My Take on the Reunion in the Garden

Miriam was alone on the last bit of the path to the tomb where the body of her Beloved lay.  She moved quickly, eager in her anticipation of being able to do one this last service for him, to touch the flesh she had loved so well.  But she was bent over like an old woman, her grief enfolding her, because she knew that she would only be touching the earthly vessel.  The burning spirit that animated the vessel had fled.  The kindness in the eyes was gone; the breath that was behind his gentle yet authoritative voice was no more.

The sun was beginning to rise, and the birds were joyously welcoming what was for them another glorious morning.  Miriam could hear the voices of the other woman behind her on the path, their chatter subdued in counterpoint to the singing of the birds.  She clutched her bag of spices and precious ointments closer to her chest.  The odors arising from the bag were a reminder that for her, there would never be a glorious morning again.

As she neared the place, she saw that the stone that covered the tomb was gone.  She ran to look inside, dread gripping her bowels, and saw what she most feared: the body of her Beloved was gone.  She emerged from the tomb, and realized that the soldiers who had been guarding the tomb were also gone.  Frantically, she ran through the Garden, looking for anyone who could tell her where the body had been taken.  It was all too much, this final blow to her heart was more than she could handle, and she fell to the ground awash in an ocean of tears, oblivious to the world around her.

A voice penetrated the bleakness.  “Woman, why are you weeping?”  The voice said.

Miriam stood and turned in the direction of the voice, thinking that it might be the keeper of the garden. Eyes downcast, she said “if you have taken him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will go and get him.”

The man reached out toward her, and gently said “Miriam.”

Miriam looked up to his face, a joyous smile blossoming amid the tears that streaked her face.  There was only one person who called her name in that way.  “Rabboni” she cried, and threw herself into his arms.

Yeshua drew her into an embrace, wrapping his arms around her and enfolding her in his warmth.  But when she turned her face toward his for the welcome and familiar kiss, he gently, reluctantly pushed her away, saying “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet gone back up to the Father.  But go to my brothers and sisters and tell them that I am going to him who is my Father and their Father, my God and their God.”

Miriam watched as figure grew brighter.  She had to avert her eyes when the light became too much, and when she opened them, he was gone.  But she knew that he was with her, and still wrapped in the Presence of his Love.  She stood there until the other women found her.  The clustered about her, asking what had happened, and if she knew where Yeshua was.  She smiled at all of them, and said. “We are not abandoned.  He has returned to me, and to all of us.  Come now, we must go tell the others”.

Miriam turned on the path, and walked eagerly, with her head held high, back to the city.

Mercury Retrograde

I hate Mercury Retrograde!  A Retrograde is the period of time that a particular planet appears to be travelling backwards.  Astrologically, they are regarded as a time when things related to the particular planet's sphere of rulership tend to go awry.  Mercury is the ruler of communications, so computers and communications system get wacky, and misunderstandings abound.  The Mercury Retrograde is not considered a good time to begin a new project.

Anyway, we are in a Mercury Retrograde right now, and thankfully it ends in less than 13 hours.  When it began on March 12, it seemed to be a easy one.  I had two things going on that were begun just before the retrograde, and both seemed to be developing nicely during the first half of the retrograde.  However, much like the Ike and Tina Turner version of Proud Mary, the second half has been rough. 

There were two important developments that occured in my life in the month before the retrograde.  The first was the Thean church, and the concord between those of us who created seems to be coming apart.  The second was a more personal relationship, and suddenly that is gone.

The Library in my head

Once upon a time I owned a vast library, especially for someone as nomadic as I have been.  When it moved, it occupied over 40 sturdy filing boxes.  In my last two houses, it had a room of its own. It covered a lot of subjects.  I had a collection of used school books, books on hard science (mostly astronomy, cosmology and bleeding edge physics) books on soft sciences (linguistics, psychology, sexuality and relationships), books on metaphysics, and books on the occult and speculative sciences, books on Wicca and other New Age subjects, books on Christianity, Judaism, and books that explored the links between the above.  And then there was the fiction side: primarily mass market SF and Fantasy that filled 6 full bookshelves.  It was an amazing thing, and I was justifiably proud of it.

But things began to change in 2007.  We decided to try and sell the house to get out from under a potentially difficult financial situation.  That meant packing up all the books and getting rid of much of the furniture that was in the upstairs of the house in order for it to show better.  The house did not sell, but we never reclaimed the upstairs.  Eventually it was rented to some friends. 

When I realized I was not going to be able to put the library back on display, I decided to start divesting of myself of the books.  First to go was about 60% of the SF/Fantasy paperbacks to a UU church book sale.  When I moved to NY in 2009, I left about half of the books behind.  When I moved into my little apartment in January 2011, I left more than half of the books that remained behind.  The last of the books was given away before I went into my current exile (ok, a little dramatic, but it feels that way sometime) here to middle of nowhere Illinois.)

There has been more than a few times in the last few weeks that I have wished for a book that I used to own, but I am discovering that these books still exist.. in my head.  I am also finding that now that the ideas that were stored in those books have been released from their bindings, they are recombining into new forms.

I miss my books almost as much as I miss my dogs.  I will have a dog or two  in my life again, though different ones from Kitsu and Ranger.   The books however, still exist in my life, if only in memory...

The threads of my spirituality - Catholicism

I often describe my spirituality as complex braid or macrame dominated by three threads: Christianity, Wicca and Judaism.  Which is why I am so excited by this thing I am blessed to be a part of in creating the Thean Church.

Like the majority of Americans, Christianity was the first thread: specifically Catholicism.  I was not born a Catholic.  My parents are both from Illinois, so they were both vaguely Protestant.  But they divorced when I was young, and my stepfather was Irish Catholic.  I was baptized at age 5, at the same time as my 2 year old sister and newborn half-brother.

I don't remember thinking much about God before my baptism, but suddenly I was immersed in religion.  I mostly liked it.  I vaguely remember the old Latin mass, but I became a Catholic as the Vatican II reforms came to America, which meant I became familiar with the get 'em in, get 'em out, get the next batch in English mass.  I mostly liked being a Catholic.  I liked the idea that I was learning the "one true and only religion".  I liked going to Catholic school. I loved wearing the little white dress and veil for my first communion.
I liked Miss Grant, my second grade teacher.  But I truly loved Sister Mary Catherine, my third grade teacher, even though I was a bit in awe of her.

But even then, I was vaguely aware that there had to be more to it, there had to be a feminine side.  I really enjoyed the Holy Days dedicated to Mary. And then there was the day in third grade when one of the parish priests came into the classroom to give our Religion lesson.  His topic was the Trinity.  After explaining God the Father, God the Son, and the (very male) Holy Spirit to us, he asked for questions.  After getting the question which allowed him to explain that Mary was holy but not divine, I stuck up my little hand, and asked "how does Mother Nature fit into this?"  I don't remember his answer, though it was along the line of "she isn't real, just make believe".  The quelling look given me by Sister Mary Catherine was enough to know that I had asked an incorrect question, and I didn't ask any others.  But deep in my heart, I knew Mother Nature was just as real as the Holy Spirit.

I was a devout Catholic for the next several years.  I was confirmed in sixth grade.  I liked deepening my understanding of my religion, but unlike my classmates who chose traditional feminine confirmation names like Catherine, Elizabeth, Theresa, Anne and Mary, I chose Joan.  I think one of the teachers tried to talk me out of it, but there really wasn't anything to object to.  She was after all a saint, if a feminist one.

I finally left the Catholic church in 1974 when I was fifteen.  Unlike most of my peers, I chose to continue attending RE classes into High School.  We had a youth leader who wanted to allow us to really delve into what it meant to be Catholic, and I was really excited about that... but suddenly our RE classes turned into weekly anti abortion rallies.  When I asked that youth leader when we were going to get back to studying our religion, he replied that he didn't know, but didn't I think what we were doing was really important?  I stopped going to RE and to mass in disgust.

I would have left within a year or two anyway.  I had a burgeoning call, and good Catholic girls cannot become priests.  At fifteen, I was still seriously considering the convent, but even then I knew that wasn't what I really wanted to do.

I searched around for a few years, including spending some time studying with the Jehovah's Witnesses and some Nazarene "Jesus freaks".  As a result I brought the first Bible into my family home.  Like many Catholic families, we didn't have one.  But ultimately, neither of those was what I was really looking for...

Foundations

Before there was Any Thing, there was the All, the Source, the Monad.  It was eternal, but timeless.  Time is relative, and there was No Thing to relate to.  It was Formless and because by encompassing all Forms it had None.  It was Changeless, because Change can only be measured against something, and there was No Thing else to measure against.  It simply Was, and Is, and Will Be.

Suddenly something separated from the All, and Reality began.  But what emerged was two somethings.  Call it Light and Dark, Energy and Matter, Theos and Thea.  Reality requires both.  Time began, because now there was something to Relate to.  Form began to be defined.  But is was when these two Concepts turned to each other and embraced that Life began.