Wasted Talents

A friend of mine give me a lead on a second job.  It would be an odd marriage of current interests (Anthropology Study Group), old interests (writing, analyzing, projecting), and Cosmic Interests (the betterment of mankind).  Although the latter may sound obtuse, it is a very true mission some people hold in their heart and only hope to achieve one day.  I am one of those people.  

She told me to try to get in on the ground level, just a foot in the door for the interview.  "And they will see how talented you are and that you need to be in the position I see for you, we will intend it! Christine, Don't waste your talents."  That comment sat with me, fermented in my soul all night long. Those four little words were like a call to order:  Don't waste your talents.

Thus far my talents have had little to do with what puts food in my boys bellies.  But could they?  I decided to ruminate on my talents in the dark of the night.  It's a strange looking glass staring into the dark and asking what you see of yourself.  I decided my talents are not being used to their fullest.  

That little comment opened up a floodgate of consideration.  This summer I have felt the squeeze of not nearly enough money, yet I have remained hopeful.  Your ship doesn't come in.  Sometimes you have to build it - but the balmy breezes of a summer nights sail keep you hammering in the sun.  The dreams of the moon glinting on the water when you realize you, YES YOU, are a success from the beginning of time.  What kind of energy are you bringing to this existence?

So I have decided to explore more.  Deepen my commitment to writing.  It may not be what pays the bills but it pays a cosmic karmic compensation again and again.  I have decided that, yes, a class for fall is in order as is new secondary (and fulfilling) employment is in order.  I am gathering like the harvest for the richest bounty yet.   

Maybe your work feels like toil, but what of your cosmic work?  Do you make music? Do you paint? Sculpt? Sing? Build?  We are here to create - it's in the highest order of calling.  Create, Play, put food on your table but don't forget about that you that is intrinsically you.  The you that was forged in the stars in the very beginning.  The you that was patted by God.  The you that you have kept a bit hidden.  

Don't waste your talents.  Embrace them for the true Magick you are to make in this life.

Namaste

Unplugged

This summer has been an odd one for sure.  And a tight one $ wise.  So when my brother and his family graciously invited me to go camping for a couple of days in NY State, for a ridiculously cheap price, my answer was an immediate yes.  Then they told me about it...

NY State.  Barely any cell service.  Next to a Brook with icy cold rushing water.  Tucked into the mountains. Huge story-book like trees.  Campfires.  Nothing to do but hike, contemplate, and read...

Sounded perfect.

I've been on a bit of unsteady footing in many ways since graduating in May.  There are alot of things up in the air right now for me.  So the chance to escape to the forest with some of my favorite people seemed a no-brainer.  No boats.  No lights.  No motor cars; not a single luxury.,,It sounded pretty luxurious to me.  $20 in my Toyota gas tank and I took off.  I drove Route 17 and half way there the highway seems to lift from the ground.  Massive dense forest flanks you and closes off the world of worry you leave behind as you lap up the miles.  I couldn't help but smile.  I drove a steady pace and had a murder mystery on audio in the car.  Solo adventures are necessary people - never underestimate their healing qualities. 

In retrospect I wish I had taken some pics of the highway and the surrounding green - it was astonishing.  Everything up there is 'bigger' than where I live.  A historian friend told me that the forest around the sleepy hamlet of Hamburg (where I live) is actually quite young in comparison to many places that surround us.  The hills were treeless as settlers cleared them for homesteads and farms (yes, even the sides of the mountains).  I heard his words as I drove deeper into NY state.  The forests on my trip were much much older than the ones at home, stronger, seemingly filled with far more mystery, wisdom, and essence.  And there they stood welcoming me in.

I pulled off the road into a town of Nowhere.  Maybe once upon a time it had been a Somewhere, but no one cared to remember anymore.  The buildings that dotted town had long gone unimproved.  I always have the same reaction when arriving "What a gorgeous place to exist."  But that's just it - they are existing.  Very little industry and a few big box stores in outlying areas.  A perfect place for a writer....

I found the campground and my relatives and parked the car.  The GPS and cell seemed to cut out around the entrance off the highway.  It was ok.  It had gotten me exactly where I needed to be.  I let go of  the technology and took it from there.  When I opened my car door I was greeted and told to set up the tent as it was already midday.  What caught me first was the sound of water.  A giant artery of the most miraculously clean looking water rumbled over itself past the camp site.  My campsite.  I took a moment and stared.  I could feel it's damp and hear it's voice.  My body responded with a shift of freedom...  

I understand why people love river rock fireplaces.  They still hold energy.

One day I would love to have one from hand picked smooth rocks.

The river bent in spots as I walked along it and a bridge led to an old pump wheel structure.  

Long left to rust next to this water way.  

There were plugs and water spigots at each site.  I sat by the fire a long while with my brother and his wife talking.  It was hard to slow down but pretty soon were were all yawning and left the embers to themselves. I will admit the first night I had a hard time bedding down.  It was as if my body still craved the distraction that only our modern world can bring. 80's slasher films, and bear attacks made their way to the edge of my mind, then left.  The river finally took my thoughts and I felt 'safe' enough to close my eyes and sleep.  The next thing I knew there was an explosion of bird song and it was morning.  I was S>T>A>R>V>I>N>G>.  I don't know what it is about being outside, taking care of basic needs, and sleeping in the woods that causes the unbelievable hunger, but, well, there you have it - it happens every time.  I also am amazed that I sleep through the night when I camp.  No waking up worrying about bills, no getting up at 2AM to go to the bathroom.  None of it.  Just Sleep.

For someone that doesn't camp all that much, I was comically prepared having to simply heat up pre-cooked food on a cast iron skillet.  My homebrewed iced tea was in tow as well.  

Midway through the trip, we decided to explore the entrance to the camp which included a camp store (ice doesn't last forever), and to take advantage to check in with home via the only cell service we could get - standing almost still by the community pool.  Yes, it wasn't all roughing-it!  There was an old pool on premise that was well kept, a simple laundry facility for the seasonal people, a clubhouse with ping pong, an old jukebox, and a smattering of dated video games.  Nothing fancy, but enough to remind you that you were, in fact, on a vacation.  

Stay open to these things folks and to last minute invites that set you back $70 or more.  They are the best!  I've come to realize there's a wanderlust in me that I have accepted.  I can be ready to go anywhere in an hour or so.  And for a broke girl I'm usually Toyota-jetting off somewhere at least every other month.  It's a charmed life I think.  I don't make alot, but I don't really need alot.  Good friends, Good family, Good books and I'm home anywhere.

Namaste

The Green Spell of Enchantment

A spiritual forgetfulness co-existed with an intellectual remembrance.  She walked in brightness, but she knew that in the background those shapes of darkness were always spread.  They might be receding or they might be approaching, one or the other, a little every day.

-Thomas Hardy 

I am very honoured to say that I am part of an Anthropology Internship Group.  I am a data collector.  We touch upon many different things.  One of them is the Pagan belief system, complete with an acknowledgment to agrarian practices and ceremonies.  Many folks honor the natural realm and plant/cultivate/harvest by the moon,light, days, etc.  

There is a Wiccan belief that summer is the time of enchantment.  However there is a small downfall with this.  It is that one becomes so enchanted that they have been said to be under the Green Spell.  Where one day will tumble into the next with loss of time and motivation.  Perhaps instead of a dip into melancholy, I was under a Spell of Enchantment?  It's certainly far more romantic than anything I could dream up, isn't it?

Perhaps the Green Spell took me one night into the cool air of spring and swept me to the forest in its mist.  It then made love to me under the brilliant buds of a shining moon in the fertile mud of the water lands.  Perhaps I wanted to stay there a while.  This life is effort.

But we must continue though we wistfully stand naked in the night as the world beds down.

The light has changed and the spell gone away, over lime marked graves,to the stone of the mountains due East.  I am planning, goaling, meditating, reveling in the rustle of the lush tree canopies overhead.  My heart leans toward harvest, learning, preparing, securing, and that time when my kind finds their own -  drowning in bliss set against a drab landscape.

In my gratitude of being delivered back to my sacred path unscathed, for I had willingly lost my way, I stand between past and future - in the present.  Moments are all we have.  Dreams are what we conjure into our reality.  I am feeling solid as stone about them.  For that, I am thankful.  Come for me again Green Spell when the light is the longest. Enchant me and let me lose my way to remember you, waiting, in the Forest.  

Namaste

Floating, Dreams, Derailment & Touch

First the great joy...

On May 15 - I floated through graduation with my children in a stadium of 2500 (give or take) the three of us had tears as I climbed the stage (hyperventilated a bit), shook someones hand, received a diploma case and as I walked back I looked up at my boys on the first tier and had no choice but to hold it up in victory.  They cheered, I cried, and we all left with hope for the future.  Being a creative type I'm all about symbolism, ceremony, etc etc.  It was truly one of the greatest days because my children were there.  Then the future started.  And I was afraid.  Note to self - Be Gentle during transition.

My goal is to get into teaching in some capacity.  With all of this literature running through my brain - a celestial purge and give back is long over due. I graduated with a Bachelors in English Writing.  Currently I am working with a small press to have a collection of poems published and have 4 other projects in various stages.  Note to self - hold your dreams like the star dust they are-they are yours.

While all of this is wonderful, I realized achieving a goal that was years in the making, sweating, and working can leave one a bit untethered.  Achievers climb that mountain want to jump off in a way.  So what do you do?  Climb back down?  Jump? Grab some rocks and build a shelter?  It's a temporary place at best.  

Because I am a non-traditional student (please read non-traditional everything: woman, writer, lover, sleeper, seeker, giver, realizer) my path doesn't seem to fit a punch list.  So I need to forge my own.  I have all of my paper work ready to go to substitute teach.  I have applied at some jobs but I am not technically certified so it's dicey.  I have been given a nod as to a ghost writing opportunity, managing blogs for others and various social media, I am half-way through the process of applying to graduate school with out a clue as how I will be paying for it. 

Note to self - take steps forward no matter how seemingly insignificant.

Many plates in the air.   And then derailment ensued...

The past few weeks have been a strange time for me, very dark indeed.  I couldn't help but think of my favorite comics..."You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?"  Things took a turn with an odd injury, medicine (read poison), and more lack of sleep than my norm.  I began questioning everything.  Yes, I suppose the devil had his way with me, I didn't take it personally - I believed I was just next in the cosmic queue, but it all shook me to the core.  The self doubt, the physical manifestation of pain, the 1-2 hours of little sleep for about a month and then a whisper in the night;  'You need to be touched'.

Touch and I have a lifelong love/hate relationship.  Most of my life touch has been unsafe, violent, manipulative, agenda filled, and terrifying - even under the best of circumstances. But humans need to be touched. We've all read the studies of babies that thrive because they are held, Why should adults be different? One thing led me to another and I wound up in a chiropractors office on a table. Being touched.  After weeks of manipulation, heat, traction, etc I began to feel again, to literally 'open up' to the healing. Because I am a cosmic resister I had to literally talk myself into it each time - "let the healing in, relax, it's ok."

When I tell you it was amazing, it was beyond that.  I began to respect my body which had always been run by my mind as a sort of tool with boundless energy to get things done.  Respect.  For myself.  Open to the healing.  And then I took a turn toward the light.  And again my comics played; "It's always darkest before dawn".  And it is.  And it was.  Note to self - you ,too, are human.  Oddly enough the cards were in my favor.  The chiropractor did not take my health insurance but scaled the payment for a self pay which worked out to be less than most folks co-pay.  They also do healing massage which I am looking into as we not only need to be touched but we need it on a consistent basis.

So here I am in midsummer, with prospects ahead.  I believe I am to teach, however it may not be in the traditional realm I had first envisioned.  Grad School calls as does the idea of adjunct at night at a college.  Some dusty evenings passing the torch of Literature to minds that will hold fast to the same words I have held fast to.  Note to self - Success is never a straight line, bridges may be out, detours may abound, prepare your soul accordingly

Namaste