Seems impossible that it’s time for Best Of lists and “Auld Lang Syne.” Time flies. Every year faster. Time melts. When you live in a city where a collection of Dali’s work is a crown jewel, time melts is a concept confronted on a regular basis.
Three years ago, in the depths of a depression, I contracted for an Ayurvedic astrological chart, one of the few flavors of astrological readings I had not yet explored. “Yes, I see you’re depressed now,” the consultant emphasized, “but 2016 is going to be your year.” From my 2013 depression, the beacon of 2016 was dim at best.
I’ve been consulting psychics for as long as I’ve been able to drive, and astrologers since I discovered the serious side of the practice. Every reading holds an element of the same: You’re special, you came here to do good work, big work, important work. All of this was easier to believe when I was younger.
For now, all I want to do is write. For now, I’m happy that the only judge of the product is my own exacting high standards. Maybe I’m blessed not to have an impatient publisher. Alone at night, taping on a keyboard that my fingers have worn the letters from, I imagine I’m doing big work, important work, good work.
So by Ayurvedic calculations, 2016 is going to be my year. Except, Feng Shui analysis says my Water Tiger will be severely challenged by the Fire Monkey who enters in February. And my western astrologer warns that all the good she saw for clients in 2015 failed to materialize. It’s like a pall of dark has settled over the earth. Not that current events lend any credibility to that assessment. No sirree.
2016. Bring it on. My Marilyn Monroe year, where all eyes on me. Sure. Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway. 2016 will pass in the blink of an eye. The world will still be in crisis. And the world will remain.
That is good, and big, and important for everyone to remember.
I totally get the frustration of waiting on prophesies . . . it’s not like they really stick to their timetables (or my timetables to be more honest). Astological and spiritual time seems to be a little more fluid than the tick tick tick of my brain, internal monkey circus, anxiety. I whole-heartedly believe that your work in this world is meant to be important. I want to remind you (because you know this – and you know a lot about a lot) that the designation of “important” is hard to realize if you haven’t settled on which value system you will use to evaluate the work. Will you use the western value system that really means $s? Will you value what is spiritually/eternally valuable? Personally enriching? Because those all look like really different things? I would find it frustrating to think about the big picture like that – which is why I perhaps choose to just to little things each day, and am learning to try to do them well for the sake of doing things well. Not just to get them finished. I love you – and I’m not sure you will ever understand the depth of your influence (good influence) in my life. You have been instrumental in setting me on my path, and equipping me with important tools that I have needed. xoxo
1) How did I not know you have an awesome blog?!
2) Three years ago, in the depths of your depression, you told me that I would be an amazing life coach. I still hold on to that moment when I’m having my own difficult days/weeks/months/fuck it, basically all of 2015. You are already your own best wise-woman, and those of us who get touched by that insight are blessed.
3) I too have been told in many ways by many people that I have big, important work to do. I have come to see that, for now, that big important work is inside. It’s about letting go of all the “shoulds” and “have to’s” and “this is what it looks like to whatever’s” and just being ok. Actually no: Being great, because I am creating my space that fits me even if no one else likes it or gets it or whatever.
4) So yeah: just write your heart out. Because there will always be external judgement and world events and personal events and Donald Trump, apparently, and errands to run… excuses not to do your big work. And maybe committing to the work is the work. You know?