Seasons of Desire, Seasons of Gratitude

September 22nd, 2013 by Editor B

Long Time No Read

It’s been a year since I wrote anything here. Did you miss me?

Did you even notice I had stopped? I thought I’d made myself clear when I wrote about stepping into the dark, but apparently I was too subtle. I’ve spoken to a few readers who didn’t understand its implications.

I’m curious to know how many people will even see this, since the site has been fallow for a year. If you’re reading this, please leave a comment and let me know. You may be brief; a simple anonymous “Yo!” will suffice. But say something, won’t you? You don’t even have to read the rest of this article, which is too long anyhow.

Writing Elsewhere

I have still been writing lo these many months. I just haven’t been writing here. But I have been writing a lot. Some of it is ephemera: status updates, tweets, comments on blogs and the like; no matter how thoughtful, no matter how substantive, these still feel insubstantial, like chaff that is lost in the breeze.

I had some essays published in a series of e-book anthologies called Voices from the Grain, but that seems to be defunct now, or dormant. You can read my articles for Yule, Ostara, and Beltane. See also my article for Candlemas which was published in a different venue because the ebook didn’t “make.”

I started another blog to write in another mode as an experiment. It’s called Celebration of Gaia. I’m particularly pleased of my essay on the Summer Solstice.

But mainly I have been attempting to focus on fiction writing. It’s very different, and hard work to boot, but I’m hopeful that eventually I will have something of substance, a story worth reading by my own standards at least. Maybe, someday, I’ll have something to share.

Another Equinox

In the meantime, this is surely an auspicious time for an update in the classic confessional style which I’ve always employed here. It’s the autumnal equinox again. It’s a good time for reflection and introspection. Also, the equinox marks the point at which I stopped writing here a year ago.

Equinox Muffins

Since then I’ve continued to celebrate the eight holidays that make the Wheel of the Year, finding them a rich field of inquiry. They open up so many questions. They offer a continuous series of opportunities to reflect on cherished values and the deep mysteries attendant to our place in the cosmos.

There are many ways to interpret the Wheel. For example, the solstices divide the year into halves. From the winter solstice to the summer solstice the days get longer; from the summer solstice to the winter solstice the days get shorter. So in terms of light, the year has a waxing half and a waning half. The holidays in the waxing half celebrate desire, while the harvest festivals in the waning half are a time for gratitude. That’s one way to look at it.

The Wheel recapitulates the life cycle. I’m somewhere past the summer solstice of my life, moving into the cross-quarter: my Lammas, my Lughnasa. Perhaps I’m there now, perhaps I’m still approaching. Perhaps that’s why that holiday has resonated so deeply in my soul and been so precious to me. Of course we may experience gratitude and desire every day, throughout the year and throughout our lives, but I feel an undeniable sense of passage, of tipping forward. Gratitude comes easier to me now. The flames of desire and ambition still burn, but it takes a little more effort to keep them stoked. I remember being young. This feels different.

And now it’s time once again for the equinox, the second of the three harvest celebrations. I associate this holiday with gratitude, balance, and the mysteries of darkness. Without darkness there is no wonder. For this, I am grateful. I have not yet reached the autumnal equinox of my life. At least, I don’t think so. I’m looking forward to it with hope and trepidation. I’m sure not in any rush.

Bring the Crisis

I’ve come to understand my recent spiritual crisis as a transition between life-stages. We hear a lot about the midlife crisis, spoken in ominous tones, as if it’s a singular discrete event unique to the middle years, as if it’s something dreadful. But that’s not quite accurate on either count. What is life but a series of crises? And what is a crisis but a change, an opportunity? Without crisis there is only stasis. If we wish to grow, to develop as human beings, to reach our potential, then we should embrace the crisis.

That’s what I’ve done. That’s what I’m doing. My personal crisis has been documented in my writings here over the last several years. I’m happy to report that the crisis is ongoing. I feel that I have undergone, and am still undergoing, a spiritual revolution. It has been a process of transforming the self which seemed to begin almost spontaneously. At some point I recognized it, grabbed it with both hands, and started shaping it myself, to keep it going, and to guide it.

It has been, for the most part, a wonderful and joyous thing, shot through with strains of bittersweet and melancholy. But then my whole life has been that way. It’s just part of my character, part of my way of experiencing the world. But these recent years have been particularly joyous.

Changes

Some may wonder what I’m even talking about. It might help to pull this out of the abstract and give some concrete examples of changes that have manifested in my life. These are things that have taken root over the last four years or so:

  • I meditate daily. Or almost daily. Certainly on workdays. It’s hard for me to articulate how this affects my life. I’m not sure if meditation is the catalyst for other changes, or the result. Most likely I suppose it’s an iterative process. Meditation is part of my practice that deepens and strengthens and integrates other aspects of my life. You hear people talk about meditation as peaceful and relaxing, and so it can be, but I also think it’s much more than that.
  • I stopped drinking. I noticed I was drinking more and more but enjoying it less and less. Maybe years of steady moderate-to-heavy drinking changed my body chemistry. Maybe I’ve come to cherish certain aspects of cognition which drinking does not promote. Maybe it’s a combination of the two or something else entirely. I can only say I felt the need to quit, so I did, as of Mardi Gras this year. I’m not a strict teetotaler, but almost. I’ve gone from drinking every evening to drinking only on special occasions, at intervals of a month or two. And usually after those special occasions I wonder, “Why do I bother?” Alcohol is rapidly losing its appeal.
  • I’ve made changes to my diet. A couple years ago I made a conscious effort to start eating less, to cultivate a sense of hunger. I started to place a big emphasis on fresh fruits and vegetables, not just for me but for my family. More recently, after watching Forks Over Knives, Xy and I decided to stop buying bird and mammal meat. Our three motivating factors might be labelled health, earth, and ethics: that is, a healthier diet, a lighter impact on the planet, and the aspiration to inflict less cruelty on other living beings. (We agreed we might make an exception for animals raised in a more humane fashion, but we haven’t actually acted on that.) We still eat a lot of fish, though, and I find myself eating other meat occasionally when it’s already bought and paid for by someone else.
  • I have gotten into a regular exercise program. I started jogging. Then I added yoga. Then calisthenics. I would rotate through these three daily, then rest for a day and start over. I did that for about a year. Combined with the lack of alcohol and dietary changes, I lost about 25 lbs. over the past two years. Now I’m actively trying to build muscle mass through eating a high-calorie, balanced diet and lifting weights four days a week.

I can hear the objection: You’re just on a self-improvement kick. It’s nothing more profound than that. Further, one might note that these changes are all very self-centered. And it’s true that many of my recent efforts have had an intensely inward focus. Yet despite appearances I do actually have a social conscience. It’s not all about me. In fact, my relations with others, my family in particular, have been a prime motivator.

Since I stopped writing here, during my daughter’s first year at her new school, I found myself visiting her classroom repeatedly to celebrate the Wheel with them. Without planning it, I developed a miniature curriculum around these seasonal holidays, one part science, one part cultural awareness, and one part spiritual development. I read them books about the solstices and equinoxes, gave demonstrations with oranges and lamps, baked treats for them, told them stories and did rituals. I had a blast and I think the kids enjoyed it too.

My interests in these matters have also driven changes in my professional life. I’m no longer strictly a technical/creative specialist. In my role as a faculty developer, I now make an effort to recognize the whole person. My repertoire has expanded to include subjects like time management and work-life balance. I regularly facilitate discussions on sensitive topics. I’ve conducted workshops on mindfulness and other types of meditation. I wrote a grant that sent three faculty members to a week-long seminar contemplative pedagogy, and we have formed a learning community here on campus. Last week, we met in the Meditation Room in the newly constructed Katharine Drexel Chapel. A decade ago I would never have imagined this.

Sum

So what’s it all about? You could say I got religion, I suppose. Sometimes that’s what I call it. But our society has such strange ideas about religion. My approach, devoid of supernatural notions, might be seen as secular. Sometimes that label seems safer. I can only report that my experience of life over these last years has been suffused with a sense of wonder, awe, humility and love.

If I had to sum it up, I’d say at the root is the simple idea that I am part of a larger whole. And so are you, Dear Reader. We are all children of the Earth.

Earth - Illustration

Does the Earth constitute a coherent whole, a self-sustaining system, an organism of sorts? I’m still sorting through the science and philosophy on that question. But whatever the exact nature of Gaia — mythical, archetypal, empirical, fantastical — my heart is filled with reverence for Her. I recognize that all my efforts and motivations spring from Her. She is the source of my very essence. I try each day to participate in Her more fully. For this, I am grateful.

Photo credit: Earth – Illustration / CC BY 2.0

31 Responses to “Seasons of Desire, Seasons of Gratitude”

  1. David Martin Says:

    I’ve admired your exploration of the Wheel and the rituals you’ve shared around the turning. My own paganism is more amorphous and the generally hectic life I give myself would benefit for more deliberate reflection.

    Thanks for sharing.

  2. Anonymous Says:

    yo

  3. Anonymous Says:

    Yo!

  4. Kevin O'Mara Says:

    Still here reading, thanks to the magic of my RSS reader having not forgotten about you.

  5. Sean Says:

    Since having my son and having a mid-life I’ve found that fine tuning my life so that it will be more beneficial to me and my family was all important. Your life changes sound great man.

  6. Carol Says:

    Still reading and finding your journey interesting. Thanks for the update.

  7. Jon Konrath Says:

    Yo! Impressed with these changes, and wish I could be doing more myself. I did get my diet fixed and lost 50 pounds, but I need to figure out the meditation part, hopefully without giving David Lynch a paycheck or two.

  8. Jenel Says:

    It’s not just a wheel, it’s a spiral, round and round but never the same place twice.

  9. mike whybark Says:

    yo! (RSS lives!)

  10. Paul Smedberg Says:

    Y is for the many letters before it.
    O is for the circle, so complete . . .

  11. Dan Says:

    YO! RSS readers help everything stay alive.

  12. anonymous Says:

    I agree with Dan: this post showed up in my reader — very thoughtful!

  13. Anonymous from Chicago Says:

    yo!

  14. shanalee hampton (@cookoorikoo) Says:

    yo!

  15. Marco Says:

    Mindfulness is something the whole of humanity needs desperately. I believe that people like you and I will be ok, but what about the soul of the world? The only thing we can do is something like what you are doing on an unique individual level. I myself have not stopped drinking wine. I have tried to limit my consumption, but that’s a bitch when the wine is good and the complementary food that accompanies it. It is a joy that I find impossible to eliminate. Anyway yo and glad that you are back writing here.

  16. David Says:

    Have you been to the Amma Center?

  17. Erin Says:

    I’m here.

  18. Garvey Says:

    Welcome back. The community you created here has missed you.

  19. NOLA in the Midwest Says:

    Thank you for returning and sharing here again — you were missed, but not forgotten!

  20. Scott Says:

    Glad to see you back.

  21. Carolyn Says:

    Still here

  22. Anonymous Says:

    Yo! Just when I quit checking your blog…

  23. Kent Says:

    You’ve been missed!

  24. Peris Says:

    Yello! Coincidentally, I stopped checking b.rox about the time you stopped posting, and started again about the time you restarted (if indeed you have). Something about the brewing storm made me look.

    Ah, mid-life. On the crest, able to see both far behind and far ahead. Mid-term examinations. New asceticism to nurture a rich inner life. I remember.

    BTW, I’ve been cheating on Gaia with Mars lately. Am I a bad person?

  25. Martin M. Says:

    yep

  26. Editor B Says:

    David, I’ve still never made it to Amma. For some reason I seem not be drawn toward group meditation. Maybe I should be. But I cherish solitude.

    Peris, in some circles mixing Greek and Roman deities might be frowned upon but it’s all good as far as I’m concerned.

  27. Max Holsinger Says:

    Yo. Glad to see you are back. You have some wildly unique yet oddly grounded perspectives. The Internet is more interesting as long as the voices of Rox are around in some form. Also off the bottle, though not quite as enthusiastically. Solidarity!!! for my wife who is carrying our first baby!

  28. Fred Says:

    So I was trasfering bookmarks from an old computer to a new one. Tried your site after many, many months and there you were. Back in the saddle again.

    Have not read anything yet. You back for good or is this just a flirtation?

  29. Editor B Says:

    To be perfectly honest, Fred, I’d intended this post as a one-time update. But once again I didn’t make myself clear, it seems. A couple commenters expressed pleasure to have me “back in the saddle.” And apparently that was all the encouragement I needed.

  30. Carmen Says:

    “So what’s it all about? You could say I got religion, I suppose. Sometimes that’s what I call it. But our society has such strange ideas about religion. My approach, devoid of supernatural notions, might be seen as secular. Sometimes that label seems safer. I can only report that my experience of life over these last years has been suffused with a sense of wonder, awe, humility and love.”

    Sounds like Persephone’s been doing her job, mate. I had to search your tags, but here’s a flashback: http://b.rox.com/2009/05/05/dear-aunt-ron/

    Wink.

  31. Valerie Says:

    I was a daily reader so I really missed you when stopped posting – although I totally understand the reasons you stopped. I was in grad school in Bloomington when J and B were on, so I feel like I know you and Christy (in weird way). Anyway, I am glad you are back and wish you the best in your efforts in fiction writing. Posting like this is always going to be more rewarding that trying to learn a new style/format of writing, so while I enjoy reading this, be sure your long-term goals come first.

    Thanks again for sharing your life and thoughts.

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