Gratitude

Thanksgiving Blessings to All!

Cheyenne

My husband found her when she was about eight weeks old. He was on his way to work, up in the back country, and he saw her jumping at butterflies near a bar ditch. He decided if she was still there at the end of the day, he would take her home. She was still there...a beautiful black, tan, and white puppy - a mutt, but a very special one, sent to teach. First him, and in time, me. She picked us to be her guardians in this lifetime, fourteen years ago. She is slowly making herself ready to go home to the Goddess; sacred source. Hecate is her guide. I know she will receive safe passage back to that from which we all come.

I wanted to write about Cheyenne while she is still here with us. She's sleeping behind my chair as I type. I have had many, many dogs in my life. She has been different than the others. It has always been so clear to me that she was "sent." Initially, it was to help my husband get through a very difficult time. She didn't become "mine" until she was almost a year old...when my husband moved in and brought her with him. Yet, she has always been mine, as well. She was sent to me, also.

Were it not for Cheyenne, my marriage would almost assuredly have ended in the first or second year. If that had happened, I would not have learned all I now know about myself. I would not have learned how to incorporate a man into my life. I would not have learned to manage my, once, monstrous anger. I would not have learned tolerance and empathy. I would not have had the opportunity to know the totally original, complex, and maddening man who is my husband. Cheyenne kept us together. I knew if he left, he would have taken her with him. I couldn't bear to part with her.

These days, Cheyenne suffers from "sundown syndrome." As the light fades, she grows anxious and restless. She wanders the house and gets "stuck" in the corners. It's a hard thing to watch. She mostly sleeps during the day. She requires medication to be comfortable at night. I'm waiting for her to tell us it's time...time to go home. I don't think she's quite ready. I know we're not ready, but we'll do what is best for her.

My husband is devastated. I don't know this because he has said so. Devastated is not a word he would ever use to describe himself. I know what she means to him. I know she is the reason he was able to open his heart, the tiniest bit, and try to love again.

I know there are more lessons she wants to gift to us. My parents both died in a state of dementia. It was difficult to watch them deteriorate. It was difficult to care for them. It was heartbreaking. I was so angry at them. So, I am learning, through Cheyenne, to dig deeper and uncover a more profound level of love, patience, tolerance, and acceptance.

I often think I haven't had great periods of sustained happiness in my life. Yet, every time I've looked at this dog, for the last fourteen years, I have felt pure joy. I could not have been given a greater gift.

I love you, Cheyenne. I know one day our spirits will soar together. Until then, you live in my heart.

Manifestation

I've been practicing the Law of Attraction and, more importantly, letting go and trusting in the divine to bring all I need, want, and feel I deserve. That last part is keeping all I want from coming into my circumstance. Letting go of old thought patterns, regarding what I deserve and how things come to me, requires vigilance over allowing old ideas into my reality. For example, I was taught, as were many of us, that I must work hard for what I get in life. With that belief, it's difficult to believe financial abundance will come any other way. I keep reminding myself that I don't have to know how something will manifest, only that it will if I manage to keep my connection to the scared open and uncluttered. I am starting small. I have received conformation,from the PTB that they are listening and giving me what I want...just enough. I'm going to begin asking for more, not only financial abundance, but an abundance of health, love, friendship, etc. Meanwhile, my faith grows stronger. More and more of the time, I know all is well.

In a different vein, I went back to work last week. I'm a special education teacher again. Last year, I taught 8th grade English. I'm not used to classes as big as those were. I've always been a special ed. or reading teacher. I like working with smaller groups. It is so much less stressful and much more effective. I think once I've got a stranglehold on the paperwork, I'm going to like my job. I wrote a piece about my job last year, on another blog that sums up how I feel about what, where, and how I like to teach. It is as follows:


Fringe

I found out what my teaching assignment will be for next year - special ed - grades four, five, and six. I'm OK with that. This year, I taught eighth grade reading, actually, it was literature. I was hired to help out with the gigantic eighth grade class...too many kids, not enough teachers. I knew it was a temporary position. I'm OK with that, too.

I've never been a regular classroom teacher until this year. I was a special ed teacher for thirteen years and a Title 1 reading teacher for nine years. I liked the reading job the best. My current district was hoping to have a full time literacy opening next year, but, alas, funds won't allow for it.

I was torn between wanting the literacy job and wanting a room with a door. I really do not like the pod set up. It's like teaching in a fishbowl condo. There are five rooms along the edges of a common area. The rooms all have floor to ceiling sliding glass doors. As if that weren't bad enough, the doors are designed not to close all the way. So, there is a four foot, open entrance leading to each classroom. I know - it's all the rage...middle school philosophy and all. I hate that set up. The kids are always distracted by what's going on in the other classes, as well as what's going on in the pod. You can hear everything everyone says. You can see everything everyone does. By the way, I hate the word pod. It's creepy. It's reminiscent of that futuristic old horror movie where everyone was taken over by aliens. Whales live in pods. For them, it's a good thing, as Martha Stewart would say. Not so much for eighth graders.

Until this year, I'd always led a rather autonomous existence in the schools in which I've worked. This year, I was entrenched in the eighth grade pod. The other teachers were very helpful to me, the newcomer. I appreciate their efforts. The whole set up is just not me. All the while I was asking the universe for the literacy position, I was also asking for a door. The two don't jive in this situation. The room with the door won out.

I'll be back to setting up my own program. I like having some freedom within the institution that is a public school. It's hard to find. Freedom is not a top priority in a building housing 700 kids for eight hours a day.

My new room is smaller. That's fine. I'll be back to working with smaller groups of kids and, hopefully, feeling like I'm making some kind of a difference for more of them. It's almost impossible to give individual help to a kid when there are twenty plus others also wanting your attention.

My new room will not be in a pod. It will be adjacent to a pod...on the fringe, you might say. Ah, back where I belong.

Regrouping

Well, I've not blogged for a while...too much going on in my head and in my life. I don't really want to go into the negatives, other than to say I'm holding strong, for the most part, and the marital stuff is going to resolve itself, one way or the other, very soon.

For today, I'm remembering that I am an aspect of Source and I am loved. I believe one of the most important aspects of being a witch is having faith in the rhythms of the universe. It is sometimes very difficult to hang on to the belief that everything you need will come if you can just not block the flow by worst case scenario thoughts. My fear around not having enough money is palpable at present. Money is an ongoing thorn in my side. Yet, I have never not been able to find a way to come up with money in a pinch. Why would this time be any different? The trick is to not allow fear to extinguish faith.

Wicca is all about utilizing the magick available to us all. While I'm able to come up with money when immediately needed, I never have a surplus, and finding it doesn't come easy. Therefore, it's way past time to take a good look at what money represents in my life. What beliefs are stopping the flow? Do I believe I'm not worthy of more money? Do I believe I must work hard to get money? Do you see where I'm going with this?

I believe in the Law of Attraction. I believe like attracts like. Negative thoughts beget more of the same. Source will always bring what you're asking for - positive or negative. Right now, I can't see a logical way for financial abundance to come into my life. That's where faith comes in, doesn't it? I have to get to the place where I can say, "It's not my job to know how something will come to me. It's my job to step aside and let Sacred Source bring it to me."

Today, I'm going to let it go! I'm grateful for all I do have in my life. So, I'll stand aside and let the magick happen!

Blessed Be.

Inspiration

The poetry reading was so much fun! My friend, Stephanie was amazing! When I listen to her work, I often think, "Where did that come from?" Her insights are astounding.

Several other people read their work. Some of them were truly gifted. The whole experience inspired me to spend more time on my own writing. I think I might find the courage to read a piece, or two, in the not too distant future.

I felt very relaxed that evening. I didn't worry about getting home early, or what my husband might say when I got home. I just simply enjoyed myself. Hmmm...enjoying myself - sounds like a plan!

Metamorphosis

Well, it's been the better part of a week since my last post. My husband has been working for a friend; making repairs to her home. He has been very careful of the way he converses with me. I have tried to be loving and supportive, but at a distance. I've been way too involved in trying to "fix" his life.

It's a bit difficult to step back and watch, although I know I must. I can see his fear. The old patterns of our life together are falling away and he's not sure what to do. I know I must stand back and let the chips fall where they may. He'll either rally or he'll give up. I don't have a clue how it's all going to play out.

I'm holding my own, saying the things I need to say. Tonight, I'm going to a poetry reading in town. My friend is going to present some of her incredible writings. I still feel strong, although, when I wake up, my first reaction has often been one of fear. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach. My old self is falling away. Waking, lately, has been reminiscent of the way I've felt in the weeks after the death of a loved one. I'm resolute, however. There is no turning back. Can the caterpillar keep from becoming what it was meant to be?

I'm proud of the fact that I'm finally beginning to take care of my needs. It feels good. It feels right. My focus is clearing. The fog is lifting.

Light

I have always lived to please others in the hope I could get the love I so desperately needed, or in the hope I could make the other person happy. It has taken me to this point in my life to realize that happiness comes from within and is the responsibility of each person to cultivate it.

My relationship with my husband is no different. I have been trying to please him for twelve years. I have tiptoed around his moods. I have tolerated him moving from job to job. I have given him license to keep me under his considerably large thumb. He's not a bad person. He's just terribly frightened and doesn't have the necessary tools to deal with his fear.

He decided, last Friday, to quit his job, that very day! He has watched me rob Peter to pay Paul for most of our marriage. He has always made substantially less money than I. We have been having more financial difficulty this past year, due to our move to a new state. We bought a home, complete with mortgage. He didn't work for the first 6 months we lived here. Quitting the job was last of the proverbial straws. I told him before he did it, that he would have to move out if he quit. He did it anyway.

I immediately went to the bank and opened up my own checking account. I got a form for him to sign, taking his name off the deed to the house. I cried and cried. I was sitting in the bank, waiting to be helped, and I felt as though I was in a funeral parlor. The sense of the surreal , which often accompanies things that are perceived as tragic, descended upon me. I felt empty, drained.

When I returned home, my husband fell into my arms sobbing. He professed his love for me and said he didn't want to leave. We sat down to talk. We talked for a long time. I told him all the things I hadn't told him for the last twelve years...lovingly, not in anger. I explained, very clearly, that I was on a path of growth. I told him I had no desire to sit in the house because he's afraid I'll find a life and leave him. We talked about whether or not he wanted to support my growth, as well as whether or not he thought he would be able to make some shifts in the way he thinks and reacts. We spoke of many other things, including financial responsibility. In the end, we decided to try to build a new foundation under our very rocky relationship. Part of me wishes he had chosen to leave. We'll see how it goes. I will be paying particular attention to how I feel. I want to feel good.

This encounter has enabled me to see that I am ready and able to stand on my own. I have been feeling very connected and supported by Source. I have known all my life, that I would have to take this stand with someone in order to be whole. That someone turned out to be me. I feel liberated. I feel strong. I actually feel happy! My dear friend Stephanie often asks me what I really want. I usually get an image of Mel Gibson as William Wallace, in Braveheart, screaming the word, "FREEDOM!"

The great weight, which has been with me for many years, has been lifted and it feels safe to step out into the light.

Blessed Be.