Archive for Personal

Quiet Rebellion

The world seems to have gone mad right now. As the news rolls on, with the British Government apparently heading towards dictatorship (or oligarchy at least), I’ve felt so powerless. My MP has never listened to anyone but those who agree with him, so what can I do?

Himself reminded me of the image below.

We could run away, or as one fine Tweet said this morning, ‘Fuck off into the EU that you love so much.’ We could give up and flee.

Or we could stand. No matter what symbols they make us wear, or freedoms slowly curtailed.

This is my land, my home. It can do so much better. We must stand together – apathy is not an option. If we give in to powerlessness, those who benefit from that inaction win.

We must stay. Stand. Remain, even. When they come for us, standing to raise your voice beside the river of truth can be a powerful act of rebellion.

Much love, my friends.

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Truer than True

For many years now, the touchstone of my Druid practice has been ‘What are you Doing?’ For this summer, the answer has been mostly ‘thinking’.

I’m not a fan of summer. The extremes of heat and unpredictability of British weather mean that I suffer when the pressure changes, as well as burn at the slightest touch from the Daystar.

This year, it has almost felt as if Summer is replacing Winter as the season of contemplation for me. I’ve been out and about with talks and work as usual, but for the rest of the time, I’ve been very much inside with my thoughts.

Usually, I would share these in written form, most likely on here. But something has held me back. These thoughts are for ‘inside’ for now, as they cogitate and grow. See what I mean about Winter-like? Seeds not yet ready to break through the surface (I’m sure there are Autumn-blooming plants, but I don’t know enough about horticulture for details).

Being so insular has allowed me to notice things, too. Those little ‘coincidences’ that really aren’t. The twists of fate that are a cosmic kick-in-the-pants, because we notice them at just the right time.

I’m circling the subject. OK. Deep breath.

I’ve felt that I’m actually changing, right now. Not into a new person, and I’m not gearing up for a Big Announcement! I’m still me.

But the (debunked) scientific tale of a body regenerating itself completely every seven years has come to my mind today, and set me down here at last to have it out.

In recent months, I’ve felt strongly that the winds of change are passing through me. I’m past 40 now, close friends are hitting their menopause while others are celebrating their children’s teenage years. Life is moving forward.

As I explored what this meant when I hit Proper Adulthood at University – ie independent living and Looking After Myself – so am I feeling that exploration is needed now.

Not just What am I Doing, but Who am I Now?

I’m becoming more and more frustrated with the labels we give and receive. I’ve heard someone tell me that ‘Druid’ has some very bad associations with them, and I can see why – not all ‘public’ Druids are good people. ‘Pagan’ is too vague, albeit useful as an umbrella term. ‘Witch’ and ‘Heathen’ kind of mix into what I do, but I’d probably get told off if I claimed to be either.

I can feel myself properly entering my 40s and allowing those frustrations to help me see what, who and where I am, Right Now.

I feel the inner ‘chime’ of rightness when I do certain things: speak publicly from my heart (no matter how terrified I am), help people individually or through divination, share my thoughts here with you.

I feel the pain of wrongness when I try to push back into what I ‘should’ be doing. My inner gremlins constantly try to tell me how my current path is WRONG, and I should return to the workforce, find myself a nice secretarial job, have children quickly, and basically follow the ‘regular’ folks.

That’s not me. That’s not even the majority of people I know. That’s a fiction, which would be both bizarre and harmful if I were to try it. Square peg, round hole.

I cannot squeeze into my teenage jeans any more than I can return to PA-ing a demanding man-boss. That’s not who I am any more.

But then where does that leave me? I joked to Himself that I was ‘off the map’, in the blank pages at the end of the atlas. Here Be Dragons. Which resulted in laughter, because I know a few people who relate strongly to Dragon-types.

And then I thought… I’m a Dragon. In the Chinese Zodiac, I’m a Dragon. A Sagittarius Dragon, born with Jupiter rising. I’m so much Fire…

Perhaps the tears of pain come when I try to douse that flame, to dampen my crazy joy and enthusiasm, to return to ‘normality’ (whatever that is).

I’ve don’t have as much energy as I used to, but what I have is more focused, as I have to use it carefully. I suffer fools far less, and feel righteous anger when those I love are threatened.

I can’t live in a little box. I’ve often joked about Schroedinger’s Cat – how the cat in the box has sodded off to go and do its own things somewhere else. That’s how I feel.

The only snag is that I’m not entirely sure where I’m going next. The world seems truly insane right now – that or it’s having a collossal shakedown so that we have to stand up, shake off our powerlessness or apathy and really do something.

We are all off the map, really. We’re charting courses through unknown seas. The unexpected is happening every day, and we cannot ignore our place in it.

I’m exploring what I can do, that is truly True for me. As people find me and feel a pull towards what I do, and as I do likewise with others, so we inspire and help each other. The challenge is finding what those True things are… as well as being aware that they may change next week.

It’s the Deep Truths of life that I’m swimming in right now. The foundations are shifting and I’m not sure where I’ll end up. As I try to find out what my mind, body and spirit are doing Right Now, so my journey may find me alongside others, old friends and new.

Either way, I am so ridiculously grateful to those who choose to walk with me: human and (very patient) deity alike.

All of this came about while I was musing what to wear today. What does my skin feel like now, how can I best express that… hmm. Small changes lead to bigger ripples.

I look forward to what Autumn brings. Onward.Truer than True

Much love, my friends.

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Who Am I?

When asked who you are, what is your immediate response? Your name, your job, marital status, sexuality, hobbies… all the labels that make up that sense of Me.

In which case, my name is Cat, I’m a priest and author, married with two dogs and two cats, cis-female, into books and knitting. Also GSOH (Good Sense of Humour).

But that by no means tells you about who I am inside. The Me that looks out from my eyes, who writes these words and tries to convey (with varying degrees of success) what she means to all of you.

One of the things I’ve sought to actively explore in recent years is who I am. That’s a continuing mission in a way, one that we all share.

As children, our identities are malleable and mostly made up by our parents: those who buy our clothes, sort out our haircuts, tell us what we’re allowed to do and not do, and generally teach us about the world.

As teenagers, we may rebel against this, as we strike out more to find our own identities. We try on different looks, join social groups, follow musicians or sports teams. Community merges with personal identity, giving us a new sense of family through our friends, much of which is formed through schools (specifically, those we come into contact with every day).

When we reach adulthood – say, over 21 – we’re supposed to have figured it all out. Who we are, what we want to do. Job goals, relationships, family of our own. But it’s not that simple now, as the world changes and so many more options are open to us (or closed).

We have so much information now, it’s virtually impossible to remain disconnected from the events going on in the world. We may wish to actively engage, pushing for change, or quietly work behind the scenes on a local (or even familial) level.

As others listen to our opinions, we may find that we have more power than we ever knew before. What do we do with it? Even this blog may inspire someone – I see that in the comments and responses. My actions have weight, even if it seems right now that it’s just me tapping away on my laptop in my living room.

Lately, I’ve felt very disconnected. My new medications have made my thoughts fuzzy and unclear. I’ve made mistakes, got frustrated, stepped back a little. I’ve felt that I let folks down by being ill.

That’s not true, of course. I’ve stepped back because it’s been necessary. I’m still here, after all. Battling the annoyance that I can’t do everything I want to do right now!

We’re on the cusp of Spring. Which I didn’t notice until it was pointed out to me. The changeable weather has meant the turning of the year has crept up on me… but something inside has known.

I can’t help but think of the transformation that Spring ushers in. The seeds finally braving the world as they appear from the soil. New life arriving, with enthusiastic yells and insatiable curiosity. Stepping outside and feeling the sun’s warmth after a mad winter.

Working through my illness, I’m exploring who I am all over again. What my new abilities are, my new boundaries, needs and preferences. A good portion of it is relearning who I was before, at heart – elements of myself that have been lost or forgotten during traumatic times. A lot of what I find is new and exciting… and a bit scary.

I’m paying more attention to what is true for me. Yes, I do want to do that. No, I don’t like this. Not just giving way for the sake of others and becoming a shadow in the background.

I may not be able to do as much as I once could, but I Am Still Here. I’m passionate about words, both the writing of others and creating my own. I love seeing creativity in action and supporting creative folk. My spirituality encourages my curiosity, my desire to explore and to know Why.

Which means I have little time now for bullsh*t, for prevaricating and yoghurt weaving (look it up). I’d rather hear your stories than what you think I want to know. I’d like to see behind the everyday masks and make friends with the person beneath, warts and all.

I want to help others on their journeys, without judgement until I know the full picture. I want to know Why things are as they are. I want to poke complacency and foolhardiness, to encourage and applaud transformation, ideas, action and achievement.

The world is changing as we are. Much as it makes me want to hide sometimes, I know that opting out is not an option. I’d rather help, in my small way, to make and be the change I want to see. I can only do this by recognising my own truth, my own Self, but recognising that it’s constantly changing as I learn and move forward.

That’s what life is.

Once again: What Can I Do? What Can You Do?

Go on then. We’ll muddle through together, as we step forward into the new Spring.

Potential

(Desktop art: ‘Terrence the Badass Unicorn’, by MonkeyGhost)

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Speaking as a Woman

Today is International Women’s Day. This always gets me thinking. Much like Mother/Father/Secretary/Dog’s days, aren’t those every day?

Well, of course. But it’s worth taking a specific day out to think about that particular group.

(Yes, there is an International Men’s Day. That’s not what I’m looking at today).

From an early age, I learned that there were more male role models than female. In the late ’70s/early ’80s, Wonder Woman was my idol. The only superheroes I saw back then were on TV, so while I loved the lonely strength of the Hulk and the corny fun of Adam West’s Batman (where Catwoman always seemed to win, somehow), there wasn’t much else to choose from that I could relate to.

As any so-called minority knows, it’s tough when you don’t see yourself in the world around. You seek out something that reflects You, and hold on to it fiercely when you find it.

It seemed that a certain social group of straight, white men was the norm, the ‘default’. I ended up being somehow tomboy-ish, because the specified female roles weren’t in the least interesting to me. Then that one female leader, Margaret Thatcher… well, no. No, thank you.

I remember adult ladies around me making jokes about the bra-less, freedom-fighting women of Greenham Common and Newbury. Third-wave feminism seemed a long way away from me, and not at all aspirational.

I saw many female teachers, but led by a Head Master. I saw male bosses and female secretaries. Of course, in later life, I became a PA, and understood how deeply true it is that while men stand up to run things, they couldn’t do it without the strong women behind them, hiding their wits and brains behind their battle-armour of Wonderbra, heels and fierce makeup.

It’s often true that women have had to fight twice as hard to gain as much recognition as men do ‘normally’. Which is why on days like this, it’s both fun and necessary to catch ourselves in perpetuating those default norms. Feminism is about equality, for all. This is not about women above men, but asking for equal respect. Be we gay or straight, trans or cis, our stories are just as valid as anyone else’s. No matter our ancestry or current social role or job, we can find commonality, hear each other and stand up together. Our relationships, and the gendered language we use, is still evolving and maturing as it is required to represent new things.Pagans have a great deal of respect for women, given that it is a very female-led spirituality – but again, we still have room to grow. We stand with our brothers, fathers and sons, together in our power, unique and connected. This is the revolutionary act that we can demonstrate, each and every day, in ritual and regular life.We say that we see women as sacred – yet many are still taken advantage of, used or disparaged. In recent years, I’ve got into (rather pointless) arguments about how I call myself a Priest, not a Priestess. While I know that the suffix ‘ess‘ simply denotes the female of the word, once again, the default is male. That always annoyed me, as it seemed so arbitrary. Actress but not directress (or directrix). Many people have called me a Priestess, which I don’t mind at all, but it’s interesting to note that a Priestess is treated as if the title is an honorific, not derogatory (even if you need to be a High Priestess to carry any clout *grin*). That word appears to have been reclaimed, and I’m glad of this. Priest and Priestess, standing together as God and Goddess. And I am deeply grateful to those men who stand at our side.
Today and all days, I call on my lady-friends, women in body and/or spirit, to stand in who they are. Sometimes that’s the biggest battle of all, but know that there are so many others who have your back and love you for that honesty, integrity and bravery. Whether our weapon is a sword, pen, wand or knitting needle, know that we are all Wonder Women at heart.Wonder Woman

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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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Writing Process

A few people have asked about my ‘Process’ – that dreaded method by which authors are supposed to sit down and write each day. Not just authors actually, but all creative people. Because we are but machines, cranking out Art no matter what’s going on in our lives…

I am joking there, but only a bit. It is important to have some sort of routine, like a workday in a regular office, which encourages the inspiration to flow.

Sometimes for me, it happens randomly. Quite often, ideas will happen when I’m walking the dogs, and I have to rush home to jot things down while ‘in the zone’. Or I have a dictaphone app to record the ideas for when I’m back. Then I can get on with enjoying the walk, and see what other ideas may come up (and they usually do).

This year, however, I have A Plan. This January, I want to get into the writing habit of Daily Words. Ideally 1000 words per day, hopefully more, sometimes less. Or none. But that’s all ok.

I read a lovely quote last week, which said even if you write 300 words a day, you’ll soon have a full book’s worth. This is true. Happily, I find it very difficult to write so little once I’ve started! But 1000 words is around a single blog post, so that seems a reasonable target.

Yesterday, there were no words. My brain would not let me. So I tried to distract it in other ways. I finished the second sleeve of a jumper I’ve been knitting (since Summer, as I had an attack of Fear and put it aside because it seemed too daunting). Now I just have to sew in the ends, and it’s done!

Something creative, every day. Ideally, words. Sometimes those words will be nonsense. But they are there, and I got myself in a place to allow them to come.

I carry a notebook and pen, or the aforementioned dictaphone app. Who knows what will appear in them? Again, setting the space.

I’m reading, as research usually lends itself to ideas. At other times, when engaged with mindless knitting or a fun movie, another Good Thought will pop into being. Catch it, make a note – slot it into the rest of the writing wherever it seems best.

The file currently on my laptop called ‘Book 3’ is a mess at the moment. A good mess, mind, with lists of ideas, key words, an introduction and several random chapters. Once it gets to a certain size, I’ll start editing, moving things around, realizing bits that I’ve forgotten and generally whipping it into shape.

In the meantime, I know that those words are there. My subconscious will be busy with them, allowing those new thoughts to appear, listening for ideas from other people (and very random sources!)… being open. Because every day, there’s the potential to let that creativity flow. I sit at my desk and…

In case you were wondering, today’s words have already been done. So far, at least. This is just a bonus.

What are you doing with your creativity today?

Addendum: Here’s my ‘muse’ Fen, who ensures that I’m always having regular breaks away from my desk:

fen jan 19 (2)

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Quiet

I seem to be following themes this year. The path is a winding one, leading to new places and revisiting old from a different direction. Sometimes we move in circles, or get caught in whirlpools, until we’re ready to move forward – or get thrown forcibly on to the next challenge!

It’s Yuletide, the centre of the Christmas season for the world outside my window. So much is going on, with the news full of chaos and uncertainty. People are having to take stock, to actively consider what’s important to them… because 2019 may bring deep and personal changes. Apathy, ignorance or abdication of responsibility will not be an option.

For now though, I sit. I haven’t wanted to write. I haven’t wanted my voice to drop into that ocean of media. It’s midwinter. The word that sums up life for me right now is ‘Quiet’.

That’s not to say things have been quiet. I’ve been battling hard over recent months, and making it through is not always a certainty. But I’m still here.

The latest fight has been against inner voices telling me that nothing I do makes a difference. That my own voice may as well be silent, for it adds nothing. I’m not wanted. I’m not here.

I pause as I write these words. They may seem mad – well, they are! They are irrational, provably false. When you’re in your own dark places, these words ring so loud, it’s almost impossible to block or even attempt to dispute them.

But I hold on. I take a deep breath. I speak.

I call out for help as best I can, and while I’ve been notably ignored by the systems that should be in place to assist (an overwhelmed NHS), friends have more than proved their love by listening, sharing, sending gifts and kindness across the miles. More than anything, I’ve wanted to post myself somehow to where they are, to show my gratitude in person! Because I want them to know how much they¬† have helped in my fight.

It’s easy to feel isolated when it’s dark. You can’t see anyone around, can’t hear them… you feel so alone. But even a whisper will be picked up by someone. Friends care enough to listen, to hold space (even across the Interweb), to join you in the wish for peace and healing.

A dear friend provided much needed humour and distraction this week, reminding me of a quote from a favourite TV show: ‘Family don’t end with blood.’ She didn’t realize at the time, but that brought me to tears – because it’s deeply true. Your family are those who are there for you, who step up fearlessly because they love you and will fight alongside you without a second thought. They don’t hide when times get tough; they sneak into the blanket fort alongside you (and bring snacks).

A shared image or phrase. A simple ‘hey, how’s it going?’ The touch of a virtual hand at your shoulder. These things cost so little, yet can mean everything.

So I sit, quiet and alone. But still breathing. Still able to reach out to those who are there. I try my best to use my word-powers for good, after all, so the least I can do is honour those who listen – and help in return, as much as I can.

For me, this midwinter is about cutting through the noise to find the inner truth. Hold that quiet space within, just sit and be. You can do this; even if you need to take yourself physically away for a while, to take a break from the seasonal busyness. Seek out that light burning inside you, and let it warm you for a little while. Remember what’s important – and feel those who love you for it be with you, be it in body or spirit.

Deep in the darkness, the fire burns, and with it the bravery and strength needed to move forward in Yourself.

Try to feel the Truth of this time of year. The lights and the laughter, the sharing and gifts (not always tangible!). We do our best, whatever that may be. We set our space, hold ourselves firm, stretch out with our roots and prepare for the months ahead. We’ve adventures to face together.

Season’s blessings, dear ones.

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Addendum: For those of you who’ve been kind enough to support me on Patreon, I’m sending a little seasonal gift – a small rite just for you, in the spirit of the season but also in the light of my thoughts here.

I can’t thank you enough for supporting me, lovely friends. I’ve definitely got plans for you all next year!

Yuletide blessings x

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