no planting today

The temperature reached 110F in the sun in the garden. Which is about 20 degrees above my comfort level. I did plan some, and plan to plan more.

Huge movement behind the scenes in my spiritual/psychic life. Hard to talk about. I'm learning to carry very large energies, and I realize that I have to be physically stronger to carry them well.

That's all she wrote tonight. :)

Night and longing

..and I hunger again for the ocean. Until I started writing this series of posts, I had no idea that these images, these sensations, were so deeply embedded.

Now I see the stars above the ocean, off the home beach, very late at night. Before midnight. Shining, even a glimmer off the water. The endless wind is blowing, and the palm tree branches are all pointing towards the mountain range. Everything seems very far away. It's noisy and quiet at the same time.

I need to go see the Pacific. I have no idea how I'll make this happen: we're just not in a position to travel so far. And although all ocean is one ocean, the Atlantic is just not the same. Even the smell is different.

I throw this out, then, to the notobject, to the Field, to the great forces: I need to go home. Or at least to California, to walk on the beach and talk to Mama Pacific.

what do you need to hear tonight?

Do you need to hear that it will get better? It will. Pain comes and goes; just ride the waves: don't focus on the pain. Think of yourself as a surfer: you're sitting on your board, and waves are moving up and down beneath you.

Do you need to hear about clarity? It will come again. You'll be doing what you do best, and you will be challenging yourself. The fog rolls in over the ocean; you think you're lost. But fog burns off (it always happens). And you'll look around yourself and you will see where you are.

Do you need to hear about solace? It will be here; it may already be right in front of you. Obscured by the fog and the rain, or by too much light off the water: you will see it, and reach for it.

Or it will touch you, gently, when you least expect it. Softly, easily. No pressure, but a sudden comfort.


Surrender to the ocean. Surrender to the movement of life through you. Surrender to each moment.

A bit confused tonight....

..with the rains moving in and out (hail! yesterday and today! in April, Goddess help us), and strong winds blowing through, there is no solidity, no root going down deep into the earth. It's a time of deep movement, of realignment. The moon turns Friday, and we're going back up along the spiral, adjusting and adjusting, until we come to our next place of rest.

Ask yourself: am I where I want to be? or, if not quite, am I moving in the right direction? Am I surfing the flow, or am I swimming into the waves? Am I out of my depth? or does it feel right, what's down below me?

Think in terms of water. Think about the flow, and where it seems to be heading. Feel it through. Use all of your senses, as well as your internal compass. This turn is one of the most important of the year. You can adjust your direction; you can take that surfboard of yours over to another set of waves. You have choice; you have your will.

Be free in the waters, my dears.

My friend is right

...we are all sea creatures. We can up from it, and our bodies are mostly water. I don't know the details, but our blood's saltiness is very similar to that of sea water.

I grew up on the ocean. My second childhood home was right on the beach. Some mornings the family would get up really early and go swimming. I remember as an older child going swimming during storms -- yes, young and dumb -- yet it was thrilling and delighful; the pattern of the waves was choppier than usual, and body-surfing was a different challenge. And it was water everywhere: water coming down, water underneath: a feeling of opening wings, and flying.

After a very rough morning..........

I seem to have reached some stability tonight. Thank the nonobject.

Today I'm actually grateful for the stupid rain. I can feel how the plants are just absorbing the water. The lone tulip will blow open again tomorrow afternoon and be waiting for me when I come home.

Somehow tonight I feel like I'm in my solitary boat in the ocean, seeing the shore from a great distance. I'm not a sea creature -- I belong on land. I need to walk the streets of cities, and up the paths of woods. I can sit quite happily on the beach and wave to them out on boats. There's a sense of bobbing up and down, not comfortable, but obscurely something I need to learn. I'm out here for a reason (there's always a reason). Perhaps I need to learn to read the seaweed? or the waveforms? Or commune with the stars -- second-best place to see them, on the ocean at night: utter best, to me, is in the mountains. UP as high as possible.

Yes, now here is peace for me: the stars at night.

Starting to rain

and I'm grieving, too. Little lost tears from nowhere.

DD and I did some garden work today, taking out dandelions with the magnificent Garden Claw. We're going to dry the roots and use them for tea. Since there's been no poison used ever in the garden (except on the patio for the weeds), these roots will be very nourishing come fall.

We've still planted nothing. I'm going to have to get my herbs from Whole Wallet, since there's no way I'll make it out to DeBaggio Herbs in deepest Virginia in time. I still want to get my tomato plants from them; so many kinds it's both dizzying and delightful.

I'm looking forward to a productive week at work. Finally managing my own line, Quantum Herbs. I love the products so it will be fun to get to know the line.

And this is the week I make my cards: psychic and healer cards. To distribute wherever. I need, for my ownself, to be out there more.

Do your breathing, my dears, and I'll be back tomorrow.