Wednesday, August 4, 2010

"Life While You Wait"

Life While-You-Wait. 
Performance without rehearsal.
Body without alterations.
Head without premeditation.

I know nothing of the role I play.
I only know it's mine. I can't exchange it.

I have to guess on the spot
just what this play's all about.
I know I'm late with my "Lammas" post and that's the story of my life it seems lately but I was really inspired by Luna's post and how authentic she was in her own struggle.  I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who feels like I'm  not doing life "right", if you know what I mean. In the old ways, Lammas was really about celebration of the harvest, but the other half was about counting and acknowledging your regrets of what your harvest failed to bring you . I'm not saying that I have nothing to celebrate. I have so many blessings. It's more of an internal struggle. 

I have this internal voice that's constantly telling me, "I'm not doing this right or that correctly, what's wrong with you, Wendy?!" Where's the spiritual grace that we who are on the path sometimes obtain so effortlessly and then in a turn it disappears? In my twenties, it seemed that I had this magickal touch. Whatever I wished for, manifested on the spot. Synchronicity was my best-friend. I lived as if life was one big miracle. Lately though, I have this "dis-grace" that reminds me my time is limited here.

Ill-prepared for the privilege of living,
I can barely keep up with the pace that the action demands.
I improvise, although I loathe improvisation.
I trip at every step over my own ignorance.
I can't conceal my hayseed manners.
My instincts are for happy histrionics.
Stage fright makes excuses for me, which humiliate me more.
Extenuating circumstances strike me as cruel.

A dear friend told me that sometimes you have to pray for "the willingness to be willing." That's one of my mantras now. I seem to stumble all the time now. I'm not keeping my connections to other people solid and consistent as I'd like to. My friends wonder if I've vanished off the face of the earth. I seclude myself when I could be outside soaking up these perfect Southern California Days that most people dream about. So, what's wrong with me?

Words and impulses you can't take back,
stars you'll never get counted,
your character like a raincoat you button on the run ?
the pitiful results of all this unexpectedness.

If only I could just rehearse one Wednesday in advance,
or repeat a single Thursday that has passed!
But here comes Friday with a script I haven't seen.
Is it fair, I ask
(my voice a little hoarse,
since I couldn't even clear my throat offstage).

 Part of what keeps me going, is blogging. I can meet people in a safe container, my muse beckons softly and I know somehow in some small way, I may be speaking for those who are voiceless. Or it could be my ego talking. Do any of you struggle with this and does blogging seem to help you to keep going?

This blog means so much to me. eWitch was formed with great love and great magic and we who write for eWitch have been through so many transformations and I continue to be amazed at our commitment to each other and this blog. Our readership keeps growing and I want to thank each and everyone of you for whatever reason that is, that you believe in us to keep showing up with support and love. In this blog, we are all strong women who have differences and yet there's a respect that continues to grow and survive no matter what bumps are on  the road. This journey has taught me that maybe I'm not so alone in questioning life and when I read other peoples blogs, I'm most touched by the posts that reveal an intimacy that is usually reserved for only those who are closest to us.

You'd be wrong to think that it's just a slapdash quiz
taken in makeshift accommodations. Oh no.
I'm standing on the set and I see how strong it is.
The props are surprisingly precise.
The machine rotating the stage has been around even longer.
The farthest galaxies have been turned on.
Oh no, there's no question, this must be the premiere.
And whatever I do
will become forever what I've done.

It's funny how I start out a post as a skeptic doubting I have the ability to write anything meaningful and then like a stream from a river I somehow manage to breathe a sigh of the grace I so long for. Maybe this is what the Buddhists mean when they say, that "pain is inevitable and suffering is a choice." Growing pains are necessary for the well-being of ourselves and those we touch. Maybe this is what spiritual grace really is. So, really this is a post of gratitude for you readers who don't
 give up on us and for my eWitch sisters who continue to "fight the good fight.". So I wish each of you a spiritual healing and grace in whatever manner you need and may we here at eWitch continue to become part of your journey  Please know you're not alone. And if you feel like commenting, I'd love to know what you struggle with on a spiritual basis or just in general. And if there's anything you'd like to see or here from us at address here on eWitch; we'd all love to hear that too. Namaste. 

(Poem: "Life While-You-Wait" ~ Wislawa Szymborska ~)

7 comments:

luna petunia said...

You always write the loveliest posts. And they are beautifully laid out, too. The "inner voice" I especially love is the one that tells me what a bonehead I am, or WHY did I say that? Or best of all, You are so weird! We can really be our own worst enemies, can't we? We should be our own best friends.

Debra She Who Seeks said...

A true spiritual journey requires a certain very real amount of solitude, I think. We have to turn inward, listen closely, think and ponder. You can't do that with a bunch of people around, vying for your attention.

JJ Beazley said...

Wendy, this is beautifully put. The poem you quote is redolent of Shakespeare's 'All the world's a stage' speech, and I've long believed that whoever wrote the works accredited to him had a level of esoteric knowledge that is overlooked by the scholars.

I've also come to believe that we really are playing a role in what is ultimately a virtual reality drama of unimaginable size and complexity. 'Whatever I do will become forever what I've done' is a poignant and powerful statement, and it's the one I've come to terms with. We do what we think is right, we accept responsibility for our actions, and we move on - ever onwards. Regret is pointless except as a tool for learning. Once the lesson is taken, the regret must be dropped. Taking responsibility is good, but self-blame is merely its shadow that has no substance except in our fear.

As for rehearsal, I suspect we do rehearse this life before we come here each time. Which is why I now smile at my 'failures' and see them as merely part of the game.

I think you'll make the breakthrough one day. You've probably made it before.

Wendy said...

Luna, thank you as I said, your post really inspired me.

Debra, you're absolutely right about going inward and staying true to myself. I'm fortunate that I have ewitch and readers like you to give me insight the way you do.

Jeff, you always write so profoundly. And yes, I didn't notice it before but the poem is very Shakespearean which I don't know if that was intentional of the writer or not. You've brought up what I keep questioning myself about, "self-blame" and it's pointlessness. Thank you as always for your wisdom and encouragement. It means a lot to me.

Reader Wil said...

I wish I could do what you do and find my inner self.I am still to busy seeing other people and caring for my children, and grandchildren. You are very clever! Thanks for your visit. I love Norway and I will try to write about Saame for S. Last year I wrote about Vikings for S on Tuesday, 28 April 2009. I also wrote about the people near the arctic regions.

The Depressed Reader said...

Hi Wendy,
I'm glad to hear that your blogging helps to keep you going. Blogging helps me keep going too, as does reading the blogs of others, including eWitch.

It was interesting how you mentioned that some posts "reveal an intimacy that is normally reserved for those closest to us", and how touching this is.

I agree with you, and I find it moving too. But I sometimes wonder if this is a little sad that we are more able to tell our truths online to people we will probably never meet than honestly share ourselves with the people we know in our real, offline lives.

Reader Wil said...

Thanks for your comment on Roros. My concentration camp was different from that in "A town like Alice", for we stayed in one camp and the women in this book were walking from camp to camp and everywhere they were refused to settle until they were allowed to stay in a village with the Indonesian people.Did you know that this actually happened with Dutch women in the Dutch East Indies( now Indonesia)?

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