In this very moment

I sit on the porch steps, the early morning sun
bathing my face, bringing light, Vitamin D,
hope and levity to my spirit.
The cool air is sweet breath on my tired skin;
refreshing, calming, healing.
The crickets' and birds' dawn-breaking song mixes
with traffic in an early morning symphony.
Hope bubbles up inside; joy and gratitude to be
in this very moment with myself, the Universe.
I am alive; my spirit is free to soar
or to rest as the need arises.
Today I will smile, I will cry in equal measure,
and each time the brightness in my eye will be Love.

On the trail of the Goddess

Deep peace I breathe into you,
O weariness, here:
O ache, here!

I've been absent quite a while here, as my readers have been reminding me. The simple and true answer is that I've been off enjoying my life, very thoroughly. What was I doing last year? Choosing the path that led me here. Walking a winding path, one which I could only see one step ahead--sometimes even less, it seemed. I danced in joyful fields of wildflowers where the sun and the breeze played with my hair and where the air was alive with bees and butterflies. I lingered in wild patches of strawberries, savoring the fruit to my heart's content while the heady scent of honeysuckle encircled me like a crown. At times, I lay beside gently moving streams, with my feet in the cool water and my head on a blanket of moss, and fell asleep dreaming of distant places. Often, though, I painstakingly stumbled and scratched my way through the thickets and ancient woods under a new moon--blind, stumbling, and unfamiliar with the calls of the night. Sometimes the canopy was so thick that it seemed as night even long after Selene had ceded to her brother Helios' diurnal course.

And now I am here. It's just a pause on the journey, to rest up for the next uphill climb. There is beauty all around me, there is joy in work and service, there is companionship and laughter. There is enthusiasm to the point of over-commitment. Then there is withdrawal while I catch my breath. Within the peace, I can still feel the tremors under the surface. I know it will not wait long. It has waited long enough.

Yet I am unsure where to tread--both paths ahead promise deep joy and deep pain. Both involve gut-wrenching sacrifice. And I am the only one who can choose which way is right for me--which life-long pain I am willing to endure? More importantly-- which joy am I willing to risk everything else to have in my life? You see, I want children. My husband does not. It has taken me a very long time to say what I want. Both of us, for that matter.

I am not planning to go into his reasons here. Suffice it to say that it is clear this was very difficult and looking into his eyes I see he is speaking his truth as it is right now. The general advice I hear so often cannot be applied so glibly here:"he just needs time," "every father is scared before they have children, "he shouldn't worry, he'd make a great father," "he just needs to get over his fears," "it's always different when it's your own child." The time for waiting has passed, and these pieces of advice all come with the assumption that he will change his mind; that he's just confused about what he wants. Relationship rule #1: Never count on changing the other person. While there is certainly a possibility, in any situation, that a person can examine the root of their fears or ideas, and change their paradigm, this does not mean it can be forced or that the result will be an expected one. The onus is on me to decide what I want to do with this information.

I have not been able to go far down the path in my mind--my emotions run over me like the swell of a tsunami and threaten to drown me. Every time I think of something new that I love now, that I think I would love, that I would miss, that I would miss out on, that I would grieve for, possibly for the rest of my life--I quickly withdraw. I have no concept of how to deal with this. How does one choose between the man they love, and the possibility of being a mother to a precious child? Especially when there is no guarantee I will find what I want if I pursue the latter avenue.

I have talked to many of my trusted friends. They each speak to me from their own experience. Some have been in my place and have made a choice. And when I hear them, I feel alternately empowered and guilty. I hear compassion and yet I also I hear their regret and sometimes I almost hear judgment. Even when they don't mean it that way, hearing how they approach relationships and what they think they would do, sometimes it makes me feel bad for even considering a different choice. What will they think of me? What will I think of me? How will I live with myself; with my regrets? With my anger, with my sadness, my grief? But I must not focus on my fears, for they will hold me back. I must find where my greater truth lies. But I'm still drawing blanks here. Am I betraying my own core values by considering leaving in order to find someone willing to raise a family with me? Am I only half of a woman if I choose not to experience the ups and downs of pregnancy, birth, and raising a child? Will anyone remember me if I am never a grandmother?

Through the ages, the Goddess has been portrayed in three personae representing different stages of a woman's life: the maiden, the mother, and the wise crone. I am on her trail and now I long to experience the fullness of the middle phase of my life. I long to walk hand-in-hand with my husband 'til death do us part.' And I long to have a small hand holding mine on the other side, skipping merrily along. Oh, dear crone, help me. Help me through this darkness. I cannot do this alone.

Deep peace I breathe into you,

O weariness, here:
O ache, here!
Deep peace, a soft white dove to You;
Deep peace, a quiet rain to you;
Deep peace, an ebbing wave to you!
Deep peace, red wind of the east from you;
Deep peace, grey wind of the west to You;
Deep peace, dark wind of the north from you;
Deep peace, blue wind of the south to you!
Deep peace, pure red of the flame to you;
Deep peace, pure white of the moon to you;
Deep peace, pure green of the grass to you;
Deep peace, pure brown of the earth to you;
Deep peace, pure grey of the dew to you,
Deep peace, pure blue of the sky to you!

Deep peace of the running wave to you,

Deep peace of the flowing air to you,

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you,

Deep peace of the sleeping stones to you!

Deep peace of the Yellow Shepherd to you,

Deep peace of the Wandering Shepherdess to you,

Deep peace of the Flock of Stars to you,

Deep peace from the Son of Peace to you,

Deep peace from the heart of Mary to you,

And from Briget of the Mantle

Deep peace, deep peace!

And with the kindness too of the Haughty Father Peace!

In the name of the Three who are One, Peace!

And by the will of the King of the Elements, Peace! Peace!

the dominion of dreams : under a dark star - fiona macleod - 1895

Spring has arrived at last!

Today at 7:44am EST, the spring equinox begins. At that time, I will be in traffic on Lafayette heading to my new job as Admin Assistant for Rappahannock Goodwill Industries. Is it a coincidence that this new beginning occurs on the same day when the light begins to take dominance over the darkness in the sky? Perhaps, but I am taking it as a herald of this new chapter in my life. This is not the only positive development in my life of late--my neglect of my blog since January has been in direct proportion to the influx of positive energy that I am now able to direct back out into the world through various passions and pursuits. Tonight I will gather with friends to celebrate these new beginnings. Maybe I will see you there, maybe I will see you at another time and place yet to come. Either way, when we meet you will see the light in the heavens reflected back to you in my eyes and in my smile.

The Story of a Garden

As part of the preamble to my Fellowship's annual stewardship campaign, a few members are asked to give a short speech on "What UU Means to Me." Since this is the first bit of writing I've done in a while, I decided to post it on my blog. This is my testimony.

~~~

Three years ago this weekend, I signed the book to become a member of the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Fredericksburg. It hardly feels like so much time has past, but they have been years filled with much laughter and growth. I would like to share with you a bit of the journey that has brought me here.

Since I was young, I was drawn to spiritual things, and have always taken my faith seriously. But a decade ago I would not have guessed the direction my path would take me. My faith journey is the story of a garden. There have been times of abundance filled with growth and fruit and long days of sunshine. And there have been fallow times—long winters, cold and dark. But always, buried in the soil, was the seed for the next season’s harvest, waiting for the right conditions to sprout forth.

I grew up in a Methodist church. My parents took us to church fairly regularly until sometime in middle school. I always longed to understand the deeper mysteries of life and to capture a lasting feeling of transcendence and oneness with God. In high school, I began searching on my own and opened myself up to the Divine. I began within the structure that I already knew—the Christian faith and the Bible.

One evening, I was overwhelmed with the feeling that Love was being poured into me, like water into a vessel, and there was so much that it was running over. This outpouring nourished my spirit and deepened my faith. My roots grew strong and I shot up towards the Sun. The Light was incredible. By holding on to my never-wavering belief in that Love, I made it through some rough times, including my first experience with major depression during my senior year in high school.

In college my faith continued to grow and mature. I joined a Christian group on campus, and later a local non-denominational church. Finding others who spoke the same language as me was comforting and confirming. I experienced synchronicities that could not be explained logically. My personal Bible study was always a step ahead of the lectures in my Old and New Testament class, and often I would be the only one in the lecture hall who could answer questions about obscure passages and references. I had a knack for giving perfect gifts—things that had been secretly wanted or needed; things that provided a strong sense of care and Love at work in that person’s life. And I was closely in tune with people’s feelings, and could sense when our Bible study group strayed from an edifying discussion to more of a dogmatic one. My body language, sometimes just a look or a slight shake of my head, signaled to our leader it was time to refocus the group. Looking back, I believe it may have been my own discomfort with some of the more dogmatic issues that allowed me to sense this feeling in others.

During this time, I had growing uneasiness with a few larger questions that seemed inconsistent with the Love that my faith was based on. What weighed most heavily on my mind was that I was being taught that faith in Jesus was the only way into heaven; that anyone who did not hear or did not accept this message would be damned. I had many friends who had rejected Christianity, some who were bitterly antagonistic on the subject, and it felt like my faith was a barrier between us. I couldn’t share that joyful part of my life with them, and it hurt to have my faith ridiculed. It also seemed clear that they had been hurt in some way by the religion and probably felt equally frustrated that people like me did not see things the way they did. Yet I loved them dearly.

The other question was whether homosexuality was a sin. I was taught that it was, but again, it did not make sense to me that God would punish people for loving, especially if sexuality was not a choice. It was difficult to face these and other questions since I had found so much joy and Truth in the Christian faith. For a long time, I left these mysteries to God. If I needed to understand, I trusted Him to show me.

There are many things that cast seeds into our life, and we in turn cast seeds into the hearts of others that we encounter. Sometimes we don’t realize the effect of our words and actions on others, but even the most casual encounter can be life-changing. Thus it was, in my life, that seeds were being planted that would later come to fruition.

One such seed planted in my life in the summer of 1997 came in the form of the movie “Contact,” which is based on a novel by Carl Sagan. Without going into too much detail, it is a moving story of Dr. Ellie Arroway, a scientist who has an incredible experience that she cannot explain but also cannot deny. For me, the message can be summed up in the few sentences spoken by Palmer Joss at the end of the movie. He says, “As a person of faith, I am bound by a different covenant than Dr. Arroway. But our goal is one and the same—the pursuit of truth.” Those words took root in my heart immediately, and helped facilitate understanding between myself and a dear but estranged friend.

In the following months, I shared my world of faith and my friend shared his world of philosophy. I learned the language of Kierkegaard, Sartre, Heidegger, and others. It started to make sense, and I even agreed with some of it. Two themes stemming from those discussions come immediately to mind; the first—that how Jesus lived was more important than how he died, and the second—that we follow our own “Christ-hood” by pursuing our true selves. In other words, living an authentic life is the path to salvation.

The idea of an authentic path as a path to God made sense to me. Even within my Christian circles, I had observed that each person still had a unique journey. Things that I felt necessary to prune from my life were not always required of others, and vice versa. People were drawn to different denominations; different ways of observing their faith. But to me this was not a conflict; we simply had different things to learn. Although I had not been able to put it into words at the time, my non-Christian friends were so dear to me in part because they were very much alive. They had the same spark inside as I did; they were following their own authenticity as I had been. We were not different, and any feeling of separateness was an illusion in our minds only. It was an illusion that I had been taught to believe, one that I was slowly beginning to reject.

After I got married (to that same philosopher friend), my husband and I settled and attended a church much like the one we had gone to in college. But due to our work schedules, we were not able to attend any of the church’s social functions and thus did not feel connected to the congregation. After about a year, we drifted away. For nearly the next five years, we were without a spiritual home. I was bereft of the community and fellowship that I loved.

Occasionally, we would gather the energy to visit a new church. At one point, all the churches we visited were doing their confirmation services. This included one rather unusual church, the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Fredericksburg. Rather than “confirmation,” each youth stood up to give a summary of their beliefs. It was a touch shocking to someone who had been as fundamentalist as I, especially as some of the statements were phrased as a rejection of Christianity specifically, the faith that had meant so much to me. But I did appreciate the freedom the children had been given to find their own way, and the acceptance of individuality they received from their parents and their community. At the end of the service, we were asked to write our advice for these young people on large posters. I took a red marker and wrote “All you need is love.” While I was not ready for the UU at that time, once again, a seed had been planted.

The next time I got the urge to make a round of different churches, they were all doing their anti-gay sermons. It was as if they had all synchronized a national agenda on the topic. The Universe was conspiring against me, it seemed. I met some lovely people, but I could not return to a place that taught that Love was wrong.

I continued to struggle with the conflict between my growing convictions and the traditional interpretation of my religion. In time, I realized what the conflict inside me really was. I was being asked to decide for myself what I believed, rather than leave these hard questions for others to explain to me, or to trust “God” with them. I had to decide for myself where I would stand.

These five years had been a very dark time for me, spiritually. It was winter, and it was a very long winter. But sometimes, seeds need a period of cold before they can germinate. And sometimes, seeds need fire. It seems that I needed both. The winter was provided to me. The fire was my own choice. I could either ignore the questions and stay where I was, in a perpetual winter of thorny branches and half-remembered whispers of joy, or I could declare my authentic convictions, and in doing so set fire to everything that I knew, waiting to see what survived. Despite my fears, I chose the fire.

The fire burned down the walls surrounding my garden; walls I had barely noticed before. The next time I visited the UUFF with friends, I knew it was home. Instead of a carefully cultivated garden, I found myself in a large meadow under a wide cerulean sky. Instead of different varieties of the same flower growing together, I saw before me a wild range of vegetation, trees, and wildflowers. It was a beautiful world of biodiversity, each organism filling a unique role. Above me, the same Sun I was so familiar with shone down upon us all.

Here I have found a place I can grow and explore without limitation. I have met so many people at the UUFF, each with Truth to share. I have found the warmth of Love and friendship. I know that no matter what challenge I face, I am supported without judgment or expectation. I am receiving tools to strengthen my body, mind, and spirit. And, in the other faith traditions that I explore here, I see reflections of the faith I once knew—Truths that are universal. Once again, my faith is being confirmed and bolstered.

I am a wildflower. I am still evolving; I am still blossoming. I still need the rain; I still reach for the Sun. And more now than ever before, I am in awe at the beauty around me.

photo by Anna Neave Crissman

~~~

Truth is one; sages call it by various names,
It is one Sun which reflects in all ponds.
It is the one water which slakes the thirst of all;
It is the one air which sustains all life.
It is the one fire which shines in all houses.

Colors of the cows may be different, but milk is white.
Flowers and bees may be different, but honey is the same.
Systems of Faith may be different, but God is One.
As the rain dropping from the sky wends its way toward the ocean,
So the prayers offered in all faiths reach the One God, who is supreme.
~Rig Veda