Second Initiation

Second Initiation April 28, 2017

Two candles burn beside me as I write today. The story I am writing began only last weekend … or seventy years ago. It lasted an hour or two … or a lifetime … and is clearly not done.

After a night and morning of silence, I stood in the dark, waiting to discover what would happen next.

I heard the voices of beloved friends and comrades. In the moment, I heard what was said; in the days since, I have been hearing what might have been said, were I willing to hear it.

IMG_1910How do you enter this circle?

I come with excitement and acceptance, in perfect love and perfect trust.

Here is the Book of your Life. Do you accept it?

I accept it. It is so heavy.

What are the stories from the past that burden you? What are the stories you tell yourself, that keep you playing small? Which of those stories are you willing to release?

My life is filled with stories. I hadn’t noticed before how much they weigh me down. Stories of being wrong, unwanted, of not being what was expected of me. Stories of being unable, unwilling, unworthy. Eventually I begin to see that these are just stories. After a time, I begin to be willing to release a few of the worst of them.

What gifts are you willing to receive for yourself? What gifts are you willing to ask for, to claim, to step into?

IMG_1932I ask to keep the cognitive and bodily gifts I am still using. I ask for grace and courage to release those I am losing, and for Wind to blow the cobwebs away.

I see that it is one thing to find the Joy, it is another to hold it, use it, nurture and keep it.

I ask for more trust in the pleasures and skills of this body, and for more kisses and hugs. I see that I will need to take some risks.

I ask for self-forgiveness and self-understanding. I ask to feel those emotions I have been blocking, and to release them into the waters of life. I see that I will need to be willing to release anger and resentment more and more quickly as I allow them to surface. I see that, with time, the waters will clear.

I ask for the strength and sturdiness to fulfill my promises and complete my work. I see that I will need to defend those that need defending as well as make time to do those things that I enjoy doing.

I ask to be Right-sized, with Right Strength, Right Softness, Right Tenderness. I see that Right Understanding, Right Action, Right Attitude, Right Livelihood, Right Speech, Right Effort, and Right Awareness are necessary. I see that distraction and loss of focus are recurring, and must be released in each moment whenever they recur.

I ask that, some long time from now, I be conscious at a Right Death, free from being medicated away from my experience by some well-meaning medic.

You carry so much regret. Can you acknowledge regret as the light of awareness and learning? Can you recognize that fear is as revealing as hope?

IMG_1912I acknowledge that I have been afraid to feel my fear, which has limited me. I recognize that there are amends I can make that I have omitted; also that there are amends it is too late to make in person, that can still be offered. There is work here for me.

You carry so much shame and self-judgment. Can you accept the possibility that the parents you loved, and whose approval you so urgently sought, would be deeply proud of who you have become?

In the voice of a beloved Friend, today and at some other times I have been present to the pride my father might have shared with me, had he met the adult I have become. It is good to recognize that my shame at disappointing him is largely leftover from childhood and my teen years. It does not serve me now; I am free to release it.

In the voice of a beloved elder, today and elsewhen, I have observed that my mother was proud of me during her long life. It’s a story I tell myself that I needed to hear her say it to my face, even knowing how often she said it to other people when I could not hear it. I am free to release my longing to hear it in her voice.

You have a light to share. Are you willing to use it to shine on your own gifts, as well as on the gifts of others?

IMG_1922I am willing to trust myself in chaplaincy, and to recognize that though I am not a perfect chaplain, my work is most often helpful. I am willing to acknowledge the skills I have developed. I am willing to recognize that my fear of appearing too prideful is no reason to hide my light.

You have so much love to give. Are you willing to allow yourself to love yourself? To cherish and care for all parts of yourself?

I will nurture the self that stands here. I will participate as fully as I am able. I will seek guidance. I see that there are personal amends to make, from the adult I am now to the child and young woman I was then. I choose to cherish the self that is here now and to forgive the judgments I have placed against myself.

IMG_1915A few days later, my body fits a little differently. I seem to be eating more intelligently. I’ve been sleeping better. I’ve been paying more attention to what I actually feel like doing, and making sure to create opportunities for joy and pleasure. The world is again much with me, of course – Facebook makes sure of that, along with snatches of radio news. I’m learning lots of history, herstory, hystory and hysteria (also histeria). I’m also noting once again that those of us who don’t pay attention to what has happened may be blindsided when the same tropes and techniques are used against us later.

But nothing in the real world today, even as scary as it sometimes is, matches the challenges I can give myself. And nothing takes away the sacred beauty of this life I am living.

Even when I attend a Board meeting of an organization that is more than 30% People of Color and observe that the Board is as lilywhite Anglo as it is possible to be, there are opportunities for Right Action.

Even when I fear that there will never be time enough to complete the work, there is always something that can be done here, now, to good effect.

Blessed Be.

–Maggie Beaumont, a week before Beltane, on the occasion of Second Degree


Browse Our Archives