In therapy: I learn to listen to all of the inner wisdom who’s sound has been on mute.
It has been my 12th projection year until my birthday. Which recently passed. Let me tell you. Despite my moon being there and being in that energy most of my life. TO have this focus on speaker is very different. Most of my 12th house projection years have had some really hard experiences. Some traumatic. The ages are 11,23,35,47,59. Thank back on your own life. As I will consider all that these years brought me. Most times it has been change, a lack of safety, emotional disarray. This time I can say it was perhaps the bubbling up of many things shoved in the subconscious closet. The 12th house is a place for the mind but not exactly just this —it is the space where the life we live (6th house-11th house) our day to day, community, work, what we are known for publicly, but also projections and expectations, what we lose to gain, or what is gained as we lose, our community & friends. All of it gathers in our psyche.
For me as it closed out with oddities — I realize — there have been things that never belonged in the hallway of my subconscious. The bones in the closet were fake ones. Things that I placed and assigned a truth that maybe once was mine, but is no longer. To revisit the past has been a useful tool — I was worried about what I would find maybe some resentment, maybe something more awful than I thought. But the truth is — what I stuffed back there was joy, its remembrance, its actuality, its bountifulness. The intentions of joy. My therapist read back to me some of the things. I was told to Dance the night away, be present in the joy that is bone deep, life IS good, even if the execution of some of it is a maddening plot twist. I have been fed, remember to receive. Receive. I have a friend, and now I have many.
Sometimes there turns we are taken in our day to day get a grey, Eyesore has been my default outlook. Everything with a hue of grey smushed between an either or/all or nothing perception. 35 taught me — turn around —-the grass IS greener on the other side. To focus on sorrow is to rob myself of the intended joy. The current joy that may feel too small to see but it is there.
Silencing my suffering has never been of use. It has never brought me healing. It erupts somewhere in my body. It is easy to overlook hardship when you are busy being resilient. But that my friends is not the squishy life. Acknowldedgin, telling someone, telling yourself, celebrating that damn you are still her —is where we find all of the ways back to now. I am not all that has been, it is a part of me but not every part. I am too vast.
Joy has been a complex & abstract thing to grasp more than lately. I have lost my way, added fear to the gloom and it has led to spirals. But that was yesterday’s age. It doesn’t go away but I can focus on my full cups as I have observed the stagnancy of empty ones for too long.
We come into the malleable nature of life—my squishy life. Where there is discomfort but overall joy.
Cheers to 36 — its time to turn around and let the sun see me.
p.s.
I will be teaching virtually. Poetry as Spellwork in October — speculative poetry lens. Any level is welcome. I will be have a focus on afrofutursim as the lens. Support myself and Abode Press! See you oct 19.
