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This blog entry covers negative personal issues; so this is a little trigger warning. Due to its nature, though I love comments, I ask that you please be respectful. Thank you.


This week (this year?) has been a heavy one. I’m reinventing myself, healing from a past, learning new things, stretching my boundaries and dealing with my insecurities.

I’m embracing my metaphors more than ever.

I am the enchantress

I have a lighthouse.

I am alight & a Light.

I have the power to illuminate, emblazon, and support.

And I am a re-definer; a re-designer. I re-frame and re-connotate. i really need a new name for this.

Redefinition is my gift and my power.

Redefining Labels

In 2005, I was an abuse victim: a vulnerable, suspicious being; alone and unsafe. Although I knew love, it was overshadowed by fear; the attention given and care taken with me was to cover up the evidence.

In 2006, I hit bottom. I’d tried to become social; and had another abusive experience before college began. I became reclusive and didn’t deal with it healthily. I wonder now if it’s possible to deal healthily with something like that.

I dropped those people, enveloped myself in my negative-patterns and eventually hit bottom in a hospital bed on Boxing Day.  And from that point, began to shape my future.

In the last couple of years, I’ve dropped (some of) my labels and gifted myself with new wings. I became a business woman; a scientific psychologist with a love for quantum physics, who is also a nature-loving druid; a novelist and a certified level II Reiki practitioner.

In the last year I’ve got my first job, volunteered with learning disabled adults, joined a youth panel, begun a business, taught meditation and am about to finish an undergraduate degree.

In the next year, I’ll become a Master of Science in Neuroscience; of all the subjects. (scary, much?).

The Metaphor

This week I gave in my dissertation and began revising for exams; a student. At Beltain, I was a druid, as I am most mornings as I light my altar’s incense. In a weeks’ time, I’ll be a Shivanata teacher and from September, a Neuroscientist.

This is me, pushing my boundaries. This is my gift; my power: re-definition and re-design.

I am the actress; putting on her characters outfit [or my suitable-for-work uniform]. I am the enchantress; meeting each day with my medicine pouch of gemstones and the jewellery that defines my style.

Some things, though, are constant.

I still define my life by the wolven values I discovered/invented as a child; still governing my life by how much like a wolf I can be; defiant and graceful in the face of challenge (See the Philosopher and the Wolf by Mark Rowlands, or The Sight by David Clement-Davies).

This is how evolution works and why this year i keep signing up for things I can’t do. And each time the day arrives to carry out my word; I do it. I can. I make myself into someone who can.

No matter how many times I mumble “I can’t do this, I’m not ready, It’s going to go wrong. I can’t”… I do. I CAN.
Re-invention is a gift we can all access.

The Wolf

Today, I am the dancer and I am the dance. I whirl without motion; fighting the ape inside in order to let the inner wolf arise.

“The art of the wolf is grounded in its strength.

When Brenin was around two months old, I took him to rugby practice, as usual. This was during the time that he had taken to tormenting Rugger and Rugger didn’t like him at all. Eventually, Rugger lost his temper, grabbed Brenin by the neck and pinned him to the ground. To his great credit, that’s all Rugger did. He could easily have snapped Brenin’s little neck like a twig. Even a pit bull can pass Kundera’s test. But it is Brenin’s reaction that will always stay with me. Most puppies would have screeched out in shock and fear. Brenin growled. This was not the growl of a puppy, but a deep and calm and sonorous growl that belied his tender age. That is strength. And that is what I’ve always tried to carry around with me, and I hope I always will. As an ape, I will fall short of this; but I have an obligation, a moral obligation, never to forget it and to emulate it as far as I can. If I can only be as strong as a two month old wolf cub, then I am a soil where moral evil will not grow.

An ape would have scurried away to darkly plot his revenge; to work out ways of manufacturing weakness in those who are stronger than him and who have humiliated him. And when that work is complete, then evil can be done. I am an ape through accident of birth. But in my best moments I am a wolf cub snarling out my defiance to a pit bull that has me smashed into the ground. My growl is a recognition that pain is coming, for pain is the nature of life. It is the recognition that I am nothing more than a cub and, at any time, the pit bull of life can snap my neck like a twig. But it is also the will that I won’t back down, no matter what.”

– Mark Rowlands, the Philosopher and the Wolf.

In light,