Lorie and I keep having the same discussion lately. She comes to me with a gravely concerned look on her face. Resisting despair but unable to help herself, she exclaims, “I feel like everything I’ve stood for my entire life – the sacredness of the Earth, the creative potential of people, the possibility for real […]
One of my dearest friends is dying of cancer. Richard was diagnosed just shy of a year ago, and each visit now that I get to share with him feels especially poignant. As he dies, he is teaching me about death, about how not to be afraid of it, about how to face it and talk about it openly, and about how a person can die with dignity and graceful acceptance.
Liminal – from the Latin word limens, which literally means, “threshold.”
A recent weekend of teaching has caused me to reflect on liminal space and it’s connection to healing as the arising of new possibilities in our lives, and about how, as a man/survivor of sexual abuse/recovered addict, I’ve historically resisted, run from, and been afraid of this space.
I had my first astrology reading when I was 28 years old. Sitting beside me, my astrologer Steven Forrest looked me in the eye and broke the news to me that I was going to be a late bloomer. With my natal Sun in Aquarius in the 11th House, the House of Future Plans and Goals, he counseled me to be patient with the process of discovering my life’s purpose. He told me, in fact, that the age of 54 would be significant. I understand now he was looking at the time when my Progressed Sun in Aries would cross my Ascendant. Age 54 seemed then like a very long time to wait for my life to begin.