Certainly, during my darkest times, I seem to experience the most magic. Not just because I'm lighting a lot more candles, listening to goddess chants instead of doom scrolling, and reaching out to my teachers, guides, and good friends. I remember this in my first Saturn Return, the sparkling synchronicities, cosmic moments, coyotes giggle.
Here is rebirth - the third cycle, could be my last. I move from room to room, expunging expired antibiotic ointments procured during my trip to Ireland in 2016; dozens of plastic hangers as I fold away my winter clothes; rearrange the plethora of items that have somehow accumulated in my car's glove compartment, which I lovingly refer to as "my car purse."
However, at this point how many crumpled masks do I need? But what if there's another shortage and I can reuse these? These are the questions that plague my mind and tax my spirit.
So I look to Perth, the rune of initiation. The phoenix rises out of the ashes. My dad was cremated and his ashes were scattered at sea, but none of our family was there, per my mom's wishes. No memorial, no funeral.
Instead, I took down some two thousand origami cranes that have been hanging in my backroom for decades. The first thousand were made by my friend Mina, who sent them in a box right before I moved into this house. It took me hours to bead and hang them, and I spent many more hours admiring their patterns let alone their shadows. The second thousand I folded when my Dad was first diagnosed with cancer, some eighteen years ago.
I burned them in my favorite cauldron, fairly amazed at the amount of heat generated. His birthday is soon, so I'll take them to the ocean and do my own ritual of remembrance, renewal, and rebirth.
