My Chaotic Realm

There is a particular kind of moon that doesn’t feel like an ending, but like a turning of the head. This one arrives as a Blue Full Moon in Sagittarius — a second full moon in a single month, rare and slightly electric, as if the sky is reminding me that perspective can shift more than once in the same breath. Sagittarius is the sign of the arrow: not just motion, but intention. Direction. Faith in what has not yet been reached. And I feel that theme here — not as certainty, but as orientation. Not everything is resolved. Not everything is clear. But something in me is no longer circling the question in the same way. Something has started to point . Aiming the arrow before summer fully opens. There is a difference between rushing forward and recognizing where life is already asking to be aimed. This feels like the second thing. The month behind me has been full of noticing — of tending, sorting, responding, adjusting. Not dramatic, but deeply formative in its own way. The kind of shap...

Today’s New Moon arrived in Taurus at 3:01 p.m., and it felt less like a spark and more like a deep exhale into the Earth itself. Not every beginning arrives like lightning. Some begin like roots. Some begin quietly, beneath the surface, where no one applauds the work being done. This moon reminded me that growth is not always dramatic. Sometimes transformation looks like stability returning to the body. Sometimes it looks like rest. Sometimes it looks like allowing myself to stop gripping so tightly to certainty and trusting that the ground beneath me is already holding my weight. The mountain is not standing alone above the Earth. It rises because the Earth holds it. This was from my I-Ching reading. I kept turning that thought over today as I observed the New Moon in Taurus. How often have I mistaken support for weakness? How often have I believed I needed to carry everything alone in order for my strength to “count”? But Taurus teaches differently. The mountain is steadfast not be...

 This month does not arrive as a single clear turning. It arrives in layers—like weather systems crossing the same sky. Beltane on one hand: movement, participation, the steady return of life asking to be lived out loud again. And beneath it, the Flower Moon in Scorpio: depth, emotional honesty, and the quiet dismantling of anything that can’t stay true under closer light. Nothing about it is separate. It all happens at once. April saw me showing up in the middle of ordinary obligations that still carried weight. Delivering our older RV to a stranger so 3 children could “camp out” for the first time, managing the logistics of it, and moving through the practical realities of change—these were not small things. They were acts of coordination, release, and responsibility all at once. Life asking for attention in measurable, physical ways. I joined a small writing group—standing inside uncertainty, sharing something I wasn’t fully sure I wanted to reveal, and discovering afterward tha...

Days roll fast now like they're late for something. News like gravel in the mouth. Opinions like knives for nothing. I scroll past stories that aren't even mine. And still my chest tightness like I'm the one on the front line. I've learned the world can feel like a loud machine that never shuts off, never lets you breathe. And I'm not asking for a perfect life, just a corner of the day. Where my shoulders drop. Where my mind stops standing guard. Peace isn't a luxury. It's survival with dignity. I want a quiet harbor in the middle of this sea. Not escape, just home to be. Let the world keep shouting. Let it spill what it spills. I want a quiet harbor. Will my soul get still? Build me a table, two honest voices, a small prayer without fear. A night that doesn't demand choices. I don't need more speed. I need more days. I don't need to win the war. I need peace. in my breath. The strongest task of the day is refu...

I did not brace against the wind this month. I let it move through me and around me. There were moments of standing in public witness— signs raised, voices joined, honks and waves reminding me that even small bodies in motion are part of something larger. There were moments of quiet tending— palms gathered and placed, spaces prepared, traditions held not as obligation but as living threads I chose to carry. There were moments of almost-losing and gentle finding— a misplaced wallet, a retraced path, the reminder that not everything lost is gone, and not everything found needs to be dramatic. There was food made and shared, tables extended, grief given a chair and a plate, and gratitude spoken in the presence of absence. There was laughter in ordinary places— a wheelbarrow assembled to the sound of questions and answers, hands busy, hearts light, joy arriving without announcement. There was responsibility accepted— not as a burden, but as a steadying of hands around somethi...

I was following. Not lost—just not leading. Two cars ahead of me, people I knew, people I trusted. I stayed behind them, watching where they turned, letting their movement shape mine. At some point, I left my own car. I climbed across hoods—awkward, exposed, determined—and slipped into theirs. First one, then another. I was welcomed. I belonged there. I knew how to be with each of them, how to fit, how to move between spaces without friction. But when I arrived in the lead car, someone looked at me and asked, “Who are you?” And I didn’t answer for myself. I pointed backward to the car in the middle. “Ask her.” As if I could be explained by someone else. As if my place was something reflected, not rooted. Still, we arrived. A gathering of women. Like-minded. Aligned. The kind of place that feels like an exhale you didn’t know you were holding. And I knew, without question, I belonged there too. But then—quietly, without panic—I realized: I didn’t have my car. At some point, in all the m...