Queen of Swords

I have been learning quite a bit about myself over the past few weeks: how much I still need the challenge of intellectual pursuits, how much BDSM nurtures me even in the absence of a romantic partner, how my priestessing can work, where I still need to grow in terms of handling conflict with others. . . .

Two or more years ago, while shopping for Winter Solstice gifts for my teacher, I found a beautiful dragon pendant: silver curls with amber insets. It was expensive enough that I would not have bought it for myself, but I thought she would like it. But when I was assembling her gifts to send, it just didn't seem to fit. I took a chance on spoiling a surprise, called her, and asked if it sounded like something she would like. She said, essentially, "Thank you, but no -- not my style."

That pendant has sat on my dresser ever since. Until yesterday. And today. My dragon is rising. Rising in response to the intellectual challenge of graduate school. Rising in response to Odin's presence in my life. Rising in response to putting my body on the line in BDSM scenes. Rising in response to being called beautiful and hot and desireable. Rising in response to facilitating a public sacred sexuality group. Rising in response to daily spiritual practice which I created. Rising in response to reconnecting in new ways with some of my fundamental archetypes and mythic meta-story. Rising, rising, rising. . .





"A New Beginning" by Katerina Romanova

Many years ago, I slipped in a movie theater and went down, crashing my ribs against a wooden arm rest as I fell. Although I was able to stand up and walk out under my own power, I was in terrible pain that night and went to urgent care the next day. There the doctor explained to me that in a situation where the body receives a painful shock like that, the muscles will remain clenched, prolonging and intensifying the pain. Rather than medicating me, he gave me my first chiropractic adjustment, which released the muscles and gave me relief.

I tell the story as background to a realization I had (again) today about my own emotional-spiritual state: that I have been in so much pain the last three years that even now when I no longer am "grieving" both my psyche and my body are still clenched.

I started a book today called "Your Heart's Desire", which surfaced synchronously with a visit to a possible new spiritual director. When I finished reading the introduction, which seemed sincerely enthusiastic and heartfelt, I was confused by how resistant I felt. I put the book down and paid more attention to my internal state and realized that some part of me was shouting No! No! No! No!

Doing what this book suggested was hopefully going to open me to new energy, new possbility, increased joy and satisfaction in my life -- which terrified the part of me that's curled up and clenched and afraid of further pain. In fact, just the thought of un-clenching seemed like it would cause even more pain because everything has rusted into a defensive, almost semi-fetal state.

It was sobering, a bit scary. . . And it reinforced my growing sense that I need to spend more time being gently positive and self-nurturing with myself instead of focusing on challenges and projects and demand a lot of dynamic effort to accomplish. I do want to do those things, but I'm beginning to realize that I continue to need a certain amount of convalescence as I transition out of grieving.

Some days even the thought of pleasure brings back the grief, because I still connect pleasure and happiness so much with LM, want him with me to share it or have intense memories come up, or feel his absence more keenly -- or all of the above. It's a terrible paradox that even good things can hurt right now.

I sometimes feel like the Tin Woodman: rusted and stiff, my chest hollow. . . I wish I could afford weekly massages, which I'm sure would help on multiple levels. Some of it will just involve being mindful of what I ask and expect of myself, and a lot of it will involve being mindful of when I slip into self-numbing behavior instead of facing the chronic pain and addressing it directly with authentic nurture -- no matter how much some part of me fears what will happen if I un-clench. . .

I had a really good conversation with my teacher last night, focused on the issues I've been working on around life energy and balance.

One of the things we talked about was the probability that I need to be getting outside more. I've noticed that when I go out for a walk during my breaks at work the benefit to my energy and mood feels significantly out of proportion (in a positive way) to the time and effort I expend in walking around the parking lot -- or even just back and forth on the breezeway a few times. Obviously getting out and moving in the fresh air is part of basic health and wellness -- but it's entirely possible that it has extra importance for someone on an underworld path whose personal energy has become tightly woven with both an underworld deity and a spirit partner.

I also need to get back to the Nia dance fitness class and the gentle, joyous, invigorating movement it involves.

Finally, although I didn't really discuss it with my teacher, I've been becoming increasingly aware of the need to be honest with myself about the degree to which my low energy and depression are impacted by my eating habits and lack of exercise. Last spring I started out on SparkPeople.com to improve my eating and fitness habits, and it was great -- and then a knee injury sidelined me and I never quite recovered. I'm currently back in the vicious cycle of not eating well because I come home tired, and therefore not taking the time to make something healthy to eat. Also, I need to drink more water during the day at work and take my vitamins regularly.

"Integration" is a big theme for me right now, as is "mindfulness." One of the tasks that's been in the back of my mind for a while is that of mapping out just what being a priestess means to me on a day-by-day basis.

The following is what I have so far. As always, it is subject to revision and not intended to be prescriptive for anyone else.

The heart of being a priestess is my relationship with my gods. Everything centers there; everything else grows from there. As with human beings, nurturing a divine relationship involves time, caring, and two-way communication. My spiritual relationships are nurtured by prayer (spiritual-speak for "conversation"), worship, journeying, meditation, and daily connection rituals.

The disciplines of magical practice, energy work and meditation are the tools of personal refinement. They make me more effective in serving the will of the gods, on this plane as well as others. Without the skill and knowledge to act on them meaningfully, good intentions are nothing more than warm, fuzzy feelings and only count for so much.

Ideally, the combination of relationship and refinement result in a heart and mind that are capable of experiencing and expressing deeper love and compassion, fairness, generosity, calmness, and joy -- and the will and capacity to express and act on them in meaningful ways. My own performance in this area is spotty, but I remain convinced by Emanuel Swedenborg and my friend lovetakesyouin that unless the spiritual life results in meaningful acts of love and service, it falls short of its purpose. What these acts are is between an individual and their gods. We all serve in different ways. The point is that my spiritual life should ultimately be about more than just my own personal development and well-being.

I also remain convinced that my physical health and well-being are -- or should be -- part of my priestess work. If I'm too tired or in poor condition, my ability to engage in relationship, to maintain my disciplines, and to be of use to someone other than myself is compromised. Similarly, keeping my hearth in order gives me a peaceful, energetically clean space in which it is easier to focus and be productive.

For me personally, everything else emerges out of this foundation. I want my priestess life to also include teaching and spiritual direction with others, magical and temple work, observing holidays with my daughter and other friends, and etc. But without the fundamentals, the rest isn't going to happen -- or if it does, it will fall short of what I'm truly capable of.

It's been a very long week.
I almost cancelled my ballroom dance class, but went and had a good time.
As soon as I got home I changed into my comfy clothes and did my evening practices, sure that if I waited until the usual time I'd be in no state to do them properly.

I was barely in a state to do them properly as it was, but I did them. I now have leftover pizza, a drink, my computer, and a book -- and the freedom to go to bed as early as I want to and sleep in as long as I need to tomorrow.

A recurring theme in my primary journal over the past few years has been my struggle to do better with the "pentacles" aspects of my life: nutrition and exercise, domestic stuff, my job, my vocation, finances. All my life, I've lived as much in my head as possible -- with sexuality being the one great exception.

My spirituality has followed this pattern, being primarily intellectual and mystical. I had a fraught relationship with ritual, felt no need to work with the traditional magic tools, and didn't have the love affair with nature that most Pagans seem to have. Again, sexuality was the exception here, and for years I longed for a partner with whom I could authentically blend sex and spirit.

Shortly after The Biopsy Crisis I started seeing a therapist to help me work through the stuck places that were at the root of my pain. This week, we spent a lot of time on my physical issues, and I told her that while intellectually I know and understand the connection between body-mind-spirit, and I'm aware of the importance of physical disciplines to a range of spiritual paths, and I know that any kind of body movement can have a sacred element, I have almost never been able to experience my own physicality as part of my spirituality -- again, with the exception sex.

I also had to explain that for most of my life I've ignored my body as much as possible. This seemed to boggle her a bit, but she's a fitness trainer as well as a counselor, so I suspect that all these things that are so challenging for me are natural to her.

She got out my intake questionnaire and scanned it, looking for help. There wasn't much. None of the 10 things I listed as the most important things in my life could be directly connected to physical health, nutrition, and/or fitness. There are no activities involving movement that particularly appeal to me. None of her usual angles of motivation helped. I recognized each one, acknowledged it, and pretty much said "I know. But that doesn't mean much to me." There's no "juice" there.

The only thing that comes close is this thought from a few weeks ago: Whatever the reason might have been, I am living an incarnated life. I have a body. I would be short-changing myself in the experience of this life if I ignore or neglect the vehicle of my incarnation.

But even that isn't particularly motivating for me.

So I'm doing some pondering around how I can connect spirit and flesh in my daily life and find types of movement that I actively enjoy. Yoga and belly dance seem the best bets. . . but it still takes an effort of will to actually do them.

There are just so many more engaging and important things to do. . .

And yes, I know that my physical health and fitness are important. But in the limited time of a day, it seems like so many other things are more immediately and urgently important. That's the problem in a nutshell.

I haven't written about this publically, but on Monday I had a follow-up mammogram ("retakes to get a better photo," I joked). The second mammogram was followed in quick succession by an ultrasound and a biopsy. I've been waiting since Monday afternoon for the results, and the contemplation of the possibility of facing breast cancer has triggered some intensely important realizations.

Chief among those realizations was that I felt far more dread at the thought of spending several more years working in my day job than I did dying from cancer. Yes, that's right: continuing my day job was, for me, "a fate worse than death."

Granted, death is far less fearful for me than it is for many (see my entry of a few minute ago), but talk about getting A Wake Up Call. Among other things, I'm now actively looking for a therapist who can help me work through whatever psychological issues continue to hold me back from making the significant changes in my professional life that I've been talking about and making unsuccessful or abortive attempts at for the past several years.

The lab just called to tell me that the spot they biopsied was benign.

That's good news, and I'm grateful.

But it's clear that I have other "health" issues in my life that need to be addressed as vigorously as cancer would have been.