Paradox

  

(c) Lisa Weikel

Entering the Abyss

Monday was the second anniversary of my eldest son's death.  (How many times did I type different words, euphemisms, cryptic or veiled references to this truth, only to just hit the backspace button and come back to writing it simply and to the point?  Lots.)

Grieving is exhausting.  To do it right, it takes a hell of a lot of stamina.  And by "doing it right," I mean making an effort not to lose one's self in the abyss.  Allowing your heart, mind, and soul to fly into the crevasses, into the void that allows no light, but also pulling up when it feels like you'll never take in another breath yourself, and allowing yourself to remember just why it is you mourn.

Creating Ceremony

I cannot even remember what we did last year to commemorate our loss.  This year, 11/11 fell on a Monday, so Karl, Maximus, Sage and I were separated, at least physically, each carrying on in the physical world, as best as we could, as if this day were no different than any other.

Unbound as a result of having no appointments with clients, I am free to just be, to listen to Spirit's guidance as to how best to honor my son.  I retreat to the back of our property, behind our barn, where cattails and wild grasses dance in abundance and the carcasses of several dead Christmas trees mingle in a pile of toppled branches, yearning to burn.

Ceremonial Guardians - (c) Lisa Weikel

Opening my mesa, my 'sacred bundle' or 'medicine bag,' on the grass, I arrange the objects within it into a configuration that can hold me, not unlike the ceremony I performed on 11/11/11 - twelve hours before Karl drowned.

But before I sit within it, I create Sacred Space by calling in the Directions and the archetypal energies that reside in the North, East, South, West.  I call in the spirit and essence of Mother Earth, as well as Father Sun, Grandmother Moon, our Brothers and Sisters of the Star Nations, and of course, the overarching energies of Mother/Father God, Goddess, All That Is.

It is while I am inviting in the energy of Mother Earth, my forehead connected to the ground through the center of my mesa, that I feel the welling from within.  I feel Her presence coming up, or perhaps enveloping me is a better description.  She is present.  She is here.  She embodies Mother energy, and She is oh-so-familiar to me, containing within her essence, the memory of my own mother - yet so much more vast.

The tears that yearn to express that bottomless sense of loss arise from my bowels, my womb, the bottom of my spine.  Trickling at first, they soon pour from my eyes onto the sacred cloth before me.  There are no words.  In that moment, I am simply with The Mother.  Held by her, comforted by her, knowing that She Knows.

Eventually, as my sobs subside, I talk to Her.  "Why do I always cry when I connect with You?  What is this?  What does this Great Sorrow mean and why do I hold it so?"  I'm mostly referring to the times when I have engaged in ceremonies in which my connection to her has been augmented by her plant children - though certainly not always, some of which I've written about.  My connection to the Mother goes way back - and has always, always been accompanied by Sadness.

The Paradox

I lift my face from the cloth and look around.  The honeybee that alighted on my hand when calling in the Directions has disappeared, but a yellow butterfly flits by, right in front of me, and nonchalantly lights upon a stalk of straw a few feet from where I kneel.  Behind my left shoulder, a screech owl calls out two times - then is silent.  It's early afternoon...I'm definitely not alone.

(c) Karen Gallagher

In a realization that is beyond words and seems to arrive on the breeze, I understand that I carry this Sorrow - Her sorrow - precisely because I Know Joy.  I Know Love.  All at once, I feel as if I embody the paradox that resides in feeling the grief of losing a love that can never be lost.

It is both the ultimate burden and the ultimate privilege.  I carry the pain because I live the joy.

I don't like to "go there," but I'm committed to its necessity.  I will not deny my pain.  I will not deny the void that resides within my heart that will never be healed.  Yet, I much prefer to focus upon what lies beneath the loss.  And to get there, I have to go through it, through the pain; I must refuse the urge to turn away because it hurts too much and just go there.  As often as it takes.

Because underneath it all, there is Love.  And love, ultimately, is all there is.  It's what we want, what we fear, what we seek, what we're terrified of losing, and what we would not exist without.

I saw this video this morning and saw in it a reflection of my experience on Monday afternoon.  It made me realize that, yes, we must face our greatest fear - by loving fiercely.  Every day.  Knowing that it could end in the blink of an eye.  And yet never, ever.  Not truly.

November sunset (c) Lisa Weikel

"...as long as the earth is contaminated"

"The best we can do is put them in the barn, block all the windows and bring them clean food and water as long as the earth is contaminated," said Hilmarsdottir.

Well, OK then.  I think I speak for a lot of us when I say that's a quote we only expected to read in science fiction novels or hear in movies that gratuitously exploit fears of 2012-related apocalypses.

Yet this is actually a quote from an Icelandic dairy farmer, Berglind Hilmarsdottir, who is trying to figure out ways to keep her 120-head dairy herd alive and healthy while volcanic ash rains from the sky and piles up like some poisonous, gray snowfall on pasture, roads, houses...everything in sight. 

This makes me wonder what it means, then, when she suggests keeping up such a routine "as long as the earth is contaminated."  How long will that be?  And how long is it possible to keep all the windows in her barn blocked and engage in the arduous work of bringing the beasts clean food and water?  And even if it is possible for this lone dairy farmer to engage in these life-saving strategies for days, weeks, and even, perhaps, months - is it reasonable to expect others will be as resilient?

And just what does it mean when Hilmarsdottir says, "...as long as the earth is contaminated?"  How will the Icelanders rehabilitate the earth, particularly when so much is coated with this poisonous paste?  And where will the rest of it, the stuff currently polluting the air aloft above all of northern Europe, end up landing? 

Let's face it:  the impact upon the Icelandic folk who live in the shadows of volcanoes and glaciers are the least of the world's worries.  What's totally blowing everyone's collective mind is the impact the huge cloud of volcanic ash is having on the world's air traffic, and by extension, travel and commerce.  Not only that, but possibly worse: the uncertainty of it all.  Well, look at that - Mother Earth has fooled us all.  

Many have assumed that we would (or still will) suffer the consequences of climate change: melting ice floes, concomitant rising sea levels destroying coastal cities, rainforests becoming defoliated and arid, and temperate zones becoming anything but temperate, if we fail to act decisively and quickly to reduce carbon in our atmosphere and implement sustainable ways of living on this planet.  

Many have been unsurprised by the spate of earthquakes devastating the poorest among us and rattling the nerves of those living in areas where money has wisely been spent (due to regulations encouraging - through threat of sanctions - such wise spending, by the way) to erect buildings that have (so far) been able to withstand similar quakes.  

But a volcanic eruption on Iceland taking out international travel and commerce in a potentially devastating manner?  Can it conceivably be true that Eyjafjallajökull might continue erupting for another year, as it did in 1821?  

The irony of the effects of such ongoing eruptions and the consequent fallout impacting the world through the vagaries of "which way the wind blows" makes my shamanically-trained self laugh.  Oh, the hubris of humanity.  We think we're so smart.  We think we have it all figured out.  

Yes, we "think" we have harnessed Mother Nature.  And yet when it all comes down to it, she can take us out by just shifting the direction of the wind.  

So, maybe we need to start paying attention.  Maybe, instead of thinking we know it all, we should try listening with our hearts, stop our bullshit, and start acting as if we care about the Earth.  I'm not suggesting we sacrifice some virgins to the volcano.  I am suggesting, however, that we begin realizing our place in the grand scheme of things and start paying attention to our Mother.  She's getting pissed and, sooner or later, she's going to demonstrate even more obviously just how easy it is to show us who's boss.  Maybe we need to truly begin listening, put sustainability and ecological awareness at the top of our list of priorities, and realize that we're a part of this world - not the rulers of it...