Peacock Dreams

Encounters with Pagans, Encounters with Self

After being almost overwhelmed at the end of the first day, unable to believe that it had been just one day, there are now only two days left of the Parliament of the World’s Religions.

I’m drinking tea and listening to the birds at 6:30 in the morning. I awakened at 6 in order to be able to do my meditation and energy work practices, drink some tea, stretch, and get ready for an 8am Shinto observance. Awakening at 6 has been a bit startling some mornings, because from that point on the days are non-stop. But making the time for my practices has been one thing that has helped me immensely. Without them, I do not think my experiences would be so valuable, or my days so filled with interest and relative ease. Outside the windows are the sounds of birdsong, street cleaning, rainfall and early morning cars in the CBD (central business district).

My writings thus far have been filled with encounters of people of different faiths. These continue, with many people still approaching me about that first morning’s dance session and to talk about other things. I’ve spoken with the Lutheran minister from India more than once and remember that Independent Celtic Catholic priest from the first night? Turns out he is a whip-smart scholar, and queer. We have plans to get together once back in the Bay Area, and he’ll send out an article on textual analysis, which I look forward to. And next to me in the apostasy and homosexuality talk sat two friendly people in Salvation Army uniforms, one with a goatee and the other with a tattoo peeking from beneath her suit sleeve.

Today, I also want to write about my encounters with other Pagans. It has felt very good to get a little time with River Higginbotham, with David Garland and Gavin Andrew from the Pagan Awareness Network of Australia (whom I want to get on a podcast). I’ve met Donald and Ed from the Corellian Tradition, and Angie Buchanan, reconnected a bit with Phyllis Curott and Michelle Mueller, got to hear Grove Harris, whom I haven’t seen in over a year, speak on the Pagans and Religious Freedom panel along with Patrick… and then last night had a wonderful dinner with scholar Michael York and his partner. Turns out he and I are very simpatico. I feel as though I’ve made a valuable connection there, and a possible new friend.

In talking with the Pagans, particularly yesterday, I am shown the ways in which my Promethean tendencies have been present at this conference. While appreciative of the interchanges, ideas, and the effort that has gone into this conference, I was also aware of the amount of “Pagan 101” going on, and the relative isolation of Pagans in the broader mix of world ideas. During a radio interview with Donald Lewis and at dinner last night with Michael, I was reminded that sometimes we cannot push too far, too fast. I talked a bit of theology on the radio show and this came up. Then Michael put this Parliament in the context of the previous ones, and this came up. So, while I do not retract my wishes from yesterday’s post - to have a clearer space at the table of world ideas, and to not fight for scraps amongst ourselves which keeps us always beggars at the feast (as Donald said so eloquently yesterday) - I also have a deeper appreciation that there is still simply a huge amount of education to be done in places like these by people like ourselves. We are developing greater inter-religious understanding. Slowly. We are developing the ways to think more clearly theologically. Slowly.

This slowness is also part of my practice. It helps strengthen and stretch me, because my tendency – which is a valuable one, even if sometimes impractical – is to always rush ahead, saying, “See, we are standing on square two, but from here you can see square five! Let’s go!!!!” That push is part of why I do the work I do. It is why, when briefly speaking of prisons vs schools at the Global Financial Crisis round table yesterday, I made certain to introduce myself as a Pagan Minister. It is why I spoke against puerile theology on yesterdays’ radio-cast. It is why I am here. But I can hold the tension of my Promethean rush in tandem with this need to honor the slow unfolding of things in time. And so I learned something about myself, and about ourselves, here at the Parliament. For that I feel thankful.

I’ll continue to practice carrying these disparate energies, these Divine Twins, as I move through today.

Out of the cornucopia of today’s many offerings, plans are to attend:
Shinto Prayer Observance
The Zoroastrian Ethos of Compassion
Then I have to choose amongst Hindu Spiritual Leaders, Aboriginal Women or Understanding Voudon.
Next is:
Ainu Indigenous Spirituality of Japan
And then either the music of Hildegard of Bingen, a Hindu Interfaith Meeting, perhaps more gym time, or even a nap.

Signing off with blessings.

There is a lot of commentary flying about the internet, and here locally in Australia, on the topic of "why these Pagans?" My first blog post addressed this, but I will briefly speak to it again. If you are not on the scale of someone like the Dalai Lama, you are not "invited" to the Parliament. Everyone else submits program proposals that are either accepted or refused. Out of 1500 submissions, 600 were chosen. Those of us who are here are present because we felt called to be. We either saved money or raised funds to travel here in order to speak, to listen, to learn, and to expand our web of contacts. For me, the Parliament has already been a success, mostly from point of making connections. I traveled here with a Hermetic Magician and a Heathen – as far as I know, the only two of their kind at the Parliament – and we are all having an interesting time. We have helped out with Wiccan rituals despite not being Wiccan. I have taught. We have spoken and listened, a lot, and the conference is only half-way through.

The Parliament is not without its frustrations, of course. The pace can be grueling and the sheer scale of the thing must make programming a Herculean task. However, I have noticed that most of the Pagans are ghettoized rather than on inter-faith panels. My own proposed interfaith panel , "The Sacred Among Us: the Work of Social Justice as Prayer and Meditation" was rejected. Being a newcomer to the Parliament, I did not think much of it until I saw the final program and saw that there were no Pagans on environmental panels, for example, and only a few Pagans (some under the guise of Unitarian Universalists) on panels regarding Democracy or women’s history, neither of whom were speaking as Pagans on these topics, rather, they were speaking from research. This is a good thing, but I have a wish for Pagans speaking visibly as Pagans . Other than Phyllis Curott on the “Divine Feminine” panel, there was none of this. My wish is that by the time the next Parliament rolls around, this will have changed and we will have a place at the larger table. Meanwhile, I want to acknowledge again the perils and pitfalls of trying to organize a behemoth such as this, and am thankful for all the work that has gone into the orchestration of the event.


Here is a brief update for today:

Yesterday, in lieu of the Parliament, I taught an Iron Pentacle workshop organized by Australian Reclaiming. A hardworking crew, they were fully present for the work. I really appreciated what they brought to the lessons at hand. Last night was the Sacred Music and Dance concert back in the Plenary Hall, which was gorgeous, but we cut out early because of sheer weariness.

This morning, I skipped the Parliamentary spiritual observances to pray in the man-cave of a gym down the street from the Solar Cross flat. This body prayer, plus meditation, did me a world of good. I have noted already this week that Pagan gatherings do not schedule programming for eight am, and with good reason.

While rushing to the conference center, I was greeted by the “Jesus is the Only Way to God” people and gave them a smile and a “Blessed be”.

Unfortunately, I could not find the panel on Sikh principles and beliefs, which appeared to have been moved, so instead went to listen to the revered firebrand Hans Küng outline a "New Ethical Manifesto for the Global Economy". I recommend you click that link.

My choices for later today are:
“Reflections on the Global Financial Crisis”
“Interpreting the Text: Apostasy and Homosexuality”
“Pagans and Religious Freedom”

Meanwhile, I'm taking a tea break and listening to Hindi chanting. The Gyuto monks are making a sand mandala around the corner and the usual activity of Sikhs, Hindus, Buddhists and Jews interacting in the halls is causing a swirl of color and flow. A Christian deep ecologist just stopped to thank me for my sacred dance session and ask where I got my drum Just another morning at the Parliament of the World Religions.


Blessed be.

Hope at the Parliament of the World Religions

Seeing hundreds of people – including an Eastern Orthodox Patriarch, Pagans, Jews, Muslims, Buddhist nuns, Christian clergy – leap to their feet to give feminist theologian Sr. Joan Chittister a standing ovation, gives me hope for our world. (and Sr. Joan, by the way, rocks hard and long).

Hearing Anwar Ibrahim and Pal Aluwalia – prominent Muslim and Sikh thinkers – state unequivocally and clearly that any inferior or unequal position of women was strictly cultural and not part of their religions, gives me hope for our world. (I have heard this stated by feminist Muslim thinkers, but hearing it from these two respected men was heartening confirmation).

Seeing Native American Rights lawyer Steven T. Newcomb harshly challenging Catholic Bishop Peter Elliott in the question period of a panel and then seeing the two engaged in conversation when all was said and done, gives me hope for our world.

Parliament Day Three, Impressions so far:

Warm welcome from the Melbourne Pagans.

Two Buddhist nuns in gray robes and little brown wool caps sitting in the sun near the Yarra river, eating ice cream and smiling.

A Sikh turning to me at the end of the excellent panel on Democracy and religion and saying, “I do not think they will be able to answer these questions.” I laughed in reply.

Dancing and stomping at the Pagan communities night. Singing by Wendy Rule.

Morning sun glinting off a red bowl filled with eucalyptus leaves as, hands upraised to sky, we sent our prayers upward.

Getting three distinct invitations to come to India to visit and to teach sacred dance: from a Christian, a Sikh, and a Hindu.

When the Lutheran minister from India asked again what my religion was and I said “Pagan” he got a funny look on his face. I said, “Would I need to call it something else?” He replied, “No. You redefine it for us when you come.” The Sikh, when commenting on my name while holding my hand in his, said, “Thorns are very important for protection.”

Selling all my books and DVDs and people wanting more.

Talking with Rev. Michael Beckwith.

Meeting a priest from an Independent Celtic Catholic Church from Fairfax, California.

Protesters outside holding a sign that reads: “Do not trust religions. Jesus is the only true way to God.”

A man who stands outside all day, every day, in a gas mask and long robe, with signs to bring our attention to climate devastation and the use of fossil fuels.

Talking with an Anglican priest about bringing my friend from the Nevada Desert Experience to speak at their interfaith group.

Saami in embroidered clothing. Orange robes. Grey robes. Business suits. Saris. Brown robes. Golden robes. Celtic patterns. Jeans. Turbans. Hijab. Bare heads. Skin of many hues and hair of many textures. Many, many smiles.

This morning, I finagled a way out of the small conference room and onto an outdoor courtyard so we could practice “Dancing the Seven Sacred Directions” in the fresh, slightly chilly Melbourne air.

This turned out to be a good move as 76 people of a variety of faiths ended up joining in, which was far too large a number for the stuffy room. It was a joy to reach our arms to the vault of blue, and to open to each other as we danced the qualities of air, fire, water, earth and spirit. Jews, Christians, New Thought practitioners, Pagans and Hindus all danced together, happily, culminating in a joyous spiral dance. A Lutheran minister from India was so excited, he asked if we would be doing this every morning, and when I told him no, proffered his card, saying I must come to visit India. I was asked several times throughout the day if we would be dancing again. Perhaps next Parliament.

I skipped the Paganism panel because the room was already packed and I thought it might be best to visit some other faiths. The Sikhs were not set up yet, so I wandered into a New Thought presentation. I have many thoughts about the New Thought movement and contemporary Paganism – including some important theological parallels and frustrations in critical thinking or lack thereof – but they will have to wait until I have a larger swathe of time at my disposal. For now, it is off to a discussion of “Democracy and Diversity in Global Perspective” which includes a wide array of speakers: Anwar Ibrahim, Pal Aluwalia, Bishop Peter Elliott, Dr. M. Din Syamsuddin, Rabbi David Saperstein and Professor Barbara McGraw. Then I’m helping out with a ritual for peace organized by Angie Buchanan, Deirdre Arthen and Andras Corben-Arthen.

Tonight, the local Pagan community, spearheaded by Reclaiming, is hosting our Community Night. It should be a fun time.

Blessed Be.

I have come to this city bordered by ocean and bisected by the Yarra River near which Sufi Sheikhs, people wearing stoles dyed with esoteric symbols, and the likes of Rev. Michael Beckwith, Rev. Patrick McCollum and Professor Barbara McGraw stroll and stop for lunch. While in Sydney, my host Tim Hartridge- who went to trial for the right to use his psychic skills - inquired as to why we had flown so far to attend this gathering.

Here is a preliminary answer: I am hoping for some magic.

I have come to Melbourne, and we representatives of Solar Cross have come here, because religious pluralism is important. This parliament is a gathering, I hope, in which people of different religious beliefs will share ideas and meals with one another. This gathering, I hope, is one in which mutual respect can be fostered even in the midst of basic disagreements. There is work to be done here. There are conversations to be had. There are things to be learned.

This parliament is not a place where appointed representatives make decisions, rather, it is a parliament in an earlier sense of the word - coming from the root to speak – as a place of discussion. It is a gathering where ideas shall be exchanged and hopefully, alliances formed to help with the problems of poverty, environmental devastation and other forms of imbalance. Religious leaders must be part of these conversations and as Pagans, we have a lot to offer these conversations. As people who interact with the immanent Divine, we sense that the sacred is with us in all things and therefore the ways of social justice are important, right relationship to the land and water are important, that God Herself is with us, here and now. I hope we can bring this sense to each conversation we have during the next several days. It is this sense of divinity that I bring to the soup kitchen each week, that friends in Tasmania bring to their defense of ancient forests, that others bring to defending the religious rights of prisoners and still others to rewriting the scripts of war into those of deeper justice.

Many Pagans are not attending the Parliament of World Religions. For some it is a simple matter of economics – this is quite an expensive trip for which we have cut many corners. For others, however, there is suspicion about inter-religious dialogue. For still others there is a wondering about who chose these Pagans to represent our voices? What rights do those of us who are attending have to speak for any Pagans other than ourselves? We have no rights, except that we felt the calling to travel, some of us, half-way around the world to be here. We speak from our experiences with the land, with our Gods, with God Herself, with our practices and with our communities. We cannot speak for all Pagans, any more than the Hasids on the airplane out here speak for all Jews. I’ve already encountered some evidence of "Pagan Politics" regarding this trip and you know what? I will do my best to ignore that because it just is not important. What is important is that those of us who could be, are here.

Magic cannot happen if we don’t show up, if we don’t practice presence, if we are not open to the flow of the moment. It is my hope that as we walk the halls of the convention center and stroll the banks of the Yarra, that we talk, and more importantly, that we listen. May the river remind us of the flow of spirit. May we remain in a state of presence, and open to a place of love.


[Click here for my previous post on the Parliament.]

Be the pathless path. Sing the endless song. Bring all into the flow and the flow reveals each corner of the universe and every fold of heart and mind. What still frightens you?

Love.

When we open to love in all things, tension releases allowing strength and ease a clear course and flow within and around our lives. Our lives become the flow of all. We can take this anywhere, to every situation. That is the source of our magic, the source of every changing, all revealing, ever reveling.

Power.

When we walk the path of power, love increases. The pathless path becomes a dance, light on feet that once were heavy with our worry. The magic opens the inner gates, and the inner gates open all other gates in time.

Decide what it is you want, and learn to open.

LVX Amor

Today I'm thinking of what it means to be grateful in the midst of adversity. Many people I know are having a very difficult time right now, some facing challenges that shake them to the core, and others dealing with the slow, daily plod of showing up even when each day feels slightly more taxing than the last.

I think of all the things we have to be grateful for, even those things bought at very high cost. I think of the origins of the upcoming holiday and the taint that marks it - the oppression, the thievery, the murder - and still, I appreciate that there is a holiday just about gratitude, that is reminiscent of harvest festivals that happen all over the world.

The dark night of the soul is a teacher. There can be joy in the midst of great sorrowing. There can be gratitude under adversity. There can be a new life growing from the shards of the old. There is ever work to be done, but there also needs to be time set aside for rest.

Today, I send out thanks for all of my life's blessings, and for everyone who is making an effort, who is showing up, who is sitting at the bedside of a sick beloved, who is struggling with work or lack of work, with their children, with heartache, with alienation, and with growth.

Take heart. Breathe deeply of the air of this day. Give thanks for what you can. Your life is worth it.

Love and respect. Many different thoughts about these are swirling as I drink my morning tea, wondering if another round of rain is on the way.

So many people around me lately - in classes, spiritual direction, or online contacts - are struggling on some level or another with self-love and self-respect. This is two-fold. First is the stuff I write about often: are we not part of a larger fabric of being? Are we not all necessary components of the cosmosphere? Are we not unique expressions of life itself, finding our own way? If the answers to these questions are "yes" then are not self-respect and self-love important components of our practice? I sometimes say that my definition of "professionalism" is: "Respect yourself, respect the other person, respect the work." If we don't start with some amount self-respect, what is the basis for the other two forms? We need to learn and enact all three. If I don't respect myself, why should I expect you to respect the work we do together? How do we grow?

The second part of the struggle comes via the lenses through which we see ourselves: the distortions, the wish for reassurance that we do exist. We do matter. It is alright to need some outside reflection, but sometimes I'm struck at the depth of our blindness to ourselves, at the ways our vision limits our experience, at the lack of self-knowledge, self-love, and self-respect that can live from this narrow place - this mitzrayim or land of boundary, constriction and bondage as it is known in Judaism - and end up circumscribing not only our identities but our lives.

One example that struck me last week came during my training session, which is the place I'm actively studying self, soul, body, and personality right now. My intrepid trainer demonstrated what she wanted me to do, using a weight that looked entirely too heavy for me. I laughed out loud, shook my head, and went to pick it up. It was not a problem. Literally. I'm not saying it was easy after several reps, but a shock went through my body as I realized the weight was exactly right for me. It wasn't even a stretch, yet I had just assumed I would not be able to lift it. I wrote to her later: "...Makes me wonder what other limiting ideas I have about myself and my body."

We live in the mitzrayim and we do not have to. Once we reach adulthood, no person or circumstance keeps us in the narrow place without our permission. The narrow place can be helpful during times of incubation: we may wish a bit of extra constriction in order to figure out where the new boundaries are, push against them, and learn how to stretch. But we cannot stay there forever. Sooner or later we have to move to bigger pastures, to well-watered fields and wider vistas - or heavier weights - in order to get a fresh perspective. Staying in the narrow place constricts not only our vision of self, but our vision of the world and our vision of possibility.

We can become vast, gorgeous, and strong. We can live fully and brightly. When we let ourselves out of the boxes of our thoughts, we can more clearly see what we can do and not only who we can become, but who we are.

What would life be like if our only boundary became the boundary of love?

L'chaim

Transgender Day of Remembrance.

Recalling those who died because of any combination of hatred, ignorance, stupidity, homophobia, sexism or fear.

Transgender Day of Remembrance.

Recalling those who were killed far from their friends, at the hands of violence.

There were 95 transgender related murders internationally last year, up from 47 the year before. Has hatred doubled? are the effects of ignorance and fear exponential? [edit: a source reports that this number is up to 162 reported murders.]

For those who's names we do not know, and those who's faces some of us recall.
For all of these, again, is the prayer first written by Tristissima in 2007 and added to by myself:
(hir words are in italics, my additions not)

Hermaphroditus, look at the names of the dead.
Ardhanarisvara, read the names of the dead.
Melek Ta'us, remember the names of the dead.
Eris, look at the names of the dead.
Antinous, read the names of the dead.
Hoor-paar-kraat, remember the names of the dead.
Tlazolteotl, look at the names of the dead.
Azathoth, look at the names of the dead.
Pomba-Gira, read the names of the dead.
Inanna, remember the names of the dead.
Baphomet, look at the names of the dead.
Avalokitesvara, read the names of the dead.
Faro, remember the names of the dead.
Ymir, look at the names of the dead.
Indra, read the names of the dead.
Ometeotl, remember the names of the dead.
Asushunamir, carry our tears.


What is remembered, lives.

Escalation inside does not help with escalation outside. If we need to hurry up, we usually need to slow down internally. If we must face what feels like external opposition, internal violence is of no help.

Think of a situation you've faced recently. What were the external conditions and what was your internal state? Were you remembering to center, or was there agitation you were acting from? Did you feel well grounded or as if you were spinning hard and fast?

The more centered, stable and energetically calm we are inside, the more efficient, effective, quick and powerful we can be on the outside. Internal spinning or ramping up is not the answer - it tends to waste energy and leave us less focused or attentive. If we sense we are ramped up (or its counterpart, caved in), we can try not to speak or act immediately. We can attempt to adjust internally first, then see what options arise. Usually, there are far more choices at hand than first appeared.

As with anything, the more we practice this, the easier it becomes. If you wish, let's try:

Breathe with me. Find your center and notice your feet, connected to the earth. Assess your inner state. How will you choose to speak or act today? What gives you a real sense of your power?

What happens when we don't feel strong? What happens when our identity is so wrapped up in what we do that we forget who we are becoming?

This happens to us all.

Last weekend, I did some energy work with a person who was walking on crutches, has been out of work for over a year, and was struggling. She was used to being strong, vital, to running everywhere and being the go-to person. She could not do that anymore and was starting to have trouble holding on after two surgeries and perhaps one more to come. Pain, coupled with a sense of defeat, were making it hard for her to stay in her body. This, of course, made the pain management worse. The more we run away from ourselves, the less life energy can flow in and support our lives and healing. The more we collapse upon our systems, the more we hurt and the more numbing we need. This is true of escaping pain in the body, the emotions, the mind, and the soul.

In my work with her, the message came through clearly that the lessons of her healing were not for her alone, they were her gift to the community. Everyone around her needs to partake of the hard lessons she is currently experiencing. In expanding out, in reaching her energy up and down, rather than choosing to cave in, in calling her soul back into her body, she will become the teaching. Her life is now the lesson, not in what she can or cannot do, but in how she is showing up for it. Her strength will bolster everyone around her. Her pain reflects our pain. We need those lessons. We need to look more deeply at what we run from, what causes us to collapse, what identities have become props for our avoidance of the deeper reality that We Are. Identity is not the I. Our Doing is generated by our Being.

We do not experience learning through avoidance. We do not learn by always feeling strong. We learn by dancing with every particle of life as it moves forward.

We are wrestling with angels. Sometimes they wear our own faces.



[here is a good post on this subject, by my Sister teacher Katrina Messenger.]

When we are open to the moment, we are open to the teaching. When we are in a place of gratitude, we are in a state of love.

Feeling love for the city of San Francisco and grateful for teaching today: for the lessons of the body; of presence; of other humans in their frailty and strength... I stood at the bus stop, reading The Gift of Danger by Mary Stein. A mildly lit-up man interrupted to compliment my hair. We struck up a conversation about New Orleans (where both he and my father were raised), race, class, work and finally, attention. Yes, we discussed the importance of attention, which I brought up upon hearing him speak of training and then re-training in the art of construction work. We talked about the many ways that attention helps us, from the basic and personal on out into global consciousness. Then we got onto the bus and went our separate ways.

The sidewalk oracle was telling me to pay attention, to remain in presence, to open to the teaching he had to offer. I could have brushed him off - resisting the encounter - as another early morning drinker not worth my time. Luckily, the music of teaching was strong enough in me today that we were able to have our exchange.

The students in my Daily Practice course are struggling with resistance. Resistance is the act of attempting to stop the flow of connection. Resistance is an attempt to block the energy of the moment. To counter resistance, we need, not more resistance, but a softness. An opening. Unarmored at the bus stop, there was softness in me along with the awareness of surroundings and the bag on my shoulder, and people coming and going. The awareness enabled me to feel safe and alert. The softness enabled me to receive the teaching offered by my fellow philosopher. Had I simply been armored up, I would have been simultaneously less safe, less aware and less open to the moment at hand.

Armor cuts us off and impedes movement. Centeredness is stronger and supports movement. Aikido black belt Mary Stein says this:

...the "no" of resistance is merely a subset of the truth and reality of the greater "yes" of movement. While we're alive, it's impossible not to move.

Can we choose movement instead of fighting against it? Can we breathe when tension enters, and attempt to give ourselves more space? Can we recognize the flow of teaching that is everywhere? Can we open out in gratitude?

Today is Armistice Day, honoring the end of fighting on the Western Front during the Great War. What is the battle we are fighting inside right now? Can we lay down our arms, just for a moment, and see what may happen then? We can pick them up again at any time, but for now, let that in us which resists shake hands with that in us which loves. Who knows what stories they might share?

I write a lot about God Hirself being Process and flow, of how perfection is not static, and how this includes our lives. We each have an opportunity to learn and change, with every breath we take. Below is an announcement from two dedicated priestesses who have gifted many of us with their time, energy, wisdom and service. For myself, I am grateful to have walked their land, had tea in their kitchen, taught in their halls, and done ritual in the sacred groves they tended.

I offer my blessings and thanks to them as their ministry changes, and look forward to what may come.

Blessings to you both, Cynthea and Patricia, and blessings on all the people who have tended Diana's Grove, and to all who have crossed the stream to enter the gates of magic.

---------

In 2010, Diana’s Grove Mystery School will be working with the story of Persephone. It is a story of cycles, and as we all know, part of the wisdom of cycles is that all things come to an end. While it is our intention that Mystery School will continue, Diana’s Grove Center, as you and we have known it, is coming to an end.

Cynthea Jones and Patricia Storm founded Diana’s Grove on January 17, 1994, and for 15 years their work of myth, story and transformation has grown and deepened on this land. The Grove has been a sanctuary where people could come to experience the world of nature free from the distractions of modern city life, a place to be in touch with the natural elements and to honor wind, fire, water, and earth. A community has grown here as well – a community of people striving to find ways to heal self, world, and relationships that includes the more than 41 people who have lived and worked here, over the years, the Mystery School community, well-known guests such as Starhawk, T.Thorn Coyle, Margo Adler, Ubaka Hill, Trebbe Johnson and Steven Forrest, and the many who have come for other events or simply to experience the magic and healing to be found here.

While blessed with these wonderful supporters who have given so generously of their time, energy, and money, Diana’s Grove Center has nevertheless been suffering under the current economic climate. It’s founders no longer have the energy and stamina required to support their dream, in it’s current form, in these challenging times. They have decided to make major changes before major changes are forced upon them, and will be selling Diana’s Grove. It is their intention, and the intention of the residential and Mystery School staff, to make this transition with as much positive energy and integrity as we can.

What will that look like? Some questions will have to wait for answers as this transition unfolds, but some things we do know. We plan to continue our programming here on the land through 2010. Cynthea and Patricia anticipate sale sometime during 2010 or 2011. If the sale happens in 2010, they will ask for a closing date in late November or early December so that we can complete all Mystery School and non-Mystery School events scheduled here next year.

Mystery School will continue and… next year will be the last in this form, on this magical land. If you’ve been waiting for the right time to join Mystery School, to visit again, visit for the first time, or to introduce friends and family to this land and our work, this could be that time. We will make every event in 2010 a special one. We are planning a grand “reunion” Fall Equinox event, September 17-19, that will be open to everyone. We hope to see many old friends and familiar faces there.

For 2011, we are looking at other locations where we can gather for weekends and week-long events. We will continue seeking out the natural world as our stage for Mystery School, and working with myth, story, and transformation. Cynthea and Patricia plan to stay in the Ozarks, and continue providing a more limited Dog Rescue service. They will travel to Mystery School events and be open to doing workshops in other locations as well.

Here are a few more questions we’ve anticipated:

What happens to the land investors?
Investors in the project will be refunded any monies invested less contributions made. We are unable to refund contributions, as they were reportable as tax-deductible funds. Those who have invested in the land project will be receiving additional information shortly.

How much will the Grove sell for?
That’s one question we also share. We will know more after appraisal by a local realtor. Originally we had 102 acres (more or less). We added 40 acres last year with the land funds. Since moving here we have added the Great Room to the main house, built 15 cabins that house 62 people, added a commercial kitchen, finished the barn to include a 2-room apartment, added 2 pavilions as well as 2 large and 2 small storage buildings, lovely outdoor showers, 6 outhouses, a kennel house, a 2nd sewage lagoon, a decorative pond, a hot tub, 4 decks, and many lovely outside areas. There is no way to put a price on the magic, energy, and memories that live here.

What will happen to the trees?
We have no intention to sell to a logger.

What will happen to the dogs?
We are working diligently to find placement for many of the dogs currently at the Grove. We expect to reduce numbers by not taking more large dogs or dogs requiring long-term care. We have a resource list of alternatives for people needing shelter services. About 50 dogs will move with Cynthea and I. If you would like more information, please contact us.

What can you do to help?
Continue to support us in our transition. Come as often as you can. Recommend our work and let people know this may be the last opportunity to experience a very special and unique place and people. Do magic for the future of the Diana’s Grove philosophy and land. If you or anyone you know is interested in continuing the work here, contact us. We would dearly love to see Diana’s Grove continue in the same or similar environmental/magical tradition.

Next year we will be working with the story of Persephone. It is a story of cycles, and a fitting end to this cycle of an impossible dream, made manifest for so many years. We plan to re-tell and live out this rich, ancient story through the year, in full and reverent awareness that a beloved form is ending, as well as in joyous celebration of our years together, on this land. We anticipate a year of profound, deep and healing work, intentional farewells, glad welcoming of new Mysteries, and laying the foundation for the continuation of this community, this philosophy, this dream that has touched the lives of so many.

Please join us.

Visitations (a poem in progress)

I

Awakened by a man
Full tall, with skin of night
Clad in the long white robes of evocation.
From his hands streamed light of stars
Into my soul.

The underground stream runs long and wide
watering the roots of ancestral trees.

Awakened by a woman
Roaming fierce with lion strength,
Within the midnight room therein to seed
My spine with unknown teachings
Not yet lost.

The serpent coils upon the tree and shakes
the leaves of worlds, count nine and ten.

Awakened by a voice
In the early light post dawn,
That simply spoke, "Wake up!" into my ear.
Channeling a start for all the lessons
Still to come.

What fruits are hanging ripely,
Readying Autumnal drop toward underground?

I remember.


II

What is be-coming and what beckons?
What does coil at root and branch?
Time is here, and of your essence.
Now arise!

There is an opening in sky
And one right there, beneath your feet.
Learn how to dance. Learn now to listen.
Learn to breathe.





[Speaking of ancestors, here is Hal Duncan's elegy for Matthew Shepard:
Sonnets for Orpheus]

Be intent on action, not on the fruits of action.
- Lord Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita

This is something I'm always attempting, and of course, I don't always "get it right"! Yeah, a little weak perfectionist humor this morning. Hope you bear with me anyway.

Last weekend was a case in point. A small group of us planned a ritual to do on a stone encircled hilltop under cold and moonlit sky. Intense inner work happened - we walked with the ancestors and were asked to touch our hero's hearts and to take up the task required - we gazed into the mortal reminders of bare skulls and black mirrors held by the Battle Goddess reflected internal spaces...

Because of logistical challenges with the space, a sense that I could have handled a ritual transition better, and likely myriad other factors, we never got to an ecstatic state, so I did not feel satisfied with my leadership. I've "done better" as a priest. What hubris!

You see, the next morning everyone was engaged in discussion that was a direct product of something that happened to all of us in that ritual, and four days later it is quite apparent from things happening in my life and the lives of my friends that what we experienced together is going to have some pretty deep consequences. We are battling. That ritual "worked". It was as it ought to have been. I was just attached to a certain part of the outcome. I didn't get dessert after a savory dinner. Yes, next time we might plan things differently, but this time, things just were, as they were. In the moment.

In our lives, what is, is. We show up for it. Practice doesn't have to feel good. The mind doesn't have to be a still pond instead of one filled with the quacking of hungry ducks. I don't have to do the medicine ball throw as beautifully as my trainer - my muscles tell me I did something yesterday! Relationships hit rough patches while we work things through again, yet we still love our partners. Ritual doesn't go as we expected. What is the result of all this showing up? Hopefully we gain enough presence to show up yet again to our lives, to our meditation cushions, to our bodies, to our friends, to our Gods... We become responsible adults, fully embodying our lives to the best of our abilities.

We can't know what that will look or feel like, but we can know that some effect will happen. It always does.

What we do, say, and think does matter. We are forming an unknown world and we are in-formed in turn. We just can't get too hung up on perceiving how or why. Things reveal themselves in time.

Perform actions, firm in discipline,
relinquishing attachment...

This week I asked my students:

"What in you needs to recommit to practice? What in you wishes to strengthen your commitment? What other parts of your life need refreshed energy?"

And in spiritual direction sessions and my own training, these questions have given rise to thinking about how it is so often easier to commit to the parts of ourselves that feel strong... but what does it take for us to commit to the parts of self that feel soft, vulnerable, or weak? They hold just as much - if not sometimes more - of our energy than the strong parts, yet so often we continue to leave them out in the cold, or we work around them and strengthen ourselves in ways that are ultimately out of balance, just as we do around any injury. We mutate, trying to get along, and sometimes end up weaker overall until one day, we run up hard against these limitations. What is our choice then? We can crumble completely, or we can begin to do this work, too.

Can we recommit to all of these parts? Can we embrace our softness in order to grow truly strong?

I'll keep trying if you will.

The night is long and the wind is cold,
we are lit by the fire of love.
The night is long and our hearts are bold,
the future is our making.
Goddess! We are open, to the task that is to come.
Goddess! We are willing, fill us with your power!


Saturday, The Morrigan wove in and among us all day long, asking for preparation and for sacrifices willingly made. That night, she came to us on the wings of crows and ravens. She came in the heat of battle, and the frenzy of desire. She rode on the spirits of those who were, to raise the cry for what is to come.

What inside us is willing to stand firm?

What in us is willing to train?

Inside us beats a hero's heart. Under what old messages is this buried? What in us fears the task that is at hand?

"Rise up, children. Rise up to your own calling. Rise up to prepare for what is to come."

What is to come?

No one does know, but the messages are on the wind: "Find something you believe in and stand firmly there. Train your body, mind, heart and spirit. Become as strong and supple as you can be. Help your friends and those around you. Do not let go of your own power. Find your weakness and embrace it. Work with the shadows in your heart. Above all, listen to the call, to the tugging at your core. What is strong in you? Support this with all your might and your ability."

Sunday morning, in the aftermath of ritual, we sat around discussing the ways in which we need to grow stronger. Old stories of muggings and assaults came up, again and again. I joked with a compatriot that along with organizing my class "Mysteries of the Body in Prayer" perhaps we should organize "Mysteries of the Body in Battle." Several people decided that this should not be a joke. We have agreed to help each other train, to grow insightful and aware, and to learn the ways of strength.

We can all help each other toward greatness, no matter what is to come. Are we willing? That willingness alone speaks of the courageous heart.

As Freya spoke to me three years ago: "The battle boar is ready. Do not stand down."


Let us rise to our full height instead.




[Wishing a blessed Dia de los Muertos for those who celebrate.]

The Man i' th' Moon's too slow—till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable; she that from whom
We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again
(And by that destiny) to perform an act
Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come,
In yours and my discharge. - Shakespeare's "The Tempest"

We think on the past this time of year. We build altars to the ancestors as our bones feel the coming chill and darkness. Candles flicker and nights grow short. We gather the sacred drink and food, prepare our offerings, and band together sharing warmth and companionship.

It is not only ancestral spirits we can look to during this time, but our own pasts. What is locked away in dusty trunks in our minds? What emotions have been buried? What old injuries of body, heart, or mind bring reminders - gross or subtle - through the aching in our chests or joints, or the tearing up of eyes?

This theme is coming up again and again with my spiritual direction clients these few weeks leading toward Samhain. Old pain is surfacing as the sun gives way to night. I ask if they can forgive themselves. I ask if they can believe they are deserving of love. They carry the stories of their ancestors, the actions of parents and grandparents passed on down the line. They carry their own stories, internalized by years of forgetfulness, guilt, or shame. These stories have substance during this time of year, when the veils are said to be thin. These stories grow legs and dance.

My own stories are here with me as I type. My trainer is asking me to look at the profound shift my life took after a motorcycle accident changed everything. The accident affected my body, of course, but also my livelihood, and most significantly, my emotional sense of power and well-being. I went from feeling at the top of my game - weightlifter, professional bellydancer - to walking with a cane. I was unable to work for a time and in excruciating pain from hip displacement for several years. This was pivotal. Literally. And it started me on a cycle toward chronic fatigue syndrome and a delimiting of my life. In feeling physically and emotionally weak, unable to get back to the propping up of my machismo, I curled in on myself for awhile. I made choices that enabled my spirit to feel safe. My life became an incubator for what was to come. This past became a prologue.

From this event, I had to learn new ways of being. I had to rebuild from the core out. My life was strengthened by these changes, eventually, but my heart still remembers how hard it was to feel so weak. That, I carry. And that helps me, every time I listen to a client in pain or grief. Something in me responds, because it knows that these lessons are difficult ones. But because they enable honesty, they are the lessons that can open us to deeper joy. They bring about self-knowledge.

Just as our lives are both built upon the gifts and mistakes of our ancestors, so are our lives built upon our own mythic stories. Are the stories "true"? What is underneath the myth? What is another layer? Revisiting these stories is a trap for some of us - we'd rather repeat the past than live in the present - but for others of us stories we have set aside as from some other time are fruitful fields for Autumnal gleaning. What seeds were planted there, what withered, what was plowed under and what grew in it's place? Everything in our process affects what is to come.

Listen to the stories brought by the wind and the calling of the crows. Listen to the stories told around the fire. Listen to the stories you have not wanted to hear. Listen to the stories you have longed for.

This is how we learn.

My trainer asks me:

iv) do you recall the quality of feeling weak in your body? what was the
exact body sensation and what did it bring up emotionally? what did machismo
entail, and what did you replace it with?

v) what is your perspective on invincibility and dignity?

The questions settle in me as I do my work and turn my sights toward greeting the spirits and dancing around a fire in a stone circle this weekend. These questions will continue to help me now, and to give a new lens to the time in my life when a car turned left and crushed my leg between its bumper and my motorcycle, flinging me to the ground, where I rocked and cried until the ambulance came. Where my housemate, walking by, came to bend over me in the middle of the intersection, to ask what he could do to help. That is the past, but it lives inside me still. My dignity was crushed, but something stronger has grown up from that time, though the parts that felt weakened, sometimes struggle still.

My harvest is good. I feel grateful. And this time of year also carries the bittersweet knowledge that what had to be plowed under for the current crop to thrive was a bright and gorgeous thing...

Its taste remains.

Thought of the day:
Surrender to the teaching, not the teacher. The teacher should be a trustworthy guide.