Winter is coming.
My blood is thin and my bones are cold in the evenings. My animals no longer stretch out on the cool tile to sleep. Instead, they curl their tails around themselves, and tuck their noses into warm blankets.
The coats on their backs are changing also; every cat and hound has become fluffy.
But I have no fur, so I sit in my chair covered in the red Christmas blankets I pulled out of the chifferobe this week.
My blood is thin and my bones are cold in the evenings. My animals no longer stretch out on the cool tile to sleep. Instead, they curl their tails around themselves, and tuck their noses into warm blankets.
The coats on their backs are changing also; every cat and hound has become fluffy.
But I have no fur, so I sit in my chair covered in the red Christmas blankets I pulled out of the chifferobe this week.
I often use the winter when I need to move through some of the smaller changes in life, allowing the Wheel of the Year to pull me down into the dark, where I can do my deep work. It pulls me out again in the spring, armed with a clearer plan for the year, resolutions made, and to-do lists quantified and prioritized.
But the last three years, I haven’t done a winter hibernation.
But the last three years, I haven’t done a winter hibernation.
The fires of change roared through my life in 2015, burning many of my hopes and dreams in its path.
Like the wildfires now raging in California, I didn’t see the fire coming. There was no chance to sort through life, decide what was most important to keep, and let the rest go up in flames. Instead, the destruction was uncontrolled, and painfully destructive, as if the fire recognized those things in the forefront of my mind, the things I held most dear, and demolished them first.
I felt hopeless, and spent much of the next year in despair. Finally last year, I began to rebuild. Hopes. Future plans. Newer, stronger relationships, forged from the lessons learned.
Now I’m ready for another, albeit controlled, burn. This month, before I descend into my psyche for the winter’s deep work, I’m consciously shaping some fire imagery to use in some planned spellwork for change.
Like the wildfires now raging in California, I didn’t see the fire coming. There was no chance to sort through life, decide what was most important to keep, and let the rest go up in flames. Instead, the destruction was uncontrolled, and painfully destructive, as if the fire recognized those things in the forefront of my mind, the things I held most dear, and demolished them first.
I felt hopeless, and spent much of the next year in despair. Finally last year, I began to rebuild. Hopes. Future plans. Newer, stronger relationships, forged from the lessons learned.
Now I’m ready for another, albeit controlled, burn. This month, before I descend into my psyche for the winter’s deep work, I’m consciously shaping some fire imagery to use in some planned spellwork for change.
rst, the image of fire to create an alchemical reaction, burning off the last of the dross in the alchemist’s chalice, until I am clean, pure gold.
Some negative connections of negativity remain from that old life, and they need to be ashed and released to the winds. It’s taken me this long to be willing to let go, even while the holding on stabs me now and then. (Aren’t we strange creatures? We hold onto the things that hurt us, because we are afraid that being free of that pain may hurt even more.)
Some negative connections of negativity remain from that old life, and they need to be ashed and released to the winds. It’s taken me this long to be willing to let go, even while the holding on stabs me now and then. (Aren’t we strange creatures? We hold onto the things that hurt us, because we are afraid that being free of that pain may hurt even more.)
The second of my intentional images is the forge’s fire, seeing myself as a sword being forged by the Goddess through both fire (determination, will), and water (emotions, fear). She is honing my edges for a new usefulness, which she will reveal to me in her own time.
These are my Crone years, and I’m slowly learning to make the most of them. I know that if a person has resented his/her life--the burden of freedom, the chore of keeping body and soul together and pure-- then death will be just as unwelcome and resented. Our next life is predicated on the soundness of this one, and your undone work will be waiting for you at the crossroads, there’s no path around it. I figure letting go now of that which does not serve my highest good, is good practice for the time when, at the end of life, I must let it all go, and move on to my next lessons.
P.S. NaNo (National Novel Writing Month) is progressing slowly. Until today, I’ve been editing my existing chapters instead of forging ahead on new words. But those chapters are now clean-spanking polished. Tonight, I move ahead into new novel territory.
Goal=have rough draft completed by December 20. Cross your fingers, this baby is overdue!
These are my Crone years, and I’m slowly learning to make the most of them. I know that if a person has resented his/her life--the burden of freedom, the chore of keeping body and soul together and pure-- then death will be just as unwelcome and resented. Our next life is predicated on the soundness of this one, and your undone work will be waiting for you at the crossroads, there’s no path around it. I figure letting go now of that which does not serve my highest good, is good practice for the time when, at the end of life, I must let it all go, and move on to my next lessons.
P.S. NaNo (National Novel Writing Month) is progressing slowly. Until today, I’ve been editing my existing chapters instead of forging ahead on new words. But those chapters are now clean-spanking polished. Tonight, I move ahead into new novel territory.
Goal=have rough draft completed by December 20. Cross your fingers, this baby is overdue!
RSS Feed
