Queen of Swords

My decision to take the retreat which I posted about yesterday is part of a sudden burst of energy to start practicing a higher level of self-care. 

I realized within the last day or two that I am suffering even more than I had realized from lack of touch. The only touch I get is when my adult daughter comes over and we snuggle on the couch while we read or watch tv together. It's lovely, and I'm grateful my daughter still wants that, but it's not the same as adult companion touch, even non-sexual.

I've also realized that I really, really want to be pampered and soak up the attention along with the touch. I am so depleted I don't feel capable of equal sharing. It's probably one reason my erotic energy is so low: I don't feel like I have any resources from which to give.

And it's challenging and complicated to get non-sexual touch as an adult. Seattle has cuddle parties, but I don't feel like going to an event like that. I Googled "sensual massage" and everything that comes up is advertisements by sex workers for male clients. I wish our culture allowed sexual and sensual services to be open and regulated, and that more were available for women.

So. . .  I tried other google combinations and ended up finding a male massage therapist whose website indicates a very thoughtful approach and training in energy work. I have an appointment with him tomorrow. I have a female friend (originally made on LJ) who is a massage therapist, and I'm in the process of scheduling a housecall from her. AND I reached out on FetLife to a single guy I've known for several years, who is a couple of decades younger than I am, who I saw was a member of a couple of cuddle groups. I invited him to an evening of non-sexual cuddling and movies ("Netflix and chill" in the current parlance -- but actually chilling) -- and he's responded enthusiastically, and told me he was honored that I would reach out to him. 

[I just realized that I'm having someone come over this Sunday morning and take away my much-loved (and slightly famous) purple comfy couch. It's over 15 years old and has become very worn. The fabric has pulled away from the back of the seat. The arms are sagging (from when Wolfling kept standing on them, despite my ongoing orders not to). I have a new couch coming next week, and need to make room for it. So no couch cuddling at my place for at least another week or so.]

It feels good to name and act on my needs like this. I've always thought I did a good job at self care, but the quality of that self care has declined a lot over the years. I have needed to move from self-numbing to actual pleasure and authentic relaxation. It's taken a long time discern what that looks like at this stage of my life.

Of course I really miss L&L's presences. LB was particularly good at massages with energy components. I've never known anyone better. LM (Lohain) was good, but didn't have that same talent. LM was good for deeply grounded relaxing-into-his-arms and feeling sheltered from the world. 

I realize that I haven't felt sheltered or protected since his death.
No wonder I feel so depleted.

During my morning ritual with Lohain, I found myself focused on his King aspect -- and sent a heartfelt wish that I could simply relax into his power and let him take the lead and shoulder the responsibilities that go with it.

He kissed my forehead and said gently, "A queen doesn't have that luxury."

He's right, of course.

Onward and upward. . .

One of the recent official posts from LJ News talked about "Memorial Status" for blogs whose owners have died. Memorial status prevents them from being purged from lack of use, prevents further entries from being made, but allows comments to be left on entries.

I'd been concerned that uncrowned_king's journal would get purged if I didn't log in every so often, so I wrote in and requested that it be placed in Memorial Status. I got the message late yesterday that they had done so.

It feels appropriate to be doing this now, as I achieve closure and new beginnings. . .

I love you. I love the way you rub the scar on the back of your hand when you're nervous. I love the way you make a sword into a living part of your body. I love the way you burn your eyes into me, as if you're seeing me fresh every time. I love the black streak in you that wants to kill the world, and the soft streak that is sorry afterward. I love the way you laugh, as if you're surprised that you can laugh at all. I love the way you kiss my breath away. I love the way you breathe and speak and smile. I love the way you take the air out of my lungs when you hold me. I love the way you make a dance out of death. I love the confusion I see in your eyes when you realize you are happy. I love every muscle and bone in your body, every twist and bend in your soul.

- from Mistress of Rome, by Kate Quinn

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No one is going to be surprised by my response to this. . .



I believe in the concept of a soulmate because of my experiences with uncrowned_king. I have no idea if everyone has a soulmate or not; I only know that I do.

Prior to Lohain, I did not believe in soulmates. Instead I focused on the wonderful richness of having intense and meaningful love relationships with a variety of different people. I was polyamorous and happy with it (once I figured out what polyamory was!).

Being with Lohain changed that. I never made a conscious decision to stop being polyamorous -- and maybe other things might have turned out to be less painful if I'd had that self-awareness. Instead, over time, without fully being aware of it, I turned more and more to him because what I shared with him was simply 'more' than even the wonderful things I was experiencing with LB.

Even now, more than two and a half years after his death, having pretty much come through my grieving process, I have a hard time imagining love, romance or sexual intimacy with anyone else -- even though sometimes I long for it more than I can say.

Because of what I experienced with uncrowned_king, I have a hard time imagining that one's soulmate "gets away." Part of what was so extrordinary with him was the mutuality of it. The only way I can imagine someone being able to walk away from that would be if they were already married or in some other way bound by a lifelong oath and were not free to fully engage in the relationship.

[x-posted]

This afternoon I was reading the chapter on Purification in War and the Soul, and it suddenly started triggering insights and ideas. I'm going to skip explaining the context and just focus on what it brought up for me.

Despite all the work that I've done to heal from my grief over the past two years, I've never formally, ritually done anything to 'observe' Lohain's death besides the brief but potent memorial the day after his passing. I've never done anything to ritually reconcile myself to his death and the permanence of it. Frankly, I don't think I could have endured the pain of that admission until recently.

I don't like using words like "taint" or "pollution" -- but ancient and tribal cultures believed that being around the dead, involved with death, left their mark on the soul, and some of what was left on the soul needed to be cleansed, for a variety of reasons relating to the soul health of the individual and the community.

I feel like I've finally reached the place where I am ready to purify myself of the leavings of Lohain's death. . . letting the grave shrouds and the scabs be washed away.

I want to take a ritual bath and dress in a new white robe. I want there to be white candles and incense and multi-colored roses. I want to lay my husband to rest out of this life, while celebrating the life that goes on. I want to formally, ritually accept that he is dead and that my life goes on. I want to ritually celebrate a marriage with him that accepts and celebrates the fact that our union crosses the boundaries of flesh and spirit, instead of simply mourning for what I can no longer enjoy in this life.

This kind of thinking is not normal for me. Usually I simply analyze everything into the ground or have flashes or insight or sudden experience. It's very rare for me to yearn for a ritual observance of this degree of intention and formality.

I think it's going to come after my vigil next week. The vigil will affirm the depths to which his death has taken me, my connection with Ereshkigal, the path I'm all -- all the positive qualities of darkness and the underworld which I embrace and affirm. And when the dawn comes, I'll observe this ceremony, a purification and rebirth.


I think this is part of what I was moving toward with the re-naming of this journal. . . But in ways I can't put into words. . . Maybe that Autumn is the inevitable aftermath of a Summer that can never return. We can only move on to new cycles, and if we can not reconcile ourselves to our losses, then we cripple ourselves.

There is a lot of music that I usually enjoy listening to when I drive that is simply inappropriate for long winding roads through forests and next to the ocean.

I love the scents of the coastline.

Lohain *loved* some of the forest I drove through this morning.

I have decided that one of the modern exemplars of "hospitality" is a business restroom *not* labeled "for customers only."

I will be happy to be home, but will miss these roads.

Gold dragons.

Two years ago, uncrowned_king died in my arms.

He died peacefully. He died bravely. He died surrounded by love.

His death released him from a body that was a prison.
His death released him to regain the wholeness of his self.

His death tore apart my heart and soul and made something new of me.

It is not an initiation either of us sought. But since there was no escaping the ravens who came for him, we strive to do the best we can with the knife-edged gifts we were given.


Parted from me and never parted.
Never and always touching and touched.

The slow passing of the days since his death ease my pain, begin to blur the memories, and bring me steadily closer to our reunion. Between here and there, between now and what is to come, there is much for me to do. Most days I still wish on some level for that time to be short, but I no longer resent my life. I owe myself and my daughter and him and the world the best of what I have to give, the best I can be.



I believe this will be my last formal grieving post. Not because I no longer care, but because I do continue to move forward. My thanks and blessings to all my friends here who have been patient and supportive during this time. Your kindness and compassion have meant more to me than you can ever know.




And yes. . . I am crying.

Two weeks from today it will be the second anniversary of Lohain's death. A week or so after that it will be the third anniversary of our first meeting, our first kiss.

It would not be an understatement to say that my life was utterly transformed by each of those events, and that where I am now would be almost inconceivable without having gone through both of them.

My grief continues its gradual, meandering journey of healing. It's a process, not a specific point one reaches. Today I marked a new milestone in that journey: I created a playlist for him/us that is all happy songs -- 45 of them (okay, 42 and three quotes). That would have been impossible a year ago at this time. Even six months ago I needed to have the acknowledgement of the loss and a voice for my pain. Now, I'm leaving that pain behind most of the time. (I don't think it will ever entirely go away.)

Releasing the pain does not mean releasing him. I didn't understand that when I was in the earliest stages of starting to feel better. It felt then as if not hurting as much would mean that he was less important to me. It turns out that the pain is its own thing. My connection with Lohain is separate. The diminishment of the pain does not mean the loss of the connection. If I were a different person, with a different spirituality and need to release the relationship in order to "move on with my life" perhaps it would be different.

Instead, the freedom from pain means that I can concentrate more clearly on my spiritual path and the ongoing connection with him through spirit, instead of having the work make me even more intensely aware of the separation.

I could have sworn I'd moved everything in the bottom of my closet, but I just found it after almost emptying the entire thing. I'd taken out a box, and when I came back in it was lying there in plain sight.

I swear, this makes the whole move worthwhile!