I haven't read this book for TWENTY YEARS-- not since back when I read it as a good Christian high school girl and it totally BLEW MY MIND.
It's gotten me thinking.
Mmmmhmmmm, about the Beltane fires and how much fun it might be to pretend to be pagan just once because of the heedless sensuous joy of...
okay but about other things too.
To be honest, I missed the point of this book the first time I read it, which makes me want to reread-- well-- everything I ever read before I was 30, because what ELSE did I miss???
#someday #notnow #ladieswholiterature
It's such a rich, melancholy time of year. Tonight is the frenzy of Halloween, which will be fun and also manic, and soon we'll be rolling toward the rollicking vortex of the holidays.
And something in me wants to be so, so quiet.
Where I live, the earth is shedding her leaves, the rains are washing away the summer, and the bones of the trees are beginning to show through.
I love the spring and summer, the ripe abundance of harvest and early fall. If I were in charge, we'd just keep cycling from May to September, with maybe a brief stop in one snowy day for Christmas.
Clearly I am not in charge.
But the truth is, we can't be at fullness all the time. The nature of life is cyclical, and this season is calling me to consider what needs to be released and let go.
When we resist this cycle, we get stuck. We begin to feel over-full, gorged and dull. The fun busy swirl becomes a tornado. Even the good stuff just feels like too much, too loud. We desperately need the release, the turn into the season where things go dormant, underground, and even die.
We have to pass through this part in order for new things to spring forth again.
So tonight I will make merry with my friends, eat too much candy, and dress up like a dryad with my little girl.
But another part of me is pondering, What needs to be let go?
Some things are easy: a stack of papers, old craft projects, last year's raggedy boots. Simple enough to clear those away. Other things require more courage: old habits, internal clutter, emotional baggage.
This inner clearing is not for the faint of heart. (You'll have to call upon your inner epic fucking bad ass.) There may be a sense of loss, sorrow, even grief. Your newly cleared space might feel stark and lonely at first. Everything in our culture tells us to resist this part-- to fill it up, feel better, stir up a little drama or some busy projects to distract yourself.
But that emptiness is where the new things have room to grow.
So keep an ear to the ground, and notice where you feel stuck, blockaded, frustrated. Ask yourself what is ready to be released. Bless it, and let it go. Weep or give it a kiss.
And then go wrap yourself in a sweater and sit by a window for a few minutes.
No, really, just try it. I know you're busy, but try giving yourself the little gift of five minutes of contemplation. It's the season for it.
P.S. Want me to write on a specific topic or answer a question? Send it to firstname.lastname@example.org and it could become the seed for a future episode of rich juicy starry beauty!