Transition

Is an opening for Magic

Magic. There have been times I have carried it in my pocket and there have been times I have stomped it to dust. Transition is an opening for magic, when layers of routine and habits are peeled back naked and raw, there is a fleshy underbelly where new seeds can be planted. The same goes for new moons and solar eclipses. Plant your seeds and dream tend them and watch them grow.

Once, easter season 2004, I found myself in San Miguel de Allende. I had been flown in by a very rich American Japanese family to homeschool, Waldorf style, their children in a casita off the beaten path, 8 miles from the town center. The family was endlessly fascinating but challenging and there was a dreamy Japanese bathhouse on the land. I had my own adobe casita, and slept inside of a ln earthen cocoon painted deep velvet blue with hand painted gold stars and moons above my head. 

San Miguel is a magic land where what you think has the possibility of manifesting before you. Follow the dream as if it is a white rabbit and it will lead you to wonder-filled underworlds both fertile and moist. 

I have come to learn a thing or two about magic. Not sleight of hand trickery, but the magic of dream seeding, seed tending, vision planting and manifesting. It might sound too new agey for your liking, but there is truth to the metaphysics of reality. Despite it having a sparkle to it, sometimes, it is plain as salt.

For example, there I was in San Miguel, but clearly, my destiny was intended to be elsewhere, and after a week or so of unusual dreams nudging me to return to Boulder, destiny arm wrestled reality to the ground and changed course seemingly out of the blue and within a month of having been there I was now in Boulder Colorado getting initiated into a Priestess circle at a place called The Star House with a temple built with precision to the Sidereal star constellations and the sacred geometry meditation structures hanging from the trees and the standing stones and the kiva beneath the floors in which we sat in the dark drumming and dream tending and witnessing the sun of the winter solstice shine through a portal.

It went like this. Yes, I was in San Miguel, but I was grieving. The why of that grief is another story, but an important story that launched me towards all the stories before and that I have ever had since. And sometimes in grief there is also fertility and possibility. Yes, death is an ending, but it does not keep you forever in the land of endings. New beginnings are always gestating on the other side and they are thick with possibility and potentiality. there is also this thing called the unconscious and it is sacred and sometimes challenging to trust, but it also leads us forward if we listen to dreams and intuition and longing. Dream tending is like working with the medicine of water. It is like playing with Atlantis. It shows you how fluid cocreation really is.

The family was the worst fit ever for me to work with. We both discovered it at the same time that I was dreaming of priestesses in Boulder, CO, calling me in to join them and I had received that call in my sleep while being woken up by the 2am night intruder oppossum in my kitchen upstairs. 

And literally, reality shapeshifted. It was Good Friday. I was in San Miguel, and then I was in Boulder. I woke up to the men walking with the crosses upon their backs on the dusty road and then I was being driven by a driver to the airport, with less than 12 hours notice, that the family simply did not have a use for me anymore and I would be sent back to Boulder with a months pay in my pocket. 

Within a weekend there I was, being initiated into a sacred ceremonial arts foundation year program, being led blindfolded from the Kiva into the temple where the sisters whispered magical affirmations into our ears, and tears fell from my weary eyes, because I had never had sisters in this way before, and being showered with love is not a thing I had also experienced before and it was beautiful and definitely new agey if you were to judge, but heart opening and nurturing. 

Magic is what we place inside of it. It is the middle name of Imagination and it also lives inside of one's inner Magi. You have one, I have one, we all have a Magi within, unless you have had your imagination stomped on to death, and unfortunately, that does happen. imagination is inside of the Genie or genius within, the daimon, the spirit of possibility and destiny. It also lives inside of the coccon, when the caterpillar is turning to soup and it eats itself. the hormones called imaginal cells are what activate the butterfly into being and create the new cellular structure to grow wings from out of death. There it is, flying into a new world, showing us all that dreams really are possible to achieve. 

It may not always be sparkly or shiny. it may be very pragmatic and practical, or it may be trickstery and dark and manipulative or even charlatan-y, or it may be single focused and determined, visionary and steadfast and true. 

If you have a dream, a wish, an intention a hope for something different than what you have been doing or loving or tending or where you have been living or any part of your life that needs mending, take out the pen that is really a modern caduceus and write down your wish. Sometimes, it simply starts there. With seeing it before your eyes, instead of sleeping with it unconsciously. 

We are in a window of moon tending. It is also a solar eclipse portal. It harkens back to the solar eclipse new moon May 19th 2004. Listen for themes from that time in your life. Resurrect old dreams. Resurrect new truths.

New moon ideas have power especially when we materialize them into writing. 

And despite what they tell you in graduate school, dream tending is a noble profession. 

New Moon Solar Eclipse 2023.

Delve deeper: Book a new moon solar eclipse mythopoetic Tarot. Sliding scale 75 - 150/ reading. Contact me at (928) 699-7270 or movingthestory@gmail.com

Image one: unknown

Image two: Starhouse, Boulder CO

Image three: we are one puzzle

Image four: Charlie Bowater