Thursday, November 5, 2015

November, your voice is a flute.

Its a new month. Its the best month.



Its odd that for me, a spring baby, the deep autumn-that-is-almost-winter is the most important time of year for me. Its full of unique energies, and I make good use of them. Its a time for getting down to brass tacks and into the heart of the matter. This is the shedding time in the cycle of regeneration and rebirth. Just like snakes shed their old skin and crabs crawl out of shells that no longer suit them, the trees shake loose their leaves and flowers trim themselves back to the root bulb. There is often talk of dormancy, but I don't think its dormancy that dominates this time of year. It is waiting yes, but a useful, productive waiting. There is ruminating, germinating, rehabilitating, and rest. This is when the roots and branches and birds really get to spend their time thinking. I imagine them holed up with good books and warm lamps glowing, keeping out the cold and finally free of the burden of making and raising young.

(Not to mention that now is the time of year that the crows move to my block. Hoards of them come in with the sunset and crowd together on roof tops and in the bare trees, silent and still as stones, standing watch. And the leaves on the hill have begun to smolder, and this is what I watch when I write to you, or when I do my homework.)

I've begun a new tarot challenge. Having hopped on board a few days late I'm playing catch up, and so today I'm doing the spread for the 3rd of November, who's prompt was simply "Shadow".

Sometimes I jump unceremoniously into readings. But there are some questions, and some journeys, which we know will go deeper and into darker places, and these require a bit more preparation. Descending down, gingerly over rocks and under earthly ceilings into the still air of musty roots, you will need smoke, you will need fire, and you will need mindful breath.



Lighting my candle, I bathed in lavender smoke for a few moments before I fanned out my cards. This prompt comes at an opportune time. My shadow self has been particularly active of late (I've written a bit about it already) and its been a real effort to keep myself afloat. The best response to a looming Shadow is to walk right up to it and ask "What do you need?"

But this is careful work. My Shadow Self comes in the shape of a small girl child, my inner child, shut away in the past by PTSD, phobias, eating disorders, and loneliness. So it doesn't do to go charging into the dark corners and demanding answers or obedience. I don't think Shadow Selves of any age or sort respond to that approach, but I could be wrong. A more tender approach, slower and deliberate, is required. Here's that smoke, here's that breath. So I fan out my cards and place my hand over my heart. And I inhale. And I exhale. And I ask, sweet and soft as Lavender smoke, "What do you need?"




The Sun, 2 of Wands, and the runes Nauthiz and Wunjo.

What does my Shadow self need? Attention, apparently.

This is an almost endearing response. Or it would be, if Shadows weren't known for fucking your shit up. While I talk often of this topic and use words like tenderness, mindfulness and understanding, its important that we understand the power involved here. I think of my eating disorder and my shadow self and my inner child as all the same thing. Merging them helps me manage them and maintain a sort of adult "inchargeness" over my compulsions. But even as an incharge adult, I have to admit I'm frightened by this girl child, however "merely conceptual" she is. There's a reason why scary child ghosts are put in horror movies for adults; they're deceptively small, but having lived for an untold number of decades, they're stronger and meaner than you'd think. A combination difficult to overcome. If you want a picture of what this interaction looks like when it goes wrong, picture Elastic Heart. A very small, very scary person who pops up and wrecks havoc.

Another very scary thing pops up and wrecks havoc is an eating disorder. Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of all mental illness. I once compared it to Gollum and the One Ring; its the thing that you love which kills you, and it cares not; it wants your life, and it will undo your connection to reality as well as your very humanity to get it.

When looking at The Sun in light of all this, it could be interpreted as an almost comical or maybe even a deceptive response. But I don't think so. When we follow this disorder to its deepest root, what we find more often than not is a child, wounded.



This is an image before the Sun was blotted out; her first and truest nature. Free, innocent, greeting the world with a gleeful warmth. She's bursting forth in rays of light and flowers in their fullest bloom while the 2 of Wands looks on.

So what does my Shadow self need? Attention. But lets pause, that needs some more thought; there's good attention, and bad attention, and children who aren't shown good attention will seek both without distinction. So how I can I give what is needed in a healthy, productive way?



I pulled Nauthiz from the pile of runes waiting in my lap. It is an image of two sticks rubbing together to make a fire. This rune has a lot to say about struggle, resistance, and constraint. It talks of hard effort and the force of growth. What it also says to me is "patience" and "understanding". In an tired voice its telling the tale of how the Shadow got here, and reminding me to be kind.

I then pulled Wunjo; Joy. A rune that has been showing up often for me, and a most welcome sight. Wunjo is Joy, Harmony, correct application of will, contentment, hope, family, bonding, trust. "It wards off woe and sorrow so that abundant gifts of the multiverse have no trouble bestowing themselves on you." "In Wunjo we find harmonious energies characteristic in functioning families." "Wunjo reduces alienation by broadcasting love into the human energy field."

This is what I can give her. As an adult I have access to all these things, because as an adult I can correctly apply my will and make these beautiful elements part of my reality. It is this that is being handed to that small baby on horseback.



This idea of multi-generational, multi-dimensional healing isn't a new concept. Its one that's been hard at work in Buddhist psychology for ages. Thich Nhat Hanh writes about it, saying "If we take one mindful step, we take it for our ancestors who have come before us, and those who will come after us. If we take one mindful breath, then they breathe with us." Another particularly pertinent passage comes from his book Touching Peace;

"When we touch our pain with mindfulness, we will begin to transform it. When a baby is crying in the livingroom, his mother goes in right away to hold the baby in her arms. Because mother is made of love and tenderness, when she does that, love and tenderness cover the baby and, in only a few minutes, the baby will probably stop crying. Mindfulness is the mother who cares for our pain every time it begins to cry. ... When pain is in the basement, you can enjoy many refreshing and healing elements of life by producing mindfulness. Then when the pain wants to come upstairs, you can turn off your walkman, close your book, open the livingroom door, and invite your pain to come up. You can smile to it and embrace it with mindfulness, which has become strong. If fear, for example, wishes to come up, don't ignore it. Greet it warmly with your mindfulness. "Fear, my old friend, I recognize you." If you are afraid of your fear, it may overwhelm you. But if you invite it up calmly and smile at it in mindfulness, it will loose some of its strength. After you have practiced watering the seeds of mindfulness for a few weeks, you will be strong enough to invite your fear to come up anytime, and you will be able to embrace it with your mindfulness. It may not be entirely pleasant, but with your mindfulness you are safe."-Thich Nhat Hanh, Touching Peace.

I appreciate the fact that he says "probably stop crying". Any of us who have cared for babies, even if for just a short time, know that this isn't always the case. Sometimes it takes hours and some pretty inventive measures to get babies to quiet down. Mostly it takes an intuitive listening to what is needed. But with patience, and love, and understanding, it happens.

I also appreciate the cautions Thay shares, saying that only once we've strengthened our mindfulness through meditating daily on joyful things can we bravely and skillfully invite our pain and fear to sit with us and be transformed. Its a wise piece of counsel.

I go back to the cards and take a loot at them, because I always wonder what I can do in actuality. These are nice concepts and ideas, but what can I do in a physical, material way to facilitate this healing? Wands are the suit of creative energy, creative fire. Practically speaking, maybe its time to explore and express myself in a creative way, beyond the cerebral sphere of words. Perhaps its time to paint a picture, create some happy trees for my wall.

Here's to hoping you find the sun, even in your November shadow.
-A.H.



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