Towers at the End of the World

Here is the story I told around the campfire at the End of the World festival.  Before I get to that, you all should know, strangers are welcomed warmly, there is whiskey, a fabulous bonfire, and story telling at the end of the world.  <3

Once upon a time... there was a woman -- as she was out walking one day, she saw across a field a tower.  She was seized with a desire to climb the tower, so off she strode across the field.  

As she walked, fear and self doubt joined her. "It's too tall a tower, you can't do it.  Why would you even want to try?  Who do you think you are anyway, climbing a tall tower like that?  This isn't your field, you know.  You are probably trespassing."  As she walked, and they harangued, she had a realization that all the gods, the goddesses, the heroes that walk into battle with fear and mayhem and chaos... they may not only bring those things with them to aid them in the battle, they may also be feeling these things in their own hearts.  She said to fear and self doubt, "You can come with me, but you're riding shotgun and you are to aid and abet MY interests now." They simmered down a little at that, having been recognized and allowed to accompany her.  Now and again at a bump or a dip in a field they'd pipe up though.

She reached the tower and went in.  At each step she took, she folded a tiny paper crane (one tiny crane goes on the fire).  Each 1:1.  Each team meeting.  Each meeting with a boss, with product and program managers (starting with handfuls of cranes on to the fire), each presentation, each company meeting, each meeting with directors, each meeting with vice presidents, each step all the way to the top of the tower.

At the top of the tower she stepped out into the air.  In the far away distance she could see another tower.  Or maybe it was a mountain, at this distance it was hard to tell.  Between here and there it was only fog.  She couldn't see the bottom of the tower over the edge, nor the lands that lay between her and the next tower.  

And then the staircase on the inside of the tower started crumbling.  As it fell, she realized she couldn't go back the way she came up.  And then the outside edges of the tower started crumbling.  She took a deep breath and stepped off the edge of the tower (all the rest of the cranes go on the fire at once).  It is unknown whether all the cranes set free eased her landing with the lightness of their wings, or whether, untethered, they flew off into the sky.  As she hit free fall, she sang her people's daily practice:

At the edge of the world, I gaze at the moon

Light and shadow reflect light and shadow.

My heartbeat is magic, mystery enfolds me,

As I am blessed, I bless the world.

ALL THE WORDS

I have had ALL THE WORDS lately. It's been sort of awkward.  I go from not having words, to having so many that it overwhelms me and is possibly sort of overwhelming to be on the receiving end of.  I'm writing everywhere. Here, my old blog, my journal, a reflection practice, a gratitude practice, a side-project I'm working on, a couple paper and pen journals...

The need to prioritize all the words, so that I convey the most important information first, so I convey only what is necessary because there is not time for it all, is hard -- I don't always know what the most important things are until after I've started emptying my teacup.  My teapot is spilling all over the floor -- no mere teacup can hold it.  Again I hear the echoes of any number of people -- 'you're too much!  What am I going to do with/about you?'

I need to learn to step into and own my multitudes.  If I am to be too much, then accept my bigness and don't try to cut me down into something manageable for your tiny minds!  I AM LARGE, I CONTAIN MULTITUDES.  And yet... and yet, I don't wish to overwhelm.   It is a conundrum, no?

“Trust me, I'm telling you stories. ... I can change the story. I am the story.” ― Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

The End of the World

At the end of November, I am doing the End of the World event with the Wyrd Sisters. "Workshops on storytelling and the Tarot will be part of the festival experience." I received an email yesterday saying,

To start getting ready, if you so desire, in your meditations start contemplating the world’s end and (optionally) rebeginning. Contemplate legends and myths about the beginning and end of the world, and how those relate to your life. What are your own stories around the end of the world?

Worlds are ending and beginning every day right now, new æons beginning.  Each death brings with it the realization that each day brings the need to define a new "normal" -- and with quiet reflection of loss, there are some holes that simply can't be filled.  Space. New space to breath into.  And even the universes collide, the spiral dance twists in on itself, then out again.

Redefinition of self, no longer the hot destructive flame of burn out, but the long slow simmer of transformation, picking things one or two at a time from the crucible of personal alchemy and examining it -- is it part of the crucible, or is it part of the stuff the crucible contains?  What happens at the end of the world, which world?  Am I the container? Is the world the container? Or is the world the stuff in the container?  Does the crucible itself come to an end?

Abide - dissolve - continue.  

Calcinate - dissolve - separate - conjunct - ferment - distill - coagulate.

Teacher, in compassion, bless me. Bless me that I may cut the illusory visions of the bardo. Bless me that I may reconnect to emptiness and awareness.

The end of the world is now. And now. And now. And now.  And the beginning of the world is now. And now. And now.

I'm sure I'll have more thoughts to come.  This is just what I'm thinking about this morning...