Celebrating November

Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree of Freedom .

November turned out to be a month none of us really expected, and I’m not sure if I’m glad it went by fast or not. In any case, I was told repeatedly that it would be a month for celebration.

Witch Moon Rising, Witch Moon Waning

Looking at my royally fucked-up roof and quite unhappy that I’m going to have to kick some ass over it and make them take off every last shingle and re-do the whole thing, I’m having a hard time thinking of November as a time of celebration.

Vicki and I are comparing notes. She always takes a break every November and concentrates on spiritual renewal. This year, she felt a bit robbed, but if I remember correctly, something similar happened last year. This year, too many work and re-work projects started hindering her November, but by the end, she’d taken control, made some plans, and decided to do things her way for a change.

My favorite change in her is that she’s stopped giving away her fire as much. There’s a difference between sharing your light and warmth and giving away your kindling. But it’s a lesson we’ve both had to learn. She’s had some good things happen this November and yes, there’s cause for celebration, even in unlikely places.

“I don’t know that I have that much to celebrate,” I tell her. “I mean, the things I thought I’d be celebrating haven’t happened.”

Then again, a lot has.

I regained my love for my current novel, Dark Revelations, to the point where, tonight while dictating a scene with my head in the stars and my feet treading through grass, I seemed to be channeling. It’s a wonderful feeling, and it just seemed that with my root chakra firmly connected to earth energy flowing upward and my crown chakra open to the heavens and flowing downward, the cross flow got things moving again. I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth, aimed into the tape recorder and awaiting transcription. I didn’t know where it was coming from, either the phrasing or the concepts, but I was floored. I just opened my mouth and let it flow. This I can celebrate.Flying By Night novel

I made some magnificent plans with my best friend, all the while with the two of us saying, “Hey, why haven’t we thought of this before?” We were talking about novels and non-fiction books we wrote because of editors who loved our work, but the old thriller-loving editors left and the new editors hated suspense and so we just shoved our manuscripts under the bed and wrote something new.

Between the two of us, we have a least 8 possible reprints and another dozen brand-new novels that we never sent anywhere else because of option clauses that kept us in indentured servitude to Harlequin/Silhouette and a couple of editorial twits who left long ago, after telling us to take out the suspense in our suspense novels because “it’s suspenseful enough whether the boy gets the girl.” So now we re-birth our older work, with a few minor tweaks. This I can celebrate.

I found out I don’t have cancer. This I can most definitely celebrate.

I got a raise. A bit more than expected, with a cost-of-living raise coming in January and a group of clients who appreciate me. This I can celebrate.

I got another terrific Goddess book off to the printers. An amazing batch of stories that touch me to the core. Yes, this too I can celebrate.

I finished up all my old debts and obligations, including paying off my ex (the last of the divorce requirements), paying my house taxes, funding my IRA for the year, moving funds to better paying accounts, and getting the paperwork verified on the previously funded college accounts for the girls. This I can celebrate.

I stood my ground with the insurance company and they paid off the claim, most of it anyway, and far more than I’d thought a month ago. This I can celebrate.

I made plans to start having my Gatherings again. For a while this Summer, some of my guests were using them for decidedly non-spiritual purposes and so they simply stopped, particularly while I was under deadline and in crisis mode. But they’ll start back this weekend, and in a far more unusual way than ever before. The answer to how has become clear. So has the answer to why. This I can celebrate.

I figured out my mission in life and my place in the world. I’ll say this quietly and with reverence: this I can celebrate.

I heard from a couple of old friends, one asking for forgiveness and the other…not. And a third old friend just checking in because we hadn’t talked in a while and she was wondering how I was doing. This I can celebrate.

I had a fantastic month with my daughters, and I’m very proud of the young women they’re becoming. This I can definitely celebrate.

I’ve continued my spiritual work and my epiphanies, my work with AngelSu and Vicki and Jean and Michael and Jane, and my discoveries with Vila and Kelley, and things are opening in new and unexpected ways. And even though I’m tired of hearing Cheap Trick’s “I Want You to Want Me” and its guitar riff at 2 a.m. when I fall asleep and then wake to hear Alanis’ “That I Would Be Good,” yes, this too I can celebrate!

I spent a few hours talking to my big brother at our annual “Let’s go for a ride after Thanksgiving dinner” and reading him empathically whether either of us wanted me to. This year was different. He’s usually the one doing the counseling and telling me how his religion’s better than mine.

This year, for the first time ever, our discussion was very evenly matched, and I felt maybe I was in more of a counseling mode than he was and I was happy to be the one offering him support this time instead of crying on his shoulder about how to deal with porn addicts. This new point in our sibling relationship? This I can celebrate.

“Yeah,” I tell Vicki, “but how can I celebrate the month when you think about what happened with the roof?”

“That’s the biggest thing to celebrate of all,” she tells me. She reminds me of what I would have done a year ago or two years ago. She reminds me of the lessons I’ve learned and the opportunities this nightmare has provided.

I know for sure now that I can take care of myself. I know I can stand up for myself and not be run over and not roll over and not play dead. I don’t have to have a man to take care of business around the house—I never had that before, not really, but I felt more comfortable with the illusion of someone helping me to take care of those little things.

I don’t need anyone to take care of me or the house or the yards or pull down my credit rating or change my tire or fix my car or fetch the mail or argue with a repair man on my behalf. I can handle it. I may not always want to, but I can do it if I have to.

I know that I’ll be all right, that I am okay.

And that, as much as anything else, is something I can definitely celebrate.