Literally the first thing my logical brain says to do is “look it up so you can give a definition”. That’s the thing though isn’t it? I should be able to intuitively describe what the word means. I believe that intuition is a type of innate wisdom that is developed over time. I think the more that we focus on intuition, the more we are able to use it. Now the question is: how are we to focus on intuition if we can hardly even describe it? Intuition exists in an infinite void of the mind. In order to see it, you have to first believe in it. Isn’t that the most absurd thing you’ve heard all day? That’s the kind of shit that will get you buckled into a straight jacket and thrown into a cell with padded walls. We don’t have the proper language to describe the thought realm without sounding crazy. Whether this is by default or by design… who knows…?

When we do tap into our intuition, it is something that can be felt in the body. At least it is for me. I get a “gut feeling” as it is described. Usually I have to wait for a wave of emotion to pass through my body, so I have to take more time to make up my mind. If I make a quick decision, it is not my intuition, it is most likely my impulsive nature. This may not be the case for everyone, I imagine some people can manifest on demand but I am not there yet (and don’t know that I ever will be). Intuition for me involves several forms of Divination because I like to have options. I consult the Tarot, Runes, I-ching, and the Astrological transits.

Now you might be saying, “none of that shit is real”. Perhaps you are right, despite the fact that I can hold my cards in my hand and reach into my rune bag, these symbols could be absolutely meaningless. That isn’t what my intuition says though. My intuition tells me that these altar pieces carry the wisdom of elders. The Tarot has been around since the 1400s in Italy, long before the establishment of the country within which I reside. For about 600 years the same symbols described through oral tradition in the same way were passed down as tools for decision making. The deck of cards even became standardized. So for a span of time 3x the age of the United States, our ancestors used this one form of divination, and it survived. The meme lived through those centuries.

It must be the almost unlimited access that we have to information which makes us think our elders were fucking morons. The truth is, they have a different kind of wisdom. It might not be the kind of intelligence that results in them scoring high on an IQ test, but its the kind that you get from lived experience. Gen X and on hardly take the time to examine their own lives, and groan at the mere mention of “when I was your age”. It seems so irrelevant, but it isn’t. Life happens in cycles and we can be pleasantly surprised by that when we learn to work with it. This is what training the intuition is like. Working with free will to our benefit as opposed to allowing our will to move us towards addictive patterns of thinking.

I can hear the grumbling of my logical friends and all of the objective arguments they would put forth, but the proof is in the pudding. When it comes to Astrology, I am tuning my mind to the cycles of the Heavens. (God that sounds amazing and I realize a little out there in woo-woo) In doing so, I prepare myself for each day. It isn’t always positive news, sometimes there’s some heavy shit happening in the cosmos. If that doesn’t come to fruition I rejoice over the planetary transits going easy on me. That is to say, if Pluto don’t smite me when I expect her too, then I just had a relatively better day than I might have otherwise. It is all mind set, because, guess what? That’s what life is all about. How well do you handle eating shit? How humble can you remain when you fee like you are on top of the world? Answering those questions says a lot more about your character than your six-figure income.

I had this thought about how when we interact with other people, we often hear what we want to hear. Sometimes I notice that messages from many different places seem to start to sound the same, as though everyone is on a same mental wave length. Now I’m starting to believe that this is how my intuition talks with me; through others. I glean from my cards, from conversations, and from transit charts the messages that I need to hear. Only when I am tuned in and paying attention do I notice those little Easter eggs. This is why having an observed life is training for our intuition.

Originally written in Collective Journaling at The Stoa

Training Intuition was originally published in Op-Ed on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

There’s something about advertising that has always felt pretty sleazy. Using apps on my phone to promote myself also feels kind of gross. Why is that? It got really weird when our friends joined Multi-Level Marketing sales teams. Suddenly we developed a social awkwardness unlike any that had ever been experienced before. People that we hadn’t spoken with since high school approached us as we sat in our bathrobe at home. They engaged in a conversation with us and made us feel like we’d been missed. Then, when the time was right, they launched an offer to join a magical team of money-making hustlers. All one would have to do is pretend to sell products while roping in more of their friends to the scheme. As soon as everyone caught wind of that rot, nobody wanted to have anything to do with that kind of manipulation.

Well, if I’ve learned anything from meditation and shadow work, it is that whatever I see in the world is a reflection of me. If I think that something is icky, I think that very same thing about some part of myself. After coming to this realization (from a talk by Peter Koenig), I started to explore what that might be. There’s definitely a question of worthiness here. I wonder if I deserve to receive attention, and yet this sentence does nothing to convey what that actually means. I have allowed myself to believe that everyone that speaks has a reason that is justified. Somewhere along the line I began to believe that the things I say are not worth being heard. Whether or not anyone has ever actually said that to me, its the ultimate thought I reach when exploring my reaction to creating social media content.

For Collective Journaling, Peter provided three quotes.

“If the young are not initiated into the tribe they will burn down the village just to feel its warmth.”
— African Proverb —

“Philosophizing is learning how to die.”
 — Montaigne —

Qui n’a pas lutté n’a pas vécu.

— Leon Daude —

This is why I try to make a TikTok and also sit with my parents and grandparents through the pain of dying; the first and second quotes. I feel it as somewhat of a duty to pass on knowledge to the younger generations. I want them to feel included in their own future decisions without having to burn down everything they have before them. It would be so foolish to destroy what has been built for them. We as the elders are tasked with finding a way to communicate with the young people. We have to make the effort so they know that they are loved. We have to bring them the warmth of nurturing care. All to learn how to die gracefully. It is true, we are here and we will die. If we love fully and deeply then this life has meaning. If we choose to die in fear and isolation, that is simply another way to do it. Ultimately, we all go. The young people will learn this and when they do, they may be scared. They may feel hopeless or nihilistic. If, however, they are loved and the life changes can be described to them before they reach them, then we have the ability to change the course of their life. We can influence them to building great things with the few years they are promised. We can encourage them to chase their dreams and be the change they wish to be… but only if we meet them where they are.

Which leads me to the final quote that translates to “Who did not fight did not live”. I fight this fact daily. Things repeat, life carries on, and I’m aware in the middle of it all; just sitting here stuck in a loop. This is a very real and normal experience to have but two years ago I thought I was losing my mind. I had no one to advise me otherwise. I now have a role to play as that person for other people. I have no expectations of being able to help anyone any further along than not feeling crazy; or perhaps feeling crazy but being okay with that. I can get people to the realization that maybe crazy is actually sane. Maybe the people that have received the ‘normal’ badge got that from some completely ass-backwards committee. It feels weird to talk about the things I am interested in and to attempt to attract people to me that way. That weird feeling is a good thing, it means I am marching to the beat of my own drum. In order to live a beautiful and creative life, that is something we could all do a little more often.

Originally written in Collective Journaling at The Stoa

Passing the Message was originally published in Op-Ed on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

“I am the blood running through my veins and the vibrations of my ear drums and the air in my lungs”. These thoughts bring about a deep feeling of appreciation. I am fascinated by the capability of my body to run certain systems without input from the consciously-thinking part of my brain. Another thought I revisit often is the fact that microbes in my gut influence my actions in the 3-D world. Most people have hardly taken the time to really understand that one. The reality of life is unnerving and it can expose our deepest fears. This is why some people choose blissful ignorance; life is more enjoyable when we forget about the bad stuff. Or is it? Sometimes we find that experiencing tragedy or being exposed to adversity is what gives us the capacity to appreciate our achievements. It is by knowing how bad things can be that we can acknowledge our blessings.

The real challenge for me is trying to appear entertained by whats going on in the real world when there are so many curiosities in the land of the unseen. I think this might be why philosophical people focus on nourishing and testing the body limits. I have incorporated embodiment practices into my day, like shifting the water from warm to cold at the end of my shower to experience and breathe through the discomfort. Over time, I have noticed this has become more automatic and less difficult to do. The same thing happened with journaling and meditation. It used to be such a daunting idea to do something everyday, but when I started with one thing and added more gradually, it is just part of the routine.

The truth is, there are things we do everyday that we shouldn’t. Not taking notice of those things is what makes us feel like we have no time. Losing track of time used to only happen when we were so enchanted by life that we lost the sense of time. Even a book could give us that sensation of time standing still. Now we can lose track of time by being too many places at once, mentally. We can literally think ourselves into inaction. This is something I struggle with: a lot of ideas buzzing around with little action taken to bring any of them out of the thought realm. From what I understand, I am in good company when it comes to having this condition. Maybe its ADHD; maybe its just the result of a monkey brain bombarded with information. Sometimes we just need to remind ourselves that keeping all systems on line is a miracle and anything beyond that is magical. We have to keep reminding ourselves of this and not become dull to the fact that we are truly miraculous beings.

Originally written in Collective Journaling at The Stoa

Stay Curious was originally published in Op-Ed on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The Daily Meditation today was pretty rude. “Think of something you did that you regret”. Happy Friday Sam Harris! Thanks for the shitty reminder of my inadequacy.

Then suddenly, an epiphany! These are more thoughts on top of the thoughts that I had whilst thinking of the things I regret. I was judging the meditation. I was having additional thoughts that were of a similar mood to the memories I was evoking. Not an ideal way to start a Friday morning or as some might claim “the entire weekend”. The thing is… we have to get used to those times when things don’t go the way we would like. Even though they really happened, those memories have no control over my life and they do not define me. In fact, I can kind of start to giggle about those instances now, even though at the time I felt like my entire world was shattering around me. The point of the meditation was to get out of the thought pattern by realizing those memories are just more thoughts.

You know who are some of the funniest people in the world? People that work with dead or dying things. I’ve been in the presence of many people that work with dead things (as is the life of someone that pursues a degree in biology)-most of them, funny af. Having a relationship with Death means being more aware of the fact that it could happen at any time. When we lose touch with Death, we begin to forget about it. Its like a long lost friend; one day you went to the playground and never went back. (I once wrote a Poem about this from the perspective of Death.)

It isn’t comfortable to visit with the bad places in our mind but its so necessary. Not just Death, we tend not to want to visit anything that makes us feel uncomfortable. And yet there is something in me enjoys this kind of disruption. Quick change is thrilling. Dismantling everything and beginning fresh is much more interesting than fixing whats broken in an old system. I am not the only one that feels this way. Slow and steady progress continues down a trajectory and disruption set us off on a completely new adventure.

Originally written in Collective Journaling at The Stoa

Schrödinger Road was originally published in Op-Ed on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I can tell there is more that goes along with the conversations that are being had than what I’m being told. As has been the case my entire life, it feels like my family is trying to hide an ugly truth. They have always tried to hide me from the darker parts of life. Its probably the reason I am so interested in uncovering them.

Usually when I suspect my family is doing something, its actually something I am doing but projecting on them. I don’t think this is an exception, and since I can’t know what people won’t tell me, the only thing I can do is figure out what I’m hiding. What conversation am I avoiding out of a fear that it won’t go well? Or perhaps, what conversations have I had in the past that I felt were incomplete? I can think of a lot of them actually and most of them involve men.

The men in my life were abused as children. I was thinking yesterday about how badly little boys were treated only few decades ago. It was acceptable behavior for humans to hit other humans, and the weakest would beat up the children. Girls didn’t have it much better, but both my dad and my grandpa have expressed to me that they had to protect their little sister from the beatings. There was a general consensus that boys saved girls. Imagine the amount of pressure that puts on a little boy? I mean I get it, boys (on average) grow up to be stronger than girls (on average), but it doesn’t make the badge of honor any lighter.

There’s a lot of anger towards the feminine in my energy field that I’ve only just begun to heal. I sense what seems like a desire to shame her. I know I’m personally not worthy of such treatment, but I understand where that is coming from. I can see the little boy sitting in isolation clenching his fists while tears stream down his face. I know he has developed an attachment to his thoughts because no one has helped him learn to process his emotions. In fact, he may as well be learning from a pack of wolves when his mother bites and scratches him out of rage. You might think this story is an exception, but it was all too normal for children to be mistreated.

Then that generation of abused children went on to raise children and now we have a generation of children that are never wrong. Parents and teachers used to be on a team against the children, then through the 90s and 00s, the parents and children were on a team against the teacher. Of course now, the Children and the Teacher are on a team against the parents; decades and decades and decades of unprocessed trauma evolving and getting worse. Instead of “healing the inner-child” we’ve just been trying to give it more power to be a tyrant, just the same. Impulses of children are running the world.

I thank God for the ability to see these things from this perspective. I’m grateful to be capable of such deep compassion and empathy. I honor the Divinely Feminine and the Divinely Masculine within me. I see the duality and I see how they come together. With this ability to dissociate from being offended, I can see within others when that hurt is present. I can see that they actually feel that way and I know its about something much deeper than that which is being presented. I was inadvertently trained to detect these things.

Damsel in Distress was originally published in Op-Ed on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

This is the day of the first harvest and the first day of the month of August.

Of course, Christianity has its own version of this holiday as many dates were co-opted, so that those cultures and communities celebrating their own traditions were actually celebrating a Christian Holy Day. We could give the benefit of the doubt and say they just wanted to join in but couldn’t pronounce Lughnasadh and since there was a lot of bread they called it “Lammas” as in /loaf mass/. I don’t know much more about this holiday but I like the theme. Harvests are the result of a lot of time, energy, diligence, and patience.

For so long, I have wondered how spirituality, religion, and God play a part in my life. After living in a majority Muslim country, I wondered if the messages were just lost in translation. I often think about what was on my mind during that plane ride back to the United States. “Maybe God is Love, Jesus is Faith and the Holy Spirit is Hope.” I think I experienced an existential crisis a that tender age of thirteen. I didn’t know how to talk about these things, there were no words. The atheists would ridicule the thought of God and Christians would say I’m going to Hell for not believing in God. Neither approachable. This led me on my own journey to find my Self.

Now I am grateful for that language barrier because I can bridge the gap. I feel like I am living up to my true potential when I attempt to decipher and translate the ancient messages through meditation and contemplation. I am honored to use my time to explore the unknown realm of the spiritual world. I only hope that more people will want to join me.

The First Harvest was originally published in Op-Ed on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The desire to do so is completely gone. No Delta 8 either; I’m still honestly not even sure what that shit is other than tar that I was sucking into my lungs so I wouldn’t feel anymore. Because I’ve quit before, I know this feeling. I no longer have the urge to go buy a pack or a vape. It took a while to get here again. How did I do it? Well, I’m not exactly sure when this process started, I just know I haven’t smoked at all this week. I did nothing to initiate this process as far as I’m aware. No goals were set to slowly ween myself off of them. I didn’t tell a bunch of people so that I was held accountable. I just gently nudged at my subconscious to help me understand why I was doing it in the first place. That’s what I’ve figured out. I can feel again. I move through moods instead of staying in one very dull state.

One of the main factors contributing to my success is that I accepted the idiosyncrasies of other people around me. I started to see everyone as children in adult bodies. I became a mother in my own mind, even to my own mother (the sweetest child of all). My grandpa, for example, is not selfish and arrogant, he’s in pain and confused about why he can no longer put sentences together. He isn’t self aware enough to recognize this to be the truth, but I know it is because I am Divinely guided. When we take on the mind of the Observer, we no longer take offense when people act out of impulse. In fact, we almost expect it and we become gentle. By allowing others to be as they are, the stress of disliking their behavior goes away. We no longer feel responsible for changing things, we accept them and love them regardless of their faults. By doing this, I was able to accept the things that would normally make me feel like I needed a smoke.

It cant be that simple can it? The answer is yes, but in writing this I never intended to be giving advise to others, just making an observation that may be relateable. Its a pattern of thought that leads us to act on our bad habits. I still have others. I still feel like I need coffee in the morning because I love the taste. I still check my phone incessantly to make sure I don’t miss out on a moment when someone else wants my attention. But I’m also adding in wonderful habits like learning to read music and writing out affirmations daily. I still meditate twice a day and I think that mindfulness has also created space for me to find joy in life without inhaling toxic fumes into my lungs. I treat my body like a temple. I cleaned my space and reorganized. I created a new mental landscape and reminded myself I no am longer that person that smokes. Its all mental; our bad habits are programmed.

Patterns of Thought was originally published in Op-Ed on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I am feeling deeply conflicted and am brewing in an existential crisis. When I first left my ten year relationship, I attempted to live with my sister. When that didn’t work out because both of our shadows attacked each other, I attempted to live with various friends. Once again, the volatility of our emotions ran high and I was forced to move into my grandparents backyard. At first it seemed like a temporary fix, but I started to notice how useful I could be here. I began working for my dad and taking care of small tasks for my mom and grandparents.

I went from the manic euphoria of new-found freedom with the release of a toxic relationship, directly into the sobering and somewhat degrading experience of being in the care of my parents again. Looking back, I realize that I was scared to trust anyone else besides family at that point. I felt like I couldn’t trust myself anymore and therefore I could no longer trust the world in general. I decided that the only way back to sanity was for me to shut the fuck up and listen to my elders. To me, it seemed like the best way to ride the wave of destiny was to take my place in the natural order of lineage. For a while it worked, but of course, my family isn’t perfect.

The time has come for me to fly the coop, only I haven’t prepared for that. My grandparents and parents won’t want me to go where there is risk involved, but I cannot stand the constriction of predictability. I have stuck around for long enough but my patience is wearing thin. If I am not happy then I need to find that within myself. Unfortunately, my grandparents’ are so unwell most of the time, its a huge drain on my ability to be happy. Doesn’t that sound fucking selfish? I mean… it kind of is and I have to be okay with that. I am clinging on to family because i think they need me but the truth is I am scared. I am scared that I need them. I am terrified that my decisions in life aren’t going to be the right decisions.

That’s the deep underlying truth. I have begun to create terrible stories in my head about how they are trying to manipulate me into staying here so they can keep tabs on me. That may be partly true, but I also know they would never want to hold me back from my dreams. I know they would never want to keep me just for the sake of having an extra set of hands around. They want me to be happy. They love me so much they don’t want me to get hurt again. At times that can feel like I’m being smothered but I am so lucky to be so loved. If I fuck up again, they will still love me. I am loved unconditionally. Even if it wasn’t by them, I can look deep within and see an endless well of compassion from the Divine. I am so fortunate to have tears in my eyes when I think about leaving or losing family members. It is in this sorrow that I know I will miss what I have when its gone, and there is nothing I can do to change that. No amount of time spent just hanging around waiting for the inevitable is going to make it any easier to live on without them.

Originally written in Collective Journaling at The Stoa

Til Its Gone was originally published in Op-Ed on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I think she is going to be okay but she also might be there over the weekend. To be honest, this full moon was really physically intense. My mom had a bad case of Covid-19. This was about a week after my grandma went and got tested because she was suffering from a sore throat. When the tests for Covid, Strep, and regular flu came back negative, Grandma was left to believe that she was just having a bad case of allergies. So a week later when my mom started having a sore throat, she assumed it was the same for her. Now whether or not grandma actually had Covid and got a false negative, we may never know, but mom went along with this hypothesis of sinus infection for a few days.

When she noticed her symptoms were getting worse, she got grandma to run to the local pharmacy for medicine for the cough. The way grandma explains it is they “mixed her something up”. I am not so sure that’s how things work in the pharmacy anymore but I find it endearing that grandma thinks that. I just imagine this is the way things used to be, but now we have standard labels and precise milligram strengths. Whatever the pharmacist mixed up actually did help. Mom did finally go get tested and turned up positive. All of this happening during the lead up to the full moon. At that point, I decided it was best for me to take one to ensure I wasn’t an asymptomatic carrier. This also gave me a good excuse to not go to work on the day of this really intense full moon. Even though my mom’s camper is completely separate from mine, we have shared spaces like the shower and the kitchen.

The day before mom’s covid results came in, grandma fell. I wrote about what kinds of conversations that has led to here. I had a really long cry about my mom being so sick. Its all very overwhelming to be in the presence of so many ailments. Part of me wants to help, part of me sees these experiences as preventative medicine for me. This is how the axis of Cancer and Capricorn are appearing in my experience. There’s this deep desire to put others that I love before me, especially my mother and grandmother (very Cancerian). I want to nurture and care for them because I know they made sacrifices in their life for me. Now that the moon has moved out of Capricorn (responsibility) and into Aquarius (rebellion), I am feeling into what liberation from these chains looks like.

I am very attached to family. At times in my life, they’ve been the only ones there for me. I have the type of family that always helps out. In fact, they often give too much of themselves to others, including me. I also noticed an extreme attachment to the property I grew up on. My dad still has the nine acres of land I grew up on in Georgia. Last time I visited, I felt like it was a reunion between me and all the trees I once interacted with everyday. I could feel the pain of potentially having to part ways with that property if my dad decided to sell it. It felt like these were more family members I will lose. In a very detached Aquarius sort of way, I’ve begun to realize that those attachments are the underlying sauce for my suffering. I fear losing them instead of enjoying them while they were here. This incessant need I have to try to fix things for them leads to them doing the same for me.

So begins the labor pains. As my grandparents continue their journey to the unknown new frontier of the afterlife, I am becoming something different. I have to treat this as thought its a new birth for me, which involves feelings of constriction until I break out. Rather than squirming and struggling, I’d much prefer to relax and allow life to take me to where I am headed. Just like with quick sand, the more we flail about, the deeper we sink in. I’m leaning into the stillness and listening into the quiet. My North Node is asking me to get comfortable in the uncomfortable stages of the transformation.

Originally written in Collective Journaling at The Stoa

The Aftermath was originally published in Op-Ed on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Journaling is the reason I have a routine. Thanks to The Stoa I have a place to do this every weekday morning. There’s usually at the very least three people journaling together, sitting in silence and preparing a coherent contemplation. I’m very grateful for Peter Limberg for providing this space. It inspired me to open up space in other parts of my life. At first, as a practice with conversation, which then became more of a mode in which I operate. Rather than unloading all of my thoughts and opinions on others, I held space for them and theirs. Having a place and friends to vent my grievances allowed me to provide that for others.

Then I began holding space for group meditation. Every morning and every evening (on the 6’s) I play the daily meditation from the Waking Up App for members of a discord server that I love. Sam Harris is another person for whom I am very grateful. The consistency of these meditations gives even more structure to my day. I find that I’m much more creative now with these two elements of my routine alone. Instead of cramming more into my day, I allow my day to unfold like a beautiful chapter of a book. The ritual, the devotional; the fact that these cycles are deliberate and are able to connect me with the Eternal One. Just like the sun rises every morning, without fail, I feel called to participate in these daily activities in honor of that reliable source.

I remember in university I would schedule my day so that I could accomplish the most. By my final semester, I was a full time student, taking 21 credit hours because I could borrow no more money for another semester to complete my degree. On top of that, I was a volunteer for the International Studies Certificate Program, an intern for the Uteach program, a volunteer at a farm on Sundays, and I was working two jobs. I would serve tables at a local restaurant a few days and nights a week, and on Saturdays I was slinging supplements at health food store. It was thrilling but also stressful. I took great pride in telling people all of the things that occupied my time. I’m still a little pretentious in that way when I tell people that I meditate daily. Part of my identity comes from these practices, but I am no longer so masculine in my approach to life. I no longer feel like I have to conquer her.

Instead, I work with her. We are co-creating a sturdy foundation from which I can flourish into the beautiful woman I was born to be. I’m not looking for a man to protect me anymore, that backfired. I’m also no longer looking for an escape through drugs or other distractions. I’ve been sinking in deeply to this body, having reverence for the amount of time it takes Time to pass by. There’s no rush, there’s no hurry. I’m here now and this place gets me to where I’m going. Its a process and I have a greater appreciation for that now that I’ve taken the time to settle in and get used to being uncomfortable. In fact, another daily routine I have is to turn the shower to cold water at the end before I dry off. Its shocking and I used to really hate cold showers, but now I look forward to that blast of electric energy I feel when my heart beats faster and my inhales deepen. Bringing myself back into the present moment means feeling into the five senses and taking note of what they are experiencing. This body is my vehicle and she is aware of more than I give her credit.

I imagine this idea of opening space and meditation is something people will continue to “just consider”. Those that refuse to try will never know the benefit. They will continue to make excuses or assert that they “meditate sometimes”. Its all about consistency with these types of things. The body needs to become accustomed to the habits and only then do we notice how our lives begin to change. Fortunately, there’s plenty of time to take up the practice or to continue transforming.

“A woman’s highest calling is to lead a man to his soul, so as to unite him with Source. Her lowest calling is to seduce, separating man from his soul and leave him aimlessly wandering. A man’s highest calling is to protect woman, so she is free to walk the earth unharmed. Man’s lowest calling is to ambush and force his way into the life of a woman.”

― Cherokee Proverb

As an Astrologer, I look to archetypes for guidance. While I don’t subscribe to Woke Ideology of trying to eliminate the use of words like ‘man’ and ‘woman’, the above proverb can also be taken to symbolically represent the body and the mind.

A body’s highest calling is to lead a mind to the soul so as to unite him with Source. Her lowest calling is to seduce, separating the mind from the soul and leaving him aimlessly wandering. A mind’s highest calling is to protect the body, so she is free to walk the earth unharmed. A mind’s lowest calling is to ambush and force his way into the life of the body and body’s of others, I’ll add.

Originally written in Collective Journaling at The Stoa

Lead the Mind to Water and Let the Body Drink was originally published in Op-Ed on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.