6 of swords

 6 of swords - The Light Seer's Tarot by Chris-Anne 

The image on the card shows a dark-haired woman wearing a red shawl and holding a suitcase stands in a row boat. The boat is being pulled by 3 crows while 3more fly in in the background. The woman woman is holding her hair out of her face and looking down pensively.

Summary of card meaning: I accept help as I easily cross this transition.

The first sentence of the author's interpretation says "You are moving through a period of realignment, and things can feel turbulent during these times of transition." I read it and laughed, and also felt tears well up in my eyes. It feels incredibly, capital t True to me. Whether I look at my current personal circumstances or the world at large, realignment, turbulence, and transition are major themes.

I've felt hopeless lately. 

I've been trying to power through, and force myself towards joy, non-judgement and acceptance of what is. 

It's not working. Of course not, because "force" isn't how I get to feeling those things. I can't skip the feelings I'm having, or shove them in a box. I know how that turns out (hint: not well). 

I'm reminded that help doesn't only come from people. It can come from animals, and nature, and the Universe. 

I'm also reminded of the old call and response song from when I was a kid. "Can't go around it, can't go over it, can't go under it, gotta go through it." 

Which feels hard, and exhausting, and that is a reminder to also help myself, with compassion, and kindness. 

Dear Angela,

This note is to remind you, the next time you are looking at your body and not liking it very much, just exactly why your body is amazing.

First of all, go look at that photo of you from last summer, looking smoking hot in your bikini. Go, now. It's ok, I'll wait.

Good.

Now, think of all the things your body is capable of doing. It can swim. It can sing. It can snuggle, both cats, and people. It can make yarn out of fiber, and then make stuff out of the yarn. It can dance.

Next, when the Buts start (but I used to be able to do the splits, but I can't walk in high heels, but I'm fat, but I used to be able to deadlift 125 lbs.), remind yourself of a few things.

1. If you really want to be able to do the splits, stretch more. That's how you got there the first time. Flexibility takes just as much work and practice as learning to spin, or rhumba, and you can do both of those things. Also, why, exactly, do you want to be able to do the splits?!
2. You can sit (and do other things) very well in high heels. Why the hell does it matter if you can walk in them?
3. Yes, you're fat. So? You're also healthy, which, really, is far more important. "Fat" is just a descriptor, like blue-eyed, or big-boobed. It's not a value judgement, and it says nothing about your character.
4. This week alone, you lifted somewhere around 6000 pounds of boxes at work, 3700 of those in one day. That means you lifted about 300 boxes at 20 pounds each. You lifted them from over your head down to the floor, and vice versa. You hauled pallets around. You pulled around a pump truck. Maybe you could deadlift 125 pounds again right now. Maybe you couldn't. You haven't tried lately, so cut it out with being stuck in the past.

Telling yourself that you have no value because you don't like the way your clothing fits, or because things are saggy, or wrinkled, or whatever, is not useful. Your worth is not based on what you see in the mirror. You certainly don't base the value of anyone else in your life on they way they look, why are you doing it to yourself?

TL;DR: as one very awesome person once told you "Don't be a knob." And go look at that photo again.

Xoxo

Angela

*Blows Off The Dust*

I've been inspired by a couple of people (Annika, and Jeff, mostly) who have started/ramped up their blogging to attempt to dust this off and do a bit of my own.

There will probably be stuff about my depression, my cats, my house, my relationships, and my crafting. So, much the same as stuff that winds up on other social media, but hopefully with a little more depth to it.

But, um, not today, because I should be doing work instead of blogging. Ahem.

Thunder

There is something about the air after a thunderstorm.  It smells a little sharper; feels a little more electric.  

I missed the light show part of tonight’s storm, but even hearing the spectacular boom and crack of the thunder, and the cadence of hard rain on the GLT rehearsal space rooftop was enough to remind me just how much I love a thunderstorm.

I’m normally a water person.  I get recharged and do my best thinking near bodies of water: streams, waterfalls, the occasional lake, when I can get to one.  The first time I realized that it wasn’t just the water part of a good, violent thunderstorm that energizes me was when I was in high school.  A bunch of us crammed ourselves into someone’s station wagon and drove to Wasaga Beach on a whim, Depeche Mode’s Violator tape in the deck.  It was off season, so the beach wasn’t busy, but the weather was warm enough that we spent a good few hours there.  Just before sunset, I climbed up into one of the guard chairs and watched as a lightning storm rolled across the lake.  Dark and light, colour and gray, actual calm being chased by a true storm.  It was primal nature and it made me feel like I was buzzing and fizzing.  Restless.  Undone.

Of course, the rain part of a thunderstorm, especially one at the end of summer, can be just as powerful.  The summer before my third year of university was hot, and dry.  The day we finally got rain, a roommate and I were out riding our bikes, looking at apartments for September.  The rain, when it finally came, came in sheets with great fanfare.  The rain smelled electric.  The sizzling sound of it hitting the hot pavement was a quiet echo of the lightning splitting the air.  We got home, drenched, and then danced in the front yard out of sheer joy.

Years later, I lived on the 20th floor of an apartment building in downtown Toronto.  The balcony was solid concrete, deep and safe, with a wall of windows looking out it.  We faced Lake Ontario and the CN Tower, and my then-husband and I looked forward to shutting off the lights and sitting on the balcony together to watch a thunderstorm roll in off the lake.  We would watch the advancing curtain of water, and count the seconds between the light and the crack and the boom, taking guesses at how long it would take for the blast of air before the rain to reach us.

Now, when I can, I stand on my front porch, and I try to watch for the curtain of water.  I can still feel the sizzle, the zzt of the air, the electricity dripping from my fingers.  I miss my balcony, but I still count the seconds between light and sound.  I hope that someday I’ll dance on the lawn again, with wild abandon, and primal joy.

Rockstar

I am going to go teach my former peers how to use the software I update every Monday with the numbers that everyone in the company uses to manage their headcount.  Because I am a rockstar.

Yesterday, I finished booking my Guild speakers for the year, and I got Amy Singer, the founder of Knitty.com to come talk to us in April.  Because I am a rockstar.

Today I am wearing heels, and an awesome dress, and eyeliner, and lipstick.  Because I am a rockstar.

Today I am not feeling like an utter fool for waiting (and waiting, and waiting) for responses from people who clearly are not going to respond in the way I hoped they would.  Because I am a rockstar.

Maybe, if I keep telling myself I am a rockstar, I will believe it.

Last night I dreamt that my feelings were bleeding through, blossoming in bruises across my skin.

They started on my hips, wrapped around my groin and wandered, slowly, colourfully up my stomach.  Browns, purples, that sickly, awful green, spreading across my breasts until there was no pink left, except the bright, bright red of my nipples.

This morning I asked for peace, and for passion, with the understanding that I probably won't get it in the way that I think I want it.

I am tired of "bruises" that I did not ask for.

Shameless Self-Promotion

One of the places I am decidedly not stuck is in my personal-professional life.  I call it that because it's not the work I get paid to go to an office and do everyday, but work I do for my community, and work that feeds where I want to go on the professional side of my life.


I was asked by my friend Gillian over at Craftzilla Conquers the World to be a part of Ignite Culture: Guelph on June 21, 2012.  I was very honoured to be asked, and also very terrified.  Give me a script or a song and send me out in front of people, and that's just fine, or get me introduce somebody else and I have no problem with it.  But my own ideas?  Who would want to hear those?  As it turns out, I have an awful lot to say, which is why I'm talking so fast, as I had only five minutes to say all of it.  


The experience was wonderful due to getting some excellent feedback (I had one very pregnant woman walk up to me and say "I want what you have", which was an amazing and difficult and important moment for me), and getting the chance to make connections in my home arts community.  It also helped me to realized some of the stuff I talked about in yesterday's post - that I'm not invisible, and that I do have stuff to say that people want to hear.


Also, I managed not to completely dissolve into tears at the end.  Go me!