By Bridget Robertson
I’ve learned to ride the wave of the currents. There is nothing like music to put you on those waves and finally set a course.
Trust either Mary Chapin Carpenter or Stevie Nicks to stop me cold. Just long enough to get out my emotional surfboard and stay on it, until I find new shore, one I have never explored.
“Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?”
Writer(s): Stevie Nicks
Copyright: Welsh Witch Music
On any day, one piece of music, some or many of lyrics can begin the journey.
The lyrics ask great questions. I have officially celebrated the turning of the wheel for the last thirty-five years, since I was twenty. I have watched and participated in the ever changing, many faces of the Goddess. This Samhain is different. The veil opened immediately after the Autumnal Equinox. Maybe it’s my life threatening cancer, maybe it’s getting older. Either way there are a lot of waves and landslides coming, more and more frequently.
Conventional wisdom would say turn to, or on a light. My wisdom says that light can be blinding. We seem to rush through the dark time of the year, holding our breath until the first signs of spring. Not now. Not this time. Not ever again. In a world that entreats us to squelch the dark as quickly as possible, I say it’s time to seek it, hold on to it and find the real beauty within it. It doesn’t need to be expelled. It beckons and needs to be explored. Today I found a brand new shore within it.
I found my tears, in “Landslide”, a song that I will just keep on repeat, until all the tears are finished wringing from my body. These are not just eye tears, no, my whole body is releasing floodgates of sorrows, losses and pain. In this dark there is a tenderness that is excruciatingly fragile and necessary. Embrace it and it will break. Touch it ever so gently it will send a comfort unlike any other. It will move through every nerve within you. Stay with it and it will offer a delicate, nuanced—–repose. I love that word. It’s archaic meaning is “give rest to”. Samhain and it’s Goddeses have found me a place of rest until the body tears and pains have finished this round.
I will spend the next seasons in the dark, exploring the deep end of the water, violent waves and caves. It is only frightening if I stop trusting myself to feel my way through. This is no place for eyes or the sight of light. It is both tactile and emotional. There are many sounds concealed here as well. All of them are music. Not all are harmony. Still, an invaluable orchestra that pleads to be heard. There are voices that want expression and words seeking writing. Some of them are internal. Most have external companions in this chamber. Once heard and felt they are my responsibility. Their expression is as vital to life as any we find in the newness of spring. Maybe more so. The land needs for things to decay, decompose and restore it’s fertility. It is the way of life. Without it, we become dust bowls swept away with every breeze and thought. Depth is my home. It is where I learn how to navigate the landslides. This is my unfoldment. This year I am one of the record keepers.
My portal is in music.
Blessings to all.