The Ides

Yesterday it was tsunami devastation and birdsong, today it's radioactive clouds and birdsong. Bloody hell, what next? I have a dear friend whose mother just died, another dear friend whose mother is in hospice, another dear friend who was just laid off, another dear friend who was just kicked out of his office space. Still: the birds are singing, the buds are opening on the tulip magnolia trees, the dogs are frolicking. Tra-la-la.

Me? I'm cleaning closets, almost compulsively, pulling everything out, dusting the shelves, putting everything back. I'm keeping an eye on my friends, sending love in the direction of Japan, baking cakes, softly singing prayers for healing. What else can I do but try to stay grounded?

This era is all about uber ups and uber downs, I know. It's OK. I'm not against upheaval, I'm not against radical change, but I really hate all the suffering, I really do.

Sing it, Sing it, baby

A football field next to a high school. It looks so neat and orderly, unlike the world at this chaotic moment in time.

It was quite the juxtaposition yesterday, looking at photos of the devastation in Japan while simultaneously listening to loud birdsong right outside my window. The thought came to me that birds will keep on singing until the day their species comes to an end. It's spring, hence time to chirp, time to sing.

I remember reading that just prior to the tsunami in 2003, the animals in Sri Lanka and other places moved to higher ground. They felt it coming, and did what they could to avoid it. I wonder if they were frightened. I wonder if, on the morning following the tsunami, the birds in Sri Landa chirped again, as usual, as if everything was normal.

Don't know about you, but I feel that in some way my personal shoreline has been moved slightly by the earthquake. I feel the center of my personal rotation has shifted on its axis by an increment or two. Maybe because I'm a shaman, maybe because I'm a human being, I feel connected to the people in Japan right now, connected to the landscape.

I've read some pieces that refer to the "retaliation" of Mama Gaia, as if the earthquake had anything to do with us. The earth shakes and rolls, erupts, floods, dries out. She always has since long before us. Birds sing and the earth shakes. Same as it ever was. For heaven's sake, though it has its terrible impact on us, this is not about us. My, my.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the people of Japan. And the people of Egypt, Libya, Wisconsin. A friend suggested that those of us so inclined might sing calm prayers for healing. Kind of like the birds, that is my plan for today, between clients. I'll be singing because it's the only thing I can do. I'll be singing. Shalom.

Shake it, shake it baby

7th Street SE at Eastern Market. See the Capitol Dome in the distance?

The good news is that my friend who is in Japan is OK. She's OK. Thank god.

There are quakes and then there are super quakes. According to CNN, yesterday's earthquakes shifted the coast of Japan by two and a half centimetres, and the tilt of the earth's axis by ten centimetres. This link includes footage of the tsunami as well. Bloody hell.

My heart goes out to everyone affected directly by what happened yesterday. That said, I'm relieved this happened in Japan. Unlike Haiti or New Zealand, Japan is a place where they know how to deal with earthquakes, even devastating events like yesterday's. The cities are built to withstand huge shocks, the infrastructure is much more likely to survive, people are far more likely to have the training to deal with the aftermath.

I'm not saying it's GOOD that this happened. No way! I'm simply saying at least it happened somewhere where they expect earthquakes and are prepared. If life were a dream (and it is, it really is), then this event signals the need to step up, be prepared, expect the unexpected. Like I said the other day, for those of us who remember the '60's, the era of radical change (from now to 2018) is going to feel familiar. For kids, it will be what it is - they have nothing to compare it to. For y'all in your 20's, 30's, and 40's, I have plenty of advice, though of course everyone will deal with the energy of change in his/her own way.

Back in the late '60's, the way I dealt with societal upheaval was through serious commitment to sex, drugs and rock 'n roll. The altered perception from doing drugs opened my eyes to the possibility of various forms of reality. The sex was life enhancing. Music was the surfboard on which I rode that crazy wave of change.

These options are no longer interesting to me, except for the rock 'n roll part, of course. What I'm thinking about this morning is doing everything I can to open up the structure of my routines. I need wiggle room in order to negotiate this era. I want to let go of all the ideas I have about who I am and how I like to live, just to see. I want to experiment with new patterns, find out if there's a "lifestyle" (hate that word) that might fit better than the one that has congealed around me since I moved to Capitol Hill ten years ago. Relocating from the house on Tennessee Avenue to the chateau last summer was prescient; now I'm wondering what else I can re-shape in order to meet and greet this era of change.

By 2018, we'll all know how to roll with the punches. I'm inclined to jump head-first into personal reinvention as my dance of shamanic alignment with this historical moment during which we will see vast collective reinvention.

Will you join me? C'mon, you can do it, you can roll with the punches. Yes? I say yes. It's time!

A dear one, a sister of spirit, someone I am friends with, have taught with and who comes to see me for massage, one of the only people I enjoy spending Thanksgiving with, well, she's in Japan right now, on a teaching gig. She's teaching pregnancy yoga on one of the northern islands.

I haven't heard from her yet and I'm scared, though one of her students tagged her in some photos posted on Facebook early this morning. Before or after the earthquake? I don't know.

Marianna, until I hear that you are safe and sound, I will be sending a steady stream of love and protection.

Keeping my fingers crossed.

Indefinite Intentions

It's a rainy day in Washington DC today, a great day to launch into projects I've been putting off, like cleaning out closets before my out of town visitors arrive later this month, or finally sitting down to write about how I would re-assign the planets in astrology (based on what the planets are actually like, from what we've learned about the solar system in the last twenty years or so).

Of course I could clean the chateau - there's always something that needs to be cleaned. Or I could indulge my newly discovered love of baking - though - I've already baked one cake this week. Do I really need to bake TWO cakes? Hmmm.

Or ... I could sit around, watch movies, read blogs, put my feet up and just do a whole lot of nothing.

That last option is tempting, I'll admit it. The week has been exhausting (energetically). As it turns out, I'm not the only one to have sensed the big rush of energy that precedes Uranus's assay into Aries tomorrow.

Sometimes it's good to sit still for awhile. Or not. Clearly the jury is still out on how this day will unfold. Que sera, sera.

Buckle your seatbelts

Can you feel it? A big ole change is coming - even for you, Tom (of Half-Moose with a Twist). The times, they are a-changin'. The energy of this shift is so powerful that my hair is literally standing on end this morning. Whoa. Or should I say wow? Astrologically what it looks like is the planet Uranus moving into Aries on Friday. Sudden, dramatic, unexpected changes will be knocking on your door very soon, unless they're already ongoing.

The tower of power is coming down. Not the Washington Monument, or any manifested tower (that I know about), but the metaphor of the tower of power is about to disintegrate before our eyes. Truth is, it has been coming down for awhile now. In Egypt, Yemen, Libya, in Wisconsin, right here in Washington DC down the street in the Capitol. Holy cow, what a time!

For a visual and some classic interpretative associations with this kind of energy, seen through the lens of the tarot, check this out.

The common wisdom around historical moments like this is to try to relax your body. Breathe, drink water, stretch, get enough sleep. Laugh, please, as if you were riding a big roller coaster.

I think this time of personal and collective re-invention is likely to be hardest for those in their productive and reproductive years. Those of us who are older (and remember the '60's) already know the drill. For children and very young adults, this kind of energy will be easier to negotiate because it just is. They have no other kind of energy to compare it with.

For the 30- and 40-somethings, and the early 50-somethings, cultivating not only the ability to use your iphone while thinking about something else, but also doing yoga and meditating, will help a lot. Embrace the spectrum of calm to fractured. You'll need to call upon every one of those mind/body/spirit spaces to get the most from this time.

Today I'm laughing, kind of hysterically, from the rush of energy. Oh my god. One thing is for sure: the next few years will not be boring. Onwards & upwards. Let's go.

Snap

And so it begins. Spring, I mean. In earnest, the real thing. Spring. Whew. The trees are popping at last. From now on I'll find so many different things to take pictures of. No more stark shadows of branches and trunks. No more pics of the Capitol dome just to make a picture dramatic.

Yesterday was the first day of DC's vernal lushness. It's baby lushness of course, and, too, nothing happens fast in any season here. Spring unfolds slowly, gracefully.

I've got a lot of things rolling around in my mind/heart, so many things I could write about this morning, half formed thoughts, kind of like the almost unravelled buds on the tulip magnolia tree. Almost all these ideas revolve around pain, healing, and the miracle of true forgiveness, but I'll let them take form today while I run errands, walk around, and make dinner for friends tonight.

Happy Fat Tuesday, y'all. Carpe diem!