2023 05 - The Hierophant
When you’re writing, do you write the title first or the paragraphs? Do you write out an outline to start, the body paragraphs, or do you just jump right into the intro?
I’ve never seen myself as a writer, or someone that was particularly adept at words (although I can talk a lot), but the more I am making these love letters a regular thing, the more I think about structure, cadence, and well, words.
The hierophant is a word I’ve been thinking about a lot this past season. It’s a greek word. They are traditionally seen as priests, interpreting sacred mysteries to their community. They share and govern tradition, social constructs, knowledge, education, belief systems. Basically, they’re spiritual teachers. They tell you what they believe is right and wrong, you decide what to do with that information.
Taurus season showed us so many lessons of the hierophant. In my little terrace garden, for example, I’ve learned that not all life can flourish in one place—some need to be tossed or moved elsewhere to make a space for the rest to flourish. And in this space to flourish, I’m now being taught the tough lessons of what happens to plants when I don’t prepare them for the outside world properly. They’re getting sunburnt, tossed around by the wind, some even freezing (this NY spring is wild—did anyone see the hail?! and how just the day before, it was perfect sunbathing weather? Anyway…).
I spent so much time nursing them out of their seed, and so little on what they’d need once they broke through the dirt, that my baby herbs/fruits/veggies are tapping out early from the life they just entered and, for some of them, its just a little too late to start over from seed.
These are the lessons I can count on the hierophant. They can be a little tough, but they’re honest. Forget to water your seeds? Not sorry, they’re dead. Drink too much? You might throw up, you will have a hang over—sucks for you.
Not all the lessons are bad though. Nor are they meant to come off so harsh all the time. I can count on the good ones just as much as I can count on the ones that hurt my feelings. My body shows me how my skin glows when I eat less sugar or how calm my mind can be if i make it my job to sleep more, scroll less, be present. Wilty leaves stretch bigger when you give them the right nutrients and peas shoot up and curl their cute little furls around things when you give them something to reach toward.
“When you are ready, your teachers will show themselves to you.” This is something I’ve been told so many times by my friends and sisters since I began this journey. I’d always get so annoyed at how *sigh* that sounded, but now its starting to make some sense. This season the garden and my body are my teachers, my hierophants. Before, my teachers have been my friends, family, alcohol, home.
Where are you learning your lessons from these days? How do they feel when you learn them? Mine are still a bit harsh, but as I soften, so do they.
