My astrologer friends tell me that the New Moon we had on Sunday night was the biggest astrological event of 2021. I'm not an astrologer, so I don't quite understand all the details about big planets and Aries and the wounded healer. . . But I do understand as an HSP/Empath what it feels like inside me when my city is burning. People are angry, and that anger means action.
I live in the Twin Cities. My city is angry again (or still) and more. Although I could afford to live in the suburbs, I choose to live in the heart of St. Paul where my neighbors are Hmong, and Mexican, and Somali, and Karen, and white. Last year when George Floyd died, I walked the streets of my neighborhood with my dogs and greeted my neighbors. I set up a crystal protection grid around my house as I snuggled in for curfew and prayed for the neighbor kid who drove the streets of the burning city distributing bottled water to protestors. There was something beautiful about how the community came together those late days of May 2020.
Yesterday, and tonight feel very different than last May.
We are in the midst of Derek Chauvin's trial. Our Twin Cities were already on high alert, waiting for something to happen. And then a cop shot Daunte Wright during a traffic stop. This time feels different. It's been almost a year, and people are more angry. The planets agree.
Yesterday when I walked my dogs at 3pm, the neighbors weren't out on their lawns like last year. Instead, I heard sirens and helicopters for the full 30 minutes. I'm not sure if those sirens and helicopters ever stopped. Now, at 4:27am, I can still feel the helicopter blades rumbling my bones, and the screech of the sirens still shivers down my spine and rings in my head. I re-activated my crystal protection grid, and went to bed early. I turned on a yoga nidra meditation and fell asleep to the soft purrs of my two puppies.
And then I woke up at 2:30am. Wide awake.
The siren scream and helicopter rumble still rotating. I don't know if the sounds are real or just empath echoes. It doesn't really matter. I'm awake. I hear the tension of my cities. I feel the fear of my friends who have moved (or still want to move) out to the city into the suburbs. I smell the angst of a society in turmoil. I see flash-backs of cell phones emergency alerts. I taste the bitterness of it all on the back of my tongue like burnt day-old coffee.
So, I'm awake, and I write. Because that's what I do. But more importantly, as I write, I breathe. I breathe deeply. Because that's all I can really do. And I can pray that my deep calm breath can maybe become more contagious than the helicopter rumbles and the siren screams. Perhaps my breath can spill over and make other people breathe. Because I have to believe that if the cop who shot Daunte Wright had been breathing better, she would not have confused her gun for a taser and Daunte Wright's children would still have their daddy.
George Floyd has a message. What he couldn't do, breathe, is the one thing that can heal this planet fully. If everyone would just BREATHE consciously, mindfully, and more, peace would prevail. I wish everyone would listen.
BREATHE
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