A Week of Mending
My Health, My Bed Quilt, and My Heart of Visioning as I Open Myself up to Tarot Readings Once More
It’s been a week where my body decided to tell me no. My body continues to tell me that it’s not always able to keep up with the demands of all that is going on around me. I used to get really mad at myself when I couldn’t show up in the ways like other people do. I used to get really mad when I couldn’t show up at all and be consumed by guilt for days. I still get mad.
This week was a very clear reminder that rest is a huge part of my practice with my work. It’s something that is inherent for me to be able to create at speeds that are sustainable for me. So the idea of sustainability and practice is something I continue to circle around time and time again.
When I look up and begin comparing myself to the pace of those around me, I know it’s time to circle back to my pace. When I find my eyes tethered to my screen, I know it’s time to tend to my garden. When my body becomes clogged and I can’t breathe, I know it’s time to lay down. When the climate tells me the air quality is dangerous, I know it’s time to steep some tea and fill it with herbs.
Everything around me tells me that I’m falling behind. Everything around me tells me I need to hurry up. Everything around me tells me there are events I’m missing and work I could be doing and the pace of the world is quickening even though I can’t. Everything tells me I am being left behind.
Perhaps that’s true in a way. The pace of those around me is usually quicker than my own, and I am reckoning with that. Maybe my body just can’t do all of the things of those around me. So what does that look like for me?
For so long I’ve hurried myself to catch up. I’ve quickened my pace for most of my life because I was scared of being left behind. Now I say:
let yourself fall behind because it’s right where you need to be
So by letting myself fall behind this week, I recalibrated. I picked up my bed quilt that’s been waiting for my touch. The final touches, the bits that get colored threads to hold the disparate parts together, remind me of my favorite part of the process. It’s the part I often do with the full moon, with my bleed, with my dog who pulls the threads out as soon as I put them in place. It’s the part of the process where the intention gets sewn into each nook-and-cranny. It’s where the spells get tucked inside the batting and the blocks become my protectors.
This quilt, this process, reminds me that I’m right on time. This piece reminds me that I can sit and stitch and allow it all to meet me where I am. I show up and trust that my pace is what’s needed for the work to unfold on the timeline it’s supposed to. I continue to remind myself that the pace I move is the reality I live in — this is the reality of the world I choose.
The web is the quilt and the quilt holds us in its threads with care.
As I continue to reckon with the sustainability of my practice alongside my needs, I’m reminded that I get to put myself first. I’m reminded that others will be okay if I set things down for a while so that I can mend my heart and my health with attention and care. I’m reminded that my practice is ready for me to orient back to it so that I may better align my weeks to allow for better rest.
As I speak these words out to you, my community, I share that my books for tarot are open again. I asked for a sign, and I received the message from many of you that it’s something you’re looking for. It’s also something I need. I will be showing up online with you on Fridays each week outside of those when I’m bleeding.
Tarot is a part of my daily morning ritual and has been for 8 years. I find so much validation in the cards and in my body through this lens. It provides a space of comfort and reassurance when my body wavers.
This last year allowed me to see all of the places I was allowing the world to dictate my time. I learned a lot about myself, and I learned a lot about my own capacity. I have opened 1 day a week to you all that are looking for deeper clarity and support while navigating transitions alongside so much collective hardship. I see you in that, and I honor it.
I want to clarify that I am not a therapist or a doctor, I am an artist and maker and lover of land. I love spirit and how it guides me here with my words and stitches and time. This container holds nuance for us to show up with complexity and support. This is a safe space for any and all bodies.
As always, please email me with any questions that you may have.
What does it feel like in your body for your practice to remain sustainable?
Is there something that needs to be set down in order for the pace to remain this way?
Is there space in your practice to allow for stillness? for breath? for greater presence?
My sister has a baby this week, and I just wait for the transition into this threshold with her. It’s exciting and completely unknown. Thank you for being here. I am always always always so grateful.
With care,