History, Pledge and Offering

The groundhog did not see his shadow in DC, though the sun is peeking out from between the clouds now. Even though it's supposed to snow today, and we've had a real winter for a change, it will not last forever, or so goes the groundhog divination.

I love the Feast of Bridgid. That's today, February 2nd. It's the halfway point between winter solstice and spring equinox, a time here in Washington DC when the increasing daylight is suddenly irrefutable. A few weeks ago the increasing light was kind of symbolic, but today, it's real.

In San Francisco we celebrated the holiday with a two-fold event. We gathered as a community to contemplate the dark quarter of the year just past (from Halloween to Bridgid). It was my favorite public ritual. Imagine several hundred people walking counterclockwise around a central altar, meditating on the dark season. The idea was to decide what it was we wanted to leave behind, and what we wanted to bring with us into the light of spring. As each individual completed that meditation, he/she would turn and begin to walk clockwise. I always loved the feeling in the room when about half the participants had turned while others were still deep in meditation. I loved the sound of the feet on the wood floor, and the polite negotiating of the space between those going clockwise and those going counterclockwise.

After that exercise we opened our hearts to the idea of a pledge, something that would guide us into the season of spring with purpose and focus. Each person approached the central altar and spoke his/her pledge out loud. The community was there to witness these beautiful pledges. Someone on the edge of the circle "sealed" each pledge by tapping an anvil with a sledgehammer because Bridgid is the goddess (or saint, if you prefer) of poetry, smithcraft and healing.

Many years have passed since I've celebrated with a group in this way, but the pledges keep on coming, year after year. This year my pledge is:

I will say what I mean, and mean what I say.

Imagine the clang of the sledgehammer on the anvil.

The second piece of our celebration happened in smaller groups of friends who gathered for afternoon tea and poetry. Each person brought a poem to read aloud. Oh man, I LOVED the poetry gatherings, which is the reason I started the poetry slam here in the bloghood. Five years ago when the blog world was flooded with poetry it was so unusual, such a rush to go from blog to blog reading poetry.

Today many of my blog friends publish poems on a regular basis. Some, like Steven, publish a poem almost every day. Tom often publishes his psychedelic poetry, as does John who writes passionate, amazing poetry and is also a fantastic translator of French poetry. Willow has come out as a poet on her always excellent blog. I could go on, but you get the picture.

So I see poetry here all the time these days. It's a great luxury - but - it's still extra special on Candlemas, Imbolc, Groundhog Day, the Feast of Brigid - today, that is - because at this time of year poetry cracks the ice in the heart of the earth, reminding her that spring must come again, or so they say.

Happiest return to the light and warmth of spring! (To those in the southern hemisphere, may your journey into winter be safe and beautiful.)

My offering:

LAUGHING AT THE WORD TWO

Only

That Illumined
One

Who keeps
Seducing the formless into form

Had the charm to win my
Heart.

Only a Perfect One

Who is always
Laughing at the word
Two

Can make you know

Of

Love.

--Hafiz

February

I know it's supposed to be a terrible month, February I mean. Here in the American midatlantic it's deep winter, cold, drab, and though the daylight is increasing, it's still more dark than light.

Perhaps it has something to do with my contrarian nature, but - I love February. It's my birthday month, for one thing, so that sets it apart. It's the month that includes Chinese New Year, Groundhog Day, and Valentine's Day, when it's customary to tell the people you love how much you care. What's not to love about that? The frenzy of the holiday season is long past, and the upsurge of springtime energy is not yet palpable. It's a quiet month, the last month here in DC when it's OK to stay indoors reading all day. In March things start popping outside, the life force, springtime energy begins to rise, making it impossible to be serene. But in February, it's OK to sleep late, to languish about in your jammies until mid-morning, listen to music, drink tea.

It's the shortest month even on leap years when February gets an extra day. That makes the month quite unique. Did you know February is Marijuana Awareness Month? It is. It's also Library Lovers Month, International Boost Self Esteem Month, and National Pull Your Sofa Off the Wall Month, whatever that means. I didn't make up any of those, really I didn't!

Oh yeah, I love February. Welcome to my favorite month!

Snow and Vodka

Her dog matches her coat.

We had a lovely snow storm in DC yesterday. I'm not sure what the official snowfall total is (how do they determine these things anyway?) but to my eye, on Capitol Hill, we got about 5" or 6" of the fluffiest, lightest, most powdery snow.

The snow in combination with very cold temperatures, 18 or 19 degrees F., put me in a mood for martinis. Yes, that's plural. I had two which is one too many for me these days. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

My roommate valiantly set out to buy the ingredients, after which we gathered some snow to sprinkle on top of the beautifully garnished cocktails. I should have taken pics of the spiraling lemon twists floating on a cloud of soft snow layered over vodka and vermouth. It melted fast but was so pretty.

As the afternoon faded my roommates told me (while under the influence, and in the nicest way possible) that if I colored my hair and lost 20 lbs I could be a real cougar and date men half my age. It was so sweet of them, it really was. The truth is, I don't want to date men half my age, I don't want to pretend to be 40-ish again. I always felt like a total fraud when I was younger. I was always trying to pretend to be cool and glamorous, two qualities that are - for me - completely false. It's only now, in my fifties, that I feel comfortable inside my body.

But I didn't explain this to them because we were having such a nice time. We tried on each other's slippers, danced to Earth, Wind and Fire, wept a tear or two as we listened to Nina Simone.

It was a lovely snow storm outdoors, and a very beautiful martini storm inside. A couple of Advils have squashed my headache, now it's time for coffee and granola, then work. All's well that ends well. What a nice day yesterday was!


Dogs and people enjoyed the snow.

Paradigm Shift in the Dreamscape

I am completely fascinated with my dream life. My dreams are so creative, sometimes it feels like I've channeled them. It's like going to the movies - man - I LOVE my dreams.

Sometimes I write them down carefully, re-read them later in an effort to understand what's going on in dreamtime. Sometimes I just let the dreams wash over me. I figure they can take care of themselves sometimes.

Over the years certain themes have emerged, i.e. the dream in which I'm trying to pack all my stuff in suitcases that are already full. I am going to miss my flight if I don't get packed asap. Or, I'm trying to get from point A to point B. I can't find my car so I decide to walk a most circuitous route that takes me through other people's apartments, down alleyways, through warehouses, up and down scary cliffs, over rivers, etc. These dreams were never fun.

Recently the patterns of these dreams are shifting in the best way imaginable. Right in the middle of scaling some sheer, slippery cliff I realize there's an easier path. In the dream I think, "I don't have to do this. I'll take the nice winding path over there." In the suitcase dream, instead of packing feverishly, lately the bags are already packed and though I'm lugging them to and fro, the stuff inside them is not spilling out like in the old dreams.

I even found my car recently in a dream. One of my great teachers appeared in the dream to help me find it and then we polished the car with big chamois cloths. What a triumph! I used to dream about looking for my car so often that one of my teachers actually made up a song about it. I tried to cure myself by having a friend park my car in a huge parking lot while I waited in a store. She handed me the keys and I set out to find my car. It took me all of 2 minutes in "real" life. But I continued to have the dream anyway. Until a few weeks ago I had NEVER dreamed of finding my car. Clearly something very good is going on at the deepest levels of my unconscious.

Last night's dream featured me with my backpack (no longer a suitcase) following an easy path over water and through apartments where the residents welcomed me and pointed to the back door. No more sneaking around in these dreams! I am finding my way.

In the dream I had applied the best moisterizer which might account for why the young Japanese man wanted to snuggle with me. In dreamtime, I tell him to back off. I am quite harsh. President Obama is there. He says to me, "I'm sure he wants to snuggle with ALL the old ladies." I realize OH. The Japanese guy is telling me I'm attractive. President Obama says,"You might want to reconsider your attitude."

Hmmm. I believe I am reconsidering many attitudes, way down there in the funky recesses of my mind. 2010, so far, is a really good year. May it continue! Oh yeah!!

The Reasons Why

Do you believe in cause and effect? Some days I'm not so sure there is an explanation for every single thing, or maybe it's more accurate to say that some days I believe the world to be so complicated that there really is no way to explain why things are as they are, which is not to say we shouldn't try. But perhaps we are a bit ambitious to believe we ever can. I mean really.

I'm thinking about cause and effect this morning because this week, I believe somewhat inadvertently, the Sufi acupuncturist named his diagnosis of my most central disharmony. He was trying to explain his approach to helping me through my springtime allergies, something we are already gearing up for. I'm sure he didn't realize I would spend most of the afternoon after my treatment looking through books on Chinese medicine, finding the symptoms associated with this disharmony, connecting the dots in my never ending search to figure out WHY I am the way I am.

What I learned was indeed fascinating and spot on. No wonder I overreact to the surge of life force in spring! The diagnosis, kidney yang deficiency, means that my life gate fire is subdued. In order to respond appropriately to spring in the fecund midatlantic, one must have a roaring bonfire of kidney yang to balance the inner with outer. Because of the weakness in my life gate fire, the upsurge of spring feels like an attack. My body overreacts. Back in the days before I saw the acupuncturist, all of May was a miserable fog of sneezing, dripping and congestion.

What I especially love about this diagnosis is the fact that it's not my fault! Kidney yang is something you're either born with or without. My mother, like most American moms in the 1950's, smoked cigarettes, drank martinis and coffee while pregnant. Am I saying it's her fault? Nah. She had no idea she was depleting my resources; she was just living her life. My diagnosis is a case of no fault disharmony. As it turns out, I've done my best, unconsciously, to restore that deficiency. All the foods I love the most help build kidney yang. Edifying to know I've tried.

The way my energy flags in the afternoons, my spring allergies, my flaky willpower, the fact that I have such a hard time returning phone calls? It's NOT MY FAULT people, it's not. It's not weakness of character or psychosomatics or neurosis, oh no! It's kidney yang deficiency. Cause and effect - oh yeah!

I know, it doesn't account for every one of my flaws, it is not a unifying theory of everything nor is it a bullet-proof excuse, but I'm kind of in love with my diagnosis this week. It feels nice to take myself off the hook for a few days, it really does. OK? OK.

To every thing, there is a season

The wheel of the year is turning. Here in DC, at 5:30 p.m. the sky is still light. Just a couple of weeks ago, 5:30 was night time. The days are expanding, and though winter is far from over, there's hope that spring will arrive, as usual, in late March. Oh yeah.

It is not springtime for the American empire. Listening to the president speak last night, what I remembered (haven't thought about it for awhile) is that we can step back gracefully or we can fall face first into disgrace. The option of being the big neighborhood bully of the world is no longer viable. We have to stop. We will stop or be stopped, one way or another. No empire is everlasting. The choice is ours as to how the decline of our empire unfolds. It really isn't all up to Obama. He's just one guy.

A blog friend tells me that he saw this bumper sticker: Dear God, please make me the kind of person President Obama thinks I am. May it be true! May we all wake up from our anger, impatience, and our sense of entitlement. May we stop blaming each other and get to work. May our eyes and hearts open. Are you listening, God? Are you listening, America? C'mon.

Titanic

Tonight our president will deliver his State of the Union address. For the first time in his presidency, I'm not sure I will listen/watch. I feel discouraged - not by Obama who I still think is a really good person and the best president we've had in a long time - but by the sinking ship of our empire. I find that I just don't want to hear about it. Is that denial? You tell me.

The Supreme Court decided to allow corporations the right to donate as much money as they want to political campaigns. It's a ridiculous decision in everyone's worst interest. And our president decided to freeze spending on domestic programs like education - an area in which investment is sorely needed - while not freezing military spending.

Most days I feel very lucky to live my privileged, cushy lifestyle where I can choose not to eat wheat, for instance, because there are so many other things I can eat, in which I get a nice hot shower every day, crank up the heat when I'm cold or the A/C when I'm too hot, and can attend to almost all my discomforts.

Some days it makes me heartsick to live in this empire. It is not sustainable, but we carry on anyway, as if the resources of this planet were unlimited. They are not! We are crazy to think it's more important to keep fighting two hopeless wars than to invest in education. Please.

Like all empires that rise too high, we are falling. OK. OK. Some days my heart sinks along with the empire. That's all I'm saying.


Detritus from last week's "Right to Life" march on the mall.