Hecate

I hope my soul friend readers will leave some comments. I'd like this to be a conversation.

We have been listening to Joseph Campbell's Power of Myth series with Bill Moyers in the 80's. Last night he mentioned that our society is suffering because of a lack of myths and lack of an initiation rite for boys and girls. He pointed to all the crimes committed by young people as evidence. Maybe a purpose of my blog to bring myths back into consciousness to ease suffering. He also states that myths and dreams both come from the same source, the subconscious. I have been quite vigilant about recording my dreams lately and am looking for a way to work with them.

Sunday, I read about Hecate in Jean Shinoda Bolen's book, Goddesses in Older Women. Hecate is often pictured at the crossroads able to look in 3 directions with her 3 faces. Breast cancer has brought me to such a crossroads in my life. What do I want to do with my one wild and precious life? (Mary Oliver) I took a step over a threshold today by agreeing to help an NVC mentor with a workshop in late May. One insight that rang true to me was that there can be a time of lying fallow before it becomes clear which path to take. Also Hecate represents mid-wives and witches. Some times I feel like a witch with my interest in herbalism and flower essences. And have felt that hesitancy to let on about too much lest I be persecuted as a witch. Scholars estimate that between 100,000 and 8 million women were tortured and killed as witches in the middle ages. Hecate represents the ability to find and face the truth as she did with Demeter when Persephone disappeared. She suggested, "Let's go ask the God of the Sun. He saw it all." Bolen states, "Hecate the witness is there when you pay attention to your dreams, heed you intuitive perceptions, or listen to an inner voice. It's as if she accompanies us, holding up her torches so we can see in the dark."

Isn't this what we do for each other in NVC when we stay in the present and give empathy? Here are some Hecate questions:
What have I learned about life from my own experience? What truth do I need to face?
Do those questions resonate with you?

Artist Date

Since I have had cancer, mortality ia no longer an abstract concept for me. This morning I wrote to answer the question:
What do I still want time for?
1. An adventure trip or a pilgrimage with my daughter.
2. Some time alone with my daughter every year.
3. Plenty of time for restful, mindfulness days at home.
4. To write this blog.
5. To get back into shape.
6. To find and take my place in the Nonviolent Communication tribe.
7. To see my nephew well on his way in life.
8. To go canoeing with Dave.
9. To enjoy a long and happy retirement
10. To do more art- gather and set out my materials
11. A retreat with lots of silence built in.

Another way to connect with my soul is to nurture my inner artist. Yesterday I went on an "artist date" to do that. Artist dates are the one of the many brilliant ideas of Julia Cameron to unlock and nurture creativity. They are meant to be done alone, but I have a friend and kindred spirit who likes to do them too. We teamed up yesterday and went to our local museum and then out to lunch. This was a stretch for me to be out for so long, so I was glad to have the company. We saw some incredible stuff, including work by Brian White, a local man who uses found objects to create sculptures and paintings. Click here and scroll down a bit to see a picture of his seashell encrusted wedding dress. He had several other amazing 50's era dresses made of seashells and a life-size ram and a ewe made of seashells also. There was also a collection of paintings from the museum's collection that explored the effect of the rise of abstraction. I came away from there thinking, wow, creativity is alive and well. Creativity happens. I'm constantly surprised and grateful for the interesting and sophisticated cultural doings in our area. These exhibits were in the Jamien Morehouse wing of the museum. Jamien was a wonderful friend to many here and a wonderful mother, daughter, and wife. She died of breast cancer ten years ago in May and I still miss her. A granite fountain with a lovely quote from her touched me deeply. So I nurtured my creativity today and spent time with a soul level friend. What do you still want time for? How do you nurture your creativity?

Jean Shinoda Bolen, M.D. inspired this blog with her book, Close to the Bone. She uses mythology to illuminate the journey of illness. Inanna, Queen of the Outerworld, decended into the Underworld, Hades, Hell whatever you want to call it to visit her sister Erishkegal, the queen of those realms. Each time she passes through one of the 7 gates, she must give up one of her items of finery that identify her as a Queen. First her headdress, then her fine necklace, bracelet, etc. For me the seven gates were different surgeries, doctor's appointments, tests, and chemotherapy appointments. I gave up my right breast, my hair, my rewarding career (temporarily!), my fancy outfits for work. I have several items purchased right before diagnosis with the tags still on them. I've lived in virtually the same pair of pants, turtleneck, and sweater for six months. Inanna is the symbol of a successful, worldly woman, protected by a man, successful in the values of the patriarchy. Through my journey of breast cancer, I met my sister, my shadow self, Erishkegal. Erishkigal is alone, not protected by the patriarch, a muttering wild-eyed crazy woman. More about her next post. Does this myth resonate with a difficulty that you have faced?

A Green and Juicy Crone

I feel that I have a new goal, thanks to JSB. What is my version of a green and juicy crone? Well that's what this blog is about. Will I bring in more Artemis or Diana, the goddess of the hunt. She was alive in me as a little girl when I climbed trees, ran with a tribe of kids playing horses, dared to walk the white picket fence next door. I can remember one old apple tree in particular, out in a field that looms large in my childhood memories. The field was behind the houses across the street and stretched for at least a quarter of a mile in all directions. My mother taught me how to mark our secret wild asparagus patches by sighting a tree in one direction and maybe the How's house 90 degrees away. Anyway in this beloved old apple tree, there was a branch that was bouncy and another one to hang on above it. I can remember how much fun and how daring that seemed to bounce and bounce. By myself or with a friend. When did that part of me get lost? When a stranger grabbed my breast as I was walking to through a suburban neighborhood to the swimming pool? I was quite proud of those new breasts and probably strutting right along only to be accosted in broad daylight. What did I do? Keep right on walking and pretend it didn't happen like a good 50's girl. Was it lost when I became a sexual being and brought in other Goddess's attributes? How will I bring her back in? Adventure travel? Defense of the vulnerable? Artemis, alone of the major goddesses, was granted autonomy by her father Zeus and would never be violated or overpowered by male power. Whew, wouldn't that have been nice? She also defended those violated and vulnerable, just as I regret on occasion not doing as a mother. I just wrote about that this morning in a list of things I regretted doing, in answer to one of Jean Shinoda Bolen's questions to help me align with my life's purpose. The question is What do I regret doing or not doing? What about you? What do you regret doing or not doing?

So far....

I've done it! Started the blog I've been thinking about! My cancer journey started with a diagnosis of Stage 2 HER2 positive breast cancer in September 2008. My surgery and chemotherapy led me through the gates of hell and by the end I felt like I was dead, hanging on a meat hook, just like Inanna the Sumerian goddess. Like Inanna, before my descent, I had all the trappings of a successful life: home, great career, the protection of a man. All the emblems of success in the patriarchy. Each appointment, each surgery, each trip to the hospital for chemotherapy was equivalent to passing through another gate to hell. In addition, the economy did a nosedive and the wealth I had been counting on for retirement was decimated. By the time I got there I was also like her sister Erishkegal, moaning in pain. My friends supplied me with an unbelievable amount of support and empathy, just like the flies in the mythological story. After a time (3 days in the myth) I came back to life and am now on my way up the stairs from hell back to the outer world. Older and much wiser I hope. More soon.