I recently looked up the rest of the Mary Oliver poem that ends in "tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" because that was the only part I had ever heard, and it turns out the rest of The Summer Day  is about going for a walk and lying about in the grass. That's what she planned to do with her one wild and precious life. I feel like it gets misapplied a lot. As the weather grows cooler, I've been thinking about foraging, as a concept. I am a terrible gardener. Even as a child I loathed getting up early and tramping through the dewy grass to the dusty garden to water and pull weeds. As an adult, I stumbled onto the one plant that likes the climate of my front windows but claim no personal credit for their flourishing. If we ever move I may have to leave them here, to ensure their survival. There's also a pot of mint by my front step that survives on rain water or when one of the kids points out that it's a bit crunchy. Plants...

I tend to present as a disorganized person, especially if you're sharing space with me. As a kid I would move from project to project, leaving a trail of stacked art supplies and overturned books in my wake, waiting for me to come back and finished them (which I would... eventually). When I had an office job, my cubicle was a small explosion of incomplete tasks, all labeled with sticky notes so I knew what they were and when they were due. I have at times tried to force change, but that kind of change never sticks. What does stick, however, is paying attention to how I naturally am and figuring out how to harmoniously coexist with it, while also getting the stuff done that needs to get done. I do like lists - within reason. I do like planning - to a certain extent. And that's okay. So this month is about frameworks - the lined pages of daily life that are mine to write on what I will, without preprinted dates or prompts, but also without slanting determinedly toward the bottom ...

For most of my life, I tried to be who other people told me I should be. They arrived with pretty boxes that had labels like woman, daughter, wife, mother, or Christian,  and said that the only way to be good/happy/accepted was to get into the box. So I did. After all, I wanted to be accepted and happy, and seen as good (I was also a child). But while there are probably people out there who are the same shape as those boxes, I am not one of them. The only way I fit into a box of any kind is in pieces, and even then a lot has to be left out. It's very difficult to function, much less be happy, when you're like my four year old's Mr Potato Head toy, which is missing the match to every pair and (most critically) the potato body that they go into. But I'm not a Mr Potato Head, and I finally gathered my component parts back together and put the boxes into the recycle bin so they can have a new life as something else, hopefully something less oppressive. And I've found th...

Heat waves are rolling across the US South and rippling up off the pavement and high humidity means that walking outside results in the dampening of a downpour without the accompanying refreshment. After a too-brief spring, I'm closing not only the windows but the curtains as well and staying inside as much as possible. In lieu of a beach vacation, we're filling up a kiddie pool on the back deck on the tolerable mornings, and getting our dose of fantasy at the library. Personally, I'm doing a lot of reading, napping, and rethinking impulse desires that would require leaving the house. This is the season when I usually revisit my spiritual practices, examining what's working and what isn't, and what's changed over the past year (in terms of my practice, and my needs). A tune-up to make sure that everything is in alignment and running smoothly. I'll be sharing more than usual about my practices on Instagram , although I plan to write about it here, as well. I...

  One of my favorite things about myself is my curiosity. To get astrological about it, my Sun, Mercury, Jupiter, and eleventh house (of friends and social structures) are all in Gemini. Gemini is curious and adaptable, and that very much describes my approach to friendship, and to life in general. I love to explore, and to ask questions, to learn new things, and to talk about what I've learned and what I thought about it. This month has a few fun things planned, and I'm hopeful for spontaneous adventures, as well.

Some days it's too warm to keep the windows open, and I can once again drink my iced coffee without needing a jacket to do so comfortably. It's the month before birthday season (three out of the five of us are June or July babies) and the last chance to do outdoor things like go to the park or on a hike before it gets too hot and buggy for a few months. I've been relishing the slowness. I enjoyed last month -- traveling, exploring, having things every weekend to go and do, having meetings (Zoom and in person) multiple nights each week... but it's also nice to slow down and listen to the birds sing while lounging in a hammock. So we're reading and crafting and going on walks, playing outside and opening the windows whenever we can, which is not very much different from what we usually do and honestly I'm beginning to really like that.

Tulip sculpture seating, recently installed in downtown Little Rock March was an extremely redemptive month for me. Two years ago it felt like things were finally beginning to fall into place... and then I was trapped in place by the pandemic. In retrospect, I'm grateful, because that gave me the space to really figure out who I am and what it is that I want and then move in a completely different direction than I was then, but at the time it was crushing. But this time was different. I had online gatherings of various sorts (classes, moon circles, tarot gatherings, a spiritual practice cohort, I played a TTRPG - first time ever - with an internet friend) multiple times each week, and in person things too. I drove through a blizzard for an aura portrait, went to yoga, crafted and created and went on lots of walks, and took the kids shopping for new clothes and new bedding. It was incredibly refreshing for my extroverted soul. Today I'm on my way to Atlanta for a mini conference...

My youngest needed a hair cut but was not feeling the trimmers, so to help him feel better about it he cut my hair and I cut his (and then cleaned up mine). Hence the spring buzz! While driving my middle to his ninja gymnastics class a few weeks ago, he announced, "Mom, I'm tired of our house." Some probing revealed that he was tired of being at home all the time, and wanted to travel ("I just wanna stay at someone else's house. For, like, three weeks.")  I feel like my hibernation project was a personal success, and one I'd like to continue, but we're all ready to come out now. We're cleaning our drawers and closets, and getting ready for my yearly attempt to stay ahead of the bugs (hopefully I'm starting early enough to suppress both ants and mosquitoes), and finding ourselves drifting outside more often. There are still cold days, and will be for awhile, but they're a different kind of cold. Less stern, somehow. We're getting pande...

One thing that I did in January was "omen days," which involved journaling and pulling cards to gauge the themes and energy of each month in the year ahead. While I do not believe that tarot cards have the ability to predict  the future, I do know that where and how I am right now does effect where and how I'll be in the future (barring change) so I did it more as an exercise than as something I took very seriously. The journaling and cards for February suggested some sort of shadow work, which was not a particularly terrible prospect, since I like knowing where I could be better. The timing felt like a bit of a downer, but I was almost looking forward to finding what inner demon I needed to dispatch. Except as January progressed, I was given a very consistent message. Stop trying to make things better. Notice what is already good. That goes for you, too - you aren't in constant need of improvement. Enjoy yourself. Ex cuse me? I was more offended than I had been when...

The calendar says that it's winter, and Day has begun its slow crawl back toward spring, although here in the US south there are still plenty of days that I can open the windows. Even so, I've decided to try something new this year: hibernating. I noticed last year with all the staying home that we didn't get the Yearly Ick, that thing children love to share that they contract once a month and takes three weeks to properly get over before beginning again. I'm not sure why I had accepted it as inevitable, but having once escaped it I'm not eager to go back. So, until the kids are older, we're staying home in the winter. Especially the little one. Stir crazy as I become when I'm stuck at home due to weather or car trouble or other external circumstances, I am actually looking forward to this - probably because it's voluntary and planned. I have a stash of brightly colored knitting projects, and enough books to read one myself and one aloud to the kids each...

It's sparkle season! I really do love this time of year. I'm going to do my best to thoroughly embrace my favorite parts (the lights, the adventures, the celebration, the act of pushing back against the encroaching darkness and reminding it that longer days are coming) while evading the parts I dislike (mostly other people's expectations).  I was able to start this season with a lovely combination of both people and nature (two faves!) and I'm hoping to carry that energy forward. To acknowledge the shadows without being swallowed by them, to wrap myself and my household in the best of the glitter and lights.

  I made it an entire month without using our heat or air conditioning, but one day last week I finally gave in, closed the windows and turned on the furnace. It's a twice yearly ritual - embracing the changing of the seasons by really feeling the shift. (I am alone in my enjoyment of this tradition and have to watch the thermostat to keep it from being surreptitiously switched back on). But now it's time to get cozy. I've got a (rewarmed) cup of coffee to hand, I'm wearing my favorite sweatshirt, and we had HelloFresh shepherd's pie for dinner and it was so  satisfying. I tend to be somewhat withdrawn during Scorpio season, preferring solitary campfires and quiet evening journaling to going and doing. It's kind of a gentle wind down from the energy of Leo, the determination of Virgo, and the airiness of Libra - before we dive brightly back in for Sagittarius and lights and gathering and delightfulness. So this month I'm looking at roots - the figurative kin...

Ah, balance. At this point you would think that I would have learned, from experience, that I cannot choose the way in which I will learn something new... and yet. Here we are. At the end of a week which I spent with a repetitive stress injury (from completing a project in a self imposed but still unreasonable amount of time), unable to hold a pen, a needle, a hook, a book, my phone... and unable to sit or sleep comfortably. I've walked slowly around the house, selecting items to donate or throw away, with my left hand - because that is all I could do. My sleep data looks like Morse code, sent by a newbie who left long pauses while looking up how to do each letter in between transmissions. So I still plan to write about choosing books by their covers, my new favorite lunch spot, and other aspects of controlled balance - but I'm doing so more humbly than I did in my journaled monthly outline, with more openness to whatever lessons the Universe might choose to hand me (please, th...

Happy September! In my mind, I associate this month with open windows and the scents of school supplies and falling leaves, although the pencils really happened last month and the only reason leaves are falling right now in the US South is because it's been 100*F and the trees are all kinds of done with that nonsense (so the windows are staying tightly closed, too). It's still the beginning of my favorite season, though. A time to switch from the high energy of August and begin the slow turn inward for winter, this is when I generally do my Gathering. Neither nuts nor potatoes to fill my cellar, but books for my shelves to occupy the lengthening evenings, and small beautiful things to enjoy when the world goes drab. This is also when I attempt to put systems into place to help all of us in this little house coexist peaceably, setting up schedules and chores and routines for myself and for the kids. Some years that goes better than others--I'm feeling good about this year, t...

A year ago, I revamped my blog and at the same time began a journey of self discovery that was long overdue. I worked my way from the outside in, using the twelve astrological houses as a guide--and while I was expecting this to be a perpetual onion or spiral staircase, it turned out to be more of an unpacking. There was a lot of journaling, a lot introspection, and a few terrifyingly untethered months where I struggled to separate something I desperately wanted to keep from the grasp of something that I absolutely could no longer tolerate. So here we are again, and here I am, a wholly different person than I was a year ago. I haven't shared a tremendous amount about the process, since it was  a process, but now that I've gotten my personality down out of the box it was stashed in in my mental attic with no intention of ever putting it back, introductions may be in order. Hi! I'm Sarah Jo. My pronouns are she/they. I live in central Arkansas. Some words that describe me (I ...

An interesting thing that's come of the last year and a half's forced cloistering has been a fairly extensive time of self discovery, and a dramatic clean out of all the junk ideas I've accumulated and a dusting off of the solid core beliefs at the bottom. There were fewer of them than I thought - I didn't realize how many things I'd been handed (and picked up) along the way. While my childhood (and as much of my current life as is possible) was spent largely outside, in terms of my inner life I feel I've been a cicada larvae, crawling around underground, exploring roots and dark places without any sort of context for understanding the bigger picture or how it all worked together. But I have begun to tunnel toward the surface. Gratifyingly, I've found that I'm not alone. I had been living in the crushing isolation of burial for so long that it didn't occur to me there might be a resurrection at some point. But there has been a collective emergence, a...

In her essay "Feel me. See me. Hear me. Reach me." Roxane Gay writes, "I don't know that there is someone in world with whom I have a lot in common, especially not in the ways that would make sense on the kinds of websites where you enter some key characteristics and preferences and might somehow meet your match. I haven't even tried, which I do not see as a bad thing. I love being with someone who is endlessly interesting because we are so different. Wanting to belong to people or a person is not about finding a mirror image of myself." When I read that, I felt like I could have written it.   I love being with someone who is endlessly interesting because we are so different.  One of my first jobs was at a yarn store, where the owners and almost all of the customers had kids and grandkids my age. I relished sharing a table with them and listening to their stories. When I spent a summer working in New York City, my coworkers, roommate, and church all took pit...

Something I've been pondering lately is the concept of comfort.  What is it, exactly? How can I teach my kids about it in healthy ways? How can I make sure that my leisure doesn't take from someone else's life? It's a lot of heavy thinking for something that's supposed to be simple and cozy. But what sparked it was noticing that a lot of my childhood favorites have been ruined by knowledge - media with slurs and ideologies I now know to be offensive and wrong, unethical manufacturing practices and appropriative designs that cause me to abruptly Google things that I'm wearing or that super cute blanket I'd love to buy and snuggle under, even chocolate isn't safe since the maker of my (former) favorite treat is one of three companies currently being sued for child labor and exploitation. Ignorance may be bliss, but knowledge is power, and I'd rather be empowered by hard truths than rely on a surface level happiness that comes at someone else's exp...

A phrase I used to say often was "where's your sense of adventure?!" usually in response to pushback against one of my ideas. Multiple people have affectionately threatened to put it on a T-shirt for me. Gradually though I began to crumble under the weight of being repeatedly outvoted and stopped presenting my ideas since it seemed no one wanted them. And at last I stopped asking myself where my own sense of adventure had gone. I knew that Helen Keller wrote, "Life is either a daring adventure or nothing," but I wasn't familiar with the rest of the quote until I looked that part up: "To keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable." I've faced a lot of change, and I've generally done so with denial, whining, or a bulldozer approach. Those haven't proven particularly effective. I am fairly reasonable about changing myself - altering outdated beliefs, and integrating new inform...

March marks the one year anniversary of lock downs and social distancing for us. Clearly it  hasn't "gone away in a few weeks" as hoped, but we're adjusting (I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or not). After all of the snow we had last month, I'm clinging to the belief that that was Winter's way of coming back in and shouting "and another thing!" and we'll be able to move in the general direction of Spring now. Pandemic Winter is wearing - at least with Pandemic Spring we can go outside and enjoy nature without needing to wear every layer we own. So this month I'm exploring peace and escape - the healthy kinds. I'm still not sure what that will look like, here or in my actual life, but I'm looking forward to delving into it. And, as per my usual, sprinkling a liberal amount of glitter (literal or figurative) on top.