Self-Love Prompt #1: Connecting to the Earth

I was browsing Barnes & Noble when I happened upon these little cards. It’s a box of 70 writing prompts meant to inspire self-love and reflection. I need some fresh material for my blog other than giving life updates, and this seemed like the perfect way to spark some creativity. Sitting at a hookah bar with my wife, I drew my first card:

And I blanked immediately. How do I feel connected to the earth? That’s such a lofty concept, I’m not sure I know how to answer that. The first thing that came to mind was my dabblings in magic and witchcraft. I hesitate to call myself a Christian witch (which is not an oxymoron surprisingly), as I don’t practice nearly enough. But my personal religious beliefs align somewhere between Christianity, witchery, and science. And a connection with our life-giving planet is a crucial part of all of those philosophies.

When I lived by the lake, I liked to take walks and collect various things I found along the way. Little pinecones and flowers and such. I’d put them on my altar alongside my favorite crystals and religious symbols like pictures and statues of saints I admire. I took a lot of pride in arranging my findings to be aesthetically pleasing. It was soothing, and I felt like I was bringing a little bit of Mother Nature home with me.

Another practice I enjoy when it’s a little warmer out is grounding by standing or laying on the grass or dirt with no shoes. Someone once told me it’s a great way to feel connected to the earth, and I agree! Is there anything scientific to it? I doubt it, but it feels good. I like standing in water even more though, feeling the waves hit my feet and my toes buried in the sand. I think it’s the Pisces in me, or maybe the Michigander in me. I just really like lakes, okay?

On a grander scale, just existing alongside other living beings makes me feel like part of something greater than myself. We’re all part of this beautiful cosmic experiment called humanity, and it’s pretty awesome when you think about it. We’re eight billion interconnected stories, all unfolding at once. Someday, God willing, I’ll have kids of my own, and perhaps they’ll have their own kids eventually, and the great cycle of life will continue. It’s the same cycle that’s been happening since the dawn of time. I’m someone’s great-great-granddaughter, and maybe one day, I’ll be someone’s great-great-grandmother. It’s all very overwhelming and exciting to think about.

I think being connected to the earth is much more than just being connected to a clod of dirt floating in space. It’s being connected to each other, to flesh and blood, and it’s being connected spiritually. You can’t love the planet without loving one another. We’re all a part of this together. And that’s pretty dope actually.

Why Anchors?

It’s a question I get asked a lot, especially during sandal season, when my little anchor tattoo is clearly visible on my left foot. It’s the symbol I chose to represent my blog, my business, and my spirituality as a whole. But where did my obsession with anchors originate, and why are they so special — dare I say, sacred — to me?

It helps to know a little about the traditional symbolism. In sailor culture, tattoos were popular long before they made their way onto the lower backs of even the most demure housewife. To these seafarers, the anchor represented stability. A sailor often got an anchor tattoo for a special lady, typically a lover or his mother, to remind him of the love and security he has waiting for him back home.

Additionally, the anchor is associated with bodies of water, to which I’ve always felt a connection to. I’ve lived near the same river for a majority of my life, and being a Pisces, the element holds a spiritual importance to me. The shape of the anchor resembles a cross, which is significant to me as well, as my Christian-rooted beliefs play no small part in my personal spiritual practices.

But believe it or not, it goes even deeper than that.

I remember briefly dating a fellow musician my freshman year of college. He was someone I admired greatly, and still do, for his musicianship as well as his humility. He would tell me about how he made music for other people, simply because he loved the way it made them happy. Music was more than just his hobby or his job. It was the way he connected with others, and he viewed it as something of a sacred duty to use his talents to spread joy. His band used a lot of anchors in their symbolism as well, representing humility and groundedness. He never wanted to lose sight of why he did what he did. He never wanted music to become a selfish act.

That philosophy really resonated with me, especially as a music therapist-in-training, and despite the relationship ending, I held fast to the wisdom he had shared. Music — and all my creative endeavours for that matter — now held a deeper meaning to me, and I adopted the anchor as a symbol of staying humble and remembering why I do what I do. Getting that tattoo, my first tattoo for that matter, was my way of making sure I always had that reminder to put others first in all things. Music and life in general shouldn’t be about getting famous or hitting it big. It should be about leaving the world a brighter place than how you found it.

No matter how far I sail in this life, I won’t forget or forsake the people and places I hold dear. May everything I do reflect a heart of humility and love.

Under a Leo Moon (A Ritual for Creative Success)

A few nights ago was the new moon, which apparently is a great time to like, do intention setting rituals and whatnot. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again — I’m pretty skeptical when it comes to this stuff, but choosing a goal or vision to work on for a month does tickle the science part of my brain. Besides, I have ADHD. This is the kind of structure I need in my life.

“Jess getting her shit together for once” will take all the magic in the universe.

The new moon is in Leo, which is a thing I don’t know a lot about, but I guess it’s a good time to do creative things. There’s supposed to be a lot of big, bombastic energy surrounding this moon, which is perfect for the average glam rock frontwoman trying to manifest her band’s success. Additionally, I found out when I was researching my birth chart that my moon sign is Leo. Coincidence? Realistically, yes. But I’d like to believe there’s something special there. I’m a frickin’ lion baby, and you’re gonna hear me roar.

My lovely wife, Crass, has been mostly supportive of my magical endeavors (albeit she’s a bit annoyed with how many essential oils and herbs I’ve accumulated in the past few weeks). Although she’s Jewish by birth and generally agnostic, she’s always felt drawn to the witchy side of life. So for this new moon, she decided to join me for an intention setting ritual.

Here’s what all was involved:

– “road opener” candle I got from this dope metaphysical store downtown (supposedly opens new opportunities)

– bay leaves

– citrine crystal necklace

– cedar smudge stick

– a black Sharpie

We started by assembling a makeshift altar on the balcony and smudging the air around it. It was a beautiful summer night, and considering it was dark out, we decided to go out naked as the day we were born. I didn’t bother to look up whether nudity affected the magic at all. Once we were settled in, we light the candle and said a few words. Our incantation was as follows:

Holy powers that be
Ignite a spark in me
Bring success to my art
And creativity to my heart

After reciting the incantation, we scribbled the names of our artistic projects — my band’s name and her art business’s name — on a pair of bay leaves using the marker. We then placed the leaves into the flame, envisioning our prayers being sent up to the heavens along with the smoke. Around that time, I took her hand, and we started daydreaming aloud about what our hopes and visions were for our respective endeavors. It felt nice, dreaming about the future with her. Somehow, it made the evening even more magical. At the end, we brought the candle inside and let it burn on the kitchen table, but not before holding the necklace we had in the smoke. The plan was for her to wear the necklace to art shows and me to wear it to my band’s gigs, as a reminder of our intentions.

It feels silly at times, but I really do get a sense of peace from performing rituals like this, like I have a sense of control over my destiny. Suddenly, my dreams of making it in music don’t seem so lofty. It gives me perspective. Perhaps this magic stuff is baloney, but I think there’s some substance to it after all. It’s retraining your brain to see your full potential and focus on achieving what you need to achieve. Maybe it just takes burning a couple of leaves to finally tame my ADHD. So mote it be.