“Sew”-hain- what costume are you wearing- Clown or cat, Fool or Strength is there a difference?

” The past is behind

Learn from it

The future is ahead

Plan for it

The present is here

Live it”

President Monson

Having recently returned from the most mind-blowing trip to Canada, holding Despacho, a sacred prayer bundle, beneath the stars on the new moon, I am surprised, not only at how quickly this next Scorpionic phase has come around, but how little I have written.

No call or desire to reflect, releasing the journey into the flames before it had completed, surrendering it with great gratitude at that moment for times to come, I have physically embodied the changes I had so humanly fretted about.

No trick, the treat, a celebration alongside those I consider soul family, in all honesty at that moment, all moments even, Samhain had begun.

The thin veil of realisation that we are all each other.

Leading up to this sacred time, it had become part of me, much like the blood of my ancestors, rather than a memory in my mind it had transpired into a cellular recognition within my body.

Deep huh?

Not really, when regarding our inherited DNA and characteristics, dis-eases, behaviours, and traits passed on, our awareness from a scientific perspective, is a minute proportion of our genetic makeup and exactly who we are connected to.

Despite our ancestors acknowledging this on a far greater holistic level we are only now becoming more open to the energetic “genes” we hold in our metaphorical closet, the effect on us, and understandably realising some just don’t fit us, in many ways.

Rather than throw the material away we have always had the opportunity to unravel the stitches, keep any treasured scraps and reform the garments we choose to be known for.
Let’s face it at one point the patterns and structure were needed and would have led the way for many new “soul fashions” as a result!

So how do we become the designer of our unique brand of direction?
Walk freely upon the runaway of our own existence?
By letting go of the need to.

Toying with different costumes amongst the traditional outfits worn at this and any time of year.

Zombies, monsters, clowns even cats, Halloween has truly become the night of all souls, all energies, the sky is literally the limit to who we want to be, the message behind any familial line.

But whether we follow with great admiration the starched seamstresses of the past, donning witches’ hats, or ghost sheets or rebel against them freehand knitting “our own path” as playful animals we are basing it around those that came before us and our surrounding peers.

Like the bowl full of unhealthy sweets sure to rot the teeth, it becomes less about who we are and more about destroying the whole potential garment, the rewards we collect along the way pretending to be something we are not, the only reason to celebrate.

We become our ultimate undoing, desperate to break free of the patterns, be it spiritual socks or the dogmatic dungarees of our Ancestors we run the risk of dissociation from the very blood that runs through us and the nutritious knowledge it holds.

All Hallows eve, the time of recognition that many walked before us in many guises and styles, that we are indeed journeying alongside each other as co-creators.

Not alone, but part of a design soul school, all here to graduate together, without this understanding our ancestors knew they couldn’t pass through the eye of the needle, the curtain through which all life is the thread.

The separation sting in the “tale”, Scorpio presents over the next coming weeks.

But fear not!
Reflective Mercury is coming!

A chance to balance what we really want to wear from now until January, looking at the uniform we are holding within us, the potential adjustments required and tools available to do so, not from splitting off any aid, yes even those dreaded  out of fashion designs of the Ancestors, but by collaborating what works now based on the materials we have gained.

For me personally, the messages have already appeared in the arrival of a very small presence, a yoni egg, to be placed within my own temple of creativity.

Black moonstone, so far it has brought up much regarding the dark shadow womb, not only of these times, the uncertainty of what we are creating individually and collectively but within my own sacred womb space.

Is there any difference in reality?

The Universe, us, our ancestors?

Or has this wound become the very tear in the fragments of “ all souls”.

Can we darn a hole that has been embedded through so many masks?

How we see things, the very ideas we hold dear are the cotton within which we weave our lives and those around us.

If our ancestors were restricted so too are we, if their undergarments are viewed as a choice so then are ours, releasing the bodice of belief we can begin to breathe a sigh of relief for the freedom felt in the past, now, and the future.

No shrouded fears.

The attire of fun, innocence, celebration.

The regalia of curiosity.

All too often we assume, disempowered, subject to the changes around us with no input or say, yet what if this is the trick and what happens to us really happens for us, the treat.

Cliché perhaps, but, what if?

That I would dress up for, arriving at each stage in my life hands open asking for what I deserve.

Changes the energy, completely right?!

No longer are we frightened ghouls but playful kittens, our costumes yarn holding a sense of wonder and appeal.

What is it?
Whose is it?
How far can it roll?
What can it make?
But first…
We need to play with it!

This morning whilst out walking my dogs, my neighbour rang, he thought my own cat had been run over, hearing car horns he feared the worst.

My own “big mac” was sat by the fire, oblivious having just finished a bowl of cream.

Reassuring him, I began to think of his words “curiosity killed the cat” and his fears related to this, handed down to him from times of great risk, alongside my own desire rising and falling over the last few days, to visit Mexico in January.

Arriving on the day of Epiphany leaving on the first eclipse, it will be at sacred sites I have seen in past life regressions, I have been called to hold a womb blessing on the land of Ixchel the Goddess of Midwives ( what better place for a “Soul Midwife” to be) and it is way out of my price range.

Now.

It is a chunk of mixed up, knotted wool sat in front of me.

Unlike Canada I don’t feel called to rush in and book it without thinking, writing this I can’t help but laugh at my cat, standing too close to the fire, jumping back.

But neither have I dismissed it, which is something my overthinking rationale mind is desperate to do, my inherent pattern threatening to destroy the physical machine that is to sew the insights together.

Rather I am sitting with the possibility, observing it, feeling the fun behind it and staying with this.

I can feel genetic lack and concerns regarding safety and am aware of the future hope and strength being passed onto my children’s children taking the leap.

Beneath it all I am stitching together a new story, or rather adjusting the original template.

Curiosity, conception, creativity.

Aware in the space of indecision, the void of creation I hold the greatest potential, releasing my need to figure it all out, the only true aspect of curiosity that destroys any feline Leo I am free to travel light.

Showing up as guided wearing the cloak of certainty that my call has been heard and will be answered. 

I am holding true to my Strength, my Sovereignty, the divine connection within us all.

Knowing deep within me, Pachamama.
Her core, creator mother, my Ancestoral DNA.

Trusting, like the Fool, if this path is part of her pregnancy it will, if it hasn’t already, be gestated, and worn through our own unique combined masquerade.


What pattern are you creating, do you need a Tarot tailor?


 

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