Home is where my heart is

A theme emerges (before returning to the hibernation cave for some more dream magic).

Living in an old home has its challenges. It’s just not as immediately comfortable as a modern house. Not as warm, easy to use, or accommodating as the places that have been built with convenience and efficiency in mind.

In an old house, things are not regular - the shapes, the fittings, the surfaces, the floors - but they do have charm and character. Once you’ve been in them a while, you adapt and come to appreciate the individuality; the uniqueness. These homes have stories to tell, imprinted into their bones. The impressions left by other people can haunt the rooms or delight with their contributions.

Not everything works quite as well as it did many years ago and that can bring discomfort and irritation. The general vibe is not “now” or “on trend” or perhaps even desirable unless you’re into their kind of thing, but they do have an undeniable beauty — even a magic.

I am becoming An Old Home and I’m surprisingly okay with it.

This insight came to me as part of my ongoing understanding of my purpose. Woah. Purpose is such a lofty word, right? A claiming of place and value that those of us with historically poor self-esteem can find difficult to practice, and perhaps it’s not quite correct. Upon reflection, it’s not so much purpose, as theme. I understand my theme.

Have you ever heard of the north and south nodes in an astrological chart? There is a technical definition but as a personal guide - and this is only in some versions of astrology, not all - there’s a good outline at astrostyle…

South node:

The South Node reveals the gifts that you bring into this lifetime, your sweet spot, your comfort zone. You will be innately good in these areas of life, and may begin your early path based on your South Node leanings. While this can bring a sense of satisfaction, it is unlikely to elevate you to Blissville. There’s a sense of “been there, done that” in the field of South Node activities. And indeed you have: in many past lifetimes.

North node:

The north node is the exact opposite zodiac sign of the south node. It illuminates the terrain that’s calling your name, but climbing to the peak of this mountain is like trekking up Mt. Everest. You’ll have to lighten up your baggage and enlist a proverbial Sherpa to get you there. It’s your learning curve. North Node activities require you to stretch out of your comfort zone. Once you do, you’ll be amazed by how fulfilled you feel. It’s like the activation of your life’s mission. The sooner you align yourself with this path, the more purpose-driven your life becomes.

So, we come from the south node stuff and, to evolve, we head towards the north node.

My north node is in Cancer. Cancerian themes are the Mother, home, family, foundations, intuition, care, emotions, and healing. The archetypal feminine. 

I won’t bore you with the details of my natal chart, the car crash that my parents’ marriage became, or the strange dynamic of my relationship with my mother; suffice to say that I’ve steered away from making “all that” my raison d’être. I adore my little family and they are my greatest source of joy and comfort, I’ve just never seen “home, family, etc…” as relevant to my potential work in the world. I’d look at that stuff and think, “But I don’t want to be a housewife”. Yet here I am, with Cancer not just my North Node, but also my Ascendant or rising sign. 

Cancer is ruled by the moon and in my chart, the moon is in my twelfth house. My twelfth house is Gemini. My mother? A Gemini. Her formative influence, her father? A Gemini. My first sibling, whose appearance first challenged my place in my two year old world? A Gemini.

Moon in twelfth house…

This placement is often found in the charts of people whose mother was missing from their lives. She could be literally absent, but frequently she was physically there, but unavailable emotionally.

As a child, you often felt that you can’t count on your parents.

Your Moon in the twelfth house suggests that you had to learn to take care of yourself early in life. As a child, you didn’t feel that your caregiver responded to your emotional needs. This was such a painful experience that you decided not to share your emotions with anyone.

All this to say: all that “this is your purpose” stuff about the archetypal feminine, the mother, the carer, the maker of home and comfort, etc made me want to head for the hills. Fast.

I can’t guess what your experience of this kind of thing is - or even if you’ve been aware of/interested in these astrological ideas - but my observation is that even if you’re packing for a trip to those hills, you’re going to find yourself headed back to the flatlands sooner or later. So it was that I left my job, spent years as a homeschooling mother, and then a couple more caring for my father. While at the same time coming to know and understand the place where I live. The house; the land; the waterways; the wildlife and the plants. The Spirit of Here.

It’s been the best time of my life. Despite everything that happened, I truly know that this time - coinciding, as the latter part did, with my second Saturn return and properly arriving at post-menopause - was when I came home. In all the ways. Not to being a housewife, but to embracing my role as mother, carer, partner in family, homemaker, gardener, space-holder, intuitive, healer, whirlpool of emotion (ahem). A while back, I’d been bemoaning the fact that I didn’t know what “my thing” was. Everyone else in my family has a “thing” and I’d lost sight of mine. My partner said, “You’re the glue that holds it all together” and I was pretty pissed off about it. How come I don’t get to have a thing? How come I just get to enable everyone else? Now, with a different perspective, I see how that role absolutely fits my theme.

My theme is Home. Physical, emotional, spiritual. Body, heart, soul, family, abode, planet. Creating, experiencing, maintaining, witnessing, loving, sharing, nurturing, healing, being home.

Finally, I get it. So as I look from this solstice turning point to the path onward and upward, I feel grounded and strong. I have had to slow down this year. Observe and wait rather than just charge through life. I have been held by my home and family and come to really understand how that inspires my best self. How it shines a light on my own potential to do the same for others. It’s where I belong.

The other day I was doing my morning tarot reading (I have found my deck, “come home” to my deck maybe, and it helps me investigate and contemplate whatever’s front of mind for me) and the advice from the accompanying guidebook mentioned something about not competing, but rather contributing to the greater good. The idea has stuck with me. As I thought about how I’m ready to expand from my domestic home to a professional one, I felt that dread around having to compete for attention on the internet. Do you feel that? I don’t have a competitive bone in my body and the “pick me” of it all just makes me want to crawl under a duvet and hide. But contributing? That I can do ‘til the cows come home. That feels good.

So how and what do I contribute?

Well, I know what it feels like to reach a stage in life - it could be menopause or some other huge transition - that leaves you thrown up on the shore of a new land with no idea of where you are, who you are, and where you belong. Where home is. I know how to make a place, physical or energetic, that is home. A safe, warm, comfortable place filled with treasures that can help a person figure out exactly what in the strange new world is going on. I can contribute that.

What does it look like? It looks like a cabin full of magic. A fire, comfort food, blankets, and soft lights. Divination, plant medicines, energy work, conversation, words and spells, drums and journeys, the presence of otherworldly guides. Yep, I’m that old hedgewitch who lives on the imaginary beach!

Saying that “out loud” - even though I’ve come close before but wasn’t anywhere near ready - feels so vulnerable that I’m sitting here muffling screams. But it’s time now. Time for me to claim my theme. I can help you find home. Find where you belong. Learn how to know it. And have some bloody good fun while we spend time together playing with magic! My primary word for 2024 is Delight, and I intend to work by it.

As the year reaches its second still point and here, up North, we’re deep-dreaming of what we’ll grow in the returning sun, I’m sharing these seeds with you and making plans for the garden they’ll grow in. I’ve still got lots to learn and plenty of practical stuff to think about, so I’m quiet. Rather than feel guilty about it, I’ve paused the paid subscriptions (I believe annual subscribers have their year extended accordingly) and will take whatever time I need to make the next iteration of Deerwalker something special. That spaciousness feels rich and yes…delightful! There will be exclusive content for paid subs but a lot of my Substacking will just be here and available to anyone interested.

Thank you so much for your time, your support, and your kind, illuminating comments this year. I hope however you wind up 2023, you find some comfort and joy. The human world is a harsh, painful, heartbreaking place a lot of the time and I don’t ever forget that I’m greatly privileged to be thinking about anything beyond survival. To be writing about my own stuff while so many have had their homes - in all the forms that word embodies - wiped from the earth. I believe we must keep manifesting a better world. We must keep pulling in the right direction and we need to be strong and sure in our ability to do it.

May 2024 bring us all home.