Today was not only the day of the new moon, but also a full solar eclipse. I was feeling it even before I rose this morning, with a busy night of dreaming. My dreaminess persisted, to the point I changed some plans this afternoon to get me off the road.*
Yet there’s no doubt in my being that the divine has quite a sense of humor. This morning as I was dreamily brushing my teeth, I saw an angel in the design of my faucet in much the same way I’ll see critters in the clouds or entire sagas illustrated in the apparently random swirls of a floor tile.
Still chuckling over my angelic faucet, I headed to the car, picking up yesterday’s mail on the way. The mail included a postcard announcement that the Underworld had moved to a new location. I laughed out loud. Of course I’d hear about it on the day the moon was due to occlude the light of the sun. What better time for Hades to shift the realm of the dead? Sure, the postcard indicated the store is called Ginny’s Underworld, and that they sell bras, but I know a god wink when I see one.
*Huh. As I type this, I remember my post on last month’s lunar eclipse, when I had much the same dreamy experience of driving under the influence.
Photo credit: kissyface
As I develop my intuition, I’m sometimes left wondering about the road not taken. For example, this weekend, I spent a significant amount of time with someone whose word choices betray a need to catalog and judge others. I spent very little energy calling her on it, though I have repeatedly done so in the past. This time, my intuition told me to save my breath. Was it because I need that strength for my own, currently very demanding, internal process? Or perhaps she needs to hear it from someone besides me. Or none of the above.
All I know is that being around it all the time wore me out and left me feeling sad for her.
Me and goals have long been uneasy companions. I suspect there are many reasons for this. Fear of failure, certainly. But also, I have a history of meeting a goal and immediately devaluing its importance. After all, if I met it, it couldn’t have been a big deal, right?
My June goal: to post daily to this blog, or at least create 30 posts in 30 days. My results? Thirty-ONE posts. I trumped by goal by a full blog post.
Those of you who average 30 posts or more per month, I salute you. Now I know what it feels like to be tired and looking at the clock and searching the corners of an uncooperative brain for material. And yet, wow. Stretching felt good. Succeeding felt good.
I intend to celebrate. How? Two things.
One. Take the holiday weekend off, then resume posting on a regular but less intense schedule. I’m shooting for Wednesdays and weekends, starting next Wednesday.
Two. Setting a new goal! My July goal: to get hosting for my website and port this blog over to it. I’ll post details as they occur.
How do you celebrate meeting your goals? Do you throw yourself mad parties, strewn with confetti, belly laughs and karaoke? Or are you stingy with yourself, saying, that’s all well and fine, but you can do better.
I’ve tried the latter. I say we all give the former a try.
Photo credit: bfick
This morning, I was skimming along the surface of the earth when I went off the edge of a cliff. At first, I panicked, seeing water and shoreline below, both coming up much too fast. But in my dreams, I can fly, I remembered. Why not try that here?
So I did. To my delight, I began gaining altitude. Then too much altitude! I realized I was clutching a big fluffy pillow to my chest and decided to use it as a boogie board as I allowed myself to drift down… down.
An angel was flying below me, keeping an eye on things on earth. He had short, curly blond hair. It gave him a start to see me at first, then he smiled and offered me one of the two frappuccinos he held. I accepted, choosing not to mention it was almost gone. The last couple sips were yummy. I clutched my pillow and experimented with a slow roll. Fun.
I might still be flying now, but for a hungry cat bouncing up and down on the bed, asking for breakfast. Thanks for the frappuccino, angel!
Photo Credit: Y
I’ve got a new story percolating. I’m not yet dedicating lots of time to it, but this week, my characters have been whispering to me their secrets. Today, the shaman told me a whopper.
They say an amazing number of criminals are caught after the fact, not due to a trail of damning evidence, but because they told someone what they’d done. Perhaps we’re not built to hold our secrets indefinitely. Perhaps we can’t.
Photo credit: Robert Thivierge
My relationship with my tarot deck is coming along. Several times this month, when stumped for a blog topic, I’ve gone to it for inspiration. Cards now present themselves without much coaxing, falling or leaping from the deck.
Taking such an free-form approach to tarot is new for me. I tried to go a more studied route, but kept getting hung up trying to memorize meanings. Memorization has never been my long suit.
Now I look at however many cards present themselves, and let myself free associate based on the imagery, often aloud. Only then will I read what the book has to say about their meaning. My intuitive interpretations are usually darned close to what the book says.
What a wonderful tool for learning to trust my intuition.