Tarot Reading – Full Moon In Scorpio 2024

Day after full moon.

78 Tarot Ecological.

1. What part of your life is ready to transform? 8 of Water (8 of Cups). A polar bear sits in the area where she has raised cubs before, but the area is melting, indicated by the 8 waterfalls. It’s no longer safe here for her. Nor is it safe for those she chooses to raise as family. If you are bluntly honest with yourself, you deserve more than what you currently have. Where you are is not safe for you emotionally. Walk away from what doesn’t serve you. Emotionally and spiritually, you’ve reached your limit. Do what it takes to make you happy. Well, that’s a huge canvas, tarot. Which part of my emotional life? PizzaBoy? ThirtiesPerson? Some other aspect? It’s too uncomfortable and awful to think it applies to PB. End my marriage? Not if I have anything to do with it. But yes, TP, it IS time you moved out.
2. What will aid in this change? Activist of Air (Knight of Swords). Don Quixote once tilted at windmills, seeing them as foes. Now, he rides to defend these gentle giants who provide much-needed energy to the communities they serve. Thought is nothing without action – it’s time to jump, before the chance slips away. Listen to your inspiration, your clear fresh ideas of how to find a solution. Don’t be slowed down by negativity and doubt. However, haste can make you miss potential issues. It is time to send that email to TP’s NDIS coordinator and ask exactly why she made that comment about the Independent Living Options service we interviewed. What did she have against them? Why say we’re getting closer to the vision, and that this isn’t it? Why say don’t commit. Eventually, honey, we’re going to have to commit to something. What’s the hold up?
3. What was once hidden that is now seen in the full moon’s light? The Sun. You’ve come out the other side of the darkness and can now shine. Radiate excitement, warmth, energy. But in what area? What part of me that was hidden is now in the full sunlight? I feel no pull to any particular area of my life that this could apply to.
4. What skeletons can you release from the closet? 7 of Earth(7 of Pentacles). The hard work of building the web is done. The spider can now wait to see what comes of it. There are several insects flying around, so that indicates she’s built in the right place. Pause and take stock. Consider what you’ve done, accomplished, and test whether the path you’re on is still the right one. There is more to success than just the work. Consider what is going well, and what can be cut away. Is this writing? Launching TP? Marriage counselling? Other aspects of my life? Earth indicates it’s a physical manifestation in my life, something material and concrete. TP and their house? That would seem likely, given what this reading has been about so far.
5. What seeds were you tending that are ready to bloom? Activist of Earth(Knight of Pentacles). Reliability, steadfastness, doing the work. This is not a time to shirk responsibilities and drag your heels. Act now to create the future you want. Play to your strengths. This is echoed in the second card. Act now. Work in a steady manner towards housing TP, instead of these fits and starts. My strengths: autism. I can ask the awkward questions because I simply want answers, and I’m done with others dragging their damned heels in this. What exactly is your hemming and hawing about, coordinator?
6. How can you nurture these new blossoms(and yourself)? 4 of Energy (4 of Wands). Pause, celebration, enjoyment. A dryad with a crown of blooming flowers. She is in the sanctuary of her woods where she feels safe. Take time to celebrate wins and how far you’ve come, treat yourself to some fun along with the hard work. Take time to acknowledge each step now, and the work it takes. Action, rest, action, rest. But plan it. Not wild flurries of action, then exhaustion.
7. Which repeating lesson can you finally integrate? Mother Earth(Empress). My tendency to mother everything and everyone. The Empress is my card for this lifetime, life path. But my astrological chart indicates that my path is to move out of the Mother Earth role and into a more self-focussed life. Which doesn’t mean not care-taking myself and my life. What will nurture me best now is TP moving out, and a more self-ish life. Firm boundaries on what I will allow. Connection with the earth is vital for me and I must take that into account each day.

The Daily Blog experiment – Yellowed Memory

I have spent a convoluted morning unpacking, reading, posting to Instagram and Facebook, reading, attempting to write poetry, reading, and generally feeling flat and as creative as a brown dwarf star(not at all, a burnt out thing).

Somehow, all this has lead me to what is either an appalling memory,

dissociation,

or alienation from my own writing.

Because there’s fewer short stories, I can usually trace my inspiration, my intention, and the general plot, even from scraps. But not always. Oh, it’s not the “I dreamed an amazing story, woke up, wrote some notes, went back to sleep. And when I woke up in the morning, the note said: ‘the black glove, Tim, American politics’.”

I usually have some slight memory of writing a story. Usually.

Poetry – well, we’re in much dicier territory. There’s A LOT of them. Many’s the time I’ve turned to my support worker and said: “What the actual fuck? What the hell is this about? Why? Who? When?”

Now, when I enter my ‘flow state’ I have no consciousness of time, body needs, anything around me. It’s pointless me playing music. I don’t hear it. I often don’t feel my feet falling asleep. My poor bladder has to fend for itself. I’m told this is hyperfixation. It may well be. I have the ADHD badge.

Later, I will not have any memory of what I’ve written, nor be able to recognise it later. Channeling? It’s been suggested. But if so, the dead poet using me is also keen on dinosaurs, space, fabric, tarot, science fiction, and dance.

I don’t know if I just have a shite memory, but if so, why do I remember everything about Bentleigh in the 70’s, and Carrum Downs in the 80’s and early 90’s, but not my own work?

Do I dissociate when I write? It doesn’t feel like it. I never have a sense that I am sitting in the back of my own head while something or someone else looks out of my eyes. That’s a very definite state and I know if I’m doing that.

Is it alienation? Do I not, on some level, want to own my work?

I honestly don’t know. This morning as I wrestled with The Giant Blah Feeling of ‘nothing to say’, suddenly there appeared on the page a quite decent little poem that I didn’t know was in me. It was about a small moment, or series of moments with XP. Nothing exciting, but it still needed saying. And I didn’t know that until I came back to myself and saw the page.

I like the idea that I enter an altered state between the worlds, and make magic.

The Daily Blog experiment – home!

Well, I’m home after a few days in Queensland, visiting ThirtiesGirl and my three grandchildren. They are growing up without me, mostly. Every time I see them, they’re taller, and more independent. Grandma snuggles are going the way of the rotary phone. The two boys are happy to hang out near me, but aren’t too keen on cuddles any more. I am allowed to hold a foot or ankle and provide reiki in that way.

The girl, age 7.5 going on 23, is getting too cool for cuddles also. The first couple of days, she kept close to me, but as the days wore on, I became less and less interesting and it was suddenly fun to ignore me, give me vague answers, and not want cuddles at all.

This is the way of kids getting older. They don’t want, or can’t admit they do want Grandma cuddles and time. I know that. It’s still painful though. I have to let it happen. It’s normal. They’re not babies any more.

I do think it’s a shame though. Australians, on the whole, aren’t a super huggy bunch to begin with, and the push is always there, culturally, to be cool, to be tough, and not need affection, love, or loads of attention.

Maybe they see the time I take away from them to decompress my autistic self, and be alone as me not wanting to be around them. I do, but I can only do so much and endure so much noise before my nervous system starts sending out the ‘we’re getting super itchy, scratch until you draw blood’, ‘bite your nails’, and ‘bite the inside of your mouth’ signals. All stimming things that I do when I’m disregulated and stressed.

There’s no other solution than getting somewhere quiet, or at least away from their immediate needs.

Anyway, I’m home. Thanks to my Loops ear plugs I survived the flight and noise, and I’m now in bed, tucked up in soft pyjamas.

Tomorrow I’ll fully unpack and make sure everything is put away, and my toiletries bag is restocked ready for my next trip.

Oh, the quiet pleasure of being able to choose from my whole tea pantry instead of the 20 or so tea bags I took with me.

The Daily Blog – bucket list item #70

On my bucket list is it’sm #70: ride on an electric scooter.

Right place, right time. I’m visiting my daughter and grandkids in Queensland. My son-in-law, CarMan, is home this week from his FIFO(Fly In Fly Out) job as a mechanic and truck driver at the mines in Mackay. He has an electric scooter. Last night he plugged it in.

This afternoon I donned my granddaughter’s bike helmet and CarMan showed how to put it on the lowest gear. Button on the left, press, do a bit of scoot to kick off, and I wobbled down the street.

After a couple of goes up and down the street, including an “OMG, I’m in the bushes!”, I got brave enough to ride around the block. Then CarMan turned it up to second gear, and I zapped around the block again.

My hair actually streamed back a little, and my dress hem flapped. I felt so speedy and smart, and…well…scooty.

I was a bit wobbly the whole way, but I did it.

The urge to go faster was on me, and took me right back to my first ever solo drive in a car. I dared, on a quiet Sunday afternoon, press the accelerator up to 70kmph, just for a few hundred metres. I felt wild and scared then. And now.

I knew if I fell, I’d abraid badly. I have enough problems with my 60 year old arm skin thinning. One scratch and it inflames and starts to tears. So while I had the need for speed, I hopped off, and let my grandson have a ride.

I couldn’t stop smiling. I did it. I rode on a scooter.

Yay me. Bucket list item achieved!

The Daily Blog experiment – idea generation

The funny thing is, I can remember how I generated perhaps 20% of my poems, maybe 50% of my stories, and 90% of my articles.

The articles are easy. When I was a columnist for NOVA magazine, I’d get a list of the themes of the month way ahead of time, and then I’d have a two week lead time each month to offer up a new article.

Often, the theme would be something as vague as ‘light’, ‘foundations’, or ‘comfort’. As long I was 1000 words long, vaguely amusing, vaguely new age, and vaguely speaking to the theme, I could write what I liked. (As long as I didn’t get all meta and writing about writing.)

Sometimes, my initial thought was what went with. I’d been hot air ballooning the month before ‘light’ so I could write about the dawn light coming through the clouds.

Foundations though….my mum’s foundation garments of huge bra, Bonds Cottontail undies, and panti-girdle were not going to do the trick.

Sometimes it took some desperate intention setting and a trip to St Andrew’s bush market. “Between now, 8am, and when I get home, I will see something that inspires today’s article.”

I had to do some desperate intention setting that today I would generate an idea for the 5th module of Season of the Wolf: the Hulder and the search for extraterrestrial flora.

I haven’t done all the reading. I missed last week’s discussion of the reading. I’m currently in Queensland visiting my daughter and three grandkids. I haven’t turned my mind to the topic at hand.

I did take a half hour walk today, which usually lets my mind wander. It obligingly did so. A few days before, I saw a notification that Australian nature writer Inga Simpson was giving a writing workshop. I can’t attend, but thought of her brought her novels NEST, and WHERE THE TREES WERE. The latter got me thinking about arborglyphs – symbols carved into indigenous Australian trees. Most have been cut down and destroyed during land grabs by white fellas. Those preserved in museums have mysteriously gone missing in collections (let’s not admit that this land remains unceded).

Arborglyphs x Scandinavian huldra = today’s poem about immigration, hybridisation, integration, and in the background is land rights.

I can’t post any of it here, due to me wanting to sell first publication rights, but I thought you’d like to know about the cross-pollination that happens in my brain.

Oh go on then, here’s a Scribbly snippet.

The Daily Blog experiment – perfect morning

To be honest, the morning can’t get much better.

It’s warm enough to do without socks.

I’m in comfy leggings, a favourite tshirt, and no bra.

It’s Sunday morning.

My grandkids are having a lazy morning gaming, or playing on iPads.

The house is quiet.

It’s pouring rain.

There’s the smell of Holy Smoke incense faintly from where I have it burning outside under the verandah.

My iPad is fully charged.

I have a cup of chai.

My hair is now long enough to pull back into a ponytail off the nape of my neck.

The light is soft, if a little gloomy.

I have just started a new book.

Perfect

The Daily Blog experiment – Australia Zoo

Even though it wasn’t on my bucket list, I ticked off a bucket list item, yesterday. (And yes, I know it’s not a daily blog if it’s not daily, but I’m with my grandkids, so shut up). Australia Zoo.

ThirtiesGirl and her family have been Queenslanders for five years. While I secretly hope they will come to their senses and move back to Victoria so I can get weekly grandkids doses, I know they love the Sunshine Coast lifestyle. I have to say, it’s enticing. Warmer weather, slower life. I’d have moved already if it wasn’t for my parenting-caring-guardian responsibilities with ThirtiesPerson. Who DOES NOT WANT TO MOVE NORTH, THANKS.

Here are: PizzaBoy, myself, Miss J, Logie B, and Super C.

We hit the ground running with an early soccer game for Logie B, then off to the zoo.

Cheetahs, tigers, and lemurs, oh my!

I haven’t been to any zoo in years, so it was good to get amongst wild animals again, and see some up close that I’d never seen before. The lemurs are just as cute as you think they are. Those long fluffy tails – why can I not have one of my own. And if you’ve ever thought something similar, go read ‘The Conglomeroid Cocktail Party’ by Robert Silverberg. I don’t care how that story turns out, I still want a lemur tail of my own.

As you can see, it rained. Welcome to northern Australia and monsoon season. It was still warm, but the lemurs and many other animals were moving towards their heated shelters. And yet, we humans were waking around, buying up cheap plastic ponchos. (@Australia Zoo, how do you justify the plastic ponchos when you’re all about reducing plastic use in the world, especially one-use plastic?)

The giraffes, zebras, and rhinos live together in a large communal enclosure. This giraffe seemed to be going out of his way to bug this zebra, continually breathing on, nibbling, licking and nudging. I guess your older brother can be from another species, and you can bug him like the brat you are.

The croc show in the Crocoseum was headed up by Bindi Irwin’s husband, and two young women. This pale croc is called Casper, and ‘always brings 110%’. Must’ve been a slow day, because he shlumped around. Then again, this show must be a bit like a sushi train. If you don’t fancy the rats and chickens today, meh, because you’ll have another opportunity in a few days.

Even so, I cheered and yelled ‘Crikey!’ with the best of them.

Super C and I kept commenting on the ‘excellent bin chicken show’, whenever some wild ibis landed and poked around. “This is what I flew north to see,” I told him.

“I moved here for this!” he replied.

And I don’t care what species these snakes actually are. Miss J and I called them the Stacks On snakes.

By the end of the day, we were all chilly, and worn out, so home to dry couches, soft blankets, and down time on iPads.

I’m really happy to have had this day with my family, and to have made some new memories.

The Daily Blog experiment- sugar addiction

I’ve had dinner. I’m full. Yet I was tearing the house apart just now looking for chocolate. I knew I’d eaten my last Freddo Frog this morning. There were no jelly snakes, and not one Easter Egg left over.

I was in my pyjamas but thought about jumping in the car and making a chocolate run. You know, just a couple of Freddie, one bag of snakes….

I’m using Noom, a weight loss app. I lie to it.

I am lying to an app that doesn’t care about my sugar intake.

Just one gluten free packet of biscuits…

Anyway, I decided to finish off the last handful of grapes.

Sugar addiction appeased, but no the mouth-feel of Cadbury’s.

Well, I’ll tell you now, body, we’re not going out.

You can just get stuck into the last 15% of ANGEL OF THE CROWS, and read that.

Poem found on Terri Windling’s website

Phyllis Holliday said…
Bridges

More than once kind friends
Make bridges in the air – They are
Artists, writers, actors, muses,
They keep all the secret trolls
Alive and watchful and necessary.

These trolls I know are of course
Secretly kinder than we think.
Who else could hide under stones
On wet weeds and mud, to call out
“Who goes there?” Who indeed?

Artists, writers, actors, children and
Also jugglers; all on the edge of
The stories we cherish, for children
And any seeker on a quest; road
Stops and becomes the bridge.

Do you not in dreams, search
Among good and evil, and find
The something in between, Troll
Who puzzled you, and as trickster
Gives you riddles and tales.

In green country, with stone bridges
And fairy gifts are nearby, we see
Where we need to go. But first
Meet the Troll, Change into who
You never knew who you could be.

The Daily Blog – A cup of tea, a Bex, and a good lie down

Bex powders were developed and sold in Australia in the 20th century. They were marketed to women under stress as “why don’t you have a cup of tea, a Bex, and a good lie down”. So much so that the saying entered the language and means ‘chill out’. It’s not heard so much these days.

(Bex was taken off the market when it was shown to be addictive [caffeine content], and to cause kidney failure.)

Mum always had a packet of Bex in the house. I was given the powders as a kid when I had flu aches and pains. They tasted bitter, even in cordial or sweetened tea. I never had enough to become addicted, and my kidneys seem to be in fine form.

Out of my mouth today came the words “I need a cuppa, a Bex, and a good lie down.”

I was, and am, exhausted after databasing poems for 2 hours this morning, then making writing offerings to journals for 2 hours this afternoon. I slumped and uttered the Bex incantation. Then had to explain it to my support worker, Emily the Blonde.

I’m not at all nostalgic for actual Bex. I do like the idea of a cuppa and a lie down, though.