“Awakening
her eyelids still
half-closed
she says she has dreamed
of a carpet
all in shreds, in tatters”

Though finding connections across mediums and realities is where I most often find solace, these days I’m usually left laughing in disbelief. Discovery when I am cramped, cold, and marooned in the northeast is about as great a gift as I can muster. If you don’t already, I sincerely hope you start carrying one small book around with you or leave underneath your pillow. You might find a line like this, to leave on a park bench or receipt, like I even might. 

One of Leo’s tarot cards, the Sun speaks to awakening and wisdom. As Rachel Pollack writes:

The spring sun brings forth life out of the dead winter ground. In many places, it was believed that the sun impregnates not only the soil, but all women…The sunstruck person sees everything, each person, each animal, all the plants and rocks, even the very air, alive, and holy, united through the light that fills all existence.

Pollack goes on to explain that, while we perceive this unification in Trump 19, it isn’t until we reach The World in Trump 21 that it is truly embodied. I believe this card appears for us today, in this Imbolc offering, to tell us to not only open our eyes to the opportunities and passions being presented (Leo energy), but to go deep “in the belly,” into our deep sacred feminine, and create ways to truly embody this wisdom in the world (Aquarian energy).
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What is waiting there, in your gut? What light shines there? How can you let it roar? How can you help others find their call?
 
I roar with you, dear ones, now and forever. 

The last facet I want to explore this month is the signs. This Blue Hunter’s Moon is in Taurus and occurring in Scorpio season. I couldn’t love this combination more because both embody the mother/hunter duality in such bold and different ways.

Let’s start with our sweet baby Tauruses. Tauruses, ruled by love-planet Venus, are fixed Earth signs that often get pigeon-holed as purely comfort creatures, lounging in fleece pajamas eating pizza and watching their favorite Netflix series. Well...yeah, that’s true. But Tauruses are also practical, loving, mothering, and fierce. Their ruling planet allows them to see beauty and hope when others cannot. And let’s not forget, they are bulls, ready to defend and protect whenever someone is dumb enough to provoke them.

Scorpios are fixed water signs ruled by Pluto and Mars. Scorpios are often stereo-typed as deeply emotional, stinging, and highly sexual. Again, this isn’t wrong, but Scorpios are also very loyal, loving people. They are honest, authentic, and will ask the tough questions when no one else will. They are also scorpions, and can strike when the time calls for it.

What does all of this mean for our Blue Hunter’s Moon? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: We must learn how to be multi-dimensional in our practices as artists, allies, and humans. This astrological pairing gives us so many ways to ground, explore, and press on, such as:

• We can remember to care for physical well-being and earthly homes, as well as our deep spiritual/emotional health.
• We can push forward with practical, grounded precision, while also dreaming up new ways of life on this planet.
• We can mother and care for those around us, while not allowing for complacency in the work.

This full moon, Taurus and Scorpio encourage us to ask: How can I hold myself accountable with love and compassion? 

Sit comfortably at your altar. Under the light of the moon.
Light three candles: white, black, & blue.
Protect yourself & your circle, burn sage & cast salt.
Once safe, place a handkerchief around your eyes, blocking out all light.
In the darkness, reclaim the pit. This is yours & no one can harm you here.
Invite four guests: ancestors & guides. Speak their names.
Offer them wine, tea, something to eat.
Ask for the tools you’ll need in this next phase:
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    The first gives you a tool of sustenance
    The second a weapon for the hunt
    The third a map of your heart
    The last whispers a strategy in your ear

Thank them for their gifts & for visiting.

Open your eyes, looking directly at the moon. What are the last messages it provides to you?
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Write or create for a designated amount of time. Document what you were gifted. Document all that was discussed. Create art from these gifts. Set an intention for your hunt in the coming month.

Happy Samhain, dear ones. 

Hello, dear collective. How are you holding up? I’ll be honest, the last few weeks have been something of a breaking point for me. Leo season is over and I’ve felt my lion’s optimism transform into Virgo’s sharp criticism. My fiery passion and love for humanity has mutated into hours of disgust and disdain, especially in light of Jacob Blake, the hatred and actions of white supremacist militias, and the consistently disturbing words of defense for both.

But, alas, just like every sign, extreme criticism is only the shadow side of dynamic Virgos. For all of their judiciousness, they are also badass achievers. They get stuff done, and we need this energy more than ever, with the protests raging on, the U.S. presidential election around the corner, and Black and Brown bodies still being murdered in the streets. We need the undying focus of our dear Virgos, even when we are heartbroken or just flat out done with humans.
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Virgos, as sharp as they seem, are mutable Earth signs, meaning that they have a flexibility and fluidity that other signs do not. They have their feet on the ground, but can adapt in practical ways. The full moon on the 2nd is a Pisces moon, also a mutable sign. Pisces are the eldest of the signs, and being a mutable water, are able to expand and imagine emotions and dreams. These two energies colliding this week tells me that this moon is asking us to work hard, dream harder, and stay on our toes in the process. We cannot alone survive in the psychic dream world that Pisces resides in, and we can’t sustain in the purely analytical or logical. We must combine the two to practically execute the new world that we dream up together.

This is especially apt considering this full moon is also the Corn Moon. The Corn Moon is unique in that it only happens every three years when the September full moon occurs at the beginning of the month, allowing the Harvest Moon to appear at the beginning of October (near the Autumnal Equinox) and the Blue Moon on Halloween/Samhain. The Corn Moon is a moon of abundance, home, hearth, and preparation for winter. It is a much needed breath and a small prayer of gratitude before the next leg of the journey.
Though many are keeping their eyes focused on January 1st, ready to put this dumpster-fire-of-a-year in the rearview mirror, this moon and season change (to me) seems like a pre-new beginning. A student at heart, this month has always been so transformative, creating a shift in my mindset to prepare for new lessons.

And though it looks a lot different this year, with students sitting in front of screens instead in the coziness of classrooms, it IS a new school year. And even if you aren’t a parent or student yourself, I’m sure you are feeling the differences in other ways: instead of going to work, you might be home. Instead of planning holiday travels, you might be mentally preparing for holidays without family. It is sad and weird and seemingly never ending. But I do believe that this full Corn Moon is reminding us that, no matter how different things are, we can always find new ways to be grateful. We can always dream up new ways of coming (or making) homes.

And isn’t home always finding new forms? Home is not just house you live in, but also your body, your spirit, your community, your creativity. Though the idea of home in this pandemic, with so many of us in solitude, might feel claustrophobic, these homes are ours, and that alone is a gift and a privilege. In this world of dictators and fascists, we have a place that can all at once be sanctuary and workplace—a truth they can’t take from us.

So, how do we remind ourselves of this in the uphill battles? In last month’s workshop, Marie Conlan invited us to engage in delight as a form of extreme presence. During this conversation, she invoked Audre Lorde’s “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power,” in which Lorde writes:

For the erotic is not a question only of what we do; it is a question of how acutely and fully we can feel in the doing.

Once we know the extent to which we are capable of feeling that sense of satisfaction and completion, we can then observe which of our various life endeavors bring us closest to that fullness. The aim of each thing which we do is to make our lives and the lives of our children richer and more possible.

Within the celebration of the erotic in all our endeavors, my work becomes a conscious decision, a longed-for bed which I enter gratefully and from which I rise up empowered….

I am speaking here of the necessity for reassessing the quality of all the aspects of our lives and of our work, and of how we move toward and through them. The very word erotic comes from the Greek word eros, the personification of love in all its aspects - born of Chaos, and personifying creative power and harmony.

How can we practically and methodically dream up and execute what fulfills us so that we (and our work) can emerge rested, renewed, and ready? From my understanding of this moon’s energy, Lorde’s words, and Marie’s wisdom, it is by creating routines that allow for delight—which is to say, love.

In an attempt to test this hypothesis, I accepted the challenge this morning. I was in the shower, picking imaginary fights with my partner for leaving his hair in the drain, focusing on the tasks I should or must complete. I decided right there to create a moment of delight. I began singing a song. Afterwards, instead of sitting at my desk right away, I made time for yoga and meditation. I made banana bread so that the house would smell delicious when I began work. I sat in the sun to write this to you. I purposefully shifted towards satisfaction, and by doing so, realized that I had been completely disconnected from my body and spirit the last few weeks. I am grieving this now, but I am also so relieved to have found myself again.

I don’t tell you this as some kind of pep talk, or to make it seem like I know at all what I’m doing. I don’t think any of us really know what we are doing at the moment. But I do share this as an example of the small rituals this Corn Moon offers us: momentary reprieve and reconnection.

When I hear the word corn, I can’t help but think of a hearty meal around a warm table with people I love. And, as Darrah Hewlett writes of Virgos (represented by the image of the Virgin), “In astrology, the virgin is one who serves others. She bears a staff of wheat, which stands for ‘the utilization of ideas and skills to benefit (nourish) the world.’” This is not to say we need this kind of comfort (food) all the time. I believe it is important, especially right now, for us to shed our comfort zones and level-up as allies. But we always need, as Lorde explains, to observe which of our various life endeavors bring us closest to that fullness. Even in the difficult or the mundane, we must be nourished.
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For this Full Corn Moon in Pisces, I challenge you to practice making room for dreams—dreams of what the world can be, dreams of what you can be, dreams of what your art can be—and then methodically go after those dreams with Virgo’s tenacity. Remember that this doesn’t always have to be huge, global dreams. The key to sustaining in the work is to dream up fulfillment in the everyday. How can your mornings bring you joy? How can you light small sparks of loving delight in new routines? 

This is one of my favorite cards in this deck. Marie White painted a black wolf to represent our wildness and subconscious—this deep, psychic part of ourselves that we often fear, or are taught to fear. But what if we coexist with her? We might not want her to run wild all the time, but she deserves to be present on the other side of the balance. She deserves to help lead us through the forest.

The 7 of Cups is a card of vision/illusion. Vision if you are willing to put the energy and grind into manifesting your intentions, illusion if you sit back and let the dream pass you by. As White writes in the deck’s accompanying text:

Reality has laws but they can be bent, like light, by changing your self. In becoming a master of your subconscious you seek to shape your reality in accordance with what you want to achieve in life, to reach your highest potential. It is a temperate theory; it isn’t just about changing yourself and it isn’t just about changing reality but a little of both meeting somewhere in the middle. To acknowledge that reality isn’t what it seems, it is actually very nuanced and complex, and at any given time our consciousness can only wakingly perceive a small portion of it, like the visible light-wave spectrum, there is much more that you can’t see.

This card alongside the full Corn Moon tells me that we might be viewing our world, our reality, and ourselves in a tunnel. We might have blinders on, unable to integrate the Piscean energy of dreaming beyond the confines of survival. And the wolf might be the part of ourselves, our fierce, passionate, creative wild that is being locked away as a result of this perception. Trust yourself (which is also the wolf) to create the most exalted and fulfilling path.
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As always, I’m sending you love and glittering sparkles of delight in the coming cycle. 

I think of Akilah Oliver’s words often. I first encountered Oliver’s work at Naropa University—where I studied her flesh memory: the she said dialogues and listened to her archive as I practiced and wrote/performed into the space of healing ancestral trauma—how to exercise the ghosts that haunt our bodies.

As a community member of collective.aporia, and as a poet and artist, I want to document my experience (share this account for the archive) at a Black Lives Matter march in Portland, Oregon, as a way to discuss the notion of healing collective grief. This continues to be at the forefront of my own artistic (activist) practice as we are confronted yet again with the reminder that the policing of this country disregards Black lives with the recent shooting of Jacob Blake.

I’m currently living in Portland, Oregon, and for many of us, 2020 has been a tumultuous year of transformation. Daily I’m thankful to witness the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement. This resistance gives me hope. Many of us have been moved in spite of Covid-19 to join the countless BLM marches and protests throughout the nation at such a crucial and pivotal time. The following are notes on funeral marches as a way to protest in Portland, Oregon (a former white utopia).

We walked slowly, weaving through empty SE Portland streets, chanting “march with us”— towards Cleveland High School where just last year the school faced a “series of incidents” that included a noose and a blackface cake.
We were among hundreds of people in the streets, trying to practice social distancing, wearing masks, searching for the grief in each other’s eyes, moving together at the same pace, pausing sometimes to make sure we were safe—altogether, holding signs overhead, shouting “Black Lives Matter.”

Moving together, I could feel our collective grief. I could feel myself hold back tears and could also feel the tears in everyone’s shouts, screams, crying out: “No Justice, No Peace.” Over the hours we moved together, my stomach was tense, my feet ached, and as we began to sing, a feeling of déjà vu overwhelmed me to tears. It was as if my ancestors had also taken the streets like I was—or they at least dreamed about voicing their dissent and disappointment in humanity.

Heartbroken we sang together, “Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me ‘Round”—a Black spiritual that entered my body and emerged from my throat. After singing this spiritual and committing the words to memory, a quick search brought me to the words of Bernice Johnson Reagon:

Black singing is running sound through your body. You cannot sing a spiritual and not change your condition.

These words appeared in P. Kimberleigh Jordan’s “‘Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Round’: Spirituals as Embodied Acts of Resistance”—reminding us that “for nearly four centuries, people of the African descent in the Diaspora expressed their presence, pain, desires, and hopes through the repertoire of spirituals.” The collective presence and performance at the BLM march was/is participating in this legacy of healing the pain of the past and present.

I sit with these words and think of Tracie Morris’s “Africa(n)” and I come full circle to Akilah Oliver’s invitation to “let Blackness into your heart.” Blackness is the griot giving us permission to weep for the dead.

This notion of Blackness, resistance, and community brings me to consider how the BLM march functioned in a similar way as a ritual. I think about Malidoma Somé’s writing around ritual: “In a tribal community, healing of the village happens in ritual.”

While Portland, OR is far from a tribal community, as a woman and creative of color I walked away from that BLM march protesting the murder of Black lives, racism in public schools, while also paying homage by chanting the names of countless lives lost—in a way, collectively performing final funeral rites for these Black lives. I continue to walk around Portland humming those songs, reminding myself that these experiences allow for our collective to grieve and move this grief through the collective body so that real healing can begin. You could say I’m self- soothing as I hum these songs to myself and the Portland city streets as I feel how the community continues to burn in grief, in fear. For this reason, the protest songs—or spirituals—these Black Lives Matter (funeral) marches that contain elements of ritual, hold and heal the community each time we take to the streets and listen to the words and songs of BIPOC community members.
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This account of a crier at a BLM march, aims to write into the space of grief and how we hold and move grief through our bodies—in this case, by attending a BLM march, joining my community in song. While we are bombarded by images and stories of trauma, while we move slowly through this long hot summer into an uncertain fall, may we also remember to move and speak with the intention to heal these deep ancestral wounds. This is an account of a brief moment where I caught a glimpse of hope for our local community meeting together to heal deep collective grief. These moments hold space for all the tragically beautiful, moving music and art, all the transformative collectives and organizations that have and will continue to emerge from this uprising, grief, and revolution.

Once, in now what seems like a different life, I became connected to a man whose moon in Aquarius. I say “connected” because, at the time, I thought I might be in love. But even then, I knew it was a love that felt different than romance. I also say connected because I still love and treasure this person, who I now consider a soul-friend.

In an attempt to understand my love for him, I asked a past-life reader if he and I had ever shared lives together. She explained that he had been in my life many times, and often showed up a guide before long voyages. In one life, she explained, I had been a researcher going to uncharted lands on his ship. He had prepared me for this journey, practically and emotionally, helping me to survive and thrive in the strange waters and lands I was traversing.

When I think of our Full Moon in Aquarius in this Leo season, I think of my friend and the voyages he has helped me complete. Moon in Aquarius asks us to prepare, purge, and purify. To rise up and out of the drama and ill-built thought/emotional patterns we have constructed for and of ourselves. To analyze the why, instead of being distracted by the what. And while this process can seem detached or even cold sometimes, it is a challenge to find our higher selves so that we may complete the next leg of our journeys in new and creative ways.

And now that we are in Leo season, it is safe to say that we need this energy. I myself am a Leo, and like any good Leo, I love my birthday season. This period of summer has always been one of ignition—every big decision I’ve made, every big move, every new project or adventure, starts here. But I will be the first to admit that we Leos (and the energy we bring to this month) can be…dramatic. Luckily, even though the approaches are vastly different, Leo energy and Aquarian energy share one common goal: the protection and betterment of the community.

This full moon in Aquarius reminds us that there is no time for the more egocentric qualities of Leo season. Though this summer is arguably one of the heaviest our society has seen in some time, it can still be easy to get distracted by the intoxicating qualities only the end of summer carries. But we are also in the middle of a revolution, and that requires us to level up, as a few of my friends call it. We must shed old cycles, harmful ancestral patterns, and our silly distractions in order to be fully present in ourselves and the work.

This full moon also occurs square Uranus. Uranus is the planet of independence, liberation, and enlightenment. When the moon is square Uranus, we are being asked to take a critical eye to the way we define our “self,” not to stifle or silence, but to shed the aspects of ourselves that are false or weighty. As Café Astrology writes, by doing so, the result is the ability to “harness your magnetism, your originality, and your creative talents for all time.”

Which brings me to my last thought about this moon. In the collective.aporia August workshop, Harnessing Delight, facilitator Marie Conlan said this week that delight is less about “these really grand, wonderful moments” and more “speaks to, or connects with, or validates our experience of our lives, our experience of the here and now. [Delight] witnesses us and it is a way to ground ourselves into the present moment…It shows us if we are listening.”

Even in the midst of uprising and a pandemic, Leo season is a joyful time. And though this full moon in Aquarius might be asking us to do some tough work on ourselves, I encourage us to reframe this work as presence, rather than sacrifice. Because each day we get to fully be with ourselves and our communities is a gift. Each day we notice the small things, like the sweetness of a kiss or the taste of coffee, is beautiful. Each day we grow and evolve towards our highest self is a happy, victorious day. And each day we refine our magnetism and creative gifts to be used for the progress of our community is an act of rebellion—against those who want to crush our spirits; against the rhetoric telling us the only way forward is through the old ways of the colonizers and oppressors; against the shadow voices in our heads telling us we are not worthy, or are not able, to create real change.
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Relish in this big Leo energy. Be grounded in the moments of joy and play you curate for yourself and your community. Channel the Aquarian moon to examine the parts of yourself you can leave here, in the sun-soaked finale of summer. Collect and treasure what you keep, and thank what you leave behind. And when you rise, refreshed and invigorated, ask yourself how your renewed creativity and inspiration can help recreate the world. 

The Ace of Wands is one of pure, passionate potential. For those unfamiliar, Leo is the cardinal fire sign, and wands represents the element of fire in the tarot deck. Fire is synonymous with creativity, sexuality, passion, and divine spark. This card tells us that the fires within us, within our bellies, have been ignited and are burning full force. We are bursting with new ideas, are hungry for new paths, and ache for new ways of doing things.

I especially love this image from Marie White’s Mary El Tarot Deck. It shows the lions face moving back and forth between a state of solace and roaring, which I interpret as an exploration of the forms that passion (which can also look like fierce protection or rage) can take, and how they can be useful at different times. Also, in thinking of our Aquarian moon, I really love that this figure has Hawk wings. Aquarius, the cardinal air sign, and Leo’s cardinal fire, are meeting here, in this moment, within us.

So what are we going to do about it?

White writes of this card:

Spiritually this card is the seed of your strength. You may not know the full magnitude of what divine strength you have until the very end when you have moved it and channeled it through a more oppressive and all surrounding earth and claimed it as your own; discovering and building it into something amazing in your life, the full potential of your will, or your self.

Aces are the beginning. They are pure and unharnessed. This card is asking us to utilize the more refined Aquarian energy to help direct this magnificent fire. If we do, like the swift hawk, we will know exactly where to fly next.

Resources:
Cafe Astrology
​Poets.org
The Mary-El Tarot: Landscapes of the Abyss by Marie White

Last night, under the gaze of the Capricorn Buck Moon, a few of us gathered around an outdoor table for a dinner of celebration and goodbye. One of our dear friends leaves Tuesday to return for the first time back to central Africa where he was born. Adopted and raised in France, this is a spiritual journey for him—to return to his long lost family and the spiritual power that runs in his veins, his grandmother once a shaman of his tribe.

As we discussed the future, we all gazed upon our friend with wonder, excitement, sadness, and fear. We wrapped him in joy and blessings and protection. Though we all will miss him dearly over the next few months, we know that he is embarking on a necessary, beautiful, and powerful journey of growth and change.

On the drive home, I couldn’t help but think about how growth is often so painful. When the body grows quickly, the body responds with aches. However, no matter how painful, the growth is necessary to become what we were meant to be.

The Buck Moon signifies the season when male deer grow antlers. Though this seems to happen almost overnight, it is actually a process that begins months before. Male deer have two spots on their skulls called pedicles that produce antlers. The antlers begin to sprout in the spring and are covered by a fuzzy-looking skin called velvet. The velvet is specialized to help the antlers grow, and is filled with blood vessels that help transport blood, oxygen, and essential nutrients to the pedicles. The velvet is extremely vulnerable, and during the growth period the deer try to protect the velvet at all costs. The antlers grow quickly during this period, and after the velvet sheds from the antlers, the male deer use them to protect, gain status, and find mates.

I can’t help but compare this process to my country, the USA, and the powerful uprising against systemic racism and white supremacy that is occurring. I think of how love and rage is a tool that is grown and channeled for change and revolution. Many Americans living with blinders of privilege are shocked by these protests, as if they have happened overnight, but this process has been growing and building and sustaining for hundreds of years. We are witnessing a momentous moment, when the movement is fully formed and charging ahead, to protect and to demand equity. To stop the murder of black and brown bodies once and for all.

This is not to say that these populations are not vulnerable—we have a lot of work left to do before People of Color are safe from the murderous practices of oppressors, and it is the job of allies and accomplices to use our privilege to protect and support them at all costs. But there is no doubt that the movement itself is stronger than ever before, with protests happening in all 50 states, as well as internationally, for the first time in history. The velvet of the movement has shed; the movement is charging head (and heart) first, and there is no stopping it.

Which is why this moon occurring in Capricorn is essential. Capricorn is a cardinal earth sign, meaning Caps are often considered the most rooted, practical, hardworking, and no-nonsense of the zodiac. They are very good at building structures and systems, but also are the first to recognize when a system is unfair. As Lauren McCarthy and Gala Mukomolova write:

Capricorn represents societal structures and when Capricorn hosts Pluto, Jupiter, and Saturn all conjunct and retrograde, Capricorn isn’t just looking to remodel — it’s looking to burn down the tower. Capricorn, at its wisest, knows that a structure that serves the people outside it and diminishes those within it is a prison and prisons are obsolete.

This full moon also coincides with the last lunar eclipse of the season. Lunar eclipses ask us to let go of beliefs and systems that are holding us back. While the movement is charging forward, demanding larger systems of government and power to dismantle and rebuild, to confess and to pay reparations, it is also asking each individual to do the same internally. We all carry racism. I’ll say that again. We ALL carry racism. And we all have the power to grow and change and actively fight against those conditioned teachings.
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So, dear readers, if you feel like you are just starting to sprout antlers in your anti-racism work, understand that this is a vulnerable time. You might feel that you covered in sensitive velvet, feeling every shadow and recognition of privilege and power and your role within it. Be kind and patient with this growth, because it is necessary to become what you are meant to be—a beautiful creature able and ready to protect yourself and your global family from hate; charging forth to tear down systems that oppress and attempt to destroy marginalized communities. 

The 9 of Swords is traditionally considered one of the most difficult in Tarot. It is a card of overwhelming fear and anxiety, and reversed, this fear and anxiety is located within the self. But I do not want you to be afraid of this card, because, to me, it is a perfect reflection of the work we are doing and must continue to do at all costs. This card speaks directly to what this full moon in Capricorn is asking of the collective—to burn down oppressive structures.

Many mindsets are structures created by those in power. The same harmful systems we see operating in the world live within us, and we call it our identity.
 
We are often unknowingly carrying the words, rhetoric, and beliefs of systems of oppression. And, even the most privileged among us, suffer because of these mindsets. Racism is an illness that hurts everyone. If you are in the midst of some disturbing epiphanies about the toxic mindsets you carry, please know that you are not alone. As Marie White writes of the 9 of Swords:

Pressure. In the temporal world everything is, like Air, between the polar elements of Fire and water which applies pressure. It is pressure, difficulty, challenge, the struggle for life and death, between good and bad, that creates everything as we know it. It forces direction and evolution. A tiger is as beautiful as it is because of the pressures of its environment, the sheer hardship of its life temper it into the perfect vision of strength and perfect form. Pressure causes beatify, health, and Justice. It presses order from chaos…Without pressure illness and stagnation ensures. And so, Swords and Air can be seen as hard and harsh, but it is health and creates beauty and perfection. It presses our soul into the finest gold.
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Please know that this fear, anxiety, and pain is necessary. Please know that the pressure we feel is a step towards evolution. Please know that the collective pressure being put on systems of power is integral to equity and peace. We are feeling these growing pains, dear readers, and we will come out the other side more powerful than ever before, because we are united with the collective in a force more prevailing than hate, prejudice, or oppression—we are united in love. 

Bibliomancy | Excerpts from pages 310-311 from The Healing Wisdom of Africa: Finding Life Purpose Through Nature, Ritual, and Community by Malidoma Patrice Somé