Surfacing

Perched on the cusp of this Scorpio full moon and I can't help but wonder. I read that the symbol for such a moon is a dentist hard at work: deep, difficult and painful, drilling away at decay. This cycle from new moon to full has been THAT. And yet I awakened at 4:00 this morning with ideas for website additions and workshop offerings of a 3-part Soulscape series. I turned on a small light above the bed and joyously scribbled notes. Then came the core of a query letter to my agent on a book I've been pondering. I eventually fell back to sleep and dreamed of laying naked next to a loving man; a sensual sweet scene of touch and talk. I rolled over, gazed into his eyes and said, "Do you know that I dream about you?" Then I woke up.

I'm leaving morass behind as the knot of divorce painstakingly unravels. I prepare for my talk in Taos May 8th on the "Wild Sacred." I smile at outlandish thoughts of hitting the road with my trailer, Alaska-bound, stopping along the way to visit 'sisters' in Montana and British Colombia.

In the midst of trauma one tends to forget that soul creates the conditions through which we need to evolve.

Surfacing, yes; no longer held down by the weight of indecision. I rise from the dead zone into the meadowlark's morning song. I am given a dream of holy, sensual communion with my male side. Hmmmmm, he didn't look like a dentist to me.

Silent Wings to Guide

It was a ten-hour marathon on Sunday. Tom and I gathered the numbers and enough courage to sit down at the antique Formica kitchen table and fill out the 20-plus pages of additional divorce forms that the court required. All the bills and debts; all the $ in accts. And the plan. How would we ultimately end the union in terms of dollars and property? Some forms, like the separation agreement we filled out together, one copy signed by both. Others, like financial disclosure we did separately but at the same time so the numbers would match. It was a day of ink and an occasional pause button when we broke for lunch, short walks and 10-min naps. And, we did it. It wasn't predictable, given a screaming session that had taken place just 24-hrs hence and my threat to hire a lawyer over joint funds Tom had received and transferred with no consultation. As in, hello? A check for half. Now! But on Sunday, as Mercury scraped her way into retrograde, we rose to the occasion and did the hard work.

I left the house numb. Body blitzed, mind fused to exhaustion as I grabbed a jacket and started down the dirt two track on a walk. Dusk had fallen. I was too tired to even cry. As I returned to the trailer a Great Horned Owl flew low to the ground, spread his wings and landed on a fencepost not 20 feet away. He cocked his head and stretched his neck as he began to hoot. I stood mesmerized; couldn't help but remember the sign I had asked for when I was in that sandstone canyon. Great Horned Owls herald new cycles and change. They are among those animals with the keenest vision, able to penetrate the veil of darkness and discern movement amidst the tiniest glint of light. Two weeks earlier I had stepped outside and discovered a 4-inch long owl pellet that had been dropped by a Great Horned perched directly over the door. Owl, messenger counterpart of the moon goddess Artemis, come to guide and reassure. And lift me from morass.

The next day Tom and I reviewed the forms and drove 20 miles to the court house to file them together. They included a non-appearance form. We do not have to be present when the case is reviewed. The divorce will be final on or around summer solstice.

I walked from the court house to a little jewelry store where I picked up an antique Navajo ring I had taken for repair. It had needed two pieces of turquoise in-lay and I had searched for a year for someone to do the work. Now it was done, as beauty-full as ever. I slid it down my right ring finger. It possessed all the comfort and power of an old friend. Now the tears could roll.

Canyon Shakedown

I can only conclude that divorce is good for the blood pressure. It measured 112/77 at the dentist's office yesterday. To top it off my nasty little gum pockets in between my teeth had all reduced in size. I've slept like a baby for two nights in a row with no dreams that I recall. I've awakened fresh to fight my demons. Yes, there's a war going on 'tween body and soul. Soul says I'm sending you out to some rough rock cliffs to do battle as the body says, 'yes and you will feel good and rested and never look better!'

I was utterly alone on yesterday's new moon hike into the sandstone canyons, on what could only be called a death march. I climbed down to a east facing sun-soaked ledge that i might sit and hear the voices of the ancients. But there were none. No signs, either. I was left to dangle in the shadow of my own repeating loops. I sat. Waiting. My new pair of Nikon binocs in my hand and not a bird showed up. It was akin to spirit's big 'fuck you.' I sat beneath a raven-less sky. Reached for my journal and stared out into the silence for what felt like eons. Then I scribbled:

all the words and birds
all the photos
and orgasms
come to
nothing.

me. nothing. I stared down the canyon of the ancients, a narrow ribbon of water snaking through her cleft. My desperate eyes sought the prints of the bare footed children who once roamed these haunted passages. My ears sought cries, laughter, any proof of life once lived. There was only the wind.

That's where my mind was was as I sat in the dentist's chair and received the good news. It wasn't the numbers that surprised me. My BP has always been low and I've never taken regular prescription meds. What humbled me was my response. That I was so damned happy. Spirit had dragged my sorry ass along that canyon floor and any good news would do.

I want my groove back. To rise like the sun, full of fierce beauty. Yes, I know. It will take more time and tears. But my my teeth are clean. I'm ready.

Skinned Alive

Well that was a sweet little traipse through hell and back. One week of purge as the old moon whittled away to nada. A span of time that began with watching bands of color glint across my room. Red, green, yellow, blue, deep violet rainbows compliments of the prism that hangs by a string in the east window. A pen that scribbled notes of my water-spider ways, skimming along my divorce-pack-and-sort days until I hit a wall of sadness with no choice but to stop and sob. Days that bore mention in my journal of my body oozing wet with such abandon I feared I would end up a puddle on the ground. Akin to a caterpillar chrysalis that liquefies, waiting for form that will burst the walls and fly forth in spring. All nicely poetic to this point.

And then it hit. The tsunami of purge. A gastrointestinal bug of such violence I threw up every two feet as I made my way indoors. This baby summoned every orifice to complete the cleanse. For days. No food in; liquid out. Hopes and hates projectiled god knows where. Dreams and schemes. Guilt and guts. Some days I could not lift myself from the morass. Other days I made my way upstairs to continue the work of divorce. Psyche grabbed whatever branches presented themselves as I ripped downstream. A plan, any plan, to give form. Friends organizing a trip to Cuba...did I want to come? A raft trip down the San Juan? A speaking engagement in Taos? I grabbed and let go; took on water, spewed it out.

I awakened this morn to a zillion stars, a thin waning moon and a whole new respect. This dark of the moon didn't just peel away a layer or two. She skinned me alive---split me down the middle, grabbed my flesh and yanked it down and off. There is nothing dreamy about it.