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Retrogrades and Offerings: Crunchy Knee Queen

Sometimes you just have A Week.

I’ve never paid a lot of attention to Mercury in Retrograde. I used to think I was invincible to its effects; Mercury is placed strongly in my chart and I felt that technology was my friend. I’ve been lucky, until I wasn’t.

Last week, Mercury stationed and went in reverse, like it does several times a year. At the same time, a few annoying things happened. First of all, one of the servers at work blew up which meant that a large public high school was without its network for several days. Internet, internal communications and lesson plans went out the window. Fun! Worse for me, this very website was hacked, and reset back to a basic install. Posts, pages, formatting, everything gone. Oof.

Thanks to back ups and a Sunday spent tinkering, most of the site is back now. Just in time for the New Moon.

Never again will I scoff at the panic that Mercury in Retrograde can cause – if it hits you in a certain kind of way, if other planets are mucking about too, it can wreak havoc. I am still not convinced the universal new age hand wringing is justified – but I have some newfound respect!

This incident reminded me of another invincibility that I thought I had; that I possessed some sort of force against injury, the innocent and naive point of view that I could cling onto having intact bones and joints until I was old, that my privileged youth would last a long time, that my skill, good genes and a physically cautious nature could protect me. Until the Fate attached to playing full contact sport on roller skates rose up to finally meet me, and collided with the anterior cruciate ligament in my left knee which consequently exploded. Even more inconvenient is it had happened after I took a break from the sport for my mental health, and I’d made such a big deal of coming back. An unretirement marred by possibly one of the worst injuries you can get as an athlete, even if it was a recreational one. The sport meant the world to me.

What followed was an initiation of sorts; I am forever changed. The Eris of 2020 is a bit more creaky than previous versions. It’s the beginning of middle age, the next phase of life. Who am I now? I am no longer the maiden, not a mother, and not yet the crone. A Queen, perhaps, according to Wendy Rule when she offered an alternative to the neo pagan triple goddess in a workshop I attended years ago – Maiden, Mother, Queen, Crone. A Creatrix perhaps, an enticing archetype according to Lasara FireFox Allen in Jailbreaking the Goddess, whose offering took the form of new beings; Femella, Potens, Creatrix, Sapientia, Antiqua. A creative, crunchy knee Queen Creatrix.

Having your blog get hacked and disappear when you publicly vowed to post to it more was a bit of an odd thing. Certainly not a disaster to the same scale that busting a ligament that holds your leg pieces together. But it was something to ponder.

So, the bits and pieces of my website (and my knee) are back again, but any URLs out there heading to specific posts and pages on this website aren’t going to work. Sorry about that.

Yesterday, I spun a bit of dark moon magic and chucked a rock in a lake. Leftovers of a waning moon ritual from the previous week. I had breathed my scruples, doubts and insecurities into the innocuous piece of limestone I found in a carpark, kept it wrapped in a sarong for a few days, and released it. All my worries about making adjustments to feel justified in carving space for myself, sunk to the bottom of a suburban wetland waterhole filled with duck shit and darkness. Claimed by the void.

Then, I headed to the roller skate rink. I was by myself and I’d never gone to a social skate all alone before. I was determined. The day before my surgeon cleared me for casual skating. I had been hoping for this day for seven months.

I wheeled in my roller derby case, strapped on my protective padding, with my scuffed, well loved skates going on last. I stepped confidently onto the rink, dodging kiddies attending birthday parties who were teeter-tottering in fluoro hired rollerblades to the sounds of Sia and Destiny’s Child under a mirrorball. I was definitely the odd one out on the floor, but my stride was smooth, my muscles held strong, and my knee – although uncertain and no where near at the capacity prior to surgery, felt good.

This Deipnon, my offering is the restoration of this website, and my will to be undeterred by the trauma I’ve been through, the rehab and recovery that is still ongoing. The breeze in my hair, the familiar sweat down my back, all of it felt amazing. Whether I have passed a test, or utterly failed to miss the point of it, I don’t care.

Until the next trial.

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