I wake to the gentle pitter-patter of rain outside. One daughter is out of town, and the other is sick. We are granted full permission to rest. We cuddle, watch old movies, and eat soup. We laugh and play cards, and it feels like a sweet, lingering moment I want to last forever.
I sit down with Paul Simon playing in the background, yesterday's coffee reheated beside me. I am also making herbal tea blends with new passion, learning all the ways the plants want to support us.
I re-engaged more fully after hosting a circle for an eleven-year-old and her coven. We made real potions with real plants and our inner wisdom. I shared some cacao, and though it wasn't quite what they expected, it was a moment to share relational pieces in a fun way, celebrating a friend's birthday.
Every circle and ritual I step into brings lessons and awakenings. Eleven young girls on sugar can be tricky to engage. I might have overestimated their attention and the space. We put wishes in a pouch for the birthday girl and sang new songs. We drank cacao with intention and chose herbs for love, courage, friendship, peace, hope, and dreams, each girl tending to her heart's intention.
I felt my power go out as the building's power surged, taking away the support of lighting and music. The challenge was real and revealing.
This full moon in Leo feels similarly challenging and revealing. With the sun in Aquarius calling us into community, we are asked to examine how we care for and hold each other. Leo awakens us to our self-involvement, reminding us that each of us plays an individual part on this web, each a simple node. How, then, do we stay accountable and in relationship with the whole while taking care to hold our own? What does authenticity mean? How do we hold space for it to be recognized as a contribution to the whole?
The full moon in Leo calls in the fire element as an ally. The girls sat in fear, remembering the recent fires and destruction here in LA. We talked about how fire also promotes growth and transmutation. I hesitated to go into teacher mode, wanting to keep things simple and fun—we were celebrating a birthday, after all.
I found a group to sing with, a joyous moment. I am making art and writing. My heart feels activated, and then fear rises to the top. Over the years, I have learned to converse with the part of me who wants to stand in the corner, scared of embarrassment. I am learning to feel the shame and fear of alienation and gently ask for forgiveness and trust.
I cannot go back. I step forward, and in this vulnerable space of molting, where every part of me is mushy and soft and easily poked at, I now create soft yet firm boundaries. Does it sound like I have figured something out? Because I sit in darkness, and the mushy nature of my being right now feels intensely frightening. The only familiar piece here is the discomfort. The unknown looms; I am not sure who I am about to become or even who I want to be. I am here, listening, and very slowly becoming.
Pieces of glass
the delusion of pain
a heart broken.
Bare feet find solace
wet grass, soggy soil,
the significance not lost
I smell of compost
decomposing plant matter
I beg it to fill my nostrils
inhale - exhale
remembering
I am from this earth
my heart beats in tune
since my birth
I feel liminal
in a devastating landscape
rife with the sensation;
doubt
I excavate nothingness
debilitating pieces found
my mind unable
unreliable, rational.
My body my truest ally
I stand raw shattered
my heart song a cry
Shimmering pieces lead
I climb
one step at a time
I look up.
spiraling into
a new beginning.
slowly I find form
sentences emerge.
I am here to play
to learn, and create
in order to stay.
Grant me the permission,
space to find my obsession
I paint, I drum, I dance, I sing
the sound of my saxophone
an earthly tone in G
a frequency adjusted,
I prepare to step in
a new realm beckoning.
Again, I find myself in a public arena, sharing these moments. Strange phenomena—possibly believing that sharing the space and journey can help give it meaning.
My book of metamorphosis, "Bones", the journey of me and my soul, and the bones I have found along the way, has been written. I am happy to share it with those who want to read it. I would love to find a point of completion for it—possibly a publisher or an ebook to be shared from one friend to another. It's about my relationship with life and a conversation with my higher self. If you'd like to read it, let me know, and I'll send you a link. At this point, feedback is the gold I seek. It is feedback from those I encounter and could contribute to that matters to me.
The gold is in the immediacy of our connection and relationship. I am not interested in the masses; I am interested in how we fuel one another to keep moving, contributing, and staying on our individual tasks.
So, as Leo ignites the fire within me and I feel into the seeds of courage I planted during the new moon, I sense their
germination. I clear the debris and soil so they can find sunlight.
The rains have come with this snow moon, and we hold on tight as another phase of the grief cycle plays out. This phase can feel devastating, with landslides and all. Grab the hand reaching out to you and ensure we have our feet on solid ground.
Look at a leaf to see the divine, intricate nature of life's design, and look up to remember we are a sure part of it all.
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