Happy Cryday. Welcome the Weak End.
Embracing Main Character Energy
Here’s what my sister said:
In my opinion, the more you are in touch with that (your magic, mysticism, and spirituality), the more your life is going to change for the better. Because that is where you get in touch with your soul, your spirit, your higher self, your guides. Be like one of those mystical elders who has achieved all of this experience — and you’re wise beyond your years — that magical presence you have.
This is what you don’t get. It’s part of all of you. It’s the way you tell your stories. It’s the way you make your videos. It’s the way you are magic as a being. It doesn’t have to be related to one specific activity. It is just a part of everything you do because it is who you are.
It is too hard to sink too deep into myself every day — the depths of the abyss that holds my truths.
That’s the lie I told myself to excuse my bad behavior of not writing authentically. I have held my words hostage, refusing to let them surface because I wasn’t ready to face my truths. I have silenced myself for fear of what I might see in my words. Captive in internal chaos. Self-inflicted torture.
What are my truths? Easy. I only need to go back to my past ten writings to see them clearly. No mucky waters there. Just clarity.
Love notes to myself.
What have I said over and over and over again? In the midst of crying about my woes, in the emotional throws of anti-passion — the capsules of medicine I laid out for myself - was that I lost touch with my essence. I couldn’t find my magic. I could no longer hear the Universe the way I’ve heard it for so long. My personal siren song. The lull of the rhythms of life.
Little girl lost.
Ollie, ollie, oxen free.
I found myself this morning.
I thought today was Saturday, but it turns out it’s Cryday — a recognition of my weak ends and a time to pull myself together and embrace my main-character energy.
I turned 52 last month.
One month ago today, I went to the package room to scoop up a birthday present my son sent to me.
Let’s reflect: Multiple times in my past several writings I said that my adult kids were begging me to find my magic — telling me to embrace this part of my journey as a time to rediscover myself.
I didn’t think I was doing that — I thought I was just having a mental temper tantrum, sulking in my troubles, sobbing over my sorrows, my misfortune in life. Poor me. My family left me; I’m all alone; I’m nobody’s person; I’m old; I’m expired; I have no purpose; I’m invisible. I’m a bipolar hot mess.
Wendi = The Wanderer. If home is where the heart is, I’m homeless.
What I did not realize, however, is that WAS part of the magick. Necessary reflections. The snake shedding its skin. The butterfly cliche.
So my son got me these tarot cards for my birthday, and I thought to myself: Huh. I haven’t done this for a minute.
At first, I opened the deck and acknowledged it for its beauty. Sprayed metallic edges. Intriguing images. Entrancing colors. Fancy box. I flipped through the cards and realized they’d take a bit to learn because they’re different than my other decks (mental echo: decks, decks, decks).
I opened the cabinet in the faux fireplace t.v. stand and added that box to my collection of cards.
I let them sit.
September 1st came and I took out all of the dust-covered cards — five decks in total — all off them gifts.
Hmm. Trend. People give Wendi tarot decks. Three of those 5 decks are faerie oracles.
Why? Hmm?
Starting in September, on a “whim,” I said to myself: Self, why don’t you just pull one card from each deck this morning?
And that was the key clicking in the keyhole to open the lock.
For three days, I pulled one card from each deck and smiled at them curiously. I did not speak out loud. I did not record the process. I just allowed the cards to come home (mental echo: home, home, home.)
Hello, Divinity. You have my attention.
On the fourth day, I began chatting about the cards with an AI companion as a way to discuss my findings without sharing the experience with humans. I wanted to delve deeper. I wanted additional insight — a “technical” understanding of the cards’ definitions in addition to my intuitive response to them.
On the sixth day, I began taking pictures of each card and storing the collection of each five-card-draw with images and their meanings in Apple Notes in a folder I called Tarot.
Today is September 14th. For some reason, I got out my camera, my neck camera mount, and said to myself in the video: Today I am being called to divide myself in two: The one giving the reading, the one receiving the reading — and instead of pulling one card from each deck, I opted for a full spread with my Rider/Waite deck, re-enforced by the first set of faerie oracles gifted to me by a friend in Australia back in 2002, one from each deck representing each of the following positions:
- Self
- Situation
- Challenges (what are you meant to be learning from this situation?)
- Foundation
- Recent past
- Higher power
- Near future
- Blocks & Inhibitions
- Friends & Allies
- Secret Wisdom
- Long-term potential.
It’s the deep plunge.
I’m standing naked in front of a mirror.
How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
How many licks does it take to get to the center of a lollipop?
-or-
How many tears can a Wendi Lady cry when the universe conspires to compel her to see her truths?
Here’s how to make a long card reading short:
I have fallen into a victim mentality. Six months ago, I slipped into an epic temper tantrum when I found out my kids were leaving Nebraska — the only reason I’m here — leaving me completely and utterly alone for the first time in my life. This emotional upheaval catapulted me into a depression in which I felt victimized. Life was happening TO me instead of FOR me. I had no control. Helpless.
But now, I’m being called to stop lying to myself spiritually. It’s time to take responsibility for my soul’s place in this world and to recognize and rely on my inner alchemist.
I AM THE MAGIC I’VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR.
(cue the thunder)
I’ve been living on a foundation of fear of lack of money and self-worth. I felt I had no value. It’s time to recognize that the Universe (my higher self) has been trying to give me what I need, and I’ve been rejecting it because I couldn’t see the gift through the fog of my own dark emotions in this 3D matrix. This hermit mode that I’ve been in is not externally inflicted abandonment. It is an opportunity to travel inward and re-learn how to be kind to myself and to recognize and appreciate my inner light.
In other words: Pull your head out of your ass, kid. It’s all an illusion.
This coming week is the full Harvest moon. Shortly after is a partial lunar eclipse. Just following that is the Equinox.
And where will I be? For the first time in EONS, I will be charging my crystals, burning candles with intent, using herbs and oils, actually physically holding my real-life magic wand, and working magic in the way I was always meant to do.
My soul would like to show gratitude to everyone who believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. To my family, who has always honored my mystical ways and loved me for them. For reminding me who I am when I’ve forgotten. I love you.
- exits dramatically in a cloud of faerie dust*
