|
Traditionally, the approach of winter, the autumn of life, has been the time of year to face our physical fears. We put on the costumes of death, ghosts and goblins, the skeletons of hunger and the creations of our worst nightmares, and say "You don't scare me!" We also expose a part of ourselves we are normally too afraid to show the public. or even admit to ourselves we want to feel. We shift our shapes and extend the boundaries of who we are. So after agonizing for six weeks about what to wear to the costume party, some of us remove our izod sweaters and put on something really tacky with fringe, or we cross-dress. We paint our faces as clowns, and maybe it actually feels good to be brazen and to make others laugh. Maybe we become a little less afraid of being thought a clown, of not being what we think others expect us to be. To shape shift, to put on the costumes and act out of character (yet act out a part of ourselves we wish we could be) allows us to push past the limits we set for ourselves. A shy person who dresses as Groucho Marx, who talks to everyone, who makes wisecracks all night and gets laughs, can never fully go back into her shell once the make-up is off. The transformation has started. When I was a teenager, I wore red a lot. People said it was my favorite color. Yet now I tell myself I can't wear red. When did this happen? And why? I know when I started believing I couldn't sing. I'd warble away and my mother would say, "Sherry, surely you can't feel that bad!" But a part of the adult me wanted to believe I could sing. knew I could sing. So the shaman in me faced my fear and decided to lead a three-day chanting workshop. True, I may never be Linda Ronstadt, but no one ran screaming from the room, and by the third day, I was singing a cappella with a voice from deep within me I never knew I had. Once I've worn red, and like the way I feel in red, I will have pushed my limits one step further out, and I will have come one step closer to removing the words "I can't do that" from my vocabulary, I can cross the boundaries of reality. I can become my spirit animal. I can fly, or become one with a rock. I can love and be lovable. I can pursue any career. The old me will no longer exist. The dance will have begun. Number XIII in most tarot decks is the Death or Transformation card. This rarely signifies physical death, but usually total change (voluntary or involuntary) and the sometimes sudden and unexpected, yet logical conclusion of existing conditions. Transformation is the end of a cycle, a releasing, letting go, a surrender to rebirth and new beginnings. In the Crowley deck. Death is dancing joyfully, his scythe releasing bubbles of new life. At the bottom of the card is the scorpion, who when trapped, stings itself and dies. This lowest level is the person who can't deal with major change and just wants to curl up and die, or becomes passive and waits for someone else to come along and make things better. At the top is the soaring eagle, the person with the courage to free himself, willing to consciously surrender to the unknown of death and transformation to change and to grow. Early in my shamanic training, I looked forward to the Death card appearing in a spread. Now I know how hard it is to surrender to and truly accept the loss of anything and everything I may hold dear-not just my life, but my job, independence, friends, family, lover. looks and/or my sanity. Hardest of all is to lose one's faith at the same time. No one else can go through this with you. You alone must feel out of control, in pain and confusion, and fearful of the black hole that exists before rebirth. To step into this void knowingly, willingly - to change careers, or to leave a long marriage of convenience which has been killing your soul. and to do this with no back-up plans - is to accept that within you is a part of the life force of the universe that will see you through. You surrender your judgments and preconceived notions of what is best. good or bad, and open yourself to all possibilities. Your new life has no limits or boundaries. You are totally free to find your bliss. The dance of death is the realization that you will survive the loss of who you thought you were, who and what you thought you needed, what you thought you could control. You smile with the sad excitement and anticipation of who or what you will become. I am a Pagan. Just as the world around me changes with the cycles of the day, the season, the years, I too am flowing, ever changing. I have my times of growth, my times of dormancy and rest. I weather all storms because I allow myself to bend The winter approaching may be harsh and seemingly unending, but within me and within the Earth I have planted the seeds of change that will blossom as new life in the Spring. |
|
Return to Fireheart No. 2 Return to Fireheart index page |
| #if TableFontColor #include footera.inc #else #include footer.inc #endif |