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Saturday's New Moon marked the beginning of my Temple of the Twelve studies. For the next month, I'll be focusing on the essence of Black and attempting to answer for myself the questions in the experiential journal about my self-identity, talents, and true self. Earlier in the week, I went on a scavenger hunt through my home to find black items that would be suitable for a black altar and for use through the month. My rummaging turned up a black pillar candle, a clear glass candle plate that will serve throughout the year, a flat sheet of specular hematite, a fragile spar of black tourmaline, and a marble of blue goldstone/sunstone so dark as to appear black. In my jewelry box, a few Glamourkins jumped out as being black-mystery sorts of messages and I rediscovered a faceted jet and silver ring that I'd bought some time ago and forgotten.
There is compassion in Black.
I was called, last minute, to volunteer Saturday at the local homeless shelter. I've not volunteered with them before, only contributed each year to their Christmas Basket sponsor-a-family program. I'd heard the Goddess, the day before, telling me there was compassion in Black, and so despite plenty of reasons to say "no", I said "yes". For six hours, I got to sit and talk with families in really dire straits. It was my job to fill out their Christmas Basket paperwork, sketch a short biography for potential sponsors to read, and to press each family member for their holiday wish lists. I was in my element. Six hours without pause, face after face across the table, and I didn't want it to end. Ever.
In Novice of Colors, the first Temple of the Twelve book, a young girl enters into religious instruction at the Temple. The first Color to visit her is Lady Black and the first task set before her is to use her talent for drawing to sketch a true portrait of herself, her soul, her energy inside-and-out. She can hide no part of herself as Black sees all we obscure in the dark of ourselves. Caroline has the talent, every bit of that necessary talent and insight to complete the portrait, and yet she spends most of that allotted month feeling inadequate, scared she'll fail, disappoint, be asked to leave before she's ever really begun. She has drive and passion and the certain knowledge that she is exactly where she most yearns to be in life and yet she can't quite commit to seizing her talent and using it for something so sacred.
I share Caroline's certainty and her uncertainty. I know who I am. I am comfortable in my own skin. I am unshakeably committed to my own vision, morals, and Path. Yet, I also battle almost debilitating self-criticism at times. I've married the most intelligent, successful, driven, reliable person I've ever met in my life and can't help but feel diminished in comparison. I am surrounded by people working amazing jobs and I don't have one. I am almost embarrassed to tell people what I studied in college as it seems to have no worth. I have an outrageously, outwardly, undeniably talented group of friends, family, and acquaintances. What do I contribute? How am I important? Am I good at anything? My life is half over and yet I still don't feel like I've even begun. It is the hurdle to my own engagement, that fear that I don't measure up.
~*~
Last month, I got a one draw reading from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stonetalker, an expert at crystal and mineral stone divination practices. The stone drawn was my stone, rose quartz, and that was comforting enough of an affirmation. (I'd asked, in the reading, for a sign of what I was supposed to be doing with my life, how to serve actively through it.)
Her interpretation of the stone, in light of my questions, was this:
"Be Here Now." Be fully in the moment. Life is what is happening to us while we are busy making plans. You are who you are, where you are, how you are, doing what you are, for a divine reason. Rather than seeking how to make it work, just kick off your shoes and enjoy the ride. It is all perfect as it is; now find the divine love in it.
Maybe, like Caroline, my uncertainties are part of the learning process. Maybe, just maybe, I can cut myself a little slack and stop apologizing for the things I'm not good at. I wouldn't even know where to begin in that process, though.
~*~
So back to my work at the shelter. I called the next number and an elderly man happily took the chair across from mine. He said, "I hoped I'd get you. This whole time, I'm watching you and you were smiling. Not one of them pasty-faced fake smiles but a real, genuine smile. I can tell you're genuine, smiling and kind like that."
I said, laughing, "Well, sir, I'm actually pretty pasty-faced, but my smile's the real thing. There's nowhere I'd rather be than right here with you."
That's about when it hit me--I am talented. Yeah, I can sing and yeah, I can type and yeah, I can read. Those aren't my biggest talents, though. I *am* kind. I *am* helpful. I *am* genuine. I *am* patient. I *am* empathetic. I *am* compassionate. I'm good at communicating with people, making them feel heard and respected, and I'm good at putting people at ease. I love humanity, I love people. I'm good at making strangers feel like friends and I'm damned good at being positive and pleasant and supportive and calm in the darkest of times. I was the perfect person to be sitting there that day and it had everything to do with my talents and my true self. I didn't even know things like that could be considered talents and yet they are, undoubtably, mine. My table wasn't business-as-usual. The families I met with and helped, we laughed and cried (and sometimes both at once). Elderly men preened and flirted with me and fussy children played with the contents of my purse, my pockets, my jewelry. Women held my arm and patted my shoulder and shook my hand when the forms were filled out. They told me things that were precious to them, little perfect secrets and confessions. One was sober exactly seven years, another daydreamed about going back to school to be a nurse, others didn't know how they'd afford their next meal or keep their teenaged sons out of the gangs. We shared sacred space. They allowed themselves to be charmed into making wishes after arriving unable to articulate anything like a personal wish or request. They were eager to talk, sometimes startled by the courtesy, the eye contact, the patient listening. I used my talents and it changed everything around me, everything within me. I just can't tell you what it was like working there. Fulfilling, heartbreaking, magickal, energizing, empowering, humbling, just one teaching moment after another.
~*~
I hate being volunteered for things. Many are the times I've had someone corner me and say, "Hey! You'd be perfect to do this!" and I've felt pressured into lettering car wash signs or babysitting unruly children or applying for a job I didn't even want. What other people view as my talents aren't always accurate. Lady Black asks what our talents are and how we're using them in the world. I finally understand that I can only volunteer myself. I must be brave enough to step forward into the void and say, "I am good at that and I am ready to help." Drive, passion, and purpose aren't enough. I need to reach into the dark and acknowledge all the ways I'm powerful and worthy and yes, talented, in this world.
In Part Two, I'll finally get around to telling you about my Black New Moon ritual and the many more insights and ah-ha moments I've already gotten only three days into my work with the Temple. :) That, though, will have to wait for a later date as I've got a toddler in need of some entertainment and a good jog around the neighborhood with me. :)
There is compassion in Black.
I was called, last minute, to volunteer Saturday at the local homeless shelter. I've not volunteered with them before, only contributed each year to their Christmas Basket sponsor-a-family program. I'd heard the Goddess, the day before, telling me there was compassion in Black, and so despite plenty of reasons to say "no", I said "yes". For six hours, I got to sit and talk with families in really dire straits. It was my job to fill out their Christmas Basket paperwork, sketch a short biography for potential sponsors to read, and to press each family member for their holiday wish lists. I was in my element. Six hours without pause, face after face across the table, and I didn't want it to end. Ever.
In Novice of Colors, the first Temple of the Twelve book, a young girl enters into religious instruction at the Temple. The first Color to visit her is Lady Black and the first task set before her is to use her talent for drawing to sketch a true portrait of herself, her soul, her energy inside-and-out. She can hide no part of herself as Black sees all we obscure in the dark of ourselves. Caroline has the talent, every bit of that necessary talent and insight to complete the portrait, and yet she spends most of that allotted month feeling inadequate, scared she'll fail, disappoint, be asked to leave before she's ever really begun. She has drive and passion and the certain knowledge that she is exactly where she most yearns to be in life and yet she can't quite commit to seizing her talent and using it for something so sacred.
I share Caroline's certainty and her uncertainty. I know who I am. I am comfortable in my own skin. I am unshakeably committed to my own vision, morals, and Path. Yet, I also battle almost debilitating self-criticism at times. I've married the most intelligent, successful, driven, reliable person I've ever met in my life and can't help but feel diminished in comparison. I am surrounded by people working amazing jobs and I don't have one. I am almost embarrassed to tell people what I studied in college as it seems to have no worth. I have an outrageously, outwardly, undeniably talented group of friends, family, and acquaintances. What do I contribute? How am I important? Am I good at anything? My life is half over and yet I still don't feel like I've even begun. It is the hurdle to my own engagement, that fear that I don't measure up.
~*~
Last month, I got a one draw reading from
stonetalker, an expert at crystal and mineral stone divination practices. The stone drawn was my stone, rose quartz, and that was comforting enough of an affirmation. (I'd asked, in the reading, for a sign of what I was supposed to be doing with my life, how to serve actively through it.) Her interpretation of the stone, in light of my questions, was this:
Maybe, like Caroline, my uncertainties are part of the learning process. Maybe, just maybe, I can cut myself a little slack and stop apologizing for the things I'm not good at. I wouldn't even know where to begin in that process, though.
~*~
So back to my work at the shelter. I called the next number and an elderly man happily took the chair across from mine. He said, "I hoped I'd get you. This whole time, I'm watching you and you were smiling. Not one of them pasty-faced fake smiles but a real, genuine smile. I can tell you're genuine, smiling and kind like that."
I said, laughing, "Well, sir, I'm actually pretty pasty-faced, but my smile's the real thing. There's nowhere I'd rather be than right here with you."
That's about when it hit me--I am talented. Yeah, I can sing and yeah, I can type and yeah, I can read. Those aren't my biggest talents, though. I *am* kind. I *am* helpful. I *am* genuine. I *am* patient. I *am* empathetic. I *am* compassionate. I'm good at communicating with people, making them feel heard and respected, and I'm good at putting people at ease. I love humanity, I love people. I'm good at making strangers feel like friends and I'm damned good at being positive and pleasant and supportive and calm in the darkest of times. I was the perfect person to be sitting there that day and it had everything to do with my talents and my true self. I didn't even know things like that could be considered talents and yet they are, undoubtably, mine. My table wasn't business-as-usual. The families I met with and helped, we laughed and cried (and sometimes both at once). Elderly men preened and flirted with me and fussy children played with the contents of my purse, my pockets, my jewelry. Women held my arm and patted my shoulder and shook my hand when the forms were filled out. They told me things that were precious to them, little perfect secrets and confessions. One was sober exactly seven years, another daydreamed about going back to school to be a nurse, others didn't know how they'd afford their next meal or keep their teenaged sons out of the gangs. We shared sacred space. They allowed themselves to be charmed into making wishes after arriving unable to articulate anything like a personal wish or request. They were eager to talk, sometimes startled by the courtesy, the eye contact, the patient listening. I used my talents and it changed everything around me, everything within me. I just can't tell you what it was like working there. Fulfilling, heartbreaking, magickal, energizing, empowering, humbling, just one teaching moment after another.
~*~
I hate being volunteered for things. Many are the times I've had someone corner me and say, "Hey! You'd be perfect to do this!" and I've felt pressured into lettering car wash signs or babysitting unruly children or applying for a job I didn't even want. What other people view as my talents aren't always accurate. Lady Black asks what our talents are and how we're using them in the world. I finally understand that I can only volunteer myself. I must be brave enough to step forward into the void and say, "I am good at that and I am ready to help." Drive, passion, and purpose aren't enough. I need to reach into the dark and acknowledge all the ways I'm powerful and worthy and yes, talented, in this world.
In Part Two, I'll finally get around to telling you about my Black New Moon ritual and the many more insights and ah-ha moments I've already gotten only three days into my work with the Temple. :) That, though, will have to wait for a later date as I've got a toddler in need of some entertainment and a good jog around the neighborhood with me. :)
