Upstairs Office Window

Under the excuse of research for my fiction writing, I learn about a lot of things that interest me. Because of my writing I have learned palmistry, renewed my interest in pottery, and learned how to read runes. Runes are an ancient alphabet in which each letter has a meaning. Like a deck of tarot cards, a bag of runes is used to tap into the current pattern playing out in a querent’s life.

The rune Isa is a Rune of winter, of ice, of immobility. When Isa comes up in a reading, it means this is a time in which little can be done to change the situation. Winter ice must wait for warmer weather before it can thaw and run freely. Sometimes we struggle against situations or circumstances, using our energy to push against a wall of ice that will not move until spring. Isa gives us permission to relax and allow winter to work its magic. Under the ice and snow, gentle but powerful forces are at work on our behalf. We can choose to claw against the ice, or cultivate patience and have faith in the inevitable coming of spring.

I call this Going Underground. Sometimes I just feel like dropping off the wheel of social media, dropping out of life-as-usual, dropping off the face of the earth to recharge my batteries, redirect my path, and regenerate my motivation. Sometimes this means doing nothing for a couple of days. More often, it means going inward and taking time to listen to the subtle guidance of my higher self. For a day or two or three, I strive to maintain a level of inner focus that keeps me tuned-in to my muses, my spirit guides, and my own personal team of spiritual advisors.

On these days, I spend more time in nature, working in the yard and hanging out with my critters. I spend more time in my art studio, sculpting, painting, making stuff. At the same time, I’m making stuff up—or my muses are. So the next time I sit in front of a blank page pondering my current work-in-progress, the words flow more easily, and more important, they flow in the right direction. When I write the words that come to me on these underground days, I’m much less likely to delete them all in the next round of edits.

I used to feel guilty about these underground days, before I recognized that times of rest and regeneration allow me to be more productive when I am hard at work. Today, it is raining. The skies are dreary and gray, the winds blustery and filled with swirling leaves ripped from branches to spin toward the ground. It has been rainy for days. I don’t think I’ve seen the sun in over a week. Mother Nature is telling me to stay inside, go within, and spend some time reconnecting with my guides. Without a shred of guilt, I have spent the entire morning in bed (my upstairs office) with my iPad, connecting with nature through the open bedroom windows so I can smell the rain and hear the chorus of tree frogs that usually sing only at dusk. I may wear my pajamas all day, and I dare anyone to tell me I should do anything else.

This far south, even in the depth of winter, it’s almost-always too warm for ice and snow. But in any season, the Rune Isa might come to sing her siren song. She’s singing now…

Listen. Listen. Listen.

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