I had my tarot cards read by Devyn before I drove south from him, and the current situation I'm dealing with was the 8 of Swords which is a pros pro.
That was about two weeks ago; then yesterday, Brezsney's astrology column came out:
While riding my bicycle through a quiet neighborhood this afternoon, I saw two girls fiddling with the gate of a tall wooden fence. They were frustrated because it wouldn't open and let them inside. One kicked the gate. The other tried unsuccessfully to climb up to reach down over the top to the latch on the other side. Finally, the younger girl put her hand under the gate and managed to free some obstruction on the other side. The gate opened. "I got it! I got it!" she yelled, jumping up and down with exhilarated triumph. I foresee those words and that emotion flying out of you soon when you, too, finally open a metaphorical door that has been stuck.
So that's some kind-of intense congruousness and seems to be in conjunction with my life right now.
I came back from Toronto really wanting, really determined, to find my roots again. Internally I keep railing against all the concrete surrounding me while trying to balance it with the knowledge that it's all impermanence and beneath the concrete lives what I'm seeking. I'm standing right on top of it at all times, even when I'm 25 stories high in the air.
As much as I tell myself these things, the desperation boiling inside me is pretty intense.
I'm surrounding myself with Goddess images and knowledge of the moon. I'm working as steadily as possible to create and find me again. I know I'm here, somewhere. I might be on the beach on the north side, watching cold heavy waves eat at hard sand. I might standing taught in the wind, silently listening to the century old maples still standing in some parks. I might not even be in this city. I might not even be in my body. Where ever I am though, I'm not really moving no matter how much I try to budge. I have to let the universe take care of this one and just keep going along, as I am.