Goosey, Goosey, Goosey

I was on my way to the weekly Jyorei energy healing meeting in Seattle and, as I turned a corner at the South West corner of Lake Union, I looked over to a strip of grass along the shore and was delighted to see a pair of geese casually grazing there, and with them, a few of their young goslings. Okay, so "delighted" for me in this case translates into excitedly crying out, "Goosey, goosey, goosey!"  The thing is that, not only did it excite me at that moment, it also flashed me back to a memory which sent me delving through an old journal...

*deedilee deedilee deedilee deedilee*   (that's the sound of a flash back effect ala Wayne's World)

It was '96 and in this same area.  I had just dropped off my ex for a Goddess workshop, and since it was for women only, I wandered alone over to the shore of the lake (pretty close to the same place I had just seen the geese and goslings) and I sat down on some grass near where a group of Canadian Geese were grazing.  To my surprise and enjoyment, they continued to graze in my direction until I was pretty much engulfed by the gaggle.  Eventually they moved on again and I thanked them, and the Goose Deva, because I felt much restored from the worries and concerns that had been previously plaguing my mind.

On an impulse I stood up, asked the Goose Deva for permission to again approach the group, and receiving a 'yes feeling,' I walked over and sat down as close as I had been to them before.  While the others continued to graze unconcerned around us (and suddenly I feel like Jane Goodall), I found myself face to face with one who was also sitting on the ground.  I asked if she had anything to share with me, and I instantly heard her reply:

"Freedom -- freedom from need

 with all things provided for you."

I watched these magnificent birds enacting the truth and timelessness of this message right before my eyes as they fed -- all their needs provided for them without worry or concern.  I looked down at the goose feather I was twirling in my fingers, a gift from the geese I'd found near-by.  It was now imprinted in my mind with this message and I wanted to do something significant with it to help me stay mindful of this moment.

Soon after that I made a 'prayer stick' that I'd seen in a dream. Amazingly it came out looking exactly like the one in my nocturnal vision.  And attached to it, along with a crow feather that also holds significant significance for me, is this goose feather, reminding me of my Providence, and my connection to the Goose Nation.

All Possums Go To Heaven

Many years ago I developed the habit of  'checking in' with any animals I saw who had been killed on the road, just to see if their spirits were still hanging around and if they needed help crossing to the light. The vast majority of the time, particularly with wild animals, they are alright and have already passed. Still there are some that need a little aid. I helped a cat recently and was pleased when, out of the portal of light that appeared next to her, Jeshua emerged, reached down, and gathered the purring kitty into his arms to carry her back into the light.

It's funny, but after all this time of doing this, it just does not get routine -- new things happen all the time that make me sit back in awe.  A few days ago I tuned into an opossum on the side of the road who'd been hit by a car.  I asked if he was alright and he said yes. I saw the familiar bright light and knew for sure he was taken care of. But there was something unfamiliar about this light as well.  Instead of being a round portal, the way it normally appears, this light formed a long, horizontal seam whose two edges parted and widened slightly, allowing the opossum to crawl up into it before it narrowed and closed. 

As I realized what just happened, I was blown away.  Opossums, though they live here in North America, are marsupials, and like kangaroos, carry their young in pouches.  What I'd observed was this opossum returning to the pouch of his mother, the Great Mother. And of course, the Mother of us all is also the Goddess of Opossums.

A Bird In Hand

Sometimes the pristine perfection of a title for a blog post outshines any possible combination of words that follow it.  In fact I was hemming and hawing about posting this, but I couldn't resist the opportunity for such a perfect title.

So there I was at my day job, everyone at lunch but me and one other guy, and we had opened the huge bay doors of the warehouse to let in the sunshine and the fresh air.  I was minding my own business filling an order when the other guy came running past, looking at the ceiling and mumbling something about a bird.  As I was letting this sink in, he ran up the stairs to this upper level storage area, and I could hear him desperately trying to scare the bird toward the doors.

"Goddess be with me," I whispered to my self as I calmly climbed the stairs and assessed the situation.  The little junco was sitting on a ledge of these big windows we have up there, and intermittently jumping up and fluttering against them trying to get out.  "Good," I thought, "She's a little worn out so that will make this easier."

The other guy was chattering non-stop, at me and at the bird, still the sound of desperation in his voice.  "What do we do? We're just trying to help you! What should we do?!"  I more-or-less tuned him out and focused on our little feathered friend, stepping slowly toward her while removing my over-shirt.  At the same time I consciously relaxed myself, allowing reiki energy to start flowing through me, and I talked softly to the scared little bird.  I was able to get pretty close, and on my second or third attempt, when she fluttered up, skimming against the window, I successfully threw my shirt around her like a net and gently  found and held her through the cotton folds of my shirt.  She was too tired to fight, and with the weight of my shirt and firmness of my hands she surrendered and calmed. 

Again I tuned out my co-worker, whose desperation had turned to praise, and calmly walked the little bundle in my hands outside, away from the warehouse.  I knelt down in the dirt next to some bushes and, still holding her securely with one hand, pulled the shirt away from her head so I could see her.  Our eyes met, and though I knew she was still scared and unsure of her fate, I whispered to her my thanks for allowing me such an honor as this personal interaction which totally put the rest of my day in perspective.

I slowly opened my other hand.  She slipped from my shirt and instantly shot away, her black and white tail feathers flashing at me.

Thank you Goddess.

Let Us Dance

I am sitting in a Seattle Starbucks, having just attended the special Mother's Day service at my house of worship, Gaia's Temple.  Being, as one friend called me, a "Goddess Man" the day takes on an additional layer of meaning, celebrating the Mother Goddess in every woman, past, present, and future.  In the course of the service some things began to glimmer across my mind and I thought I'd try to capture them here while they are fresh -- so please forgive me if this entry wanders a bit disconnectedly as these thoughts haven't been fully explored yet.

So I was sitting there looking at all these beautiful women of every possible shape, size, and color, standing up for a special blessing, each holding a fresh rose, while the impact of various lines of poetry, song, and teaching from the morning settled in.  As I recognized, thanked, and blessed these women I felt a subtle shift in me and I began to recognize something else -- namely my role as a man.

This has been an on-going process of thought, identity, and growth for me, pretty much  from childhood on. Even as a boy I was what you could probably call a Momma's Boy, and  I wasn't into sports, or fighting, or much of anything that is typical for boys.  Because of this I developed strong feelings of inferiority as I constantly "wimped out," unable to fulfill the expectations put on me because I was a boy.  This softness was seen, by myself and those around me, as a weakness. 

Even now this is something I struggle with from time to time, as I am dismissed or seen as too weak or too feminine by others -- and I sometimes almost start to believe it myself.  But even as I am typing this I am just now realizing the strength it took to maintain my innocence and softness through all those years.  People are always asking me how I was able to turn out the way I did without losing those parts of me.  But I remember the specific point in time, standing in my friend's back yard as the neighborhood kids were divvying up teams for an impromptu baseball game, when I realized I was at a crossroads and I consciously chose which path to go down.  I could very easily go down the road where I would forget myself and let myself get wrapped up in sports, like all the other guys seemed to be, memorizing all the players and all their stats, and living for the next game, or I could be true to my heart and my self and go my own way, even though I didn't know what that way looked like -- The Road Less Travelled.  Despite this leading me to countless instances of feeling wimpy, worthless, or inadequate because I couldn't do what I was "suppose to do" according to ideals of family and society, that was a very bold decision for a prepubescent boy growing up in the Midwest.  I always bewailed the fact that I never fit in, but at this point I can look back with gratitude at the strength and courage it took this younger part of me to follow his own path rather than just following blindly those around him.  Way to go little dude! :)

More recently, as I began exploring, and recognized a definite draw for me, to more feminine, Goddess-oriented religions and spirituality, I think I sort of disowned some of the masculine aspects of myself, not realizing I was still caught in the World's ideas and expectations of what masculinity and femininity are. I really began thinking of myself as "one of the girls" since most of my free time is spent with women.  99.9% of my friends are women because I get along with, seem to have more in common with, and just plain enjoy the company of women over men.  Of course I could hear alot of guys saying, "I prefer the company of women too!" but I'm talking on a more emotionally equal commonality level.  Women are better peers to me than men.  I get them and they seem to get me on a deeper level, which I deserve and crave.  So, yes I became "one of the girls."

Through all of this, and being very aware of the atrocities through out history to the present day visited upon women, by men as well as patriarchal ideas, I became almost embarrassed and ashamed, and definitely apologetic for being a man.  I think this is probably, at least in part, responsible for a string of strong, opinionated, girlfriends who seemed to think (and not always without my agreement) they knew better than me who I should be.  What did I know?  I was just a man, and look how badly men have screwed up the world.  And thus I gave up a lot of power out of the guilt of my gender.

And this is what I think I felt shift at the service.  Instead of feeling in limbo between the two worlds, not being a woman and yet not claiming my manhood, I suddenly saw my place as a bridge between the two.  It was time to step up, claim my masculinity -- not that I have to do anything differently (I would still rather take a quilting lesson than watch baseball) -- and stop being apologetic for being a man.  My pretending to not be a man isn't helping anyone, and in fact only helps the old patterns continue.  A recurring lesson for me is that I am meant to be seen, and in this way I need to step forward, unabashedly, and be a man -- a well balanced man who is very in touch with his feminine, which only makes him stronger, more flexible, and more compassionate, and more a force for real change in the world. 

As an interesting aside, even the Samurai were aware of this.  These warriors, known for their fearlessness and battle prowess, were required to be skilled in at least one of the non-martial arts -- calligraphy, poetry, music, etc -- to balance the more masculine, driving, aspects of their life with more feminine, creative aspects.  I once saw Jackie Chan on a talk show and, having been trained thusly, he sang an operatic piece of music.  The host was a bit bewildered, remarking that he would have thought Jackie would be more into singing hard rock stuff because of his incredible and dynamic kung-fu skills, and Jackie, perhaps a bit bewildered himself at this remark, replied something about how unbalanced that would be.

So, for me it seems time to stop just rejecting or rebelling against the old masculine paradigm, which just sells myself short, and with a foot in both worlds start modeling a new one -- become the change I want to see, and be the man I'm meant to be.  As a Pagan I've always felt my goal and my role was to become or to embody the Lord of the Forest (the Divine Masculine consort of the Goddess) as much as possible, and as such support Her.  Only during this service did it click into place that this support is as an equal rather than as a subservient.  I see it sort of like the "hollow-bone" concept in Shamanism, where your goal is to be like a hollow-bone to allow Spirit to move through and guide you.  The Divine Masculine is the manifest form, the hollow-bone, by which the fluid and creative Divine Feminine moves into and through the world. It is through letting go and trusting Her guidance that the masculine reshapes and changes and evolves.  And as the Masculine shape-shifts and grows, the Feminine finds new creative expressions and ways to guide the Masculine.  It is a dance not a battle. 

The real strength of being a man, expressing the masculine principle, is in staying clear and trusting, having the strength to stand your ground and be true to your heart, which is your connection to the feminine. It is only in this way, standing fully in the masculine power, that you have the strength and focus to form a solid and strong enough container to allow the feminine power to express truly through you.  It is the masculine's job to make space for the Goddess. We are suppose to be facing outward, arms out and ready to fly on the waves of love from Her that flow through us and fuel us, not facing inward trying to control and contain, or even protect Her.  She doesn't need protection, and in actuality She can't be contained. Neither is She outside or separate from us.  She dances with the Divine Masculine through each of us regardless of gender or orientation.

I realize that some of this is only half-formed ramblings, but I hope it makes sense. I have a funny feeling this is a subject that I will be revisiting, revising, and refining here in the future!

So I feel myself stepping fully into my manhood, the smokey, whispy ghosts of my grandfathers gathering behind me in a line stretching  back through the annals of time.  I stand solid, determined that the ancestral chains break with me.  It ends here.  And as one voice my grandfathers speak through me, addressing every woman who reads these words --

For every man who has ever abused you, whether mentally, emotionally, physically, or sexually, I am sorry.


For every man who has ever caused you fear, discomfort, belittlement, or in any other way threatened your sense of well-being and wholeness, I am sorry.


For every man who failed to support you, take you seriously, trust you, consider your needs, or be emotionally available, I am sorry.


For every son, brother, husband, lover, father, grandfather that was taken from you in battle, I am sorry.


For every time and for every way you have been lied to, cheated , taken advantage of, taken for granted, disrespected, preyed upon, maimed, disfigured, feared, abandoned, misunderstood, brutalized,  mutilated, violated, objectified, not seen, defiled, conquered, passed over, invalidated, down trodden, beaten down, raped, tortured, and demonized, I am sorry.


And for every time, despite it all, that you have survived, managed, flourished, supported, been present, birthed, raised, grieved, sheltered, counseled, consoled, healed, nurtured, nourished, soothed, danced backwards (and in heels), stood up, spoke up, protected, taught, created, graced, empowered, and loved, I am grateful beyond words. 


Blessed be the women.  Blessed are you.


I see you.  I recognize you.  I honor, embrace, and celebrate you.  Let healing begin here.  Let healing begin now.  I stand fully present before you, offering you my hand.  Let us dance.

Days of Thunder

I have an adopted little sister whom I love dearly.  As she works on the other end of the clock than I do, it's hard to schedule time together and so I hardly ever used to get to see her.  Then we hit upon an idea 2 or 3 months ago where once a week she comes and spends a lunch hour with me.  It's not perfect -- we both still have had scheduling challenges from time to time -- but we have an anchor, one day a week that we aim for.

We originally met at a drum circle a while back (and as synchronicity would have it, learned to make our own Native American style drums from the same teacher, whom my sister still works with), and so during one of these lunch hours one of us said, "We should drum!"  The following week we both brought our drums and had a very thunderous, high energy, incredible lunch time.  It was probably my best lunch break ever!

And so it has continued since then -- our private, little, weekly drum circle.  What has occurred to me in just the past week or so is that, in another act of synchronicity, the day that we happen to meet is Thursday (Thor's Day), the day of the week named for Thor - Norse God of Thunder.  And our Thursdays are thunderous indeed! 

I love cross-cultural/mythological synchronicities!