Queen of Swords

I'm pondering what looks like it will become a lengthy essay, not just on C&P but on close reading, moralizing, and myth-making.

The oldest version of the story appears in The Golden Ass, and it is nothing like Ashcroft-Nowicki describes it in Your Unseen Power. I'll do a complete breakdown later, probably this weekend, but one of the biggest points of departure is that A-N describes Psyche as "wandering the earth looking for her lost love" and "as she does, she meets and helps [various small creatures] along the way." These small creatures then help her in her trials later.

Nope. The only "helping" she does is to straighten a temple of Ceres -- which earns her the gratitudes of the goddess, but not the help. The various beings who help her later (ants, eagle, river, reeds) do so because she's beautiful and naive and they take pity on her.

She is passive, suicidal, and gives her trust to the wrong people. The only time she takes decisive action is to deliberately orchestrate the deaths of her sisters, who had persuaded her to try to kill her husband.

"Cupid and Psyche" is frequently referred to as an allegory for the purification of the soul through trials until it is ready to stand with the gods. I think they're pushing the story a bit to make this connection. Even at the end, Psyche is not deified because of her own merits but because Cupid is in love with her and he persuades Jove to do him a favor. Personally, I think it reads more like a romantic farce than a spiritual allegory.

I am going to continue studying and reflecting on the story and its variations and see where it takes me, and I still like the idea of the story as a personal meta-story. But it's definitely going to involve some myth-making of my own, not adopting the story as it is.

Last night while meditating (and bless Wolfling for urging me to get up from my desk and go do my practices like I said I needed to!), I was in a wordless place connecting with Divine light (Kether-Tiphareth), and became keenly aware that *this* -- an intimate connection to the Divine -- is what I've always longed for. I have very real frustration, even grief sometimes, about my lack of satisfaction in my career life, but that frustration is accompanied by the awareness that the reason I don't have the kind of career I thought I would is that ultimately I don't really care about those things, and I have refused to go through the motions in order to achieve ends that don't interest me.

So what have I been looking for? I asked myself and the Light.

The answer rose up within me: Truth and ecstasy.

I want to know, to understand, to have wisdom. And I want to live passionately, from my depths, and touch the heights. I want the transcendent, the joyous, the all-consuming.

Committing to a path that involves less than that has always felt like a sin -- although the gods know I've done it often enough.

Note to self: Writing is your most natural form of reflection. If traditional meditation isn't working for you, stop feeling inadequate and try using your dominant skill.

After I wrote the previous entry, I got out my paper journal, asked Ereshkigal for help, and started writing. I figured it would be much easier to stay focused if I was putting words on a page, and I was right.

I discovered that I've been aware since I was 12 years old that my true path lay outside my father's comprehension and ability to actively support. It was a central theme when I was writing my personal mythic saga (that started out simply as extravagant daydreams) at age 12. The fact that I created a code to keep those dreams private only underscored how intensely I was aware that what I most wanted was likely to get me laughed at. (Or so I believed, and I carried that belief with me.)

I have always known that my path is outside of my father's paradigms, even when I wasn't sure what my path was. That was something to stop and think about for a while.

Eventually I became aware of my mental-emotional-spiritual discomfort about this as an object lodged in my heart. I went inside to get a better look, and after a while I discerned it was an arrow with its entire head embedded in my heart.

I asked Ereshkigal to take it away, but She declined. First, I had to be able to explicitly write or say the words about what I wanted to be rid of. Then I had to do it myself. She couldn't just take it from me. I had to actively surrender it, give it up. I grit my teeth and took hold of the arrow. I was about to pull when I realized that it was heavily barbed. If I pulled it out, I'd rip out part of my heart with it.

That realization stunned me, as did the one that came right after it: that my willingness to continue to conform to my father's comfort zone is because of my deep love for him.

Before I could release myself from our jointly-imposed restrictions, I had to come to a conscious awareness that no longer conforming to them did not mean that I didn't love him.

The rush of energy that followed was amazing. Once I got my breath back, I took hold of the arrow and gently pulled it free. It came out easily. I gave it to Ereshkigal, asking Her to recycle the energy it represented, and She accepted it, but She also warned me that this wound is going to take some healing. I've got a very powerful energy pattern and habits of thought built up in this area. I'm going to have to cultivate the new awareness and remind myself of what I learned if I'm going to benefit from it.

I've always felt deep love and respect for my father. I'd been characterizing my reluctance to break out of his paradigm as an inability to free myself from small-town mindsets and a habit of protecting the family name and reputation. It never occurred to me to go deeper than that and understand why my need to protect was so intense. It was love.

It still love my father, but hopefully now it's a wiser love.
I can love my father and still actively pursue my own dreams, even if they are outside his comfort zone.


The next realization was around the archetype of the Empress. Both my father and LM are powerful examples of Emperor energy, and I've been grateful to be upheld and sheltered by that energy. It's time that I stepped up, even beyond the role of Queen, and ascended to Empress. It's time to become a peer. Time to feel comfortable expressing my skill, talent, and potency in the wider world, beyond the confines of my private life.

Sainthood.

It's a loaded word, even for someone like me who has never participated in a tradition which acknowledges saints. And yet it burst into my meditation the other night with strange power as I was reflecting on identity, being, and doing.

I'm usually a stickler for using words with precise meaning whenever possible, but I'm going to ask everyone's indulgence here as I play with the term.

What is a saint?

For me, the first thing that came to mind was a person of "heroic faith" -- someone whose beliefs and their adherence to them are so far beyond what most people are capable of they are ultimate role models.

Beyond that there is an idea of intercession. As I understand it, a saint is someone who, by virtue of their heroic faith, is able to step in and either convince deity to act on behalf of another or perhaps take direct action themselves.

But neither of those concepts is what moved me the other night. Instead, I started thinking of a saint as a person whose life/presence/being is a theophany, a revelation of the divine.

A saint is someone who lives in such deep and constant communion with the divine they become an exceptionally potent channel or marker of Presence, and others can be nurtured, encouraged, uplifted, inspired, given hope simply by being around such a person.

Ultimately, it's not about doing, it's about being. It's not about accomplishing or achieving specific tasks or assignments. It's about living in a connected, open way. I'm certain that from that state of being, doing also happens, and does so in perhaps a remarkable way, but it's not the deeds that are the mark of a saint. It's the divine presence coming through them into the world. Achieving that state may be a result of doing, or it may simply happen by grace, but it's not achieved like a good grade or a project.

I remain convinced that doing is important. Spiritual practices are foundational across all religious traditions for a reason. And we live in a material world where tasks need to be done in order to survive.

But it's a comfort to me to contemplate that place beyond -- or perhaps beside is the better term -- doing that is perhaps even more potent.

In the context of these thoughts, "sainthood" isn't an exalted status conferred on the heroic for above-and-beyond, supernatural spiritual greatness. It's the ability to be so much in communion with the Divine/Spirit that it can't help but flow through the person into the world around them. It can be manifested through doing, but it's more about presence.


None of this is actually a new idea. As I've been typing this, I hear echoes of teachings I've heard from both Christians and Buddhists (and probably others), but it's all striking me in a new way, at this turn of my life when identity and work are central concerns.

How much do I obsess about Doing Things when I could benefit from focusing a bit more on Being With?


This is all still very rough, but it's what's been on my mind these past few days.

I forgot to address one aspect of the trance dancing workshop in yesterday's entry: the mind-body split.

Obviously I like to think. I like to think, to analyze, to use my intellect to be self-aware, to gain understanding. And yes, it's entirely probable that I over-use this aspect of myself to the detriment of other modalities of knowing. But thinking is also one of my gifts and an important part of who I am.

I definitely felt marginalized toward the end of the workshop when the facilitators were praising the experience of "turning off the mind" and processing elsewhere, and not thinking.

In fact, I felt some stabs of hurt and resentment at being told (in so many words) that my way of being was less valuable than other modalities. Intellectually I recognized that getting out of the head is very liberating for many, and yes, that there were things for me to discover by doing so -- but I still wanted them to acknowledge that there could be value in reflecting on the experience with my head also.

As far as I was concerned, in participating in the dancing I had done the no-brain part to the best of my current ability. Now it was time to process the experience and for me that meant thinking, reflecting, grappling with words so I could make sense of it.

That did not stop me from sharing in the circle with words -- and then being told by one of the facilitators how powerful my words were. So that was nice.

I guess I just wished that as I was embracing my own "and" -- mind and body, venturing into the edgy adventure that body movement is for me -- that space had also been given for my area of primary comfort as well.

I don't mean for this to sound like a whine. This was one of several challenging aspects of the evening for me, and it's not a bad thing to have been challenged. If anything it hopefully will make me more open to the way other people need different ways to process than I do.

An acquaintance used the prase "necessary evil" recently, and it got me thinking -- again -- about its implications. The more I think about it, the less I like it.

Is there such a thing as an action that is indeed a "necessary" "evil"?

Is it "necessary" -- or are we suffering from a failure of imagination in being able to come up with other, better alternatives?

Or can we indeed imagine better alternatives, but are prevented from acting on them by outside forces that we can not in that moment overcome? Or by our own internal limitations?

Is the choice we make truly "evil" -- or are we using that word instead of something else?
Is it harsh, painful, unsatisfying, a source of grief?
Do we default to naming something "evil" when what we really mean is "painful from my perspective"?

Are there some situations which are so suffused with evil that there is no choice that is not tainted by it?


I don't have the answers, but I'm curious about other peoples' perspectives.

Being reborn hurts.

Being 'between' hurts.

For all my growth, I remain a Queen of Swords.
For those of my type, ambiguity sucks -- and where I am now is full of ambiguity.

There is continuity with the past, yes -- but the old answers, the old methods do not work.

Even my sexuality seems to be impacted -- and being smacked up against that this afternoon was not a happy or comfortable experience.

I retreated into my practices this evening -- retreated to take refuge in them, rather than pick them up like a heavy duty. That, at least, is a positive change.

I sat in my meditation posture (back against pillows against the headboard of my bed, soles of my feet together, hands loose in my lap) and did four-fold breaths, then relaxed into more natural breathing. I started to frame questions about my emerging identity, about my future.

Immediately I got a crystal clear message in my mind: In the past, your identity was based on what you thought, what was within. Going forward, it will be made from what you do.

( Unpacking the Message )

The funny thing is that I can't be sure who sent those words to me. Usually my inner senses are clear enough that I have some sense of who is addressing me: a deity, a spirit, LM, or my own projection of someone from my life: my father, a teacher, etc. This message didn't seem connected to anyone in particular.

I think, based on some other messages I've been getting lately, that it is most likely my higher self. I've been getting quiet but clear messages lately which have been nudging me into better choices about things like alcohol and doing my practices. It's been very clear that although I don't consciously address myself, it's not an external being nudging me. It's me, my knowing-better self. And that feels like a great step forward.

All those stories did shape who I am. The identity I created for myself was real. But despite some very positive elements, it has proved insufficient to deal with being a full adult in this world. It is insufficient to my vocation. It is insufficient to being a good parent (including the need to provide for my child materially).

This also neatly folds in with the other meditations I've been doing around consciously embracing the more explicitly (to my formulation) masculine power archetypes, in particular the King of Swords and the Emperor. All of my most important work has been inward-focused. It's time to claim the yang energy, the Chokmah energy of the Tree of Life, and start projecting outward.

"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.

[x-posted]


Who Are You?
1:45 from the Babylon-5 episode "Comes the Inquisitor."




It feels very, very strange to be wrestling with this question right now. For most of my life, I have felt very sure that I knew who I was. My sense of identity was composed of both internal and external reference points: my beliefs, my dreams and desires, my family and the roles and expectations that came with it, my achievements and experiences. But the older I've become, and especially over the past two years, the less certain I've felt.

Unemployment has brought this to. . . not exactly a "crisis point" but a pitch of intensity. It's not because I over-identified with my employment as a source of identity and that identity has been lost. It's because I have not been able -- yet -- to manifest something concrete to fill the time that unemployment has given me. It's not even a matter of successful business development, it's the ongoing struggle to fill the hours in a creative, meaningful way.

As I wrote a few days ago, I'm struggling against entropy, and it's frightening to feel as if I have very little internal grounding from which to successfully make that struggle.

If I am who I say I am, who I believe I am, why I am I not being who I say I am? Am I who I thought I was after all? Or am I something -- someone -- else?

Swedenborg said that love without action is meaningless sentiment, and that what we do is the truest reflection of what we truly love. And what we love, especially our "ruling love" is the most telling indicator of who we are at our core.

Even that which I say I love most doesn't seem to be having a meaingful impact on what I do these days.

I haven't been doing much.

Am I so hollow at my core?

Not hollow as in "shallow" or "without feeling", but hollow as in lacking something essential.

I am not without a sense of self, not without love, not without urgings toward meaningful goals. I just seem to lack a center where everything is deeply rooted so it can manifest in a way that is meaningful.

I'm working on this. It's a strange sensation to realize that I'm not sure what I'm going to find, what I'm going to be when it's over. I can't imagine that it would so much different from what I think I am, what I want to be. . . but maybe I'll be surprised.

x-posted


I was struggling with an emotional issue earlier this morning, and had the following insights:

1. Whatever problem or pain I'm facing, feeling like I don't understand makes it even more painful. The hurtful thing itself is layered over by stress and frustration about my lack of understanding, which often contains seeds of guilt or a sense of failure. I tend to flay myself with thoughts like If I could just understand, this wouldn't be a problem!

2. The quickest way to undercut my pride, my independence, my self of personal responsibility, is to make me believe that someone nearby understands the situation, the task, the concept, better than I do. I will turn to that person instinctively, seeking the information and understanding I lack, looking to them for leadership based on their understanding (or my perception of it). Sometimes this is a perfectly appropriate act; sometimes it is not, as my priestess teacher keeps trying to get me to understand when I ask her to tell me things I'm supposed to be figuring out by myself.

The converse is also true. Nothing is a stronger prompt to me to step up and assert myself than the belief that I understand more or better than the others present. I try to have a sense of humility when processing these perceptions. . .

Both of these insights are consistent with my Enneagram type, which is Five. The "holy idea" of the 5 is "I will understand."

This tendency toward self-affliction when I do not believe I understand certainly undermines my entrepreneurial efforts. If my sense of self-worth, my sense of confidence, my sense of fitness to lead, are strongly grounded in my sense of how well I understand what the situation is, what needs to be done, what is appropriate and called for, then going into new territory puts me at a significant handicap, one I don't yet understand how to deal with or mitigate. This, of course, triggers a cascade of self-doubt.

Friends who use Tarot may rightly suggest that the energy of the Fool card would be appropriate to this issue -- but really looking at that card with the intention of applying to my situation makes me feel like breaking out in hives.

Mentoring is probably the best solution, it suddenly occurs to me. I've been reluctant to reach out, not wanting to bother others. . . but I've also had a couple of people come to my attention recently who could be helpful in at least giving me a sense of orientation to the territory.

As far as my spiritual work goes. . . This is probably something to bring to my vigil next week. . .