I am in-between selves right now. I am in-between lives and worlds right now. I hope that I am in-between exhaustion and exhilaration, but all I can feel right now is the exhaustion. I feel like there is so much emptiness around me as if I am in a dark womb, not knowing that I am about to be born. or I have already been born and I am in the ICU because it was traumatic asf and I am already sick from the violations of this world. that is what actually happened when I entered this dimension, and it has not stopped happening since. I have not stopped being sick of the violations of this world and I have not stopped needing to recover. this is where I find myself now, except this time my hands are full of remedies and I am The Mother the terrified infant inside of me is crying for in this moment of (re)birth.
annual profections are an ancient astrological timing technique where upon birth, you enter the activation of your first house (area of life). on your first solar return, you enter the second house and so it continues, each solar return activating the consecutive house. the cycle repeats through the twelve houses until you die. what a beautiful, effortless way to time travel.
I am trying to just write, not work or teach here but I am bringing this up because I am currently in a house activation I haven’t been in since I was 15. it has come with a resurfacing of desires I had buried at the bottom of my oceans at that time in my life. at first it was glorious time travel, though there was grief that I had abandoned them to begin with. now, it is painful as the pathways I thought were opening towards those desires have closed. it is ultimately for my protection and I am always truly grateful to Saturn, but the grief has been immense. what do I do now, with these handfuls of crushed flowers, these temporary hopes that belonged only in springtime?
I know there are seeds here and when the land is ready I could plant them, but it is not time yet and honestly I am tired of redeeming every disappointment through my own sheer will and effort. this dying paradigm continues to take from us, sneaking into the crevices of our lovers and friends until we are barren from all the taking. I am so tired of all the taking. I am so tired of all the losses.
I can only be available to what replenishes and protects me. I vowed to myself some time ago that I would no longer live in the emergency of a wired nervous system and if that means more aloneness, then so it is. I have never decided to live in fear of that. I always walk away when I am not being served sacred reciprocity, and sometimes that means walking away from ways I am being with myself.
I have continued working and creating almost non-stop throughout the panderabread, the deaths in my family, the living losses of break-ups and friendship changes, and the recurring crisis of my health. I am feeling the impacts of the non-stopness of everything more than I realized I would, less than I should thanks to several practices of rest and healing, and just as much as would be expected after what I have been through in the last five years alone.
I realize I have not been writing just to write, which is actually a necessity for me. lately I have not often felt replenished and rested enough to be vulnerable in my writing in the ways I prefer to be and have been practicing different boundaries. I am grateful for the new boundaries that protect my psychic space and I recognize that almost everything has been about work, which I am wildly fortunate to be able to take pleasure in and am acutely aware cannot continue. I am a writer before I am an astrologer and being a writer only comes after being a bruje. my medicine, my tool, my truth has always been my writing about real ass shit. I have heard reading my work can literally feel like a cellular restructure. that is the magic I must be true to.
so I choose to share parts of myself that don’t make me seem like a mystical papifemme, write things that don’t intend to sell anything, and aren’t sexily removed from the actual life I’m living. I have not historically felt shame or hesitation to do so, but lately I have been exploring what different gestures of my work being in the world feel like, such as being more mysterious so as to be safe, and I’ve tried some fits that don’t feel good. you may not see it but I feel it and I don’t like that shit. I’m not just here to be transparent, I’m here to be raw and there is a difference. this is just facts. I even feel myself wanting to say “not raw as in messy” so that no one who has internalized the shame of being alive will judge me (aka so I will not judge me) but fuck that. I am already a mess because that is the state of constantly creating, and I am brave about it. I’m never interested in confessionals but I do sin against myself sometimes and have to ask the Father I’ve become if I will forgive me. I continue to practice deeply embodying the answer to that question: yes.
I wrote this tonight as my time lord by sect light, Mercury, brought last minute messages from Their time in cancer/my 12th house before entering leo/my 1st house. I also got my first haircut in almost 2 years today and am about to roll up some Mother Mary for the first time in months.
consider me baptized and reborn…