Category: midnight thoughts

The Faithful Witch, or why I don’t need to ‘find God’

Sitting in the soft glow of the Christmas lights on the Tree and those shining from my Altar. Drinking coffee and contemplating faith.

I document some of my mental and physical health struggles. I have a biting sarcastic sense of humour ( carved well from surviving trauma). I am an empath through and through. I am curious. I am kind. I have a temper. I take things personally that I probably shouldn’t. I believe in helping because it’s the right thing to do. I believe the body is only the house of who we are, I do not believe in judging on gender, race, orientation or colour. I have a strong sense of spirituality and faith. I am Pagan.

Working with chronic illness I encourage my clients to include a faith based practice. I tell them, that these practices and communities are so important to healing. It is another pillar needed for survival. I never tell them what it should look like. I tell them it should be what speaks to them, what elevates them to their higher good, where they find comfort and connection.

Do I think it solves everything? No. Do I believe that alone will heal? No. Do I believe it takes struggle away? No.

Being Pagan, for me, means I am not beholden to one God. I do not bow to my Deity, I do not hand over my ills, nor do I blame or credit them with everything that happens in my life. I believe we are all interconnected. We are the stuff made of stars, we are nature. I believe this interconnection ( magic) binds us to be responsible in our actions and their effects on the world around us. I believe that science and magic work hand in hand. I believe there are things unseen and unknown. I believe my ancestors hold wisdom that can guide me if I listen.

Do I believe this makes me better than you if our Gods do not share the same name? No. I believe all roads eventually lead back to the same and you put the face on it you are most comfortable with.

I do find offence if you’re God demands that you make others conform to your understanding. I am offended if your God leads you to believe you are morally superior because of what you believe. I am offended if your God punishes people for perceived ‘sins’ or character flaws.

I am not offended if you hold me in your prayers, if it is to protect and share love, for that I am deeply moved and honoured.

I am offended if you are praying for my redemption because I’m not like you.

I am offended if you are judging me on my writing, humour or very human flaws and struggles, because you believe these things mean I have yet to find god….. I am offended if your belief makes you think it is ok to tell me that this is what I need.

My faith has so far seen me through some very dark moments. My faith has helped me have compassion and purpose. My faith keeps me curious and in wonder. I have found Myself with in it.

As we move through this season, be joyful, be kind and be open. There are many of us celebrating many things, there are many of us struggling with many things, but I think we can all agree that we should celebrate together, work together and create something better than what we have. Together.

❤️🔮

Inside war

This morning, I allowed my self to feel some of the anger that’s been bubbling. I looked deep into where inside this is sitting. I am so angry and disgusted with myself. As most of you know, simultaneously my knee and my shoulder have been failing me.
Three years ago I was building a strong body, I had found some relative freedom from my mental monsters. Through life circumstances and a couple of freak falls the physical and mental took a few hits.
The pain is constant, and some times workable. But has chipped away at my physicality.
Yesterday walking was nauseatingly painful. This morning, while I was achey I thought it might be workable. So I tried to stretch, a bit of yoga and a few other things to get moving. The knee and shoulder screamed all the while.
I crumpled to child’s pose and wept. I am so angry that I can not do what I could before. I am so frustrated I have all but lost the gains I had worked so hard for. I am so disappointed I gave into some old patterns. I am broken hearted that I feel so little compassion for myself.

I want to keep trying. I have to keep trying. There are a few things that I have kept with. There are a few things that keep me going. I can do my day to day. But these things were not done for self compassion, these were done for functioning, so I can work, so I can do the day to day. But not done of love of self. This makes me saddest of all.

I see this in others, I offer compassion and uncompromising care for them. Trying to let them know/feel that they deserve better. I have gallons of outward empathy. Yet inward is empty.

What is it that makes us feel unworthy? Being unseen for the beautiful creatures we are? Being told we are too much or not enough? Being discounted? Being shunned when we offer love and compassion to others- setting the seeds that even our best is met with disdain so me must be grotesque.

I am allowing the pain in today. In my body, in my heart, I will not dull with medication so I can ignore it. I will accept it as a part of me, for now. I will try ever so hard to find the compassion for myself that it’s ok to feel what I’m feeling. I will accept my disappointment. I will sit with this. I will try to love self despite these perceived failings, I will try to love these broken pieces too.

This world is hard. We all carry so much. Be kind. Be loving. To all. But most of all to SELF.
❤️

Lest We Forget

Today is November 11th. The day we use to observe the sacrifice that those that came before us gave, so we can live the life we have. I see continual posts of remembrance. Some very personal, sincere and with great understanding of the meaning. 

These Soldiers gave their lives, the ones that came home were changed, the families left behind were forever changed too.

But have we forgotten?

How do we honour them?

We bitch about the simple act of having to wear masks to protect each other DURING A PANDEMIC. 

We whine it isn’t comfortable, it’s stepping on my rights, the economy is more important, most people recover………

Covid is extremely dangerous for the elderly. You know those 639,900 still alive veterans (average age 95) we are honouring today?! The ones who fought to ensure our rights and freedoms. Whose families learned to live with less, because it was the right thing to do. The same families who took care of their neighbours in their times of need because it was the right thing to do. The same ones we are cavalierly marching toward death because they are old. The ones who are in underfunded care homes that are at high risk for outbreaks. The ones who are given so little financial assistance to live on from the Government and Country they once proudly represented around the world. 

How do we honour what they fought for?

They fought evil regimes that were killing people because of colour, religion, race, sexual orientation. 

So we have elected a provincial government that is determined to breed the kind of ignorance these elders tried to dismantle. 

A provincial government that wants to put at risk communities further at risk because they can. Because it is all about the economy that benefits the few, not the wellbeing of the majority.

Trying to take away safe spaces for our LGBTQ youth. 

Closing programs that were created to help people that have mental health needs, addiction illnesses, chronic illnesses, access to safe and timely health care. Whitewashing the history we teach and dismantling the education system that had potential to create forward critical thinkers that could make the world a safer, better place.

They skew the meaning of ‘freedom’ to allow hateful speech and actions to prevail, they sellout the ideals we think we uphold to the highest bidder.

I see the posts these “leaders” made today, thanking all that came before for their sacrifice, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I want to honour what these people fought for. Not just for one day, not idly repeating ‘lest we forget’ and promptly forgetting. I want to uphold their ideals. I want to improve upon them. I want my daughter to understand these sacrifices are not just stories, that what they fought for meant and still means something. 

That ALL of us, regardless of gender, colour, race, religion, ability, deserve to be supported, deserve to find our place in society. 

So I will continue to make noise to help: 

Get clean water to our Indigenous Peoples

Lift up POC and call out the injustices I see there.

Ensure our LGBTQ community have safe spaces and are welcome everywhere

Mental illness be normalized and those who have it are not shamed but supported with what they need

That our education and healthcare systems are supported and accessible to all.

Ensure systemic racism and sexism are rooted out, and change the system.

This is my plan to continue to honour those that came before me. I will continue to learn, I will continue to fight, I will continue to raise my voice for those that can’t, I will continue to try to do better to create the country they envisioned, the one they sacrificed so much for. And for as long as the need is there I will wear my mask.

A Moment of Healing

Trust yourself

Place your hands on the warmth of your skin

Breathe, you are here

There is no sting

Pressure of the phantom hand

Trust yourself

Place your hands with compassion, the places once scarred, mark the beautiful start

Breathe, you are here

Place your hands, the fleshy parts, once blue, now rosy pink. There is no harm

Only honour, only love

Trust yourself

Place your hands, over your heart. Offer compassion to the place ruined not by love but by betrayal

Breathe, you are here

Place your fingers on the softness of your throat, the strong vibration of words now clearly spoken, from a place once stolen

Trust yourself

Place your hands upon the place where your soul resides, accepting both the light and the dark

Breathe, you are here

Place your hands amongst the spaces where your power hums heavy, intimately yours, you owe it no access from others.

Trust. Yourself.

Muted

It felt like a sigh

But really it was a deflation

To be heard, felt, understood.

This is where heaven lies.

But words had failed

The barbs she tried to pull from her soul

To show, to show what it felt like in her head

Somehow became seen as weapons

Her ugliness rebuked, disdain, failure

Then came the sigh

Wrap the ugliness in the deflated self

A costume again applied

To be accepted to the proper place again

My Voice

Hand across my mouth

Arm across my throat

Words slapped from my lips

These are things that stole my voice.

Speaking to the ether

Not being heard

being told ‘you didn’t say that, I don’t remember, that’s not the way it happened’

These are the things that stole my voice

‘Do not speak until spoken to, no one wants to hear your opinion, no one will answer your screams’

These are the things that stole my voice

Years of tangled compression, oppression these are the things that have stolen my voice I can raise my voice to stand for you

I can raise my voice to stand for social justice Hear the echos? They come loud and clear

But when it comes to self, when it comes to me , it fades to silence

The old compression, oppression, squeezing in, taking the air, taking the sound,

restricts, constricts

My wants, my needs, my feelings, my thoughts I want to stand firm to say NO

No that’s not what I want

No that’s not who I am

These are the things where I’ve lost my voice. The sticky weapons of violence and cruelty that is wound around my voice for years and years and years

Squeezing away the sound, the breath, the air this is the tangled mess I seek to undo

to breathe life

this is where I want to find my voice

this is where you will hear me clearly say

No these are the things that hurt

No these are the things I don’t want

Yes these are the things that are right

Finally my voice will match my world voice

I will be heard

I will be heard

A Prayer for Chronic Illness

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray the pain is low and meek

If it rises before I wake

I pray for the right meds to take

Now I lay me down to sleep

It’s quiet here, so I can weep

The smile I wore all day was fake

It’s almost more than I can take

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray for rest, for I feel weak

Let the monsters be still, until I wake

So to the next morning I will make.