Gifts of the Season: Imbolc 2024

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I WILL BE BLOGGING HERE AND AT SUBSTACK until I determine which site I want to continue with. Both have positive traits. What I love about Substack is the supportive writer’s community.

My husband, David, and I started a new ritual that came out of Beth Kempton {Life. This is it, friends.}class. We take turns sharing a piece of poetry, or music, maybe an image or a spiritual quote and then we write for fifteen minutes. Our level of sharing has deepened, and I am grateful for this new way of being together. 

David is 100 percent disabled Vietnam era Vet and his health is precarious. We have been together for 45 years, my entire adult life, from nineteen on. He has been the only constant in my life. Finding newness in a long-term relationship is a precious gift. 

Today we shared our thoughts on Imbolc. This is my favorite Celtic holiday on the Wheel of the Year. It’s very much a liminal space, an in-between where something is ending but the next part of the journey has not been realized. It carries the energy of completion and the energy of new beginnings. I imagine this sacred time like standing in a doorway. The door behind me is open and there is a path before me, but I have not yet stepped on to it. It is filled with endless possibilities.

As a Tarot reader, the card that comes to mind as I type, is the image of the Ace of Wands. The Aces are new beginnings—it is the buds unfurling. The suit of Wands carry the energy of movement, fire, creativity, and passion. The energy that pushes the tender shoots up from the earth is a dynamic force, an unseen force (This is depicted in the hand coming out of the clouds) that is also within us, as we too are a part of nature. It addresses the feral aspects we often keep tucked away but this energy also contains our personal power. This is not a power over, it is an inner, primal strength that is our birth right. It is our connection to nature. And the Great Mysteries, which are birth, death and re-birth.  

Imbolc is a bit of a paradox. We are reminded to give ourselves the gift of rest and renewal that winter offers but it also asks us to notice our inner stirrings and the energy underneath what is visible. This is a very powerful space to hold within ourselves. It requires us to let go of the reigns—the push pull energy and allow things to flow. An image of a thawing babbling brook comes to mind—a letting go of what is stuck and letting go of what no longer serves and also the hardest part—letting go of what we think the outcome should be. 

Imbolc also carries Bear energy. I think about the bear waking up and leaving its den hungry and ready to return to the world. I am considering what is it that I am hungry for. What in me needs to wake up? This is a powerful energy that is rooted in our intuition/instincts. The path may not be clear but if we listen to our inner stirrings, we will soon find ourselves moving forward, forging our path. Waking up requires we show up fully. This is the tricky part—not allowing our boots to get stuck in the thawing mud beneath our feet. We keep going—propelled by our inner knowing. 

This time of year is also tied to the Celtic Goddess Brighid. I have been a devotee since my early thirties.  I am a Flame Tender with The Daughter’s of The Flame. Brighid is the Goddess of healing, smith-craft, wells, sunrise, fire, poetry and so much more. 

Here are two links should anyone want to look further into this amazing Goddess. 

Brigid’s Sparking Flame is a resource site run by the Celtic scholar and practitioner. Mael Brigde. She also is the woman that birthed The Daughter’s of the Flame. She is in Kildare, Ireland as I write this, attending an event where she will be reading from her amazing book of poems.

Brigid: Survival of A Goddess/Order of Bards, Ovates & Druids

Is Your Last Name Ritual?

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I noticed my last post was back in November of 2023. So much for being consistent. Well, it’s a new year and I am going to keep moving forward. I have experienced a lot of restarts in my life. I’ve finally come to a place of acceptance–most things do not go as planned. For me, it’s about being with whatever is presenting itself, even if it’s just a couple of sticks, or an idea, an illness or not knowing where my writing is going. 

Thankfully, today, that is not the case. I am still on course with my memoirish project. I haven’t gotten as far as I had hoped but a lot has been worked out and unexpectedly another project has emerged–very different but in the same vein.

My memoir is about living in 52 houses and the multitude of experiences that came with living in different homes, different communities and meeting new people. What I found the most surprising about my story is what motivated my nomadic tendencies.

I’ve wanted to write this book for close to a decade–when it was at forty something houses but I didn’t possess the understanding of what compelled me to continually keep going. I was stuck in a place of always arriving. I now understand the necessity of my journey. I am sure more insights will happen as I continue to engage with the project. Bringing it to fruition is my goal for 2024. 

Living in 52 houses highlighted the fact I have house magic. (I think I might have been a successful real estate agent) I have managed to find some of the most unique homes and places to live over the last few decades. And I am deeply grateful for what each space gifted us with. 

One of the first things I did when we arrived at a new home was set up an altar. I needed to have that sacred place–a place between the worlds–a place where all things were possible. I wanted to have something that physically acknowledged new beginnings. I absolutely love creating altars and usually have several in my home at any given time. Seeing them reminds me that everything is sacred. They often shift my mood, bring comfort, affirm that anything is possible, and they elevate my thoughts. 

I am slowly working on a side book–Altars of The Hearth. This book is more about creating sacred space–connecting with the home, the land in a deeper way, as well as the community. The focus is creating sacred space and working with altars in unique ways. 

In one of my last moves the movers were carrying in our boxes and he asked me, “Is your last name ritual?” I remember thinking, why in the world is he asking me that. He pointed to the stack of boxes and said, “They all are marked ritual.” I laughed and said, “no”. The other mover chimed in and said, “Maybe it’s best we don’t know.”

I am ready to move forward with blogging, and both my projects. Happy 2024! May all your creative projects blossom in the new year. 

Life, Books & Mothers

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I was going to push the delete button on my three posts about Egypt. My last post was in May of 2023. As I reread what I wrote, I noticed a tightening in my chest. It’s still challenging to accept the fact that two months after writing that post I found myself back home at the same apartment complex I left, the one where we sold and gave away pretty much everything. That was not the plan. The plan was to remain in Egypt for at least a year, if not permanently. That is not how things played out. I decided to leave my posts up–for myself, as a reminder that resiliency is available if I remain open to honoring my journey no matter what shows up.

I spent the last six months healing, sorting thru my life and rebuilding. So much has surfaced. The biggest piece that keeps clawing its way to the surface is, I always thought by the time I reached a certain age my life would be sorted. No, I am now a Crone and I have discovered this stage is one of huge shifts and a whole lot of letting go of what I imagined my life to look like.

Where I am finding the most insight and support is around my writing. I lived for a very long time with three writing projects–all relentlessly clamoring for my attention. It felt like the stories that wanted to be told were incessantly haunting me. I spent far too many months vacillating between which stories to write. This maddening situation kept me from doing much writing. Very recently the frantic non-movement shifted. I could break out in song! I wish the shift had come sooner but I also understand why it didn’t. I had to integrate some of my experiences in order to have more insight into my project. The project demanded resolution and the question, what did I learn, had to be examined and highlighted. I also discovered two of my projects can be combined into one and the third project, which is fiction, will not come to fruition at this time, but there are craft elements in that project I can draw from that will enrich my current project, which is memoir. It wasn’t easy to pack up my fiction (for now) as it was a dream from many years ago that still carries energy, but it was necessary to make a choice. I often struggle with indecisiveness. I am working on it.

I am writing a memoir around our moves. I have lived in fifty-six houses. Questions I am carrying into this project are–what drove me to adopt a nomadic lifestyle. What did living in very different places teach me? What was my relationship to the houses I lived in, the land, and the community?

I excavated the answer to the question of what drove me to move—it is absolutely connected to adoption issues. There was this need–this soul need to find my family–where I belonged. Who was I? Who was my Mother? Early into my journey I didn’t possess a lot of insight into the deeper reasons for adopting a nomadic lifestyle. Our moves were not understood by me or my family–I just followed some sort of migratory imprint that informed me when it was time to go.

The question of what drove me shifted dramatically and organically evolved into a much deeper and wider search that not only included my biological mother, it also expanded into a search to find The Divine Mother. This journey required lots of movement both inside this country and beyond. I visited temples, ashrams, churches, spiritualists, metaphysicians, healers, covens, groves, circles, Priests, Priestesses, teachers, back alleys and the homes of strangers.

I am in the process of determining what stories need to be included in this book and I am enjoying getting words onto the page. Hopefully I can find time to consistently blog–thats the goal. I’m debating on moving to Substack as that seems to be less complicated. If you are reading this–I wish you well in all your creative endeavors.

Encounters, Engagement & Community.

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I wanted to blog more consistently but I’ve let go of expectations. Life is full and rich.

My husband and I went on a walk yesterday and he took these two lovely photos.

I enjoy our walks as we never know who or what we will encounter. It’s always medicine for the soul.

Yesterday, I realized I had not yet met another American. David reminded me that they live in another part of town. Where we live is not removed. Yes, it’s a complex with European landscaping, but it’s in the heart of everything. My neighbors are a French woman, a couple from Belgium that own a restaurant across the street, Egyptians, Egyptian-Americans, Saudi- Arabians, French Canadians, Africans, Iranians, Russians, Europeans, Germans and a woman from India that wears the most stunning saris. And there are a wide variety of mixed families. These are the people/families I have encountered in our complex, during our walks, or when I am sitting on the porch, or by the pool.

What I enjoy most are our encounters. Small talk doesn’t exist, which I find refreshing, as I am not skilled in this area.

When there isn’t a language barrier, I have engaged in conversations with people about how they ended up in Egypt, politics, culture, healthcare, food and art. We often see groups of people on their porches involved in deep conversations. This makes me smile—it’s the sense of community that I find extremely healing.

Communication can be an issue but I have found that people jump thru hoops to find ways to communicate. I experience it like playing charades as humor is often involved. The children play together and have mastered finding ways to relate to each other. Hide & Seek appears to be Universal.
The wonderful spicy scents that fill the air during dinner time cause me to want to go knocking on doors with a plate and fork in hand. I wonder what my neighbors are cooking—how they are living their lives.

I’m intrigued by how we live in such a tight-knit culturally-diverse living-space, in harmony. Every time I walk out my door people greet me and ask how I am. They stop and look me in the face and appear to be interested in my answer. I enjoy my interactions, even if they are brief.

I’ve only been here two months and already it has been life-changing. It’s pushed me to have a larger global perspective. I’ve come to understand that there doesn’t have to be huge divisions or lines drawn in the sand.

Is it perfect here? No. Absolutely not. There are glaring environmental issues, food and water shortages, poverty, lack of concern for domestic animals and a host of other things.

What’s different is, people generally want to find ways to connect, to talk about the deeper issues, to share their perspectives and to listen to what other’s think. They have the community piece mastered. I will never toss the word community around again. I am aware that I am only experiencing the tip of the iceberg as to how important it really is and how it benefits everyone. I thought I understood this. No.
There is so much potential for learning and growth on a global and personal level. It’s a gift to be part of a diverse community and to interact with families that are very different from my own.

Because I have a culturally diverse family, I believed myself to have a lot of knowledge in this area. Another No. It may have allowed me to be more open to living in this manner, but I have come to realize how little I know. This realization is both upsetting and exciting.

I feel very much alive here. I carried a deadness-a sense of disconnect in the states. It took a lot to stoke the creative fires. I’m trying to understand this and to integrate what I’ve experienced, so when I do return, I can live differently. More aware.

One thing I’ve noticed is, no one walks around looking at their phones. They look at the people and the world around them. Checking out isn’t as noticeable. This is a place of engagement.

My spirituality has deepened as well. I am starting to see life as a Sadhana—a spiritual practice. The lines of my daily devotions/meditations are blurred and blended with daily living.The separateness is fading with each encounter.

My world is shifting. Dramatically.

Ramadan & Ganesha

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This is not my first exposure to Ramadan. My Egyptian son-in-law lived with us in the states and he explained it’s meaning to our family. We participated by fasting and being mindful of his culture and practices. Being in Egypt for Ramadan is vastly different. The holiday is vibrant, sacred, celebratory, and brought to life by the people, colors, sights and sounds. What stood out to me, yesterday, were all the people handing out juice to everyone as they drove home at the end of the day. It was a lovely act of kindness towards those that might be weary from fasting all day and working. I loved witnessing the community gathering together. Lots of tables were set out in front of restaurants so families could eat together and the air was filled with positive vibes, endless strands of lights and decorations. My exposure to Ramadan transformed from experiencing it on a mental level to engaging with it fully from a heart space.

Later in the evening my Egyptian son-in-law called us together for a prayer meeting to honor all our faiths and spiritual practices. In attendance were Muslims, Christians, Universalist Unitarians, and those that honor all positive practices. I am a Goddess/Divine Feminine Practitioner/Devotee who honors the Hindu Gods as well as some of the Tibetan Buddhism Deities.

My son-in-law asked if he could show my altar, which I keep in my bedroom, to our guests. I had no problem with it. One man that serves in the Egyptian military stated that he had just encountered an image of Ganesha on a poster and he had lots of questions about “The Elephant” he noticed on my altar. This led to sharing and a long discussion about religion and spirituality.

I am grateful my family of mixed cultures, lifestyles, races, views, religions and spiritualities are committed to making space for each other. It’s not always a-walk-in-the-park. In the past there were blow-ups over holidays, perspectives and beliefs, but we continue to show up for each other by choosing love and respect. We don’t have to agree on everything or persuade the other to see things our way. We recognize that each of us has our own interpretation of God/Goddess and our own path in this lifetime. We try to take a non-dualistic approach. Most of our differences surface when one or the other feels that their voice isn’t being heard.

Living in a family that has endless differences and perspectives but also has a strong foundation rooted in love and respect, is both a blessing and an invitation to take our commitments beyond the front-door. Attempting to live our beliefs and practices while going about our day–engaging with our surroundings and other people, quickly highlights the truth of how skilled we are at embodying our practices. If I’m not challenged, its fairly easy, but if someone cuts me off while I’m driving or I encounter people I am not fond of–well let’s just say, I fall short. A long string of cuss words along with my middle finger may make an appearance. My prayer this Ramadan is that I will continue to try to live my practices when I engage with the world.

Wish Me Luck. This is Not an Easy Task.

Ramadan Blessings to ALL.

Stories, Stories, Everywhere.

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My favorite place in my new home is the porch. I could host a small writing retreat and fifteen people would have space to stretch out. Thankfully, it is covered in shade by noon. And right around the corner is a lovely cactus garden and a cobblestone walk-way. I am grateful for the ability to sit outside and write.

What I love about living in Egypt is the diversity. Yesterday, I had a long conversation with a French woman. She has taught in 51 countries, mostly in remote villages. I was fascinated by her experiences. She is currently teaching at a French school here in Hurghada but has another contract coming up in September in an African village. I enjoyed connecting with her and I am hoping for more conversations.

I also met a man that lost everything in the stock market and he expressed he had enough to survive but needed to live in a country that was affordable. I understood. Completely.

You can tell who the travelers are because they walk up to you and start conversations as if you have known each other for years. They often address issues that might take time to get to in the states. I adore the complexity and the richness. No making nice, no small talk or pretending everything is okay. I describe it as Soul Talk.

Since I’ve been here I see stories everywhere–sticking out of the piles of sand, in front of cafes and in the smiles of the people. Stories seem to be hovering in entrance ways waiting for someone to notice. There are hundreds of buildings that are half finished–some units completed but many have been abandoned. I can’t help but consider the history and the stories behind the structures. Hurghada is a fascinating mix of architecture and people. I see it as a bridge connecting the ancient past to the modern world. I drove by a marina that housed some stunning yachts and then five minutes down the road, a different reality. It all co-exists and somehow there is an unseen flow.

What I love most are the people and their stories. For whatever reason listening to people share their life experiences is nourishment for my body, mind and spirit. Maybe it’s because I’ve been blocked creatively for a long stretch of time–I don’t know, but what I do know is, I look forward to more encounters.

Restarting After a Long Absence

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I haven’t blogged in forever. I’m not going to try and play catch-up. I am going to begin with where I am. And where I am at the moment, is Egypt. I have been here sixteen days. In two days we will move into our new place which will be our home for the next year. Right now I am residing with my daughter and her family. The view of The Red Sea from the balcony is stunning. As of yet, I do not have a rhythm. I’m in a sort of free-fall. I’m hoping that once we get settled I will feel more rooted. I recognize that these things have their own trajectory.

What I am excited about are the possibilities–especially around my writing. I have a project that has been marinating on the back burner for a long stretch of time. It’s demanding to be developed–56 Houses. 56 is the number of places I have called home. Each time I think we have finally arrived at our final destination, things shift. I used to grieve not having a long-term family home–the kind where you measure your children’s growth with little marks on the wall. But this is not how my life played out. Thankfully, I recently made a mental shift and I now recognize how my nomadic tendencies have gifted me with with a wide variety of experiences. It’s almost like I have been able to dwell in different realities. Each place taught me something necessary and I can now see how moving to different towns, cities and countries has become a rewarding nomadic lifestyle as well as a spiritual practice.