The Winds of Oyá Blowing

I haven't been able to post as much as I've wanted to of late. I think about it every day and between teaching, managing, parenting, and doing many (wonderful) readings for (lovely) clients, I never have the time or the energy. But I'm making space tonight, to release some of this energy. Throughout the month of October much movement was taking place. I started to see 333 everywhere, and it's the first time I've ever noticed numbers like that, and felt its significance. Eventually I came to feel that it was an acknowledgement that I was in good (spirit) company, and I felt that attention quite pointedly. It was comforting.

I've already written about the crazy happenings with our car so I won't recount it, but I was both aware of struggle, and aware that there was something more transpiring. In those moments where the challenge of the moment felt sharpest, I kept this mind, and placed my faith in what I couldn't see, but what I knew was there nonetheless. I pulled a lot of 10 of Swords, but one of my more memorable draws was during the Shadow Work October challenge where I pulled Obatala, Elegua, and Oyá from my New Orleans Voodoo deck. It was a powerful line for me: my father, my best friend, and the sacred presence of Oyá; the shifts and transitions she brings along with her. 10 of Swords, Oyá.... the car died, my egun, Elegua, always Eshu-Elegua, 333 and 33.... so many things sifting through my mind.....

Oyá is called the "owner of the marketplace" and the "owner of the gates of the cemetery." These are often treated as literal, and they can be taken as such, but they are metaphorical first and foremost. Oyá is owner of change. The marketplace is Earth. The market is where we engage others, we barter for what we need, we pay and are paid, we argue and laugh, we learn about the affairs of others, we sing, we eat. We live. The "marketplace" is simply another word for the world in which we live, where constant change, upturns and downturns, is the way. There is a saying, "The world is a marketplace; our real home is the spirit world." Oyá is not the owner of the cemetery itself, rather the passage - the doorway - the portal between the marketplace and the spirit world. The cemetery is a physical place. But she ushers us from an old way of life into a new, encouraging us to let go, to shed our skins, and thus she governs the process of transformation of which death is a part.

Oyá's winds tell us that it is time to leave; to leave what we are used to, what wasn't working, to pack our bags and get ready to go. She helps us to peel away our old selves, she gives the courage and strength to burn down and rebuild, always better than before, always more than we could have ever really understood. She gives us the gift of change, a gift always meant to bless us when all is said and done.

In so many ways my life has changed in the last month alone. I've been scared, sad, anxious, speechless, furious, determined, worried. I've been grateful, moved, touched, thankful, speechless (again), honored, humbled, in awe, triumphant. My life has utterly changed. The reality I see as I look out from these eyes is not the same as it was a month ago. I have possibilities now that I never imagined. There is newness in my life that I didn't anticipate and could not have imagined.

I have learned a lot. And I realize that I'm somewhat inarticulate here; I am forming these words with the last dregs of today's energy, but it's been over a week that this has been calling for release. Hope and faith are everything. Trust is so important. To stay positive, even when the outlook appears dark, is the only way. It's not easy, but it's the only way.

Maferefun Yansa, maferefun todos los días.

The Illusion of Permanence

I was walking near the shores of Secret Lake yesterday morning when I noticed a rather large ant mound rising up out of the grass and beginning to spill out onto the sidewalk. It was so complete, so busy, that I had to stop for a moment to appreciate the work. Between a smattering of tiny holes, red ants scurried with clear purpose, some carrying what appeared to be tiny larva. It was an active community of living beings that had spent countless hours, perhaps days, on the creation of their sandy home.

And in that moment I realized how terribly precarious it all was. One child mesmerized by the movement could, with a single excited swipe, destroy it completely. Or perhaps someone riding a bike, or a heavy rain storm, or even a park maintenance person out mowing the lawn. Any of these things could, in an instant, erase this ant town from the surface of the earth (temporarily though it be). And in fact it most certainly would happen.

But the cool thing about ants is that when the fruits of their endless labor are washed away, they will simply rebuild. Which got me to thinking about fluctuation and the impermanence of life. There are many cards in a Tarot deck that can point to instability and change. Some of the obvious cards include Death and the Tower. Some others include the Wheel, the 4 of Wands reversed (I call this the 'transition' card), and even the 8 of Cups.

Last week I pulled a card from my Viking Cards deck in a moment when I was feeling a bit oppressed by the movement in my life. I believe my actual question was: "What is happening to me?"  The card I drew was Sleipnir: Changes.

Viking Cards
U.S. Games Systems, 1997

I think I actually laughed out loud when I saw it, and said, "Yep!!!" What I found most helpful about this card was the correlation to Odin's mystical, 8-legged horse, Sleipnir, who is often described in the Sagas as being the wind that Odin rides to other dimensions. I love that concept. The book, written by Gudrun Bergmann, states:

"The Changes may be like the strong summer winds that blow across Iceland's interior and stir up a lot of dust, so that even the Sun is overshadowed and one cannot see clearly. But such winds also subside. Sleipnir tells you not to fight the changes, but to jump on his back and ride the winds of Change (pg. 88)."

There is something particularly revitalizing about the idea of jumping onto Sleipnir's back and riding forth into the great unknown; change abounds, but you're never without excellent company. Like the ants' intricate hills, like Tibetan Sand Mandalas, or Navajo sand paintings, changes are necessary, inevitable, and learning to embrace the movement is both empowering and healing.

5 of Water on the Last Day of School

My oldest daughter is transitioning from middle school to high school, and today is her last day of 8th grade. While she's extremely excited about being "in the big leagues" she's understandably bittersweet about leaving an entire school and social structure behind. She was giggling and dancing around the kitchen last night, noticeably anxious, and she said rather off-handedly, "Mom, do a reading for me about tomorrow!" I couldn't in that moment, but this morning I agreed to pull a card for her. Each time we ask her how she feels, and if she's sad, she says, "Well I'm really excited for next year!! But I am gonna miss my friends and teachers!" We remind her that she can see her friends over the summer, and encourage her to copy down phone numbers so they can make plans to see each other. Some of these friends will go to her new high school, but not everyone (including her big 8th grade crush, which she's particularly upset about).  So I shuffled my new Gaian Tarot, and as I went to select her card, I had one of those moments where you just *know* what the card is even before you turn it over:

5 of Water - Gaian Tarot
Joanna Powell Colbert

My daughter had wandered off down the hall, so I called to her to let her know I'd finished her draw. I showed her the card and she said "Oh my god, that's me!!" And I said "Yes - I asked 'how does Isa feel about her last day of school?' and this is what came up. Kinda perfect, don't you think?" She agreed. And moments like this are some of those that highlight how deeply grateful I am to be a card reader, because sometimes all you need is confirmation of how you're really feeling - the permission to be bummed out without being apologetic for it, or minimizing it. She smiled and we chatted a bit about her thoughts, and then she ran off to get ready for school.

This version of the 5 of Cups, or 5 of Water, is one of my favorites of all time because it's so real. There is no real symbolism in this card, apart from the gray skies. The young woman gazes across the lake or bay, solemn and withdrawn. She's holding a hot mug of steaming tea, and really sitting with - experiencing - her melancholy. We've all been there at some point or another. We don't need to see the three spilt cups to get the idea that there's sadness here, nor do we need to see two cups standing in order to understand that this feeling won't last forever. And rather than putting a silver lining on the sense of mourning by reminding ourselves that "this too shall pass," it's nice to be allowed to honor that "space," even if only for a moment.

So I wish my daughter a wonderful, comforting last day of middle school, full of hugs, laughter, and friends' numbers. May she find strength in letting go, and joy in the road ahead!

Crow's Easter Message

Today's Easter, an overcast, cool morning. The kids are slightly hung-over on a dawn feast of far too much candy, and I'm on my second cup of coffee. Later this afternoon we'll have an egg hunt, with the little ones wading through purple wildflowers in the back yard in search of one of their magical, painted masterpieces created the day before in anticipation of this annual event.

I participated in the Ostara blog hop several weeks ago which focused on rebirth as a theme. This year Ostara and Easter, due to the transient lunar calendar, fall at some distance from each other, so once again I find myself considering death, resurrection, and the ever-spiraling cycle of life. These are universal truths that accompany us always. We tend to think of them in terms of major life events - death, divorce, house moves, births of children, leaving an old job for a new career or educational path, major work transfers that include an overseas relocation, and on and on and on.

In truth, death and rebirth are constants, and on a minute scale we are always experiencing them….when you learn something new about an important person in your life, when you mull something over and make a decision, when your plans change and you adjust to your new course, when new information or a sudden whim cause you to change your mind about an idea, belief or behavior - shifts in perspective. In these smaller contexts death takes the form of transition, the change inherent in life, the momentum that keeps our universe in flux. Without movement things stagnate - we thrive on change, even if it's hard to embrace at times - this is requisite for growth.

Today, in honor of change, transition, death and rebirth, I pulled a card from my Medicine Cards, asking for insights into what new era is unfurling for me now. I know that change is happening in my life, in some ways both big and small. I feel it trembling around me, the earthly manifestation of the 2 of Disks. The card I pulled was Crow.

Medicine Cards - J. Sams, D. Carson

The first thought I had when I turned the card over was: change. Right on cue! On page 134 of the book, it says, "Crow is an omen of change. Crow lives in the void and has no sense of time. The Ancient Chiefs tell us that Crow sees simultaneously the three fates - past, present and future. Crow merges light and darkness, seeing both inner and outer reality."

It goes on to say, on page 135: "Be willing to walk your talk, speak your truth, know your life's mission, and balance past, present, and future in the now. Shape shift that old reality and become your future self. Allow the bending of physical laws to aid in creating the shape shifted world of peace."

Sigh. It's a profound energy, so vital and pertinent to this moment, and yet not without some degree of pain - like all change. The Crow on the card peers at its own reflection, looking deeply within, facing truth with honesty, embracing - and really embodying - sacred Death.

As I move through my Easter Sunday, I'll hold these thoughts within me, pondering, processing, and reflecting on how Death, transition and truth are impacting me at this moment - somehow a perfect match to the energies being cradled and nurtured and honored across the globe on this holy-day.