Ostara seems to me a time to honor Balance, adjusting between Winter and Summer and feeding the parts that have been neglected.
A strange month it’s been for me, with lots of travel and not much time for introspection. A conference, a long drive, a long train trip. Spiritual work, friendship, family.
During this whirlwind month I have:
attended a pan-Pagan conference with plenty of ritual observance, devotion, self-care, networking, and education – danced too much, partied too hard, and still got the work done;- driven through the Alleghenies
- attended a UU ordination, only the second I’ve ever been to;
- marched in procession wearing the robes and cords of my Pagan tradition;
- taken the train cross-country;
- spent several days with my eldest progeny;
- tried to write some fiction, which I hated when it was done;
- tried to write an essay, which was harder than I expected;
- learned that a book will be published this spring in which I have a chapter;
- seen both the full moon and the new moon.
Balance – at least, the extremes were in opposite directions. Is that balance?
I felt privileged and blessed to march in the clergy procession celebrating a UU ordination. I’m not UU clergy, but I am working towards clergy status in the Assembly of the Sacred Wheel, and I’m already a hospital chaplain. The invitation was open to anyone of whatever tradition who was already clergy or on the path.
It was an amazing feeling to stand in solidarity with a good friend, a fine Magician and Pagan practitioner, as he took up the mantle of Minister in the Unitarian Universalist tradition. It was also lovely, even poignant, to hear his many different strands of spirituality and theology woven so beautifully together into a visibly UU service. Balance.
Even these last couple of years seemed to go to extremes.
Last year I was a chaplain resident, working 50-60 hour weeks (including overnights where sleep was often possible). This year I’m working just a few nights a month, plus a little volunteer work. Less than 20 hours a week.
Last year I was chronically tired, gradually letting go of recreation – first, of dancing, which I just didn’t have the energy for after walking the hospital halls and standing in patients’ cubicles all day; but then, painting, and then walks in the park, and finally even reading for pleasure, or seeing friends. All year the only reading I did (except for homework) was in the bathtub, 10 pages at a time while my back soaked in hot water before heading off to bed. All year the only complete novels I ‘read’ were books-on-CD in the car, mainly in 20-minute pieces on my commute. The only activity I was sure to do, besides work, was Pilates (without which this body would have crashed).
This year, residency ended in September. I kept up a brisk schedule of education, volunteer work, planning for the future, but I also kept plenty of ‘free’ time in the calendar. I spent more time with friends, saw a few movies, read a short stack of books, planned an exciting fall and winter of work in Advanced Care Planning (you’ve already heard me talk about death and dying and decision making www.patheos.com/blogs/naturespath/2015/07/retreats-consensus-and-death-and-dying/ ). Working to hold the dying person, as well as the family members who are grieving in advance.
Then the election happened, and I struggled for balance. During November and December I did very little that was not either political, or hiding. I made donations to organizations I had long appreciated from afar; I read more widely in political spheres I had been ignoring; and far too often I despaired, sinking ever deeper into my addictions to computer solitaire, to circling items in catalogs that I might ‘someday’ buy, to eating nothing but yogurt and clementines for a week until I realized I still need a balanced diet.
Now it’s March.
The weird weather of Ostara has led me out. I’ve traveled more this quarter than almost ever before, visiting Chicago, Panama, Los Angeles. I’ve seen more of my children and grandchildren than in any prior year of their adulthoods, except when we’ve hosted Thanksgiving extravaganzas at the big house we no longer own.
With each of them, in different ways, I’ve been doing ‘completion’ work – demystifying the secrets adults keep (in the mistaken belief that children can’t be affected by what they don’t know); apologizing and beginning to atone for the biggest mistakes of parenthood. Does this mean I’m aware of coming toward the end? I’m seventy, so both ‘of course’ and ‘probably not soon.’ Is it because they’re all in their 40s? Maybe. It’s been good, whatever prompted it.
Perhaps I’m in better balance now, but it seems to have come from swinging between excess. As I start the journey home, I’m also starting to think about what ‘balance’ will look like if I try it with fewer extremes.
Blessed Be.
–Maggie Beaumont, a few days past Ostara 2017
PS: During the train trip, I was struck by how much heroic architecture and statuary we have devoted to honoring travel. … and how much I’m lately feeling like both of the statues pictured.
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