joyfinderhero | Entries tagged with priestess

Many years ago ... 2000, I think it was ... some of us spent a week with Inanna in her journey to the Underworld. I remember the garments, tools, and badges of office that she had to shed at each of the seven gates. I recall her devastating conversation with her older sister, Ereshkigal, that ended with Inanna's lifeless body hanging from a meathook.

In all the work of that summer, I never imagined that one day I would be aspecting Erishkegal. (The spellings are interchangeable, depending on which source I look at. Must be the transliteration of an ancient Sumerian language about which I know too little).

Earlier this month I was asked to invite the Queen of the Underworld to speak through me. My dreams have been haunted, heated, aggressive, demanding. My sleep has been disturbed. Several times I have found myself moving part way into Aspect while rolling over in momentary wakefulness.

Today was the day.

Even though I was also responsible for significant and unpredictable logistical solutions, both before and during the work, I found myself Present to Her in a way I have not experienced before, not even when Aspecting other deities.

Part of it is that the Assembly's methodology is very different from the Reclaiming technique I have used over the years. Part of it is the much longer dwell time between assignment and fulfillment. But I think lots of it is just Who Erishkigal is, and a lot of the rest is just what the assignment was.

My assignment was to not take no for an answer. To demand that the central figure stretch and grow, move into action and change, step firmly out of a comfort zone long established. The central figure's chief challenge is a tendency to intellectualize and to over-verbalize. Does this sound familiar?

It's only a few hours later, and already my experience of Her is fading. But here is what I recall of what she said, every word of which seemed aimed at my own heart:

* You have courage, and courage will not be enough.
* You must trust the process. It is not enough to trust your well-educated brain, your logical structure.
* The arrogance of your confidence in your own intellect is the single biggest block to your greater psychic experience and power.
* When you find yourself in chaos, you still look for answers to 'why' and 'how' questions; no matter what is asked of you, you have been seeking to 'figure it out.' What if the 'answer' cannot be 'figured'?
* Too often I see you choosing to drown, holding tight to the burdens of your upbringing, your thoughts, your analytical habits, even though by letting them go you would be able to float free.
* Too often I see you choosing to attempt to control what cannot be controlled, to negotiate with forces that give no quarter, to bargain instead of boldly stepping forward.

Other deities were present, their voices swirling about me. One that I heard said, "Survival is not guaranteed. If you are to earn rebirth you will need to give up everything you hold dear, you will need to trust yourself in a new way. If you try to hold onto the old ways you will surely perish." Later that same voice said, "What is it that you are promising to do now? If you don't tell me this I will slay you here."

What would it mean to experience my own feelings at the level at which I was experiencing Erishkegal's? What would it mean to live my life in such a clear and focused place?

It is hours later, the house is quiet, and I am bone tired. And much enlightened by the Princess of Darkness.

Blessed Be.

It's been a fine celebratory time 'round here. Sept 18 I got a new grandkid, one Tallulah Grace, who is gorgeous in every way. Oct 1 I got to meet her and teach my son the fine art of calming the fussy baby by first quieting one's own breathing, become a non-anxious presence as you help the baby become non-anxious. She's lovely, charming, not at all 'fussy,' but she hasn't yet figured out how to go to sleep except by nursing. So if she finishes a feeding by filling a diaper, she then gets a few minutes of 'help me, I don't know how to do this.' During which we walk and bounce and sing, until suddenly she falls bonelessly into sleep.

I had a fine week with them and then an amazing weekend doing volunteer work, supporting the current group of first-year students at my grad school. It was great to be back in the energy of soul-centered education again. I am delighted to find that I can do the work with ease and grace, so I can look forward to doing it for the rest of this school year, one weekend a month.

Landed a California sublet so I can reduce my coast-to-coast commuting and spend more time in grandmothering, probably beginning Dec 1.

Officiated, with some of my Weird Sisters, at a wedding over the weekend. Found myself in hyperfocus as I gave the couple their vows. Lots to think about.

And then yesterday was my 65th birthday! Congratulate me, I became Medicare eligible while we still have Medicare. Also got some lovely comfort food and have plans afoot for a couple of peak-experience birthday presents from Dear Husband.

We're both really trying just now, spending focused time together, offering hugs, dancing, checking preferences with each other.

Life goes on.

So, now that we're in port again, one possible plan for Daily Practice looks like this:

Get up, brush teeth, drink water.

Do yoga at least 10 minutes, ending with Deep Relaxation for 1-5 minutes.

Sit in the godform position (familiar from all those Pharaoh statues), do 4-2-4 breathing, open one chakra, meditate 10-20 minutes on a Seed Thought or Koan.

Make tea. Turn on computer.

Another part of Daily Practice this month is beginning to develop a Sunday Worship service around Daily Practice. Our preliminary discussions suggest it might be the UU usual: invocation, introit, opening hymn, offertory, etc, with sermon (by me) and reflection (by another worship associate), closing hymn, closing words. But what if I want to actually DO some 'daily practice' in this one-off venue as visiting clergy?

For starters, perhaps we should import the Ringing of the Bell, which in our home congregation signals the end of Announcements and Welcoming Comments and the beginning of 'Let us worship together.'

There are dozens of Daily Practices that could be brought to people's attention, whether by description or by demonstration.

One local author (I think -- better check this) has suggested that a profoundly Unitarian Universalist personal practice could be memorizing uplifting poetry. I haven't actually tried this as a daily practice, but I bet she's right.

My parents-in-law used to have a daily practice of Checking Off the Calendar, putting a large red X through another day just before turning on the ten o'clock news.

My mom used to have a daily practice of singing bedtime songs to the assembled children in the bedroom of the youngest just before Lights Out -- the same 4 or 5 songs every night, and then 1 or 2 others by request, for more than a decade that I remember.

A young opera student I know has a Daily Practice of singing arias first thing in the morning, in full voice.

One of my teachers suggests keeping a Gratitude Journal, a nightly writing of at least one thing you are grateful for.

All of these could be examples of 'what you focus your attention on, you become.'

Meditation comes to mind at once, of various kinds. Yoga can be a daily practice. So can exercise. Katherine Hepburn -- do young people still watch her movies? -- made a daily practice of swimming in the sea no matter what the weather. Did it for years in Long Island Sound off the coast of Connecticut where she lived.

Most middleclass Americans make a daily practice of brushing their teeth, at least, and many of them also brush hair, paint on makeup, dress and armor themselves for the workplace. How does that shape their days?

And then there's the opposite of Daily Practice: chaos, sloth, breaking commitments -- whatever is 'opposite' for each of us, I suspect.

The Work of Making Our Lives goes on in every second, every minute, hour, day ... if we engage ourselves in a Daily Practice that brings us into focus, our Lives are made in a focused way. If we engage ourselves in following the path of least resistance or being pushed around by mass-media information overload, our Lives are made in a different, perhaps less-focused way. But whether we make a commitment to Daily Practice or not, our Lives will be made. Whether we keep our commitments -- to practice, to one another, to our word, whatever -- or not, our Lives WILL be made. And the Work of making our Lives is much altered by the quality of our daily practices, whether chosen consciously or unconsciously, whether chosen with close attention and intention, or not.

When first beginning a Daily Practice, many things arise that may be familiar to folks who have quit, or tried to quit, 'bad habits.' Backsliding and falling down are typical and not problematic. It doesn't matter whether you trip and fall, what matters is how soon and how smoothly you can get back up. And, to some extent, how long you can stay up before you fall again.

So maybe I'm on a roll here. More to think about as I go about the rest of the day.

Current Location: in port

This was actually written a month ago, in response to the invitation below. Since these ideas continue to roll around in my head, occasionally lifting an eyebrow as if to ask 'what are you doing about this?' ... I figure I better post it here.

The Witch

Knock. Knock. Knock. Someone is at your door. You have eaten, cleared the dishes, and readied for bed. Who would come knocking at this late hour? Who is it standing there under the full moon's beacon in the high night wind? You cautiously open the door. Before you stands the witch. What do you feel about this person on your threshold?

            For this exercise, consider that you are the author of a piece of writing with a witch in it. The witch is standing behind you as you write, dictating how he/she should be presented. What is the witch telling you? Is it a list of rules? A monologue? A story in itself? Random thoughts and phrases? A recipe?

            The Witch. She stands behind me, looking over my shoulder. She plays with my hair while she watches what I am doing.

            The Witch. She sits in my lap, snuggling for warmth. She reaches for the food on my plate.

            The Witch. She stands before the mirror at midnight. She stares into my eyes and wonders if I can see her. I wonder if she can see me.

            She blinks. I hesitate. Something's happening.

The Witch looks out the window, watching the dark woodland as the wind blows. The moon, just rising, lights the faces of the streaming clouds as they flee beyond the thrashing trees. By its light her face is thinly reflected in the glass. Behind her, the mirror shows my face.

Something's happening.

I've waited a long time for you, she says. You're older than I expected. What were you doing with all that time? No, don't tell me; I'm sure you thought it was important, or someone else did. Or you thought someone else did. It doesn't matter anyway; you're here now, and time is all Now to me.

I listen, spellbound. She turns, regards me. Am I to speak? Apparently not, for no words come.

At least you're healthy, she says, and complete. Last time we met you'd already lost a leg, a breast, most of your wind and a great deal of your disposition. Why was that, I wonder? --No, never mind. You don't remember anyway. It was a long time ago, and that wench has been dead these many centuries.

A shadow zips through my mind and is gone before I can catch it. Was that an owl hooting? the smell of woodsmoke? Did I see a speckled mirror hanging from a nail?

Sit down, she says, and a chair appears in the gloom. My chair, the pink silk I inherited from Griffin Lovelace's wife. The chair I lost in 1969.

I sit; what else can I do?

We've much to accomplish, she says, and time is short. You've much to do before death claims you this time.

             She gives her attention to the hearth a moment. I sit silent. Ideas and images float chaotically inside my head; my awareness feels speeded up and jumbled. I remember ...

             I remember Katie asking me, "What would you do, if you knew you could not fail?"
             ("Write the 'Great American Novel'," I said. A host of other things flew out of my mouth after that -- the seminar that would revolutionize teenage angst and bring accelerated maturity, reduced pain, improved self-confidence, greater freedom to the youth who were willing to do the work; the movie, the book, the public-speaking career, the ashram, the yoga practice, the sailboat. Dozens of dreams I hadn't allowed myself to know came flooding out.

That list is still there. I know where it is. I could look it up.)

I remember Chris telling me I was in charge here, though I'd forgotten it was my turn to lead.

(And the wonderful group Tarot reading we manifested, in the sacred space we created at my direction, that people still tell me about).

I remember my shocked delight the moment a piece of homework from grad school turned into 125 pages of useful and fascinating material.

I remember beginning to write poetry in an online class ... and the strange sensation of finding a different 'myself' at the keyboard. It's happening again, this awareness of a different 'myself.'

Are you willing? she asks. Don't tell me if you're not -- it won't do you any good. The time for saying No is past. But look within yourself: Are you willing? And if you find that you're willing, then look again: Are you ready? Do you choose to focus your attention? Do you choose to pay the price? Do you imagine you can choose to ask the price first, and then decide? or will you just commit yourself? Which will it be, then? No, don't tell me -- it's not me you need to answer.

Be clear, she says, for clarity is all that will serve you now. Speak only what is true and certain. Say only what you choose to manifest, for your every word has power in this place. As it does, as it has, in all of your life -- as you know by now. Be clear; be honest; speak wisely and well.

You must work daily, she says, watching me with narrowed eyes. Each day that you skip practice presents an opportunity for the work to fail. You must work this each day, the dailiness is part of the work. And the deeper truth is, you are working each day whether you do the work or not. Practice shapes the day in one way, and unpractice shapes the day in another way, and both ways forge the work as it goes forward. You must choose, and choose again, though the time for choosing otherwise has long passed.

You must focus, for if you do not then the work will be fuzzy and unkempt. Each time you are wayward the work will be made waywardly. Choose focus, and then choose again.

You must persist, for the work will still need doing if you do not do it; and if you do not do it, you will return to have it to do again. Choose persistence, and then persist, and then choose again.

She stirs the fire she has made, and the flames leap up. By their light I see that her gown is blue, not the black I had imagined in the darkness.

Have you listened deeply enough? she asks. Can you smell what the work is, yet? Is there any doubt in your heart or mind or spirit or body? Do you doubt that you know what the work must be? doubt that you can do it? doubt that it is time, and past time, to begin it? Do you know, yet, how challenging the work is? (and how much harder it would be to 'not do' it?)

I nod, still dumbstruck. I know exactly what the work is. I know exactly my place in the work. It is the place that has been mine all my Life -- this life, and the one before it, and the one before it, and the one before that. Not one single word of it forms in my mouth, but I know it.

The fire quiets. She turns her back to me, her blue robe sending a purple shadow along the floor.

A bird flies across the face of the quarter moon. The fire buzzes and hums. Music sings in my imagination's ear, or memory's: "Give yourself to Love, if love is what you're after ..." and then "It's in every one of us to be wise, find your strength, open up both your eyes ... " and then "You are the crown of creation ..." and then the singing fades, and I am left with an orchestra in my head -- Rhapsody in Blue, and Take Five, and the drums of Babatunde Olatunji. I am crying; I wipe my face.

When I raise my head she is gone. The woods are quiet, and then absent. I'm sitting in the cabin of a small sailboat, at anchor in a sunlit harbor, this computer on my knees.

Already my experience of her is fading, but I don't seek to edit it. Every word is the plain truth.

NorthLight, March 13, 2007, 6:15 pm.

Yikes.

<^>
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Current Mood: awestruck
Current Location: overstuffed chair on g'g'mother's rug
Current Music: MinervaCat crunching at her food dish

angelweed posted this after posting his great answers to

bellamagic, ... and I said 'Interview me' and he asked his questions ...

And I spent about an hour writing a reply online … And lost it in the wifi haze … and so here's the reconstructed version. Maybe it's tighter and better, maybe there's something important missing, only the goddess of cyberspace may know (or not).

1. How did you become a Pagan? A priestess?

Becoming a Pagan …

    Serendipity, like many of the good things in my life. A cup of coffee led to a conversation about personal growth work ... a seminar led to amazing new awareness about the ways I block myself ... a fellow attendee told a warm lovely story about Womongathering ... I decided on the spur of the moment to go, got lost, slept outside the gate overnight in my car ... found a flyer about Witch Camp on a table ... landed at SpiralHeart in the year of Apples of Idun.

    Learned a lot about myself from Path work, opened a different channel inside my head at one of the evening rituals. Kept a journal of dreams for a little while which still reads like the start of an amazing journey.

    Back in my regular mundane life I met a stranger at a book-signing in a cute little local bookstore I’d never visited before in the town we’d just moved to. She invited me to a class in the basement of a local church I’d never heard of. Cakes for the Queen of Heaven, one of the adult religious education curricula offered by the Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations.

When the 10-week class was over, I had found: a lifelong bestfriend and several lifelong friends; a whole new way of thinking about divinity, deity, God-ness; more feminist history and evidence of lost things; within the year, a congregation to belong to in an 'organized religion' that didn't make me squick.. After class ended, about half of us formed a loose ‘women’s spirituality’ group that met for more than a couple of years. Two of us are still meeting, along with another who joined us later.

It was a couple of years before I said I was a ‘witch’, however, and longer than that before I used the word ‘pagan.’

Becoming a Priestess …

Sometime in the first couple of years I began to step into / feel nudged into the position of “she who has more experience than the rest of us.” Coming back from witchcamp I would always have things to share – tell about, demonstrate, try out – and the folks in our spirituality group were always willing to try it, debrief it, modify it. A CUUPS chapter formed, I joined the UU Congregation, I began taking my turn at leading ritual … and then leading Sunday Morning ritual for Samhain and Beltane (the May Pole being a lovely draw).

A moment came when our chapter was asked by a neighboring congregation to come do a ‘demonstration ritual’ for Sunday morning as they began looking to form a CUUPS chapter. Two of us visited on a random Sunday, talked with the planners, reported back to our CUUPSfolks. Six or so of us began to plan a ritual. And then our home congregation scheduled a Major Big Event for the same Sunday morning. It was too late to ask our hosts to find a substitute service, but we also wanted most of us to be in attendance at home. It ended up that I led the ritual, solo – and was received as a huge success. ‘Aha!’ said a voice inside, ‘so THIS is what you came for!’

After grad school (MA in Spiritual Psychology, 2001), my grad-school roommate asked if I would officiate at her wedding. I got myself credentials through the Ministry of Universal Acceptance, and did. During that experience I discovered the river of energy that runs through Pastoral Counseling and found that I could only participate in the service if I also participated in the pre-marriage conversation (so I’m more like a ‘minister’ and less like a ‘justice of the peace’ in terms of 'marrying ‘em'). In the moment of “by the power vested in me by Spirit and the State of Texas …” I reached my hand up into a palpable swirl of the current of spiritual fulfilment and grabbed up a loop of it. I brought it over the heads of the Happy Couple and into the center of our trio. 'Aha! said a voice inside, 'so THAT's where It Lives!'

Sometime not long after that I said out loud that I was a Priestess.

I noticed a few things:

-- in the moment of saying it out loud, something went ‘kachunk’ in my head and another new channel of input opened up.

-- in the moment of saying it out loud to another person, something shifted in my body.

-- since then I have often felt like an open channel for Spirit … or one that needed to be consciously re-opened by meditation, depending.

2. What three things do you most love about your husband?

My Dear Husband is the brightest, most innovative thinker it has been my privilege to know up close. His input is always valuable and his viewpoint unique in our conversations. He is open to my suggestions and often solicits my advice, twisting and turning it until it opens a new avenue for his line of thinking. Conversations with him are usually fun, especially around intellectual abstractions and around engineering design or diagnosis.

DH is generally a serene and patient presence in my life, open to lots of freedom for each of us to have our own experiences and make our own choices. Rarely has he felt threatened about anything I’ve done. Still more rarely has he ever asked me not to do it.

DH is a generous and playful companion under a vast array of circumstances. He has a great and refreshing store of courage and is also plagued by terrifying fear and occasional cowardice, just as I am – and we usually take turns. I dunno as I’ve ever experienced both of us being in fear at the same time, which is lovely.

Also, at 27 and still now at not-quite-60, he has beautiful legs!

3. How do the Florida/New Jersey migrations work? (Answer about mechanics, spirit, and/or emotions, as you wish.)

Mechanics: Sometime after Thanksgiving we load up the stationwagon and take three 8-hour days and two random-motel overnights to get back to the boat. During the winter I may fly home (or elsewhere) for one or two specific events, and then back. The first year we did this I was on the boat 6 weeks; this year (#3) it’s been 14. In the spring I fly home to get back into my northern life, attend camp, teach here and there … and DH stays on the boat, doing whatever projects have come up and enjoying lots of solo restauranting (which he loves). Sometime during hurricane season he’ll probably come north to visit, though he became a Florida resident a couple of years ago and gets back here at least a couple of times during the summer.

Spirit: most of my spiritual practice is much changed aboard. The space is so small it’s hard to have a fixed altar, for example, as the same tiny table serves as desk, kitchen counter, dining table, altar during ritual, and catch-all for glasses and keys. There’s no privacy, so anything I want to do must either be silent or willing to be seen and heard by a non-participant, as my DH is pretty much of a muggle (witchcamp and Starwood attendance notwithstanding). Many of my artistic pursuits don’t fit on the boat atall, so some of my spiritual practice just starves. And, though I've occasionally looked up colleagues and local CUUPSfolk, generally there's not much likemindedness in the harbor (at least, that I've been able to discover. Maybe we're all in the broom closet together).

Sometimes this is amusing, too. At Full and New moons I’m often advised to ‘go outside, into the natural world – visit the land.’ And, well, here on a mooring ball or at anchor I’m right in the middle of the natural world, sky and sea, wind and spray, no attempt at ‘climate control’ whatever … AND visiting the ‘land’ can be pretty problematic if the dinghy is elsewhere.. ‘Pick up a stone’ takes an a whole new meaning when the nearest ‘stone’ is either miles away (most of the keys are sand and crushed coral) or ten feet under harbor water (for which read: brackish plus dishwater plus diesel spills plus occasional sewage - ick).

Emotions: The transition points are hard, though at least by now I know to expect this. I struggle with loss – in the fall, the losses are: friends, partners, my UU community, my CUUPSfolks, my CovenSisters, the cat who sleeps on my bed (and will take a week to forgive me when I eventually return); the loom, the altar, the comfortable office with the expansive desk, comfortable chairs (there are NONE on a small boat), spacious bed, hot baths, reliable refrigeration, silk painting, woodworking, painting on anything but a small scale, pottery; the freedom of being a two-car family instead of a one-car, one-dinghy couple.

In the spring, the losses are: togetherness, the companionship of being a one-car family, being rocked to sleep each night (to a different rhythm each night depending on wind and waves), cruiser-net every morning (radio talk among our whole harbor of friends), the physical challenges and joys of sailing, sun, saltwater, brilliant turquoise vistas and a far horizon, warm easy weather (70s-80s year round at halfpast the Florida keys).

Usually there is tension for a week or two around each transition, and then I find the new rhythm and begin to enjoy what’s here. This goes better when I’m conscious of ‘looking forward to’ and planning ahead – so now, for example, I’ve started making notes for painting and papier mache and weaving projects for a couple of weeks from now. After unpacking and laundry and catching up with people.

4. What is your favorite innocent pleasure (other than sex)? Something you do for fun rather than self-improvement, and which you feel good about doing.

Favorite? I try not to do forced ranking – and besides, it changes.

Weaving, especially if there’s a skeletal plan with a lot of freedom in it. Silk-painting. Snuggling humans. Snuggling fur-bearing people. Standing head down in a long self-indulgent hot shower until the last tension has left. Swimming. Sailing on a broad reach in a smooth sea. Dancing … which is probably ‘favorite’ most often, and which I’m eager to get back to when I get home.

5. What question have I left out that you wish I'd asked?

Hmm. Just at present anything I said in reply to this one would open a can of worms, mainly because I’m in ‘pack and leave tomorrow’ mode. Ask me again after tax day, though; there’s probably something here to chew on.

---

If you want to play too:

1. leave me a comment saying, "interview me."
2. i respond by asking you five personal questions so i can get to know you better.
3. update your l.j. with the answers to the questions.
4. include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the post.
5. when others comment asking to be interviewed, ask them five questions.

Love and light and lots of laughter to you all -- especially, today, to you who started this thread.

Current Mood: calm
Current Location: Orion on mooring
Current Music: Diesel charging batteries

With great thanks to

firedancer_ny for sparking this thought ...

Sometimes our American modern lives of doing / multi-tasking / information-seeking behaviors mislead us, and we forget the great animal joy of just being together.

We humans don't really get together 'in order to' do some activity, at least, not always. Usually it's the other way around: the actual purpose of this activity is 'being together.' As in "come over for dinner / coffee / a drink / breakfast / lunch / tea". (It's not the meal that's the reason.) Even building our barn -- yes, we want the barn, but more than that, the shared project is a focus for months of dinner-table conversation.

This is also what 'talking about the weather' is about. Back in the 1970s, I once had the pleasure of escorting the 'big boss' and spouse through a 250-person company picnic; it was my job to know names, speak first, make introductions. Both boss and spouse said the usual things -- 'how nice to meet you / see you again" and so on. Often the boss would say something complimentary to the employee, or to the employee's spouse about the employee. Equally often the boss's spouse would say something about the weather.

Soon I was struck by how natural they both seemed, saying essentially the same thing to dozens of people for a couple of hours, always seeming fresh and to be speaking directly to each person.

Finally I got it. 'Talking about the weather' was a way of saying more than 'hello' before moving on; an excuse to stay in contact a little longer without feeling awkwardly silent or happening to choose an awkward subject for conversation. In energetic terms (which I wouldn't have known about, on a conscious level, in those days), this charming and personable couple were creating opportunities for valued employees to stand together with them, sharing one another's auras until the brief interchange felt complete, so that the employees could feel appropriately valued by the boss and the employees' spouses could see that this was so.

Which brings me suddenly to Chaplain work. We visit the hospital patient or nursing-home resident, someone we hardly know. We chat a little, perhaps, but mostly what is wanted is our listening ear, or our warmhearted presence; the evidence we can provide that the person we are visiting is still 'here,' still cared for, that the person still matters. Sometimes, of course, a person wants spiritual guidance; but even there, usually they want to talk out their hopes, fears, guilts, dreams ... and feel validated by our response. They want this MUCH more often than they want us to 'tell' them what we think will happen after death.

Often all that is needed is our presence, our 'company.'

It's a bit like "play therapy," used by psychotherapists with very young children. The rules of play therapy are simple: Be present. Pay attention. Answer direct questions as simply and as 'in the moment' as possible. Respond neutrally. Validate experience. Avoid interpretation.

Not a bad way to be with our friends, too, come to think of it.

When I am being most effective as a hospice volunteer, I often don't say much of anything. If the person wants to talk, I listen with intense focus. If the person then stops talking, I may say something intelligent like "and what's present now?" For many folks, there isn't anything I "know" that they need to hear. What they need is to know that I'm present with them as they walk through this tough bit. That I won't turn away if they complain. That I won't flinch away if their illness makes them smell bad -- or if they fart. That it's okay if they squeeze my hand really hard when something hurts. That they don't need to 'entertain' me.

Sometimes the person doesn't want to talk, or can't talk much. Some folks like to watch TV ... and they like it better when they can watch TV with someone beside them. Some folks want to be sung to.

Some folks will ask me to tell them about my grandchildren, my day, my seminary courses, what I'm weaving.... is that because they really want to know? because they want the sound of my voice? because they want something (anything) to distract them from whatever they're thinking about? Sometimes, of course, I notice I imagine that it's because my life is so fascinating (!). Usually I think it's because they want company, and we have a social paradigm that assumes we have to be 'doing something' or 'talking' or else people will think they're not wanted.

I always bring a book, in case I need to reassure someone that I have 'something to do' so I 'won't be bored.' I often bring crocheting or embroidery, something I can work on without great concentration, show off and talk about if they want to know, and put down at a moment's notice without having to worry about it.

Mostly I'm just 'there' -- or 'there just in case,' as with the person who sleeps nearly all the time but occasionally needs help. Sometimes the whole thing is just 'being there' -- the Ministry of Presence.

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Tending Joy

Being Ereshkigal

Hippo Birdie Two Me

Dailiness

The Witch

Interview meme, the sacred in my life

The Ministry of 'Presence'

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