windinthemaples

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 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. :)

Sunday afternoon, we had our September SpiralScouts meeting at North Park Village Nature Center. It was a small gathering, four children under five years old, but we had such a wonderful, sweet time. Our theme for the month was Autumn Blessings, acknowledging the passing of Mabon and introducing the idea of falling leaves as bright and beautiful symbols of blessings in our lives.

We started with a game of The Spider. The children (and us parents) thundered back and forth over the grass with shrieks and giggles as one after another got caught and became part of the hand-clasped web. Once everyone had been caught, the web linked together quite naturally into our opening circle where we discussed the five elements and how they are expressed in SpiralScout activities and badge work before I broke out into a rousing rendition of Air I Am. :D

Our main activity for the day was to make gratitude mobiles. To start, each child was encouraged to think of four or five things/people/experiences/whatever that they were grateful for. Really good things. With a boatload of stencils, they cut shapes to represent each of these blessings out of cardstock. Some freehanded their designs, so by the end each of us had a small pile of colorful, inventive paper shapes--keys and hearts and leaves and stars and dogs and cats and birds and fish. On the back of each shape, they wrote what the blessing was they were grateful for. It was heartwarming to hear some of the responses from such young children. Graeme and the other two year old present were grateful for things like fish and squares and whatever adorable words they came up with first. The older girls mentioned loved ones beyond the veil, a pet cat, shoes.

We tucked these blessing cards away and hiked through the autumn woodlands, gaping at the fearless deer that crossed our path and talking about the changes we could see in the fall landscape. We arrived at a very popular fallen tree in the center of the Preserve just in time for snacks--gorgeous organic pears and apples, little boxes of raisins and crackers. The children clambered over the fallen tree with their snacks and we read them a story, a translated Iroqouis thanks-giving prayer, Giving Thanks: A Native American Good Morning Message by Chief Jake Swamp. The light was slanting in golden cascades through the canopy overhead, the breeze was light and refreshing, the children were happy--it was magic.

Thank you, all the animals in the world,
for keeping our precious forests clean.
All the trees in the world, we are thankful for
the shade and warmth you give us.
Thank you, all the birds in the world, for singing
your beautiful songs for all to enjoy.
...
We give you thanks, twinkling stars,
for making the night sky so beautiful
and for sprinkling morning dew drops
on the plants.
...
And most of all, thank you, Great Spirit, for giving us all these wonderful gifts, so we will be happy and healthy every day and every night.

We packed up and the children skipped and ran back to our picnic table for the rest of the crafting. Here, we took found sticks and tree branches, punched holes in our blessing cards, and strung them along the branches with yarn and embroidery thread and little brass bells until they blew in in the breeze as blessing mobiles. The wind hopelessly tangled mine and Daniel's and it was both pleasantly sunny and cool and the children peeled off to play with each other at the end of our meeting.

It was wonderful.

( Some photos here... )

Next month, we're going to teach the kids how to use compasses and to read (very simple) maps with an outdoor treasure hunt!

During the week, I spend a lot of time at home with Graeme. By the time the weekend rolls around, Daniel has spent a lot of time traveling, holed up in his office, or otherwise not-home. Our ideas of good weekend pursuits, therefore, aren't always the same. I'm like, "Let's drive to Wisconsin!" and he's like "Let's go to the produce stand to stock up for next week. Oh and get the oil changed on the car!". Today ended up being a nice compromise between productivity and roaming that we both enjoyed.

By Graeme's noon naptime, we'd loaded into the car. By the second or third block he was out, so we had to decide what to do for an hour. Where were we headed, anyways? Daniel didn't want to drive very far and I didn't have any interest in the city, so we eventually settled on driving up to Evanston for brunch at Blind Faith Cafe, this great little vegetarian restaurant with awesome tofu rancheros. On the drive, Daniel made his Sunday phone call to his parents to hear the latest batch of bad news and family-wide woes. It seems like we're lucky, existing at the calm of a storm of misfortune, within our larger families. No health concerns, no heartbreak, no great stressors, financial worries, job losses. We're grateful and a little guilty, knowing how golden our lives are right now. We have worries and irritations and parenting-fatigue, sure, but it is all manageable and the outlook is bright. I don't know. Sometimes we don't know what to say. "Oh, that's terrible to hear. We're so sorry you're dealing with that. We love you. Oh, us? Oh, things with us are great!" We talked over brunch about how difficult life actually is, despite Daniel's early thoughts that it was possible to will oneself into the perfect life. Like, yes, things are great until they aren't. Illnesses, accidents, heartache, aging. Life is challenging and dynamic, wonderful and bittersweet.

After naps, driving, phone call, and gluttonous brunch, we headed through the Evanston neighborhoods with no real destination in mind. We drove past a small neighborhood park, set back into the trees and behind a fence, and I looked back to see if Graeme noticed it. He looked at me, lit up like a Yule tree, and said, "Yeah!" as if I'd voiced an invitation to something great. As the car passed the park with its glimpse of parkiness, his face fell and he started to blubber. Guess he'd seen it afterall!

Evanston's parks are vastly better than our local city parks. (Daniel mused why "urban" was synonomous (sp?) with "shitty".) There weren't gang signs graffitied onto the slide, for one. There were toys not bolted to concrete that hadn't been stolen. It was pretty nice! The sun shone, the birds sang, the trees whispered and conspired together to drape us in green, glorious shade. It was picture perfect. Graeme gleefully toddled around with Daniel and I spent the time laughing and catching up with rubymulligan on the phone.

(Oh my heart, my Wonder Twin, my snarky, perfect sidekick! Only the sudden and complete malfunction of my cell phone could have torn us apart.)

Once Graeme was satisfied that he'd met his park quota for the day, we loaded back into the car so that Daniel could get back on his "being productive on the weekend" checklist. (By the end of the weekend, we'd managed to pick out our new appliances for our upcoming kitchen remodel, restock the pantry with food, get him some cell phone replacement part, make several obligatory phone calls, and have dinner with his coworker who was in town from Austin.) We stopped at our local Toys R Us to exchange the umbrella stroller I'd bought the other day. (WTF. I'd bought the one with two wheels in back and two wheeless stumps in front. I am not a savvy shopper.) Graeme was bummed to see their Thomas the Train setup, true to urban form, had no trains to drive around on it. (Probably stolen.) After that bit of business, we went to Trader Joe's and stocked up on junky junk food. Popcorn, dried fruit, and potato chips r us.

It might have been my all ciabatta and margarine dinner, but I keeled over and went to take a nap (thank you weekend babysitting husband!) around 7 and didn't wake up until Graeme needed to nurse to bed. I'm sorta tired but also battling this persistent runny nose and cough that are left over from my head cold last week. It is hard to sleep and cough at the same time. :) I want to sit upright with tissues stuck up my nose and a bowl of cough drops at my fingertips, but I'm also tired and with Graeme asleep I could go lay down, too. Decisions, decisions. :)