Burst, bloom. Happy New Year.

It is the last day of the year. And what a year, she said with a sigh, before taking a grateful gulp of whatever was in the cup (it was coffee). This year has been full of love, the kind that saves, and the kind of pain that saves, too. And sorrow, and joy, and the rug as it flies out from under you and suddenly you're floating. This year has been open, open, openness. Raw and riotous, like a wound, like a bud warmed by the sun; burst, bloom. Have you ever watched a flower bloom? Time lapse photography is a gift. It's slow going at first, the bravest petals unfurl like toes testing the waters. Then suddenly a symphony crescendo, a sudden sighburst, bloom, and it's opened to the light, the bees, the shock of cold air on pink petals. Feeling, for the first time, it's own glorious weight. That's what this year has been like. Open, like a sigh.

I am still learning all of last year's lessons, and diuble. I said I wanted to let sorrow dig a well in my chest where I could find deep and nourishing streams. Instead, time bought me callouses and cement. I am still learning to be soft. I am still learning to be mindfull. I am still learning to let loving kindness be my first reaction. I should tattoo that on my knee for when it jerks.

For Christmas The Mister brought me home a sweet bouquet of white flowers, sprigs of juniper, and two mystery buds. Time has passed and the sneaky buds have begun to bloom; pink carnations. Shock of color. Riotous sigh.

A year in retrospect seems like the right thing to do right now. With my ever faithful helper cat close at hand, I wanted to share it with you, because I have a lot to say about it.

A week or so ago, when asking about clarity and my lack of it, I pulled the 8 of swords upright-what was blocking my clarity? Me. And it was true. And it felt heavy, like a weight you've been carrying for so long and then someone says "wow that must be heavy ".

But today she's reversed, like a cup whose contents have been spilt, allowed to return to the earth. That energy is gone, that weight set down by the road side. Release. Burst, bloom. Walk away.

Fast forward to the Home card in a position I dubbed "what to let go". Why do I have to let go of cozy comfy feelings she whined and cast here eyes out the window. Okay, take another look. This is not, per se, about a home with a mailbox. That's a house. This is about letting go of the notion that home is anyplace outside of yourself. Home is not an address, or a familiar block (as a Taurus that's hard to say), and as nice as that line "home is wherever I'm with you" is, that's not home either. Home is in your breath, the cathedral of your ribs, the glory of your cells as they flash into being and then die, like stars. This new truth will keep you safe.

The three of cups landed in the "darkness" spot. Yes, I've neglected my craft. But that's okay. It was a hard year and I couldn't find up.

How to combine the light and the dark? Ace of swords. Grasp that which wounded you. Embrace your suffering. The truth will set you free; speak yours.

What to take with me? Wisdom. These experiences want to make me wiser. Those lessons want to be learned. Compile them where they can be easily accessed for future needs. They can be written in a book, and they are. But I like the idea the Monarch butterflies had; store your wisdom in your dna, let it live in your cells like a map to guide you long after mountains crumble. Tattoo them on your knee, so when it jerks, you have a wise response.

To what end? Healing. Simple. How beautiful. Burst, bloom. Riotous sigh.

(Before I go, look at all those birds. A Raven, a Swallow, a sparrow or some other LBJ. Here I sit now, at my window, watching crows and gulls swoop and dive in the blue, clean-slate sky. What of their daily struggle, when they let go and glide, and are this effortless on the winds? Riotous sigh.)

If you're there, thank you for reading. I hope your new year is full of love, and peace, and deep breaths.
-A.H.