It will begin with a tall glass of fresh water.
The woman I was yesterday evening took deliberate care. In the whirl of the evening routine, she paused, and she thought of me.
She thought of the woman who will wake, who might awaken at 3am, in the intermission of a vivid play of dreams, and she reasoned that this future self, this future iteration of the woman she lives to be, may be thirsty in the middle of the night, may be grateful to find the water within reach.
She chose a tall glass and filled it to the brim with spring water. Like a loving mother wrapping a gift, or snuggling in a hand-written note found in the lunchbox for her child, she situated the tall glass of fresh water on a rose-quartz coaster rimmed with gold (the one from Anthropologie, the one I’ve longed for and finally was gifted by my own mother several Christmases ago) at the corner of the yellow writing desk framed with painted pink roses.
I sleep through the night, but when I awaken I see this tall glass of fresh water. Early sun rays slip through the shades and illuminate the water. The water glistens. Just the sight of the tall glass of fresh water hydrates my spirit, enlivening an ease that breathes me into my body.
This is the soil I root into.
This soil of self-care, self-support, self-mothering.
Let it be exquisite and let it be simple.
Let it be simply exquisite, and exquisitely simple.
When I muse on health, when I muse on living lushly as an exuberantly embodied and vibrantly alive woman, I am re-remembering that it’s the gentle gestures, the sparkling fun ones born from enthusiasm and feelings of ease and beauty that invite my soul to nest even more, to inhabit and exude even more from this temple of a body.
So, I swoon over this act of generosity, this gift from my previous self to the woman who will be different, will be renewed from sleep and dreams, and will step forward to find a caring, a consideration that can be cultivated into a life that is lived, reverently.
And today, with a lunar eclipse, with America casting votes under a full moon in Taurus in this season of Scorpio, I ground into the exquisite and the simple. I hydrate my roots. I nourish myself before I open the door to the wider collective consciousness.
This is my practice of self-sovereignty. This is the prayer I do say when I do awaken at 3am, when I do reach and take thankful sips of the water. Let me feel what is mine to feel. Let me know what is mine. Let me remain in my own energetic integrity, for a sensitive nervous system, a woman reclaiming her intelligence in her intuitive knowing, can absorb what is not hers, what is not hers to carry.
Let the tall glass of water cleanse and clarify. Let the tall glass of water reinstate me into energetic and embodied sovereignty. This is how I can reign. This is how I can proceed. This is how I can be in the reverent pause and let that stillness be a medicine that flows into my body, into my energy, and that is what I can present. Let the rest be.
We are in deep waters.
This Scorpio season beckons for us to dive deep, to be unafraid of our oceanic knowing, of our shadows that can be seen in the light of our consciousness. Emotions can be waves that can bring us to a shore of wisdom, insight, intuitive knowing. So, I surrender and float on the waves, lifting up to see the full moon in Taurus.
We are in deep waters and the tender Taurus moon holds us in all-encompassing light. Self-care, she counsels; and reminds us that self-care cultivates a replenished earthly connection.
My inner mother must have known this. Must have received guidance from the Taurus lunation. Place out the water glass. Just in case.
It will all begin with a simple and an exquisite act of self-care.
A tall glass of fresh water to keep clear in the knowing that each soul-traveler on this planet is worthy of harmonious wellbeing; deserving of a simple act of lovingness that steadies an innate, embodied wisdom and lunar-bright knowing.