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Being the caterpillar in the chrysalis and a birthday November 4, 2009

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Uncategorized.
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On the drive home from the Samhain retreat over the weekend, I was in touch with simultaneous feelings of the most intense insecurity and an attention to the beauty of the surrounding countryside on the drive back to Troy along Route 2.  What a gorgeous drive!  There aren’t many better than that.  My drives to Spirit Hollow and the Mad River Valley, both in Vermont, were spectacular, and this was in that category easily.

A bittersweet ride, however.  The thing about being the caterpillar, being destroyed in the chrysalis to be reconfigured into the butterfly, is that I feel of-the-void right now.  It’s not the moon that’s void of course, it’s me.  And how could it not?  To continue the metaphor a little, I’m a sum of grey goo being reconstituted in a new form.

And that feeling continues on.  It’s a little less right now, but it’s still there.  This … well, it almost feels like depression and grief.  No, it IS depression and grief, at least in part.  I’m saying good riddance to some things that just don’t work for me anymore. 

“Fill me with the clarity so that I may know myself in all my parts.  Fill me with the clarity so that which no longer serves me is dispelled.”  Yeah, this is what a big ol’ dose of clarity feels like.  Guess it’s the old “be careful what you wish for” sort of mishagoss.

It’s part and parcel of something else I’m working on, which I do earnestly want.  I have come to understand the notion of “entry fees” as it were.  I’m paying my dues along the way.  Some things have to be broken away.  I visualize the playwriting aspect as being a part of me that has gotten really bright, but the bloom is off the rose.  It’s a bit like the effects of an addiction after it’s stopped working.  Can’t get no kick out of it.

Not that I want a kick anymore.  Still, I have been going to it for that, and I catch myself in certain behaviors that are stagnancy itself.  Ironically, I laid out a tarot reading that suggested this is not the time for inaction.  This is a time for … doing … OK??? Help me out here. Doing… what exactly? 

As a side note, I realize I DON’T want to go off and sit on a mountaintop and contemplate my navel.  I want to be involved. Somehow.  Part of me thinks I just need to send a resume to the Goddess.  Just address it “Star Goddess/Center and Circumference/Quark Particle to The Whole Earth and Outer Space and/or Faerieland.”

Perhaps this is a mite dramatic, but I wonder if this isn’t how the Fisher King felt.  I’m functional, but it’s such a drag, such a pain to keep going on.  When I ask myself “What makes my heart sing?” the first image I get is of a handsome granite tombstone with my name on it, sitting atop a hill in a forest, looking out over a beauteous valley. 

I’m sure that I want beauty around me.  I want to be in nature, au naturel.  And I probably want community, though I’m not experiencing much of any of this right now. 

What do I do when what I have is not what I want? 

Oh, and I’m 9 years sober today. Huzzah.

Cross posted to ordinarysacred on livejournal

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