More musings on existing now.

I used to be a four seasons gal.

Well, once I moved to Washington and realized what four seasons are. Did you know I have now lived here as long as I lived in Arizona? Pretty wild. Almost 22 years in each place.

Slowly over time, summer became more of a secret primary partner. And then the "winter" of 21/22 hit. It started in late September and went until the end of June. Greyest winter in recent history. I experienced legit depression for the first time in 20 years. I mean... the pandemic was going on, too.

But I realized if I had my way (in a dreamland sense, not in an "I'm another entitled human who gets to act however I want, fuck climate collapse" way) I'd probably choose 3 months of spring and fall each, 1 month of winter and 5 months of summer. Pacific Northwest Summer, specifically. It's a fucking magical fairyland, y'all.

It's been an amazing one so far. So good I didn't really take pictures. We got our first warm temps in March, quieting my concerns that we'd be getting a repeat of the year before.

And it's not over.

But.

I'm sitting here, feeling the cool air flow through my home. Watching the blue sky outside. Knowing that as I speak another burst of smoke is making its way towards us. It is likely I will be closing the windows and going inside if not by the end of today, then tomorrow.

But first, a gathering in the park with ASTROLOGERS. Because I want that for my life.

There are #positivereframes to this story. At least smoke season didn't start in mid July like they told us it might. At least this bout shouldn't last past Tuesday if it does in fact arrive. At least I have air filters and resilience and an amazing place to shelter indoors.

But this summer has also been brutal on my heart as I have watched one destructive disaster after another.  Even after a lifetime of knowing this was coming. Even after the last several years of ramping up. Clients losing homes and offices and ancestral lands. And faith. I try to limit my media intake.

I ponder, more than normal, what it means to have decided years ago that my place here on earth is to help folks navigate the grief of the times we are living in. To have my income tied to such a thing is... a lot.

A truth is emerging for humans of this dominator culture now: after hundreds of years of trying to conquer "nature", it is clear that nature is unconquerable, and that we -- as inherent parts of it (go figure!) -- are subject to its whims.

When I went through my cancer experience (the sixth anniversary for which is just days away) and subsequent health shit, I learned what it means to just fully surrender to processes you can't control. Even just whittling it down to those 10 days spent waiting for the path reports and the stage of the cancer... complete surrender. Silence. Peace.

My life had already given me doses of recognizing what I can and cannot control. But cancer... changes everything. I found such grace and peace in giving into the process rather than trying to fight it.

The pandemic has been similar. I could be disappointed at every single shift and cancellation and need to adapt and adjust (and... I mean... I have had my moments and still do. For sure.), or I could just surrender. Let it go. Lean into my tools. Do my best. Recognize what I do and do not have control over.

Being a part of this unfathomable (yet totally predictable) process of climate collapse is similar. I sit here with coffee. A delicious bowl of overnight oats with raspberries and bloobs. I listen to wind in trees as music that always soothes my heart while knowing it is also likely ushering in poisonous air.

I try to listen deeper. To connect with plants and animals. Water. Sky.

I know I just have to hold the unknowing: I have plans in the coming weeks. Late summer plans that now are at the whims of something larger than me. I do my best to look forward. But not too much.

I adjust. I love. I mourn. I wonder. I lean into gratitude for a knowing that my life has been filled with a tremendous amount of joy. Moments I can always draw near in heart and cellular memory as needed.

And that's where this ramble babble ends for now. What a time to be alive.

Amanda is a queer astrologer who is very into relational, evolutionary and psychological astrologies. Sometimes she also writes about the world and her place in it.
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