I recorded the first episode of the podcast today. So excited! Sharing the medicine cabinet for spirit; sharing tools for self-care, justice, rebellion and recovery through mediums like tarot, art and mental health practices.
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Honoring Pause from Urgency
Tick…. tock….. tock of the clock, the bells, chiming along inside my urgency, latency, where I dwell, there are old wounds now to dispel.
The bells sing a discernible, yet obscure, song. Normalcy impossible, so much lost, species extinct and the virus… prolonged.
Breath in the air, humid Summer approaching. She comes as she’s called, without summons, without speaking. A tiny creature inside beats a drum without patience, signaling change, a drip, a salience.
So many irons in so many fires, my hearth is full The breeze ushers me Westward, a few miles and storms Lie between this meadow and that one, I feel the pull Yes, grass is greener where the grey fox runs and wild bees swarm
I carry with me a satchel of mystic notions The holster of privileged motion The stowaway, grieving, choosing new potions What was real is gone with yesterday, a new truth, hinging on veracious devotion.
Allegiance to soil, the trees, the water playful smiles, inherited wisdom and daughters Gathering the flowers like the maker gathers supplies Honoring the magic of justice, acceptance and thick thighs.
We tread a new path, regeneration, wholesome good drink in rainwater, carry it, build fires, chop wood. Uphold your neighbor, sanctity for the distressed. In this tide, this time, ingress of a woman, to profess
The mighty stars will hold you as the robin sings the solid ground will lift you as the roots of trees spring out of the ground, created by time and bless your soul, as the gathering bells chime.
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 card readings since I was 16 (professionally since 2019) 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 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!”
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.
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 TowerLanguage of Letting Go: Melody Beattie
anita lorraine moore 