This new year, I have lots of new ideas for resolving, rebooting, rewiring, but first…FIRST..I’m going to try my darndest to just stop already and listen.
Slow Writing, Slow Looking
Sunshine, Yes, Even Now, and Also
Thinking on grief and giftS
Pic from a walk in the Stephenson Nature Preserve in South Austin. I found myself pausing occasionally to sit with a small rush of hope—something I wasn’t quite ready to trust—and feel its warmth and allow it to sink in.
In the wake of last night’s election and this morning’s results, I made black tea—like I always do—and pulled a card—like I always do. I was numb, and I forgot the tea was even there. It got cold. I microwaved it later. Sorry, purists.
I asked my deck, “Okay, so what now?” And I pulled Page of Swords.
Yep. That’s right. Okay.
Page of Swords is a fresh, brave, sometimes foolhardy energy that takes big swings and goes after their dreams, even when the world tells them they’re not quite ready. While I may not be able to dive into this energy just yet, it did get me thinking about what we as individuals—and particularly as writers and storytellers—have to give to each other and our communities. And also…how we might need to be brave, maybe even a little foolhardy, in sharing what we have with those who need it.
Terry Tempest Williams, one of my favorite creative nonfiction writers, and an author/artist many of you admire, had this to say in a social media post this morning….
“We will meet this moment with the gifts that are ours — and we will take care of each other — and not look away — This is not the end, nor the beginning, it is the truth of our lives…”
I’m intrigued by this idea of meeting the moment with the gifts that are ours. Page of Swords does not wait for perfection. They do not wait for a finely sharpened blade. They heed the call and start to swing. They meet the moment. Swords in the Tarot are clarifiers—they slice through the fog and cut to the truth. They wake us up when that fog feels too heavy and show us how to get back on the lit path.
I appreciate this hopeful charge. I also understand not being quite ready for it. I am also aware that if we wait until the timing feels perfect to share our gifts with community, we may be waiting forever.
Lately when I start to feel a rush of hope for something I want, and I’m too afraid or jaded to fully accept that hope, I rest a hand right above my heart, pat my chest and say, “Yes, yes, yes.”
It’s like I’m trying to seal the hope into my chest, let it sink in and take root.
I can be a fairly cynical moon-in-Scorpio kinda gal and I can get gloomy with the best of them, but right now I’m trying to recall the sunshine I witnessed on a recent walk, captured in the pic above, and how it felt to say “yes” to the warmest hope and pat my lil soul with affirmation, hand to the heart. Hope shifts and evolves—the need for hope changes with each day. So I am still patting my chest and saying, Yes. Here. Ready.
Guided Writing for Grief & Gifts
What is your internal weather like today? If it were a sky, how would you describe it? Write for a few minutes here, allowing yourself to say whatever the hell you want.
Imagine there is a source of gentle light—you may have already described it. What powers that source/sun/flame? Is it a person? A friend? A mentor? A collective? Write for a few minutes.
What are your gifts to give? List a few. Take your time.
What is the truest, realest gift of all that you would most like to share with your friends, community, and/or the world? Describe it. Take a few minutes.
Imagine walking down a path, hemmed in by dark branches. You can also write through the eyes of a character here. Imagine that you or they are moving slowly, steadily. There is a light up ahead. When you get to the light, you’ll find a clearing, and this clearing is a good place. Who and what are in the clearing? What did you bring to this space? What are you holding in your arms that is uniquely yours? Describe a welcome space filled with the people or things who fill your soul with affirmation. Take 10+ minutes to write.
