“What am I gonna do? Where am I gonna go?” This was a rhetorical question, because we both knew he was right, he had no where to go, and the reality was, neither did I. We were sitting in the middle of the ocean, after all. So we said as casual goodbyes as any day. And so I sat clutching my necklace engraved with my children’s names as I examined the library for survival necessities.
The Nine of Swords is like catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror in a solemn moment: messy hair, furrowed brow, inner turmoil painting your appearance, and behind it, a vapid replay of thoughts in your mind. So dramatic.
In the darkness, flowers curl up into their bright colors to reveal the dusty undertones of wrinkled petals. This is my shadow self: a folded flower. Not wilted, but closed, protected. And when the sun rises again, the flower stretches wide open, brightly, bravely, exposed.
It’s so incredibly freeing to imagine a new you. To give yourself permission to let things go, to be reborn. But, unfortunately, (or fortunately) I won’t be waking up a whole new person on January 1st, and neither will you. It’s never worked like that, it never will, and we all know that. Real freedom comes from concentrated efforts and many small, significant changes. So that’s not what it’s really about.
There are a million ways to harm yourself and in various measures. Self talk is one of them and damn near the most important. Because if you can’t believe that you deserve love, and health and prosperity than none of those things will ever be yours.
This is something that brought us together as young girls 20 years ago and again and again as women, and most importantly, as mothers.
We sat there for hours. Lava rock and water. Probably two hour, which is a lot for a child’s attention span, in silence, watching the puddles in the rock turn into tiny worlds right before our eyes.
So here we have world renowned chefs, and fresh local produce, meats and ingredients, wine brought it from around the world. It was the perfect conglomerate to celebrate how things both big and small, near and far, paired, unrelated, spicy, sweet, red, white, eccentric or expected can come together beautifully to make something amazing.
The sky gets prettier somehow in the winter: Darker and deeper, but gentle. When it gets breezy, the clouds move swiftly across the islands, you can watch it sail away… how neat it must be to find an island in the middle of the ocean.