Bright and joyous Vernal Equinox, First Day of Spring, Ostara, Full Worm Moon, etc. In Tucson, it truly feels like spring already—the wildflowers blooming in droves after a gray and rainy winter. Spring’s message of renewal and rebirth is an obvious one. The energy of bees and flies smacking around the porch, birds scoping out nest space along the carport beams, hawk calls piercing the dull afternoon hum, the first lizard causality of the season to my ever-vigilant dogs.
We upturned the long-unused containers in our yard and planted little gardens: rosemary, mint, parsley, oregano, thyme, lavender, and succulents. We’ll see how it all does under the care of a blundering plant-killer (me) and my team of rowdy hounds.
I’ve been shot through with lightning the past months—writing in fits and spells, a faucet blasting on and off. Some poems trickling out to lit mag slush piles to try my luck.
We had some disruption and frustration with gas line construction at the start of New Year, and as always agitations here and there: at work, in life, in the world, in the brain. I’m getting steadier with my magic practice and leaning into ritual, grounding and cleansing and banishing and binding. In January, the coven retreated to Prescott to a little, secluded cabin for the full moon weekend. 10/10, would do it again.
What else have I been up to?
> Watching Pen15 on Hulu.
> Talking with Cartridge Lit about my essay and other stuff. Check out the interview here.
> Reading Dana and Melissa’s newly released collaborative book: The Classroom.
> Listening to Better Oblivion Community Center.
> Singing karaoke at the local KTV.
> Herding sheep out on a craggy, mountain ranch my gritty, little heeler Yukon and hunting rats with Peggy.
So what’s becoming? What seeds will blossom in this season? I crack an egg for my Yaga self. I throw the bones to see.
A cycle of conflict is brewing. Circular conversations, talking around a center point of contention. It’s not a fight exactly, it’s a dance round and around. Conflict is too direct a word for what’s coming. It’s a chatter, a momentum churning. It’s a rodent-like mania. Frantic busyness. These energies work very well together and cooperate, but also feed each other: nervousness, chattiness, industrious, everything hinging and “yes and”-ing into the next.
Piercing the cycle is the bison, serving as the masculine side to interrupting this stomach ache. Acting in this cycle as a strong support and giving rootedness. Bison energy reminds us to be respectful, have strength, remember what is sacred, persevere and be resilient. A powerful earth element; grounded, stalwart, and whole.
The hedgehog wedges in counter to the bison, a gentle “ahem.” The feminine balance to bring when you feel the cyclone getting out of control. Adding vision, the hedgehog is what sees the biggest picture. Hedgehog energy reminds us to be sensitive but guarded. An inquisitive and positive creature. See as an outsider curiously observing, and be quick to retreat and protect yourself if you feel a threat. It’s okay to have to remove yourself sometimes. Go enjoy your garden, connect with the earth, hear the chatter and show interest but don’t get involved.
The counter weights of bison and hedgehog will keep the cycle of anxious, busy energy from spiraling. Remember this when you feel yourself veering hard into the curve of being overworked, speaking negative, and feeding into endless anxiety and toil.
Acting as your grounding tailbone is the moose paired with the snake--reminding us that we must be flexible and open to changes and transformations. We must shed our skin once in awhile, and this will allow our busy, wrapped-up selves access to our base-self. A self who is patient, enduring, and steadfast. Good-natured and peaceful, but a powerful force when reckoned with, deadly protective when pushed. The moose is a deliberate creature. To ground yourself channel this calm, balanced energy.
Outside of your gut center, you are starkly divided. Your heart shielded with antlers and scales. Your spiritual self, your heart self on one side and your practical self on the other. Your right-hand, go-to mode is to work hard, fit in, and go home. To be clever, alert, on-the ball is a constant poke in the side. You can be exceptionally skilled in your work and your home life, accomplishing tasks and chores with ease. It’s like you divide out yourself. Your gut a ball, your heart an ancient hidden well, your body and brain a swift machine that knows its place, the status quo.
This is not a bad thing. This season, you will want to protect your selves. Keep a wall for your private self, lean on your home life, take joy and pride in your abilities, stay balanced. There’s an anxious creature stewing in you (not bad! It just is a fact of life). Just remember to bring the rodent-brained guts to a slow with careful interruptions and reminders of perspective. Remembering that the talk and chatter and digging and burrowing and spinning away can feel good but you must break off once in awhile to honor yourself and stay in balance with all aspects of who you are.