01:07 pm - death and renewal
Well, it's officially post-Lammas. I guess that means I survived another Summer replete with 6 (count em, six) eclipses in my sign or opposing my sign in the past 12 months, a grand t-square something or other with planets fighting one another through the whole month of July . . . . Two household moves in as many months . . . .ug. It's looking as though it might be good to be back pretty soon.
Been a long, long, long time since I've posted anything here that isn't related to online workshops and intensives. That should tell you what kind of time I've been having. I pretty much do stick to the tenet that if I don't have anything good to say that I don't say much at all. I also often feel conflicted about writing here, in such a public forum, when things aren't going perfectly well. I mean, what kind of teacher must I be if my life isn't perfect? I know, right? Human. I'm just another human. More so, I like the phrase, "I'm just another bozo on the bus." Sometimes I get off at the wrong stop and wander around for a while, exploring dangerous neighborhoods or browsing in shops where I cannot afford the price . . . .
Life has been a roller coaster. Trying to get it all down here would take more time and energy than it's worth. I'm still sorting out the peices, like a jigsaw puzzle tossed out of the box onto the living room floor, I find myself just standing still with a look of focused consternation. Where are the edges now? Where is the center? Breathing slow and deep, I find the borders and slip them into place. A clean house, with gorgeous light and space . . . so clean and fresh I can breathe here again. Bending closer, I discern the center peices. Some fit together here . . . and here . . . and here. The rest are a jumble. Exhausted from this little effort, I retreat. Take a bath or a nap, cook a meal, look at the ungodly list of things it would take an army to complete . . .
Yesterday, I learned that a close friend of mine from 20 years ago passed away. I knew her from the 12 step program. She was my best friend then. She was the Maid of Honor at my first wedding. We shared secrets and laughter and tears together during those early years of our recovery. Two wild young women without a clue how to live in the world--showing up at meetings night after night after night after night for years . . . working the Steps, speaking and chairing meetings, taking on responsibilities, joining committees, organizing events (that's where I learned to speak in public as well as organize people and events. If ya think organizing pagans is hard, try herding newly recovering addicts!)
What? What? D? D passed away?
I was flooded with emotion. It was as though someone kicked me in the chest and knocked the wind right out of me.
I don’t know if she killed herself or died of an overdose or if she was killed on the streets or in an accident or died of a disease or took her own life. I just know she is gone. And knowing, I see her face, that beautiful smile. Feel her conflicted energies swirling. I hear her laughter. Learning of her passing, I am grateful that my things are not yet unpacked from this latest household move because right now I know where the photos of her at my wedding are and she belongs on the altar with the beloved ones who’ve gone to the other side.
D. remember being in the limosine on the way to my wedding? Remember how we had to behave because my Mom was riding with us? Remember taking off to the beach on a moments notice? Remember the New Year's Eve bash we threw?