A Long way from Love

It's coming up on four years since the work I did at the post-election circle, trying to offer healing into a divided world. I'm frightened now, more than ever. It feels like we're a long way from a world of love.

In my own little section of the world, things are great. My vassal and I are closer than ever; our love fills me with awe. Its power is humbling. While the goddess is not as obviously present as at the beginning, our inner divinity is strong, and the goddess and lord are there inside us.

I have a job, we are healthy, and we do not have financial worries. In this time of pandemic, that is a cornucopia of good fortune.

Yet I find I have no emotional energy. I run through the day: a creative project in the morning, work, spending time with my lover, cooking and reading. And so long as that's all there is, I'm fine. But I don't have the energy to stay in contact with people outside of work. I don't have the energy to read social media and interact (nor am I convinced I'd find that healthy). Every time I make the mistake of reading news, I am less happy. And so, I am a lover, alone with my beloved, isolated from tribe and community.

And I worry about the future. If this isolation is just a phase, we'll get through it and be stronger. But what if it is more complicated than that? What if we become more afraid of disease—more afraid to touch, hug, and be close to each other? What if social distance becomes a virtue? How long until that physical distance turns into emotional distance? How can I create a temple of love, a space for the lover and beloved to circle each other, against that? How can we fight the shouting and begin to listen to each other against the backdrop of distance and a fear for our lives piled on top of the fears and shame that already drive us apart?

And then there is the world. Rage swells and it will not be denied. Black lives mattered four years ago, and they matter now, and yet we still cannot make that simple statement a reality. We’re finding some constructive pockets in all this rage. And to some extent it is work like the Enemy of Love Work. Perhaps through these protests we can work to cast out those things that hold us apart, that oppress, that hold us away from love.

And I hope that’s true, because beyond my own little bubble, the world looks grim. For beyond the rage and the protests (or perhaps beside them—it’s all related) is the economy, and the scramble to turn this pandemic to advantage for some regardless of the cost for everyone else. It’s easy to see a dark pit lurking below, and right now, I feel powerless to do anything about it.