I’m watching the world right now, political warfare, mythical retaliation, and my brain trying to wrap my head around all of this.
The volcanoes erupting, particularly in Hawai’i due to corporate greed tapping into things that they refuse to admit even exist – Pele. It makes me think back to the tales in the Irish Book of Invasions, how various peoples immigrated to the land and how long they maintained sovereignty was determined by how well they took care of the land. Of course, that’s Ireland and the volcano in this case is home to a Goddess who would probably be more of a friend to the Morrigu. The more I read about what has been going on there the more I look to the land guardians who have been fighting the corporate takeover of the land. They have been offering their prayers to let Pele know that they are with her, even though their strength has been limited by governmental interference.
Watching them gives me hope. As it does in the States, where a rising tide of our First Nations is bringing more attention and gaining momentum to their charge to the land here. For us, it is a similar issue – power. Literal and figurative. What I see to be a further insult is the “environmental groups”, namely the outdoor companies that have a stated purpose in line with what the land guardians want but seem to want to ensure that they don’t partner together. To some, it’s called privilege, mainly of the white kind; I’d go a step further and say it’s mainly a “Westerner” privilege – of the Roman of old variety. This idea that humans are not caretakers of the land – charged with working in balance, but sovereign over the land to force the land to conform to us.
What I’m starting to think we’re seeing is us being put in our place, thanks to the more over-zealous segment of our population who follows that thought process. Mainly those who are under the ill-formed thought process that they control everything. But I do think we’re hitting a point where this will all be unveiled and the tales of old – Ragnarok, the Rapture, etc, are about to reveal what they meant.
I don’t view this as a bad thing, when taken into the bigger picture. Scary, sure. But in order to evolve, old structures have to be taken down – like in a forest. Trees have to fall, decompose and prepare the soil for what comes next. Fire has to clear out the under-brush so there’s room. Same goes for governments and society.
Things have been getting pretty hectic here since the beginning of the year. But in a good way. It’s been giving me time to reconnect with my roots, clear out the old junk that has been holding me back from jumping off the cliff, and make room for all the really awesome stuff that has been percolating in the background.
It’s been a good clearing, as I’m finding the ideas that I’ve been waiting for are finally starting to bubble to the surface. How I want the back yard to look, what I want the house to look like, what my office should be and finally….what my job will be! That part is the most exciting, because it finally allows me to bring every thing I do in life together into this one little bundle.
I’ve always known that I’m that person who will always be a step behind, but it’s never really bothered me that much because I’ve found that I always arrive when I need to do so. Guess that makes me a little wizard in the Tolkien vein. 😀
As things progress, I might talk about it more here, even though I do want to keep things a bit separate. Maybe I’ll hit a stride where I finally don’t care again and can fully open up. But it’s hard to explain how awesome it is, when that part that you thought was dead inside – buried in thick concrete and hidden for all time – to crackle back to life. To hear the muse that you had pushed aside, to become something that someone else wanted you to be, to forgive you enough and trust enough that she’d begin talking to you. And to finally hear the gods of old start to sing their songs with you. The awakening that we all search for, cry out for, and seek every single day.
But then begin to realize that it’s a process of a lot of small circumstances and details that add up.
I walked alone along a star lit path.
Frozen air kissing my face.
The lonely call of an owl echoing across the trees.
“Give in,” it says.
“There is nothing here for you.”
A rustle of the leaves.
The chittering of night squirrels.
“But there is…”
My eyes close.
Breath smoking away from my lips.
Snow begins to tickle my forehead.
Everything must die at some point.
This weekend was my first get away to the river for the year. It was somewhat of a struggle to make it happen, because people who fail to think their decisions through put a huge wrench in my schedule. My original summer schedule had me at my office in the morning specifically so I could go off-grid a little longer. But that has changed, and I will live with it. The run itself was good, very needed, but also very telling. One of the newer guides had a bit of issues due to someone being a bit over-bearing and guiding a crew that wasn’t 100% working with her. Sounded familiar to me.
But the sun came out just long enough to ensure that I got sunburned in the most awkward pattern. Stayed clear the entire trip, watched some careless activity somehow result in no injuries or death. And my GoPro stayed on for most of it. I still haven’t downloaded it to see what all I did get. But in all, there is still haze to my sight.
I lost another student this week. Brings me down to 5. I’m still trying to decide if I should cry or high five the decision maker on this. I was told, at the beginning of the year, to bring my numbers down. I chose to limit who I was taking on and let the numbers drop organically. Well, they’ve dropped. I know my students will be better for it, but I’m wondering if I will. I am continuing with open eyes, knowing the potential for next year. Trying to hang on and use this opportunity to learn and grow, before going back. But that train has been put back on to my own rails, behind my own engine car. I’m trying to flow with things, let the currents carry me, and do what I can to avoid the rocks. But that’s the beauty of the river; it can be the most peaceful thing on top, but filled with sharp rocks and foot traps underneath the water.
So my question to myself, should I go ahead and jump the dam, take the chance? Or play it long-term and save the grand finale for the end?
So, with my world in absolute chaos due to tricksters making evolution happen, it dawned on me that I’m having a creativity drought. It was thrown at me yesterday as one of my gymnasts let out a huge groan followed by a very loud “Oh MY god!!!” as I tried to wrangle her teammates into setting up our stations. Granted, my usual passion in what I do has been tempered by the adult realities of life and I find myself regressing back into a few points in my life where I felt my fires either being snuffed out or just quelled to smoke by a dump of cold water.
But in my time off, my creativity has been seriously stifled. I remember days where I could churn out poems, most of which made no sense, doodled new animals to life, or imagined symphonies that would make the masters weep. But here I am, grasping at what others have created, in hopes that it will kick my muse back to life. Be the lightening that rekindles the flames. But always, I come back to the person(s) that would rather let someone suffocate, just to see those lips turn black. Those who I ultimately don’t know whether I should pity or ignore. The killjoys.
She is right. And that’s what those people do, they make you question everything. Feel worthless in your talents. All so that you eventually wither away and die. The Echo to Narcissus.
Today I’ve been the social butterfly, meeting in the morning to decompress, get to know a new friend and mentor, and brainstorm the impending creation of my own coaching style and philosophy. Lots of words and thoughts throwing around in my brain. Emails sent trying to outline more and get support to make it all happen. Anxiety about the excitement and space it opens up for me to grow and learn as a person. Then finding the comfort of the full length sweater that I wanted to get months ago on clearance – in my size.
It’s amazing how simple that kind of comfort can be. Allowing me the space to gather some of my thoughts, articulate them and send more of them out. In putting together my application for summer camp, I find that I actually have to tell someone why they should pick me over people I don’t know and possibly have never met. I always hated these essays, not because they make me talk myself up, but because they make me try to convince others that I am more deserving and special than others who are writing them. I consider that a recipe for disaster, because it creates this expectation. Not that I can’t live up to one, but that I prefer to let my actions speak louder than my words. I’m human, I screw up occasionally (and sometimes more than that), and I waltz through other challenges like champion.
I still need to sit down and do my taxes. The city where my business resides has the most asinine rules for renewing licensure. It’s like the folks in charge failed to read the US Constitution to find that natural born citizens have to relinquish their citizenship. But again, I have to prove I’m a citizen. Despite everything being digitized, they can’t maintain records to know that I’ve already proven I am. Not only that, I need to find where I hid my login and password. Headaches. At least my actual taxes will be easier, just a matter of sitting down and organizing them.
Things, things, things.