Tenacious Magic ~ Chapter 10
S and KM settle in together, Sufi dance is a catalyst, a dark prophesy, "Are we going to do this, or not?"
Dear Friends,
This week we return to 2009 and the unfolding story of S and H in NYC. This one sent me back through my journals where I think I excavated 20,000 words—two or three chapters at least. Phew.
This process hasn’t been easy. It’s humbling to revisit this time in my life—especially, the struggles and habits of the personality that I fought with so viciously. Some of them stick to me still—tenaciously.
Integration done deliberately and fully like this is a strange sensation. I am retreading the most minute details and finding gems. Also, realizing memory is a slippery thing!
What I realized this week is that the key thing missing in me at this time was an embodied knowledge of the feminine. In what you’ll read here, I haven’t gotten to know Her, yet. And it hurts me to go back and be without it…without Her. (Though of course, I was, and we are, never without Her…Just without an awareness of Her loving presence.)
When I feel myself in these before-times, I feel an emptiness that makes me ache for my young self. Sometimes, I want to reach back through time and hold the hand of the me then—comfort her, give her support. I guess that’s what I am doing. I hope she feels it. I spent an afternoon weeping for her…me…all of us. They were old tears, mellowed with age; tears I didn’t shed then. It felt good.
As usual, please let me know what you are seeing and feeling in the story. You can use the comments. I like this option because then we can build on them publicly, together. Or if you prefer to send me a private note, you can do that here: schuyler@artofemergence.com. So much is alchemized in our relating around what’s happening. Katherine and I need you!
Also, mark your calendar or sign up for two upcoming events!
Wednesday, March 29, 6-7pm EST—Tenacious Magic live Book Club on Zoom (For anyone who has read any of it. You don’t need to be caught up.)
Wednesday, April 5, 7-8pm EST—A Conversation with Holly McFarland about Tenacious Magic, Ancestral Healing, and Gathering Women Between the Worlds. Registration will be announced soon. Holly’s website: http://hollymcfarland.net/
These Tenacious Magic chapters are now behind the paywall, though the first seven were free to all subscribers. If you like what you’re reading here or want to start from the beginning, I urge you to go back to my introduction to this project, or Chapter 1 and/or subscribe to keep reading! If this isn’t your thing, don’t worry! My Substack will continue to have free content related to embodiment, meditation, Tantra, and poetry.
Now, on to the story…

“There does seem to be a moment when you realize that, quite by accident, you happen to have come on to the stage at exactly the moment you were expected. Everything is arranged for you—waiting for you. Ah, master of the situation! You fill with important breath. And at the same time you smile, secretly, slyly, because Life seems to be opposed to granting you these entrances, seems indeed to be engaged in snatching them from you and making them impossible, keeping you in the wings until it is too late, in fact. . . . Just for once you’ve beaten the old hag.”
—Katherine Mansfield, Je ne Parle pas Français
Brooklyn, August 2009
It’s a long subway ride back to Brooklyn from the Upper East Side. The name, Katherine Mansfield, repeats in her mind like a mantra. She can think of almost nothing else. “The poet…” H had said, “Look her up.” It sounds so familiar, and yet there are no clear associations. S considers searching with her phone but something tells her she needs privacy—she can’t imagine why—so, she waits.
Inside the apartment, she walks the long hallway, drops her heavy bag onto a chair, and sits on the couch in the living room. The tall windows offer their spectacular view of the city’s skyscrapers sparkling in the midday sun, but she doesn’t notice. She’s already looking at the computer.
S types ‘Katherine Mansfield…’ Immediately several images and links appear on the screen. She catches her breath.
“It’s me,” she thinks with a shock.
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