The quiet and the wind today are
balms to my soul. Sitting looking out
over the canyon, another poem came:
This Earth Was Given
This earth was given.
Not to us.
It was not given to us,
It was just given,
Life arising out of itself,
Blazing forth,
Blossoming forth,
Birthed into being
For its own sake.
We are such fools
To think we own it,
Control it,
Master it,
As if it were here
For us and us alone.
No, it is here
Because it is here.
It is glorious because
It can be,
Generous because
That is its nature,
Beautiful because there is
No other way for it to be.
This earth was given,
As we were given.
And the only way
to be together
Is for us
To bow down.
We are reaching the end of our time
together, and today are to spend some time integrating what we have learned about our
mandate. There are so many pieces, so
many thoughts, insights, instructions and possibilities that it’s all a
jumble. What we clearly have, all of us,
is devastating grief.
The teacher says she hears me speaking
with more authority. I consider her
impressions of me from previous times here, and find them interesting. She has seen me as hesitant, quiet, holding
back. Not how I see myself, except for the quiet piece. I like to
speak with an economy of words. I grow
impatient, as the teacher does not seem to, with those who speak endlessly. I don’t like my judgmentalism, but there it
is.
I say, “Maybe I’m stepping more into
the elder role.” I think I have been
hesitant because I’ve gotten the feedback that I have too strong a
voice. I’m one of those in Eve Ensler’s
poem “who go too far and feel too much.”
Certainly, my mother tried to tone me down, calm me down, socialize me
into acceptability. I thought I’d gotten
out from under that program, but perhaps it has snagged me again. Maybe it’s time I stop worrying about how I
come off and just say and do what I need to say and do. I’d like to do it with a full and open heart,
though. Full of the fire of life and
Spirit.
So, what are the threads? Elder.
Grandmother. Grief. Hawaii. Turtles.
Whales. Plastic. (See Part 21). Metabolizing or transforming energy. Revitalizing the sacredness of the earth in my
city, bleached dead like the coral in the sea.
Speak to the trees. Plant a
tree. Carry fire.
I am one who wears the mantle of
Elder. I am one who carries and receives
the blessings of fire. I am one who is
of the earth and who waters it with my tears.
I am one who is honored by and listens to the voice of Whale, who will
not place Turtle between myself and danger.
I am one who will question my beliefs.
I am one who is blessed and who can bless (to quote Yeats) and I am one
who will gratefully receive that blessing and inhabit the calling brought forth
from it. I am one who will use my voice
and my words to be with Earth, Tree, Whale, Turtle, grandchildren, people in my
path and on my path.
Whale asked me to say this poem of mine:
We need each other now.
We need each other now.
In truth, we always have.
But as things disintegrate,
as chaos and disorder reign,
we become like bones,
scattered and
stripped clean of all
that is inessential.
Let’s reassemble ourselves,
the way Isis did with Osiris,
or La Loba with her wolf bones.
Let’s find a new configuration,
this part mine, that part yours –
Perhaps something original
will emerge, or
something ancient.
Let’s light a candle now, friends,
so together we might see
how to begin.
So, if I walk out
of here and out of this sacred canyon as Elder, what does that look like? Carrying grief and the knowledge of demise
that is unbearable. Carrying fire and
the tears that water the parched earth.
Carrying the charge of metabolizing the poisonous fires and vapors and
of resacralizing the land. Not putting
Turtle between me and danger. Trying to
eliminate plastic as much as is feasible.
And healing? There is no healing in hospice, other than
the healing of Spirit. It is not about
my healing, that is clear.
I began the week
with a card reading. It was
profound. The card for the past was
Hygeia, healing. The card for the
present was Persephone. She
is always my present. The future was one I call Bone Crone, looking towards very old age and mortality. So, I decided to end the week with another
reading. The past card was Fatigue and
Illness, the present was the Green Man, the living vital presence of the green
world. The future was Holding Hecate’s
Torch. In it, I stand with my partner as
we look out to take the next step.
Hermes is above us, Hecate below, and I carry one of Hecate’s
torches. To me, that speaks of
validation of my elderhood. My blog is Hanging Out with Hecate. I will hang with her still, She who
witnesses, who is the companion. I hold
the flame.
No comments:
Post a Comment