The other day I was on my way to have a quick meeting with a friend of mine. I stopped for gas and as I was pulling out of the gas station, I noticed a journal on the concrete – right where my car would be passing. Huh, I thought. I write religiously in my journals on a daily basis (I have for years and years and always have one with me in my purse) and I always include my contact info in the front cover in case it’s ever lost. Duh.

Anyway, I saw this journal lying on the ground and so I opened my car door to scoop it up. On the front it said Rice University Jones School of Business. I looked inside the front cover for contact info: none. So I asked the question of my deeper self “Is this for me? If so, I need it to be really obvious, please.” I began to thumb through: lots of chemistry terms. I’m actually a trained chemist and so my curiosity was immediately piqued. I saw the word “Field” several times. I saw how “O2” (for oxygen) looked like an “OZ” in this person’s handwriting. I saw something about an owl at the end and this was the very animal card I was currently working with. After a long pause and a quick glance around the gas station grounds, I threw the journal on the floor of my car and drove off.

When I got to my friend’s office, I read the journal more thoroughly as I walked slowly from my car to the building. Let’s just say there were several (and I mean several) indications that this here journal was for ME specifically. Not a doubt in my mind. I stepped into my friend’s office and said “this thing - I don’t know what to do with it” as I showed off the banged-up book. With a sigh I placed it on the ground and we had our scheduled meeting.

Towards the end, I said to my friend “Honestly, serious question, what do I do with this? There are too many points of connection directly to me. There’s almost an ‘ask’ in here for me to do something. I just don’t know what.” My friend looked at me in the eyes and said with poignant directness “I rarely give advice… And I would let that thing go. You can let it tie up your mental space and let it hook you or you can get present and be focused on opening your heart.” (Something like that, anyway.)

And so, I stopped in the restroom on my way out. I looked at it long and hard one more time, flipping through the pages. I watched how the temptation to keep it was very strong. I took a deep breath and asked my highest self “should I keep this journal?” I immediately got a crystal clear NO and so I left it. Bye! I don’t know or care what you were about, Rice journal. But I see you. And I won’t take the bait. The clarity of connection wasn’t backed by a clarity of direction. I’m super open to serendipity but not clogging distractions.

And now, I’m genuinely curious – what would you have done? I can see how I might be second-guessing myself here but I don’t think I am. In fact, no regrets on ditching the thing. But I am curious about how deeply some other version of myself would have engaged with it. Am I missing out on some magical connection?  
​
May all beings be happy and free.
May all beings be happy and free.
May all beings be happy and free.
May it begin with me.
With clarity, kindness and courage.
May it be so. 

I've been resisting posting about my France adventures. Not wanting to brag or seem egotistical. Not wanting to rub it in that I got to go on a trip like that solo and that yes, it was, in fact, an absolutely epic adventure. Not wanting to make a scene. Not wanting to speak up. Not wanting to be like "look at me, look at me!" Not wanting to dwell on the amazing-ness that's going down in my life when the world seems like it's falling apart. 

FUCK IT. That's dumb. I actually have an obligation in some way to share about the journey to open my heart and be genuinely happy. Here goes....

Lourdes. Look, if you really want to tune into the energy of Mother Mary, consider going to Lourdes. I've never experienced anything quite like it. The grotto located below the church structure is where a young girl named Bernadette encountered what she considered to be Mary. Bernadette's faith in that experience has, decades later, created an amazing pilgrimage site. Throngs of people from all over the world (including tons of Indians who love all forms of divine Mother) come to experience the grotto, feeling its walls like a giant earthen vagina, areas of it dripping with spring water. And the big church on top is where an enormous Marian procession occurs nightly - completely candlelit, with thousands pilgrims singing Ave Maria in a multitude of languages. Those at the front of the procession are in wheelchairs, hopeful for real healing. And real healing has occurred in Lourdes. Documented cases of real healing. There's nothing like it. I'm so glad I went. Mary resides in me in a way I never could have imagined prior to my time in Lourdes. I'll be back, goddess willing. 

And then there's St. Baume. Y'all. Holy cow. Allegedly this is where Mary Magdaleine lived the last  years of her life - meditating in a cave after she fled the Holy Lands. I mean, who knows, right? I've researched a little bit on this and I feel like the jury is out on the historic validity of this claim. That said, Mary Magdaleine is alive and well in St. Baume! In me and in all those who make the journey.

In order to access the caves, you must walk (there are no roads) uphill through a forest of 3,000 year old trees (that's me above on the forest trail). Once inside the mountainside caves, there's an amazing sanctuary and shrine to both Jesus and Mary Magdaleine. Seriously, it was so cool to sit inside the cave and listen to hundreds of middle schoolers there for a field trip singing devotional hymns and chanting prayers. I met a very cool American woman named Lee Ann (along with her husband and son) from Milwaukee and we've stayed in contact now that we're both back in the States. This won't be my final mention of her. I suspect our paths have intertwined with great purpose.  

It gets better. After a pretty exhausting (and hot!) hike to the tippy top of the mountain range, I entered a super tiny chapel to encounter this inside: 

Whoa, right? A naked Mary Magdaleine covered by long hair and lifted up by a pair of cherubs! And such a modern rendition. Again, nothing like it. 

Let's see, what else? I recorded the friars one evening chanting as I meditated in the pilgrim hostel's chapel. I managed my stick-shift rental car to and from St. Baume just fine - on French toll roads and winding switchbacks alike. I proved to myself (once again) that I can be joyously self-reliant in a foreign country - changing trains, navigating being vegetarian and so much more with an abundance of grace and ease. With 24 pages of single spaced typed journal entries, there's more to say. Much more. All in good time. 

In the end, my week of contemplative, solo travel did my soul so much good. I'm revitalized and inspired. I take that revitalization and inspiration back into my Default World with gladness in my heart. And now? Scorpio season is upon us (finally! yay!) and I cheerfully prepare for another trip around the sun. 

​May it be so. 

Burning Man: there's nothing like it on earth. If you haven't been, I would encourage you to consider it. With your "normal" social constructs obliterated at Burning Man, you have one of those rare opportunities to sink into who you really are without all your normal Default World baggage.  Cuz we all carry it. Picture above? My most recent Burn in 2015, just ridin' on the front of a bike driven by my firefighter-turned-circus-performer friend Leonard. After a solid six years in a row, I'm on year three of my "Burning Man break." Cuz it's only a break. I'll be back someday, baby, I'll be back. Seeing several friends head out to the desert has caused a serious case of FOMO. 

In the meantime, for the last few years, I've used that week and the associated resources (read: money and time) that I would have put towards the Burn in other ways. Last year I took my boy-child to southeast Asia. The year before that, I went down a super crazy rabbit hole with a new acquaintance. This year I head out on a solo excursion to France. My midwife moved there recently after retiring. She's delivered thousands of babies and is one of the most amazing (and challenging) people I know.  I worked for her for six (very long and phenomenal) years in my early twenties serving the midwives and laboring women alike. I even enticed her to come with me to Burning Man in 2014. At her going away party this past May she invited everyone to come visit her in France. I raised my hand (ok, I might have been a teeny bit tipsy) and promised I would. And then I promptly bought a round trip ticket a few weeks later. I have endless gratitude for my patient and devoted husband - this isn't the first time I've done such a thing. He always smiles and says "I knew this when I married you."

At first I thought I'd just hang out in Paris for the week with her. We did that together once actually, in 2007. It was just the two of us and we had a fantastic time together. And with a free place to stay this time around, it just made sense financially. But as I continued to view this trip as a pilgrimage (similar to how I view Burning Man), something in me clicked and I knew I needed to expand my French footprint. And while I'll definitely spend time with her in Paris (as well as her amazing wife Lisa), I also have booked a couple of other excursions: one to Lourdes and another to St. Baume and now the whole trip has accidentally turned into a "Mary pilgrimage" of sorts.

Lourdes is the place where a young girl named Bernadette experienced an apparition of what she knew to be Mother Mary. Hundreds of thousands of pilgrims have visited this place because it's now a revered and well known place of healing miracles, many of which are documented. Further, when I lived in Europe while I was in college (back in 1995), I had numerous friends make the trip to Lourdes and report back to me that it was pretty impactful. Now it's my turn, two decades later.

St. Baume, on the other hand, is allegedly the site of a series of caves that Mary Magdalene lived in for thirty-some-odd years after she fled the holy lands.  It's only accessible by foot and the journey there will be an adventure unto itself, guaranteed. I've had to rent a car (manual transmission, eek!) and everything. Nestled in a forest with 3,000 year old trees, it's been a pilgrimage site since the middle ages and sounds amazing from everything I've read - so obviously I'm all in for this one. And because I've booked a room at the friar-run hostel, I get access to the caves in a pretty cool way - it's located at the base of the trail. 

Who knows if either place is bullshit. I don't really care. The spirit and energy of these Mary's has held and I'm going to go exploring to experience it all for myself. And while there probably won't be a series of cathartic bonfires (let's hope not anyway) like at Burning Man, I do expect a ton of bullshit to burn off. It always does when I travel alone like this. It's humbling to not speak the language, to depend on my own radical self reliance and to be the stranger. And who knows, maybe my heart will open a little bit more to in turn pay kindness forward just a little bit more in the world. 

I'll be seein' ya on the other side. May it be so. 

And here's the not very sexy post scriptum to this Dispatch: my day job is pretty huge sometimes. And while I might not be curing cancer, it's the biggest (and most gratifying) thing I've ever worked on in my adult life. I'm currently spearheading a project that will take months if not years to complete. Here's the thing: I'm committed. It's the right thing for our community (and I do mean community-at-large) that I stick around and see this through. Adventures like this one to France (as well as Burning Man) have allowed me to unhinge just enough to fly free before I come back and get super grounded again.  It's actually the secret to my work-life balance. How I've been able to keep my marriage together for twenty years and raise two beautiful and compassionate children. How this body I'm in ticks. It's my natural rhythm, one could say. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't share the endless hours of spreadsheets and planning that I do on a daily basis. The meetings - meetings upon more meetings - about an incredibly diverse array of things that I share respnose-ability for.  My day-job sometimes requires a lot of patience and presence that I don't know how else I could experience and cultivate except through my-life-of-writing-and-sharing-as-Aurah.  You know? My left brain just isn't that exciting! SJ handles that day-job integration just fine.  She burned bright with all those projects she created back in the day. And they live on without her, praise goddess, so I can just keep focused on that day job. 

May all beings be happy and free. 
May all beings be happy and free. 
May all beings be happy and free. 
May it begin with me. 
With clarity, kindness and courage. 
​May it be so. 

So those twelve Thai soccer boys and their coach in the cave, right? I have a couple of questions. 

Paul told me about this amazing story just now in the kitchen that he read about the Wild Boars soccer team. That the coach taught the boys to meditate while they were in that cave and that's basically how they survived for nine days before being found by the British divers. They went on to stay in the cave for another week or so while the rest of the world figured out how to get them out of there. Can you imagine? Holy shit! And then I remembered reading a BBC story (because thanks to my day job I'm picky about news I consume) about how they were going to spend some time in a monastery soon and become temporary ordained Buddhist monks. It's a common practice for boys who have "experienced misfortune". And I know from experience that it's true (but probably not the full extent of it).

I remember now that when my son and I traveled last summer in nearby Myanmar that a ton of kids at varying ages (many as early as five or six) go live as a monk or nun for a period of time. Our local guide Lae shared with us that she shaved her head at 17 and did it for a couple of weeks herself, complete with her parents blessing. She wore the robes, learned to meditate, studied scripture and everything - literally living the life of a full-on nun. That it wasn't just a retreat and it's commonly encouraged to try the lifestyle out and embody the full time spiritual life. My boy and I saw evidence of it everywhere and we were amazed at how commonplace and normal it is to learn how to meditate. Many even adopt the life and become full time monastics. And yes, while there are a number of orphans in the system, they seem to be spiritual free agents, not merely depending on the infrastructure for survival. That was our sense of it anyway. 

Such is the case with the 25 year old Wild Boars coach, Ekapol. The Vox article talks about how he was an orphan who studied to be a monk for ten years during his teens. He left the monastery life a couple of years ago to go care for his sick grandmother and was soon hired to be the local soccer coach.
For a team called the Wild Boars.
Who all end up meditating in a cave for a few weeks.
In almost complete darkness, literally on death's door.
Underground.
Before finally being guided out by Navy Seals.
One at a time over the course of three days.
Twelve of them plus their Coach, emerging out of the earth's womb.
And now they're all off to be ordained Buddhist monks for awhile?

They symbolism of it all is astonishing, right? I know people who would pay good money for an experience like this. I know of others who probably should have an experience like this in order to wake the fuck up.

These thirteen seem like they might be the wisest people on earth right now, what, with their recent and profound rebirth experience all over international headlines. Perhaps after their looming monastery experience they could answer a couple of questions I have, please:
1. For real fellas, why have we created such shit show on our planet right now?  
2. Is peace, clarity and kindness really the way through this too? 

I pray for the widespread inspiration of their courage to help us all to remember and to believe. I am grateful for the (dare I say it?) gladness in my heart. May it be so. 

The mister and I just celebrated 20 years of marriage on May 18. To actually celebrate-celebrate with punctuation in the timeline of our lives, we invited a handful of folks to participate in what we were terming 'a ceremony of affirmation'. My father (a retired minister) officiated our ceremony and it was held at the same family ranch where I wrote the first half of Unified Field Theory of Oz - something that has turned out to be much more than merely a paper it would seem. 

​We were very clear we weren't "renewing vows" or re-creating the wedding we never had (we eloped you see).  No, we were very conscious about the whole naming convention. In part to manage expectations and also to clarify for ourselves the intention and meaning of our experience. Here's how a truly magical ceremony we co-created went down, if you were a participating flower that is...

All photos by me except the one below, taken by our friend Kent. The dress was my grandmother's wedding dress worn only once in 1944. The one and only Tracy  Popken (a real Adept of Magic herself) made the adjustments to make it fit me.

May all beings be happy and free.
May all beings be happy and free.
​May all beings be happy and free and may it begin with me. May it be so. 

What a year. Same yard, same dresses. One earth-year apart. 

This time we had white bean chili to kiss farewell to Winter, a lush green salad to usher in Spring and baked pears for dessert. Cole prepared a talk for us (complete with a hand out) on The Festival of Promise (Vernal Equinox). Last year it was on Venus' orbit and Springtime goddesses. 

I mean, it's breathtaking. A year ago I was just coming in to my own as Aurah. Understanding more about what that meant and how it works as a tool, in tandem with my birth name to help me remember and understand my true nature in terms of a higher, mysterious order. And then throughout the last year - death and rebirth over and over again, all year long: closing a formal study of the Full Moon Salon and starting a study of the new moon; cutting off eighteen inches of hair; travelling for a few weeks in Burma with my teenage son; an epic birthday season followed by a forced stillness in the dead of winter after I fell into a fire and burned both my hands to a debilitating crisp. Somewhere in there I picked up studying a martial art and these days I also go to dance once or twice a week. And there's more. I actually like going to work each morning because it's a super grounding day job (albeit occasionally stressful) ​that serves the entire community. A beautiful and necessary balance to the spiritual blossoming that's been underway.  

Further, I'm inspired by my friends, co-workers and acquaintances in circles I run around in. I see a look of recognition - somehow both of us knowing for a fact that we are completely connected on some level, on a scale both unfathomably small and large.  And yet we've learned to play the game so well that we occasionally believe some of the disconnected bullshit stories we tell ourselves; as individuals and as communities. Which, for me, is a simple reminder that kindness goes a long way in just about any scenario. And by default, kindness brings forth the light of truth whenever it is shown into the darkness - with friends, colleagues, family or while out and about.

Anyway. Spring is here and a new cycle is underway. I remind myself to be poised and patient, ever at-the-ready to be responsive to the moment and whatever it holds.  I am grateful to be here now. 

​May it be so. 

Last night we celebrated Travis - our beautiful and complicated friend who was deeply intelligent with the wit of a sharp knife.  Devoted comrade Tanya hosted the wake for all who wanted to come together and ruminate on his short life. In that way that is pure Tanya, she had prepared a cookie sheet with strips of paper with letters of the alphabet taped to it. Each person was invited to take a letter and as we sat around a roaring campfire, use that letter as a springboard to comment with a word, sentence or story about Travis: funny stories, sad stories, comments about the dismay we all felt at losing our friend. We wove our strips of paper with letters on them into a Viking-Funeral-Esque pyre made of sticks, burlap and flowers that a few brave friends set ablaze in a small pond while  shooting fireworks from the shore. Travis would have (secretly) loved it. 

I chose the letter S from the cookie sheet.

When it came my turn, I shared how my relationship with Travis was deep, but contained within trips out to West Texas. How we were close during these isolated and intense periods of time under a blanket of stars but not really so much back in the city. He was a faithful companion for many of these trips that concentric circles of friends would embark upon over the course of about a decade to my family's ranch south of Marfa. We all knew he was depressed and intuitively would invite him to come breathe the fresh desert air, clear himself and be forced to socialize with an intimate group of friends. As an accomplished photographer he would bring to life some of our most amazing experiences - a fancy dinner on the back porch of a dilapidated ranch house; hiking in Santa Elena Canyon; gorgeous nights under the stars, tea parties in the living room while the thunder, lightning and wind outside raged... I shared how he always sortof intimidated me with his smarts. And that I found him very attractive and loved being the one to share a bed with him because we both snore. Eight or so people in a four-room ranch house in the middle of the desert means you get creative and remain practical with sleeping arrangements. 

I have fond memories of sleeping next to him and of sharing dream time with him in my grandparents bedroom. I adored our snarky banter about the taboo nature of our sleeping arrangements. I did my best to keep up with with where he was at with his depression on those trips to the desert. But in the end, no one could - even those close to him in the Default World. 

I chose S for Sleep.  Travis - wherever you are, may you rest in peace.  We miss you. We love you. Sleep well. May it be so. 

Here is what I would have written about what happened... If I could write. I seriously shouldn't even be typing this. The gravity on my palms and the movement of my hands on the keyboard makes my open wounds hurt under the bandages. And I value my hands. They do good work. I'm off work the rest of the week - which is tough because I love my day job and there's tons to do this time of year. And it's not like I can get Christmas shopping done or have lunch with friends at cool restaurants. Like, literally, my hands have to heal. Driving is excruciating and so is opening and closing doors. Let's not get started on figuring out how to use the toilet with two bandaged hands. It's frustrating to not cook for my family or do the laundry. I'm gonna be fine. I know this. But only if I take care of myself. 

​It's interesting how open my heart and throat are in this recording. Whatever it is I have to say is being Forced "up" from the typical introversion of journal writing or typing. It's just an observation.  

​All is well. May it be so. ​

I perceive a lot of interest buzzing in our collective community about how trauma and the subconscious are stored up in the body. It's practically a national conversation, what, with the unveiling of a pervasive rape culture in almost every layer of society. Serendipitously, there are several of us who seem to be reading this book called The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk. 

I'd heard about this concept for years but first had direct experience with it after my first Vipassana retreat in 2011 and it came to me in an unexpected form. After that first 10-day, it was the weirdest thing, I noticed that I was no longer scared of spiders, bugs, scorpions, snakes or roaches. Not that I was actually ever frightened in a logical sense but what I noticed was that my uncontrollable reaction to the bugs was gone. I no longer jumped. Or make a yipping noise. It was more like “Oh, lookie there’s a spider…” and then I’d want to lean in for a curious examination instead of hollering for Paul to come squash it. Somehow, my reactionary “fear” of bugs had vanished.  I realized that (for me) gravity had somehow reorganized and reprogrammed some of that ancient, limbic muscle memory that before would cause me to jump and be startled. Through the process of meditating for 12 hours a day for 10 days straight, those tendencies (and others I might never be able to articulate) simply melted away. I didn't even realize it until after I'd seen a few bugs and didn't react in my "normal" way. It’s probably more complicated than that, but there are other examples of re-programming from attending a few of these 10-days that tell me that’s at least one of the ways Vipassana works to re-wire stuff deeply buried in the body.

The New Moon Adept Magic thing on Saturday was uh-mazing and we worked with this body-stored trauma throughout the course of our night together. We stretched, meditated and danced on the very edge of our comfort zones to shake stuff loose instead of simply letting gravity pull it out of us. Maybe we’ll do another one of those gatherings in the future, I mean, who knows. We don’t begin planning our New Moon Ceremonies until the prior Full Moon. So we’ll see.

In the meantime, there is another little experiment brewing. For three Sundays in December (3, 10 and 17), we will gather at Arts Mission Oak Cliff at 9:15am (sharp!) and do Dynamic Meditation. What’s that you say? It’s a simple exercise to shake loose a bunch of stored up shit in a systematic way that’s ideally suited to the busy, neurotic, Western mind. It unfolds in five parts to a pre-recorded soundtrack: 

• Rapid breathing
• Consciously go mad
• Chanting of a Sufi mantra “hoo”
• Hold still
• Dance it off

Did I mention the blindfolds? Right, so the first four steps are blindfolded. No one needs to see each other going to crazy-town. We take the blindfolds off only at the end for the dancing. And we’re adding one extra step to our December practice. After Dynamic, we’ll have a quick restroom break and then have seated, silent, unguided meditation for 20 minutes. All this will be contained in the safe (and private) confines of an old church-turned-arts-space. Cool, right? 

Formal disclaimer - I’m NOT an expert at Dynamic Meditation and I don’t pretend to be. I know there are other places to do it in town, but this is intense stuff folks, and maybe you don't want to do this vulnerable practice with just anyone.  I’ve done it exactly twice and both times were exhilarating, freeing and utterly transformative. Be open to potentially big changes! For example, I quit a well-paying job I was miserable at the very next business day after the first time I did Dynamic. I can’t wait to see what happens when I do it for three weeks in a row. Oh and I’m also NOT an expert on Osho, the controversial guy who developed this particular system. I just know that the Dynamic Meditation is a yogic technology that friggin' works. I tend to be practical and discerning like that.

So we’re going to do it and see what happens, kindof like an experiment. Once we’re done with the three week series, we will have a group book discussion on The Body Keeps the Score to see what we think about a Dynamic Meditation practice in the context of van der Kolk’s ideas in the book. It just seems obvious.  So pick up the book!  The one and only Cole Suttle of Helping Friendly Book Club has agreed to facilitate our conversation.  He explains 'positive trauma' better than anyone I know. He claims there's a sweet spot between boredom and anxiety where you can consciously inflict trauma for the purpose of healing. I'm game!

Want to join us? Here’s information about Dynamic Meditation at Arts Mission Oak Cliff. Blindfolds will be provided or you can bring your own. Be sure to bring a meditation cushion and a water bottle. You're gunna need it. Book discussion details forthcoming. That event will be the week of December 18, exact time and location TBD. 

​All this, just in time to go see the family for the holidays. You can thank me later for the divine timing.

May it be so. 

And just like that, it’s one year later. Let’s see, one year ago was the presidential election with a breathtakingly unexpected result for our country. One year ago my work situation was a completely different reality, also with a very unexpected result. And, one year ago I was sitting at the feet of the same exact swami in my very same living room. The more things change, the more things stay the same. Which is why I choose to study the moon.

Allow me to explain.

First of all, if you’re reading this, you’re invited to an evening of New Moon Adept Magic on November 18 at a former church-turned-arts-space. This website gets very few hits so I kinda already know anyone reading it has already been invited. All I ask is that you formally RSVP. My birthday next weekend coincides with the New Moon, which is my latest course of study. See, at heart I’m really just a mad scientist and I love data. Lots of it. Experiences allow me to collect data to examine for trends and patterns alongside my personal evolution and all that I am perceiving. I first began studying the moon because I desire to align with and understand a higher, mysterious cosmological order. The Full Moon Salon was an invitation-only salon for women that I hosted at my home for a full year from June 2016 to June 2017. We explored birth, death, sex, dreams, pilgrimages and so much more over the course of that year. Upon its completion I whacked off my hair (on the July Full Moon) and began a study of the New Moon. I started with vassa, or Buddhist lent, this past July New Moon while backpacking Burma with my son. The August New Moon was the eclipse (remember that?) and the September and October gatherings were private with my sisters Aujah and Audah. So for me to expand the moon-study circle out of my living room and into something more public on my birthday is thrilling to say the least!

And if I’m honest, I’m terrified.

There will be yoga on this looming New Moon Adept Magic gathering. That’s easy though – I’ve been doing that for seventeen years and I am currently one of Audah’s devotees in her Sunday 2pm class. She's leading the yoga on Saturday night. And… there will be dancing. That seems easy given all those Burning Mans I've attended and danced for days straight in the Nevada desert... It's when I put the word ‘ecstatic’ in front of ‘dance’ and know that a giant candle-lit church sanctuary awaits on my birthday and in Dallas? Dear Goddess I can’t breathe. And so, with that observation, I can’t think of anything more wonderful to do on my 42nd birthday than breathe through that terror and transmute it into expansive joy for the coming year. Yay for living up to my Scorpio label! See you there?
​
May it be so!