Dear Kumquats,
Do you miss me when I’m gone? Well, I miss you.
I’ve been through quite an ordeal these past two weeks. I feel rather thread bare, or like a wrung out sponge. Very exhausted. Both the pandemic and my move in 2020 to a remote mountain town, have been a whole adventure in letting go of what I thought was important before— conveniences, comforts, distractions, projects, crutches, people, plans, ideas about what to do next. I talk often about how the electric magic that I am used to was so hard to access during these dark years of separation, of how I rebelled with every fiber in my being. A dull un-magical world is not a place that I can exist in my fullest, nor any of us. I’ve done everything in my power to create a place where I can always find the magic again. A place to return to, to rekindle my creative fire, in order to come out blazing with brilliance again and again and again.
This whole Snowmageddon (3 blizzards in 10 days) was a doozie because the artist studio and lodge that I’ve been building now for 3 years was 50% flooded when the monsoon rain rolled in on the heels of those blizzards. Last Thursday I got a ride to town to get groceries and internet time. When I returned in the late evening, I opened my door and saw the entire floor filled with water— over the rugs, under the trapeze, my desk, the kitchen. It was like an instant punch in the gut, my 3rd chakra seized up into a knot that took 24 hours to undo.
The 3rd chakra is the seat of our personal power and intuition. I realized that The Nest is where so much of my power is being stored. This is the biggest creative baby of my life and I was terrified that she was drowning. Dealing with the loss of electricity and internet for nearly two weeks is one thing, fucking with The Nest, is quite another. I lost my shit.
Welcome to Saturn in Pisces— Water World.
Saturn changed signs right at the beginning of all this, so he will be compressing us down into diamonds with a whole new flavor the next few years. Non-believers of astrology will shrug it off, but when you enter in a co-creative relationship with the entire Universe, you develop your sensitivity to shifting energy. It behooves you to understand the “weather” patterns and how they interact with one another so that you can put on your rain coat when it’s going to rain.
Non-believers think that astrology or tarot can become a self-fulling prophecy, or that it’s like grasping for meaning that isn’t there, but I believe there are powerful invisible forces acting upon us all the time. This stuff is happening whether you’re paying attention or not, so you might as well look for the lessons and lean into them. Even if it is all bullshit, I find more richness in my life when I set aside linear time and choose to believe that I live within cycles upon cycles of time, that our human story in ancient and completely interwoven with nature, mythology and the stars.
Believing that the Cosmos effects every aspect of my life grounds me, it brings Father Sky back to the conversation with Mother Earth. Repairing the wisdom of the sacred masculine is the only way to have the revered and robust sacred feminine that all the self-proclaimed “goddesses” out there are always going on about. We do this work first within our own selves. When the work is seen to hold firm and we gain fluency with it, we are able to assist others.
I knew that Saturn (the planet of boundaries, restrictions, discipline and hard lessons) was moving out of his very comfortable position in Aquarius and into the depths of emotional Pisces. Saturn doesn’t do feelings. Saturn was in his happy Aquarius position since 2020, which I’m more than happy to leave behind. Even knowing about astrological weather in advance, we can really only identify the what and the where, but the how we never know until it happens.
While I did not enjoy what happened for one second, there is no doubt that my outrage, grief and desperation took me on an emotional rollercoaster that wrung out some other, older fears, and tested my resolve and dedication. These situations that bring us to our knees ARE there to make us grow. I know that. So, I took the medicine. I processed the rage and desperation and sit here soberly, completely changed by the experience.
I’m not rushing to sum up the lessons yet. This could be a warning sign that I need to move or it could just be a sign that the gutters they put on the building last year are in a bad place. Maybe it was just a psy-op set up by my Spirit Posse to get me to quickly release some stale old fears and baggage because they were blocking me from receiving more of the good stuff. Time will tell.
We got electricity back late Saturday night and are still waiting for internet. The unintentional break from technology gave me a lot of perspective on what it’s good for. During this ordeal, my machines (laptop and phone) were used to write a little, play music, organize my photos and make flyers for my next event. That’s it. And I could only use them on the generator schedule. When there was nothing left to do on them, I picked up a book or paintbrush.
Yesterday, while looking in my library for something to read, The Mists of Avalon jumped out. I read it in college, but it’s such a classic, and now felt like a good time to revisit. Perhaps I’m being affected by all the fog and mist that rolled in when the warmer rain started pouring on the remaining banks of snow. But who can ever resist the timeless comfort of the stories that were so essential to our childhood imagination?
Remember that movie from the 80s, Excalibur, with Helen Mirren as Morgaine? We had that movie on BETA video when I was about 7 or 8 and I watched it like the romantic, obsessive and impressionable young Scorpio I was, even though I was a bit too young to be watching such a sexy and violent movie. Us children of the 70s and 80s we were all raised like feral cats back then, totally unsupervised most of the time. Thankfully. I would never make it as a kid in today’s helicopter-parented world.
Maybe The Mists of Avalon jumped out because it’s a good story for this time: about a king wedded to the land, who is able to unite the old ways with the new, with legendary heart, grace and integrity. It sure is nice to believe in a hero right now. Whatever the reason, that book leapt into my hands. I hungrily gobbled up 100 pages yesterday and felt so satisfied. I’d happily ditch any productivity today to return to it, but my dedication to you and to my writing is prodding me along. I’ve got to make a trip to town to send this to you. I guess going to town for internet is the same as going to the post office. The mail must get through.
So, I will conclude with a big announcement.
I had this inspiration arrive early into the blizzard and I try to efficiently follow up on my guidance with action, but I’ve been delayed for obvious reasons. Forgive the delay, Angels, but here it is:
I’m changing the name of this blog and merging it with another project of mine, my documentary series— Artist in the Wild. The subject matter of my writing here will not change, it’ll be all the same stuff, but I want to put the “Artist” part out in front so that I can find more audience. Additionally, I want to share more of my rustic-lifestyle horrors and hacks with you, dear readers. This Substack will continue exploring “The Mystery with Trixie” and be the place that I weave together art, culture, nature, off-grid living, and spirituality with creativity, humor and a little healthy sexuality.
The previous blog name, Tiger Style Love School, was named after my coaching program in honor of the Year of the Tiger, which is my own Chinese zodiac sign and the sign we were in last year (Feb 2022-Feb 2023).
The “Love School” part reflected my belief that LIFE is the Love School, and everything we experience is a way to open our hearts to more Love.
Sappy as it sounds, that is the entire distillation of everything I’ve ever learned or endured with my art, yoga, psychedelics, all spiritual seeking, my time in nature, and is also the wisdom of my heroes. All of that lead me to draw one conclusion: LOVE IS EVERYTHING.
I know this with my whole being. Knowing + Experiencing = Wisdom. The Universe is powered by Love and even though evil exists in the world, all of that is a way for us to experience more Love. I believe that we are all loved unconditionally by the Source of it All. I have road tested my beliefs to the extreme. The map I made is my own, but it can certainly help keep you from driving off cliffs unnecessarily and avoiding quicksand.
As an artist, I live this way so you don’t have to (LOL). I wasn’t given all this wisdom for nothing, we are meant to share our gifts. That’s why this Substack exists.
My mentorship services and coaching program remain on offer, even without the blog named after this part of my work. I truly hated all of the online marketing methods of advertising or finding clients that the social media coaching racket makes you think you have to play into. I’m just not going that route. I have been counselor, coach, mentor and artistic manager for clients and am honored every time someone seeks out my assistance.
I compiled my most trusted medicine into a bite-sized 4-week program, mainly to help other artists and creatives experiencing major life upheavals or identity crises, because I don’t want to see people suffer longer than is needed. Selfishly, I also want more whole, healthy, healed people in the world and I know how to make them. This shit works. It’s here when you need it.
Those seeking my services for personal life navigation or professional artistic mentorship will have to find me the old fashioned way: through word of mouth. I’m relying on you to spread the word when I come to mind and someone is struggling. There is information on my website.
You could say I’m just going underground with it, yet again.
If you know, you know.
So, that’s what’s happening with Tiger Style Love School.
Welcome to the new container for my writing.
This is Artist in the Wild.
(Insert long howl here.)