A friend shared an ingenious way of putting her past self to rest: every day, she looks at her Facebook memories and deletes the ones that are no longer in alignment with her truest self. I haven’t done it every single day so it’ll take me more than a year to complete the project, but I have been doing it most days. There is a lot of deleting to be done, but it’s also been interesting to see the patterns. A lot of astrological seasons aren’t particularly impactful for me, but I have traveled (or mentioned wanting to get away) every single Aries season since I got on Facebook 14 years ago. I’ve gone on drives and hikes, visited Atlanta (twice, ten years apart) and Dallas (several times), and moved two times.
And now we’re moving a third time, this week. I had a cute little planning spread done up in my bullet journal with the last things I needed to do before we go—and then a literal tornado ripped through our city and upended them.
Our home and vehicles (and selves) are undamaged, although we’re surrounded by destruction and have been without electricity for several days. The city is rallying to recover, to find places for people to stay, to help clean up, to get the roads cleared and the electricity back on and the morale boosted—all of the wonderful ways that humanity tends to show up as its best in times of crisis.
But I am so done with Arkansas. Between the awful political climate that specifically harms the harmless, and an ongoing (and escalating) series of personal incidents, I feel like I am sprinting through the Mines of Moria on collapsing stone steps while arrows bounce around me and I keep hoping that each progressive incident was the Balrog so the next thing will be open air and rest in a safe haven. (Regrettably, there have been several false Balrogs so far). It’s beginning to feel personal, and I am ready to take my leave.
My affirmation for the month is “I release what was to compost what will be” and I mean it. The next post will hopefully be the beginning of the what-will-be—probably still chaotic, but in a different way. In the way of a garden that’s ready to grow.