Through the Eyes of a Mystic

It must be difficult being a student of a mystic. Often I feel like I owe my students an apology.

In my defense, I feel like I am in a single continuing conversation, and the faces all start to blur at some level. So I will begin conversations with, “As we were discussing,..” and then realize ten minutes in that this person who is now in front of me has no idea to what I am referring.

And I will say to the person to whom I began the conversation, “I was talking with a dear friend and …”. And only much later does it occur to me that this may in fact be that dear person standing in front of me.

I often say things that mean something different than how it first appears. I have noticed people correcting me then immediately repeat back what I thought I had said. I cannot tell if I had that part of the conversation internally or whether what I intended to say was spoken out of order.

I find myself confused often in conversations. I am hearing things that were not spoken out loud … or something. Sometimes it is as if I maybe missed part of the conversation.

This would all be frightening, disorientating, or depressing if were not for the almost constant flow of light, beauty, joy, connection and delight that permeates almost everything I do. I am reassured by every inhale, delighted by every blooming flower and comforted by every drop of water that passes across my lips.

Life is so rich, sweet, succulent, promising and full right at this very moment.

Oh yeah, did I mention that my book is finished? I am writing the preface and making final touches on the intro. And right now, that is oh so sweet and satisfying.

Blessings of the Waxing Moon as we turn toward Beltane’s Eve.

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One Bear at a Time

I am participating in a fundraising campaign to benefit abandoned children in Nigeria who have been accused of witchcraft by their families and neighbors.

As part of this campaign, I am knitting 10 stuffed bears to be sent directly to a shelter in Nigeria that works to house, feed, clothe, and educate these kids. I also have a personal fundraising goal of $5000 to donate to Stepping Stones Nigeria, a UK-based organization that sponsors this shelter.

Please help me to make my goal in one of the following ways:

• Make a one-time donation either by check or on-line
• Sponsor my bears by donating a specific amount per bear that I complete
• Donate a set amount to the cause each pay period through the remaining months of this campaign

If you would like to donate by check, please make it out to the Chesapeake Pagan Community or CPC and send it to me at the address below. If you would like to donate online, go to http://charity.becomingdc.org. You can then donate via PayPal. Please send me an email letting me know how much you donated, so I can apply that to my fundraising goal. All monies collected will be sent via Chesapeake Pagan Community to Stepping Stones Nigeria at the end of September.

Together, we can make a difference in these children's lives.

Blessings,
Katrina

Katrina Messenger
PO Box 5223
Takoma Park, MD 20913
USA

If you would like more information about this issue, there are links to articles and the organizations at http://charity.becomingdc.org/.

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Still Crazy After All These Years

Reflections is reading the Artist's Way as our annual book study. We are taking two weeks for each chapter. We started on the first Sunday after Imbolc. So this week we begin chapter three. I wrote the following on our bulletin board to summarize my thoughts on chapter two.

I thought when I began Chapter 2 of The Artist's Way that it would be less painful for me now that I had removed most if not all of the crazy-makers and poisonous playmates from my life ... but alas it was not to be. There was still loads of their toxins still in my system. I dug even deeper and realized that most of my corporate career could be thought of as an abusive marriage. And the reason I kept trying harder (sound familiar) was because I was still trying to appease my number one crazy maker -- my father.

And even though he died almost 16 years ago, his toxic gift is still delivering. My healer elder named it many months ago and at the time it did not make sense to me. But as I read this chapter, it hit me. I am still trying to be validated, accepted and acknowledged by him. My entire life had been molded to fit his dream of a hard working, smart, honest, funny and respected person. This all sounds good on the surface. But despite my succeeding at levels unheard of in my family or within my neighborhood, and even breaking more than a few barriers as a "first", my father never once said, "Well done!" That is because he never intended that model for me. He thought he was inspiring his sons. And to his mind, his daughter completely failed at what he thought should have been my role as a woman.

So instead of congratulating me on winning award after award, or acknowledging all my promotions at work or even bothering to attend my graduation from high school or engineering school, he simply showed me a sink filled with dirty dishes. And I in some kind of robotic response would wash the dishes. And still he was not satisfied.

My mother on the other hand was very proud of me. She constantly encouraged me. In fact it is my greatest heartbreak that when I graduated from engineering school -- THE greatest accomplishment in my life in my book -- she was too far gone with Alzheimer's to even understand what I repeated to her over and over again for a half hour just in case she she could hear me. And so the one person who would have celebrated my successes, was inaccessible to me. While the one present was uninterested.

So what did I do, I worked even harder. And that is why I am a blocked creative. I work myself really hard, because I am trying to win my father's respect.

The truth is ... he did respect me. I found this out a few months before he died. But his revelation came so late ... I had built up a mode of living that even now is hard to change.

So right now, my biggest crazy maker ... is me.

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