MOONRISE MUSING 107: The Winds Of Change....
Do you feel the winds of change sweeping through? As I write on this evening, it looks like a storm is brewing. The skies appear to be heavy and foreboding - on the edge of both climax and destruction.
I've noticed that this time of year - as the Sun closes out its time in Leo and prepares to enter Virgo - this type of weather is typical in London. We don't really get hurricanes as notable as the ones on the eastern seaboard of the US, the Caribbean islands, and the gulf of Mexico, but we definitely seem to traverse through our own unique corridor of storm activity in late August thru September.
I love the power of storms. They can be simultaneously tittilating and terrible to behold. They are raw Scorpio energy - erotic, dark, exciting, and scary all at once. Storms often destroy in a hurry, for the purpose of sped up renewal - like a bandage being ripped from a wound that needs exposure to heal. If quick change is what you desire, embrace the true beauty of the storm.
Everywhere I look around right now I see swift and sudden change. Maybe it's feedback from my own holograph showing me that I'm on the cusp of a great breakthrough, but I don't feel like I'm alone in this feedback messaging. And this year...it feels all the more true.
Another hallmark of this time of year in my area is a large influx of moving and storage vans. As I walk through my neighbourhood streets in late August, there are always so many slogans and messages about leaving and moving on. I see families packing up the contents of their lives in preparation to pick up somewhere else. And I often wondered what it felt like to live with that choice and ability to leave and move on.
Four Augusts and Septembers have passed me by where I have felt like a goldfish in a tank - watching humans go places that life in my bowl would never allow for me to entreat; dreaming of a Summer when I might at last be let out of my quarantined life.
As some of you know, I have been embroiled in a three plus year immigration battle to get my residency back in the UK - after losing it for being away too long when I returned to the States in my early twenties and got married. In that almost four year process, I have been without access to my and my children's passports. I would watch people all around me progressing, while my life was stuck and on hold - in ways that far surpassed the lack of a passport.
And this year - 8 months on from receiving our UK right to remain decision, and with new and updated passports in hand - I feel dread at this reminder that big change is on the horizon. And this is because I have lived my whole life with this persistent story of being the one left behind.
And I didn't fully realise until recently, how recurrent this theme has been in my life. I was always the one left behind, or to be given someone else's sloppy seconds...and I was expected to be grateful for scraps, as others all around me dined on steak.
This pattern was literally imprinted upon me in childhood, and I noticed how my timelines hold echoes, repetitions and amplifications of these stories and themes. I won't go into the details and the stories of how this came to transpire...because that is of my old life. I have closed the doors on those "please sir, can I have some more" timelines. I just never realised how pervasive that story was in my life, and how gravely it affected me...until today.
For once in my life, I am actually feeling like I have a way to leave and move on. The plans and means to do so have not arrived in the physical, but everything else is showing me that I'm entering seasons where I no longer will be left behind.
So as the winds whip, and moving trucks are filled, an old familiar anxiety rises up in me because even though my circumstances are changing...my body remembers. My heart remembers. My soul remembers. And the grief of those times is sometimes too much for me to hold alone.
So, it might take a few more Augusts to fully let go of that dread and deep feeling of rejection. It might take a few more Septembers to believe that I'm no longer living in timelines where I am persistently left behind.
And maybe tonight - as the clouds get heavier - I can surrender my heaviness to the transformational genius of the storm. And maybe tomorrow - when I see more moving vans making their rounds in my neighbourhod, my hope will have been renewed through the storm. Maybe.
Asé
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