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The Voice and the Void
Monday during lunch I finally started reading Evolutionary Witchcraft by T Thorn Coyle (aka ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
yezida), someone I learned about from queenofhalves. It's been a very long time since I've identified as a witch, but queenofhalves's accounts of the focus on personal growth and development, and her own experiences with it, have impressed me. And, frankly, I've been looking for a spark to inspire me.
I certainly got what I was looking for. The Introduction alone, an account of Thorn's spiritual questing, heartened me. She has found a place now, and made it her own through depth work and bringing her own sensibilities to it, but for more than 20 years she was a wanderer, looking for "it" in a variety of traditions as she herself grew and matured.
Like me, she does not cast a circle for ritual work, she casts a sphere. I enjoyed reading her process, but when I got to the poem she uses to seal the sphere I felt resistance. The words were nice, but they certainly were not words with which I resonated.
Then it hit me: I didn't have to use her words. They were an example. I can use my own. In fact, the whole ritual she presented was for instruction and inspiration. I could take what I needed and leave the rest, and it would be okay.
For a Queen of Swords, who likes to know what is correct so I can be right, this is a huge step in maturity and confidence.
After I was finished reading, I put the book down, rested my elbows on the counter, clasped my hands, and put my forehead on my knuckles. And I reached out.
I guess I'm actually past being surprised when the response comes quickly. But this time there was an uncharacteristic chiding in the Voice: Why do you search when all your life I have been closer than your breath?
I cast back over my life, remembering all the years of intimacy with Spirit -- whether I was calling it God, Goddess, Beloved, or even Yearning. And while I might have, at other times, understood intellectually that All were One, sitting there at the lunch counter I felt it in my gut: that whether I communed with Christ, Inanna, or anyone else, it was the One with whom I spoke, and whose love and support upheld me.
I could feel Spirit as an ever-flowing stream through my life in a way I hadn't before.
But even as I realized that, I reached for a single image/name to hold on to, starting with the Christ who was my friend and companion for so many years. But even as I reached for an image, I saw every one of them fracture and melt -- a typical experience.
And the Voice said, Why do you try to force or cling to a particular image and name when the essence of your spirituality is the Void, where names don't matter?
I can't express much more than that, except that it hit me right in my gut and filled a place of longing. My adult spirituality was born in the Void. I am an apophatic mystic: I find the Divine in darkness, in the not-like, in Mystery. It can be lonely sometimes, but that's where my path has led: into the vital, nurturing darkness.
The Voice has spoken to me through many masks over the years, shared truth in a variety of accents, illuminated me with light through various facets of the prism, but it's always been the same Voice. It has always called me to love, to courage, to truth and honesty.
That evening I had a good conversation with my guide, but there's no time to write about that just now.
yezida), someone I learned about from queenofhalves. It's been a very long time since I've identified as a witch, but queenofhalves's accounts of the focus on personal growth and development, and her own experiences with it, have impressed me. And, frankly, I've been looking for a spark to inspire me.I certainly got what I was looking for. The Introduction alone, an account of Thorn's spiritual questing, heartened me. She has found a place now, and made it her own through depth work and bringing her own sensibilities to it, but for more than 20 years she was a wanderer, looking for "it" in a variety of traditions as she herself grew and matured.
Like me, she does not cast a circle for ritual work, she casts a sphere. I enjoyed reading her process, but when I got to the poem she uses to seal the sphere I felt resistance. The words were nice, but they certainly were not words with which I resonated.
Then it hit me: I didn't have to use her words. They were an example. I can use my own. In fact, the whole ritual she presented was for instruction and inspiration. I could take what I needed and leave the rest, and it would be okay.
For a Queen of Swords, who likes to know what is correct so I can be right, this is a huge step in maturity and confidence.
After I was finished reading, I put the book down, rested my elbows on the counter, clasped my hands, and put my forehead on my knuckles. And I reached out.
I guess I'm actually past being surprised when the response comes quickly. But this time there was an uncharacteristic chiding in the Voice: Why do you search when all your life I have been closer than your breath?
I cast back over my life, remembering all the years of intimacy with Spirit -- whether I was calling it God, Goddess, Beloved, or even Yearning. And while I might have, at other times, understood intellectually that All were One, sitting there at the lunch counter I felt it in my gut: that whether I communed with Christ, Inanna, or anyone else, it was the One with whom I spoke, and whose love and support upheld me.
I could feel Spirit as an ever-flowing stream through my life in a way I hadn't before.
But even as I realized that, I reached for a single image/name to hold on to, starting with the Christ who was my friend and companion for so many years. But even as I reached for an image, I saw every one of them fracture and melt -- a typical experience.
And the Voice said, Why do you try to force or cling to a particular image and name when the essence of your spirituality is the Void, where names don't matter?
I can't express much more than that, except that it hit me right in my gut and filled a place of longing. My adult spirituality was born in the Void. I am an apophatic mystic: I find the Divine in darkness, in the not-like, in Mystery. It can be lonely sometimes, but that's where my path has led: into the vital, nurturing darkness.
The Voice has spoken to me through many masks over the years, shared truth in a variety of accents, illuminated me with light through various facets of the prism, but it's always been the same Voice. It has always called me to love, to courage, to truth and honesty.
That evening I had a good conversation with my guide, but there's no time to write about that just now.
no subject
During my Grail studies, an essay writer pointed out that the Grail romances were written at a time when the Host was present in every church, all the time. And yet there was this deep urge to go out into the Forest Adventurous, face the monsters, and achieve the Grail -- Divine Union -- that way.
There are some who will never find our spiritual home within four walls. I realized years ago that while I can visit there, I can't remain long.
The Hermit is a key archetype for me as well -- especially the part of holding up the lamp and being available to other seekers. But my own path is a matter between myself and the Divine.
Are you available for tea sometime in the next couple of weeks? I'd love to get together outside of game. Maybe sometime during the weekend of the 16th-17th?
no subject