There is at least once in our lives a time when we come to a crossroad, a defining moment to change ourselves and our future. Diana has reached that moment. A moment of true conflict. If she stays in her loveless marriage, her envy and jealousy will destroy her relationships with The Circle. If she leaves, she faces a crisis in her own life of another kind. She has lived virtually all of her forty years as a reflection of what someone else wants her to be. Who is she? The real Diana? Finding the answers to that question starts with admitting the truth about her life now.
Kinslow, Ireland
Winter Solstice
Diana Pettybone sank onto the wide stone window sill at The Manor, the castle-like home of her friend and circle sister, Elizabeth. Outside the winter sun shone brightly, its rays streaming in the mullioned glass. It was a beautiful day for a wedding, but a disastrous day for her marriage.
Her tears drenched the silk robe pulled tight. She shook with silent sobs, her broken breathing the only sound. Shivering, she shifted, set her feet on the sill, her arms clutched her knees as she rocked slowly like a winding down pendulum, lost in a world of darkness. The clock on the mantle chimed the hour, the sun’s rays flashed through the window like shafts of lightning.
Her rocking eased, her tears slowed. Diana leaned her forehead against the glass, her gaze unseeing. She was hollow inside but not empty. The echoes of her envious, jealous, covetous thoughts feeding the self-loathing oozed into every cell as she searching for answers.
There were none.
Or perhaps she was blind.
Emotional exhaustion did that; immobilized the brain. Hers seemed unable to quit its painful thoughts, unable to give her any peace.
She hated the words that flashed through her mind, the envy that ate at her heart, the jealousy that sucked up her energy, the covetousness that stabbed at her soul. What else could she do other than what she’d been doing?
Every alternative had its own pain.
She rubbed her forehead against the cool glass, trying to ease the pounding in her head, to wipe the jealousy from her mind.
It did not work.
Instead she found shivers of emotion striking like lightning; the hated words an endless tape in her mind.
The clock on the mantle chimed the half hour. Diana sat on the stone sill, in this small sitting room in her friend’s home, her head bowed in futile repentance. A knock on the door, a voice calling to her; in her misery she did not answer. How can I face the woman on the other side of the door?
The clock on the mantle chimed the hour. Too exhausted to cry or rock, Diana stilled, leaned back against the window’s casing, prepared to face her personal nightmare; she’d be left with nothing if she didn’t find a way out of this morass. I’ll lose my best friends, my sacred women’s circle, if I don’t find the way out of my loveless, toxic marriage.
The idea of leaving had been on her mind a dozen maybe even a hundred times—but she stayed.
It was her choice, therefore her fault she remained with Dennis. A dark, humorless chuckle escaped as she reviewed the remnants of her reasoning.
No one in my family ever divorced. What a scandal that would be, especially when my parents had warned Dennis was not worthy of me. How ironic since I was and still am the daughter who never did anything right. And Bill? He needed - still needs a father, doesn’t he? Lastly I was raised in the Catholic Church and taught divorce was not an option.
Diana sat, her arms now wrapped around her knees, her eyes gritty from tears. Although bathed in the rays of the sun, her desolation wrapped her in darkness. Her head thundered, sparks of a sharper pain skittered across her scalp. Bands of steel in her shoulders and neck spasms added their unrelenting hold to her suffering.
She rolled her neck and shoulders, willing the stiffness away. I have to find a way, a way past this all-encompassing despair, this resentment so strong it’s only a matter of time before it consumes me and everything, everyone I love is lost.
It wasn’t just her circle sister Elizabeth’s wedding this morning that sparked her misery. Lily, the first in The Circle to marry, and her husband Jackson were celebrating their six-month anniversary today. Even after six months, their joy easily matched that of the newly-weds, Elizabeth and Michael. Since her arrival ten days ago and especially since Dennis’s three days ago, she’d had no relief. No relief from seeing their joy, no place to evade their happiness. Day in and day out she’d been faced with the reality of her marriage: empty, loveless, painful and more than that, toxic.
Once again she asked the questions that seemed to have no answer.
“What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I have a loving marriage?”
Diana slowed her breathing and consciously challenged her physical and emotional exhaustion. I want to move past this debilitating pain and incapacitating fear. She breathed deeply, a cleansing breath, breathed a second and yet a third time. If I want my life different, I must act and act now while I have this window of time to think, to choose, to plan. Her heart raced.
Anticipation? Dread? She didn’t know.
Slipping off the sill, she braced her arms on the stone ledge and waited for her legs to stiffen. Her attention focused on the small sitting room that had become her sanctuary, her haven. Restless, she paced around the room, blew out a guttering candle, and watched the thin spiral of smoke from the wick as it disappeared into the air leaving behind a trace of bayberry. Calmer now, she turned, taking in the details of the room. Her gaze paused on her Winter Solstice altar, on a stack of three books she was reading, and on the low table in front of the fireplace where her women’s circle’s Solstice gift lay: a starter set of Tarot cards.
Diana crossed the room to the chair by the fireplace, lifted the multi-hued green wool throw off the back and wrapped herself in its warmth in an effort to chase away the bone-deep cold, a residue from her storming emotions. Easing down to sit cross-legged on the rug in front of the hearth, she took the poker from the rack and stirred the embers. Bit-by-bit she added small pieces of kindling, blowing softly on the glowing light until the fire came back to life. Between the wool and the blaze the marrow of her bones warmed. She stared into the flames, blanking her mind in a short reprieve.
I have this small window of time to sort things out. Once home in Fremont my daily life, responsibilities, expectations, and Dennis will impinge upon my time.
It was dramatic to think now or never but those words rang clear, like a bell ringing in a pristine-dark night one can hear for long moments after it stops.
What do I want?
A loving, respectful marriage, a husband who is faithful to me, the passion Lily and Elizabeth have in their marriages, someone to look at me as if I am his world. I know what I want. So, what must change for me to have a loving, respectful, safe relationship in my life?
That was her question. Simple. Clearly stated.
The answer obvious.
Her husband, Dennis, was the main stumbling block to having the marriage she wanted. Yes, there were other issues: she just turned forty and finding someone else was daunting in and of itself; there were Bill and her parents; there was her Catholic upbringing. But in the end, being married to Dennis was the biggest obstacle.
Diana sat and watched the flames dance, their red, orange, and blue colors melding, flowing together.
One truth: Bill is gone. A sophomore in college he was building a life on the East Coast and it was time to let him go.
A second truth: I’m no longer Catholic. Over eight years ago she’d joined this women’s circle. Together they had crafted a spirituality with a foundation built on the “old ways” of earth-based religions. Their ceremonies brought peace and joy to her heart. Lily, a member of her women’s circle and one of her closest friends, saw today as the beginning of a new year. As a rule in pagan traditions, it was Samhain. I haven’t really thought about it, even after all this time, but maybe Winter Solstice is a new beginning for me, too.
A third truth: My parents, even now in their seventies, will surely criticize me if I leave Dennis whether by separation or divorce. But it would be nothing new. When have they ever praised me, been please with me, approved? I can’t remember a time. Her posture slumped. Their disapproval is still painful. Determination straightened her spine. While their disapproval is still painful, Dennis’s on-going infidelities are intolerable.
 |
| The Deck I Used |
Diana stood and looked around the room seeing the light from the sun make mullioned window patterns on the dark carpet, seeing the flickering from the fire dance on the walls, seeing The Tarot cards beckon to her.
In her circle, Hunter, Sophia, and Gabriella used The Tarot cards regularly and even Lily, Elizabeth, and Ashley used other kinds of divination cards. She participated in group readings but had never attempted her own reading. Until this gift she’d not even owned a deck. As a beginner, she appreciated the meanings were printed on each card to help a novice discern more easily what the cards were saying.
I know the basics: have a question in mind and concentrate on it as I shuffle the deck, and lay out the cards. What would it hurt? It would be doing something different. Actually for me it would be doing something very different. She smiled as tingles of excitement skittered across her skin.
Diana padded to the table and sat facing the fire. The cards like a siren, called her to take a chance, to dash herself on the rocks in order to break free, to find a new way forward. She reached behind her for a pillow off the couch and tucked it under her. Her fingers slipped around the box drawing it closer. As she opened it and took out the deck, wisps of anticipation snaked up her spine.
I have to have a question. Her brow furrowed in thought. The feelings of anticipation evaporated; hopelessness slithered in. This is so dumb. What am I doing? She started to put the cards back in the box.
A knock on the door.
Dennis’s voice snarled, “I know you’re in there, Diana. What the hell are you doing?”
The door knob rattled as he tried to push his way in. She sat in silence unwilling to acknowledge him. Her heart pounded, her hands dampened, her breath locked in her lungs.
“You’ll pay for this little escapade! Oh, hi there, Montgomery.”
Diana marveled at how quickly Dennis could flip the switch and change. His bonhomie was evident in his tone as he engaged Jackson. She heard Jackson’s deep voice but he was too far away from the door to make out his words.
“Just checking on Diana. Nothing to worry about, I can assure you.”
She listened as Dennis’s now jovial voice dimmed, signaling he was moving away. Her heart slowed, she wiped her hands on the throw, her lungs gasped for air.
Her hands shook as she put the cards back on the table and took a deep breath.
I want my life to be different, to have a man who loves me, respects me, and is faithful. Show me the way.
Her hands grappled with shuffling the new deck of cards. Show me the way.
Her hands grasped the cards more confidently as she shuffled them a second time. Show me the way.
Her hands easily shuffled them a third time as she chanted under her breath, “Show me the way.”
Judith is the author of The Sacred Women’s Circle series,
romantic fiction that honors spiritual practices that nourish the soul and
celebrates the journey from relationship to romance.
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© Excerpt from Diana 2014 - Judith Ashley
If
you follow any sport you’ll see the athlete, before they take that shot, throw
that picture, swing that bat, shoot down the ski slope or take to the ice, go
within where they “see” or imagine themselves perfectly performing. In their
imaginations they never fall, miss a shot or fail.
To
master the quality of self-discipline, we practice being successful. We see
ourselves engaged in the activity whether it is on the tennis court or leading
a seminar. We visualize ourselves on the clay or grass court, on the stage at
the podium. We mentally practice our backhand, our serve, we see ourselves
engaged with the audience, our voice and gestures adding to the content of our
presentation. We may even sit in the stands and visualize ourselves on the
court, making every serve, returning every shot. We may stand on the stage,
behind the podium while mentally running through what we want to say.
