Slipping On A Patch Of Doubt

I’m slipping and sliding on a patch of doubt this morning. Nothing I could write seems appropriate. I don’t have a lot of time to write, and my heart is troubled.

However, doubt means one thing: you see how things could be better and it gives you pause. Which path leads to the bright future? Did you choose correctly or do you need to turn around and hit the turnpike instead?

My priestess tells me faith is based on experience, and that we don’t trade in beliefs but have faith.

So I’m digging down to find that abiding faith this morning and see what it has to tell me.

Do you find doubt points you to brighter possibilities? Do you have a type of faith, an experienced-based hope, that you can cling to when troubled?

While you ponder that check out this song from Don Charles and Deb Gessner, aka D-Squared, which is one of my favorites:

Did you think that you could come here and fail to be impressed with the terrifying beauty of the earth when she’s undressed?

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About Star Foster

Polytheistic Wiccan initiated into the Ravenwood tradition, she has many opinions. Some of them are actually useful.

  • kenneth

    If anyone doesn’t encounter doubt on a pretty consistent basis, it’s because they’re either not engaging the world or not bright enough to realize the gravity of their situation!

  • kenneth

    If anyone doesn’t encounter doubt on a pretty consistent basis, it’s because they’re either not engaging the world or not bright enough to realize the gravity of their situation!

  • Robert Mathiesen

    Have you considered whether the state of body and mind described here and in one or two of your other very recent posts might be a natural consequence of the initiation you underwent not too long ago?  The Gods, or High Reality, or whatever you might call them/it, do not exist in the same manner as you and I exist, and the unveiled experience of them/it is both terror and beauty, both agony and ecstasy, a profound shock to the whole system.  If so, give yourself time, lots of time, to recover.  (Not everyone reacts in this way.  Possibly your initiators did not, when they were initiated, and cannot tell you what is happening from their own experience.)

    In one old story, Merlin’s mother is a breathtakingly beautiful girl treated by her family more as a great treasure to be leveraged into wealth and power, than as a daughter and a person.  She wakes up one night in her locked and barred bedroom, and sees before her a Being in the form of a beautiful young man, who is made all of fire, and also made all of flesh.  She is frightened, but also something else wakes up in her, which she has not experienced beforehand.  Later she sleeps, and when she awakes, he is gone. She never sees him again.

    She tells no one what happened.  So sheltered has she been, that she does not know what it means when her belly begins to grow.  Her family think that they know, however, and her parents drive her out into the forest, hands bound uselessly behind her, to die.  But she lives, gets food and drink somehow, and eventually she finds help and shelter and gives birth to her son.  He is the first and last child she will ever have, for all her subsequent efforts to conceive again; and she sees that no later experience of any man can match the experience of her child’s father, not for her. 

    Years later, King Vortigern’s men pass through the land, seeking a boy with no father among men, whether living or dead, and so she must tell them how her son was gotten on her.  After all those years, it is the first time she has told anyone her story of that night.  But she can only say that at times the Being who got her with child seemed to be wholly of flesh, and then it was surpassing ecstasy; but at times he seemed to be wholly of fire, and then it was surpassing agony.  And, after all those years, she can no longer tell what the difference was between that surpassing ecstasy and that surpassing agony.  They have become one and the same thing in her memory of that one night, long ago, that changed her life forever.

    I hope this old story may help.  It is not an easy thing, the experience that you may have had, but understanding how humans can sometimes react to such an experience may put it in perspective.  Give yourself some years to adjust to it.  You’ll be fine in the end, I expect.  I am very old now, and I have seen a lot in my seven decades of life.  I think that my confidence that you will be fine in the end is well-founded.  Meanwhile, be kind to yourself, and patient.

    T. S. Eliot once wrote:

    “Go! go! go! said the bird.  Human kind
    Cannot bear very much reality.”

    • http://www.patheos.com/ Star Foster

      That story resonates. Thanks Robert!

      • Robert Mathiesen

        You are very welcome, Star!

  • Robert Mathiesen

    Have you considered whether the state of body and mind described here and in one or two of your other very recent posts might be a natural consequence of the initiation you underwent not too long ago?  The Gods, or High Reality, or whatever you might call them/it, do not exist in the same manner as you and I exist, and the unveiled experience of them/it is both terror and beauty, both agony and ecstasy, a profound shock to the whole system.  If so, give yourself time, lots of time, to recover.  (Not everyone reacts in this way.  Possibly your initiators did not, when they were initiated, and cannot tell you what is happening from their own experience.)

    In one old story, Merlin’s mother is a breathtakingly beautiful girl treated by her family more as a great treasure to be leveraged into wealth and power, than as a daughter and a person.  She wakes up one night in her locked and barred bedroom, and sees before her a Being in the form of a beautiful young man, who is made all of fire, and also made all of flesh.  She is frightened, but also something else wakes up in her, which she has not experienced beforehand.  Later she sleeps, and when she awakes, he is gone. She never sees him again.

    She tells no one what happened.  So sheltered has she been, that she does not know what it means when her belly begins to grow.  Her family think that they know, however, and her parents drive her out into the forest, hands bound uselessly behind her, to die.  But she lives, gets food and drink somehow, and eventually she finds help and shelter and gives birth to her son.  He is the first and last child she will ever have, for all her subsequent efforts to conceive again; and she sees that no later experience of any man can match the experience of her child’s father, not for her. 

    Years later, King Vortigern’s men pass through the land, seeking a boy with no father among men, whether living or dead, and so she must tell them how her son was gotten on her.  After all those years, it is the first time she has told anyone her story of that night.  But she can only say that at times the Being who got her with child seemed to be wholly of flesh, and then it was surpassing ecstasy; but at times he seemed to be wholly of fire, and then it was surpassing agony.  And, after all those years, she can no longer tell what the difference was between that surpassing ecstasy and that surpassing agony.  They have become one and the same thing in her memory of that one night, long ago, that changed her life forever.

    I hope this old story may help.  It is not an easy thing, the experience that you may have had, but understanding how humans can sometimes react to such an experience may put it in perspective.  Give yourself some years to adjust to it.  You’ll be fine in the end, I expect.  I am very old now, and I have seen a lot in my seven decades of life.  I think that my confidence that you will be fine in the end is well-founded.  Meanwhile, be kind to yourself, and patient.

    T. S. Eliot once wrote:

    “Go! go! go! said the bird.  Human kind
    Cannot bear very much reality.”

    • http://www.patheos.com Star Foster

      That story resonates. Thanks Robert!

      • Robert Mathiesen

        You are very welcome, Star!


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