The hard work of healing

The bloody fucking blue full moon from hell has peaked and is now on the wane. Thank god! It was a strenuous moon that brought many helpful insights and incredibly healing dreams. I journeyed back to a painful era of personal history and connected with an old friend I thought I had lost forever. Then I read this, by one of my favorite astrologers:

Was your blue moon blue? The Moon was conjunct Chiron aka as "The Wounded Healer". Old wounds and a confrontation with your own wounded self may have been front and center these last few days, but remember that facing these parts of yourself with love and compassion can bring healing, even if it feels hard and painful at the time. Hang in there folks you are not alone....

Thanks Fern! I've been looking at my old wounds all summer, actually all year, but something did indeed peak in the last few days.

I am comforted when I discover that I've been dancing in alignment with the larger energies, almost always. I love blaming that old devil moon anytime I'm flopping around. And I am a healer, hence must engage almost constantly, or so it seems, in self healing. It is strenuous but I don't mean to complain.

I've been thinking about something the Sufi acupuncturist said this past week. I was talking to him about how the Holocaust is a part of me, has always been with me. I said, "I can't explain why. My parents subjected my siblings to the same awful photographs of the emaciated bodies stacked up in piles, they told my sisters and brothers about the camps and Hitler, too, just as they told me. But, although my sisters and brother remember and honor that terrible era, it isn't in them, with them, as it is for me."

He said, "But they aren't healers."

Oh.

A classic example of shamanic healing has to do with taking on the illness of others, then battling the soul of the illness as one would a "real" enemy, eventually (one hopes) defeating that enemy. One-on-one it might be possible, but what is with me taking on these huge spirals of wounded energy?

I remember my shamanic work on the Civil War battlefields. I tried so hard to do good there, but the energy of that war is potent to this day and anyway, Reya vs. the Civil War was never a fair contest. It was Bambi Meets Godzilla.

I'm still drawn to the battlefields, but I avoid them. I learned my lesson. Now I'm taking on the task of rising from the ashes of the Holocaust. I want to honor, to remember, but I would prefer to spend my remaining days in this body less involved with this slowly unwinding horror. The walk through the museum earlier this summer, the tattoo, was part of that effort. It will be ongoing for awhile, I think.

I wonder if I'll be able to do it. Ya think?

Happy Sunday. Shalom.

Powerful Dreams

In my dreams lately I've been introducing people I love dearly to one another. These moments of connection involve people whose lives in the "real" world are utterly separate. They would never meet otherwise. In the dreams I feel a luscious sense of happiness as I make the introductions. My feeling is that these beloveds should at least know each other's names. The luminous feeling in these dream moments lingers even days later.

Last night I dreamed I found my ex-husband and Hitler in a bathtub, both of them dead, arm in arm, like old friends. Though unnerving to find dead bodies, I was relieved to know for certain that they had both passed away, peacefully it seemed. There was no evidence of foul play, as they say in murder mysteries. Jake was with me in the dream. We sat calmly, waiting for the police to arrive, to clean up the scene and take charge of the bodies.

I think these dreams represent a healing synthesis taking place at the deepest levels. Wow.

So perhaps the heat of this bloody hot summer, the stressful situations and experiences, have been worth it. Ya think?

The blue moon has turned at last, a good thing if you ask me. Shabbat shalom, y'all. Peace.

In response to a restorative emergency

Yesterday I took the whole day off, thanks to clients who agreed to reschedule their appointments. I really needed a day completely unstructured, completely free.

It has been a good summer, but a stressful summer. The Holocaust museum, the tattoo, which (should say) I'm beginning to get used to, the stalker, not to mention the awful month of July, the hottest month in recorded history in the U.S. It wasn't as hot here as in the midwest, but it was bloody hot. And of course there is the presidential campaign which is poisonous all around. By yesterday, with that old devil moon coming to fullness, I was at the end of my rope psychically, psychologically, and physically as well.

My day off was glorious and restorative in ways that are hard to describe. I meditated and prayed as usual in the morning, but after that, I did exactly as I damn well pleased. I didn't clean the chateau, I didn't cook, I didn't listen to the radio (as there was way too much venom being spewed over the Republican convention. Who needs that?)


At the National Botanical Garden

There's a spaciousness, literal and metaphorical, in a completely unscheduled, unstructured day. A day without plans is a large, well lit room with no furniture and many windows, all thrown open so the breeze can blow through it. Ahhhh.

See? I really did need a day off!

I met a friend for coffee after which I walked my ass off, popping in and out of my favorite locations on Capitol Hill and the national mall. It was perfect.

When was the last time you reserved an entire day to do exactly as you please? I highly recommend it. Shalom.

Foul Behavior All Around

I think if you did a double blind test of those of us who don't own TVs and therefore will not watch either presidential convention, with those who do, our blood pressure would measure far lower and calmer than those who have decided to tune in.

On Facebook I feel I am picking my way through a minefield of toxicity from both my Democratic and Republican friends. Reactions are ugly, toxic, hateful from both liberals and conservatives. I find myself searching for cat videos, pics of friends' kids - anything to avoid the political poison floating around.

Before the last election I was all over the toxicity, venting my spleen right and left. I'm older now, and too I live TV free - I highly recommend it for good health and well being in general, and never more than right now specifically.

What I was wondering this morning is if a huge national disaster would pull us together. Oh wait, there's the hurricane, but people used it as an excuse to be ugly and hateful. What about the drought? Yeah. That, too, is being bandied back and forth as the other party's fault.

If I had money, I would leave the U.S. until after the election. Though ... the Eurozone isn't in much better shape, is it?

I love human beings, but even so, right now in the midst of all the hatred, I'm recoiling from my own species, both those I agree with and those I disagree with.

Is this awfulness necessary? You tell me.

Shalom.

What a summer! Good lord.

It was a good summer for me, mostly. Stressful, what with the stalker (who I have not heard from in a few days. Hoping that trend continues into perpetuity).

In so many ways this summer has been a time of profound healing ... which is also, come to think of it, stressful. Healing requires mindful presence, endurance, the strength to face the rigors of change and evolution, to be brave and clear eyed, open hearted. Healing is not for sissies.

I've stuck with it more or less, ducking out now and again via the soothing chill of a martini. Ahh liquor. I am not the first nor will I be the last to self medicate upon occasion. Fortunately, as a part of growing older, I can't tolerate much of the oldest psychiatric medicine. Because I have been constitutionally unable to mount a truly successful escape, I have mostly benefitted from the Summer of Extreme Healing.

I look forward to fall which is, in Washington DC, still several months away. It isn't until after Halloween that the weather truly cools down. Until then, many days will be humid, some will be downright hot, and there will not likely be a good frost for many weeks, necessitating a continued battle against the bugs until close to Thanksgiving. At the beginning of the summer, a humid day doesn't seem so bad, but at this point I am over it. I see jackets hanging in the closet, but can't imagine ever wanting to wear them.

It has been a loooooong, hot summer. But I don't want to complain. Life is good, I am healthy and happy. Shalom!

Back to the drawing board

Sunrise

I asked another beloved family to celebrate Shabbat with me this week, but ended up rescinding the invite because I had to work Friday afternoon. The stress involved in getting dinner together for guests after a day of work was definitely not what I had in mind when I decided to try celebrating the holiday.

Friends say that with family, you ask people to pitch in and help, reducing the pressure involved in getting dinner on the table. Yes, that works with family because they know where everything is and how things work in the kitchen. With guests, I could ask them to help but would then have to not only answer questions about the where's and how's, but also maneuver around them. That would be, for me, even more stressful than doing it all myself.

So here I sit, wondering how to proceed. I would like to celebrate Shabbat by spending time with people I love, feasting, toasting, and relaxing, but the pressure involved in doing all the work of preparation, every week, is discouraging. Last fall I hosted Thanksgiving dinner here at the chateau. It took me two days to prepare. It was a lot of fun, also exhausting. I wouldn't do it again.

Shabbat is a family centered holiday. I live alone, have no kids, no husband. I am a family of one, so how do I square my solitary life with this family based holiday?

I do not have an answer to that.

Though I did indeed enjoy Temple Micah's Friday night service, the temple itself is an impossible commute for those of us who live across town and don't have cars. By bus it is a very unpleasant hour each way. By subway it's even longer as the closest station is a half-hour walk from the temple. So that's not going to work for me.

I'm scratching my head, wondering, questioning - and I will admit - once again feeling like a freak in the religion of my ancestors. I flirted briefly with the idea of seeking a partner, but then realized that wanting a partner just so I could celebrate Shabbat is not the best reason to throw myself into the unsavory world of old folk dating. I mean really, do you ever really look at men of my age? I try not to!

In every way you can imagine, I enjoy being single. It suits me, except in terms of celebrating Shabbat.

It's an interesting conundrum that I will be chewing on for awhile. Perhaps this idea I had of celebrating the Sabbath should be respectfully placed in the round file as we used to say back in the day when we kept information on paper. I'm still thinking about it, but I'm not expecting to come up with a viable solution.

Judaism has always been an ill fit for me. And yet I yearn for it. It's so interesting. Shalom.

Sunset

More like the tortoise than the hare

Has this directional marker always been here on the east side of the capital? Really? I never noticed it before. So weird. I tend to notice these things. Oh well.

I am a very slow processor of information. I always have been. My tendency, when I need to make a decision, is to take in lots of information, let it all simmer in the back of my mind/heart. I sleep on it, think about it, pray about it, wonder, let go and then return to whatever conundrum I'm trying to resolve. When I give it time, I am much more likely to come to a balanced understanding and can make much better decisions.

Sadly, I live in a society of snap decisions. When I was younger, I was always in awe of the people who knew straightaway whether they wanted to say yes or no, who could make decisions within seconds or minutes. I wanted to be quick like they were.

I made many very bad decisions because I didn't really get how important it was for me, personally, to sit with ideas over time before deciding.

The night my ex husband proposed, I was so taken aback. It was the last thing I expected. At the time I was engaged in a torrid affair with a violinist. I believed my relationship with my then boyfriend was winding down, not ramping up. We had just been through a terrible era after which I really had no interest in staying with him. I was gathering my wits about me before vamoosing, but then he popped the question.

I remember saying, "Uh, uh, uh .... uh .... I don't know what to say!" He said, "You're supposed to say yes." So I said yes, with a lump in my throat and a very heavy feeling in my stomach.

It should not be surprising to hear that I was miserable in my marriage and that it did not last very long. Good lord.

I could tell more stories of poor decision making, but what's the point in doing that?

What I'm thinking about this morning is how grateful I am that I've learned to honor what works for me, even though I'm swimming upstream in my society by taking my time. These days, when I come to a decision, I can be fairly certain it's the best decision for me. I am grateful to be able - maybe should say determined - at last to give myself the time I need before saying yes or no.

One of my mantras these days is to say what I mean and mean what I say. In order to do so, I have to take time, think, sleep, wonder, pray, think some more. The people in my life who are sharp and quick and fast thinkers are at times quite annoyed with me. I don't blame them for wishing I could hurry up. However, it is such a relief to know in my heart of hearts that when I say no, I mean NO. When I say yes, I mean YES, with my whole heart and whole mind.

Honestly I am such a freak in my society. Oh well. Happy Friday. Shalom.

I love the cloud in reflected the window. Looks like a passenger in the back seat.