I go both ways when it comes to reality. Paradox & duality turn me on. Reality also annoys the hell out of me, but this is okay. So does my fiancee at times. (sorry sweetie). Agitation can be very constructive and useful. I prefer it to om namah shivaya-ing my neighbors.
I'm not spiritual, exactly. I'm not religious. I'm not exactly atheist, and I'm not exactly woo woo. I'm a bi-ality kind of a gal. Sort of.
Eleanor was atheist. And a poet. And she wrote fairytales for grown-ups. That she illustrated with watercolors. Stories about Sheba the Amoebas and the Cat Who Winked. The cat that winked had a botched surgery (the doctor cat was supposed to fix his winking eye which was getting him in trouble with the ladies; instead the doc 'fixed' him. And so the winking cat became a 'pretty boy' as she calls him. He found a boyfriend and sang in the opera. She also wrote about Lucille the worm who once died (because the early bird gets the worm) and Lucille sang and sang and sang and all the creatures cried (including the angels) who felt her singing voice shouldn't be wasted on heaven, so they returned her to earth.
I met Eleanor when she was 92. She spent most of her time at her writing desk --waking up at odd hours to illustrate her little books. I lived with her for one month (as a housemate/caregiver). She used to dream about me. "You were wearing your tall boots and climbing the tree in my backyard. I wanted to join you!" and then I had a strange dream that she died. It was the afterlife, and she was wearing her wedding underwear and her white hair was covered in roses. She was with a white haired beautiful man. She said, "It's my wedding day and it's time to dance."
Three days later, I found her lying on her back in her room --in the same position she had been in in my dream. She went to the hospital and then to a nursing home. She wasn't there long. She got real sick. And then that was that.
Before she died, I asked her what she thought would happen after she died. I felt bad asking, and at the same time, I wanted to know. "Well, nothing! You go back to the earth and that is that! I don't really want to talk about it. It scares me a little. But I will say that it doesn't matter. What matters is if I lived my life. That's all you got you know. None of that other stuff matters, despite what people think."
I had been a sort of atheist for a few years --since graduate school subversively facilitated a war between my critical mind and my divine woo woo way of being. And since living for a winter in a cabin near Lake Superior. The divine woo woo didn't have much to say while I was figuring out how to keep myself clean and warm during a 2 month stretch of 20 below weather in a cabin without running water or any heat source other than a small wood burning stove. Woo woo felt kind of elitist to me all of a sudden. What does Tarot or Astrology or the Divine mucka wucka really have to say when you are stripped of your friends and family and former spiritual communities and addictions to personal fucking growth? Not much. Chop wood. Haul water. Soak your grains. Go for a walk to the ice fishing shacks. Wear long underwear. Be nice to your neighbors. You might need their help if your car gets stranded. Be nice to yourself when it is dark and cold and you are alone.
That winter turning into spring, when the sap began to rise and the green moss came with its beard through ice and mud, I had an epiphany. It went like this. "Fuck! winter sucked! That was harsh and cold and shit, I feel depressed." I wanted my woo woo friends back and I didn't. I wanted my woo woo reality back but I didn't. Creative intelligence seemed pretty fucking amazing. I liked the intelligence of what I saw and felt in nature happening around me. It was pretty neat to live on land with wild horses and bears and owls and eagles and not far from lake superior. The ice was cracking and moaning like the whales and who cares what sign the moon was in? or if that owl sighting meant something magical? SOf course it is magical. Owls are cool to see in nature, but it doesn't necessarily mean it has some message for me. The divine woo woo turned instead to mud and rain and slippery and bones and wild horses and evening owls and night and the rooster crowing at dawn. simple and to the point.
At Eleanor's memorial, a few of Eleanor's friends commented on how great it was that Eleanor was probably now discovering how cool life after death was. The woo woo part of me agreed, but the atheist part of me thought --how fucking retarded. Eleanor didn't believe in the afterlife or reincarnation or how great the death place was going to be. She was going to die, and that was that. I wanted to slap them to say that they should honor her by accepting her death as it is --it might suck a little bit more because it hurts to let someone go that fully to nothing. But come on! Sometimes the woo woo feels like a ploy to make you feel better about the things that suck. Some things suck. Death. Icy slippery winters. The bitter cold. Being poor. Having been abused as a kid or adult. Losing a friend to death. Illness. Heartache.
The woo woo part of me thought of the dream --of Eleanor in her underwear, getting ready for her wedding celebration to dance and quite possibly, to sing in a choir with Lucille the worm. And the atheist part of me thought of her ashes being scattered to the earth. The wind taking them away. The worms, not singing, but grateful for the bits of ash that add enrichment to the soil. And that is that.
I don't believe in past lives anymore. And I don't believe I'll be reincarnated after I go. I prefer the 'that is that' to the divine woo woo when it comes to death. I'm open to having grand adventures and all, and certainly, death will be one, but also, I'm open to this being it. Fucking live now! Get real. Go to a yoga class and stick your tongue out at the teacher for talking about your fucking chakras being open or blocked. Go to a supermarket and om in the candy aisle! Screw needing to focus on the fingers pointing to the moon or to the stars or the fact that your ascendant is being crossed by whatchamacalit planet. Who cares?
Of course, it is also fun to play with the divine woo woo. There was a solar eclipse early this morning. And it hit my Sixth house sun in Capricorn and my North Node. And maybe that is why I have to say what I have to say? And Pluto is fast approaching my Sun and so woo woo ka choo ka poo poo. And sometimes when i sit still and meditate I can feel the soul of my little baby in my belly, and I wonder where does she come from and what is she here to do? But then the atheism part of me kicks in and I remember that she comes from the fact that Tony and I love each other deep and wide, here and now, not yesterday or past lives or future incarnations, and that we had amazing, passionate sex one day and it created a big bang explosion inside of me that is no more or less than the most amazingly divine miracle because it is facilitating creation in a way that makes the woo woo seem rather silly and pale in comparison once again.
I'm not going to give it up for good. I might be a bitch about it. I prefer my woo woo to be the salted caramel to the cold, icy, wintry days. I don't need it every day, but once in a while, when I have it, it tastes good on the tongue and feels good in the mouth. It gives me pleasure. I like the pleasure of the woo woo once in a while. And I like the agitation of the other stuff. Life. Death. and everything in between.
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