My Difficulty In This Realm

Feeling very much at a loss for words right now. Got The Moon when I drew a Tarot card last night. In Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom Rachel Pollack talks about how there are no humans on this card, only animals. I feel as nonverbal as the dog and the wolf. If I were less self-conscious, or perhaps more rural, I would howl at the moon tonight. That would feel appropriate. The Moon has been omnipresent for me for several months now, and is certainly the ruling planet of this website, as it symbolizes the unconscious. Pollack writes of the image on the card, 

"The road leads through two towers, suggesting a gateway into unknown areas. The gateway is a very common symbol among mystics and shamans, seen also in many myths. Sometimes a circular pattern, like a mandala, or some physical formation, like a cave (very often compared to the vagina), the gateway allows us to leave the ordinary world to enter the strangeness of the mind" (2007, p. 128).

I feel myself on the other side of the gateway these days, looking at life as an outsider, but from the inside of myself. It can feel a bit disorienting and I am nearly ready for a return to the simpler pleasures of The Sun, but drawing this card makes me think my stay in this eerie realm has been extended. According to Pollack, "The Moon... will not be denied, and the fears can get stronger the more we fight it. The psyche, operating under its own laws for its own reasons, has turned to the Moon. If we allow ourselves to experience it the fears will turn to wonders and the gateways open to adventure" (p. 129). 

I have spent the last couple days engaged in performing a ritual in honor of the dream I described in the post "Recovering Fragments of the Feminine" so it makes sense that the moon, symbol of feminine consciousness, would be my guide. I'll go into more detail about the ritual in my next post, including photos of the process. While doing the ritual, I've struggled with many feelings that seem impossible to name or describe. I long for some kind of integration. Actually, I long for a reasonable explanation, for my sense-making mechanism to spring into action. I want to make sense of it all. Yes, it is hard for me to stop making sense. 

I once took a little mind trip, never mind the means by which I did so, and encountered three colorful goddesses. I wrote a poem about the experience that exemplifies my difficulty in this realm. 

"I want answers!" I yelled. 

"That's no way to start a conversation," they said, 

Neon yellow, orange, red. 

I'm a serious fool, no fun in the head. 

Ask and you shall receive;

Demand and they shall recede. 

Don't think you know what you need. 

Don't think you know. 

Don't think!

Impossible. 

And it's over in a blink.