15 July 2009 @ 12:10 pm
Usually by this point when I'm running a rit, everything is kicked into High Woo by now.
It's different, for this rit. I feel mostly tired. Exhausted, really. I feel worn out by other people and find myself wanting a lot of time to lie on the couch and be left alone. It's . . .a dispiriting headspace for running a rit.
But . . .there have been meetings. The walk has been walked several times now. Key issues resolved, as best as possible. Cookies to bake.
Greek gods in my head have had a tendency to . . .not be the way I expected them. I expect them to be solemn and serious and instead they tend to be impish. They tend to love a good joke, a good smoke (offering), they want to feel things to the hilt - to love, fight, fuck, and cry.
I keep doing meditations before bed and I have strange fractured dreams. What I seem to be picking up is . . .Be awake, be aware, be conscious about the moments in your life. I'm constantly afraid of forgetting something important about . . .everything - prepping for this rit, doing this rit, etc., etc., etc.
I feel like things that are being transmitted to me are things I should already know or do already know . . .but don't do.
When I try to explain the ritual, I talk about being in the fullness of one's life. What I think I'm trying to say is that . . .there are mortgages and papers to drown in, bosses who are in a bad mood, ssdd problems with friends, family, and lovers, everything I want to accomplish in a day never happens, I may or may not ever loose the weight I want . . .
But that's not all there is. Those bits aren't even the important bits to being an adult, a grown up, a Mother. Yes, it's important to know how to cook, clean, pay your bills, do your laundry, show up to work more or less on time and you need those things, but that's not the point.
The point is, you learn to own yourself. You learn to not be everybody else's girl. You decide your goals, your hopes, your dreams. You're responsible for how they happen or not happen. You get to decide if you want to work 9-5, party 9-5, and then work 9-5 all over again. You decide what's important - marriage, children, career, art, music, love, whatever. You decide if you want to eat cannoli for lunch. You are yours and no one can take that away from you unless you let them. And if you do by chance, as we all tend to give ourselves away, you can take yourself back.
I have snapshots in my mind about what's been important in the last few weeks: the goldfinch who came to my balcony to talk to me, singing kirtan to Shiva, lying in a patch of sunlight in my underthings, straightening my room so it feels like mine, the way ricotta ice cream tastes, the smell of Water (BPAL) massage oil, the story about the rabbit in the moon who makes mochi, the memory of her with ivy painted on her face and me sobbing on my knees in her lap asking for absolution and being granted it and the ritual where we both called Her in, a bridge between us and now I will try to call Her, wishing she was there to help.
I just want this rit to be right. And I don't know what that means yet. And I won't until it's over. Fireflies. Bunnies. Fat Squirrel's cousin. The tower of longing. The smell of greasetrucks. The arbor where we all come together.
I try to open my heart. That's what She wants from me, to open my heart and to allow myself to feel everything I can feel that day. And I will try. Lady Demeter, oh how I will try for You.
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