Misrule

Welcome to the dark side ...

We call this tree The Phoenix. It’s not always pretty to rise from the ashes.

Reinventing the self is hard work.

I’ve done it a few times. I should be used to it, but … it always kicks my ass - fortunately it is usually in a really good way.

I’m not going for a full renovation this time, just a slight shift into something that feels a little better. I don’t quite know what that is yet, but I’m working on it. I suspect it will be a winter-long process, snow is gonna have to fall, shit’s gonna have to freeze, there need to be long, silent nights filled with ice and dreaming for this to happen. And honestly, what better time to embark on this journey than right fucking now?

I got a dynamite Tarot reading from a very talented reader on the Vernal Equinox. It was all about answering the question, “What do I want?” And it all came back to that question, no matter what area of my life we looked at. What do I want? And my answer right now is, I’m fucked if I know. I’ve always done the next thing that needed doing, and even through all the self-care and the work on my physical well-being, all the learning, ramping up of metaphysical skills and eldritch abilities (there’s that word again, I keep using it: eldritch, and someone wondered if people would be familiar with it, and they might be right - so … eldritch is exactly what it sounds like: creepy, weird, uncanny, occult, or ghostly), I have a sense of simply doing the next thing. Although I have to say, I don’t do next things that I am not somewhat passionate about, so there is that.

But what do I really want? Such abstract things. A functioning government. Peace and unity. A gentling of our collective worst impulses (including my own, for sure). Clean water, clear air, a culture that prioritizes the health and well-being of the planet and all her children.

And those are definitely things to work for. But they aren’t exactly personal. How do I want to move through that on a daily basis?

I want to live in a witchy little village where I can be surrounded by healers and creators and gardeners and trees, where I am free to pursue my passions without having to be tied to an unsustainable income expectation, without interference of censorship, without fear of reprisals from scaredy-cat locals who can’t handle anybody who doesn’t think they way they do.

I want to be valued for the work I do, for the results I facilitate, for the feels I bring to my creative flights.

A client recently told me that she loves the walk through the grass down the hill to my studio, that it enriches (perhaps enwitches?) the whole experience. A few weeks ago at a healing retreat in Minnesota, I lived in that fantasy of a witchy little village where I could walk to the cabin next door for a Tarot reading, and down the hill for a sound healing session or a myo-facial release session or some reflexology, and people could come to me for shamanic stuff and music. There were drum circles and yoga sessions and foot baths and bonfires. It was perfection. And although I was ready to go home by the end of it, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted “home” to be there.

There’s a word in Welsh that I am a little obsessed with: hiraeth (pronounced HE-ryeth), which means a deep longing for something, but particularly home, with a bit of shading toward a home that doesn’t quite exist, either anymore or yet, take your pick. Much of my life has been spent steeped in that feeling. There’s always a sense of not belonging, of being in the wrong place or the wrong time. Musically, I probably would have done a lot better if I’d have been born in the late ‘40s or early ‘50s. Iowa … well, there’s really no big national music scene here, but damn we have some amazing locals that play and write their own incredible music. I feel very blessed to be here, and yet I have a longing to be … somewhere where audiences are, frankly, better educated musically so different sounds are more appreciated and understood.

So you see, this process of figuring out what the fuck I want is going to be a winter-long thing, a winter-longing thing perhaps. I have to be okay with ignoring what I think is actually possible, and dreaming oh so veryvery big. Nothing is possible if we don’t imagine it so.

Love, peace, good health, clean water, clear air, and true love in whatever form means the most to you, to all and to all a good night.