘Poltergeist’ (I still don’t understand how that movie is rated PG!). I learned that psychics are usually women, often with odd quirks, and people mock them… before calling on them for help.

Years later, Uri Geller rose to fame. Derek Acorah too. I hear that they’re both pleasant gentlemen. But the jokes still come.

It’s very difficult to discern what is and isn’t ‘true’ when watching depictions of such work. TV can play tricks so easily, after all.

I learned more as I grew older. That people don’t want to be told things from the world of spirit. They might think they do, but the disbelief comes because ‘why can’t I hear it?’

Some choose to listen. Some don’t. That’s fine. I understand (and have written about) the Witch’s advice: To Know, To Dare, To Will, To Keep Silent. This can be for one’s own protection most of all. I find it sad, generally, but there it is.

Since becoming a Public Druid Priest, I’ve heard so many stories. Yes, people sling mud because I’m stepping up to do this (I’m a Druid – I can deal with mud). However, I’ve also been able to help more than a few. People feel able to come to me. I’m the smiling lady at the door, offering to help. I’ve met many others like me, and we always share that look of understanding.

I stand beneath a huge, ancient yew tree, showing a scared man that he did have the power to make change.

I watch ancestors reach out to bless their children during celebrations.

Sometimes it’s reassurance. Sometimes warnings. Since I was young, I learned to tread carefully with sharing what I saw and felt. But if the recipient is truly ready, asking honestly and sincerely, the information imparted will strike a chord and be used well.

I often wonder now about the psychic folk at the MBS fairs. I have no doubt that many are absolutely sincere. There’s probably a few charlatans. That’s not my place to judge (although I nearly lost it at a spiritualist church years ago, when I witnessed a display of astounding fakery… I settled for glowering instead).

How much we choose to connect is up to us. We do have that power. The hard part is trusting it, and sometimes that’s easier when coming from someone else (also a huge trust issue).

I’m glad of the ‘Insidious’ psychic lady. She shows how powerful a true walker between worlds can be – and how friendly, back in reality.

Feel free to explore, my friends. Very few (if any) of us are without companionable protection. And there are those you can go to who’ll always hold the lantern to light your way forward.

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