Posts Tagged love

A Listening Heart

Imbolc has passed. We’re still feeling the chill of winter, but the snowdrops herald the imminent Spring. The sun is with us for a few more minutes each day, and all around, I see projects slowly beginning to bud…

It’s been a long winter. I’m not going to recall the turbulent times we live in, but we’ve all felt the length of January like never before, it seems.

I’ve spent the winter months trying my best to survive, literally and figuratively. My health has been poor, and despite all of the urges from The Internet to seek the help that I’m apparent entitled to, I’ve been met with walls of silence – or at best, suggestions to ‘go for a nice walk’ and suchlike. Imagine eyerolls here. Then imagine the tears.

Over and over, each rebuff hurts. When it takes all of your strength to reach out, to be told you’re either not sick enough or that there isn’t anything to be done is crushing.

For years, ever since a GP told me to ‘go away and cheer up’, I’ve managed. Recently, though, moving forward has felt next to impossible.

I’ve read all the books, tried all the techniques. Hell, I’ve written my own! What more can I do?

One evening, I found a secret stash of Bravery and reached out to a friend. Professionally and personally, tentatively and with slight fear of rebuttal (based purely on experience from every other quarter!).

I was heard. Such a small thing, but I was heard. Helpful suggestions were made, which I will follow up, but the main power came from the fact that someone heard my cries, understood, and listened.

This has made such a difference. A voice from outside my head, telling me truths that I was unable to tell myself. That’s all. It is ok – it really is. There is hope. I can do this.

Sometimes the battles we fight seem hopeless purely because of the weight of time, as we’ve been fighting for so long. I can understand how people give up.

The simple but profound gift of a listening heart made all the difference. Quiet invitations to shared healing events. Belief in me, when I had none in myself. Feeling seen, held, heard.

These are gifts that we can give to each other. Sometimes I can’t – which is when I know things are bad – but I try as often as I can, when called upon. I try to hear that mystic tap on the shoulder. Deep breath and…

I’m stepping up. Creating Things to help. Setting space, reaching out to like-minded folks. The Cauldron of Calm will be happening this year. Message me if you’d like to join in.

As the world stands confused and hurting, we need to come together to help each other. Every individual can make a difference. We can try.

There’s a lot of 2020 yet ahead, but I’m doing my best to stand up again – and find my own strength along the way. By reaching out with a hand to hold and be held.

Much love, my friends.

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Truth in Word and Deed

Recently, I’ve been rather quieter than usual. I realized today that this is since the recent UK Government Elections. With all the noise leading up to it, and then the fallout after, I didn’t really feel that I had anything to say.

No – that’s not quite right. I had a lot to say. It just felt rather like yelling into a void. A void of anger, disappointment, soundbites and oversimplification.

Today, Nimue Brown wrote about Truth in her blog, when spoken as part of a Druid’s role. I’ve also spoken recently about my doubts on the word ‘Druid’ as a label, as it doesn’t quite encompass what I do… but this Truth absolutely does.

I’ve been quiet because I’ve felt the need to pull back right now. The Yuletide season is full of light and noise, and I can’t engage with that this year. Physically, mentally and spiritually, it feels wrong for me.

The image I keep coming back to is actually from what may be considered a ‘seasonal’ movie – not because it’s set at Christmas (it really isn’t!), but because this series is traditionally shown at this time of year, as a fun adventure for all ages.

For the past few weeks, I’ve felt like Obi-Wan Kenobi in Star Wars (Episode 4, the original film). Suddenly hit by something, he puts a hand to his head and totters across a room to sit down.

You know the quote, I’m sure. But it’s the whole image for me.

A little melodramatic, but the energy of sheer confusion, powerlessness and wanting to lash out… it’s been overwhelming.

And yet, it’s times like these that demand we speak up. It’s more important than ever, in fact. To stand, as Druid, Priest, human being; to console, protest, debate, find sense in the story that’s unfolding right before our eyes.

15 million people (estimated) didn’t vote in that recent Election. We are at once so disengaged from the process of running this country that we all have an opinion, but feel that our voices make no difference. Suddenly silenced – as on social media, when expressing an opinion and being shouted down. The one who wins is the one who shouts loudest.

I’m not sure how this will all unfold. I’m not sure that anyone could have ‘won’ the political game during this round. But – speaking as someone who is on medication to literally prevent the urge to do this very thing – I know that we cannot give up.

We must keep talking, and also listening. We must relearn empathy, consideration and motivation, why others act as they do. We must challenge, educate and inspire. We hope… but then we must move. Do. Step forward.

I’ve felt for a few days that I needed to write this – I just wasn’t sure how. I’d silenced myself. Then today, I was watching a man who is already considered a great storyteller, reflecting my feelings (and frustrations) perfectly whilst talking about another movie:

“Here you have this event – on the one hand, it’s a beautiful thing, right? We’re all going to get together, we’re going to hold hands, and somehow that’s going to cure hunger. The illusion that we’re contributing to something that actually is making change, at opposed to something that kind of makes us feel better, and absolves us of our responsibility to enact actual change.”

Jordan Peele, speaking about the duality of America as depicted in the 1980s ‘Hands Across America’ movement in the movie ‘Us’.

The noise of this season is coming together with the frustration of these times. We can’t make change while we’re busy worrying about our own problems: paying for gifts, sorting food, travel, the needs of relatives. Yes, community and sharing, but with more emphasis on image than truth.

We get together and talk about even more problems that we see: those in power, those without, immigration, homelessness, rich versus poor. And then we return to our lives and enter the next year. Back to ‘normal’, whatever that means.

Yes, such debates happen amongst those with privilege, to some extent. But that’s not helpful either. Guilt or blame gets us nowhere.

My Druid phrase comes back to me again, right now:

What am I Doing?

My husband is heading out tonight, working Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to help those in need. I’m here at home, wondering what I can do.

I can speak. I can write. I can make things to help people. I can listen when called upon.

I’m honestly not sure what else I can do just yet, but I’ve no doubt I’ll find out as we enter 2020. The challenge, as always, is to stand up. To reach out. To engage.

It’s so very difficult right now. But I cannot stay silent. It’s knowing what to say – and then what to Do. It’s overwhelming, but I feel that I can’t stay silent any longer.

Season’s blessings, my friends. Stay strong, remember that you are loved and that you are more powerful than you think. Use your words well, moving forward.

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Everyday Bravery

Many times in the past decade, I’ve been stared at. I’ve been asked why I’m dressed in a certain way, heard some (frankly ridiculous) jokes and generally been on the receiving end of some very visible confusion.

Mostly this is because I’m Out in Public wearing my ‘work clothes’ – robe, cloak, staff etc. But sometimes it’s when folk see my tattoos, or a particular t-shirt statement.

Going back even further, I was sometimes stopped when out and about because I was dressed all in black, including hair and trenchcoat. Apparently this was fine when one is a teenager, less so when an adult.

I have never understood how some people can accost a random stranger in public and berate them for how they look. Even light mockery. I learned to have a small smile on standby, so that I didn’t reply with something rude; that way, at least one of us is being polite.

But then years ago again, I quickly learned what was acceptable and what was not, through being openly laughed at and ridiculed when I failed to conform. I vividly remember wearing an outfit that I absolutely loved (a long hippy skirt and top, nothing too shocking) and rushing back to my room to change, blushing wildly, because of that terrible laughter before I even left the house.

I still don’t quite understand that, either. How wearing something that I absolutely love can cause such a negative reaction. How does this threaten people so badly? What harm does an unusual hair colour, period clothing or simply expressing yourself do?

Sometimes it’s a knee-jerk reaction, with no malicious intent. That’s (relatively) ok. Other times…

Apparently it’s my fault, of course. For daring to Go Outside not looking like everyone else. For not aspiring to that societal goal of Being Normal (whatever that means).

Which leads me to the times that I have called out to others in public.

I’ve told random goths how beautiful they look. I’ve run down the street after reenactors to compliment their efforts. It can be as simple as ‘I hope you don’t mind my saying, but you look fantastic.’

Nobody ever does mind this. There can be surprise, of course, at this unexpected woman complimenting them, but hey – it could be worse, right? See above for examples. And that’s not even mentioning when words become physical violence.

I see it on their faces as I approach. The mental ‘brace for impact’, the anticipation of a kick – and the surprise and pleasure when the interaction is actually safe and friendly.

I try to hold this in my mind when people approach me. I’ve often said how blessed I feel that the reactions to me are 99% positive (and 1% stupid). I’ve yet to be beaten up for my looks.

I know that I’m lucky in that respect. I hear the stories of trans folk who suffer by just being who they are in public. Goths beaten to death. Breastfeeding mothers verbally abused.

I see it all around, and feel it on my worst days. How dare I show my face. Anticipating that laughter again, the mockery, the judgement.

But I am trying to be brave as I grow older. To retort if safe to do so. Engaging with the speaker can be quite enlightening sometimes, as I explain what I’m about.

Other days, I don’t have the strength to do much except keep walking, with my head held up. That can be the hugest of victories. The naysayers didn’t win. The bastards aren’t grinding me down.

I actually feel it becoming paradoxically easier and more difficult as I grow older. Because while I care less what people think of me than I did as a youngster, I’m also aware that ‘mutton dressed as lamb’ is a Thing. Unfortunately. So I’m still exploring what I’m brave enough to do, day to day.

The world can be a scary place, of course. By walking my walk when I can, I try to shine a light for others. By affirming that folks look amazing just for being who they are and that I’m happier for seeing them doing their thing, can be a tremendously powerful act.

It’s not just about me, I know that. But when I’m stuck inside my head, with the world pressing loudly against me, standing up as Me, in my Truth, is a miracle. Sharing that validation with others is a gift that I hope I can always keep giving.

Go be You out there today, lovely friends. Know that I’m cheering you on.

This post is dedicated to all of those gorgeous people at Witchfest, with their finery and wonderful happy smiles, holding safe space for the community. I’m looking forward to wearing my new feathered hat in public too.

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Lessons in Love

No, I’m not referring to the 80s song of that name 😂

I believe that you reach a stage in spiritual practice when it’s not about the ‘special’ ritual moments – although those are important – but the lessons that you suddenly recognise in everyday life, happening all around you. Themes, coincidences (ahem), general synchronicities that you realize when you’re ready to see them.

My life really has been a rollercoaster lately, with lovely highs and deep lows. Some of it is about energy management, but a lot seems out of my control. I simply have to admit that I have to rest NOW – or I (literally) fall over.

I’ve also noticed that some aspects of my life are shining with inspiration – almost a ‘pick me, do this!’ spirit. Others are unbearable.

Clothing, for example. I have many items from back when I had to appear ‘office smart’… but despite not being worn for ages, they’re falling apart. Other things are physically disintegrating before my eyes.

But then I’m rediscovering old treasures that I’d forgotten about, or which had been hidden somehow. Interestingly, many of these were gifted to me: a battered leather jacket, for example, with many stories in its folds.

It’s almost as if what is no longer needed is removing itself from my life. Or I’m having good luck finding new things that suit me better now.

And who is this person? Well…

So many days see me wishing I could have my old life back, before I was ill. But that disintegrated too, and for a reason. I love being able to do what I do now, even if it means different priorities, ways of living and relationships.

I’m constantly staggered by the number of amazing friends telling me that they actually love me. You know who you are!

This was initially very bizarre to me – I was brought up to not be expressive in that way (or learned that it led to mockery), so friends openly stating their love was something I just didn’t know how to react to. ‘Errr… thankyou?’

Sorry for such a lame reaction. I blame being British. We get confused at Big Emotion.

I’m slowly learning to allow myself to accept this. What true Friendship-Love means – and that I’m even worthy of it. Because being the beneficiary of such a statement is a huge honour for me. It’s absolutely no small thing, to be loved.

My sense of ‘comfortably normal’ is being moved. My life is evolving. I’m having to own who I am and what I do, and this means what is no longer needed – be it attitudes or jackets – can be put aside or it will fall apart.

Sometimes it feels as if a gentle hand is pushing me along, making these lessons clear. I have to trust that. The worst that has happened so far is that I’ve carried on anyway and had jeans split in the middle of the road (fortunately just outside my house!).

My true friends are patient as they see this happening, and I love them for it. Others have fallen away, and perhaps that’s for the best.

I’m moving forward into the life I have now. Still doing my best. Occasionally messing up and getting a lesson out of it.

But I’m learning to hold on to love, both given by and to me. What is valued and reciprocated will stay. New things will appear. I will be surprised all over again. I am allowed to be rid of what I can no longer bear; it’s not worth my (limited) energy.

As the leaves fall outside, so do many aspects of life inside. I’m curious as to what this winter will bring.

Much love, my friends.

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A Sudden Sense of Liberty

A while ago, I was seeking an image, for a deity who had been poking me. Nothing seemed to ‘click’, until…

I cannot draw well, but this was a start.

Fast-forward to yesterday. Through lots of upheaval and a near-cancellation, I sat to have the final version tattooed onto my wrist, by Saz from Human Canvas.

As I sat down, I heard the overhead music, and said deity singing along gently as they watched us, as the ink was drilled into me with a feeling like burning…

And I’ve been reminded of some fun with Photoshop that happened a while ago:

We discussed synchronicity as I was inked. This has absolutely been a journey of listening and moving forward. And I know that I’m not done yet.

Sharing just as much as I want to right now. But this is how my process works – inspiration, awareness and action.

Step, step, step.

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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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Small Magics

(Cross-posted with Drops of Awen).

To paraphrase many notable occultists, Magic is the art of changing consciousness at will.

We all do this, all the time – but unconsciously. We let ourselves be influenced by outside forces, as our attention is moved from one thought to the next.

But when we take charge of our consciousness, with intentional and will-power, we can feel the change happen.

As I walk this path, I often say that Paganism is a constant practice (in the same way that we practice magic). We learn about ourselves and our connections with others, and create change with our thoughts, words and actions.

Today… perhaps a simple change, but to me, a profound one.

I felt myself beginning to slip, to spiral down into the depression. Quickly – time to take action.

Moving is the first step. Sometimes I don’t even get that far, which is why I usually have a book or a knitting project to hand.

Then Doing, something which brings me back to myself, usually through happiness, an activity I enjoy. Alter the negative feeling, grab onto something to stop the spiralling fall.

I distract myself with this, even though the anxiety-voices are telling me that I have things to do, I should be working! But no.

Right now, I’m spending this hour in an indulgent, sweet-smelling Bimble bath. I’m reading a book. I’m washing myself thoroughly, then using pleasant scented Lush oil afterwards. I wrap myself in a soft dressing-gown, and fuss the pups (who’re always glad I survived The Bath).

I can now feel mind and body relaxed. The tension has dissipated, the worried voices gone quiet. I was able to beat it (this time). It’s not always so simple, but I celebrate this victory.

Each win tells me that I can do it, and keep on doing it. Even on the worst days.

I’m now sharing this, cross-posting so that in these small words can themselves be a magic spell, to inspire in turn.

If you need it, feel my hand reaching out to you. We can get through it, dear ones.

Small magics, together.

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