Deborah Lipp

I’m in the process of writing up some Starwood diary stuff, because I know you’re all dying for my event report.

But Starwood isn’t just an event, it’s a magical space. As such, it can have…themes. Meaning in your life. And this year, the meaning for me was about communication. This year, it seemed I was continually in a position where I was standing between two people conveying communication back and forth, often with failure. So-and-so is pissed at whosy-who, and I’m in between. Rest assured, Starwood is a magical place, and all of these communications worked out for the best, and all is well. But I got to be with me as an agent of that communication.

I found myself saying “My worst fear is that the people I love will all hate each other.” I didn’t know I had that fear, but it came from a pretty deep place as I said it. A week later, I suddenly realize that this fear is my childhood entirely.

The message, to a child, of an acrimonious divorce is, “You can’t have all the love you need.” Period. You can have Mommy or Daddy, but not both, and not together, and neither will ever be comfortable with the fact that you love the other. Not, I suppose, inevitable in all divorce, and I believe Isaac and I have made sure it never happened in our divorce, but certainly it is the story of my first divorce, the one I lived with as a child.

I have said twelve thousand times that when we work to create Pagan family and Pagan community, we replicate our families of origin. When we have some experience with therapy, we can create family more consciously and in a way that is healing instead of knee-jerk.

I found, this week, that I have created a family big enough, diverse enough, and loving enough that I can never have all the love taken from me, that I can never end up alone with everyone hating each other. Things are good now, and things can always be less good. Acrimony can happen. Total population of the people I am in comfortable, loving relationships with can be reduced. But I see that in building the Clan, we have given ourselves a gift that cannot be broken. Splintered, okay, if necessary. But not broken. And that is a great comfort.

I will still have my fears. I will always, I think, be a person who can be in a warm and caring crowd and still be afraid I am alone. But I can also shake off that fear, and take in the love.