June 22, 2013 by Angel Pricer
As a child, I preferred the company of the elders in my community over kids my age. Across the gravel alley behind our tiny apartment there was Martha, a childless white haired spinster and her round orange kitty, Pumpkin. Adjacent to her was Gladys, a widow with an impressive array of Four O’Clock flowers whose seeds I never tired of collecting, and Inga, a gentle German Shepard who taught me how to administer a proper belly rub. Then there were the Adams’, the cutest darn couple on the block, and their floppy eared Irish Setter, Lady, who always let them know I was coming.
There were kids around the neighborhood too, and I rode bike with them, went on adventures, had sleepovers, all the ‘normal’ kid stuff. It’s just that I preferred sipping sun tea with Martha, digging in the dirt with Gladys, and witnessing true, enduring love on the porch with Mr. and Mrs. Adams.
Kids my age often called me weird, but my elder friends said I was ‘wise beyond my years’. I took comfort in our unspoken understanding and treasured the sense of belonging I felt with them.
Weird or wise, I come by it honestly. Just ask my mother. She’s tried to be normal her whole life, and it’s damn near killed her. More than once. Because of her struggles, I slowly realized that surrender works better for me. Besides, I like being weird, at least in this sense:
The old word for having a foot in each world is weird. The original sense of weird involved both fate and destiny. Becoming weird enough to be wise requires that a person learn to accommodate the strange way they are shaped within and aimed at the world. ~excerpt from Michael Meade’s book Fate and Destiny: The Two Agreements of the Soul
If you’ve been fighting the loosing battle of weirdness, take heart and read this post, where I found the above quote and more weird goodies!
An excerpt from Michael Meade’s book Fate and Destiny: The Two Agreements of the Soul, which a friend synchronistically shared with me recently, summarizes quite well the varied influences at this monthly time of illumination:
In old traditions those who acted as elders were considered to have one foot in daily life and the other foot in the otherworld. Elders acted as a bridge between the visible world and the unseen realms of spirit and soul. A person in touch with the otherworld stands out because something normally invisible can be seen through them. The old word for having a foot in each world is weird. The original sense of weird involved both fate and destiny. Becoming weird enough to be wise requires that a person learn to accommodate the strange way they are shaped within and aimed at the world.
Those who would become truly wise must become weird enough to be in touch with timeless things and abnormal enough to follow the guidance of the unseen. Elders are supposed to be weird, not simply “weirdos,” but strange and unusual in meaningful ways. Elders are supposed to be more in touch with the otherworld, but not out of touch with the struggles in this world. Elders have one foot firmly in the ground of survival and another in the realm of great imagination. This double-minded stance serves to help the living community and even helps the species survive.