Messages From the Universe

Things On The Blog have been pretty quiet lately, mostly because Things In Real Life have been anything but quiet. IB and I find ourselves with three elderly parents between us who are increasingly reliant on our help with day to day living. As they become less able-bodied and begin to struggle with cognitive issues we've taken on more and more caring duties. It's been one of those situations that has rather snowballed in recent months, in that what was initially just a small amount of extra work has begun to seem all-encompassing. I work days and IB works evenings so his Mum - who now lives with us and is physically very frail - always has someone at home with her if she needs anything. My parents only live a 20 minute drive away, but they are also increasingly reliant on my help so I have had to drastically cut my work schedule so that I have enough time to assist them. Our social life has pretty much shrunk to zero, and we don't even get to spend that much time with each other. 

The last few weeks have been especially stressful, with lots of medical issues and appointments for all three parents, a blizzard of paperwork and officialdom to deal with, the death of several household appliances (why do they all break at once?) and all the kind of SNAFUs usually thrown up when Mercury is in retrograde. I find myself fantasising wistfully about going on retreat - or even just running away for the afternoon to sit in blissful peace in the woods. 

Yesterday as I walked to work after parking the car I was feeling incredibly stressed and overwhelmed by everything, wondering if I am actually strong enough to cope with it all. Part of the pavement was coned off due to some kind of groundworks in progress, so I stepped out into the road to go around the obstruction. As I did, I spotted something on the ground. It looked like a shell, and I wondered how on earth it had got there - and how something as fragile as a shell has survived lying in the middle of the road. I nearly stepped over it, but curiosity got the better of me and I picked it up, expecting to find it was actually just a pebble that looked like a shell. Yet as my fingers closed around it, I realised it really was a shell. 

Now I should mention at this point that this isn't the first time I've found a strange object in my path. I call it pavement divination - when I find these oddities I think of them as messages from the Universe and pay attention to what they may be telling me. A while ago I was working on self-care and heart magic and I found a tiny 'Ace of Hearts' charm in my path while walking to work. I took that as a sign of encouragement that I was on the right track. And of course, there was that whole dead frog thing many years ago. 

I turned the shell over in my hand, and saw that it was filled with cement. I think it had come from  the hard core that had either been excavated during the groundworks, or was waiting to backfill the hole. It seems incredible to me that something as fragile as a shell - even one filled with cement - could have survived being dug up, knocked about, and thrown down onto the road in a town centre. And yet here it was, nestled in the palm of my hand. It had sustained some chips and scratches, but it had weathered it all. 

I smiled, closing my fingers around this small miracle, this battered but resilient treasure. If this small shell can endure the tough times and come out intact then so can I. 

And then the Universe sent another message. As I straightened up, a car horn sounded behind me, reminding me I was still standing in the road. I turned to wave an apology at the driver, only to see it was one of my closest friends driving past and waving in greeting. This is a friend who has always been there for me, someone who I know has my back and who I love dearly. Of all the cars that could have driven by at that moment... It seemed like the Universe wanted to remind me that not only am I resilient enough to get through this challenging period, but that I am lucky enough to have wonderful, loving, supportive people in my life.

My miracle shell is now on my altar, and I will keep it as a token to help me remember in the tough times that I am stronger than I think - and that I am not alone.      

Every Day, There Is Something New...

 

Every day there is something new. This morning, the first cowslips. Yesterday I heard the chatter of swallows for the first time this year (yes, they're back!). And before that, lady's smock, blackthorn blossom, the smell of newly-mown grass, magnolia flowers, a slow worm basking in the sun.

New, and yet familiar. Because I have seen all these things before, they are familiar. But they are new again each year as the seasons turn and the Earth and her beings cycle through life. What a miraculous paradox we live in - and how strange and yet natural that we should take it for granted. It is, after all, the reality we live in.

Thinking on this, I imagine the span of my life like the tightly coiled loops of a telephone cord (yes, the old-fashioned ones when telephones still had cords!). The spiral grows in length, but it coils round and around, coming back to almost the same spot yet NOT the same spot. Somewhere the same, yet a bit further on. Somewhere different, yet a place that can be recognised because the spiral has travelled this route before.

Sometimes the path of our lives is like this. We all have patterns of behaviour that repeat, and sometimes these cause us problems. And it can be so hard to see that it is our repeating patterns causing the difficulties in life. If the same problem in different guises keeps cropping up, it is worth examining it to see how you yourself may be contributing to the dynamic. Recently, I have ended more than one 'friendship' after realising that my role as a 'people pleaser' was enabling certain people to take advantage of me and that I needed to be more firm about my boundaries. My desire to please was leading me to say yes, whether I wanted to or not. It can be hard to make such changes, but it can be done - and we are all works in progress!

And so we continue on, spiralling around and further along. The spiral sometimes makes it hard to see how far we have come, yet look back along its length. Who were you 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 20 years ago? The same, yet different. Always growing, always changing, always revisiting what needs to be revisited, always finding a new way to travel the path.

Every day, there is something new...


        

The 'C' Word, Part 5: Some Closing Thoughts on Closure

It's a brilliantly bright, sunny yet frozen morning as I step outside to tend to the chickens and Spike the gander. Fiercely blue skies over a landscape dusted sparkling white by frost. I tend to the animals and gather kindling for the fire, thinking about the coming end of the year.

I've never been a great one for New Year celebrations - parties and fireworks and Auld Lang Syne - yet in the last few years I have become very focussed on doing magic around the ending of the year. Cleaning away the old and outmoded both literally and metaphorically, and tying up loose ends, as in my Clean Start Soap Spell, making space. And then with clear intent, concentrating on what I need to draw into my life at this point in time, this new start. Somewhere in between these two I shall also be counting the many blessings that have come my way in the last twelve months, going through my Jar of Blessings and giving thanks for all those moments of joy and serendipity. I think it's important to keep a sense of balance about the good and the bad. Take an unflinching look at the bad so that you can do something about it - but acknowledge and give thanks for the good stuff too!

Of course the end of the year is just one end point of many. I could just as easily choose to do this kind of magic on my birthday, or at Imbolc, or Samhain or even monthly, at every moon cycle. Yet for me the end of year works very well - perhaps because the group mind is focussed on the end/beginning motif at this time, or perhaps the Yule/Christmas/New Year festivities give a bit of breathing space away from the normal routine of things and allow me time to mull over what needs to be mulled!

As I mentioned in an earlier post, this year seems to have been all about endings, or at least coming to terms with all kinds of different issues. Looking back, things this year have brought me face to face with issues encompassing all areas of my life - home/environment (new bathroom, new porch, decorating), health (torn ligament in my shoulder), family, friends and loved ones (wedding, birthday party and the ensuing fall out from that), and my spiritual community (Dragonrise Witchcamp).

Whilst trying to make sense of all this, I found out that it has coincided with my Chiron Return, which happens for us all around the age of fifty, when the mini-planet Chiron (named for the Greek God of Healing) returns to its original position in our birthchart and forces us to take stock and address those areas of our lives which need healing. This may sound a bit crazy, but having experienced a similar - and far more emotionally jarring - period of upheaval and chaos during my Saturn return in my late 20's it makes sense to me!

Interestingly when writing about all this in my journal I found myself exactly halfway through the notebook. More symbolism, more synchronicity. I am paying attention Mutiverse! I am really trying to get it and do the work I need to do.

This morning what occurred to me is that there is no real closure - or at least, finding some kind of closure doesn't magically wrap everything up neatly and put it away once and for all. It's more about coming to peace with what you need to, reconciling  yourself with what is, instead of what you would like it to be. All of these issues and experiences and difficulties have contributed to where and how and who I am today. They don't ever actually resolve themselves and disappear into a cloud of sparkly pink smoke and 'poof!' everything is magically sunshine and roses. No, reaching closure is about accepting and integrating those experiences and their lessons. They stay with you, as they should. They are a valuable part of you, and you are now at peace with them.

Perhaps this year has been as much about Healing as Closure. Which ever is the correct word - and perhaps they both are - I am grateful for the experience, and grateful that even though it has been challenging at times, it has undoubtedly also been positive. I feel like the whole year has been a cleansing, and now I am ready to move on to counting my blessings and planning what will come next. Thank you Chiron. Thank you Multiverse.

Happy New Year.

Bruce Springsteen

I first discovered Bruce Springsteen in my teens nearly (gulp!) 30 years ago. I saw a clip of him playing 'Rosalita' live on TV, and I was hooked. The energy and enthusiasm of his performance, the swirling music, the quixotic lyrics, the tightness of the band, his dynamism... magical!

I bought all his albums, and whenever a new one was due for release I would count down the days and be there at the record shop to snap it up. And I tried to get tickets to see him live - how I tried! But every time they would all sell out before I could get one.

I continued to love Bruce over the years, and continued to try and get tickets to see him live. I'm not a great concert-goer to be honest. Over the years I've seen some big names perform - Yes, Jethro Tull, Madonna, Peter Gabriel, Bjork - but most of those it has to be admitted were because I was tagging along with someone else who wanted to see them. But ever since seeing that clip of Rosalita, I really, really wanted to see Bruce Springsteen live.

Well, last night I finally made it! T and I went to see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band live in Cardiff... and it was magical. Every bit as wonderful as I'd been hoping all those years. Bruce and the E Street Band may have an extra thirty years weighing on them, but it doesn't show. They're as tight and energetic as ever, and still played a magnificent 3 hour show without a break.

And guess what they played as the last song?* Yes, 'Rosalita'. For all I know Bruce and the band may finish every set with 'Rosalita', but I felt like he was playing it for me. I travelled home with a grin ear to ear, and I'm still smiling now, though this morning my shoulders ache from clapping and arm-waving, and my voice is hoarse from singing along.

Thanks Bruce - you're the Boss!

P.S. Here's a short clip of the original live version of Rosalita I saw all those years ago - for the full length version, go to: http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=zEema3T8wCI



* Actually, after I Googled 'Bruce Springsteen Cardiff' and found some other acounts of the evening, it turns out 'Rosalita' was not the last, but the penultimate song. I hadn't realised, because we had to leave at that point in order to catch the last train back to Carmarthen. I guess years ago I'd have been happy to miss the last train and kick my heels in the station overnight for just one more song - is our decision to leave when we did a sign of the wisdom or the feebleness bestowed by age? Either way, I'm still glad I got to hear 'Rosalita' when I did. It seems even more special, somehow. Bruce moves in mysterious ways!!!

Autumn Waits in the Wings

This morning there is a tinge of autumn in the air. Although the last week or so has been perfect summer weather, early in the morning autumn is waiting in the wings.

Some scent in the air, or chill in the breeze, or heaviness in the dew seems to whisper of autumn. The birdsong has a mournful edge. The summer flowers have peaked and are in decline. Blackberries bejewel the hedgerow.

No wonder poets write of the fleeting nature of summer. She comes with such promise, but never stays as long as we hope.

As a witch I love the cyclical wheel of nature, relishing each season in turn. And yet I find myself wanting to hold on to each one too. The crisp clarity of winter, the freshness and promise of spring, the easy bounty of summer and the melancholy woodsmoke-scented autumn. Perhaps this wanting to cling to every last moment is age-related. It is true that time speeds up as the years pass. This world is so beautiful, who wouldn't want to savour every minute?

More Than Halfway Part 2

Thank you to everyone who commented on my last post with your wise and often flattering remarks!

It's strange to be mulling over thoughts of ageing and mortality when everything in the world around me is bursting with new life and growth. This continues to be an unusually warm and sunny spring (the news tonight is saying it's the warmest April in 300 years). The martens have arrived as predicted a few days after the swallows and the air is filled with their joyful cries. The trees are covered in brilliantly green, tender new leaves; the hedgerows are crowded with foamy Queen Anne's lace, starry ramsons, delicate stitchwort, and bright splashes of red campion, bluebells, primroses and dandelions.

But isn't this one of the messages of Paganism? The wonderful, mysterious wheel of life that goes cycling on, no matter what.

I have decided I will make a good old lady (I'm aiming for a cross between Maude from the film 'Harold & Maude' and the old lady with the goats in 'Cold Mountain' - with perhaps a touch of Miss Marple primness for good measure). I'm not sure I share the current enthusiasm for 'growing old disgracefully' - that seems to infer trying to kid everyone you're still a spring chicken when you're actually an old crow - dressing too young, trying to be trendy when you clearly have no clue and attempting to convince yourself you're immortal by taking up ridiculous pastimes like 'extreme' sports. Growing old gracefully actually sounds like a much better option to me.

In the meantime I'll enjoy the gifts that the passage of time has brought me so far - increased self confidence, trust in my own intuition, and a healthy disregard for whether my bum looks big or not. Actually, that last bit's not quite true - I know it looks big, I just don't care very much any more. And I'll be grateful that halfway through or not, I still have a strong, healthy body, an inquiring mind and wonderful friends and family to share the big adventure of this life with. Hey, more gratitude! Just proves the point of my earlier post - once you stop trying to force it, it just bubbles up on it's own!

More Than Halfway

I see my folks are getting old,
And I watch their bodies change.
I know they see the same in me
And it makes us both feel strange;
No matter how you tell yourself
It's what we all go through -
Those lines get pretty hard to take
When they're staring back at you.

- 'In the Nick of Time' by Bonnie Raitt

I've been thinking about my age recently. It all started I suppose at the local Pagan Moot (a monthly social meeting) where the youngest member (17) enquired about my age. When I told him he expressed surprise that I'm younger than his mum. He wasn't intending to be rude, but the implication was that I'm looking a bit rough round the edges!

Then last week I went to the station to pick up my 19 year old Goddess-daughter, Rachel, who was returning to the local University after the Easter break. Catching sight of the two of us reflected in a window made me realise how old and mumsy I actually look. To be honest most of the time my inner self feels like a 12 year old faking it through the adult world. Sadly the outer reality is increasingly at odds with this! My former size 10 figure has expanded to a 16, my hair has white streaks, my wrinkles are digging in for the long haul and - horrors! - I am beginning to detect saggy skin under my eyes!!! It can only be a matter of time before the jowls develop and it is clearly all down hill from there.

My brother had his 40th birthday in February and my Dad recently celebrated his 70th. Time is moving inexorably on, though it doesn't seem possible to me that any of us can be this old. Am I in denial? The funny thing is that until now ageing has never particularly worried me - when all my friends were moaning about turning 40 (and before that 30) I just wondered what all the fuss was about. I've never been tempted to lie about my age, dye my hair or resort to more serious measures like plastic surgery. I hope I never will, although I have to admit I've been seriously considering henna as an option lately!

I'm 43, making me very likely more than halfway through my life. Is this all just anxiety about mortality? Or mere vanity? I'm not sure. Probably a bit of both.

What I am sure about is that (to quote Bonnie Raitt again) 'Life gets mighty precious/When there's less of it to waste'. Intimations of your own mortality are a great incentive to take stock, concentrate on what's really important and get your act together! As a disorganised procrastinator extraordinaire I should probably start making to do lists and planning straightaway.

Or is this how all the best midlife crises start? Somebody please tell me to get a grip if you catch me talking liposuction, trying to dress like Kate Moss or selling off the ancient Ford Escort for a Harley Davidson.