Weird Threads

Thoughts on Destiny, and a Blessing

I had the good fortune Saturday to take part in the opening day of Julia’s year-long course, Midwifing Metamorphosis, here at Heartward Sanctuary. It was a pleasure to witness Jule synthesizing her decades of experience in group ritual, dance and animist practice into something deeply grounded in age-old wisdom ways, yet wholly new and distinctly her own. It was a day full of gentle beauty—but potent, too.

The course traces the life cycle over the course of a growing season, so this first session was focused on birth. Among other symbolically-charged acts we planted a circle of flax in the ashes of last year’s Samhain pyre. While we broadcast the seeds and trod them into the earth, course participant, EO Mendelsohn led a song based on a Cherokee proverb:

When you born you cried, and the world rejoiced

Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.

The flax crop will eventually be made into linen and woven into a burial shroud. The specter of death is cued up and waiting in the wings from the moment of birth; we acknowledged that on Saturday, but the day’s ritual focus remained on the mysteries of birth and incarnation.

It was in this context that I was invited to say a few words about the stars and destiny, a topic that’s near to my heart. Below is (slightly expanded) version of what I read to the group.

For those wondering, we’ll be getting back to The Lavender Files in just a few days.

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Unless it was created by a nuclear blast in the last 100 years or by radioactive decay, every atom in our bodies and on our planet was forged inside of a star.

Think about that for a second. It is literally true that we’re made of stardust.

Countless cultures look to the stars for guidance, inspiration, and above all for remembrance: where did we come from? Why are we here?

There’s a mysterious and profound way in which the stars hold our stories, from the individual to the collective. It seems that our souls incarnate at precisely the moment that fits our particular bundle of karma. The lessons we have to learn, the gifts we have to give, the experiences we are due to undergo—all the karmic fruits, bitter or sweet, that are set to ripen during this lifetime—all of that is encoded by the patterning of the heavens when we entered the world. (This doesn’t mean there’s no such thing as will. I wouldn’t so far as to say it’s free, but we do have some leeway, some choices we get to make, otherwise what would be the point of the whole extravagant circus?)

Attending to these celestial patterns can help us to know ourselves, to understand the cycles and chapters of our lives and to glimpse our potential. The forms of astrology passed down in unbroken lineage from humanity’s wise ancestors allow us to align with reality. That’s a good thing, since (as Robert Svoboda likes to say), “if you don’t live with reality, sooner or later reality will come live with you.” Of course, the work doesn’t stop with some hints and nudges from the stars; it only starts there.

What I’ve said so far comes from a Vedic point of view, but I’d like to share from a couple of other cultural perspectives (or what I understand of them). Ultimately all of these perspectives shed light on the universal human predicament, and I think they dovetail well.

For the Yoruba of Southwest Nigeria and Benin, heaven is our home, while earth the marketplace: where we come to exchange gifts or (to put it somewhat bluntly, as the Yoruba I’ve met do not hesitate to do) to pay and get paid. We have each chosen a destiny before birth (or perhaps been chosen by one), but in coming here we have forgotten what it is.

Rather than astrology, the Yoruba have devised ingenious systems of divination to help people remember their destiny and align with it. This is not just a matter of knowledge but of coming into harmonious relationship with various powers through a lifetime of making ritual offerings, following ethical codes and abiding by behavioral taboos.

Finally, a piece from old European tradition that goes back to the ancient Greeks, and probably beyond. In this tradition, our lives are determined by the Three Fates who spin, measure out and cut the threads of our lives. These witch-like figures later became known as the Weird Sisters.

Three Fates by Emily Balivet

‘Weird’ was originally spelled with a ‘y:’ wyrd. This term signified fate or destiny, something woven deeply within us and that wants—perhaps demands—to come through us. Now these are not necessarily comfortable themes, as these weird threads may very well pull us deeper into life than we would otherwise choose to go (which is one definition of initiation, according to Michael Meade). But weirdness is vital. What makes us a little weird—a little (or a lot) different from the mean—is also what equips us to pursue our unique destiny, which is precisely what the world needs from us. That’s part of the bargain, part of the bundle of gifts we have to give here in the marketplace, to fold back in the Yoruba way of thinking.

As Jesus said, “If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.” -Gospel of Thomas

There’s good reason to embrace your weirdness, to follow its thread. If my experience is any indication, you certainly won’t be bored if you do.

As we all touch back in with our births and ask ourselves what mission or question or passion brought us to life, may we be blessed by the stars that shine on us (even when we can’t make them out).

May we be blessed by the powers with whom are stories are interwoven (even if we don’t know them to name).

And may we be blessed by our own precious weirdness (even if it scares the hell out of us).

Journey well.

For those interested in Jyotish (Vedic astrology) readings or other types of divination, I’m opening up my schedule again starting in April. Email jedwardian@gmail.com.