January's Judgments

Facing judgments
and a release

I tried something earlier this year. On January 1, I sat down with one of my tarot decks and did a reading for my upcoming year.

So, I'm checking in to see how I'm doing, both personally and with accuracy.

The card for January was Judgement.

This indicated I would be facing some judgements. This could mean that I was being judged, judging others or perhaps even judging myself.

The last part, judging myself, resonated very strongly with me, especially in context of the cards that followed; the Eight of Swords Reversed (letting go of restrictions) and the Hanged Man (surrendering to the what is), plus where I saw myself at that time.

Further experiences I’ve had over this last month seem to fit in the January Judgements predictions. Among them:

• Elements of a short story I began in 2017 seem to be happening now, which could simply be coincidental due to the real-life situation that inspired the story.
• I felt drawn to a new tarot deck which may be connecting me to a new Spirit Guide.
• The number synchronicities I’ve been seeing have shifted into yet a third pattern.

It is what it is

Individually, these would be just interesting events in my life. But, all of these happenings collectively became my own Ten of Wands, a huge bundle becoming almost too heavy to bear.

As I interpreted all of these as spiritual gifts, I began judging myself. Was I worthy of these gifts/abilities? Why me? And now that I was opening them, wtf was I supposed to do with them? I have come to believe they are all part of my higher consciousness, therefore they are part of me which means I can’t very well return or exchange them, in the same way I can’t return an arm or a leg. Can I?

A heavy burden

Let’s imagine that convo, shall we?

Me: Um, hello. I’d like to exchange these gifts.
God/Universe/HigherSelf: Really? Why? Don't you like them?
Me: It's not that; I’m just not comfortable with them.
G/U/HS: What? They don’t fit?
Me: Well, they don’t fit the image I have of me.
G/U/HS: They fit the image I have of you. And, besides, what would you exchange them for? Telekinesis? The ability to disapparate?
Me: I don’t know. What else do you have?
G/U/HS: You have them for a reason, they are embedded in you. And now that you’ve opened them, the decision on how to use them, or use them at all, is entirely up to you.
Me: I just don’t know what to do. I don’t feel worthy.
G/U/HS: The "knowing what to do" is all in your head. Stop overthinking. Just trust that you are worthy. Begin there. And you’ll know what to do. After all, how did you know you wanted to teach?
Me: It just felt right.
G/U/HS: Bingo. All it takes is Faith and Trust. And to believe in yourself.
Me: I’m working on it.
G/U/HS: I know you are. Growth is painful. So is change.
Me: Very.
G/U/HS: I have faith in you. You need it in yourself.
Me: Is that why You gave them to me?
G/U/HS: You catch on quick.
Me: I have just one more question.
G/U/HS: Just one?
Me: Haha. Can you at least give me time to adjust to what I’ve opened before throwing something new at me?
G/U/HS: You’re the one opening the gifts, not me.
Me: Oh.

So, maybe all of these interesting things happening around me are steps for me to accept myself exactly as I am and release any judgments.

Especially of myself.

Well, it seems the Judgment card for January wasn't far off. Let's see what the 8 of Swords Reversed brings in February.

Feeling less restricted

Should be interesting.

A Lesson in Comfort

For about 6 days last month I was so far out of my comfort zone, I felt I could no longer see it.

Which might be a good thing. 

Okay, it probably is a good thing.

The teachers in my former district had authorized a strike over multiple issues. Is a strike ever called over just a single issue?

I remember going on strike in 1989. I remember those difficult decisions of choosing to go without pay for a greater good. I remember those comments on how selfish we were for striking for higher pay by those who didn’t see beyond what we did in the classroom; the countless hours at home preparing lessons, grading papers, calling parents, buying supplies and attending conferences (on our own dime) during our summers off. Or those who didn’t see what else we were striking for; an end to much of the politics that went on behind the scenes in many schools; favoritism/harassment from the principals, restricted use of school equipment, countless non-productive faculty meetings that went on for hours, etc.

I also remember those difficult moments of needing a restroom while picketing and not having one nearby. While I can’t clearly recall how we handled the situation in 1989, I believe my then-principal turned a blind eye and opened a side door for us to use a restroom in the auditorium which technically meant we were crossing the picket line to enter the building and could therefor be subject to disciplinary actions should we return to the line. I heard rumors from my colleagues the current principal was not so sympathetic.

I live in a small gated community across from an elementary school in the same district. While I wanted to support my former colleagues, I didn’t relish the idea of a thirty-five mile commute at 6:30 a.m. again. So, I chose to walk with the teachers across the street. And offer them my home, more specifically, my bathrooms. Well, two of the bathrooms, anyway.

For an introvert, meeting a bunch of new people can be daunting, if not down right intimidating. For an empath, loud noises and others’ unchecked emotions can be draining. And to invite them into my home, if only for a brief but much needed moment or two, was huge. Therefore, picketing with a bunch of new people all chanting, beating drums and other loud implements was overwhelming. But it was still something I wanted to do. Or felt I needed to do, if only to step out of my comfort zone and yes, help out fellow teachers. For an empathic introvert, my reaction to all this would be a true test in self-care.

Prior to the strike, I contacted their union rep, mentioned my offer and found out their schedule. She was very grateful and explained the union wanted a presence at the school when parents dropped off and then picked up their children which meant morning and afternoon picketing while in between those times, there would be marches and rallies in downtown Los Angeles or at the local district offices.

The first day of the strike arrived in pouring rain. Adding the rain to their morning beverages, I soon had a request for a field trip to my house. The first few trips were small groups of about five to six. We made a couple of trips each morning. Due to the rain, the teachers chose to take off their ponchos and shoes, leaving their wet picket signs outside. Bless them. They came in, two at a time, one would use the powder room in the entry way and the other would go upstairs to the guest bath. A couple of times, once a group was heading to my house, it grew so large that a line formed outside my house! I had to quickly head upstairs and tidy up the third bathroom. That must have been a sight for those in my complex. It must have looked like the lines outside a stadium restroom.

Every day, at the end of the picketing, the union rep made sure to thank everyone who came out and also acknowledged me. The group also shared their gratitude for the use of my restrooms.

When the strike was over, the teachers held a post-strike unity party and invited me to join them.

During the party, the union rep made yet another point of thanking me by handing me two gift bags and two greeting cards in envelopes. One bag contained a plastic container with a roll of bathroom paper to replace the ones they had used. Okay, a cute gag gift. The other bag held a nice bottle of red wine. 

Once home, I opened the envelopes to read the cards. They were inscribed with various expressions of gratitude. And there was a gift card inside.

A very generous gift card which I felt was overly generous for just allowing people the simple use of my bathrooms. And, yes, their generosity for this left me a bit uncomfortable.

I have since come to accept the fact that this was how much it meant to them, not what it meant to me and this was their expression of gratitude. What I felt was a simple, though mildly inconvenient, hospitable act, was perceived quite differently.

We never know the effect our actions will have on others.

It is, after all, a matter of perspective.