Looking askance

Samain and the Holiseason Moon

©willworthingtonart

Monday gratefuls: Stevinson Toyota. Ruby. The Clouds. The Continental Divide. Snow covered. Beautiful. Brook Forest Drive and Black Mountain Drive. Different and intriguing each time I drive them. Moving the snow tires into Ruby this AM. Glad I can do it. Joe and Seoah on Zoom last night. Murdoch, too.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Seoah’s citizenship application

Tarot: Queen of Arrows, Wildwood Tarot

 

charon and psyche John Spencer

The Queen of Arrows reminds me. Grief. Not finished. Not now. Not ever. Kate, always Kate. “A state of separation may exist, bringing with it sorrow.” Oh, yes. It also reminds me of the dark beauty in grief. Its capacity to take us places we’d rather not go, but need to anyhow. Grief is an intimate experience with the Black Swan of loss.

The place grief has taken me. Is that Swan on the River Styx? Is Charon’s barge floating beyond our sight? The aesthetics we find when our heart weeps.

Now eight months gone since Kate died. My heart has begun to peek above the catafalque, look for joy and purpose. Life changes. No option. Different now.

What, my soul wonders, comes next? How do I find out? How does new life emerge from the chrysalis of mourning? Slowly, I think. Haltingly, I’m sure. Perhaps too carefully.

To find my way forward I’ve gone backwards, finding old tools, making current use of them. INTP. 5 with a 4 wing. Tarot spreads and natal charts. Considering the mystery Kabbalah finds in our universe. Remembering the garden spider’s web.

Extending the ways of the Colorado past seem easy, easiest. But in reality. No. Neither the Colorado nor Minnesota nor Indiana me. No.

This is fourth phase me. Stateless. Wifeless. Faithless. Heart full though with memories. Searching. What might work now? Fishing? No. Gardening? No. Beekeeping? No. Docent? Sierra Club? No. Travel. To an extent. Study. Of course. Writing and painting. I hope so.

Unsure still. Hermit. Has something to offer. Hermitage. Definitely. Cooking seems to have possibilities. With that new kitchen. With CBE meals for others. With Jon, Ruth, Gabe. Needing better nourishment for myself.

There is a web, yes, like that web. Its strands reach across the Pacific to Hickam Air Force Base. Over to the far north in Maine, back to the Twin Cities. Down the hill to Evergreen and CBE. Across the Denver metro to Aurora with Jon, Ruth, Gabe. To the furry heads of Kepler, Rigel, and Murdoch. Eau Claire. D.C. Other, finer threads connect old friends from college, from Alexandria.

Holidays and birthdays. More and more important. Staying strong.

As I drove down the hill, I felt it. That new life. It was not glorious; it was ordinary. Taking care of Ruby. Changing her shoes to her winter boots. Changing the oil, having an inspection of her important bits like brakes and differential. This is not for us anymore. Now it’s for me. Oh, that felt odd. True. Yes. Invigorating. On my own. Doing the necessary things.

Quick came: The induction stove. The solar panels. The mini-splits. Glasgow. Climate conference. Climate change. What I can do at home. Most of it done. An electric vehicle. That’s the next, but most expensive, step.

Instead of waiting for Godot, I’m waiting for gestalt. It came, part way, in that experience. This may be one of those changes where peripheral vision suits the task better than looking straight on. What is my body doing? What does it want? Oh, did I light up at that moment? What lies beyond my old way of doing politics, but remains linked.

 

 

 

 

 

This entry was posted in Art and Culture, Dogs, Fourth Phase, Kabbalah, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Tarot. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.