Dispatch from the Wild Interior: October 19, 2020

Queen of Wands: The lion behind the smile. The flower that is also a fruit. On the ground a stick, in the hand a weapon. In what ways have you been taught that delicate is weak, that power means brute? How can you reconcile the might of your spirit with the vulnerability of the body? The lie, as always, is the binary, the either/or. The truth is always an and. You are tough and terrified, breakable and bold, beast and queen, exhausted and able beyond measure. What is possible if you let all your selves meet in this moment, in the hand that plucks the fallen branch from the ground, makes from it pointer, staff, baton, rod, wand?