Year 42

It’s ancestor season, and now that Beth’s gone my life is settling into the kind of re-translation that only happens when those closest to your soul can be with, and witness, all of you.  In this I am so blessed.

bethie me

We woke up last Monday tummies still full from Thrasher’s and Dumser’s my head just full of salt.  The final week of second seeeaasunnn did not disappoint and I was mesmerized by the Timing of Beth’s arrival with the peak week of October sun.  It was new moon that day, we went to the community garden, and sure enough basil and late bloom lavender coming in.  Besides the thyme that is the centerpiece in my garden, I couldn’t have two other herbs that are closer familiars so for them, untended, to be so fertile under the final harvest cycle’s moon…

Again.  The dizzy way my heart is touched by the smallest blessings, and in these walking tiny miracles, I place all Faith.

It has been a year of horrible fuckery and I am not in the least talking about culturally.  The fertility moon that kicks off growing season I got to lead the ritual of marriage in a sacred Los Angeles oak grove for the single sister in my life that tends the darkest depths with breadth and width the same scope as me.  Later that night full moon dreamy white on the valley center of fields of flowers and trees, while at their wedding reception, I got the text from my A.M.Y. that her brother had odeed.   It was 10 days after Gretchen, my recovery mentor of 14 years, the women literally responsible for keeping me responsible to the woman I am and continue to become, had died. With these back to back losses so close to the heart of my own very personal walking resurrection…Honestly I don’t remember anything until July, the new moon prior to first harvest, when I tapped out and went back to earth for a week.  To remember how to breathe.

Beth knew my Gretchen very well.  Was in fact a mentor of sorts to her.  Today on facebook–Beth also is an avid devotee of FB, which re-opened my heart in a way I didn’t expect to beauty of that platform, the gift of 2018 and having a 10 year documentary of my own life, and the life of like everyone I have ever freakin loved and cared about–right there in digital form–anyway digression aside today on FB there was a picture of me at the white wolf sanctuary where she Gretchen spent so very much of her time.

This I found while the ancestor candle burns on my alter, giving so very much love and thanks to her.  Her memory, her legacy.  My deepest honor.

white wolf

White wolf pic.  Wolf medicine is teacher.  The wolf pin forgetful gave me, on the medicine bag my A.M.Y. made me years ago.  Reminds me always–since my awakening to the women’s work came in the form of Women Who Run With Wolves–that God blessed me to serve the world with this good work, at least my little corner of it.  How I actively work each day to make and remake it because if you were given a gift the best way to say thanks is by using it as much as you can.  How none of it would have happened, all those years of only trusting my inner guide as my light towards the women’s work, without Gretchen.  Always:  keep going.

One of the axioms of the women’s wisdom way is cycles of 7.  Seven years ago right now I was living in my car in Norcal, just starting my California Adventure.  About to total that car, on the phone with Gretchen, driving up the 101 in the season’s first rain. Spinning out and getting knocked out, coming to in oncoming traffic. It was how Mama California initiated me in.  Forced me to give up everything with which I’d came.

In March I’ll complete my 7th 7 year cycle.  Year 42 will complete. I am living, actively, my best life ever right now.  I look around, my world.  My Tribe.  Lord mama my Tribe.  How deep.  How real, true.   How sure and sound.  Guess what? Being human includes an awful, awful lot of fuckery.  It just does.  White wolf medicine.  Medicine of faith, and unconditional love.  The medicine of teaching, which is just being open with how you live.

Choosing this, day after day.  Faith so often is very simple.  I think of my mom.  The ring she gave me on my first year sober anniversary.  With the feet.  Bc, feet don’t fail me now.  Feet don’t fail me now.

Just keep going.

No matter what~