Falling upwards towards the light

Summer - so far - is fabulous. We've had some hot days, but lots of rain and weather fronts that move through, taking with them the terrible humidity and heat. This morning is gorgeous - the windows are open at the chateau, something I don't remember doing last summer from the beginning of May until almost Thanksgiving.

Last summer was not only relentlessly hot, but extraordinarily difficult.

It's only now beginning to dawn on me how stressful it was to be stalked. When the stalker left her "gifts" by the front door - bags full of small stones, jars of glitter and other creepy spell-like items - my immediate reaction was anger. I know dark magic - I studied dark magic during the last few years I was involved with the S.F. community - hence I recognized what she was trying to do. Also I knew how to avoid the clingy energy she meant to wrap around me. The notes and letters she wrote were even creepier and went straight into the freezer where their awful energy couldn't move around much.

Perhaps not every stalker is in a dark place, I'm not sure, but the person who stalked me was, she surely was. She wished to drag me into the darkness with her. She wanted to drown me in her darkness. Maybe a better way to describe it is to say she would have devoured me if that was possible. She was very disturbed.

Last summer what I felt was angry. Looking back on it now I see how creepy it was. Surely at some level I was afraid, too.

Having to throw away every piece of my clothing was traumatic too - not that I had beautiful clothes, mind you. When the old clothes mildewed, that was a actually a good thing since it forced me to unload all those ugly, stained, ill fitting clothes. At the time I felt a little bit panicked. It's kind of funny to think about now. Coming, as the mildew did, at exactly at the same time as the worst of the stalking magnified its impact, no doubt about it.

In spite of the trauma, I prevailed. I booked clients and cooked dinner for friends. I practiced aggressive self care. I had a lot of trouble breathing last summer, but I mean really, who wouldn't? Other than that I was determined and strong.

There's a way in which my dip into the dark arts, way back when, made me brave and helped me fully form even though dark magic is a study of how not to be, what not to do. I woke up and got my ass out of the tradition, though. That piece of it, the exit, was the most empowering work I did in that tradition, by far.

If I had stayed involved with the dark magic trolls, I don't know what would have happened to me. My sense is it would not have been good. But I got out, oh my I surely did! It's interesting to think about.




But that was then and this is now.

I haven't heard a peep from the stalker since an email last December. If she emails twice a year, I'm OK with that. My preference would be to never hear from her again of course.

Though certainly not stylish or glamorous, my wardrobe this summer is far nicer than it was before the mildew. I don't even remember those old clothes. Hasta la vista.

I used to think I needed dark and light to live fully. The idea was to partake equally of both, though since balance has never been my best thing, I tended to go too far in most situations. As I grow into early old age, my perspective has shifted. I'm thinking that leaning into the light as much as possible, with an occasional dip into the dark, is the way to go from here on.

There's a diaphanous quality to the energy of old people that requires more light than dark, I think. Dark is heavy. Young people have the strength and oomph to contend with it. As we get older, it seems crucial to dwell in the light.

Please do not ask me to explain what I just wrote. I have no idea what I mean.

I have clients this afternoon but the whole morning free. I will walk around my beautiful neighborhood, bathe in the clear light of this beautiful morning and offer prayers of thanks that last summer is long gone. Onwards & upwards!

Shalom.