(by turns)

I pull a card, scorpion, I almost never pull the Fire element.  I take it as a reminder to keep moving, to generate (some) heat, even though my instinct is to pull away, to get quieter and slower and softer and, by degrees, metaphorically cooler.  It’s a reminder to be honest, with others and with self.  What is unresolved, what is asking for forgiveness, what is begging to be warmed?  And, in this moment, do I need the warmth, or do I need the cool?  Which is more honest, more true?

I paste a magazine clipping of lemons into my journal, four lemons in sunlight, yellow and plump, green leaves with a hint of curl.  The clipping feels a sister to the scorpion card, speaking to me of warmth, of beacons, of honest living.  I’m not sure there is a lesson tucked into every experience, every conversation, every pasted magazine clipping but (maybe) sometimes (surely) there is.

I want to live honestly and think that I (mostly) do.  There are tender bits lying beneath the surface, not quite ready for sun, expansion, free and fierce living.  For now, I let them lie.  Nature does her work, I do my work, all in good time, all in good time.  It’s hard to live in this way sometimes—all in good time—believing that, living that.  I want to trust and I (mostly) do, but it’s hard.

I look to the lemons transitioning from blossom to fruit, becoming juicy and plump, tiny suns lighting an orchard, doing so in a series of moments, moments of (seeming) readiness.  I remind myself that scorpions regulate themselves according to their environments, burrowing in cool darkness when warmth becomes extreme, basking in bright sun when warmth is needed, understanding that their lives depend on both/and.  They retreat, they emerge, no shame in either, living moment to moment.

And if there’s a lesson in either (or both) the lemons and the scorpions, it is for me to blossom in my own time, to (hopefully) light the tiny orchard that is my life, to take warmth and seek the cool quiet as needed, in a series of moments, moments of readiness and (sometimes) not-readiness.  Opening and softening, allowing for grace and asking for forgiveness, warming and cooling by turns.  

To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides.
~ David Viscott ~

Listen to Michelle read (by turns)

P.S. I’m sharing May’s The Quiet Page for FREE during the month of May. Hop over here for details.

P.P.S. Pre-order your copy of kerning, Issue 2 (psst! I’ll be tucked into those pages).

P.P.P.S. Haylee Clare is doing a Kickstarter campaign for her beautiful oracle deck. If you’re reading this on Friday, May 6th, today is the last day to help her reach her goal. She’s so close!!!! Hop over…offer support…you’ll be holding a gorgeous deck in your hands within a few months time.

P.P.P.P.S. Barbara and I are sharing photos + a quote over here!

P.P.P.P.P.S. just kidding. I’m done ;)

2 thoughts on “(by turns)

  1. Reading this and thinking of you today, Michelle!

    Sending big hugs and love, Julie

    Sent from my iPhone


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