anitalorrainemoore

Musician devoted to Justice, Creativity, and Courage


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We are more than just mountains and clouds

We are more than just mountains and clouds
we are destined for loftier things
we are the star children of our ancestors’ dreams
My ancestors’ progeny led to me and I release the cords of oppression
and embrace the web of collective liberation
A rocking boat in a tidal wave of ideas
realizations and undeniable truths
We find ourselves knocking on Poseiden’s door and find him,
but he is not him
he is they
they are water
and like water, they flow through our fingers
cleanse our binary mold
etching away at its bindings
generation after generation
We give thanks for that powerful, gentle, water of life
Although I understand that it took a long time to arrive at now
every ghost and shadow who stands between us
I now release and call in
the clarity of justice
the freedom of music
I rest upon the souls who came before
and I activate those who come after.

This poem was inspired by a photo by @nature.esthete on Insta

Find Joshua Adam Photography, he’s rad.

And now for a life update! Who would have thought we would experience a pandemic? I know I didn’t see it coming, but it was one of my many epic fears since seeing the horror drama “28 Days Later” – in fact, I think that was the cutoff for me watching scary movies.

So many people have lost many precious loved ones and things during this time. My heart aches for all of it. Like many, this time has been rife with depression, increased anxiety and even hopelessness on days where the news was too much. Lighting candles almost daily for the dead and the sick, saying prayers of protection for the rest of us (I remained symptom and virus free thankfully.) and had to go about my business. Luckily, as a teacher, I could easily transfer my classes online. It took about 3x the effort and 3x the necessary understanding because I teach high-school students who are transferring to the college early, all the way to retirees who are looking for new jobs. Community colleges are awesome for diversity of experience and identity. Parents, helping their children learn from home and THEN having to sit and do their own online classes… I just can’t even imagine. How lucky and privileged I am – I couldn’t feel more compelled to give and to be of service.

THAT was the end of the Spring semester last year. The sudden transition was enormous, but we made it work somehow. For some, it didn’t work at all. Some gave up on school. Some thrived without having to be constrained by a classroom schedule. Some ached for the classroom and suffered without person to person instruction. I thrived only because I’d been doing remote teaching and training for 10 years prior. Some teachers did not have it so easy – the learning curve was short. I found my groove and life went on. I lost two of my dearest mother figures last year. Tuesday was Amy’s birthday. Mary Jane passed before the pandemic hit the United States. I hold them in my heart and try to ask them for Spirit advice in moments when I feel weak and confused. Reflecting on all of this is overwhelming, but, I turned in my grades Wednesday for the Spring semester of this year. While the next summer semesters will continue to be online (enrollment was down so I don’t actually teach a class the first 1/2 of the Summer – that is not so good for my pocketbook, but good for my time to create and make art and goodies.), I will begin teaching in the classroom again in the Fall. Autumn will be ripe with new beginnings, we hope, and I will get to see my students’ faces again. That will be awesome af.

So, speaking of making things, the pandemic gave me some inspiration to begin a new side hustle. Resilience Apothecary and Justice Lovers’ Tarot. I’ve been doing tarot readings professionally for a few years now (been reading since I was 16) and decided to make my personal growth and trauma work into a whole medicine cabinet of goodies. The Resilience Apothecary started because my friend Alfie said she’d buy my Florida Water if I sold it at the Freehand Market in Saxapahaw. I started to make some and bottle it and that led to many other botanical magicks. I made some divine smelling hand sanitizer and little travel sized Florida waters! Soon, I will begin making medicine bottles of hand-made local wild flower essences. I’m making sets of them to attune to each chakra into balance. The subtle vibrational energies of emotional dis-ease we experience can be assisted by working with the flower’s energetic imprint on Spring water. It is then preserved with white brandy. I’m super stoked and designing the labels now.

In the next week, I’ll be offering 15-20$ readings for friends and family to build up the tarot business aspect of Resilience Apothecary. Truly, this stuff feeds my soul and while I used to feel much shame around my spiritualism (I never talked about it with anyone because of past experiences of ridicule, judgement, and teasing.), I do not feel shame any longer. I give myself permission to follow a path that makes me happy. This work is not work; it makes me jovial, creatively inspired and satisfied. I love the feeling of making something that tickles and embraces the senses.

If you’re interested, I’ll be having the grand opening of my Etsy store soon where you can purchase the goods and even schedule tarot readings all in once place. ❤

I’m heading off for now! I have two deadlines passed which need attending to. I’m writing content for W.I.L.D. Magazine – you can subscribe here!

I’m also writing my last report of the year for Democracy Matters. The students made it through the pandemic, keeping their. chapters intact and some even built new chapters. Online organizing became easier in some ways and more difficult in others. Social media took off, but attendance and participation in meetings dwindled. We are ALL looking forward to getting back on campus in the Fall. Follow DM on instagram!

TATA ForNow! TTFN in text speak. or TTYL. WTF is TXT SPK? It’s the shortening of the English language, disturbing in ways I can’t decribe. (As a teacher who has to read papers written by Siri dictation, spell check is a long-forgotten memory and punctuation is now in the form of hashtags and … goddess I could go on, but will refrain.). Until we meet again, “I’ll talk to ya when I’m supposed to!”

Love and yours,
ALM

Hand-painted loose burning herbs label and jar. ❤


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Beginnings

I awoke

always first, sustenance to the little loved one

next a quiet moment

stillness

She purrs in contentment

coffee glides down like liquid love

Thanks be to time

which gifted these moments

Findings and workings of history

gave us right now

Grateful

Breathing

Morning sentiments

original artwork – watercolor – hands of time cradling a burning love


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Alone in my thoughts without you

Alone in my thoughts

without you

The river rose above its banks

as the rain in the night passed by

prints from night animals

and driftwood

still fresh where they lie

I remembered Your enchanting smile

and mountainous heart

distant

memories to me now

The black-capped chickadee and cardinal

as captivating to me

as fire to a cold wanderer

My heart warms with the thought of you

And I move on

Like you did

Like the still raging river


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TuesDay News-day, special edition. Invisible Winds: Poem for greiving the unknown losses of the times and praying for barometers

Some thing is hitting me hard. I can’t even see it. 1000 lightning strikes in my fingertips; 1000 floods in my heart.

Something has been buried, but I never got to go to the funeral. 1000 memories stuffed in synapses in my mind. 1000 miles I would have walked if I’d known I’d get to say goodbye.

Something inside is throbbing, not just the daily aches and pains, remorse and regret, creeping feelings. Thousands of them, swimming, then nothing’s left.

Something needs to be felt, not figured out. 1000 changes, 1000 wind chimes to signal when it changes direction.

Feeling the need to retreat and unplug. Craving more disconnect? Doesn’t seem real.
Praying for my grandparents’ upcoming ordeal, MM is having surgery. She fell and broke her wrist and PP is struggling to be present in his own hard-of-hearing world. I pray for our loved ones who are hurting.
Better days when we could play outside, our dear friend is experiencing cancer and I pray for him and his dear partner.
Up close and questioning…
Covid? Well yeah, it is.


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A grim fairytale of the Tower, late night poetry

Wrote a poem list night from a bad dream, inspired by the tower card. It’s kind of a magical, dark fairytale about trauma responses, in our most vulnerable relationships.

They’ll say she’s crazy,
For predicting the truth
That they all, deep down inside
Have the power to drop the other shoe

A whispers trace away
Only unknowns save the day
One can never tell
What moment it was
When she cast her own spell

It is madness
Born of a caged child’s tears
A feared tower built so high
She throws herself from it
Every few years

Each time it gets steeper
The price ever taller
The depth of this child’s fears
The moat grows deeper

What is this curse
of cunning she prays
She was only a girl,
had no choice but to stay

As one man betrayed
Mother looked away
As one man betrayed
Time pierced her Spirit barricade

Now with every tick
Of a clock no one sees
The awaited bomb deafens
Scoured by her company

Darkness lives within
Only the broken can satisfy her brokenness
Calling out, abandoned dogs,
Knowing she will someday free them

She will hold and coddle their egos
until they’ve had their fill
Then they run scared,
after her doubts crack their seals

“Why”, she silently moans,
“Why can I not look away
Why is it only this curse is my lot,
I am a Magnet to the highway.”

Because memory is all you know,
You cannot hold what does not hurt
You cannot know the solid
They feel that you yearn
For deeper seas
For sadder pain
For the rush of fury
For the pouring rain

Step down tonight
Lay down this dream
Carry me home, to the sky, dark Moon,
To my Queen.

My teacher card, the Tower
Language of Letting Go: Melody Beattie


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Greet The Dawn, Foster The Wild

The dawn greeted our hermit

Cool it was

Wind swam through the thorny vines

Dewey shrubs

and tall tree shadow lines

I dreamed of the absentee’s return

The whisper of the path which led to me

The window held my vision

As my eyes drifted

No explanations

Sand crept into my shoes this morning

On my trek away from isolation

In the dark

The Star illuminated

My lessons

Though still dim, they tasted

Of potent potions, salt, fantasy oceans

The chapter I began today

Spoke of caution, beware

Of self-neglect – dear hermit –

Let that light be your guide

Sacred compass

I am the gift to which I bestow

To you my love

Feeding your inner glow

Only when you re-member

Stitch back

The missing pieces

Can affirmations be upheld

Rejoiced, embodied

Love increases and releases

Bless you my sprite,

Rebellious child

I’ll hold you in the dark

The light

And foster you

Wild.

The Hermit Tarot card, number IX – (9) ~Modern Witch Tarot Deck, by Lisa Sterle~