When the 13th day on the month lands on a Friday, the culturally unfavorable attributes of each are multiplied by infinity. Friday, the day of original sin, the day Jesus died, the day of public hangings, in combination with 13, the number of steps on a gallows, the number of coils of rope in a hangman’s noose, the number of the Death card in the tarot deck, is indubitably designated as a day of portent and doom.
The pitiful suicide note of a window washer that was found with his body in a gas-filled room at his home and quoted in a 1960 issue of the Yorkshire Post, underscores its powerful, popular reputation, "It just needed to rain today - Friday the 13th - for me to make up my mind." Poor sod.
But up until the patriarchal revolution, both Fridays and 13s were held in the very highest esteem. Both the day and the number were associated with the Great Goddesses, and therefore, regarded as the sacred essence of luck and good fortune. Thirteen is certainly the most essentially female number - the average number of menstrual cycles in a year. The approximate number, too of annual cycles of the moon. When Chinese women make offerings of moon cakes, there are sure to be 13 on the platter. Thirteen is the number of blood, fertility and lunar potency. 13 is the lucky number of the Great Goddess.
Held holy in Her honor, Friday was observed as the day of Her special celebrations. Jews around the world still begin the observance of the Sabbath at sunset on Friday evenings when they invite in the Sabbath Bride. Friday is the Sabbath in the Islamic world. Friday is also sacred to Oshun, the Yoruban orisha of opulent sensuality and overwhelming femininity, and Frig the Norse Goddess of love and sex, of fertility and creativity. Her name became the Anglo-Saxon noun for love, and in the sixteenth century, frig came to mean “to copulate.”
Friday the 13th is ultimately the celebration of the lives and loves of Lady Luck. On this, Her doubly-dedicated day, let us consider what fortuitous coincidences constitute our fate. The lucky blend of just the right conditions, chemistries, elements and energies, which comprise our universe. The way it all works. The way we are. That we are at all. That, despite whatever major or minor matters we might think are unlucky, we have somehow managed to remain alive and aware. This Friday the 13th, let us stand in full consciousness of the miraculousness of existence and count our blessings. Knock on wood!
With blessings of luck and love.
xxQMD
Showing posts with label spirituality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spirituality. Show all posts
Friday, March 13, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
The Queen’s Chronicles: HAPPY NEW ERA
I don’t know about you, but I am so glad and relieved that we are finally in 2009. And just in time, is all I can say. The house-of-cards-culture of deception, cynical exploitation, excess and greed that has prevailed for the past decades has collapsed under the weight of its own consumption, crushing the lives and dreams of millions of people.
A new year, a new beginning, a fresh start is just what we need about now. New Year is a return to the eternal beginnings. Back to where there is only hope and promise and enthusiastic, well-intentioned energy. Back to the original big bang back seat cosmic conception where all things are possible.
Despite the dismal prognostications, there is definitely hope in the air these days, and excitement at the prospect of change. The freshness, idealism, and renewed faith in the future, even in the face of impending hardship, is palpable and vivifying.
Ironic, isn’t it? And so very heartening.
It is like the entire nation is waking up from a stuporous dream, drugged by too much food and drink, our adrenals depleted by years of operating in frantic overdrive racing to achieve, to succeed, to spend, to accumulate, to expand until we explode. Enough already. Basta!
Time to shake off the shroud of vacuous values and get back to the basics.
People everywhere are girding themselves for tough times ahead, but instead of resistance and resentment, I sense a sincere desire to live in a more conscientious, connected and authentic manner. A yearning for life built on principles that we can be proud of.
This fall I went to the 60th birthday party of a very old and dear friend. Due to budget constraints, the venue was the back room of a funkyish bar. The
refreshments consisted of pitchers of beer and sangria and scant little fried things. All in all, perfect for a college bash, but a bit strange for a room full of midlife women. Or so it seemed at first.
The birthday Queen specified no gifts, but requested a song, instead. And her adoring guests complied. They brought songs alright, complete with costumes and creative props. The show was fabulous — touching and hilarious. And there was dancing. Lots of dancing. It was a really great celebration, rich in all the right components. I can’t remember having so much simple down home fun at a party in a long time.
After all, how many poo-poo foodie parties can you stand? You know the kind I mean. “This cheese is so special, only two cows in the whole world make it! And it only costs $46. a quarter of a pound.” Pulease.
One of my New Year resolutions is to entertain more this year. Not big parties, but intimate dinners with six or eight people who can be depended upon for fascinating conversation and true communion. I am craving old-fashioned one-pot suppers — soups, stews, casseroles, salads. Good bread. Good wine. Good talk. Good quality time.
I remember my mother talking about the depression. It dashed her plans to go to college. Instead, she had to work in a fruit store. But she never complained about that. (Don’t get me wrong, my mother was a great complainer.) She always said about those years, “People stuck together then, and helped each other.” And, “We knew how to have fun.”
With this new year we enter a new era. The main challenge that we will face in these uncertain times is not the economy. Nor is it the unnerving and seemingly psychotic political scenarios being played out all around the world. Not to mention the grief that they create.
Our challenge is to stay in our center come what may. Our challenge is to breathe in the energy of the life force and to exhale respect, reverence and awe. Our challenge is to be unshakeable in our faith. To share our love. And to shine our spiritual light.
This year may we discover and embrace our own purpose, passion and power.
May we accept our responsibility and our rule. May we take our ideas and our skills and use them to create a viable, safe, sustainable and sane world for us all.
With blessings of peace and joy. Peace! And joy!
xxQMD
A new year, a new beginning, a fresh start is just what we need about now. New Year is a return to the eternal beginnings. Back to where there is only hope and promise and enthusiastic, well-intentioned energy. Back to the original big bang back seat cosmic conception where all things are possible.
Despite the dismal prognostications, there is definitely hope in the air these days, and excitement at the prospect of change. The freshness, idealism, and renewed faith in the future, even in the face of impending hardship, is palpable and vivifying.
Ironic, isn’t it? And so very heartening.
It is like the entire nation is waking up from a stuporous dream, drugged by too much food and drink, our adrenals depleted by years of operating in frantic overdrive racing to achieve, to succeed, to spend, to accumulate, to expand until we explode. Enough already. Basta!
Time to shake off the shroud of vacuous values and get back to the basics.
People everywhere are girding themselves for tough times ahead, but instead of resistance and resentment, I sense a sincere desire to live in a more conscientious, connected and authentic manner. A yearning for life built on principles that we can be proud of.
This fall I went to the 60th birthday party of a very old and dear friend. Due to budget constraints, the venue was the back room of a funkyish bar. The
refreshments consisted of pitchers of beer and sangria and scant little fried things. All in all, perfect for a college bash, but a bit strange for a room full of midlife women. Or so it seemed at first.
The birthday Queen specified no gifts, but requested a song, instead. And her adoring guests complied. They brought songs alright, complete with costumes and creative props. The show was fabulous — touching and hilarious. And there was dancing. Lots of dancing. It was a really great celebration, rich in all the right components. I can’t remember having so much simple down home fun at a party in a long time.
After all, how many poo-poo foodie parties can you stand? You know the kind I mean. “This cheese is so special, only two cows in the whole world make it! And it only costs $46. a quarter of a pound.” Pulease.
One of my New Year resolutions is to entertain more this year. Not big parties, but intimate dinners with six or eight people who can be depended upon for fascinating conversation and true communion. I am craving old-fashioned one-pot suppers — soups, stews, casseroles, salads. Good bread. Good wine. Good talk. Good quality time.
I remember my mother talking about the depression. It dashed her plans to go to college. Instead, she had to work in a fruit store. But she never complained about that. (Don’t get me wrong, my mother was a great complainer.) She always said about those years, “People stuck together then, and helped each other.” And, “We knew how to have fun.”
With this new year we enter a new era. The main challenge that we will face in these uncertain times is not the economy. Nor is it the unnerving and seemingly psychotic political scenarios being played out all around the world. Not to mention the grief that they create.
Our challenge is to stay in our center come what may. Our challenge is to breathe in the energy of the life force and to exhale respect, reverence and awe. Our challenge is to be unshakeable in our faith. To share our love. And to shine our spiritual light.
This year may we discover and embrace our own purpose, passion and power.
May we accept our responsibility and our rule. May we take our ideas and our skills and use them to create a viable, safe, sustainable and sane world for us all.
With blessings of peace and joy. Peace! And joy!
xxQMD
Saturday, December 20, 2008
The Queen’s Chronicles: THOUGHTS ON EARLY MORNING SOLSTICES
I've been getting a lot of calls from folks asking about when this year’s Winter Solstice is.
“It's this Sunday,” I tell them.
“Oh, great! Sunday!” they happily reply. (Meaning “Finally a day when I can actually come, because I don't have to work.”) Then they ask, “What time?”
“The ceremony starts at 6:30 AM,” I cheerfully inform them.
“Oh. Well, have a good time!” (Meaning, “I'll think of you out there in the freezing snow as I roll over for four more hours of sleep.”
Every soulstice for the past 34 years I have trekked out — no matter what time, what weather, what infirmity — to invite the sun back into our lives.
Every year, I think that I will be all alone in the dark-freezing-wind-rain-snow at some weird inconvenient hour. That no one else will get up out of their flannel sheets to drum and chant the sun back.
But every year, people do come. And you know what? The toughest, hardest, worst weather, worst-timed events are always everybody's favorite. They are the best memories!
And there is always something hard about the Winter Solstice!
“Remember when it was pouring and we fanned the flames of the fire with our umbrellas?”
“Remember the time the ritual bus broke down in Brooklyn? Broke down in Staten Island? On the Verrazano Bridge?”
“Remember when I wrapped the cast on my broken ankle in a garbage bag so I could walk on the sand of the Atlantic Ocean beach for the solstice fire?”
“Remember when we were all arrested? And ultimately vindicated?”
Oy! During the past 34 years I have learned that it is a very difficult thing, indeed, to bring back the sun. To encourage light and warmth in a cold, dark environment.
But it is so worth the effort!
The exact solstice moment is 7:04AM EST this Sunday morning. Adjust the time to your local zone.) You can celebrate wherever you are. Just get up and go outside, preferably somewhere green. And greet the sun. Align your energy with it. Pledge to be a light in the world. What better ritual could there be?
With bright soulstice blessings,
xxQMD
“It's this Sunday,” I tell them.
“Oh, great! Sunday!” they happily reply. (Meaning “Finally a day when I can actually come, because I don't have to work.”) Then they ask, “What time?”
“The ceremony starts at 6:30 AM,” I cheerfully inform them.
“Oh. Well, have a good time!” (Meaning, “I'll think of you out there in the freezing snow as I roll over for four more hours of sleep.”
Every soulstice for the past 34 years I have trekked out — no matter what time, what weather, what infirmity — to invite the sun back into our lives.
Every year, I think that I will be all alone in the dark-freezing-wind-rain-snow at some weird inconvenient hour. That no one else will get up out of their flannel sheets to drum and chant the sun back.
But every year, people do come. And you know what? The toughest, hardest, worst weather, worst-timed events are always everybody's favorite. They are the best memories!
And there is always something hard about the Winter Solstice!
“Remember when it was pouring and we fanned the flames of the fire with our umbrellas?”
“Remember the time the ritual bus broke down in Brooklyn? Broke down in Staten Island? On the Verrazano Bridge?”
“Remember when I wrapped the cast on my broken ankle in a garbage bag so I could walk on the sand of the Atlantic Ocean beach for the solstice fire?”
“Remember when we were all arrested? And ultimately vindicated?”
Oy! During the past 34 years I have learned that it is a very difficult thing, indeed, to bring back the sun. To encourage light and warmth in a cold, dark environment.
But it is so worth the effort!
The exact solstice moment is 7:04AM EST this Sunday morning. Adjust the time to your local zone.) You can celebrate wherever you are. Just get up and go outside, preferably somewhere green. And greet the sun. Align your energy with it. Pledge to be a light in the world. What better ritual could there be?
With bright soulstice blessings,
xxQMD
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Saturday, November 8, 2008
The Queen’s Chronicles: RETREAT DEFFERED
My birthday is rarely a party time any more. Cake and low-fat frozen yogurt are now longer the fulfilling richness I seek in my birthday celebrations. A party just doesn’t feed me, although last year on my birthday I made a dinner party for all of the dear ones in my life who do feed me, help me in all sorts of ways in every aspect of my living — my work assistants past and present, my acupuncturist, my hair cutter, my car mechanic, my mentor, my agent, my oh so ever-helpful lover. I wanted to thank them with conviviality, good food and spirit.
But normally I prefer — crave, actually — solitude and silence. For me, my birthday is a profound opportunity to take serious personal stock. It is the perfect time to check in with my deepest and best self to evaluate the past year and to project the next. “How am I doing?” as old Ed Koch, former mayor of New York City, would always ask. How have I coped? Changed? Succeeded? How am I stuck? What have I learned? And what can I just not get through my thick skull?
For the past thirty years, I have retreated to some extent and fasted to some degree for a one-to-two week period around my birthday, during which time I devote myself entirely to purifying my body, my home, my thoughts, my emotions, my intentions. I keep a series of Birthday Books in which I process my impressions and my lessons, plot my progress, ponder my problems, plan my goals.
I scrub my house. I cleanse my toxins with juices, broths, teas and herbs. And release my tensions with long walks in nature and luxuriantly long baths. I release my inhibitions with yoga and trance dance. I purge my possessions along with the detritus of my mind by culling files, by pruning irrelevance. I plan potlatch giveaways, and extreme throw aways.
This introspective birthday ritual is my way to center myself. To sharpen my focus, realign my perspective and rededicate myself to living the very best life I can. I emerge with energy and enthusiasm, my path re-consecrated with purpose, passion and power. This annual reunion with myself is crucial to my well-being and the purity of my spiritual work. And attendance is required. Or else!
Because of a crazy schedule of personal and professional commitments, I couldn’t do my customary birthday fast and retreat in September this year. And I have really been paying the price for having missed it. For these past two months I have been out of sorts, out of patience, out of my body, out of steam. Generally down and out.
Now that the mad rush of September and October are over and I am feeling so soul bereft and bone weary exhausted, I am determined to have my deferred retreat. I hereby claim the next ten days as mine and mine, alone. Starting now!
My birthday is rarely a party time any more. Cake and low-fat frozen yogurt are now longer the fulfilling richness I seek in my birthday celebrations. A party just doesn’t feed me, although last year on my birthday I made a dinner party for all of the dear ones in my life who do feed me, help me in all sorts of ways in every aspect of my living — my work assistants past and present, my acupuncturist, my hair cutter, my car mechanic, my mentor, my agent, my oh so ever-helpful lover. I wanted to thank them with conviviality, good food and spirit.
But normally I prefer — crave, actually — solitude and silence. For me, my birthday is a profound opportunity to take serious personal stock. It is the perfect time to check in with my deepest and best self to evaluate the past year and to project the next. “How am I doing?” as old Ed Koch, former mayor of New York City, would always ask. How have I coped? Changed? Succeeded? How am I stuck? What have I learned? And what can I just not get through my thick skull?
For the past thirty years, I have retreated to some extent and fasted to some degree for a one-to-two week period around my birthday, during which time I devote myself entirely to purifying my body, my home, my thoughts, my emotions, my intentions. I keep a series of Birthday Books in which I process my impressions and my lessons, plot my progress, ponder my problems, plan my goals.
I scrub my house. I cleanse my toxins with juices, broths, teas and herbs. And release my tensions with long walks in nature and luxuriantly long baths. I release my inhibitions with yoga and trance dance. I purge my possessions along with the detritus of my mind by culling files, by pruning irrelevance. I plan potlatch giveaways, and extreme throw aways.
This introspective birthday ritual is my way to center myself. To sharpen my focus, realign my perspective and rededicate myself to living the very best life I can. I emerge with energy and enthusiasm, my path re-consecrated with purpose, passion and power. This annual reunion with myself is crucial to my well-being and the purity of my spiritual work. And attendance is required. Or else!
Because of a crazy schedule of personal and professional commitments, I couldn’t do my customary birthday fast and retreat in September this year. And I have really been paying the price for having missed it. For these past two months I have been out of sorts, out of patience, out of my body, out of steam. Generally down and out.
Now that the mad rush of September and October are over and I am feeling so soul bereft and bone weary exhausted, I am determined to have my deferred retreat. I hereby claim the next ten days as mine and mine, alone. Starting now!
Thursday, October 2, 2008
The Queen’s Chronicles: HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL
It is hard to stay hopeful when you are worried to death. It requires determined attention and an exquisite combination of focus, concentration and surrender. It is an exercise of discipline, a test of faith, a karmic obligation.
During a recent ceremony of deep cleansing and release, I passed a set of Guatemalan worry dolls around the circle to help us relinquish the nagging apprehensions and insidious anxieties that sap our strength and resolve. All those sneaky, nasty, niggly worries that worm their way into our brains and take up our good time.
Worry dolls are wonderful. There is nothing you can’t tell them. Absolutely nothing shocks them, they’ve heard it all before. And whatever it is that troubles you, they take care of it. Get rid of it. Swallow it. Spirit it away. It is their job, and they are professionals.
What at tremendous relief it is to hand over your distress to someone else to deal with.
As each participant took the tiny figures into the palm of her hand,
s/he would allow the flood gates of her heart to open, and let loose a stream of sadness, stress, panic, guilt, worst-case scenarios, and catastrophic fears.
When the dolls reached Anita, a woman in her late sixties, she calmly declared, “I don’t worry. I hope.”
Brilliant! I felt five decades of self-conscious, conscientious pollyannaism vindicated by the tranceparent truth of that one simple statement. Talk about positive reinforcement.
There are those who say that hope is futile, a waste of time, of precious energy. They contend that hope is completely unrealistic. Simply wishful thinking, they insist. And I say, “Yes. It is, and thank goodness!”
Studies show that optimistic people consistently out-perform those who consider themselves to be more realistic, because they place fewer restrictions on themselves. If you don’t know that something is impossible, you are more likely able to be able to do it. “I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.”
While we often have little or no control over the situations that affect us, we do have control over our own perceptions of them. We do have the very real and extremely potent power of perspective. And we definitely possess the crucial and vitally influential choice of how we will deal with whatever comes our way. How we will handle ourselves.
In a wide range of happiness studies conducted lately, including several with major lottery winners, it was clearly demonstrated that professional, educational, or financial success are not predictors of contentment. Nor are gender, age, race, religion, health, or ethnic background.
The key, common factors across the board that seem to determine satisfaction, peace of mind, and yes, happiness, are: optimism, self-confidence, self-control, connection to community, and living sense of spirituality. And, I might add, the desire to be so.
Take me, for instance. I was the most miserable of children. Painfully shy, sadly confused, and badly bruised; constantly abused by great chilly blasts of debilitating negativity. All I ever wanted was to be happy. When an adult would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would — in my imagination where I dared — answer, “Happy.”
I hung hand lettered and illustrated affirmations (before there was a word for such things) all over my room: I WANT TO BE HAPPY. I WILL BE HAPPY. And then, when I was eighteen years old and living away from home for the first time, it suddenly, incredibly, indelibly occurred to me one marvelous morning that I could be anybody I wanted to be. I could be a happy person!
Happiness is fleeting (as is pain.) The trick is to court it, to recognize it — even in camouflage, to acknowledge it’s presence when and where we least expect it, to celebrate each second of the healing heart and soul of it, and to rejoice in our own exhilarating ability to create it for ourselves and others at any given moment, in any circumstance.
“If you are happy and you know it, clap your hands.”
With blessings of inner contentment,
xxQMD
During a recent ceremony of deep cleansing and release, I passed a set of Guatemalan worry dolls around the circle to help us relinquish the nagging apprehensions and insidious anxieties that sap our strength and resolve. All those sneaky, nasty, niggly worries that worm their way into our brains and take up our good time.
Worry dolls are wonderful. There is nothing you can’t tell them. Absolutely nothing shocks them, they’ve heard it all before. And whatever it is that troubles you, they take care of it. Get rid of it. Swallow it. Spirit it away. It is their job, and they are professionals.
What at tremendous relief it is to hand over your distress to someone else to deal with.
As each participant took the tiny figures into the palm of her hand,
s/he would allow the flood gates of her heart to open, and let loose a stream of sadness, stress, panic, guilt, worst-case scenarios, and catastrophic fears.
When the dolls reached Anita, a woman in her late sixties, she calmly declared, “I don’t worry. I hope.”
Brilliant! I felt five decades of self-conscious, conscientious pollyannaism vindicated by the tranceparent truth of that one simple statement. Talk about positive reinforcement.
There are those who say that hope is futile, a waste of time, of precious energy. They contend that hope is completely unrealistic. Simply wishful thinking, they insist. And I say, “Yes. It is, and thank goodness!”
Studies show that optimistic people consistently out-perform those who consider themselves to be more realistic, because they place fewer restrictions on themselves. If you don’t know that something is impossible, you are more likely able to be able to do it. “I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.”
While we often have little or no control over the situations that affect us, we do have control over our own perceptions of them. We do have the very real and extremely potent power of perspective. And we definitely possess the crucial and vitally influential choice of how we will deal with whatever comes our way. How we will handle ourselves.
In a wide range of happiness studies conducted lately, including several with major lottery winners, it was clearly demonstrated that professional, educational, or financial success are not predictors of contentment. Nor are gender, age, race, religion, health, or ethnic background.
The key, common factors across the board that seem to determine satisfaction, peace of mind, and yes, happiness, are: optimism, self-confidence, self-control, connection to community, and living sense of spirituality. And, I might add, the desire to be so.
Take me, for instance. I was the most miserable of children. Painfully shy, sadly confused, and badly bruised; constantly abused by great chilly blasts of debilitating negativity. All I ever wanted was to be happy. When an adult would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would — in my imagination where I dared — answer, “Happy.”
I hung hand lettered and illustrated affirmations (before there was a word for such things) all over my room: I WANT TO BE HAPPY. I WILL BE HAPPY. And then, when I was eighteen years old and living away from home for the first time, it suddenly, incredibly, indelibly occurred to me one marvelous morning that I could be anybody I wanted to be. I could be a happy person!
Happiness is fleeting (as is pain.) The trick is to court it, to recognize it — even in camouflage, to acknowledge it’s presence when and where we least expect it, to celebrate each second of the healing heart and soul of it, and to rejoice in our own exhilarating ability to create it for ourselves and others at any given moment, in any circumstance.
“If you are happy and you know it, clap your hands.”
With blessings of inner contentment,
xxQMD
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