Strange but True

Okay, here goes. I've not told all of this to anyone, though my husband has heard bits and pieces. When I tell it to myself it sounds so contrived and trivial that it hardly seems worth putting down on paper, but when it happened there was an unmistakeable feeling of rightness. The scientific way of the world scoffs at things that cannot be seen, touched, quantified, or experiemented on. I'm sure most people would scoff at what I'm about to say as too much imagination and not a solid grounding in reality. But it's not like that at all. It's more like this....

About twenty years ago I spent a few days at Kerr lake with my first husband trying to find a reason not to file for divorce. I asked for the trip to give him a chance to tell me something that would convince me there was enough good in our relationship to make it worth saving, worth working for. On the first day there my husband made it perfectly clear that he was satisfied with the way things were in the marriage. In no uncertain terms he told me that my unhappiness was my problem. He suggested I seek psychological help. Marriage counseling, he said, if it was needed at all would have to wait until after I had gotten myself straightened out. The rest of the three day weekend I walked by the lake alone chewing over what had been said. Asking myself two basic questions. Why am I so unhappy? And, what do I do next that will be the best for all involved? All along the edge of the lake I walked asking these questions over and over again inside my head waiting for an answer. I will admit, I wanted the answer to come from outside myself because I did not want the responsibility for making the decision that would disolve my marriage. No matter what the cause of my unhappiness I had been taught that as a woman it must be my fault. It must be because I wasn't giving enough of myself. Sentiments that were echoed by my husband that weekend. I either had to believe what I was being told, push the unhappiness deep inside and pretend everything was alright, or I had to believe in my own feelings. That meant breaking away from my husband and from everything I had been told I was suppose to want. I hadn't a clue how to do that.

At first I called out to God and Jesus. Coming from a good Christian family it was the first thing that occured to me. I knew it was a sham. I had tried all my life to conform to the ways of the church, to believe as those around me seemed to believe. But it never happened, never clicked like it was supposed to. And, as with everything else in my life I was lead to believe that was my fault as well for not trying hard enough. For a long time I sat watching the movement of the water. It was calming I felt my heart begin to move in unison with the graceful motions of the lake's surface, begin to open up. So it seemed natural that after a while I began to talk to the lake. It felt so good that I gave into it. I talked to it inwardly and outwardly about everything that puzzled me, about what I wanted. Slowly the two questions I had asked God changed into statements. I want to do what is best for everyone involved. I want to be happy. Show me how to do this. And the lake showed me.

I let go of every convention of proper behavior and gave in to the impulses that came to me from the lake. It felt like instinct, like knowledge, unlearned in this lifetime, that had lain dormant inside of me waiting to come out. I thought back to times in my childhood when the land had whispered to me, when the wind had lead me a chase to places where I had not been before. It had felt like this, but as I grew older it ceased to happend and I dismissed the memory of it as childhood fantasy. I was returning to innocense, to a way of being in the world that was uncorrupted. It is hard to explain and the words that feel right have connotations that invite dismissiveness. It was magical. It was otherworldly. It was an opening up to the spirits of the land and the water and the air and it filled me as no other religious experience ever has. It was as though I was remembering who I really was. Yes, that's what it felt like. Like remembering.

The things I did were not shocking. I walked into the woods and chose leaves from the ground. Asking as I picked up each one whether this was the right one. Some I got positive feelings about some not. Those that felt positive I kept. I found a smooth rock and an odd shaped twig. Then I returned to the shore and laid these out in a kind of artistic pattern, placing each one carefully, asking if it was in the right place, feeling the rightness or wrongness of it's position. When all the things I had collected were laid out on the shore I sat on my haunches and looked out over the lake. I asked the spirit of the lake to help me find the things that I was looking for. Help me find the happiness I wanted so badly but couldn't find in the life I had been told was the right one for me. I asked for help in finding the wisdom to decide what was best for all (I had an eighteen month old daughter at that time) and to give me the courage to follow through. I don't think all the watching, gathering and praying took much time. A few hours on day two. I didn't go looking for the spirit of lake the last day. Or for a long time after that. But I did find the strength and courage to do what was best for all. And twenty years later I think I've found as much happiness as I need to live a full life.

I divorced my first husband and a year-and-a-half later married someone else. We'll have our nineteenth wedding anniversary in December. When my father died in 1995 I returned to the Christian church and once again tried to fit in. For four years I tried, for my father's sake to be a good christian. One of the last things he said to me was that he regretted my having left the church. It didn't work out this time either. I made my final break from christianity in 1999.

Not being christian doesn't mean I have stopped praying. I pray pratically every day. More than I did when I was christian and I don't worry over my prayers. It just flows out of me now. Sometimes I pray to the elements, sometimes to the spirit of the trees. I have gradually come to accept that I am part of the neo-pagan movement though I haven't joined any group or particular way of worshiping. As a friend said recently, "I don't believe in one religion. I believe in all religions." As I enter my fiftieth year I find myself walking a path that few have taken. Every day brings the chance for new revelations new understanding, new places to start from. Sometimes the menopause hormones kick in and I'm a real bitch for a few days. Sometimes I give in and eat the last of the tub of ice-cream all the time telling myself I want to loose weight. Sometimes I find every excuse I can think of not to clean the house. I always forgive myself. I always come back to my center, meditate the monkey into a cage, light up the incence, leave a bit of cake on the mantle that I use as an alter, and remember who I really am. While I don't love myself unconditionally yet I'm at a place where the good days far outnumber the bad ones. And I can live with that.