Boy o boy o boy o boy. We got the brilliant idea to do our full moon ritual by the river tonight and assumed the light rain would soon enough subside since the tropical storm wasn’t due til tomorrow. But you know: two witches + full moon= insane sudden downpour that cleared out the area before we noticed what was happening (it being a full moon ritual and all) and next thing we knew we were locked in the river park in the pitch black with the rain coming down like it was a vertical pool and to exit we had to wade into the river trailing crystals and sage to climb out over the rocks on the other side of the fence and only when we got back home did we realize we’d dropped our keys in the park and had to climb back back in over the rocks–soaked in city rain and city river, laughing hysterically with our clothes basically quotation marks rather than actual coverups as people under awnings gaped at the two wild-eyed amazons essentially bare-breasted in an empty, unmanicured field in what once upon a time was new york city. Which is to say: if THIS magical ritual in THIS magical dystopia doesn’t clear out all the UNmagical garbage accumulated over the last lunar cycle well then NOTHING ever will. I think we’re good, though.
“This might be enough.”
To be sure, “enough” is a relative term. As I write this, I still don’t have enough in my accounts to cover my expenses a few months out nor do I have a steady income flow. In this way, I am in step with many many Americans, as well as people across the world.
My therapist says that I have a tendency to focus on the bright side of matters in a way that borders on dissociative, a fact that may surprise those who read my last post.
Trust me when I say it takes a lot for me to acknowledge when things aren’t working well. In fact, it’s a muscle I’m developing in real time. I used to fear disappearing into the abyss if I recognized its existence. But I’ve come to accept we can only solve a problem when we can acknowledge it.
That said, having transcended so many hard times in my life has granted me an insouciance I never experienced as a younger woman. Yes, I am still broke as I write this, but over the last few days so many have shared sweet solidarity and unexpected donations that, for this week at least, I have fresh, healthy food to eat and, for this month at least, Grace and I have a place to live in a city I love. Continue Reading →
But my heart has been in the streets of my city and country, where protests have been righteously, rigorously practiced even as law enforcement thugs have responded with pepper spray, rubber bullets, tear gas, police cars—anything they could weaponize (even The New York Times). We know light shines only when we turn it on, and I feel deep gratitude and reverence for those who have been doing so–for all who’ve brought their precious soft underbellies into these lethally police and pandemic-addled streets.
As many of you know, yesterday would have been the 27th birthday of Breonna Taylor, the black female EMT who declared joyfully in tweets that 2020 would be her year. 27 is a make-it-or-break-it age —when you begin your Saturn Return and journey into authentic, rewarding adulthood. I have such confidence that this beautiful soul would have done exactly that had she not been murdered in her own home by cops conditioned to plunder every physical, legal, emotional, and moral boundary of a person of color. It is no coincidence that yesterday also was a massive lunar eclipse–in social justice-seeking Sagittarius, no less.
So let this enormous celestial release of energy—for that is what an eclipse truly is— support the release being rightfully demanded in America’s blood-lined streets.
Let the solar return of the soul of Breonna unite with these big big stars. Let righteous light, righteous labor, righteous love burn down the American infrastructures built on the backs of brown and black bodies whose work, let alone humanity, was never honored. And by the light of this bright full moon let something more enduring, encapsulating, and ennobling rise like a phoenix its place.
In every way I can, this middle-aged white woman will practice more reckoning and self-reckoning to resist the injustice built into this broken land. I am grateful to all else who do so. May Breonna’s birthday song ring around the world.
For concrete actions you can take to commemorate Breonna’s life and the fight for justice, here is a list.