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Showing posts from December, 2019

Making one's own map

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Hover over the heap of Star Ladies for a sweet and playful messageđź’š Town was busy with shoppers. Visitors and local folks fill the parking lots. I find a space just outside the crowded streets and walk the short distance. I spot someone we know who lives rough standing on the sidewalk and see his cardboard sign. Instinctively I check my wallet, find receipts from the week's shopping but no cash. On my way into town to buy something to eat, and other things to cook for supper it's no small thing to recognize the luxury of a small, warm wagon and enough in the checkbook to pay for groceries; the complaints of a soggy cobbled-together kitchen are falsities that need to be recycled.  I remember what my astrologer suggests and set an intention for Capricorn New Moon (just passed) in my 12th House:   "Solar eclipse in the 12th: Ease your burden by helping others bear theirs." It was easy to buy a bowl of warm chili, a couple oatmeal cookies and a packet

The Migrating Ancestor

Winter is damp and dreary here in the Salish Sea. Days of rain soak the ground and the thick rug we use as a door pulls heavy with moisture. Our roughly-cobbled kitchen stretches our tolerance for cold. Though there are recipes I can assemble and cook without getting as damp as our rug-door, more and more a can of good soup is a convenient nourishing option. I take it, and we are fed well enough. At this age the comfort of a 'settled life' is more than just a fantasy. My achy joints and tightened muscles ask for the contents of my safety deposit box of wants where a warm dry kitchen invites us. On the longest night, my thoughts dredge up the dirtiest of regrets, the most painful losses, and the worst of the worse futures. No wonder my joints and muscles complain. In the dark, I find my way to my cushion (the very one I sit at now) and calm myself beside the heater. I slow my thoughts down and remember not to believe everything I think. For the next two hours I migrate away f

Something less and something more.

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"Stepping out of old habits, like shedding old skin, is an occasion for celebration!" Exuberant in her declaration, the elf spun and turned multiple shades of purple. "You think?"Asked the Skeptical Me attached to things as they are,or confused about the present being the past. "Oh yes, permanency is as sure as the grains of sand of a beach." The gloriously purple one took us on a winter walk and while leaving footprints on sandy shore my skin slid away to become something less.... and something more. I have been sitting on a way of being that is ripe for change; literally, my Ancestors (speaking through my body, in the form of hemorrhoids) was giving me this message: "You are so fragile, my precious grandchild,"murmurs Grandmother  Growth. "But being tense and fearful will not compensate for fragility.In fact,your tension makes you more easily damaged." "You can't keep yourself together, You've lost the