The Space My Story Takes Up

As soon as I finished my business, The Way of the River, I thought, “One day I’ll blog again.” And since then–Yuletide 2021-2022–I have blown gently on the tiny coal of hope I had in my hands, feeding it little sticks of hope and encouragement. This past Monday, I decided to take a week off from my work of religious leadership, and lo and behold, I could write again.

I am giving myself the space my story takes up.

That expression, “the space my story takes up,” came to me with the Stone Circle Wicca (USA) Imbolc ceremony on the full moon of February. I spoke to Brigid in Her guise as the poet, and I claimed her powers of inspiration to tell the truth of my body, my heart, and my spirit. I also said I would tell a true story, even if it were horrifying.

I am coming to believe that my story is not only the horrifying one. I have told and been told that one many times. The story marked by difficulty, barriers, illness, madness, oppression and the pains of being fat, is a true story. But it’s only one. There is another. The other one is like an X-Men story (inasmuch as I understand these things). Or like Spiderman? You can probably tell I’m uncomfortable with these metaphors, but we charge ahead.

The overculture and its many mouths have told me again and again that I am a mutant. An abomination, due to my unnatural and abnormal ways of being and doing. The mouths haven’t said the other part, though: I am also a superhero. I am not uniquely possessed of superheroic powers, of course. I bet you have them too, though we may not know what our powers are yet.

So come with me? Join me on this exploration of Taking Up Space. I’ll write about seasons, spirituality, madness, sexuality, fat, and queer life, as I always have. AND I intend to dig into the deep truths about all these things in ways that reveal their gems. Like walking into Tolkien’s Glittering Caves, let us go then, you and I…