My coven celebrated Little Yule in a joyous ritual held at my home
during which we welcomed two new members. The Yule tree sparkles with ornaments
and multi-colored lights, and the house is perfumed with the aroma of holiday
baking. The winter solstice and Yule are almost upon us. With the coming light,
three months of shadow work is drawing to a close.
This season's shadow work began with an icy wake-up call from the Crone
on Samhain night when I found myself in my very own bedroom confronted by a
messenger dressed in black who tore chunks out of the door to a very real crawl space behind my
bed, then told me to "wake up." (See, When the Crones Pay A Visit, You Better Pay Attention)
About a week ago, I performed a chakra cleansing meditation,
felt marvelously calm, had a good night’s sleep and took a day trip with my
children. When we returned, happy and
fresh faced, I ordered Chinese, put my feet up and thought, “Wow—a whole night
and day has gone by—without at tap or a nudge.”
Later that night, as I boiled water for tea, I decided to open the last
fortune cookie. The message inside read,
“Before you can see the light, you have to deal with the darkness.” If I’d known what was around the corner, I
would have stopped chuckling.
The shadow work that
I have been engaged in since Samhain has led me deep into my personal darkness
with the ultimate aim of nurturing the light within me. I have meditated, read, journeyed, journaled, and
attended illuminating workshops and transformative rituals at Between the
Worlds, an interfaith esoteric conference.
In The Gates of Yesterday and Tomorrow, a powerful ritual held at the
conference, I promised in sacred space to let go of what I didn’t need and to move
forward.
I returned from the conference feeling energized and
enriched. School’s almost out! Yule is almost here! I’d been working hard! Surely, I’d delved deeply
enough, changed enough, moved forward enough. But the shadow work I’d chosen to
perform wasn’t finished. I had to
demonstrate that I had the strength of will to go beyond my comfort zone and
deep clean the house of my spirit. All that work had certainly opened me up for
a test that made me dig into the core of my being on many levels. It was a test
that I could only pass by casting away self-doubt—it was a test that I almost
failed.
Just after Samhain, I’d prayed for fruitful vision quests
hardly aware of what was ahead but willing to accept the Crone’s charge to “wake
up.” I am not typically a lucid dreamer.
Therefore, when I have a dream where I see with clarity, speak with
authority, feel the sensation of being pulled from the soles of my feet to the skin of my back, I’m pretty sure that I’m
being spiritually PMed.
I walk barefoot
through the dingy rooms of a dilapidated Victorian house at the top of a steep barren
slope with several narrow sets of dirty, old concrete steps. It is an unpleasant house, upon the drab
silent outskirts of a faded disagreeable neighborhood.
The rooms are dim--
the kind of twilight that greets you on a cold, dreary day. I feel squirming underfoot
and shudder with revulsion as I realize that I am walking upon tiny mice and
insects. Vermin infest every room.
The house is filled
with rusting—whispered secrets, scampering, evasions, and shadows. I know that
I need to “wake up” and pay attention to details. I
want to destroy this infestation because I realize with disgust they infest my
house. It may be shabby, dank and
inaccessible, the steps to the road may be treacherous and far below—but it is
mine nonetheless. I know that it’s my job to clean it. The job is so huge I want to run away, but I
can’t. Either I clean house or give up
and accept defeat.
I feel a very real physical
tug like the pull of tide. My body tingles with energy. The room darkens. Just
ahead is swirling pulsing vortex of red light.
I know that place is not meant
for me—that it’s not a safe place for me. I no more want to enter that vortex
than I want to put my hand in an InSinkErator
garbage disposal. But this is my
opportunity to get rid of all the psychic vermin once and for all. It’s my choice. . Words come to me. I speak them with
authority and conviction. I speak from the center of my will and push energy through
my solar plexus, “I banish you! Back! Back! Back!” The
darkness and vermin resist. I push
harder. I feel and see the vermin
coalesce and begin to stream away from me into the vortex.
I wake and reach for my husband’s warm, anchoring presence. I snort softly.
Of course what I want and what I need are at odds. If I were
a house—I’d want the world to see me as accessible, well kept, and full of cozy
warmth. What the Crone has shown me is a structure far from this virtuous
vision. My outward self—my conscious
effort and in fact a good deal of who I am and want to be and become is invested
in being this welcoming home. But the Crone sent me farther inward, to this shadowed
structure, to fulfill my promise and evict (if I so willed) pain and burdens that
I need no longer carry. After the darkest night, the light waxes—in the heart
of the shadows my own compassion and will to move forward create light. As I
fall into true sleep, I feel a toddler’s delight in her first steps.
