At least, it’s clear that culmination is my keyword. At the end of every calendar year I’ve taken to a series of tasks to both close the old year and open the new. This year, it seemed to be about reaching further back, into my early adulthood and looking at that work carefully. I find myself digging deeper and deeper now, taking screenshots and scanning more old papers than I foresaw when, between coughing fits, I contemplated my coming actions for the next few weeks.
I also realize this is an extension of the odd feeling I had. In November, I turned 35. At 25, my then-husband forgot my birthday and I had expected something to happen that just sort of didn’t; I know in retrospect that the Big Thing on my horizon was the kick-off of my Saturn return. Because of the unique position of my astrological profile, I got treated to a longer-than-average Saturn return. I believe mine lasted 8 years, whereas most people get 3-5 for their first one. I hope this means that my second Saturn return (and with modern science allowing us to live longer, possibly my third) are much, much shorter. While I’m definitely a better person for it, going through hell is…well, going through hell. Some lessons I could have easily and cheerfully learned without the chronic illness, massive disappointment in other humans and that weird “Why did that slip through my fingers?” experience that comes with Saturn’s little hike through the horoscope.
At 35 I actually played down the celebration. I had the people I’ve been closest to this year over for tacos, I avoided phone calls and other things I consider “phony.” A friend wanted to know why I was playing down my birthday (after reminding me he doesn’t consider me the least bit old while reminding me he’s younger than me.) As he pointed out to me, this whole “turning 35” clearly meant something to me, and he wanted to know what I thought that meant.
I still have no idea. I just know that it means it’s time to finish, because something is about to begin. If I coughed up the bucks for a decent astrologer, I’d probably get a lot more detail on what that means. Or not. I’ve noticed that my subconscious seems to know exactly what’s going on and why, at all times, and in generous moments it shares with the rest of me sitting in the front row.
What I do know is that right now I feel a deep need to gather my work, to look at what I’ve done, to really examine what I’ve got to show for myself. I trust that there’s a reason I want to dig up and screenshot the dregs of old websites, pull together pubs where the copyright has reverted, get my Zombie Story into an illustrated book. I’m frustrated that the extensive scans and pdfs I took before we moved out of the Franklin coop have disappeared, and probably sit on an untapped hard drive somewhere. I’m finding myself digging into the Internet Wayback machine.
Do I save what my ex wrote? Yes, for now, I guess – he was the reason my old site Medea’s Chariot came to be. I am only now ready to look at that past relationship and understand what it meant, and what went wrong, and why it’s both our faults and nobody’s. He is also the reason I’m writing the book Divorcing a Real Witch. While he often tried to get me to quit practicing magic and often wanted me to drop all the things I strove for, he is in his way the reason I did them in the first place. Like my parents, our relationship was wildly dichotomous – so much good came out of so much bad, albeit none of it in the way the other person intended.
I just spent hours today fishing through old Witch’s Voice essays for mine – I changed my identity a few times, and on at least one submission attribution was pulled because I think that the content editors couldn’t figure out who actually did it.
There are, of course, the years immediately post divorce. I fell off my creative engine. I understand what happened now: I needed that time to be. In a life colored with constant doing and a Protestant work ethic that may well have damaged my health, that time where I scrambled for basics felt awful but in a way was good: all my creative energy went into my own rebirth. It’s hard to recognize that when you’re pregnant with yourself, but for those who can handle that spiritual metaphor, it does make a lot of sense.
The earthy Capricorn energy post solar eclipse last week left me with a certainty: “This is the year.”
I guess we’ll all see the answer to “The year for what?”
Note: on my DianaRajchel.com blog, this is my 333 post.