Saturday, June 10, 2017

Yod(a) and the Pink Flamingo


I had a difficult night last night: the full moon in Sagittarius was highlighting my vulnerabilities and to explain them to someone else?... I didn't have the words for someone else. So I talked myself through the panic attack, filled many pages in my sketch book, and took St. Joan's Wort to calm or bank the fire within me and Osha for the reactions I was having, According to herbalist and Wise Woman Ways Susun Weed, "Osha root tincture has the amazing ability to stop anaphylactic shock and other nasty reactions to allergens and venoms. Because over-use and over-harvesting endanger this rather rare perennial plant, I use osha in tiny amounts (3-5 drops) and only in emergencies. A half- ounce bottle of osha root tincture ought to last a lifetime. (If you can only buy a whole ounce, share half with a friend.) " I used more than the 3-5 drops, and I'm here to write the tale. The pollens from grass are raging here, that on top of the already dastardly insistent Scotch Broom that is every where and in full bloom.

I am just back from a short adventure to the Farmers' Market. Donned with my face mask, and oxygen tank just in case, I went to check on buying some eggs from a local farmer who feeds her chickens Scratch and Peck, a no soy feed; I don't 'do soy' but love a tasty egg now and then. We discovered Scratch and Peck when we had our hens and know how good a tasty egg can be. 

"We'll have eggs next week," the farmer told me. "No signup lists for the eggs, that's just one more thing to keep track of and we don't seem to have much trouble selling them out. So ... try to get here early next week." Empowered with this small success of a venture, engaging in simple and meaningful conversation I bought the luscious bunch of White Salad Turnips that will go nicely with Italian chicken sausages for dinner tonight. 

My walk around the local market setup brought me to a friend's stall. We waved, and I came closer to chat. Pointing to my mask I said, "Pollen season." My farmer friend took it from there, "No kidding. The grasses are blooming. I'm good inside, but outside. The grass is tall and all over the place, and I con't mow it. It's tough to be a farmer with hay fever and this is our heaviest planting." Oh man, that really got me. The pollens, the hay fever is not just challenging me; I am not alone.

Pete is away for a long weekend with his family; for the first time in years we are two peas in separate pods. Several friends have sent me messages offering me help in whatever form I might need it. It's a comfort to to know that, and I've told them so. I kept my cellphone close as I weathered a dark night without Pete. Getting out today to hear the voices of my neighbors, the farmers and friends in my community, was a gift, It is important for me to unlearn the feeling of helplessness that can come with a panic attack. Life with Environmental Illness is not easy, but it is a mistake to believe life happens without mistakes and mishaps, or panic attacks; or that others don't share similar discomfort.

Old perceptions and rules that used to work aren't necessarily the best adaptations for today, or for the future. Three days and night alone, I test my resiliency and self-respect. I found this bit of astrology to amend my approach to navigating with my eye on the future. It comes from Satori Harris's Weekend Love Forecast --Make an Emotional Connection and Jump into Conversation (for June 9-11, 2017). Along with her prose was a photograph of something very pink approaching the shore. (It wasn't this very pink flamingo paddle boat, her photograph was taken by her daughter, but close enough. I recommend reading Satori's post in its original form.)

..."Start communicating and look for action options. New routes aren’t built overnight, but every day brings us closer if we take our daily steps. The mind is swirling with an abundance of ideas. Broadcast and cooperatively communicate. The senses are on point, and the course of events is unfolding beautifully! Saturday the Moon enters Capricorn, an opposition to Mars, and a trine to Venus. By date time it aspects Mercury in quincunx. Desire is definitely sparked, and action is the perfect counterpoint to a grounded mood and affect. Delicious. Put out feelers and inviting messages. Decide how to respond or gauge their response in real time. Don’t go with a canned answer. How do you feel? Express that. Then act on it. Rawr.
Pete called from the family reunion in Minneapolis and passed the phone around. I got to speak with and listen to three of the nieces. There were no canned answers (on either end) and the enthusiasm since we have not seen each other for a dozen years or more, was such a real delight. There were details and grounded affects to feel; real stuff to fill in the spaces. I feel included, and informed: one niece is mothering and relating to a sixteen year old daughter who is six feet tall and still growing; a second niece has just divorced her wife and is living with her first wife; the third niece, visiting from Hawaii Island has accepted her first full-time teaching job in a town with a Hawaiian name that rolls over my tongue -- Na'alehu,  like chilled liliko'i juice on a hot day. There was time for the give-and-take of "And what have you been up to?". These were cooperative conversations! After the reunion calls I sat to let the vibe sink it. And called my son; I needed the full family experience. I wanted to hear from him on this full moon weekend. I was not disappointed; the back and forthness kept up.
Saturday night into Sunday morning, the Moon squares Jupiter. It then heads into sextile with Neptune. If we don’t rush to judgement, things begin to come about in their own time. It feels right when we connect to a higher vision of our worth, and we can tell if we’re on the right path by how it feels.
Together the Moon and Neptune form a yod with Vesta in Leo. Feel for what is truly important, for what is authentically you, your most authentic self. Remember this feeling as a touchstone.
When I was going through the dark places alone in the night my vulnerabilities left me impatient for remedy; I sketched with my left hand making marks that I could turn from lines into a patterned face, a message, some meaning or an anchor. I was 'rushing to judgement' and relief not letting things come about in their own time; that's what a panic attack does. What I did not see in one of my sketches was the face of small almost duck-like creature with big ears. Yoda-san, legendary Jedi Master, hidden but present in my non-dominant hand renderings.

The yod, or Yoda signature, created with the Moon, Neptune and Vesta in Leo is the life jacket offered up to me in the early morning of Saturday, June 10, 2017. Living through the panic attack and fear or crisis I could not see the forest for the tress. After reading and then rereading Satori's Weekend Horoscope, the words and the image created that touchstone she refers to. 

In an earlier post on the asteroid Vesta, Satori has this to say about Vesta.
" ... Vesta in the chart, at its simplest, is where that deep energy is devoted to a higher purpose. In antiquity, Vestal Virgins tended the fire in the temple, and Vesta is associated with the hearth and the constant fire within. Because of this it is most straightforward to look at the Vesta position to note what a person holds sacred, the center of their fiery devotion, the hearth they tend and protect. Vesta shows where you are dedicated.The sign of Vesta will show the dynamism, the flavor of one’s devotion, while the house position will tend to outline the areas of life in which it is focused. A Cancer Vesta will strongly feature home, mother and feelings."
I do have a Cancer Vesta and home, mother and feelings are big for me.  
 The Moon then goes on to conjoin and cross over Juno and Pluto. Boom. That feeling sinks in deep. The touchstone is in you..."
What has happened to me happens often. I muddle through a dark place. There are lots of them in my world. Life isn't easy, but the tough magic of the fairy tale I live is made to hone my persistence. Not only is it important to resist what is not acceptable, it's the insisting to be present for the solution that makes it sweet honey in the rock. Thank you Dr. Bernice Johnson, founder of the fabulous Sweet Honey in the Rock.

I left a comment on Satori's post that sums up my experience with Yoda and the Pink Flamingo.

"Is that a pink flamingo on the horizon? ... Reading this again, with morning eyes after the full moon’s night. I think, I believe I see a pink flamingo approaching … and oh, I might like it (a lot) and, I used to think them gaudy parked in the neighbor’s front lawn. But … what if I am a living, breathing pink flamingo!?

What if I, see the emerging flaming pink flamingo self that is me after the dark night of the soul panic attack. What if the Yod(a) message for me is to unlearn any canned heat, or canned definition of devotion and value. Someone I trusted many years ago told me "A panic attack is a message that you're on the edge of something, something big and important to you deep inside. Something you try so hard to keep under wraps." 

Why ramble on so? Maybe this could help someone having a panic attack and prelude to the launch of their own flaming pink flamingo-self.

For an interesting description of the yod in astrology, Annie Hesse's article at Cafe Astrology.com is a good read.

If you need or want a refresher, or introduction to Yoda the legendary, go here, or here for some wonderful Yoda quotes.

Friday, June 2, 2017

Reflection

Just yesterday
One of my poems written during this sorting and preparing time; uncovering the bowl of stones left in my care ... realizing I had neglected them; made amends and turn the mistake into honey.

I did not know this was the practice.
Just yesterday I wrote my way through training manuals.
Paid well for content, but oh, no context.
I did not know this was my practice.
Just yesterday I re-read a rambling tale I wrote
Paid little for it, but oh, such context.
I know now my practice.
Just yesterday I wrote a story
Paid for in memories, but oh, much more.
I know my practice.
Just yesterday, he was a boy.
Today he is a man.


These hands

These are the hands that rummage
Like mice at their favorite
Pass-time 

These are the hands that are
Nicked in the work
That is legendary

These are the hands 
That have written
Boxes of tenderness

These are the hands that
Sort, categorize, push sturdy carts
Hold.



Golden-eyed 

Wild gone are the edges with weeds
Clustered, cluttered
They pester
The manicurist

Wild weeds and grasses
Tiny blue stars 
Golden-eyed
Whisper, forget-me-not


We are moving through the uncertainty of migration, only a few things are certain. We attend to them. The Moon is in her phases of 'ole, those times when new projects are best left for later; so we reflect and weed (or don't weed) and time travel backward more certainly than forward. Old papers, photographs, faces of younger versions of ourselves tempt me to judge the sagging skin, the fragile health, the toothless grins.

Life around us gives us ground to stand more firmly upon. The weeds have finally made their messages known to us, befriending time we learn: tincture the small white English one (daisy) for allergies and headache; Dandelion for its sap will help with the dark splotch on your cheek, pick the blossoms and swim them in vinegar for the belly, Nettles! good for so many conditions that pain us. Whispers from blue starred Forget-me-knows are straight talkers.

For awhile I honor the journey through the muddle and forgive myself in the morning after a night of fretting over the mistakes that mount on horseback. Threatening to stomp on my nest of brooding eggs like tundra caribou over plovers yet to be. Then, I remember Antonio Machado's poem about dreaming, mistakes and honeybees.


Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.- Antonio Machado