Chant For The Fathers of Change

As a Father of Change, I have been thinking and working on modifying not only my perceptions of the world, but of helping other to do the same. If you have read my previous posts, you probably know that I try to look at the world through others' eyes to try and have honor, compassion, and understanding for all.

I sat down last dark moon to write out a poem, or something like it, and found my day absorbed as my creation turned into a chant, and then into a song. I found my self recording it and then editing it and rerecording it. After I recorded it and looked at the words I had written, I realized that it was meant to be for the Fathers of Change. Let me explain why.

 There are certain ideals that the Fathers of Change and the Mothers of the New Time, our sister effort in the world, have in common. Most of them are things that people agree with. There are a few things out there that some people may want to believe in, but they know the struggle with certain ideals daily. I think of this as Who I Am vs Who I Want to Be. Example: I really want to drink more water daily because its good for me, but I don't. I keep at it daily, trying to drink that water in the hopes that one day I will do it without thinking about it.

People like me who have been wronged, injured, abused, or controlled by someone else often don't want to forgive our attackers/aggressors. We allow it to bleed over into our lives and it colors how we view people that have something in common with our attacker. I didn't want to honor certain types of people because they held a position of authority similar to the person who injured me. Or, in my mind, I accused people I had never met because they dressed like someone who had beat me. And, I wouldn't talk or interact with one of my bosses because he reminded me of someone who had raped me. I can say I have empathy for women who have been abused by a man and now constantly struggle to trust the other men in their lives. This is part of what I choose to send my energies out to when I perform my Fathers of Change ritual. To stop these types of things from happening, to heal those who have been hurt, and to change the perceptions of the society that these aggressors came from, as well as the aggressors personally.  I honestly send out the energy of change every time I do any ritual. This is the change I seek. Honor for all, and release from the pain that stands in the way of this change.

I have learned that in order to create change and manifest new thoughts, ideas, and emotions, you have to hold the container, the space, for them. That can be hard to do when you have a lifetime worth of memories, thoughts, ideals, and baggage crowding into the precious space you are struggling to create for change. The song I wrote helps me burn away that baggage and open the space for the change I wish to create. I feed the crap in my life to the fires of change and they burn away what I don't need and that which no longer serves my highest good. It frees my mind and heart to work on change. And, yes sometimes the crap comes back. I just have to keep working at it. The fires of change are always there and no one said change was easy. I hope this will help you in some way as much as it helps me.

The words are :

Fire changing, fire flowing, take this fuel and keep on growing.
By the power of the sun, with your flame our will be done.

Grant to us some clarity, by your light please let us see.
Blame and failure hold us back, binding feet, obscuring paths.

Fire changing, fire flowing, take this fuel and keep on growing.
By the power of the sun, with your flame our will be done.

Take these things already learned, take these things and let them burn.
By your fires let them die, these things we hold too tightly by.

Fire changing, fire flowing, take this fuel and keep on growing.
By the power of the sun, with your flame our will be done.

Take these things ourselves we blame, take these things our source of shame.

By your fire let us learn the truth about the things we yearn.

Fire changing, fire flowing, take this fuel and keep on growing.
By the power of the sun, with your flame our will be done.

Fire, Fire. Take our pain. Fire, Fire. Help us change.

-Gatekeeper Jey, copyright 2013

A link to a YouTube clip of the song is here. If you want to download it the song file click here. 

A word of warning: I have never done anything like this before. Check the recording volume before you play it. It was recorded on a old USB headset I use for gaming, so I didn't have fine control over the quality.  

Feel free to use this in public rituals, private rituals, personal use and walking down the street :) . Share it as you feel you should, but please be respectful and credit or cite this page and myself as needed. 

If you have any questions or comment, please feel free to post them or write me privately. 

Gatekeeper Jey

Messages in Retreat

Wind said:

If you never let go of the ground then how can I lift you into the clouds...

Water said:

Your reflection is not what you see. It is what you feel and think when you see it...

Earth said:

Care for me and I will care for you...

Fire said:

The seeds have been planted. They will grow...

Ego said:

Sit here and look mysterious...

Body said:

Stop being a dick, your hurting yourself...

Sun said:

Relax... If you fall they will catch you...

The Universe said:

Be at peace...


Gatekeeper

Dreams through a childs eyes

I remember walking into a small mom and pop corner grocery store. They still had a bell that rang when I entered, not the annoying buzzer thing I hear nowadays. I could tell that it was night time because the lights in the store were spread out enough that they created little pockets of shadowy space every few feet. When I walked a few paces in the door I turned to the right and looked up at the elderly asian man towering above me. I can't see over the counter very well as it is right at eye level. I remember glancing at all of the things crowded in the tiny space behind the man, but none of them were what I had come looking for.  He suggested a few things, but the words never seemed to make it to my ears, only the gestures and the shift of his gaze told me what he was offering me to try.
 
Not finding what I was looking for behind the counter I turned my feet down the isle running along side it. Though my feet moved at my normal gate, I did not cover as much ground as I should have. My legs were much shorter here and seemed dreamy in their walk, disconnected somehow. There was a slight scratchy sound as my feet moved along the the linoleum floor with a slight gritty feeling under my feet. As I slowly walked between the light and darkness, down the isle, my eyes fell upon the glass cases at the back of the store. I was mesmerised. I knew instantly that what I was looking for was to be found there. I was drawn to the humming cases. My ears picked out the high keening of the fluorescent lights within as my eyes flicked over their contents.  My instincts told me that I had seen what I was looking for here. I know it had been here before.

I reached the back cooler case where one wall met another wall and made an odd corner case. Slowly I passed the first door and then the second, at the third door I looked beyond the glass to see a chocolate fantasy. It was layered with finger wide bands of dark and light chocolate. Back and forth the chocolates switched, easily reaching a towering height of over a foot tall. It was crowned with whipped cream and a gleaming cherry.  The glass looked like it had been blown around the chocolate creation so deftly that it lifted and cradled it's contents as to not just hold, but offer them up to me. It was holding forth its charge for me, and me alone.

There was no hesitation. I knew there was money in my pocket to pay for this, so I opened the case and drank it down. In the back of my mind I expected it to be like a mouse or parfett, but it was liquid joy. Between the space of three breaths I drank the entire thing. The craving I had for this confection was beyond my need for breath, and I had nothing in my mind or body that was focused on anything else. I finished without even closing the door on the case, my slender leg still propping it open. I could feel the cold air rushing around my thigh.

Then with a contented sigh I let the door close and turned to make my way back to the counter to pay for my bliss. Just then a beautiful young lady turned the corner from an isle and we came face to face. At first her beauty was stunning. But then I saw her youth granted beauty had begun to fade. Her hair was a little lackluster and mussed. Her careworn brow and smile bestowed crows feet elevated her beauty. The way she walked when she had turned the corner and the almost scolding way she looked down at me once she recovered gave it away.  I realised then that she glowed with the inner grace and strength of a mother. Her face took on an odd expression. With a probing search of her eyes I knew she was looking not quite at me but strangely through me. Then a tightening around her lips traveled up to her deep drown eyes and I watched them change from questioning and seeking to recognition and sadness. She opened her mouth to speak, but  whatever she had been about to say seemed stuck in her throat. She closed her mouth slowly, shook her head, and turned and walked away. Her step seemed slower than when she had turned the corner and her head was lowered as if in thought. I could not quite hear her as she started speaking under her breath, but in a few seconds I caught the rhythm and cadence of her utterance. It was a prayer. One I knew but could not recall in my dream fogged state. I knew instinctively that it was for me, but did not understand why. I didn't understand her reaction. It was strange and I watched her walk down the isle with refrigerator cases on one side and shadowy isles on the other. I stood there and watched her walk away with her little blue plastic grocery basket swinging a counterpoint to her gate. She was still speaking under her breathe as she turned down one of the isles and stepped into a pool of shadows.

I jumped as the case next to me hummed to life in an attempt to keep its charges cool. Its sudden action startled me and I turned to give it a reproachful look. I then saw myself in the glass door. Reflected back at me was a small child. Well not small but not yet grown. Maybe a girl of 11 or so she was not quite a child and yet still not a youth. I was wearing simple clothing. A pretty yellow cotton dress reflected back at me. It was straight cut with little purple flowers sewn or embroidered upon it. The waist was synced in with a thin yellow ribbon. The frock fell mid calf and my feet were bare, or maybe I had simple sandals. I'm not sure which. Long night black hair hung past my shoulders. Tanned smooth cheeks framed guileless and soft brown eyes. Thin slender legs and skinny arms emerged from the dress. I saw a girl child reflected back at me. One who had just had a craving unlike any she had before. At a time when she should have been sleeping she was out searching for the answer to her need.

The Me started to supplant the dream childs awareness and I wondered at a few things while I struggled up out of my dream. What had the look from the saddened women meant? And, what was so wondrous about this chocolate that would have driven me out at night, alone, to have it? The first was a good thought and the second a bad one. I was sure that this child did not know what this craving foretold. And, that it would not be the last craving like this she would have in the coming months. Having no memory of the child before the beginning of this dream I do not know if she had yet started on her path to becoming a woman. The encounter with the mother in the store lead me to suspect that this was perhaps a different path. I feared this child was on the path to becoming a mother before she had even started fully down that of a woman. The brown eyes that reflected back at me from the glass looked like ones that still played with her dolls and had a whole imaginary house set up in her mind while playing make believe at home. I don't think she knew what path she was on or that there were even paths to begin with. I suspected that this slim and outwardly fragile seeming child was totally unprepared for this. I am thankful I have no idea how she got there.

When I woke fully, back in my body, achy and painful as it is, I missed the carefree lightness of a child. I felt a heaviness settle on my shoulders as I sat up and removed the comforter. I felt profoundly old when thinking of children like this one, who become adults all too soon. I picked up my cane from my bedside and did the only thing I could think of at 2:00 in the morning. I limped into the kitchen and made myself a glass of chocolate milk and ate half a pint of double chocolate ice cream in the dark. It helped soothe the imaginary craving but not the weight on my heart. By the light of a cracked fridge door I finished off my glass of chocolate milk and lit a clove cigarette. The crackle with each inhale made an odd counterpoint to the wisps of my dream hovering around my head. It helped me ground back to Me.  Not a healthy way to do it, granted, but it worked. Sadly it did not remove the weight upon my heart. I fear there really was a little girl in a yellow dress somewhere looking into a glass cooler door. If so, I hoped that she was able to glimpse through my eyes and draw strength from them for what is to come. May she be loved and may she know that she is loved. Always may she know love. Please Gods let her know she is loved. Always. Please.

Like rain my tears fall upon letters and my moist fingers construct wisdom from a soggy land.

In my mind fruit is born from this land and flows upon this page. The beginning is simple. The end is not.

I am a Man and today I weep.

I weep for myself and the obstacles I can not overcome. I cry from my pain and weep for my pride. I struggle with a body in pain that will not obey my mind and a mind that is clouded by this struggle and the medications that try to aid it. Yet a broken body and broken mind still can see the truth. Even while they heal I can see fear in the world. Even in my weakened state I still see this fear. Fear of me. Fear of my sex. Fear of Men.

Fear. This causes the most damage in the world. Fear of what will happen when you tell the truth leads to a lie. Fear of the unknown can lead to harsh decisions and judgments that are often made in error. As a man I see it directed towards me and it sickens me. It angers me, and it makes me cry. I can see in others eyes fear, and it is not fear of the unknown. It is not fear that I have caught them in a lie. It is not the disdain I receive from others due to my cane. Nor the pity I have seen in furtive glances at my leg braces. It is not even close to the looks I have received when hobbling quickly to catch a bus, with my hair standing up from the wind. That is a startled look with a touch of fear towards a crazy man. This is different. It is a distinct flavor of fear I have seen before. It leaves a metallic taste in my mouth and sadness in my heart. My chest tightens and my stomach cramps. They have been taught that I am going to hurt them. They have been hurt by, and now fear, men. They fear me. A simple sideways step and look at my face can give it away. Those whose eyes never fall to my cane or body. They see my face and know I am a man. Then I see fear well up behind their eyes. Most keep it hidden well. I see them steel themselves and close up. But, behind those brightly painted shutters, those false eyes, lies the truth. Fear. And, most of the time someone put it there. And, I am pissed about it.

As a man it is my place is to teach, nurture, respect, and guard.

And so, I cry for the women who fear me just because I am a man. I weep for the children who expect a kick from me. I have tears for even the other men who have the mark, the subtle tell, that they too have been abused. I cry for those who have been hurt deeply and may never be able to see past my sex. I am weary of a world where I am expected to be aggressive just because of my gender. Seeing fear in someones eyes directed at me just cuts me to my core. I shed tears for those who have been so hurt by men that I can never reach out to comfort them. I will never be able to try and help them. It will only raise their fear and cause more pain. I know that role will be filled by someone else. Yet, I somehow feel responsible for this hurt they have received. How many times in the past did I not stop something I knew was wrong? How many times when I was younger did I feed into this cycle without knowing any better? As one who grew up in a culture of violence I did not know any better. I do now. I make no excuses for my youth and work to make amends. I have learned from my past. Still, I cry for the things I have done in my youth. For the pain I caused others.

Fear creeps into the world from many places. I am not so narrow in my focus to think all of the worlds ills are due to men. Yet the "Might makes right" still seems to prevail too often from where I stand. That is true stem of this problem. The abuse I see is not only in interpersonal relations it is in government, it is in corporations, it is an attempt at control. All of it creates fear. I really do know that not all of this is due to men, and not all of it from these circumstances. Here I am I am speaking specifically about fear towards men. I have personally seen the dynamic switched, where my friends wife beat the crap out of him for years. I never knew. I found out only after his divorce years later, and only from a third party.

So, fear is still there, and a large amount of it is caused by men. As a true man I am Angry at these so called men who use violence to bolster their own sense of self. Those who control others through fear are wrong. Men who beat others, who intimidate and manipulate others, who encourage the perpetuation of this behavior are not truly men. They are children in a grown mans body playing at being a man. They do not understand responsibility, love, or respect. They fail to grasp that true control comes only from within. Self control is the only control you have. You never have control of the world around you. For them I weep just as much as I do for their victims. I cry out in frustration when I see others give up their own power to these men. I know that there are situations where it is very difficult, and may seem impossible to get out. Do not let this continue. Eventually there will be a way. Do not let them continue. By staying you teach them that it is okay, and then you believe it is okay. It is not. I weep for the system that often blames the victim for the crime and refuses to step in and help. Abuse and domestic violence should never be tolerated. Everyone should remember that you are not powerless, you have only given your power away. Take it back. Please.

As a man I am a healer, guide, leader and follower. I respect all who I encounter in my life. They rise or fall by their own actions. I speak out, I teach, I try to get others to understand. But, I tire of the ears that do not hear, and the eyes that will not see. I am a man and I persevere, struggle on, and I weep for those that can not see or hear the truth. So I ask other men, Why do you allow this to continue? Why feed into this fear? You have a responsibility. Call someone out when they act a fool. If you feel uncomfortable when they do something stupid then you know it is wrong. Stop them, teach them, and if they refuse then leave them. I will not be friends or acquaintances with people who perpetuate fear. Humiliation = Fear. Intimidation = Fear. Bullying = Fear. And, Fear = Control. Ask yourself if you would want these men around your children, Wife, Husband, Girlfriend, Boyfriend, Mother, Father, Sister, or Brother. Do you want someone trying to control you, your family, or friends through fear? Do you want them to fear men? Maybe fear you? Think about it...

Every day I think about my actions and how they will effect those around me. I am respectful and kind. And yet I struggle at times to see the true person behind the masks that we all wear. I push aside my disdain for the flashy and coiffed person whose watch costs more than my rent. I ground my resentment at the lady who is wearing jewelry that could likely pay off my student loans. They are people who make their own choices in life and are worthy of my respect even if they choose not to notice me at all. Even these who can live beyond my means carry the pain of abuse. I wish them no ill for their hard work or difference of lifestyles. I have seen marks and tells upon them as well. I have seen them on people from all walks of life. Some more than others. I work to show the world what a kind and gentle man who is still strong without violence looks like. I cry for those that are hurt simply for the lives they choose to live. The brave souls who are born into bodies ill suited for them, be it there gender, sex, physical disability, or mental disability. I weep for those who have been ill treated by life through no fault of their own, or even if by their own choices, the drug addicts, those lamed or injured through life, those malnourished and hungry, those without basic education or skills. There are tears for those who are simply seen differently and misunderstood, whether by skin color, accent, religious belief, gender, sex, orientation, by any label placed upon them. I do not try to be politically correct beyond what I can be. I do not always have the words. I am a simple man who speaks only with the words that I do have that come from my heart. I do not call out labels above to place them in boxes, rather to free them. The labels should not matter. All are people and all are sacred. Some day the world will understand this. That is my goal and hope. I work with two groups towards this goal. One I lend my energy and thoughts to an the other I am a member of. I am a founding member of The Fathers of Change and we work closely with The Mothers of the New Time. We attempt to change the world for the better through our hearts and mind. I encourage all who feel as I do to look into these movements.

My tears soak my shirt and seep into my skin. My tears, the expression of my soul, support me as I falter. They cradle me and hold me. I sit and they sooth me. Eventually they slow and the warm salty taste on my lips reminds me of the ocean and I feel refreshed . My salty shirt clings to my chest and I feel supported and uplifted. I am a man and I will cry. I will weep, and I will sob. Then I will stand back up and go out into the world and fight for the things I believe in. I have no shame from this. It gives me strength. It gives me focus. It gives me drive. I am a man, I am also a person, and a human being. I have sisters and brothers out there who need to have a safe space, who need to learn what it means to be safe, and who need to accept that they can be safe with themselves and with others. Only then will they truly be able to cry without shame. They will then learn the strength that can come from tears. 

Lessons

There are things you learn in life because you choose to. There are things you learn in life because they are taught to you by others. Then there are the things in life you learn that the universe shows you. Her teachings tend to tilt the world on its side.

I am still in pain. My medications have been doubled and they help. The effect of this is an odd wave of mental disconnect that hits about 4 hours after I take each dose. It does not last very long most of the time. Maybe half an hour to an hour on a good day. It does seem to make time stop though.

Stopping time. Stopping the entire concept of linear movement in a constructed system that separates Now from Then. Only knowing each moment as the only moment and not even being to guess that there may be some other moment that you have passed or that you may go to.  Living in the moment, in that breath, and during that heartbeat. I hate it and love it at the same time.

I can not function like this. I found myself at the store yesterday searching for a binding agent in something I wanted to bake, but I could not use eggs as I was cooking for a vegan. So I thought of some other ideas, and decided to go out and look at a local small grocer a block away. My medications hit that wave while I was there. I can honestly say that I never knew that there were so many different kinds of flour. And, like a five year old I studied them all intently, with wonder and that serious look on my face like children get when they are really thinking about something. I was enthralled by flour and I was not even there to look for it.

I was in a moment where only the flour mattered. I was only thinking about how I could use it, what would it taste like, how would it feel, what would the texture be like, how would it rise, how course would it be....and on and on. Forty-five minutes later Brian called me on my cell phone and snapped me out of my reverie. It was sad to lose that moment, and also relieving. I do not like being washed away from myself without control or consent. It does have some advantages though.

I have started trying to use those feeling and experiences during my meditations.These experiences help me still my mind. When I say "still my mind," I mean to think of nothing, I create a void or blank space and just slow my thoughts until they stop. My conscience hangs there in nothingness. Only that space exists. I can actually stop all of my thoughts, no worries, no bills, no pain, no stress......but only for a handful of seconds. I can still my mind for the space of less than a dozen heartbeats. But I enjoy it and need it to cope with the world at times.

The lesson I see here from the universe is to learn how to take those moments, the ones when I can not even think a single thing due to my medication, and incorporate them into my meditation. This is my lesson and what I choose to do with this struggle. There is another lesson I am learning. The hidden one in the background. That one that makes some people grind their teeth. Patience. Something I have never been good at. Odd is it not? It will take time to learn how to stop time.... Got to love how the universe works. She sure has a sense of humor....

Struggling with The Now

Tonight my coven gathered for a solstice celebration. I should have been there. I wanted to be there. Instead I was at home. In pain. Worried about "what might be" and angry or stressed about "what has been".

To put it briefly for those who don't know. I was in an accident with a bus last November. I was crossing the street at a stop sign when a city bus rear ended a car I was walking in front of. With no warning, no clue, my life turned upside down. Mind you, it was never really that right side up to start with. The accident snapped my left ACL and messed up my back and shoulders. I didn't realize how badly until earlier this week when I looked at my MRI. Mind you I am an LVN, not a doctor, but I have a ruptured disk and likely a damaged one below that. The S1-L5 is the most damaged and painful back injury.

This prevents me from doing almost anything around the house. Washing dishes happens in short stints. Doing laundry requires asking the Boyfriend to carry laundry down to, and from, the washing machine in the complex's garage. Taking out trash is almost not thinkable. Here is the worst part. I could do many of these things a few months ago. I thought I was getting better. I was not. I was getting worse. So here I am, unable to sleep because of pain, typing away.

Now that I have covered the catch up phase let us get to the thing I have been musing about. The Now. I want to be in the moment, and in this place. I want to be able to pay attention to what I am doing so that I can do it with intent. But, what do you do when it sucks? I find myself being bitter about the past and it tugs at my mind. I am obsessing about things that happened that I can't change and it distracts me from what is in front of me. I am being angry at people that don't matter any more and scared by the things that may happen.  I keep forgetting the things that I need to be focused on here and the people that I care about now. True sometimes I dreams of good things that may happen. But, I am almost always anywhere but now and almost always anywhere but here.

I understand it on some level. Pain does things to the way you think. My nursing training, my work experience and my personal life experience tells me this. But it is entirely different when the person in pain is you, and you have been in pain for months. Constant pain, even low levels of pain, wear you down. I think low levels of pain are worse than the high level "screaming my head off" pain because you can try to ignore it. You can be in denial. After a while your mind starts to wander to places other than the pain, to times other than when you have the pain. *shrug* It makes sense to me.

So, here is the question. What do you do when you want to be focused on the here and now, yet you are also in pain? Meditation works well for me, but tends to lead down a path to sleep. So, that is probably better for pain management. Distraction like reading a book or playing a game can help but that doesn't get much done. I need to be able to do constructive thinking, processing, and planning. I have a life to live and I can't do it if I am always somewhere else. Pain doesn't seem very considerate of my life

 When you are in pain The Now can be a very scary place. It is filled with difficulty doing small things like putting on your shoes or bending over to put your pants on. There are shameful things, like hiding your pain from your friends because it makes them uncomfortable. And, there are pride wounding things, like not being able to pick up your wallet at the store when you drop it. Don't forget all the little things like not being able to run to catch the bus if you are late, or the looks you get when you stay seated on that crowded bus and some poor old lady is struggling in front of you with a lurching crazy bus ride. I could go on and on... But, the issue is not the problems it is the result of the problems, the effect. How and why would you want to stay in any of these moments when you are fighting through a haze of pain just to be there?

Oh, I think I may have been going about this the wrong way. I am not struggling with The Now, I am struggling with the pain. By not accepting my pain and working within the scope of what it lets me do I guess I just don't get much done. Or, maybe it's better to say, I shouldn't feel badly because my pain limits the way I have to live my life. I need to learn how to live within the constraints of what I can reasonably do and not beat myself up for what is beyond my ability. It's my life, I will live it my way. If I am slower than other people then so be it. If I have to ask for help then I will. I suspect I will be much happier if I do what I can to my fullest rather than try to over reach or hold myself up to an ideal that I can not physically conform to. That just requires a lot of shifting in my way of thinking. And, until I come to terms with it, it will block my way to living in the moment, to being in The Now. This may take a while. *sigh*  Such is life. And, a new journey begins...

I could have edited out parts of this as I came to the end as to not make myself appear so silly. I only realized as I was typing this what I was truly having a problem with. I leave it whole and intact so those of you with people in your lives who struggle with constant pain may understand a little of what it may be like. It is my way of sharing what I am learning as I go down this specific road.

Gatekeeper