A Coming Out, Of Sorts

There was a big Lunar Eclipse Solstice recently, something not seen since the 1500’s in that particular combination. It was really cloudy here so even when I got up early at 1:30 to see what was up, I couldn’t see it.

The moon was amazing though, earlier in the evening. Full and white and perfect.

This has been a hard holiday season for me for some reason. I’m feeling tremendously disconnected, stressed and sad, quite worried about many things. I think there are reasonable reasons for much of my anxiety-real things, day to day things and so forth. But there are also more meta, spiritual/existential reasons for my malaise.

I’m at midlife, age wise. I’m at midlife also in the path my life has taken. I’ve been married a good while. I have children nearing their teens. I am mid career. I’m mid.

Beginnings are generally sexier. I think about being in this mid life place, and it doesn’t always feel that great. I don’t have a wedding to plan, or a pregnancy to celebrate, or a college graduation to complete, starting my way in the world new and fresh. I’m not young. I’m not old. I’m middle. Aged. Middle aged.

Middle is where the trudging is. There is a lot of trudging, lately. Trudging towards what? Achievement? Change? Survival? Eventual diminishment? A completely new chapter perhaps, or new book of a life half over?

What am I saying here? I don’t know. All I know is that the moon is important to me and bear with me as I ramble, because I think it’s important. I need to come out to the truth that I am spiritual, that I need to come out about having some kind of weird secular/spiritual/metaphysic/physical agnostic faith and it is that faith (symbolized in my youth by a kind of wild or free-range Christianity and in my teen years by a desire for all that New Age Wiccan magic, and by a keen connection to systems, counseling and therapies in my 20’s, to the joy of improvisational now-nessing in my 30’s) that gave me a kind of energy, power, strength, even though I denied that I believed.

Faith and belief are totes not cool, ya know.

Much of that faith has been altered since my mother’s decline. I’ve denied that faith. I’ve denied a level of power in myself, avoiding that personal pain. Because she is fading away, is nearly gone. And that leaves me in her position after she is finished. With my children at their beginning. And why is life so random and cruel? I know of a lot of death right now.

What is it now, in my 40’s, the symbol of faith in people, the secular religiosity that I carry? Is it parenting? Writing? Being witnessed and finally standing on stage and being willing to fail? This “sexual literacy” I speak so much about? Communion of voices and confessions and gatherings in a theatrical space, where people merge and cathart, and tell their stories? It’s a bit like church, that. Do I minister?

Am I willing to take on the mantle of Mother?

Faith and belief may not be cool, but fuck those who would deny me that personal joy. If my power is in a completely non religious religion, a religion of people and community, then I want to claim that power for what it is, how it is, and coolness be pitied, for that cool distance only keeps us disconnected.

I want connection and I’m willing to admit it.

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