Mid-life Nesting

About to land at National Airport. Took the pic from inside the Metro train

Although there is still no move in date, I've been assured that the apartment is mine, as soon as the current residents are able to depart, so I don't believe I am jinxing anything by writing a little bit about it. It is such a SWEET space, light filled, spacious but not too big. My favorite thing about it is that the feel good feng-shui focus is all about the eat-in kitchen.

I am jazzed. The last time I lived alone, I still didn't know how to cook, nor was I much interested in it. In the intervening two and a half decades, I've become someone who LOVES to cook and entertain. Who knew that I would become, later in life, a person who loves to feed people? Wow. You never know what's going to happen.

Right now, I'm all about nesting, thinking about the new apartment (whenever that happens), what I'll need to be comfortable and at home there. Someday, I'll be settled in and ready to receive visitors. When that happens, every one of you reading this is invited to come have a cup of coffee or lunch or dinner, or a glass of wine or a martini, dessert? Whatever. Seriously. I mean it.


The God clouds have been so incredible this week. This one is just as beautiful reflected in a pool of water as it was in the sky. Wow.

Nine Circles

I'm still superstitious enough to include two "God" pictures with this post.

DISCLAIMER: I respect everyone's opinions about Hell and the Devil, including all those that do not align with my own. I'm not saying here that I'm right or that this is definitive. There's room for everyone to have her/his own sense of this. OK? Hope so.

Do you believe in Hell? I do, definitely. Though unclear about what happens after death, I've definitely encountered Hell in life. Haven't you?

The great Rabbi Manewith said it perfectly; that Hell is a condition in which you forget or can not locate your connection to the Divine. Cut off from the bright, pure, unformed source of everything feels a whole lot like slogging through pits of fire, weighed down by heavy iron chains. Oh yeah.

Some forms of Hell are self-inflicted: staying in hurtful, destructive relationships past the point at which you continue to learn, staying in hideous jobs that make no sense to you, feeling trapped in the need to be somebody you aren't. All of these forms of Hell "look" - to me - exactly like the Devil card in the Tarot. The people in that card could easily escape, if only they had the presence of mind to remove the chains and carry on. There is a strong quality of stuckness, rigidity and lack of imagination in this kind of Hell.

Other forms of Hell have nothing to do with the games we play in our own minds. When people are diagnosed with cancer and other horrible diseases, or are placed in the middle of the desert in Iraq with 80 pounds of body armor and a big gun, they go straight to a Hell that was not of their own making and over which they have absolutely no power. Losing a loved one, no matter how it happens, is a ticket to Hell. Victims of violent crimes, those who suffer from severe depression ... I could go on about this, but you get the picture, right?

All the above said, I'm actually not one of those people who believes Hell "shouldn't" exist (whatever that means). I don't even think of Hell as bad, though of course it's uncomfortable. Sometimes the only way to really learn, to become wiser, involves a visit to Hell. There is a cleansing energy around visits to Hell, though that kind of harsh purification always leaves its mark on those involved; scars, baldness, missing body parts, or a deeply careworn, sad look on the face.

The point of a visit to Hell is to purify - or whatever - then GET OUT. The getting out when the time is right seems to be the tricky part, as far as I can tell, since visits to Hell create stuckness and rigidity. At least that's today's working theory.

Is it true that a part of life in this form involves visits to Hell? Though not at all sure about it, I don't know anyone who has never been there. Do you? Similarly, encountering the Devil is inevitable. You know you're talking to the Devil when you begin to believe that maybe you'll win the lottery, or something will solve all your problems for you. Fantasies of fame, beauty, allure? That's the prince of darkness whispering in your ear, definitely. Dark fantasies like paranoia and all the phobias are also the work of old Shatan.

Mastery of encounters with the Devil involves recognizing what's going on, then saying NO. No thanks, I can figure out my own problems with the help of some friends. No thanks, I'm fine as I am. NO. I love that phrase, "Satan, get behind me." That makes so much sense to me. A friend gave me a pin way back when that says, "What part of I BANISH THEE don't you understand?" Loved that pin. I wonder what happened to it?

Now maybe I have no business trying to figure out the hellish and the devilish. Indeed I was once so superstitious I wouldn't have dared to write about it publicly. Those kinds of superstitions give power to the hellish and devilish. I'm so glad to have risen from that level of interaction with the dark side. Whew!

Today in DC is going to be a little taste-o-Hell: 95 degrees, thick humidity, and toxic air, a.k.a. "unhealthy for sensitives," a phrase that always makes me wonder - I mean surely it must be unhealthy for everyone, right? Including the insensitives, yes? I say yes. I'm going to lay low, mostly. I'll run an errand or two just because I'm stubborn, but I've visited Hell plenty of times in my life. There is no need to breathe toxic air just to be recalcitrant. I think I'll sit this one out, if you don't mind. Oh yeah.

If I can't take the heat ...

Lincoln Park was full of lounging people on Memorial Day. I love this couple. They are so relaxed.

Memorial Day weekend is done. The Rolling Thunder guys have rolled out of town. School is out, the swimming pools have opened. Oh yeah, summer is here.

I know that DC is part of the American south, and therefore all about summer. There are people, (to my mind, an unbelievable number of them), who love the blistering heat, the oppressive humidity. Those folks might as well be members of a separate species. I was born in the Rocky Mountains; this skanky, swampy, sweaty weather makes no sense to my body or being.

Some days (like today apparently) I whinge. Most days I prefer to stand tall and face the summer heat, or - to be honest - challenge the heat. I react to summer by becoming obstreperous, confrontive. I grab a hat, put on my shades, throw a big bottle of cold water into my backpack and get out there no matter how hot it is, no matter how thick or toxic the air. A major component of my Plan to Stay Sane includes spending a lot of time outdoors, no matter the weather. I test myself against the DC heat, I do. Perhaps a part of my agenda has to do with the wisdom that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Who knows?

And, too, I'll admit how I revel, after a summer walk, in the pure carnal pleasure that accompanies a nice cool shower, a glass or two of chilled water, followed by an Arnold Palmer. Mmmmmmmmm ...

It was very hot yesterday but I worked all day so had no chance to tilt against the weather. Today I'll get out there, I'll walk and sweat and perhaps curse under my breath, my own way of "welcoming" summer. But I'll keep my eyes on the prize: the cool shower, and the pure poetry of iced tea mixed with lemonade that awaits me after my ordeal. Focus, Reya: focus!

C'mon summer! I am not scared of you. Bring it. C'mon.

What is remembered, lives

I'm thinking about you today, dear ones, holding you close to my heart. It's not a difficult task because I love you. I really do. You know who you are: you who had the nerve, or were naive enough to be convinced, or had a great conviction about what you were doing when you signed the contract, when you picked up a weapon, when you followed orders and put your life on the line.

What the terra cotta warriors told me is that at the confluence of two mighty rivers, there is chaos and destruction. They were describing what happens during a battle between two armies.

For whatever reasons, you found yourself, at some point, at the center of a destructive confluence. You died or you lived, for some of you I'm guessing it was a little bit of both or a whole lot of both. You, my loves, know in your blood and in your bones, the chaos at the center of the vortex.

I am in awe of you, all of you, who served. Dead and alive, just coming out of the storm of war, or just heading in, those of you who do the dirty work on the ground or in the air, on the water, all I can say is: thank you. I'm against war of every kind, but I salute you and love you, dearly dearly.

Peace.

With a deep bow of respect to the Fairy Queen

For all who wander, lost or misplaced, for those who do not know their own hearts or their own truths, for the dead, for the living, a wish and a hope that you are guided to, or stumble upon, the third road. May it be so.

THOMAS THE RHYMER

True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,
A marvel with his eye spied he.
There he saw a lady bright
Come riding by the Eildon Tree.

Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,
Her mantle of the velvet fine,
At every lock of her horse's mane
Hung fifty silver bells and nine.

True Thomas he pulled off his cap
And bowed down to his knee:
"All hail, thou Queen of Heaven!
For thy peer on earth I never did see."

"O no, O no, Thomas," she said,
"That name does not belong to me;
I am but the queen of fair Elfland
That am hither come to visit thee."

"Sing and play, Thomas," she said
"Sing and play along with me,
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your body I will be."

"Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That fate shall never frighten me."
And he has kissed her rosy lips,
All under the Eildon Tree.

"Now ye must go with me," she said,
"True Thomas, ye must go with me,
And ye must serve me seven years,
Through weal and woe, as chance may be."

She mounted on her milk-white steed,
She's taken True Thomas up behind,
And every time her bridle rung
The steed flew faster than the wind.

O they rode on, and farther on,
The steed went swifter than the wind;
Until they reached a desert wide,
And living land was left behind.

"Lie down, lie down now, True Thomas,
And rest your head upon my knee;
Abide and rest a little space,
And I will show you wonders three."

"O see ye not yon narrow road,
So thick beset with thorns and briars?
That is the path of righteousness,
Though after it but few enquire."

"And see ye not that broad, broad road
That lies across the lily leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Though some call it the road to heaven."

"And see ye not that lovely road,
That winds about the fern'd hillside?
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night must ride."

"But Thomas, you must hold your tongue,
Whatever you might hear or see,
For if you speak in fair Elfland,
You'll never get back to your own country."

Soon they came to a garden green,
And she pulled an apple from a tree;
"Take this for thy wages, True Thomas,
It will give ye the tongue than can never lie."

"My tongue is my own," True Thomas said,
"A goodly gift ye would give to me!
I'd neither dare to buy or sell,
At fair or tryst where I may be."

"I dare neither speak to prince or lord
Or ask favor from fair lady -"
"Now hold thy peace," the Lady said,
"For as I say, so must it be!"

He has gotten a coat of velvet cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green,
And till seven years were gone and past
True Thomas on earth was never seen.

Among the Living

Annapolis magnolias are just as lovely as DC mags

Part of the reason I so enjoy hanging out with ghosts is that I'm an introvert. Somehow their presence isn't as exhausting for me as being in a group of living humans. Ghostly presence is kind of like being with people who are very stoned; you can interact or not as you wish, without appearing rude.

But running with the pack is good for me, it really is. By that I mean, spending time in the company of my fellow fleshy humans. Oh yeah. Even in my dream last night I resisted the siren song of the dead. When invited into a bright white mist of partying ghosts, I said no. Believe me they made the invitation very seductive, but I resisted, stood my ground. Woke up suddenly, my heart racing.

I am liking Uranus in Aries. So far it is working for me.

Spent all day today in Annapolis, soaking up sun, doing art projects, eating and drinking and laughing with a good friend and her husband, dog and two cats. These people are seriously talented when it comes to feasting and relaxing. It was a perfect day.

Didn't leave a lot of time for blogging or reading, though. xxoo

Zap

A very smart friend advised me yesterday to back slowly away from the cemetery and from all the throngs of dead soldiers who are in town for the weekend. She said, "Go to Crate and Barrel and buy table linens. Hang out with the living." Well. I am so lucky to have smart friends like her!

Oh yeah.

In fact there are so many living people available to interact with the dead this weekend, it's not necessary for me to go with the ghosts. Also, thematically, I should be shopping for table linens, having a beer with friends, moving forward, step by step, towards all the big life changes ahead.

Astrologically, yesterday was a hulkin' dude of a day. Uranus moved into Aries for the first time since 1927. The moon was full and magic was afoot. Did you feel it?

Aries is the first sign of the zodiac, which means (to those of us interested in the positions of the planets) that we're in for surprises, unexpected good luck, electrical zings and other energetic shifts. I am such a Uranian kind of gal, I am, astrologically but also temperamentally. In order to dance in shamanic alignment with this brand new Uranian cycle, I am going to engage with the living more fully and completely than I have in the past.

I will always have a relationship with the dead. I love history in all its forms. But for now, there's no use in sidestepping life. L'chaim, y'all! And happy weekend.