Mist in the Gloaming

Sunset Fuschia, fading to Lavender, finally to Ashes of Roses.
Tangerine Moon rising in the east, Autumn Ripe, Luminous Halo.
The light fades as the mist rises in the gloaming.
The cemetary is tranquil.
The still air is Autumn brisk, filling my lungs with the spice of fallen leaves and flowers gone to seed.
My dogs trot faithful at my side, brief strain of the leashes at the glimpse of a cottontail in the dusk.
They resist nature's urge for the chase, and stay by my side.
Such Glory revives my Spirit.
I regain my Strength, Energy and Balance.
I feel my Power surge, pushing out self-doubt and debilitating fears.
I chant the Tenets of my Chosen Path: Harmony, Health, Love, Happiness, Peace, Abundance, Protection.
I wrap my renewed Energy around my Spirit like Armor.
Again I talk myself off the ledge. Renew promises to myself.
I feel the Dream within my Reach.
I must not doubt Myself.
I will not doubt Myself.
I do not doubt Myself.

Dark, Light and Balance

    Last night I randomly opened my copy of "Way of the Green Witch" and, as magic tends to happen, I was on the page I needed to see. I read the priorities of a Green Witch (or Hedgewitch, as I label myself): The Earth, Humanity, Self. I am far better at understanding the needs and intricacies of The Earth and Humanity, than I am of understanding and caring for Self.
    The book told me what I needed to hear: that discovering one's true Self is a complicated, rigorous, and often life-long journey. The we (meaning me) often hide our darkest selves deep within our psyche, so deep we may not even be aware of their existence. That often we (meaning me) become so adept at lying to ourselves about our state of happiness and well being that we don't even hear the lies, or know them for what they are. I know I do this, I know I tell myself what I want to be the Truth instead of recognizing my reality for what it is. I have spent so much of my life as an illusion of Smoke and Mirrors. I create the Illusion for myself as much as for others. The book reminded me that we all have a Dark side that we often hide so deep within that we aren't even aware of its existence. But we need Dark to Balance the Light. We need to understand the Dark part of our Nature in order to fully understand ourself, be our true Self and find Balance.
    Dark is not Bad. It is not Evil. It is not Wrong. I feel that often we (meaning me) supress the parts of our Nature that we deem unacceptable to the masses, the white-bread populace, Corporate Amercia, Primetime TV. We hide the Dark so we can slip through the mass of humanity unnoticed, instead of feeling isolated and alone. I admit that I am often on the fringe of society and a loner by choice, this is one aspect that makes me a Hedgewitch. But I need to discover the Dark inside and reconcile it with the Light in order to find my true Self, true Balance, and inner Peace.
    We must have Dark to Balance the Light. By finding those corners of shadowed psyche we can achieve Strength, Balance and Power. True Balance is a powerful energy in and of itself. Just as physical Balance is imperative to physical strength and power, so is mental Balance imperative to mental strength and power. True Balance will prevent Life's vagaries from wreaking havoc and mayhem. Balance will help me better weather the storms that are on the horizon.
    My Goal, as I enter this new phase of my life, is to search every nook of my inner Self, find my hidden Dark Nature and let her out into the Light to play. To stop living by Smoke and Mirrors, find the Dark, understand myself, leave illusion behind and step into Reality. Balance my Dark and Light. Understand my True Self. Find my Balance so I can hold strong in the face of adversity, and revel in the Joy of my Life.

Life in Limbo

    Life is making me more than just a trifle crazy lately. It seems I spend so much time waiting for results of my every effort, left in Limbo, adrift, hovering, clock watching. I want to move forward with so many aspects of Life, and I make concerted efforts to do so, but it feels as if I put my attempts out into the ether and then have to sit back and wait an eternity to see if the powers that be even noticed my endeavors.
    As I wait of course I think of everything that could go wrong with every plan that I try to set into motion. I will obsessively go over transactions in my head, searching for flaws, I will re-proofread documents and applications looking for any minutiae that may act as a rock in the cogs. The problem with Limbo is it gives me far too much time to think, ponder, obsess, tweak.
    I mentally rein myself in, try to force Brain to move onto a different track, change speed and direction. But inevitably, Brain will jump back onto the obsession track if I'm not riding the reins hard, watching every move, sensing underlying quivers of disobedience. Damn Brain anyway.
    I do tell myself that being in Limbo about housing, job, life in general, is far less stressful than waiting to hear back on biopsy results, or news on a missing or injured family member, or... or... or... There are so many other things far worse to be waiting for than whether or not I will get to buy a house, get a better paying job, or figure out what I want to do with my life. I know that Limbo such as mine is agonizing more because it is the anticipation and knowledge that I am standing on the edge on an abyss of unknown depth, waiting to step off into a new adventure of unlimited potential. 

Cause and Effect

    Cause and Effect. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Immoveable Object, Unstoppable Force.
    I am often overanalytical about how my actions affect the world around me. There are times when I become nearly paralyzed with the knowledge of how my every action and deed can have a ripple affect, changing the world around me, even if only by an infinitesimal mote. Plastic bags, recycling, chemical cleaners, oil spills, garbage, excessive packaging. How my behaviors, emotions, reactions, words can influence those around me either for good or ill. A misunderstood phrase, a snatch of conversation taken out of context, a squint mistaken for a scowl, short temper, anxiety caused over-reactions. All the little minutiae of life that add up to who I am, what I do, how I am perceived.
    Lately, as I ponder how I am often overconcerned at how my behavior affects those around me, I am stymied at how often others are completely unaware at just how much their actions affect those around them. So many people are willing to point fingers at the misbehavior of those in their life without pondering just how their own actions, words and deeds may have created or caused the behavior. They move through life oblivious, unconcerned. They cannot see the ripples, or just choose to ignore them. Cause and Effect. Action, Reaction.
    We are influenced by the events around us, just as the events around us are influenced by our Actions and Reactions. Cause and Effect. I see this as a giant spider web; touch any part of the web and the vibration will be felt throughout, the spider reacts, deciding if it is food or threat, then acts accordingly. Flee or Feed.
    I know how my actions can influence those around me. Whether it is just a smile and courtesy to the overworked gas station attendant, or a short tempered reaction to another inane question from an annoying telemarketer. I also know how my words and actions can affect those that I care about. And this is where caution must be taken. The closer you are to someone, the deeper your affect on them.
    On the flip side of this, I am having to force myself to be less concerned at how my actions affect others, and instead focus on how my actions affect ME. Too many times in my life I have been untrue to myself, to my nature, to my very essence, all because I have been concerned with action and reaction. How I am perceived, how I am judged, how I measure up. Every time it has happened, I see what I have done, analyze my behavior, see the reasons behind my actions and vow to never do it again. And yet, I fall into the same pattern again. It is a self-sabotaging behavior. I know it for what it is. I can even see myself doing it again, and will justify it because I tell myself I am merely adjusting to a relationship, making a few compromises as we all must to make a relationship work, being easy-going, mellow. And to some degree, this is true. But I often find myself agreeing to things I don't want to do, modifying my behavior to fit an acceptable role.
    Because of this, I feel like in the public eye I am often playing a role in life. Just a walk on actor, a stand in, a body double, the understudy. I know I do this because I feel as if I were to be completely myself, no holds barred, unguarded, that I would find myself even  more an outcast than I already feel. I know all my friends would argue this, tell me they love me for who I am, would accept me no matter what. And of a few of them, I would believe this. I know my close family would love me no matter what, because that is what we do (just as I would love them, protect them and cherish them no matter what). 
    But to the world in general, only a fraction of me is for public viewing. The rest is shielded by caution. As for my relationships, sometimes I think that those I have been closest to may know me the least, for it is for them that I have altered myself the most. This is a tragedy.
    As I read over these words, they are rambling and raw. Incoherence caused by fatigue, stress, and inner confusion. I am at an odd crossroads in my life. I am presented with paths that will alter the world as I know it, change my life completely and irrevocably. I have paths  before me that must be taken despite the pain, anguish, stress, loneliness, discomfort and fear that are with me now and will be my companions for some time to come. It is because of choices I have made, am making and have yet to make that I am grappling with Cause and Effect. I know I need to be true to myself, find my own way, keep moving forward despite the ripples that spread out from every step I take. I am struggling to take complete ownership of my life, my fate, my destiny. I accept the consequences of my actions, and refuse to justify my reactions. I know I can do this by Myself, for Myself.
    I will become the Immovable Object and the Unstoppable Force.

The Year of Me

    So much has happened in the last 6 weeks that I have neglected my writing for a few weeks. Not that I haven't thought of writing, actually sat down to write, typed out words time and time again. But then I have deleted them because of the stress, misery and negativity that was fueling every attempt. It has been a hard few weeks for me with most of my life in shambles, and me using all my strength to crawl up from the wreckage and managing to present a calm demeanor to the world. It hasn't been easy. When I'm alone the facade tends to crack and crumble, causing restless days, sleepless nights, mental and physical pain, and emotional anguish.
    I'm sure you can see from the words already leaking onto the page my reasons for having deleted every blog written the last few weeks. Even when I attempt to move onward to positivity, the carnage of my personal life rears it's head to slather my words with the gore of battle. Yes, it was a hard fought battle, and one in which I imagine I was the victor. But really, in any battle with massive casualties is there really any winner? No. All participants lose. It was not a victory, so much as a triage. Triage to try and remove parts of me so damaged they cannot be salvaged. But there is the residual "Phantom Limb" pain. I know what I have lost, what is gone, missing, but the pain cannot be denied. The pain is oh so very real. And there is no effective means of numbing the pain, I can only try to ignore it.
    But I digress into morose, stress, angst. Really, where I was going with this is that I do feel like I am gradually making my way back into the light. Getting myself on track. Pursuing personal goals that have been long sidelined, striving to make my life what I know it can be. I am facing a lot of hard work in the next year or two or ten, but I do not shy away from hard work. Through the long night I have managed to keep my Eyes on The Prize, as if it were the glowing nightlight at the end of a long, treacherous corridor. I am so close to my prize, a goal I have dreamed of for too many years. I know there are people out there who encouraged me, told me to not give up, but honestly I feel like it has been sheer tenacity that has finally led me this close to finally realizing a dream. Granted, there has been sacrifice, but every hard-won goal requires more than stamina, perseverence and planning, it also requires that pound of flesh. I have paid dearly over the years for dreams that were really only fantasies, so now to have a solid goal almost within my grasp is heady brew. A brew that is helping to rebuild my self-esteem and self-worth that were paid out in generous proportions with very little gain.
    I feel like I am finally going to have the chance to replenish my coffers of personal energy and passions that have been so depleted these past few years. Depleted through my own reckless spending. I should know better, now do know better, and am striving to be more cautious with how and where I spend my energies and emotions. That isn't easy for someone with my Leap Before I Look nature. I tend to launch myself into my own ideas, plans, and schemes at a reckless, breakneck pace only to get yanked up by the short-hairs of reality. I like being able to get wildly excited, emotionally invested, and crazily ramped up over a plan/idea. The downside is the inevitable Crash and Burn of Real Life. But now, my focus can be on Me, My Life, My Plans, My Destiny. I can finally rush headlong towards dreams and goals with only my own personal limitations to be overcome. Like I said, it is a Heady Brew, this feeling of control over my own Destiny. A control that has been a long time coming, a hard won treasure, paid for with more than a pound of flesh. Yes, I expect it can and will be a difficult, lonely journey at times, but again, there is always a price to be paid.
   
I am coming into the Year of Me. Finally.  

Riding the Rails

    I do find that I think in metaphors a good part of the time. I think it is a self-defense mechanism to help talk myself through the frequent rough spots of life. Just this morning, as I was pulling on my leather jacket in defense against crisp morning air at 70 miles an hour, I was thinking how easily I can get derailed. I get on an idea, and charge ahead with glorious dreams of making the fantasy a reality, only to hit a snag and get myself tossed painfully off of the rails. Derailed. Again. An advantage I have (and maybe my metaphorically  inclined brain helps with this) is that over the years, out of neccessity, I have become very good at picking myself up and getting back on track. I have to do it, because no one else will. It is difficult to be the loner. I am the only one I have to talk me down, talk me off the ledge, talk me back into a sense of purpose. It is great that I am such a good cheerleader, so optimistic, analytical and philosophical. I can find analogies and metaphors to help myself through the all too frequent downturns and defeats that I seem to stumble upon when least expected.
    I hear so many joyous reports of friends' successes achieved with the help of friends, family, partners, and I am often envious to the point of near physical pain and nausea. I know this is unfair of me. That I should revel in their triumphs, feel joy in their success, congratulate them on a job well done. But instead I feel that evil entity of envy. It is my own damned fault. I am not inclined to ask for help, preferring to work towards my dreams on my own. I am not sure if this is a learned behavior from years of having no other option, or an ingrained trait buried deep within my DNA that makes me seek the lone path. Regardless, it does make for a tough, uphill battle. Do I wish I had help? Yes. I cannot deny how often I have wished for an easier route. Could I get help if I asked? Not really. The few times that I have asked, it has done little good and only caused me grief and feelings of rejection. Oh sure, there are plenty of people out there that can offer platitudes and words of encouragement, but little to nothing in the way of solid assistance. I don't blame them, their circumstances put them in situations where they couldn't help even if they wanted to. And as for platitudes? I have become a regular Kreskin at pulling those out of my own hat.
    I am not inclined to voice these ramblings outloud. Mostly because I don't want to sound like a whinebag. But also because it does me no good, and there are plenty of people who have had a rougher time than I have over the years and are struggling with problems far deeper than mine. This doesn't keep me from knowing that my problems are more important to me. They are, after all, My Problems. It doesn't diminish how hard I struggle just to keep my head above water sometimes. How often I cry at what feel like a hundred roadblocks for my simple aspirations. The numerous Pity Parties, attendence of one, that I throw for myself. The multitude of times I see the success of others as failures in myself.
    And this is when I derail. When despite my efforts to move forward, even inch by inch, I find myself lying in the gravel next to the track silently cursing whatever glitch on the rail vaulted me off to join the cinders along the tracks. But then this is also when my metaphorically inclined Brain starts to find correlations  between my life and any journey by any means of transportation. I believe that by seeing parallels between my life and the journeys and struggles of inanimate objects I can manage to emotionally distance myself from the problems confronting me. When I can take my emotions out of the picture, even for a brief moment, I can collect my thoughts and dreams, rebundle them a bit, and climb back onto the rail to attempt to make it a few more feet down the line.
    I have been accused (or lauded) of being too rational and logical, not emotionally invested enough. This may be true. I make every attempt to channel emotions into logic and rationality. It isn't easy for one with a tempestuous nature and the desires to race headlong through life at a breakneck pace. But I have learned the skill, trained myself in cool, calculating thought. Chained the emotions that have no place to go except to shatter on the floor as they are mishandled. I keep my emotions in check, carefully guarded and protected, because they have been mishandled too often and are far too fragile to survive further mistreatment. And so in steps Brain with metaphors, symbolism, logic and rationale. Thank the gods for Brain. Brain, who keeps me calm despite the chaos of my life. Brain, that may run gibbering in circles at times, causing derailment, but then calls a halt to abberant behavior and returns to calculating logic. Brain, that despite repeated derailments (self inflicted and otherwise) manages to keep me riding the rails, inch by inch.  

Cemetary Solitude

    Of late, my favorite place for the evening dog walk has been the Zion Memorial Cemetary, established in 1886. It is a large tract of land, crossed by half a dozen asphalt lanes lined with gnarled old Ash trees. The dogs and I have been walking there nearly all summer, choosing it partially for the well tended green grass and shade trees. It is an attractive place, one end has a stand of old growth Doug Fir that were probably young trees when the first bodies were laid to rest. There are names that I see and recognize, names that have long connections with this area. Family plots that bear the same names as local businesses, roads, parks and praries. The connection between the past and the present, our history and our future.
    Some may think it a morbid, or gruesome place for my evening constitutional. Maybe. But for me it is peaceful, quiet and calming. The rare glimpse we get of another human rarely results in any kind of interplay. Most people visiting a cemetary are there for solitude, grieving, healing and peace, not for chatting up the strange looking woman with the rumpled hat and a handful of leashes restraining slobberingly friendly dogs. I still vividly remember the first person I saw at the cemetary. He was an elderly man carefully tending a gravesite. Even from a distance I could see his gentle, caring cleanup. I steered clear, not wanting to invade his loving visit with who I imagined to be his beloved wife. And in all honesty, he was so involved with his task that I am sure he never even noticed us.
    There are several graves I have developed an attraction to, a bond, an interest, a desire to know their stories. There are the graves of Edna and Tess. Born months apart in 1914. Edna was a respectable 89 years old, Tess 79 when they passed. The grave lists a single last name, implying spinster sisters. What first drew my eyes to their headstone were the items imbedded in the concrete: a wrench and a Ford logo. Not your typical girly symbols. These "Sisters," were they maybe not quite what they presented to the world? Maybe not "spinsters" but a devoted, loving couple? They obviously were more than a couple of old ladies at home baking cookies. I imagine them as two women who lived life their own way, independent and strong.
    Another "friend" is Raymond. Raymond was barely 20 years old when he died in February of 1945, a U.S. Marine fighting in WW2. I think of him, so young, dying in a strange land fighting for our freedom and for the freedoms of people totally foriegn to him. He made the ultimate sacrifice. I visit Raymond almost every day.
    The first graves that caught my eye, drew me in and captured my heart were "The Babies." That is how I think of them. Siblings. A little boy, not yet 2 and a newborn infant that was never even given a name. They both died in the late winter of 1917, months apart. The tragedy of losing two children in such a short time would be unbearable. The Babies graves are a bit overgrown, I plan on visiting them alone one day soon, and pulling the tall grasses that grow around the thin, lichen coated tombstones.
    Today, for the first time, I found a grave decorated with a dozen Hot Wheels cars. Of course I had to look. I found myself weeping over the loss of a 4 year old boy, "beloved son," who died so, so young. It seemed that so many of the graves I saw were of children and teenagers. 4 years, 15 years, 17 years old. Too young to die, and too tragic for me to not feel a heart wrenching pain for them and the ones they left behind to grieve. The grey skies, and shortened daylight only seemed to add to a sadness that I feared would overwhelm me, leaving me disfunctional for the rest of the weekend. I know there are children buried in every cemetary. The Babies are a daily reminder to me. But it doesn't make it less of a tragedy.
    I had to pull myself from the gloom that threatened. I continued walking, tears stinging my eyes, when I found myself at a familiar grave stone: Tess and Edna. Seeing their familiar names, the wrench and Ford logo, knowing that they lived long, and I like to imagine interesting and fulfilling lives, gave me strength. And cheered my heart. I have decided to research just who these women were, maybe find out who puts the flowers on their graves, and find the meaning behind the wrench and Ford logo. I want to learn about Raymond as well, and several other residents at Zion. Who knows what I will find. Who knows who I will meet.