Serendipity

My last post was written in a flurry of thought, a need to get it down. I go through these phases, these plummets down into existential angst. The last time was a few years ago when I realized I was knee deep in something I wouldn't have chosen for myself if I'd been in my right mind. I remember writing it out, writing all the awful things I feared, like life had no purpose, we were just biological mechanisms, love was a chemical induction to procreate, and yes, we are maggot food. And then something happened, nearly immediately afterward, that changed my mind.

Serendipity.

It's like, some being watches, like there is such a thing as a Watcher, and when it sees that I'm swilling the dregs in my cup of faith, it swoops in with a jug full and refills it. There's a part of me that hates this, that would prefer to go on thinking nothing means anything, because lets face it, it's easier. It takes a lot less energy to be an Eeyore than it does to be a Winnie The Pooh, right?

But I can't stay Eeyore for very long when I put my fears out there, and the entire freaking universe seems to conspire to prove my fears to be without foundation. I post that I'm losing my faith, and five minutes later, I begin the process of connecting with people whose understanding of 'The Way Things Are' closely resembles my own before the existential angst took over. Portents. Signs. Serendipity.

I participate in a coven of like minded Feri and Reclaiming inspired witches. There are five of us. We get together once a week to make magic together. It is an intensely intimate gathering of minds and spirits that both drains and sustains me. It drains me because I'm not a social person and being around people for any length of time depletes my energy stores. It sustains me because the magic we make together, the things we learn together, refill my cup of faith in the universe, in life, as being more than a machine, an accident of chemistry and physics. We have ooga booga moments that nail my disbelief down and beat it into submission. My questioning mind can't stand firm against the facts, jack. And I don't mean the facts I read in books, but the empirical evidence, the experiences I have with my coven sisters.

Maybe what's happening is I've hardened myself a bit against experience. I've been in my head far too much lately, sitting here in this same spot day after day trying to find respite from the thunderstorm that is raising teenagers. I plug my thinking mind in and unplug my instincts because my instincts are whiney right now. They want things I'm not able to give them. Time away. Pure pleasure. Self-indulgence. Solitude.

Carol suggested I get some chocolate and tackle something on my list of things to do before I die. There's nothing on my list that I can actually do at the moment, but there are offshoots, things I can do that are just as purely indulgent, just as sensual, as nourishing. I'm attending a housewarming party this evening that promises connection with bright, shiny people I love (Tay, Chris, Nyx, Fifollet). There will be chocolate there - of that I'm sure - and Robin, Fifollet's husband, has promised to make his delicious herbed flat bread. In the meantime, there's a hunk of brie in the fridge that would make an excellent lunch, along with perfectly ripe avocado. I could take a hot bath. I could do something different with my makeup. I could write a short story or start outlining that novel I keep promising myself I'm going to write.

Epiphany. My life feels small these days because I let it be so. I don't consider my options. I let the stress of dealing with all the craptastic stuff that happens take me over, exhaust me.

Grab some chocolate and tackle something on the list. That should be tattooed somewhere on my person. Do not let one moment escape without awareness of it's potential. Quit pouting. Quit focusing so much on what's wrong and pay attention to what's right.

***

I'm not sure if there was any real point to this except that I felt the need to record the quick shift from one mode of thinking to another.