On Letting Go

I had a very well though out blog post about to go up here. Halfway through typing it and feeling sad and sorry for myself, I accidentally deleted it. I get it. Yes. I get it. Let it go. Just let it go. Nothing is forever, the only constant is change. Those that matter will be here, those other folks and the crossing of paths was meant just for that time. So be it.  I was laying in bed last night trying to think about what my lesson at Squid was. What was the point of me being there and what was it I was supposed to learn. It all came to me in a rush, and now I'm processing. I was meant to be there to meet some amazing people, but also understand my true strength and power,  learn patience and kindness. Take nothing personally as everyone has their own journey and battles. Stand strong for what you know to be right. Do it all with a dose of laughter and understanding. Don't give it all away,. I'm learning. Thanks to all the teachers I have had.

Twenty One-Fool's Lesson

I write this twenty-one days before we depart. Twenty-One is the number of the Fool in Tarot [or Zero-into the void]. Twenty One, symbol of the person centered on the object and either on himself.

Twenty one days until I answer the siren call of the West.

Growing up I was obsessed with Laura Ingalls Wilder. I mean OBSESSED. I read and re read those books until they were broken and tattered, smeared with dirty fingerprints. I used to climb up into the Magnolia tree in my Grandparents back yard and read among the birds and leaves, wishing I could be Laura.

The boy and I like modern day pioneers, loading our wagon with precious few possessions for the long journey out west, trailing through the areas of our ancestors. We are deliberately taking the route North then West so I may release the dirt from my Grandfathers grave to mingle with the dirt of his Fathers grave on the Iron Range.

Joe is also taking some of his Father with us since he always wanted to live out West, but left this earth before he had the chance. The plan is to walk the mountains with his ashes until a spot calls out and we respond with a prayer, blessing, and releasing. 

I find the older that I get, the more I become the keeper of my family. I keep the traditions, the stories, the superstitions and the prayers. I find that I identify more with the old spirits and the old ways. I feel that this move is the culmination of the lessons wrought by home, time, and family mingling with the void of releasing.