“Things aren’t the way they should be.
Things are the way the are.”
In the Southern Hemisphere, we are fading into the Longest Night.
The Longest Night holds the secrets of the eternal velvet blackness, whose star-speckled truth is often blinded by the activity of the single sun.
But this is Christmas.
And it has a spirit…
An evergreen tree would be brought inside, to remind everyone that not everything dies in Winter.
And we’d all stay warm, together, close, and sharing.
Intimacy: that Invisible Light.
We would return to the Womb of Life, where we all began, for nourishment, “time-out”, and rebirth.
Any fears we find in the stillness and shadows of that deep inner-space, or that we find obscuring the glittering hope of infinite stars, are projections of our scarred psyche.
Individual, or collective – depending on your reach.
This is the place of dreams.
Or of nightmares.
We colour it, we seed it, like painters.
Look to the changing of the seasons, and look to the moon.
Look to the rising and the setting of the sun.
Feel the Rhythm of Life turning in you.
The Winter Solstice is the deepest in-breath.
The day after tomorrow, we breathe out.
So take this time to commune with the Dreamtime, and meet The Alchemist who dwells in the centre of the Earth, whose portals are the caves, and the hollows in the trees.
The one who grinds bones to ashes, to dust, to black oil… hand over your everything and she’ll make you medicine.
Create a “List of Loss“.
From Loved Ones
Sometimes, things are taken from us
Sometimes, we let things go.
Sometimes, we are the ones who take things away…
You may put your List in an envelope, and address it to Crone Lhamo, if you wish.
You can post it in the mail (haha)
Or: you can Light a Fire – a portal to her stash of ashes – and you can deliver it to her Cauldron of Alchemy, that way.
Return it all to the void from which it was born.
Nothing was ever really “yours”
– except you.
Meditate upon this:
Assuming you are working with Flame (and not the post office)
Find that flame within you that never dies
That which is you, yours.
That which has never been touched.
Become One with that flame for a while.
Immerse yourself in yourself.
Get to know your true, inextinguishable power.
Gather your strength, and purity.
Imagine it growing bigger and bigger
Consuming your Heart
Consuming your Body
Until you Glow
Let it burn away the outer shell of muck that the world has projected upon you, that has made your Soul Shrink.
* * * VIBES * * *
If you like them, then:
(feel the “Mm” in the bridge of your nose)
The first one is Ganesh, who unblocks all your chakras and portals and makes you clean and clear – ready for fine-tuning, like the Instrument of Peace and Change that you are.
The second one is Kali Ma, with the Red Tongue. She takes yukky things away.
(*these are phonetic)
Remember that only what is empty can be filled.
Remember that all the leaves must go, before Spring can bloom.
Remember the acorn that transforms into an oak, only by being completely shattered.
“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
~ Anais Nin
To remind you of your blooming, work with flowers.
Anoint your Heart with Rose oil or water, or some flower you like.
If you’re lucky enough to have a bath, bathe in it.
Add salt, and Lavender: both dissolve negative energy and cleanse the auric field ~ the colour violet.
If you don’t have a bath, make a magical solution, and anoint yourself with it; from the tip of your head to the tips of your toes.
The temples, behind the ears, between the eyes, down the throat, and keep going…
Remember what it feels like to *~ Bloom ~*
As you touch each space, imagine it bursting open, sloughing off the old, and bursting forth new light…
Create a circle.
Out of stones, or cushions, or stand or sit in a hula-hoop.
This is the circle that represents no beginning, and no end; time out of time.
This gives you an idea of boundaries, yet also of our sameness; our personal space, to which we are all entitled.
Allowing only what we want in that space, and filling that circle with our self, our radiance, our expression.
Feel all cords and connections being burned away in the Light of your Radiance and Power, and falling outside the circle, retracting to whom they came from, or seeping into the earth, or withering like a severed umbilical cord.
Letting go of what once nourished you, and tuning into that flame that you are of The Great Bonfire.
This Solstice, there is a Global Prayer happening: essentially, it’s about praying for people who don’t know spirit, to know spirit.
Those who don’t know Spirit, go around stealing energy from others, and consuming everything in their wake.
So sit in your Spirit Circle, let go of any contracts/energy cords to which you were not party.
Any old Soul Contracts – just let go.
You can make new ones; for now, it’s too confusing and chaotic…
Just let it all go.
And pray for everyone to know The One.
We are all connected.
Throw out all the dead things; dead flowers, empty packets, used tealight shells, junk mail – anything you can find with dead energy.
Clear your space, and offer it up the trash portal – another secret entrance the the Cave of Lhamo.
So you want to be conscious of waste, and discard it gratefully.
Into the cauldron we go…
Clear your Heart
“Stop insisting on clearing your head — clear your fucking heart instead.”
~ Charles Bukowski
Everyone is in there; some like thorns, some deeper than others, some like an ice-pick, a dagger, or an axe.
People are constantly starting things they don’t finish.
Some find the passcode, unlock the safe, and run away with the jewels…
Some turn your Heart to a Harp, and play it like you’ve never heard it sing before ~ or will again.
And you knock on your chest; no harp, only thuds.
But you know what?
Clearing the Heart is a big job, but first of all, remember that it’s YOUR Love.
No one made you any more or less Loving.
It was you, the whole time.
It’s your Heart, the core of you, and it met people, and it Loved them.
The biggest problem, is that so many people are so disconnected from their Hearts, they weren’t even aware of the conversation it was having with yours.
They’re all up in their head, trying to be in control, and make practical decisions about what they would like in life.
– this is such a big topic, all of its own; I couldn’t possibly cover it in just this section.
The truth is, people don’t know how to be Soul Mates.
They approach relationships like a contract, and usually, LOVE is far from being involved.
There’s a warmth, an attraction, a partnership.
But Soul is usually locked in the safe.
And you *know* a person who has known REAL Love; the two of you could be in Love in an instant, because you both carry it around in your Hearts.
It is the silent smile, shared.
Everyone else just has a résumé, and a compatibility shopping list.
There is one other kind of Love-er: The Warden.
So first of all, we’re going to breathe into the Heart, and feel for any fractures.
We are going to listen, and we are going to talk.
Because the Heart is a Unicorn.
It’s a rare and magical creature with a bio-luminescence all of its own.
It sends out homing signals to those who speak its particular language.
– it doesn’t use English.
So, I can’t really say much more about it; nothing compares to what I could tell you with a hug.
If you want some intensive help to Clear your fucking Heart, then utilise this, and adapt it accordingly: for example, replace ‘mind’, with ‘heart’, and use your thoughts to sort out your feelings.
You could draw a Heart Mandala, and hear what it really has to say, face to face…
Creativity is the fire, that flame of inextinguishable you…
And don’t be mean to your Heart – it’s clearly been through enough.
Return to Sender
When Love wants to pour forth healing, potential, growth, expansion, and all sorts of untold magic, and the recipient for whom it was intended does not wish to receive it, it’s then that we must return that Love to sender.
Or burn forever with longing, and aim.
Divine Love comes from The Source.
That Bonfire of which we are flames.
Divine Love has plans for us all.
But there is also, free will.
First, Love is a gift.
Second, it is a choice.
So if we can’t let it out, it must go back in…
Commune with your Radiance, and Return unfulfilled Love to Sender.
I just wrote spontaneous short story, titled:
A Winter With Tom Waits
Due to technical complications, I am unable to share it at this time…
It’s about letting go.
And I’m unsure how much of that I want to share; you know, in great detail.
I mean, how relevant is any of it to you?
Are you letting go of the same things that I am?
Do we even know how to slough off the old self?
I am losing more than just myself.
Ok, Here it is. And I did hold back…
A WINTER WITH TOM WAITS
That’s what it’s all about.
I finally found a cave for the winter; I bought a brown-bear-brown mat for my feet to step onto first thing in the morning – they’re shaped like a pair of Bigfoot’s feet; the feet are fawn.
(- pretending to write, pre-internet craze, I avoided using an emoji to indicate a smile… then I thought: “What if I’ve been reading everything wrong, forever…?”
What if I have been reading everything with no smile on the end, where one was intended; forcing every full-stop to a serious end.
For “fawn” makes me smile… but how would you know that?
Speaking of you; have we ever read, with the author assuming we were there? You know, pre-internet – or have we always just been voyeurs?
– suddenly, I’m Carrie Bradshaw; with a never-ending stream of more questions than answers.
So, where was I? O, that’s right; It’s winter, and I’m in my cave.
The walls are a grounding shade of “mushroom” – I despise those shady characters, but I am actually referring to a Revlon shade of eye-shadow that I stole (or felt entitled to) from my mother. Or maybe she gave it to me…? The lines of family are blurry, in that way.
This earthy shade is in the brown family – but it’s not heavy; it hides a secret hue of Lavender, somewhere deep inside… invisible. Enchanted.
I daydream an Art Deco ceiling-rose around the mini-chandelier when I’m lying down, reading the roof.
Before I got back, He put up some heavy curtains. They’re forest-green; they remind me of the woods, of pine trees, of oxygen. Life.
This cave feels enchanted – a string of flower fairy-lights frame one wall; I keep them on forever. Company.
Speaking of enchantment, I’ve seen The Unicorn.
I’m not sure I know what it means, exactly, but it’s an initiation. That I know.
The Unicorn and The Lover came at the same time. A transmission; awakening; activation.
I sent him a short story about that activation; about his, “touching the centre of a sphere”…
The Unicorn brings me New Spirit Medicine, and it joins the ranks of my Spider, Whale, and Peacock & Flamingo ~ what a magical team.
I’ve been Houseless for three years, now.
That’s a term I read on the internet, and it makes SO much more sense.
Homelessness is, like, not the thing.
I am Home.
But a House, I have not.
It’s a bigger thing; it’s like, a reflection of the state of Global Slavery. Of the aftermath of genocide. Crazy.
I’m a Temple Priestess -and we know what happened to them.
This cave could have been beautiful… it could have been the place of my letting go.
It could have been the place where I finally have all of my belongings and myself and my bed under the one roof, and I can look through these reflections of who I was, and through letting go, discover who I am, now.
Because since fading, one thing I’ve learned is that the outer charade matters; you know, “If you don’t have a character, you can’t be in the movie!”. It’s supposed to be fun.
(not smiling, here.)
Because I have a lot to let go of… I used to believe in Home. In matching crockery, blankets for everyone, and the warmth that only a “Home” can provide.
Wall Art, for gods sake.
Being Houseless is like an endless winter… and what do we crave in winter…?
He reminds me of Christmas. Which is strange, because where I live, Christmas is in Summer.
But Tom reminds me of a Winter Wonderland – it must be his voice. Obviously – singer – but it feels connected to his Heart… and isn’t that where “Home” is?
– ugh, Carrie.
If I was listening to the radio, they’d be talking about talking-about World War III.
What is the romance of war? That tragedy finally brings people together?
That it takes death to really Love?
Does Life become complacent?
I’m ambiguous about it, really… something’s gotta give.
It is only the Global Slavery System that seeks to orchestrate a war; people don’t really want it. People, generally, are sweet…
(I smile, fondly)
I have a lot of letting go to do if I want to get to where I want to be; to who I want to be.
“Hold On, Baby gotta hold on. Take my hand.
I’m standing right here, you gotta hold on.”
(I am neither smiling nor not-smiling.)
– see how he waits?!
So what is it that I am skirting around?
What is it that I am having difficulty articulating?
Am I ready to get naked?
Inventory: in case you’ve had to “let go” sometime, too…
Here is a list of things that I am letting go of, or things that are being ripped from me, or things that are just dissolving.
I’ll start with the hardest one, first. That’s my family.
My Grandfather is dying.
He is my last grandparent… I grieved every one, because I used to belong to a family. We all had our places, and our roles, and our dynamics.
I don’t think I’ll ever see him, again.
(you can imagine a crying emoji, right here.)
A whole bunch of stuff happened ~ I don’t really want to talk about it, but *I feel* like my mother shut me out. To go through it alone, or whatever. Soon, she’ll have no parents left.
So, even though I really wanted to see him, I had to turn toward myself; the most difficult and unnatural state I’ve ever been in. But that’s what it’s come down to, unfortunately. And I suddenly feel like not helping anyone, again. I could never have imagined that – ever – in the past.
But I seem to have reached the age where, “Life stops giving you things and starts taking them away.”
The Second thing, is Me.
Letting go (again), of me.
I will be 35 in a couple of months, and that’s about middle age. (unless you’re a Taoist, in which case: just a baby!)
– but that might be the problem.
I think I have to grow up and change.
Since my family has dissolved, I grieved this same thing, three times, before – and now a fourth.
And that is: I feel really sad that my family never got to meet anyone who Loved me.
Because I’ve never met anyone who Loved me.
Out of everyone in my family, I never got to bring anyone to Christmas.
– there’s a lot in there.
But, it’s time to face some facts, and accept some realities;
Being an astrologer, keywords such as “dissolve”, and “family”, might indicate Neptune in the 4th House… that would be correct. Twin my South Node: everything I ever was.
Out of everything I’ve read, I really appreciate the no-bullshit approach to case studies.
This includes the South Node in Cancer or the 4th House.
Someone (probably a Sagittarius) aptly said:
“Let’s face it; if you have South Node in Cancer or the 4th House, having a family just isn’t going to work for you.”
The reason for that, is that the focus is all in the opposite direction; worldy affairs.
So my two-and-half thing, is I’m letting go of my youth.
“…it’s time to put childish things aside.” ~ Dr. Robert Doback
The Third thing, is my Rosemary Plant.
(you can read about her brief life a few posts, below)
The reason (one of), that I am leaving here.
And I don’t feel so protective of this story – my mad, soon-to-be EX friend.
He has Moon in Capricorn, can I get a: “DOMESTIC CONTROL”?!
Seriously: WHO HAS TIME FOR THIS?
I feel like I’m in a frat house, with some kid who’s just moved out of home for the first time, and does NOT know how the real world works.
I am feeling murderous… over the smallest things.
He is the most controlling person I have ever lived with.
As such, *this* whole “thing” was aborted, and is a bit of a bloody mess, currently.
The short version, is that he was recently diagnosed as schizophrenic, and maybe I should pay attention to that.
He dug-up my symbolic Rosemary plant that I planted, on the Sagittarius Honey Moon.
I planted her, because my family was dissolving. I feel like I have no roots, anywhere, and if I pay close attention, I can see the signs:
The Fourth Thing, is my Privacy.
(again. I let go of a bit of that in my first book; I was really The Witness, there)
My only direction, is to go public.
North Node in the 10th House.
I just have to go out, rather than in.
I am learning to drive so that I can be inside and outside, at the same time.
According to everyone, I can drive; but I like someone with me… 4th House past doesn’t get to have that.
Usually, i separate my public life and my deeper, private self… but what the hell:
Emotions for Everyone!
So… I’m not sure whether to pay attention to the loss – to *feel* my way through it – or to take another dose of homeopathic ignatia…
Currently leaning toward that latter.
And I am thinking of the saddest things…
Just all these awful memories of loss, that I won’t go into, here, but they will sort of be in one of my new books.
Mixed with foreign tears that echo someone else’s sadness…
Being a empath is really confusing; I never know who’s sweet tears are falling down my face…
I had “hoped’, that Jupiter approaching my Moon might bring a stroke of Luck on the Homefront; but i was aware that it may just mean BIG. EMOTIONS. Which seems the case; with a New Moon, to boot. RESET. And of course, that’s all just EMPHASIZED.
In the 9th House, though, I REALLY want to write. A lot.
The Last thing, is my Town.
I just don’t belong here, anymore.
So, Thank You, Tom Waits, for vibin’ on me, for *feeling* like “Home”, and for inspiring one of my new projects, coming soon.
And thank you for reading – it felt good to get it all off my chest.
In this clutter of projection, writing is one of the only things we have left to get a ‘really good look” at ourselves. Hopefully, reflected in each other.
Until then; Hold On, says Tom-who-Waits…
They hung a sign up in our town
“if you live it up, you won’t
live it down”
So, she left Monte Rio, son
Just like a bullet leaves a gun
With charcoal eyes and Monroe hips
She went and took that California trip
Well, the moon was gold, her
Hair like wind
She said don’t look back just
Come on Jim
Oh you got to
Hold on, Hold on
You got to hold on
Take my hand, I’m standing right here
You gotta hold on
Well, he gave her a dimestore watch
And a ring made from a spoon
Everyone is looking for someone to blame
But you share my bed, you share my name
Well, go ahead and call the cops
You don’t meet nice girls in coffee shops
She said baby, I still love you
Sometimes there’s nothin left to do
Oh you got to
Hold on, hold on
You got to hold on
Take my hand, I’m standing right here, you got to
Just hold on.
Well, God bless your crooked little heart St. Louis got the best of me
I miss your broken-china voice
How I wish you were still here with me
Well, you build it up, you wreck it down
You burn your mansion to the ground
When there’s nothing left to keep you here, when
You’re falling behind in this
Big blue world
Oh you go to
Hold on, hold on
You got to hold on
Take my hand, I’m standing right here
You got to hold on
Down by the Riverside motel,
It’s 10 below and falling
By a 99 cent store she closed her eyes
And started swaying
But it’s so hard to dance that way
But it’s so hard to dance that way
When it’s cold and there’s no music
Well your old hometown is so far away
But inside your head
There’s a record that’s playing
A song called
Baby, gotta hold on
I’m standing right here
You got to hold on