The other night I laid down to go to sleep, and a gaping hole of loss opened up inside of me. The house, my way of life – it’s gone. Normal will change forever; as part of this process, the entire structure of my house is being raised 10 feet. So even the parts that weren’t damaged will have a different view, a different feel.
My ability to go before the gods is gone, too, even if temporarily. I can do Senut, sure – but I am deeply missing the work of the priesthood. It is satisfying work, work that fulfills, work that feeds a part of me that I can barely even sense when I am not engaged in it. Even Senut is dicey, with housekeeping staff in and out of the room, sickness settling in due to cramped quarters, and the restrictions on candles and incense as if I were back in the dorms.
What can I do? I can wait. In time, the house will be finished; we will have the ability to go back and start putting the pieces back together. The journey has been troubling – we have been blocked at what feels like every turn by politics, poor communication, policies changing last minute… we have been on a merry-go-round of paperwork. I pray, with all my heart, that this change will usher in more stability in my life.
And… I can acknowledge the gods in my own small ways: seeing the sunrise, singing in the car, teaching a child, loving a friend.
carrying their light 
Perhaps it’s not “greater stability” in a Pre-Sandy definition that emerges on the other end of this, but a different kind of stability — a stability not dependent on (or sought from) things external to yourself. While it is wonderful and desirable for stability of home, family, health, finances, etc to be part of our daily existence, those are but momentary blessings we have virtually no agency in maintaining.
It’s not wrong to want those things, to ask for those things, or to enjoy those things when we have them, but to allow any of them, no matter how stable, to become an anchor for us is a dicey proposition. The Irish have a saying, “Dá fhada samhradh, tagann an geimhreadh,” or, “However long a summer, the winter will come.”
It is the best kind of stability that is not found in an home undamaged or a spell of good health for a loved one or one’s self. The best kind of stability allows us to go sail through undesirable periods without too much rocking of our mental/emotional/spiritual boat.
In many ways, you, personally, already possess that ability greater than many people. In other ways you likely feel that you do not, and making those adjustments over time is part of what your life and spiritual journey is all about.
Thank you for this – it is great food for contemplation (much more than thought)! I think that through a lot of this I have grown an internal stability I didn’t have previously. That’s something I’ve been mulling over – what have I gained in all of this. 🙂
It’s hard now, but time and change will fill that hole. And the Gods are with you always. *hugs*
*hugs* Thank you. Time and change can work wonders.
First and foremost, you are in my thoughts and prayers. It seems healthy to give yourself space to grieve these changes, these losses, while you wait for things to settle themselves again.
Also, while I know we only know each other indirectly through the House, if you would be comfortable with such and can receive mail at this time, there is something I have which I would like to send you which might assist re: incense/candle rules. You can email me at ekunyi@gmail.com if this would be of interest, and if not, no worries!
Thank you! The hardest part is finding the balance between taking space for myself and maintaining a connection with the gods. I waffle back and forth in times like these, but never seem to hit that middle ground. It’s a process.
And email is incoming!