by Starhawk
When you are ready, turn back to the Crone. Thank her for her gifts, and know what it is you can offer to her. Then say good-bye. Look once more at your boundary, and see how it has changed. Take up your gifts, and return to the center of your place of power. Take whatever time you need there, and then return to your ordinary consciousness. Stretch all over, say your name three times, have a bite to eat, and make some notes in your Book of Shadows. If you are working with friends, take some time to discuss what you’ve experienced and how it may affect your boundaries in the outer world. Only when you are ready, open the circle.
Like Rose, we are now anchored in our core worth. We know we can reach out in love, and we know we can protect ourselves from attack. Neither good nor ill winds will deflect us. Rose holds to her weaving, her sewing, and her silence whether she is loved or hated. She is a woman who knows her own name and the meaning of her life. And now the story builds to a final dramatic moment, sweeping us along with it.
The Outer Path
Rose has taken on a great task and has developed the courage, fortitude, and persistence with which to meet it. Now her work and her silence have made her an enigma. Clearly she is a person of power: both her lover and her enemies recognize that. But her silence allows each of them to project upon her their image of a powerful woman. To the king, she becomes an object of love. Perhaps he sees in her the silence and mystery of the earth herself. But to the mother-in-law (and, in some versions of the story, the archbishop), she becomes a threat. She is a rival for love and status. And she is also a woman of power in a world where women’s power is feared.
Power is problematic for women. For men, increased power usually means increased attractiveness. For women, the opposite is often true. We are raised to fear that if we are too powerful, too smart, too successful, we won’t be loved. Heterosexual women fear that men won’t find us attractive, but even lesbians and queer women are not immune to the pressures of the culture. The wicked Witch, the evil stepmother, the overpowering mother, the bitchy boss—negative images of female power surround us.
Even for men, holding public power has become more difficult. Political campaigns are vicious. Celebrities are both adored and reviled. Power itself has become suspect—and rightfully so, as more and more of it is concentrated in fewer hands. But those who stand forth and hold power publicly and accountably must face all of our positive and negative projections, while the most dangerous power brokers operate anonymously behind closed doors.
To walk the Outer Path with integrity and effectiveness, we must be able to withstand other people’s projections. We must be able to trust our power from within, be conscious of how we wield our influence, and be clear and accountable when we are entrusted with power-over.
To withstand projections, we must be aware of our own. To survive the jealousy of others, we must acknowledge our own envy. To find the partners, companions, and lovers who will cherish our true selves, we must know who we are beneath other people’s assumptions of either our virtue or our malevolence.
As social beings, we are shaped by our reflections in other people’s eyes. As infants, our sense of self is formed by how lovingly we are mirrored by our caretakers. As we grow and develop, our confidence and self-esteem are dependent on how others see us. How hard it is to feel like a competent adult at the family dinner when Daddy still sees us as a charming, helpless child!
One of the great gifts we can give is to strive to see each other fully and wholly. The following exercise is one I’ve adapted from a meditation taught by author and activist Joanna Macy.
Mirror
In sacred space, find a partner. Sit or stand opposite each other, in a position where you can comfortably hold hands. Take your partner’s hands, and match your breathing.
Look into your partner’s eyes, and allow yourself to see the child that is there. Keep breathing, and notice also how it feels to have your own child seen. Then close your eyes, and come back to yourself.
Open your eyes again, and allow yourself to see your partner’s vulnerability and wounds. How does it feel to have your own vulnerability seen? Then close your eyes, and come back to yourself.
Now open your eyes, and allow yourself to see your partner’s strength and power from within. How does it feel to be seen in your own true strength? Then close your eyes, and come back to yourself.
Open your eyes again, and see your partner as the Goddess, as the God, as deity becoming manifest right before your eyes. How does it feel to be seen that way? Then close your eyes, and come back to yourself.
Now use your anchor, and call yourself into your core state of worth. What shifts or changes? Open your eyes, and from your anchored state allow yourself to see your partner and be seen.
This exercise is one I often use to precede an energy-sensing exercise or to teach aura reading. If you use it in that context, go on directly to energy work without breaking the flow by talk. Otherwise, thank your partner, relax, and discuss what you experienced.
To acknowledge our own projections, we need to distinguish between observing, judging, assuming, and responding emotionally to someone. Part of our magical training is to learn not only what state of being we’re in, but also what mode of awareness we’re using. I first learned a variation of this exercise from Patricia Storm, of Diana’s Grove. Patricia is a psychologist and a practical priestess, equally at home with a magic wand or a chain saw. She and her partner, Cynthia, studied in Jean Huston’s Mystery School, where the original version of this exercise was taught. Later, Cynthia’s daughter Kitty and I developed it further to make it conform more closely to the elements.
Five Modes of Awareness
In sacred space, find a partner. Sit comfortably opposite each other. Begin by taking hands and matching breath, though you may drop hands as the work goes on, since this exercise takes at least forty-five minutes to complete.
Begin with the element of earth, with physical awareness. Look at your partner and take turns describing what you see. As much as possible, limit your description to physical details; do not include knowledge or judgments. Although this sounds simple, it is actually extremely difficult, because as soon as we use words, we are entering the realm of judgment. “I see a face with many fine creases radiating from the eyes” is close to a purely physical description. “I see the face of an older woman” brings us into the realm of judgment.
As an alternative, let go of words altogether and make a drawing of your partner. To really draw somebody, we must see them clearly. The more we look, the more there is to see. I’ve spent an entire weekend painting two plums and an apple and only skimmed the richness of their physical form and color. But if the people you’re working with are unfamiliar with art materials or in conflict about their abilities, drawing may raise issues that are a distraction from the focus of this exercise.
Next move to the element of air—to knowledge, insight, and judgment. What do you know about your partner from what you observe? Air brings in categories: woman, middle-aged, well-dressed. And categories can lead to assumptions: “Her hair is gray and she doesn’t dye it, so I assume she is comfortable with her age and not trying to appear younger.” Again, describe what you see.
Now move on to fire. What is the quality of energy you perceive in your partner? How does that energy flow? Where is it stuck? Use your hands to sense your partner’s aura, if that helps you. Again, describe what you perceive.
Now move to water. What do you feel about your partner? What emotional state do you sense your partner is in? Again, describe what you perceive.
Now sit back for a moment. Tell yourself a story about your partner. If she or he were a character in a fairy tale or myth, who would they be? Share your stories with each other.
Ground, and anchor yourself into your core worth. Now move to the fifth element, spirit or center. How do you perceive your partner’s spirit or essence? Again, describe what you see.
Then take time to discuss your experience with your partners an
d in the group.
Often we assume that our basic mode of awareness is physical perception. After all, we go around in the world mostly without bumping into lampposts or falling into ditches, able to navigate city streets and pick out groceries in the supermarket. But as we refine our awareness of perception, we may discover that we spend very little time in physical reality, that we walk through our lives surrounded by a fog of judgments and emotions that obscure much of what is around us.
I Notice/I Imagine
Katrina suggests a short, simple exercise she learned from anti-oppression trainers to help us distinguish between observation and judgment.
In a group, sit in a circle. One person begins and says to the person on their right, “I notice _____ about you, and I imagine _____.”
Continue around the circle clockwise. The group is free to comment on the observations to help keep a clear distinction between the observations and the judgments that arise.
“I notice that you are wearing a red shirt, and I imagine that you support the Chicago Bears.”
“I notice that you look tired, and I imagine you’re working too hard.”
“Wait a minute, ‘tired’ is a judgment.”
“I notice dark circles under your eyes, and I imagine that you are tired.”
Naturalists and trackers, detectives like Sherlock Holmes, and great artists are simply people who have learned to sharpen their physical perceptions. For us vague, absentminded, intuitive types, training in physical perception is an important counterbalance to all the work we do with internal imagery. I was an art student in college, and while my drawings and paintings showed less than stellar talent, the training taught me to see. I’ve also sought out programs such as those offered by the Wilderness Awareness School that teach observation of nature. Practice is key to sharpening our physical perception, just as it is a vital part of all magical training. Following is my daily meditation.
A Walk in the Physical World
Take a walk in nature, practicing wide attention. Stay in the physical world, observing as much as you can of what is around you. Notice when your own thoughts and internal dialogue take over your mind, and gently let them go.
If to be a leader or public figure in this society is to invite projections, then to stand forth and deliberately call yourself a Witch, a Pagan, or even a teacher of spirituality is like popping up on a shooting range wearing a target. The words, the role, and the personal power we may carry in our being evoke both positive and negative projections.
There are two basic tools that can help us fend off the arrows that may fly our way: shielding and anchoring.
To shield magically means to create an image that embodies a protective energy form. A shield may function like a knight’s shield of steel and deflect weapons, or it can function more like the shields of the spaceships on Star Trek and absorb the energy of the attacks that come your way. Each has its advantages and dangers. Negative energies deflected are still bounding around the universe and may cause damage, just as ricocheting bullets do. But absorbing negative energies can be dangerous to your health unless you are skilled enough magically and secure enough personally to transform them. A shield may also function like a filter, a mirror, or camouflage.
“I visualize a solid oak barrier that comes up to about my chin,” Melusine says. In her political career, she has had to learn many lessons about self-protection. “When my shield comes up, it makes the sound of a van door sliding shut. I can still talk over it, but nothing anyone says can get to me; it just bounces.” Her image is visual and tactile and incorporates sound. The more senses we include in a visualization, the more effective it will be.
Pomegranate describes her shield as a priestess cloak: “In some contexts, it’s a very thin, light cloak. With other people, I have a very thick cloak. It’s important not to take too much personally when you are working as a priestess; it can be very ungrounding. I let the cloak take it. I spend a lot of time each week talking to people. One day I talked to two different people in my role as priestess. The first told me I had saved her life. Within a few hours I was consulting with a person who felt I was failing her. Because I was wearing my priestess robe, I was able to remember that both people were talking to the priestess archetype. The robe holds the big energies that are necessary for people to do their magical work and reflects the power that people bring to the work. Meanwhile, inside the robe, the human-sized me can stay grounded and focused on each person’s situation and avoid getting pulled into their energy. In addition, I can take human-scale responsibility for people’s progress.”
Before doing the following working, do the “Crone’s Three Gifts” trance, described in the Inner Path for this chapter.
Creating a Shield
In sacred space or at your altar, consider the situations in which you need protection. Invoke your particular allies, the Goddesses, Gods, or ancestors with whom you feel a special bond.
What tools did you receive from the Old Woman with which to defend your boundaries? Are any of them useful to you in this situation? What image of protection might you use? Do you want your shield to deflect or to absorb and transform energy? How will you let in energies that you do want and information that you need?
What protective image comes to you? Spend some time with it; get to know it. Create an anchor to it, one that you can draw up quickly and automatically.
Be aware that a shield takes energy to maintain. What source of energy will you use to maintain your shield?
Thank your allies, and devoke the circle.
Shielding Practice
With a partner, ground, breathe together, and take some time to explore each other’s auras. When you have a sense of your partner’s base state of energy, ask her to draw up her shield. Sense her aura again, and notice whether you can feel the change. Switch roles, and then discuss what you have observed. Practice together until each of you can call up a shield that can be clearly sensed by the other.
Shields do take energy to maintain, and they do in some sense keep us subtly removed from contact with others. They are necessary and vital in situations of attack. But when we are teaching, priestessing, or counseling, we need a different sort of protection, one that lets us remain wide open to energies and information but still able to separate what is truly ours from what is not. Rather than shielded, we need to be solidly anchored in our core worth and protected both by our allies and by the quality of energy we are running.
Perhaps by now you are weary of being told to anchor to your core worth. Nevertheless, if you haven’t been regularly practicing with your anchor, make it a daily practice now. Your anchor is literally your lifeline and your link to sanity. I use mine constantly, whenever I need to stay clear and grounded in the face of intense energies, whether they are coming from a disagreement with my partner, an audience of five hundred people waiting to hear me speak, or a riot cop beating up the person next to me.
Anchoring Practice
Donate is one of our German Reclaiming teachers. A university professor in religious studies, certified body therapist, mother of two adult daughters, and ritual woman, she developed the following exercise to help us practice anchoring through intensity.
In sacred space, find a partner. Begin by sensing each other’s auras first in ordinary, relaxed consciousness and then when anchored to your core state of being. Become familiar with each other’s energies.
Now one partner becomes the receiver, and the other becomes the projector. Take a moment and discuss the type of stressful situations the receiver might encounter in her or his life. Then the receiver sits and anchors to her core state of being. The projector role-plays an attacker, sending out negative energy, jealousy—whatever the receiver might be facing. The receiver’s task is simply to stay anchored and respond from the core state of being.
Reverse roles, and repeat the exercise. You might try it several times, with different sorts of energies and projections, positive as well as negative. Which are easie
r to resist? Which tend to knock you off your anchor?
How did it feel to stay anchored? How did it feel to be the attacker?
When you are done, be sure to shake out your hands, and do a brushdown on each other. Call back your anchors, and recheck each other to make sure you are back in your core state of being. If you feel it’s needed, you might want to offer each other healing or positive energy as a counterbalance.
This exercise, with slight variation, can be used in nonviolence trainings for direct action. The attackers might role-play police, outraged workers blocked from their jobs, loggers prevented from cutting trees—whatever is appropriate to the situation.
Tunnel of Torture
Melusine and Pomegranate, who among their other sterling characteristics are two of the funniest human beings on the planet, came up with the following exercise together.
The group forms two lines, in the form of a gauntlet. The receiver walks slowly between them, holding her anchor to her core state of being. For the first half of the gauntlet, group members hurl attacks and abuse. For the second half, they lavish praise and adoration. Her challenge is to stay anchored and centered through both.
End with discussion, brushdowns, and whatever cleansing is necessary.
Constructive Critique
“There’s a difference,” Melusine says, “between a voter who thinks you’ve done wrong and is screaming at you, and a personal political attack. I have to listen to the voter because there may be a grain of truth in what he’s saying.”
For power to be accountable, leaders must be willing to hear criticism. As leaders, teachers, and priestesses, it is our responsibility to both give and receive constructive feedback.
As an artist, Donald is familiar with the need to give and receive constructive criticism.
“A true critique is a gift,” Donald says. “It’s a mark of your respect for the other person as an artist, to take the time and trouble to constructively criticize their work.”
