I became an adult at age 6, when I first realized no one would dry my tears but me. What happened that day is a story I may tell another time, but my point here is that there is something very ancient and very tragic about the child who weeps without hope of comfort. In short, they are no longer a child, but an adult who carries the world’s weight on shoulders too small to sustain it. Continue Reading →
On the heels of Wednesday’s Carrie carnage, this morning I shuffled into the kitchen and a painting of Mother Mary (Mother Freaking Mary!) flew off the wall, shattering three wine glasses on its way down as well as a rooster-shaped candy dish that I love so much I actually wrote an essay about it. You know it’s serious when gentle, loving Mary, the very essence of the divine feminine, expresses wrath–via a rooster, no less. Am I being haunted by my higher self, Samhain style? Doth my unconscious runneth over? Is today’s new moon in Scorpio breaking everything down to enforce a bruja breakthrough? Whatever, man. I am aware that nothing is more throw-down than messing with a Capricorn’s things. So, universe: I accept your challenge. But what exactly is it?
A friend once told me she walked in the woods every day because the woods were her church, and why wouldn’t you pray every day when your church was so beautiful? Today I spent Yom Kippur in such a church–a temple, really–and really did find prayer and fasting and atonement so much easier. Guided by lower and upper case grace, I walked the paths of my friend’s beautiful land–pink, amber, ochre, grey. I prayed to my ancestors for forgiveness for how I failed their line, asked G-d to help me be a better vessel in the second half of my life, talked aloud to the highest spirits of those with whom I am blocked. Light-headed and clear-hearted, that’s how I felt when the sun disappeared again. Good. G’mar Tov, beautiful people. You are my temple.
I became an adult at age 6, when I first realized no one would dry my tears but me. What happened that day is a story I may tell another time, but my point here is that there is something very ancient and very tragic about the child who weeps without hope of comfort. In short, they are no longer a child, but an adult who carries the world’s weight on shoulders too small to sustain it. Continue Reading →
On the heels of Wednesday’s Carrie carnage, this morning I shuffled into the kitchen and a painting of Mother Mary (Mother Freaking Mary!) flew off the wall, shattering three wine glasses on its way down as well as a rooster-shaped candy dish that I love so much I actually wrote an essay about it. You know it’s serious when gentle, loving Mary, the very essence of the divine feminine, expresses wrath–via a rooster, no less. Am I being haunted by my higher self, Samhain style? Doth my unconscious runneth over? Is today’s new moon in Scorpio breaking everything down to enforce a bruja breakthrough? Whatever, man. I am aware that nothing is more throw-down than messing with a Capricorn’s things. So, universe: I accept your challenge. But what exactly is it?
A friend once told me she walked in the woods every day because the woods were her church, and why wouldn’t you pray every day when your church was so beautiful? Today I spent Yom Kippur in such a church–a temple, really–and really did find prayer and fasting and atonement so much easier. Guided by lower and upper case grace, I walked the paths of my friend’s beautiful land–pink, amber, ochre, grey. I prayed to my ancestors for forgiveness for how I failed their line, asked G-d to help me be a better vessel in the second half of my life, talked aloud to the highest spirits of those with whom I am blocked. Light-headed and clear-hearted, that’s how I felt when the sun disappeared again. Good. G’mar Tov, beautiful people. You are my temple.