Inspiration

The morning’s magnificence, splendor of a burnished sun vibrating an electric sky, rides under the dark wing of sorrow.

This wow week of sexy shifts includes Fall Equinox, one of the earth's four transformative gateways; Pluto, the sexy planet, more powerful and regenerative as it stations; A New Moon in Libra~ruled by Venus; and a Jupiter-Uranus trine for courage and breakthroughs. Love the one you're with!

Preparing for the equinox, like designing a tablescape, offers an opportunity to re-set the imagination. When we set a table to celebrate, we lay out the best, designing alignments from highest vibrational desires. We hope to integrate and navigate the celebration with judicious use of memories from past experience, a creative intellect, and good gut intuition.

The world has lost a treasure trove of notable talent recently, and personally, I have lost loved ones of some extraordinary talent.  There are many endings to the world we have known opening confluence to large questions:  What is disappearing that I have loved? What were qualities in those famous lives that gave them value?  Why do I care when I hear they have died? How have I been transformed by those I loved that are now gone? How did they share their wisdom and grace? Poignant endings are opportunity to review: What am I funding that will be missed when I’m gone? What healing can I offer? Am passing on anything of true value? How do I carry and translate the light of those who have gone before? Confluences create un-expected recognitions. Does it take loss to comprehend what we have, who we are, what we value?  The ending of a job, a long distance move, a child leaving home, and the big one, death offer windows to regenerate, reconsider, re-animate, and re-value.  Questioning the value of a life is impossible, that of an event or a season, a bit easier.  Using Labor Day as a marker to summer’s end I ask: “Did I wander and waste enough time? What of value did I glean from the garden?  Have I laughed enough?  What about the worth of a single summer’s day?  Do I assess 24 hours, by how alive I have been, or how many days I have left?  $1000.00 is a crass amount for one exquisite day on earth, and if it’s the last day, a $1000,000.00 doesn’t begin to cover the bill. Tomorrow, I shall wake and call out, “Show me the ‘Quan!”  By sunset, I shall murmer, “I have grown this day by heart. I etched……

  I sat on craggy Maine rocks, washed in sea mist and seaweed smells. It was lovely to be at the shore, though it wasn’t my shore, nor familiar sea smells. I am a child of another ocean, of soft sandy beaches, rolling surf lines and Dolphins leaping through waves. Romantic as this rugged Atlantic sea is, I yearned for what I had grown up with, the wet-remembrances of a tiny Pacific island peninsula. Memories rose of the very wet summer of my 16th year, when I was part of the diving team, the swim team, body-surfed the big ones, and applied for the job of Sea Maid at Sea World. “Can you dive?” “Oh yes.” “Great. We just lost a girl, you’re in.  We need you dressed in half an hour. Pick up a full tank, and shortie wet suit at supply. Let your hair hang free, and meet me above the California aquarium-theater. Do you know your fish?” I’m nodding ‘yes,’ as I slowly realize I’m not diving from a tower, but with a tank, and I really have no idea about fish other than grunion, jelly fish and the non-fish, lobster. But water is water and I know water. How hard can it be? I suit up and find the California tank. “Here you go. Sit on the ledge, wait for your cue, drop into the tank, swim back and forth, wave to the people, point out each fish as the sound track calls its name. Good luck.” I’m perched, ready in my short pink wet suit. A giant manta ray floats onto my lap. I stop breathing. No one told me the stinger had been removed, or that the ray loved to nestle on the girl’s laps as they waited. I may have been blond, but……

Dancing between order and chaos, fragility and substance, small truths to larger truths emerge.