My Chaotic Realm

 At Imbolc I told myself: I did not rush the thaw. I let it come at my own pace, in my own way. February proved that was true. There were quiet mornings, shared meals, sunrise coffee, wrens waking the cardinals, moments of joy I did not force, only allowed. And now the full moon rises. We woke at 3:30 in the morning, rested enough, and left the kids’ driveway at 4am,, coffee in hand, the road dark and open ahead of us. A weekend of family, grandchildren, old friends, noise, food, and careful conversations behind us. On the way home, the notice came... work has separated me, effective today. I waited for fear. I waited for anger. Instead, I felt steady.  Tomorrow’s Worm Moon breaks the ground open whether we feel ready or not. The thaw does not ask permission. It only insists that life will move again. My life shook once more, like an Etch-a-Sketch in someone else’s hands. But the screen is clear now, and this time I am holding it. Nine months stretches ahead of me — not empty,...

February did not roar. It did not explode into transformation. It thawed. This was the month I stopped gripping. At the beginning of the month, I was still inside the tight container of work stress — rotating through understaffed shifts, holding more than was mine, carrying payroll problems on my nervous system like they were a moral failing. And then something subtle shifted. I began separating what was mine from what was not. There was a day when I felt the anger fully — the hot, justified kind — and instead of swallowing it, I named it. That anger wasn’t volatility. It was a boundary, forming bones. And then came relief. Not fireworks relief...Body relief. The kind where your shoulders drop without you telling them to. I chose to resign. I chose to step out of consensus and into alignment. An oracle message echoed all month:  “Don’t worry about the effects of going against the grain. When we are who we are in truth, we attract the support, protection, and energy we need to thriv...