Lost Yet Found: My Inner Journey – Part 5

Decisions are hard for all of us. Which way do I go now, which path is
the right one, what do I do next, or, most urgently, where do I go from
here? Life is never easy and some decisions can be hard ones, very hard.
And, at times, it can seem as if there is no answer, although we know that
is untrue and every situation has a solution, no matter how hard it can
be to glimpse it at times.
This is where Hekate comes in. Hekate is the goddess of the crossroads.
She is also the mistress of the magic arts, and is included in the grouping
of the Moon goddesses. In ancient portraits she is shown to have three
heads and they look in each of three directions.
When we are at a crossroads Hekate is there with her torch light and
her ability to transcend both heaven and hell and her dwelling place on
earth. She can bring both the conscious mind and the unconscious mind
together, and the need to live in day to day reality home to us. She is
the one to go to for direction when we don’t know which path to take and
which road makes the best choice. Excerpt from STANDING AT
THE CROSSWOADS, Llewellyn. Co
m

I find this description of Hekate fascinating for one reason. If you are a female you are presently living through one of three periods of time, all of them represented by the goddess. During childhood you are helped to grow into your onset of puberty. After which you reach a state of maturity that will enable you to take on adult responsibility. This period lasts for some time as you grow further into your womanhood. You may become a mother and/or make other choices for what you want to do with your life. The second major crossroad will lead you into the third period of your life, when you reach what is referred to as old age. Most likely preceded by menopause. This period is referred to as the age of the crone.

If you doubt the existence of goddesses be reminded they have been around for thousands of years. As a stock character in folklore and fairy tales, an old woman. In some stories, she is disagreeable, malicious, or sinister in manner, often with magical or supernatural associations that can make her either helpful or obstructing. The Crone is also an archetypal figure, a Wise Woman.

The astrologer Alex Miller has researched many asteroids including Hekate.
He also says she is sometimes depicted as a triple goddess, in aspects as maiden, Mother and crone and identified with old age. In Athens she was revered as a chief domestic goddess, protector of the home. He adds that
Hekate relates to far-seeing, prophecy and ceremonial magick; the wisdom
accrued by age; intuition; protection and guidance, especially during crucial life passages such as puberty, childbirth and menopause.”

The crone is often depicted as thin and ugly, but also as a Wise Woman. So it may behoove us to get fat and spread wisdom. But also to heed what Ben Franklin said “Without freedom of thought there can be no such thing as wisdom – and no such thing as public liberty without freedom of speech.”

Lost Yet Found: My Inner Journey – Part 4

“As above, so below”.  The structure of the solar system continues to reflect the structure of the human mind. There is proof of this. Many of us have reflected on the historical synchronicities connected with the timing of the discoveries of Uranus (the American and French revolutions), Neptune (the Communist Manifesto, and Spiritism), and Pluto (nuclear energy and the widespread cultural integration of psychological language).

“But the discoveries of those three planets were just the first few drops of rain in the desert. Since 1992, there has been a downpour: not just one new planet, but a deluge of them. …….The solar system has become more complex. Has our sense of the complexity of the human mind also deepened in the past two hundred years? Do we simultaneously entertain many more avenues of perception and belief systems than did our great-grandparents? ……..Developments in astronomy are still reflecting cultural sociology……..The new solar system is real.”   World-famous Astrologer Steven Forrest in The Mountain Astrologer, August 2007.

I’ve learned there are many pathways to the Truth; but there are also many Truths.  The search for my own truth finally led me to astrology.  It may not be for everyone but it works for me.

 Over the past twenty-odd years the most exciting development in astrology has been the discoveries by astronomers of new planetary objects.  As Steven Forrest says, the solar system has become more complex.  In accord with the “as above, so below” the new discoveries reflect what is going on “down below”.

Names were chosen for the new discoveries, ephemerides were created going back many years.  The newly named objects had been there all along, waiting to reflect our evolving consciousness. Which reminds me of a time years ago; I was having trouble with my computer, calling for help from the IT trouble shooter.  He fixed my problem, saying “You were not in sync with the host.”  Perhaps that’s what the new planetary objects were waiting for – for us to get in sync with the host.  Synchronicity. 

As I searched the new ephemerides online and read the results of research by top astrologers (thankful for the Internet!} I was amazed at the new understanding I gained of my own natal chart.  Contacts with the new discoveries were revealing a side of me I’d lost touch with. I found myself going back to my personal history, watching events unfold that had seemed to come out of the blue.  I checked the progressions and transits of the planets and house cusps for those times.  Synchronicity.    

To be continued

No,Trump, Doctor Ford Did Not Make a Mistake

Thank You, Dr Ford

Thank you, Dr Ford, for giving me the courage to post my own Me Too experience.  I thought I had not let the experience affect me.  But then I witnessed your integrity, your bravery and knew I too, must speak.  I know you speak the truth but that you’ll become the focus of unfair attacks by those with less courage and more spite.

For any former Facebook friends who may read this, I also quit FB last week.   I enjoyed many of you but at my age I need to refocus my energies.

Is The Me Too Movement Over?

Is the Me Too Movement over?  Is it too late, or is there a place where I can sign on.  I recently entered his name on Google and learned he died six months ago.  No, he wasn’t the one who did it to me but he was the one who changed his mind and finished destroying my self-esteem.  His obituary said he was 86 years old and had a full life.  Well, bully for him.  Although I’m not quite 80 I’ve had a full life too.  I had no choice but to go on.  What else do you do?  You pick up the pieces scattered about, grin and bear it.  Roll with the punches.

We had met and he’d romanced me, making me feel so loved!  Treating me like a lady. But we double-dated one night with his friend.  His friend told him.  Later I noticed a change, asked what was wrong.  He told me.  The friend had recognized me.  He had arrived at an alumni party of fraternity brothers and their dates.  I was passed out and they were searching for my panties.

Humiliated?  You bet.  All I remembered was arriving with my date, having one drink and waking up the next morning, sleeping bodies scattered about.  I woke one and asked him to take me home.  What else could I do?  It never occurred to me something had been in that drink.  I’d never heard of such things.  I assumed I’d had too much to drink.  As usual I blamed myself.  I’d learned early in life that anything that happened to me was my own fault.

I’d like to blame him, even though he’s dead.  Kick him in the gut for assuming I was trash, not the “nice girl” he had believed me to be.  But instead I hope he had a miserable life, married a girl who was actually a hooker, found out on their wedding night (since she wouldn’t let him before) that she was not a virgin.  I wish all kinds of evils on him for the time I suffered, licking my wounds until, on the surface I healed yet went on to make a few more bad choices.

But you know what?  I wouldn’t change the results of those later choices.  Because I’m a survivor.  I learned to love that innocent, naïve girl that I was.  Welcomed her into my life.  Along with the one who at age fifteen successfully fought off an attempted rape. I hit him over the head with my shoe and threatened him with my brothers.  “By God,” the asshat said.  “I never thought I could get a virgin!” and begged me to marry him.  The answer of course was ‘Hell no.”

An Old Concept: Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

After posting the following in a comment on Facebook,  I feel motivated to repeat it here..

“If the “pro-life” people are really serious, if they really believe all life is precious (human lives, that is) why do they not build communities where single mothers-to-be can birth and rear their children. Providing them with medical care, nutrition, education, all the needs of the growing child. The world could be a different, and better, place.”

I hope the thought will appeal to others who are conflicted by the desire to save unborn babies and yet, at the same time, realize the disadvantages most of those unfortunate babies are born into.  Talk is cheap, as the old saying goes, so let’s put our money where our mouth is.  Truly save the children instead of just talking about it long enough to get them born and then deserting them.  Why do their lives cease to be precious after birth?

A Ghost Story

Have you noticed all those ghosts walking around? They used to be mothers, full of life, full of warm, nurturing love. Babies snuggled up in the curve of their necks, their soft sweet skin smelling of Johnson’s baby powder. The babies grew and grew and learned to walk and talk and make their mommas proud when they said her name. As they began to explore, they outgrew their infant needs, becoming self-propelled. They began to learn grownup things. Like who to love and who to hate and some even learnt who to blame when things go wrong. Be it their teachers, the government or their mothers.

They used to be ordinary people like you and me before the miracle of motherhood changed them into bright shooting stars that lit the heavens with happiness for an all-too-brief moment that continues to warm their memory as they grow old.

Have you noticed all those ghosts walking around? The ones with their failing eyesight and tender smiles who fade into the background, soft-spoken and undemanding? They had their moment in the Sun and are content to watch the seasons change and the years fly by.

I hate to say it but they are not me.

Oh, how I loved my time of shooting stars, yet I refuse to be a ghost.