A Fascination with the James Holmes

Like many I have a hard time not being glued to the TV when it comes to the recent tragedy in Colorado. Once again, we are thrown into disbelief as someone uses violence for reasons we may never understand. Once again, we are confronted with the frailty of life as innocent people are killed for reasons we may never understand; although I think we would all agree that there are never reasons for killing innocent people; or in my belief, never killing people at all. Once again, we are faced with the reality that life can be cut short in the blink of an eye and we are no longer walking in the Garden.

Yep, like so many I have a hard time not being glued to the TV to hear the speculations, to listen to the survivors and to watch as people grieve their way through another senseless tragedy.

But I am fascinated with James Holmes the "suspect" in this horrific killing spree.

Who is this young man? What was it like to be him? What is going through his mind right this moment as he is held in solitary confinement awaiting the charges that could bring him the death penalty? Who is this young man? A son, a student, an employee, and a Child of the Goddess.

I was a Social Worker for 33 years and during that time I worked with many sociopaths, psychopaths, schizophrenics, pedophiles, child abusers and killers, rapists, drug addicts and drug dealers...oh I could go on and on. I have seen things and known things that would make James Holmes look tame. And sometimes I think I stayed in that field for so long as I never stopped being amazed at what one human being was capable of doing to another human being.

I have watched the video of James Holmes in court over and over. I looked into his eyes and saw what others seem to be missing; I saw a lost little boy. A very very very sick, lost little boy. And I found myself asking him the question over and over: "what happened?" And I mean by that: what happened in your mind and heart to cause you to prepare for and carry out this mass murder of people you didn't even know and then to alert the police to your booby trapped apartment? What happened?

I know from all my years of working with the marginalized, the disenfranchised, the mentally ill, the illiterate, the violent, those without a conscience, and those with out a Voice that there is an answer to the question "What happened?" And I do believe that James Holmes is telling us in his very silent voice. But is anyone listening? He is speaking for all those who have lost the ability to be in community.

We so want a clear cut answer such as "I was bullied and finally couldn't take it any longer and flipped." or "My parents abused me and I am so angry I couldn't keep it in any longer." or even "I took too many drugs and didn't know what I was doing." What we don't want to hear is :"I have a very sick mind and no one even noticed or cared to notice or made available to me resources to stop the demons in my very sick mind."

I just watched a spot on TV where people were upset that the defense attorney is going to try to "use the insanity plea." No shit sherlock! People who do these things ARE mentally ill! They have very sick brains. And yet if he was Diabetic we would know what to do; or even if he had Cancer we know how to begin treatment, BUT mental illness is that stigmatized disease that still has us wanting to lock "those people" up in the attic and throw away the key. They make us uncomfortable. And why?

Because we could be them!

Mental illness is funny like that! Anyone of us at any given time can find ourselves one step over the line between what society determines is "sane" behavior and what is "insane" behavior. James Holmes is us and we are James Holmes.

Oh and there are those I have said this to who have vehemently said, "Not me!!!! I would never ever do something like that. Never!" Ah, but how do you know? What would it take for you to find yourself in that solitary cell wondering "What happened?"

We all kill another every day. James Holmes just did it in the most horrific way. But we kill each other with our words, thoughts and actions. We kill each other as we refuse to help the homeless or to report the suspected child abuser. Coach Sandusky Killed more souls of children during his reign as pedophile than James Holmes killed last Friday. For many of those children, now adults, they are the Walking Dead. We kill each other when we threaten to cast evil spells on someone; or when we rape with our words and our hands.

And so I am fascinated with this story because I am not sure that given different circumstances in my life, I too would step over that very thin line between "sane" and "insane". And so, I see James Holmes in a very different way than most. I see him as a Child of Goddess who is so lost in the Darkness that he knew only one way out. Be horrific!

I don't understand it and I will bet you that this is one that the forensic psychologists will be trying to figure out for a very long long time. And this young man may not be able to help them answer the question: "What happened?"

And it leaves me very sad. For this young man, for the victims, for the family and friends and for those who were in the theater that night. And I am very sad for a world that sees violence as the answer to what is ailing us. This is not the world that Goddess created. It is a world that worships power and control instead of Love and Light.

Yep, I am a bleeding heart! Yep, I see the potential for good in every living thing because I believe that we are made that way. And so when this happened I wrapped James Holmes in Love and Light and sent him to the Goddess. For it is only Her who knows the answer to the question: "What happened?"

May everyone who was involved in this horrific episode find peace and be restored to joy. And may the man who felt the need to lash out in this way also find peace and may he be held responsible for his actions as may we each be held responsible for our own. 

Blessed be!

Wilderness of the In-Between

Wilderness of In-Between

I find myself in the Wilderness of In-Between.

I am lost in the Wilderness of Change, following signs that seem to lead to dead ends.

Or maybe I am like Winnie the Pooh, thinking I know the way, but finally realizing I have just been going around in circles all this time.

This Wilderness of Circles has a Name: the Wheel of Life.

And I’m learning to name the Seasons, the Directions, the Elements and even the Sabbats.

Yet this Circular Wilderness of Change has many Shadows and Caves and Dens. And I am tired of revisiting them. I am tired of showing up and not knowing where I am or why I am in that place again.

I stand in the midst of tall trees, in the midst of rays of sunshine, in the midst of moss and leaves and I cry out—

IS THIS IT? IS THIS WHAT THE IN-BETWEEN LOOKS AND FEELS LIKE?

And I name this place: Uncertainity. How do I let go of Mother and Embrace Crone?? How do I learn how to move in this Wilderness of In-Between , that which I know well and that which remains in the Shadows?

I Name this place Death and it fits so well!  Death is something we have to do alone. Death is Finality and yet Transformative. Death is Naming the Wilderness we Fear and yet is always necessary to Movement and Freedom.

I find myself in the Wilderness of In-Between.

I find myself lost in a Time Warp of Circles, Shadows, Dens, Caves and Change!

I’m looking for Home! 

Eve and Her Serpent

I have always been fascinated by Eve in the story of Adam and Eve in the book of Genesis of the Old Testament. The story focused on Adam up until Eve forced him to eat an apple that caused them to be thrown out of Paradise. Adam was the first created human; Adam was given the honor of naming everything in the Garden and the responsibility of taking care of the Garden. But Adam gets bored with all this honor and responsibility and asks God for a "help mate." That being the definition of "woman".

And so Adam goes to sleep and low and behold the next morning there beside him is Woman; taken from his own rib. Yep, Adam gives birth to woman! It's the last time males will give birth! All is great in The Garden; Adam and Eve (whom he also named) running around naked playing and doing whatever the very first two humans would be doing in Paradise. Until that fateful day when a slithering serpent arrives when Eve was alone and entices her to go pick an apple from the Tree of Knowledge; that one tree in all the Garden that God told Adam and Eve not to touch; nor eat from it. She was then to give a bite to Adam so they could both know everything God knows.

We all know the end of the story! Eve does that very thing, eats the apple and talks poor defenseless Adam into partaking too and then they realize they are naked and go and find fig leaves to cover up their "private parts." Oh and they hide from God too (now this part always made me laugh! Like the Creator of the Universe didn't know where to find them? Good grief) Well, anyway, God gets pissed and throws them out of the Garden with the curse of Adam having to actually work and Eve would have painful childbirth. Done and Done! One strike and they were out into the Dark World!

A great patriarchal story about creation, don't you think? Funny how this story is held up as the absolute Truth of how we all came to be. But alas, once again, parts were stolen from the pagan religions and the purpose was to rid Woman of any role that smelled of Goddess religion. And the poor serpent! Forever the hated animal of the kingdom! Slithering, sneaky, solitude snake; ready to lash out and poison whatever gets in it's way! Woman and Serpent get the bad rap in this story and poor, poor Adam has to go to work!

But if you study the meaning of Serpent/Snake you will find that it has a very powerful healing, teaching, spiritual meaning. Native American Shamans are usually born with this Totem. From the Celtic perspective, the snake was a symbol of secret knowledge, cunning and transformation.Wisdom and transformation are key to symbolism of the serpent!

Serpent brought these gifts to the Woman Eve. She and Adam had played long enough in the Garden and it was time for them to begin their place in the wider world! Eve was chosen to bring this knowledge, this Wisdom, this Transformation, this Cunning and Secret Knowledge into the newly created world. It was Woman who was there to invite Adam to shed his old skin as she did hers. Physical evidence of leaving its form behind (casting off the old self), and emerging a sleeker, newer version made the snake a powerful symbol of rebirth and renewal. And that was the secret knowledge that this patriarchal God did not want them to know. This patriarchal God was selfish and jealous as we find out through out the reset of the Old and New Testament of the Bible.

Woman with her animal totem, Serpent, were the ones to bring new life, new wisdom and ultimate Transformation to those residing in the Garden. What better way to take Woman down then to put her in the Evil position with an animal people see as evil. And poor poor Adam! He had to go to work!

I love this new statue that now resides in my sanctuary. She reminds me that as Woman I am the bearer of Ancient Wisdom! As Woman, I am the bearer of that Knowledge of the Goddess that was never meant to be secret. If we want to buy the story of the Old Testament; Goddess was waiting for one of her humans to eat of the Tree of Knowledge so She could be fully revealed to all of Her Creation!

I often wonder how our lives would be if this story had been told with Goddess being the Creatress! If instead of throwing the couple out of the Garden, She had embraced them and showed them all there was to know about the Turning of the Wheel!

I often wonder!

Blessed be!

Broken, but not beyond repair

Broken, but not beyond repair

Chapter 1

“I don’t want a doll this Christmas,” I remember saying over and over again when I was around 10 years old. “I want guns and a holster.” Please, Santa, please don’t bring me a doll!”

But it was a doll I got!

Then again at age 11, I said the same thing. “Please bring me a football.” But another doll was under the tree with my name on it. It wasn’t that I wanted to be a boy or I didn’t like girl stuff, I did! I just knew what I wanted and it wasn’t another doll.

My mom brought the muddy doll into my room and asked me how my new doll got buried in the back yard. I very honestly said to her, “She died and so I buried her.” I guess it was the only way I knew how to end this doll thing.  And I just didn’t know why I even wanted to.

I guess I was called a tomboy. I loved playing cowboys and Indians, running around outside with the neighborhood kids and I loved playing in the woods behind my house. We played house and I cooked mud pies and fussed at my “husband.” I did love playing house and imagined I would get married and have 5 children, all adopted!

But from as far back as I can imagine, I just didn’t understand why there were these “rules.” You know, girls get dolls for Christmas and my brothers got the cowboy guns and the footballs. I wanted both if I really admit it. I just didn’t want someone telling me that there were things I couldn’t have because of my gender. But I didn’t have the words for it, yet.

Chapter 2

“What do you mean I can’t acolyte?” I asked the Pastor. “Only the boys can light the candles in church,” he told me. “But who came up with that stupid rule? Who decided that girls aren’t good enough to carry the flame down the isle, go up into the altar and light two candles? Tell me who. Did God?” My questions came to my parents and my Pastor over and over again in my adolescence.

So finally, probably because my Pastor got tired of me bugging him, or maybe it was because it was the end of the ‘60s and every thing was changing, he let me have this sacred honor! In fact, he told me that I was probably the first Lutheran female to ever be an acolyte and he could get in trouble for allowing me this privilege. Once it started, he had to let the other girls take part also. I was very pleased.

And then the next gender rule set in at church: we would have a Processional Cross and would need Crucifers! Ah but, only boys were allowed to carry this Holy Cross down the isle and put it in the Processional Cross holder. In fact, this was such an honor that the church established “The Order of St. John” for the boys who were deemed worthy for this service to the Lord.

“Why can’t girls carry this cross?” I asked once again questioning all these rules that excluded half of the population. “Is it too heavy?” “No,” the answer came, “only males are allowed to serve the Lord in this way” So once again I asked boldly, “Who made this rule? Did God make this rule?”

I was 55 years old and attending seminary when I finally got to Processes to the Altar with the Cross held high!

Chapter 3

It was never about being a boy or girl; it was about being a Person. How confusing it was to me when I heard in church that all were made in God’s image (including me), but yet, (for some reason), God didn’t think women were good enough to serve God in the church. 

 This is the beginning of a book I would love to publish one day! I was thinking about my writing this about 8 years ago this morning as I was sitting at the computer on a Sunday morning. Eight years ago I could never have imagined how my life is now (can any of us?).  "Going to church" was top on my "whatcha doin' on Sunday" list. In fact, it didn't even have to be on the list....it was what ya did! But the messages that flowed from the pulpit and Sunday School classes permeated the society in which I was raised. And I rebelled. I rebelled since I can remember. And many times I was broken by it and I gave in and I believed everything that was told to me. But deep inside; you know that place where the Goddess lives and breathes; I would pick up Her pieces and repair and give Voice to what was so damaging about the patriarchal brainwashing coming from every place I walked! 

I am still in Repair! It will be a life long journey I am sure. I don't blame the Church, or my parents or even society. I don't blame anyone or anything. We are all trying our best to live in this Garden and understand. But what I do regret is that it took me so long to figure at least this part out. 

Blessed be! 

What a difference a Day can Make!

I have wanted to blog all week. But being the Sports Geek that I am, I have been distracted by Wimbledon Tennis and the Olympic Swimming, Track and Field and Gymnastics Trials! So, here it is Saturday afternoon and I have shut off the TV for a moment to enjoy a few minutes writing about my walk this week on Monday and Tuesday.

What a difference a day can make! On Monday, I found myself walking at 6am and it was cloudy, warm and humid. Really stifling is the word that comes to mind. As I walked around my apartment complex I began to notice all the dried up plants hanging on many of the balconies. Ferns and other plants were brown as brown could be! I was really surprised and wondered why that had happened. We had not yet come into these early Dog Days of Summer with over 100 degree days, so I wondered if people just forgot to water them or if they were all bought at the same place and were sick to begin with. I also noticed the trash left by some people and began to complain in my head about residents who didn't seem to care about where they live! When I got home I was sweaty and really kind of irritable.

Now fast forward to Tuesday. I woke up at 6am with the windows open to find it 58 degrees outside! I couldn't wait to take my walk. As I walked I listened to the birds singing; I was awed by the wispy clouds in the sky and I excitedly noticed the tomatoes growing on one man's balcony and all the beautiful baskets of flowers on so many others! The Sun was gorgeous, the Lake was glistening and I found myself singing a happy tune! When I got home I stopped in my tracks and thought, "OMG....what a difference a day makes!" Nothing had changed except the weather. The dead plants were still on the same balconies but I didn't notice them, the healthy baskets had been on the balconies and I had noticed them.

In light of the huge damaging storms that raced from Ohio through Virginia yesterday, I am sure many are thinking the same thing. Those people were bracing for the high temperatures forecast for the weekend; not a large wind storm called a "derecho". What a difference a day makes. 500,000 without electricity during the hottest days on record isn't what was planned for yesterday or today for that matter!

We try and try to plan our days in the Garden. We have our lists; we have checked it twice and then something happens to shoot it all to hell and we are left irritable and wondering what went wrong. But this is life in the Garden, right? As humans we so want the power and control, but then an event in Nature comes along and we loose that power; figuratively and literally! Gaia still has the power we so desperately want.

But in the tragedy we see those who are offering up their chain saws on facebook to those who live in their area; my sister who just happened to be visiting her in-laws in Roanoke, Virginia this weekend was there to go check on our elderly aunt and uncle who couldn't be raised by telephone (she found them without electricity and no water and refusing to leave...don't know the outcome of that situation yet); and shelters being set up for those needing a place to cool off and have food and water. We do step up when we are needed!

Wouldn't it be nice if that was the way we walked through the Garden every day?

Oh what a difference a day makes!

Blessed Be! 

Family?

I have been thinking a lot about this concept of "Family". I was raised that Family was the most important relationship in the world; that Family was there when no one else would be there; that "honoring your mother and father" was right there next to "thou shall have no other gods before me" in the 10 commandments. I was taught that I had to love my siblings because, well, because they are Family.

Lately I have been thinking a lot about this concept of "Family." I have four siblings. I am the oldest. I have a brother 3 years younger, a sister 5 years younger, a brother 9 years younger and a sister 10 years younger. We seemed to have a happy loving supportive "family" until 9 years ago when my oldest brother went off the deep end and verbally attacked me for a still mysterious reason and stopped speaking to me, my parents and my youngest sister. My middle sister has always been toxic, cruel, two faced and the one who stirred the pot of trouble. She aligned with my brother 9 years ago and also stopped contact with me and my youngest sister and had little contact with my parents until last year. Now they are BFF with mom and dad and I think it is cause our parents are getting older and their is inheritance to think of. Even my oldest brother is getting back in their graces, but won't visit cause I live close to them. So all us siblings are in our 50's now and a few are acting worse than 2 year olds!

OK, so lots of families have these issues. What's the big deal? Well it got me to thinking and talking to Goddess this week about this Family thing. I realized that as human beings we have this need to be connected with those of our own blood. I know there are adoptions that aren't like this, but even my uncle left his three biological sons more of his inheritance than the two Korean daughters they adopted as babies. "They aren't blood" he said.

So as I was talking to Goddess I began realizing that blood does not a friend make. And that is what Family is to me. Would I be friends with this person if I wasn't related to them? For my brother and sister the answer is NO!!!!! Now my youngest sister is in fact my best friend but those other two! No way! Even tho' my mom tells me over and over again, "you must forgive them, they are your brother and sister." Why the hell do I need to forgive and be friends with human beings who have acted like monsters and have hurt my parents so badly.

I finally decided that I can chose not to see them if they come in and not to be around them, just like I can chose to be that way with anyone I meet. In fact, if push came to shove and I "needed" help, they wouldn't help me, but I can bet that some of the people I have met on facebook sure would!!!! I can guarantee  myself of that fact.

So, when I call someone now a sister or brother it has very different meaning. It is now a true relationship word. In fact, the greek word for brother/sister is in fact the word that means "human being". It does not delineate family relationship as we know it now. During the recent Dark Moon ritual, I burned the names of my oldest brother and sister and ended the relationship. It was freeing!

I love the way Kahil Gibran puts it "Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you yet they belong not to you. (The Prophet)

They do not belong to you is such a profound statement. Family is not about belonging it is about relationship to one another through Life's circumstances. And it is ok to say, "nope, you are not someone I wish to be around or to have a relationship with." And that also pertains to parents. I struggled with the whole 10 commandments thing when I worked in child abuse. I had a hard time trying to help children/teens/adults honor the parent(s) who burned them with cigarettes, beat them with electric cords, raped them repeatedly.
And I felt very uncomfortable when I would say, "well, if nothing else, honor them for giving you life." Hard one to swallow when their lives were not worth living so many times.

So I come back to this Family concept. As I approach my 60th year of life, I think I know what Family is to me. It is human beings who love each other for who they are, who enjoy being together whether in person or through technology, and who respect each other. That is Family.

I will honor my parents and help them always because I love them, respect them, and enjoy being around them. And they are elderly and need a helping supportive loving hand! Not because they gave birth to me. And if by some chance my oldest brother and sister would ask for my help. I would be there for them. Not because they are family, but because I am on this Earth to help people in need. Not because I "have to" due to the whole family thing, but because I honor them as another human being on this planet. It may seem ridiculous to spend this all this time thinking about this since they don't speak to me, but I think it is important for us all to look at how we view Family.

Who knows? In the long run there may be less guilt and anger as we are confronted with the people we were raised with. I know we can't chose our family members but as adults we sure can chose how we define them in our Earthly Journey. So, for me I have one sister and one brother (the one I work for!) and two acquaintances who I don't associate with.

Works for me!!!!!

Blessed be!

HerStory

I think a lot about my maternal grandmother when I take my Morning Walks. It's the Coo of the Morning Dove that often brings her to mind. My grandmother lived to be 95 and she died when I was an adult. Now Gram lived in Pennsylvania (she was Pennsylvania Dutch) and we lived in Virginia. Our vacations were to go up North and stay with her and visit my mom's other relatives. I loved those vacations so much and have wonderful memories of times with aunts and uncles and cousins. But for me it was those summers I was "sent" up North to stay with my Gram and then one of my Aunts that I cherish the most.

And when my Grandpop died when I was like in 3rd grade, Gram would come back with us from our vacations and spend about a month or two. Now I come from a large family and so when Gram came to visit she slept with me in my bed. This continued even into my teenage years. I must admit that there were times when I hated that she slept with me, but I loved to hear HerStory!

As we laid in bed, Gram would tell me about her childhood and the days raising her 5 children. My Gram suffered through times that were lean and she grew up in poverty and then raised her children during the Depression. And yet, HerStory was always full of hope and love and survival in a positive sense. And while she was talking I often heard the Coo of the Morning Dove.

Gram taught me to "listen and watch". We would lay in my bed and listen to the Whip-O-Will sing it's song and she would ask me to image the Story it was telling. She would tell me about watching the the little children she babysat for to earn money after Grandpop died and how she loved "working" for the neighborhood families with small children. Gram taught me a lot as she told me HerStory. She also encouraged me to tell her mine!

HerStory! We are taught History (HisStory) more than we are taught HerStory. Which is odd to me since throughout the ages it is the Women Who hold the Stories in their Womb. It has been the Women to pass on the Stories of the Family to the next generation; it is the Women who pass on the Stories of Faith and Love; it is the Women who weave the web that catches each person in the Story of Connection to one another, to Goddess, to all of Creation. And yet it has been the Men who have written down the Stories and have changed them to fit their vision. Women throughout HisStory were not allowed to write out the Stories or to teach them from pulpits, in temples or even to others. But HerStory survived and for all intent and purpose it has been the correct Story.

My mom is the StoryTeller in her family and in ours. She is the youngest of 5 siblings and now only has one sister left who has advanced Dementia. My mom tells stories over and over again; sometimes til I get very frustrated with her. But what I finally understand is that these Stories; HerStory; are embedded in my soul and they have very much formed the way I have lived my life; the values I have; and the love I have all Creation.

What I notice is this Art of Storytelling has lost it's place in our society. We are very much Now People and we don't seem to take the time to tell the Stories that need to be told. Women no longer sit in Circle weaving, crushing Corn, making meals for the family. Women no longer find it important to tell the story to their young as we get too caught up in their lives and the day to day activities of "being busy." I am at fault too!

It is time for us to relate HerStory in our daily lives. It is important whether our Story is full of shame and abuse or whether our Story is full of happy times and love and care. It is all HerStory and it is told not out of power and control but out of love for the web that needs to be weaved as we walk in Gaia's Garden with all of Creation.

I loved seeing the world through my Gram's eyes. I cherish the memories of feeling the tears running down my cheeks as she spoke of those times when there were only 5 potatoes in the house and she fixed one for each of her children and she went to bed hungry. I knew then I would do what I could to help those people who were hungry and that is very much a part of MyStory. I cherish those times when my heart was full when I walked by her bedroom door and saw her kneeling on arthritic knees in prayer to the Lord she trusted to walk with Her as she traveled HerStory. I cherish the memories of her interest in teaching me how to weave the Story that would become mMyStory to tell.

Now I just need to honor her by telling it!

This a picture of my Gram a few months before she died. I now have the rocker that she is sitting in. This picture sits next to my altar. What an incredible Woman! What an incredible Spirit! What incredible HerStory she had to tell!

Blessed be!