"I hear the drizzle of the rain

like a memory it falls

soft and warm, continuing

tapping on my roof and walls..."

I was singing that to the wee one as the last lullaby of the night. She said, "I like that song," before falling asleep. It's by Paul Simon. Tonight we made paper snowflakes for the windows and we took some pumpkin cake upstairs to the landlady. She said that she and her husband always know whenever my girl is coming or going because every time she walks outside their little dog cries. And that her granddaughter is coming over this weekend so if she wants she can come over and play. She's so nice. She let me rent this apartment even though I didn't have the deposit. I barely had the first month's rent. And no job. Just my name and my mother-in-law's contact information was the only security deposit I could give her and she took it. Most other places want a full three months rent before they'll give you the keys. So you see I had to take it. Like, what were the odds? Slim to none, that's what.

My friend the astrologer has been telling me about like Pluto and Mars "doing the death and resurrection dance," as she puts it, in my fourth house of family and in one of my houses of partnerships and stuff for the past good while now. It's about to wrap up, finally, and I'm supposed to think about the essentials of what I want in my day-to-day life, my routine, my home, and she also said to come up with the essential traits I would want in a partner that I could count on one hand. And to get that established this month as a kind of tuning fork for not only the next few months but the next several years, she says. 

I could never be an astrologer. I don't have the patience for all the charts. But I like the way they talk about time. They make it sound like there's lots left. Me, I'm more of a mystic. A mystic with no concept of time. Everything feels very immediate, even memories. Sometimes especially memories. 

I recently had a dream that a honeybee stung me on the crown of my head, and since that happened I've had a few startlingly clear visions that seemed to get inserted into my mind from elsewhere. They were clearer than any I've ever had before, including shamanic journeys, which is saying something, because those tend to be technicolor, vivid, multi-dimensional wild rides with lots of clear messages.

But these are different. They're like high definition mini movies. I had one just the other day that I later realized intersected perfectly with a vision my friend Niki had of me way back in Texas last year, and then a few days later my friend Sarah called me and said she'd had a dream about me where I told her, "When you wake up, remember to tell me that [describes specific scene from that vision] is going to happen soon." Here's the thing, I had NOT told her anything about that vision. She's been really busy and we hadn't talked for two weeks. It really freaked me out, that convergence. But then I had had a dream a few nights prior which, now that I think about it, pointed to a previous convergence of dreams, visions, and so-called "reality," that happened to me a few years ago. Holy fuck, I just realized that. That dream pointed to the vision, which pointed to my friend's vision, both of which my other friend's dream then pointed to. We're in a four-way, old western, psychic shootout, but a nice one. 

They call it a Mexican Standoff. 

Okay. I don't have time to get freaked out, there's a sink full of dishes, a living room full of construction paper clippings, and I got work in the morning, so I'll just skip to the part where I accept the weirdness and move on.

I'm saying that maybe that honeybee stung my crown chakra to open me up to more incoming information. 

While Pluto's been dancing with me, this writing receptacle has been a place for me to purge the demons, so to speak. I had a lot of rage and pain that I needed to put somewhere. And while I was purging the old stuff, new stuff kept coming up, and it was a bit of a rage and pain tornado for a minute there. I'm not the kind of person who can just sit by and say nothing when things get uncomfortable. If you disrespect my friend, I'm going to call you out. If you falsely accuse me of something, I'm going to speak my truth. If you get on my nerves, I'm going to ask you if you're a Sagittarius, it's just what I do. I don't bury things inside. Even if I only tell one trusted person, I have to let it out. I think it's why I cry so easily. I'm not being a baby, my body just can't contain the emotions, it has to release them through my eyes in these little droplets of saltwater. 


I'm done purging now. I think I got it all out. Well, the stuff that I'm willing to write down, which, granted, has been most of it. There are still some things that are better whispered in person, in private. We all have things like that. 

Sometimes I want to reach back into 2012 and be like, "Honey, first of all, love the dress, but what are you thinking? What are either of you thinking?" But I don't blame us anymore. There are some things in life that there really is no way to find out what it's all about until you do them. Sex. Marriage. Having a baby. Splitting up. These are things you think you can imagine and then you do them and you're like, oh. Okay then. So that's what that's like. Pluto was dancing with me even then. The life and death dance. In my wedding dress, I was barely two weeks out of the hospital, having lost a pregnancy in a dangerous ectopic. I had been in a hospital bed for ten days, getting methotrexate shots, wondering if at any moment I was going to start to hemorrhage and would have to lose my reproductive organs in order to save my life. It was harrowing. I lost three pregnancies in three years. Nothing that pointed to infertility, but various reasons. It sucked. I definitely needed a lot more emotional support than I got. But I believe that when that happens, the spirit of your child just keeps trying until they get their body. And I know that mine just kept trying. She was never lost, although the grief I felt was still sharp, lonely agony every time. I remember asking her to stick around until I could get her through and she never seemed worried. She was always looking forward going like, "Oh yeah, I'll be there." I feel like we make birth agreements with our children. At least one parent, anyway, if I'm honest I don't always think it's both, although a lot of people don't agree with me. I kind of believe that everyone we know, we all made a deal before we were born to come to Earth together, and we kind of map out what we'll do and what we'll learn. And it all seems like such a great idea Over There because we've forgotten what it's like Down Here, and then we get here and we're like, "Fuuuuuuuuck." But thankfully there are also things like France and ranch dressing and night swimming, so it's not all bad. 

Niki always says, "Things had to happen this way." I'm not so sure about that. But they did happen this way, and this is the mystic in me talking but I feel that things are moving in the unseen world, in the invisible realms. I can only speak for my soul tribe right now, but things are working out for our good. Do I say that a lot? I do, I say that a lot. Well, it's true. I wish I could get my hands on some mushrooms because I love the part where the night sky gets so close to you, bends aaaaaaaalllllllll the way down to look right at you, nose-to-nose, and says, "We're right here with you. You're not alone. You are beautiful. We love you. Everything is going to be all right." Only the way they say it, "all right" sounds more like "wonderful." But you know what else, even without the mushrooms, there have been a handful of moments where the golden light of God breaks through the veil and changes everything. I don't know about you but I find those moments really hard to forget. Maybe because they're glimpses of actual reality. The first time I saw Alfrun. An unexpected, blissful soul collision. My first opera, age fifteen, leaning all the way forward in my seat to fold my arms on the balcony railing in front of me and rest my chin on them, carried away by the music. (We humans love a good song and a story. An opera house is just a campfire with really good acoustics.) 

So I do think that all this happened for a reason. Probably for many reasons. Is that nuts? Who cares. What if all the things we believed in when we were twelve turned out be real? I mean like, the good things. I believed in lovely things when I was twelve. I was... exactly the same as I am now, let's be honest. Aren't we all? Well, aren't we? Is that not a thing?

The rage tornado is dissipating. I don't need it anymore. I'm getting down to the essentials. 

Sorry. The essential. 

There's just the one. 


Oh, did I not say it up there? 

You're right, I didn't, sorry about that.

It's love. 

Yep. Just love.



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