We start Fall with a rare rainfall, a storm that stretches days, carried up the Gulf. The air cool, the rain streaming off the roof, overflowing gutters. As long as it’s not thundering, I can sit in peace. Since July, Peggy has been on a whole anti-anxiety regiment, including medication, to help manage her storm phobia through the monsoons. Every storm is a conflict between joy for rain in the desert and dread for Peggy’s little brain.
The past three months seem to have slid by agonizingly slow and without much to note. Most of August was swallowed by a several-week-long disruption to our routine by a broken water main and the subsequent mess of repairs & setbacks. Frustrating blockages, burdens that brim on feeling unmanageable, unending. And every day we must go to work, get the things done, carry on as usual. Capitalism, the Way Things Are, has felt especially like a wet wool cloak, heavy boots, a drudgery. I have felt deeply unsatisfied with the options, unbalanced, and unclear of paths forward. I am hoping the fall will bring momentum. With events and holidays, flurries of activity, things to do, things are moving forward, moving onward, I think.
This past month I ventured on a weekend trip to New Mexico with Jess and Dana, which was a nice reprieve. The most amazing sunsets, hummingbird infestations, and hot spring soaks. Shortly after, Dana, Sarah, and I took a trip to Flagstaff for the Northern Arizona Book Festival, where I read some works in progress, we drank some beers, ate some food, the usual Flagstaff vibe.
What else have I been up?
> Leading Book Coven at The Ninth House twice a month.
> Reading Waking the Witch by Pam Grossman.
> Mulling over my writing. A small collection has formed and is pressing to expand, but into what and where and how?
> Watching Summer Camp Island, which I can’t hype enough.
> Watching my precious herb containers die and the community garden grow weird.
So what’s becoming? How do we find balance on this first autumnal evening? I crack an egg for my Yaga self. I ask the bones to see.
The throwing mat ready, house hot-boxed with mugwort smoke, and when the bones land we stare, slow to make meanings. Feel like we’ve been living in a thick muck, and in this throw we can’t break free either. Divination is not always clear, obvious, not always a lightning bolt. We step through the bones in our mind, giving space for them to show us what they’re telling. This is where you see the strings. That sometimes we’re just not feeling it. Sometimes the magic seems like a fizzle, a dud bottle rocket failing to launch, or maybe like a will-o-wisps, some faint taunting off in the distance, unreachable.
Here’s working through it: You, fragile, need to work on your root chakra. You, stuck in the past maybe. Forging into the future. Not present, consumed by what’s being lost, what’s coming. A lightning bolt of attention saying you are here. Like a bottom line. Here. A herald call. Once vibrant, now drained. How will you heal?
A snake wrapped around your back leg. Something insidious has you by the foot. There’s a link between your health and your subconscious. These feelings of suffocation, strangulation, tightens as you fight it. There is a need for more flexibility and movement. A time to cast off skins and grow. Maybe quite literally saying you need to move more, do yoga, stretch out. How are you using your life energy?
There is chaos in your core, an unbalanced heavy left side. The Three of Swords appears in the shapes etched out by the bones.
First, the imposing Moose crushing Fox and Rabbit. Has Moose energy gotten out of balance? Become territorial, forceful, headstrong, inflamed. Stamping out the underfoot, the subtle. Overpowering the thinking, cunning, working, moving. The Sheep is nudging at the side, a support, a peacemaker, helper in a conflict. The softest, “weakest” parts of us, our Sheep and Rabbit, can be the best helpers and advocates. Can lift us up.
And then, at first Bison appears squashed by Elk, but on closer examination, perhaps Bison is holding up Elk. Maybe this too applies to Moose. Are these aspects, the Moose and Elk, actually being elevated by the others? A holding up, an offering, a collective “LOOK!” Look at these heavy, lifeless energies. What have you neglected, what has gone dead and needs reviving?
Collectively there is a feeling of flushing out, of together an expelling. There is energy, motion sweeping to the sides. There is a sense of community, of building. A time to clean out and assess, give yourself a clear space to grow in.
Finally, at the heart center Muskrat and Hedgehog dance around one another. Part of survival is finding your allies, is breathing deeply, is speaking your feelings. And in doing so, there will be joy and curiosity and movement to carry warmth into this season.