I turn 42 today, on eclipse day, and it has been a strange year leading to this moment. Some practitioners who work with Tarot use…
I have been avoiding this.
I keep avoiding this—the blog, writing Internet things, self-expression. Partially it’s because my writing energy has gone toward other projects. The book I am working…
Variation on a Theme by Marianne Williamson
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our…
Neptune Square
It’s like spending your entire life on a mountain, only there’s no nice professionally graded pathway dug in for you, it’s mostly a cliff wall…
Giving it 60%
This has not been an easy month. Not the worst month ever, and nothing I need to share publicly, but my body went through some…
The serpents of our lesser nature.
“The serpent is thus venomous and medicinal. It kills and it heals. On its belly, it crawls on the surface of the earth engaged in the survival necessary for all animals with cunning and wisdom. Put on a pole and lifted up, it becomes a medicine, as in the staff of Asclepius. This is a common religious practice that shows up in all kinds of traditions: the figure who causes suffering turned into the protector against, and healer of, that suffering. Who better”
Running toward and away from connection.
When I think of belonging, it is like two dogs tied together wanting to run in opposite directions. One dog wants so desperately to belong…
Words get in the way.
Before the pandemic, I had my first ritual psychedelic experiences in a shared, facilitated space. That first experience was intriguing—I had the sense of being…
An Inventory of Dead and Living Language
“Lately I have been taking inventory of my beliefs, my ideals, and my guiding philosophies. One focus of reflection is language that once felt vital and inspiring but now feels dead, or at least murky. Words like “health,” “liberation,” and “manifestation,” once felt so vibrant. After years of repetition, mission creep, and marketing campaigns, I no longer know what they mean to me.
All of these leaves grow from a living tree, and my hope is to find the vitality at the source of the tree. At times I doubt there is a tree at all. At other times, I feel the tree with such vitality and urgency that it sends me back out into the world fighting and laughing. But I can confuse the leaves with the tree, which becomes problematic when the leaves grow dry. Are they shriveled dry leaves ready to be shed, or are they simply needing more light and water to be renewed?”