Honored as the longest day of the year, Midsummer, or Summer Solstice, marks a time when the sun is at its height of power. Summer Solstice, called Litha in pagan and Wiccan circles, honors this longest day of the year. The word “solstice” is from the Latin word solstitium, which literally translates to “sun stands still.” Most of the festivals from around the world, despite religion and culture, honor the Sun’s strength and gifts, particularly agrarian cultures where this time when the crops were sown, tended for a good harvest. Nearly every agricultural society has marked the high point of summer in some way, shape or form. Listen for more…
June's Tarot + Earth Medicine Allies
Tarot + Earth Medicine Allies for June are Three of Wands, Raccoon, Yarrow, Hematite, Zincite and Lapis Lazuli.
It’s Angelica Yingst with you June 2022 Tarot + Earth Medicine reading. Maybe I am early this month with our reading because I am ready to get out of the shitshow that was May—shitshow might be too strong, but the eclipses of May brought to light some darkness, revealing true motives, bringing up old wounds. I have some good news about June…it is not May!
We move into June in Gemini, which is not only my rising sign, but the sign that embraces curiosity, extroversion, and change. And I for one am here for it. Gemini craves communication, stimulation, and adventure, while we are still in Mercury Retrograde, you might find some of this difficult, but you might also find yourself wanting to express yourself through writing to better communicate a highly important message. Gemini is social, while the new moon is not. You can scratch both itches by sending a lovely text, email, DM, to someone you like and don’t want to tell off—start from grace and kindness….
Listen to the episode for more…
all about me, again.
Today’s episode is a little bit different. I am answering some person questions asked by my listeners and followers. Most of them are about my life as a healer and teacher. Listen, I love answering questions about my research and work and where I get to go down rabbit holes, but the personal ones can be different and difficult. Not difficult, but just putting yourself out there can feel vulnerable.
So, here I am answering some questions, and I would love to have a regular monthly episode answering questions from you. If you want to ask me some research questions or questions about healing just know that 1. Or a love doing research, 2 or b. am dedicated to teaching and furthering people’s spiritual journey 3. Or c. I strive to be mindful that not everyone knows all these words and phrases and concepts that me and my other spiritual woo woo people take for granted. If you have an question, you can send it to me at angie@themoonandstone or goto my anchor.fm Centered portal and you can record a question for a future episode. Thanks and I hope you enjoy this episode of Centered.
Meditation from my Altar
This week, I am working with self-care and self-love. I mean, let’s be honest, I am always working on self-care and self-love. But this week, I began writing a guide for our students at HMCA on Self-Care, and I went back through my writing on self-care, which inevitably took me to writing on self-love.
I don’t know who needs to hear this today, but it wasn’t that long ago that I realized what self-love meant. I mean, I'd give lip service to it in my 20s and 30s, but it wasn’t until my 40s was when I really started to understand what self-love looks like, feels like, sounds like and acts like.
What I learned is that it has to be self-generated. That seems like a no-brainer, but it hadn’t always been that way or me. I felt love for myself only if someone told me they loved me. I lived compliment to compliment, going back to my default self-loathing setting if I sensed rejection.
But true self-love doesn't care if you are rejected or criticized, self-love knows who you are. It doesn’t care if you drank 8 glasses of water, or ate a gallon of ice cream. Self-love doesn’t judge. Self-love doesn’t care if you grow hair where society says you shouldn’t or don’t grow hair where you should. Self-love isn’t about a number on a scale or on a calendar.
Self-love is an action phrase. It is healthy boundaries. It's not accepting unacceptable behavior. It is early bedtimes. It's walking away when you aren't loved in the way you love yourself. Self-love is learning to mother yourself and care for yourself even when no one is around. Self-love illuminates all darkness and skeletons and shadow shit, because self-love cannot exist with denial, lies or secrets. Self-love means you love you unconditionally, meaning without conditions.
When we decide to embark on the journey of self-love and radical self-acceptance, it means we become overly, abundantly, and radically accepting of every parts of ourselves. I no longer just love me if I do some external measure of “goodness” perfectly today. I love the imperfect me. Because, honestly, I am 100% perfect at being Angie.
It's the hardest relationship i have ever been in--toxic and abusive at times. But I'm totally committed now. I'm in for the long haul.
Beltane Reading, History + Layout
As the Wheel turns and the grass turns greener, flowers blossom, their pollen heaving, enticing, the pollinators, come and spread seed. Greater Sabbats on the pagan Wheel of the Year are the cross-quarter holidays—what they call the Earth Festivals (as compared to the Solar Festivals that mark the equinoxes and the solstices.) Beltane marks the beginning of the transition from Spring to Summer. It occurs on May 1st. Blossoming flowers, the trees and grass really take off, the bees beginning to buzz…it is a time of lightness and fun, fertility and growth.
Beltane uniquely focuses on sexuality and sensuality with a bevy of yonic and phallic symbols. The Horned God, birthed at Yule, begins to hit his lusty stage, ready to mate with the maiden Earth goddess. Both are honored at this time—Cernunnos (as well as Green Man, Pan, the Oak King) and the Maiden Goddess. Beltane honors our own unions. The Roman festival of Floralia seems to have influenced the way Beltane was celebrated. Beltaine, the Celtic Christian festival meaning “Bright Fire”, honored the release of the cattle into the fields. Standing directly across Samhain on the great Wheel of the Year, Beltane calls in light and lightness in the same way Samhain honors the dark of life. There is a focus during Beltane on life in all its sensuous and corporeal glory.
The celebrations of Beltane are joyous, raucous events with massive bonfires, dancing, singing and more. Beltane fires are said to have healing properties that were used to grant healing prayers and protection. The smoke from the bonfires were used for purification and for vitality. The ashes then were placed in the fields for fertility. Celebrations at Beltane, sometimes called May Day, involved the Maypole—a tall wood pole, a phallic symbol, placed in the center of the festivities. A flower wreath placed on top of the pole served as a yonic symbol of the feminine. Brightly colored ribbon hang from the top of the pole to the ground. Maidens and boys were placed around the pole, grabbing every other cloth or ribbon (men facing one way while the women faces another, so they could look at each other.) They danced, weaving in and out of each other, symbolizing the sexual union of masculine and feminine.
When we look at the world through the agrarian calendar, or the Wheel of the Year, we often find some antiquated ways—particularly around the masculine and feminine. Around Beltane, the idea of the masculine and feminine coming together really meant bringing fertility to the fields for a good harvest. A good harvest meant the difference between life and death. It also meant expanding the family and bringing children into the world. Childbirth brings both the feminine and masculine together forming new life, and in this way, Beltane honors the way sexuality brings together the light-dark, masculine-feminine for new life. We can certainly expand our idea of sexuality now, but the symbolism of Beltane remains in the phallic and the yonic.
During Beltane festivals, couples stayed out in the fields all night, engaging in sexual union, particularly in the fields, to encourage fertility in the crops and soil or in the woods, where they would bring back greenery and flowers to decorate for the celebrations. Babies conceived during these couplings at Beltane were called merry-begots and thought to be blessed by the gods. These couplings were not the only celebrations of unions—marriages and hand fastings often were celebrated during this time.
Magick is thought to be easy to access around Beltane. All manner of people engaged in divination and magickal behavior from the grandmother to the cook who threw his soup bones in the fire to read in the morning. In fact, the two Greater Sabbats of the year, Samhain and Beltane, lying across from each other on the Wheel of the Year, honor the thinness of the veil between the worlds by encouraging us to dive into our Tarot and oracle decks, our runes, and scry into bowls of water, another yonic symbol.
I have been reading Tarot for many moon cycles. As a pagan and an earth medicine practitioner, I have created tarot spreads for each of the points on the Wheel of the Year to help us easily tap into the energetic and magickal work important around these different points on the Wheel of the Year and in our life. Beltane’s sexy energy encourages us to connect with the light, lusty, fertile energy of Beltane and May.
I wanted to share my Tarot Layout from my book the Complete Tarot Layouts. Because the energy of sex and creativity is so intimately tied together, you can use this layout for either. If you are more interested in a creative project, you can also think of that birthing out of the same energy of Beltane. Remember you can do this reading at any time you want to check in with a relationship or project of any kind, not just Beltane. Remember you can use this and any tarot layout with runes, oracles decks or any Tarot deck.
Tarot + Earth Medicine Allies for May 2022
Blessed May, friends,!
I do love me a lusty month of May, as we kick things off by turning it all up a notch with a New Moon and Solar Eclipse in Taurus as well as the celebration of Beltane. We have a Mercury Retrograde around the 10th of May until the 3rd of June, then a Lunar Eclipse at the Scorpio Full Moon (you may just want to find a cabin in the woods and go off-grid for a while during that one.) Then we move into Gemini season and all its airy glory. Let’s just say: ALL THE THINGS ARE HAPPENING
Keep your eyes peeled for my Beltane Reading and if you are interested in some Beltane Healing at the sacred to call in joy and creativity, check out my Distance Beltane Collective Grid Healing on April 30th at 7pm ET. If you can’t make it live, you can always watch the replay for healing work on the 1st.
nice to meet you
It has been a while since I launched the Moon + Stone Healing—almost a decade of healing work through Tarot, Reiki, crystals, shamanic work + sharing my medicine, writing + research under my belt. I realize in all that time I have not spent too much time introducing myself. My first newsletter launched into a full historical discussion of the Corn Moon without a second thought about letting you know who I am.
I hoped “who I am” would slide into the background, anonymous in that way that we can be when we are of service to others. It was a thought borne of humility and shyness. Unsurprisingly, who I am infiltrates everything I do, every client I help, every class I teach. It never slips into the background. I often share my wisdom through my own stories and experiences—it is how Spirit often speaks through me. When I think of how often I tell a personal story to illustrate the medicine for my clients and students, I blush wildly.
“Gaw, Angie, talk less. Listen more. You are so embarrassing,” sighs my inner teenager complete with eye roll and exasperation.
But when I think about talking less, I wonder how much of it is truly humility or has it been, as I am loathe to admit, a fear of intimacy, a subconscious pushing back from vulnerability. If someone said, write about you. I would say, “Meh, all these people know me already—all I do is write about me.” Recovery has taught me many valuable lessons, but possibly most important is that my story, my mistakes, my “failures”, my experience, is my medicine. It is what I have to pass on. It is why the broken amongst us are often the best at holding space and being healers.
Thinking about “my story” reminded me of working with my mentor Pixie Lighthorse. She asked us to think about what we are exceedingly good at. She said, figure out how to tell your clients who you are.
And so, I thought about all these things I would say:
I am Angie Yingst, nee Kenna.
I am an identical twin.
I am 48 years old.
I love the color red, moss, mushrooms, crystals, plants, and animals.
But those things are not really who I am. When Pixie asked me this, what she wanted me to do is figure out WHO I am.
I am a mother.
I parent three children earth-side and one ever-newborn who died during labor at 38 weeks, so I am a joyous mother and a bereaved mother. I also mother dogs—an 8 lb Jack Russell terrier named Louie and an 80 lb Chocolate Lab named Charlie, who love to make trouble just when I jump on a livestream for our students at Hibiscus Moon Crystal Academy. I mother my clients by giving them unconditional kindness and positive regard, or you know, unconditional love. It is sometimes the first time my clients have felt that. I have mothered circles of people, taught them how to hold space for one another and for themselves and how to heal the deep trauma of being highly sensitive in a very sharp, loud world. I even mothered my father when I became one of his caregivers at age 24 until his death three years ago.
I am also a daughter.
I am literally a daughter of an immigrant who comes from a family of storytellers and musicians and drunks. My mother gave me strength, resilience, confidence, grounding, and healing through her journey to the States, her mothering, her nurturing, her unconditional support, though disconnected from her family, the rainforest and ocean, and her homeland hurt parts of her soul too Still, I learned the stories, the connection to the Earth, the medicine of my ancestors. My mother taught me resourcefulness and laughter. I am a daughter to a person broken by trauma and alcoholism who also taught me hard work and resiliency. I am the daughter of Mother Earth, like my father, I am also her steward, the one who carries her medicine.
But maybe most importantly...
I am a wounded healer.
...a curandera + a bone-picker, one who pulls the meat off the bone, examines it, helps process it, facilitates transmutation and regeneration, but even as a healer, I am wounded nonetheless. Simply, I was called to do this work. After years in deep grief, hidden alcoholism, trauma-burying, and caregiving burnout + fatigue, I found myself seeking my own healing. In thousands of ways, I sought it—through traditional therapy; through quitting drinking + 12-step recovery; though uncovering and working on my own physical illnesses, chronic pain, + the doctors; through meditation, prayer, + psychic work; through travel + howling at the moon; through learning the hard way how to create, hold + maintain clear boundaries; through learning about self-love and radical self-acceptance; through art, writing + creativity; through parenting and being a wife; through research + reading + experiencing other people’s healing; + through navigating my own deep wounding + shadowlands without imploding. And as I healed and continue to heal, I was called to help others, to hold the lantern in the dark, like the Hermit, to guide others through their own wounds and heal.
As a healer, it empowers me to watch another person find their truth, to have revelations about their path in this world, to make connections between the earthly realm and Spirit, to begin to live in the flow, and most importantly, to begin that process of reconciliation and healing, because I can still remember my own journey of uncovering my truths, of having those moments of great revelation and inspiration.
Through all these things I have learned what works for me to revitalize me. The slow surrender to the will of the Earth and God energizes me, validates my work. Circles of peers, long soaks in hot salted water, morning meditations and prayer time, regular sleep, simple food, conversations and laughter, walking/hiking, and art (painting, singing, playing guitar and dancing) restore and empower me. And my work. My work with you. That inspires me.
Thank you for being part of it, and being part of this amazing journey. It is nice to meet you.
Much love,
Angie
understanding the medicine, even when it is disturbing
Friends, this is an essay I wrote a few years ago on my newsletter. I thought I would revisit it on my podcast and blog today as it ties in with the Deer Medicine of this month’s Guided Shamanic Journey. If you are interested in receiving my readings at the Full Moon and/or New Moon, which are collectively pulled, but surprisingly personal, or if you are interested in received an audio guided shamanic journey with an animal each month, which goes in depth with the medicine of the animal, then has a 15-30 minute guided shamanic journey, I can read more in-depth about it under the membership section of my website: MEMBERSHIPS. Several of my journeys are available on my website, and I am working on getting them all up there with three years of guided shamanic journeys for my memberships, which have so many amazing journey including frog, horse, butterfly, bee, beetle, whale, vulture, panther, great blue heron, fox, cougar and more.
On the way to one of my mentoring circle, one of my students hit a deer. She was devastated. The deer most certainly will die, or already had died. She asked me, “What does this mean?” As a circle keeper and an earth medicine walker, I found myself stumbling over my words. Why does this happen to us who walk an earth medicine path? Others chimed in with their thoughts—the deer knew you could hold space for its transition; it was destined to die; better you than someone else.
A few years ago, after a circle, I was driving home. I live in the boonies, as we say, out in the sticks, where I worry about hitting deer. Pennsylvania ranks as the second most deer collisions in the country. So, I drive slowly, cautiously through the fields, and frequently stop for all kinds of wildlife. But I was still in the city, headed home, and bam, a deer ran into my car. It hit my front quarter panel. I pulled over and the deer laid on the side of the road, panting, clearly injured. I called the police and sent Reiki. I envisioned the Reiki energy repairing the deer’s legs and head, and strengthening it. I did this Reiki for almost 15 minutes, and the deer stood up, steady and whole, then ran right out into the street to get demolished and killed by a massive truck.
The truck tore the deer apart. I shook and cried as well.
What does this mean? Is it still medicine for us if we see our medicine dead on the side of the road? And how do we interpret it?
As I meditated on the death of the deer, I could see this interplay between the deer’s medicine and the encroachment of humanity. The medicine of deer resides in its deep vulnerability. When deer interact with humanness and urban environments, we begin to see just how vulnerable these magnificent creatures are. Humans have disrupted the balance of the predator and the prey. Our ancestors decimated the predators—wolves, mountain lion population, the bears—who would have hunted the sick and weak, keeping populations down. Massive deforestation also affects deer populations. Whitetail deer flourish in edge environments, right where the forest meets the suburbs. Streets and cars encroach on the delicate ecosystems. And hunting is down around the country with the ease of shopping for meat in the supermarket.
So, deer medicine is not only a medicine about the individual deer’s vulnerability to predators but the species. Deer, particularly those with antlers, have a strong connection to Spirit. Their antlers are said to reach high to our guides and angels as antennae for messages. Deer connects with the subtle energy system and has heightened senses from hearing to vision to smell. They are always sensing the disruption in the force.
I could not help thinking as my student told me about the deer and her accident that this was part of the critical message for her. Knowing that she is going through a beautiful spiritual opening, deer medicine can come in this way to remind us of our vulnerability during our spiritual opening. When we experience all this light and love that begins to channel through us from Spirit, we live in a bubble of good vibes. When I started opening, I just was always blissed out and only able to tolerate other lightworkers. When we take all this gentle light and vulnerability into the real world, our first encounters with the sickness of our society, the toxicity and negativity of people, the harshness of the news and the suffering of others, we experience this world just like the deer, hit out of nowhere by real life. This modern world is cruel to the vulnerable. Deer medicine embodies vulnerability, quiet, and gentleness. Nothing is more profoundly indicative of the imbalance then when nature interacts with urban life. Where we see how pollution hurts wildlife, or cars kill deer.
This grounded, counter energy to very high vibrational work is part of the medicine lightworkers need to carry as much as the light message of our power animals. When you open in profound ways, you are, of course, more susceptible to those deep wells of grief and compassion. But it goes deeper. There is nothing natural about carrying vulnerability or being an empath in a narcissistic world. We also have to experience and learn about the shadow medicine of our animals. Shamanic work is not always easy or light or fun. It is mostly about challenging ourselves to go beyond the surface, to experience the more profound message, to become stewards of the Earth, spokespeople for the Mother. When all of this starts, we want to live in that amazing Other World of Spirit. When we practice earth medicine, we become intrinsically tied to Mother Earth and Grandmother Moon, and their incredible cycles. Life and death, happiness and grief, masculine and feminine—this delicate balance becomes second sight to us We can see it without trying. Impermanence and suffering of life and of the human condition is part of our medicine and the spiritual experience. We must hold space for both light and darkness, birth and death. As we begin our opening, this can be a harsh reality.
If this happens to you, or you are driving and notice an animal sacred to you, dead on the side of the road, my suggestion is to begin asking what is the medicine for you—both in the animal’s living experience (how does it live, love, eat, hunt, raise its young, etc), then as your medicine interacts with the brutality of this world.
If you are able and feel up to it, take the hair or an item from the animal that was killed (always remembering that if it stinks, it will always stink. If it has bugs, your house will have bugs, so only newly killed animals can be harvested, but that is another post) and use it in ceremony. As medicine keepers, we need to honor the medicine and the allies and giving them a good death is part of this process. You can use that medicine you harvested on your altar or in a medicine bundle.
One thing I know is that none of us aim for the deer or squirrel or bird, so release guilt. Guilt is the illusion of control (if I did something different, it would have changed the outcome). Just be with the profound grief. That is enough suffering. Create a ritual of honoring the medicine of the deer. Sit in the discomfort of your humanness and the ways in which we can mitigate the harshness of our living on the earth. Allow the tears their flow. Fall into ritual and ceremony.
Remember anything, all of our human experience, can become our medicine. To ignore the death, suffering, and violence inherent in our animal medicine is to ignore the full power of its medicine. May you walk gently on the Earth, friends.
crows and other things we wait for
I have been trying to make friends with the crows in my yard. I watch videos of people slowly drawing them in with peanuts and other food. I talk to them, “Good morning, Crows! I have some peanuts for you.”
Sometimes it is just like that. You put out the call. And you wait. This morning, after I put the peanuts out and welcomed the crows in, I saw one land on the porch and look in the window. Later, I noticed my dogs eating every peanut they could reach. I just watched them as I drank coffee and laughed. Sometimes life is just like that and you have to laugh.
Today is exactly six months since the day of my double mastectomy.
I woke that morning, September 15th, like always, sitting with the children while they got ready for school. I just wanted to feel normal one last time, because I had no idea what life would be like after surgery. I wondered how I would feel 24 hours later, or even a month after. Would I like my body? Would I be in so much pain I couldn’t sit up? Would my cancer be invasive after all? Would I need chemo and radiation? What was my life going to look like? I remember thinking, “By the end of the year, this part will be over.” That didn’t seem that far away. The end of the year. I had endured so many things in my life. Three months didn’t seem that long.
And yet as I went through those three months, it felt long. I couldn’t remember not being in pain, not being totally fatigued or experiencing tightness and discomfort, not having open wounds. I had the surgery, then developed an infection in early November and had to have my wounds reopened to drain and drain and drain and drain, packing my own chest wall with gauze. I felt faint the first time I did it. Not from the pain, but the idea of it—stuffing my heart chakra with soft things so it would heal. It sounds like a metaphor. Maybe it is a metaphor.
There is something profound about opening the chest. I can remember in one of my Medical Anthropology courses at university learning about heart surgery and the profound changes people went through after a doctor “fixed” their heart. I thought about that a lot in the last eight months, about how my doctor was taking the small hard balls of cancer out of my body and what’s more, she was taking out these large breasts only really here to serve others—my babies, my lovers, strangers who gawk on the street. She gave me a body that was healed of cancer. A flat-chested, Buddha-bellied and healed body.
I have often said that this surgery felt like the end of the work, not the beginning. There is a freedom in the idea of being healed. My cancer was so early and contained that taking the breasts quite literally cured me of cancer. “If only emotional healing were as easy as this,” I thought many times. And truly, removing my breasts, while incredibly painful, exhausting, and intense, has been so much easier than trauma work.
Healing and uncovering trauma felt endless. Trauma laid in wait in my body, readying for a time when I felt safe enough to see it, when I had done enough work to really reparent myself in a healthy ways. In the last six years of discussing and working actively on my trauma in therapy and in my spiritual work has been so exceptionally difficult. I never had a moment where I thought—one day, this will be over. Healing trauma seemed to be a never-ending cycle of uncovering and uncovering and uncovering I felt stripped of all ego, of all identity, of all that made me me. And Me, it seemed, was simply a conglomeration of defenses, disassociation, and survival, which, when pared away, simply left me a wounded child who needed parenting.
The word I chose for 2021 was Healed. It was the process of being done with reliving and understanding my trauma and their responses, of being actively engaged in the processing part. I was ready to be in the moved-on part. I thought I might be there, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t until I got the call that my biopsy was positive for cancer that I had to reckon with what healed meant. Because it was at that moment that I said, “How do you want to approach this thing?” And I thought about my clients and what I tell them when life falls apart. It’s not one thing to do. It is an entire mindset shift and a reframing away from “This is happening to me” to “. Gratitude. Ritual. Asking for help. Energy work. Prayers. Herbs. Grieving. Connection. Community. Laughing.
And I laughed so very much.
I had appointments with my breast surgeon every week for two months after I had developed the infection in my chest. I asked her about her life and her education. While I lay back on the table, she tended to my wounds. We are the same age—the surgeon and I. And I developed a deep feeling of kinship and love for her that I never felt for a healthcare provider. Maybe it was because she is so kind, patient, non-judgmental. Or maybe it is because I trusted her and trust has been a hard one for me. Or maybe it was because she wore a Blue Kyanite and Amethyst pendant at the appointment before my surgery. I told her then that I was a crystal healer and Reiki master. She said, “You are? Great. You will be fine. You will have no trouble healing then. Do you want me to wear this for your surgery?” And I nodded, tearing up. And she wore it. She believed I could heal. I believed I could heal. And now I have healed.
Six months ago as I lie in my hospital bed, only a nightlight illuminating the room, I allowed myself to be surrounded by the love and prayers people were sending me. I could see the faces in my mind’s eye and I felt like I was floating, absorbing love into my cells. My chest felt like I had an iron bra on and constricted in a way that was both comforting and disconcerting. A very clear voice said:
Angie, there is going to be a time when you feel no pain and simply have a scar. You will be healed.
It was a mantra I said to myself this autumn and early winter. When I developed an infection, I thought:
Angie, there is going to be a time when you feel no pain and do not have open wounds. You will be healed.
When I developed COVID in the midst of the open wound situation, I thought:
Angie, there is going to be a time when you feel no pain and no illness. You will have closed wounds and no cough. There is going to be a time when you feel no pain and no illness. You will be healed.
So, I wanted to share this on the anniversary of my six months post-surgery if you are struggling. There will be a time when you will feel no pain and have no illness. There will be a time when your trauma work is done or when your depression has lightened, or your addiction is in remission, or your heart is not so broken. There is going to be a time when you feel no pain and do not have open wounds. You will be healed.
Until then, watch the birds come back to the feeders. Cry. Create a ritual. Use some crystals and herbs. Write about it in your journal. Scream in the woods. And laugh.
rebirth
I have been thinking about rebirth so much these past few weeks, maybe even months, as the animals of rebirth began appearing for our monthly journeys in the Spring. Jaguar showed up first, the Queen of Shadow work and the one who often appears for dismemberment, then Snake, the shedder of skin and the symbol of transformation, and then in August, Beetle came…a small guide of rebirth who turns literal shit to nourishment, recycling our difficult experiences into powerful spiritual lessons. My personal work with Vulture prepares me, of course, intimately connecting to death and rebirth.
Through this entire process with breast cancer, it has felt like the end of a dis-ease, not the beginning. A personal invitation to be reborn into the healed Angie, the one who has done the work. That might sound strange, but it felt like the culmination of many years of working through trauma, grief, soul loss, and heart chakra imbalances. Like there is this part of you—over the heart, that has manifested cancer in my milk ducts. Interestingly, the cancer developed in a breast I was never able to produce milk out of. That is not exactly true. The milk was produced, but it could not be expressed. (Is that a metaphor or what?) I had a child who died, and I remember how engorged and painful my breasts were, filled with milk and no child to drink. I put huge cabbage leaves on it, until they withered and I smelled like an Eastern European soup. I would cry in the shower as my breasts would weep milk. Except the right one. It would just stay hard and engorged and no milk would weep until it just stopped trying.
During those days, I often thought about this class on Death and Dying in college with one of my mentors Dr. John Raines. He said that babies cry because they know they deserve food, comfort and love. And the cry, he explained, was exactly designed to be uncomfortable for humans, it is a noise we want to stop. It is only when they cry and no one comes that babies stop crying. My breasts were the same. They eventually stopped weeping milk because no baby came to feed.
It is interesting that this tidbit came from a class on Death and Dying. We have those moments we face death both metaphorically and literally. Maybe we survive a great trauma that threatened our life, or we stand and face our demons and get sober, or we ask for a new way to be in the world. In the process of earth medicine initiation, we undergo the process of rebirth through the shamanic experience of dismemberment, where, in the journey state, we literally ask our animals to rip us apart, tearing at us, killing us in journey, so that we may rebirth. With Vulture as my guide, she asked me to release my soul. She could not tear me apart alive. This process of releasing brought up so many emotions and feelings of helplessness that had permeated my life…how do I let go when all I have been doing is holding on tight? It is a zen koan, a paradox for survivors. Somehow I did, though. That is the thing…somehow we do. We do it when the holding on is killing us.
When I had my first chakra balancing many many years ago, my heart was completely closed. The pendulum did not move. It just stood stock still. It disturbed me. I had learned through my many years of life how to shut my heart off. Immediately, the self-punishing thoughts flooded in. “Oh my God, I am broken. My heart is shut. I am a monster.” (This is why I teach my students to be kind and gentle when doing a chakra balancing.) It has been decades-long work to open my heart and to trust people. It was well before I became a healer that I started, but I knew then that the pendulum was telling me something I needed to pay attention to. Opening my heart involved many healers, many therapists, many releases, many times feeling so vulnerable and fearful that I took steps backward and then when I was ready, started back on the path.
I say this because there is no healer that isn’t a wounded healer. Our DNA, our strength as healers comes from our wounds. It comes from our humanness, not our divinity or otherworldliness. While I appreciate there are many who feel shadow work is not as important as light work, I politely, yet adamantly, beg to differ. Any lightwork done without being aware of your wounds ultimately will take you back on the same path again and again. You encounter the same lessons, the same kinds of people (friends, lovers, colleagues, enemies.) Our wounds are invisible blocks that keep us in an eternal loop on the spiritual path, like Sisyphus, the Greek King who cheated death twice and was forced to roll a huge boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down. Sisyphus’s story has come to represent any futile, yet difficult task. Unless, we can identify our own triggers, wounds, and blocks; make them visible then dismantle them, we stay in this endless Sisyphean cycle. This is the rebirth. To simply emerge from the tedious work, to slowly break down that rock, our wounds into smaller pieces, so then we can break that cycle. Then our journey isn't so tedious.
Where shamanic and earth medicine work excel is in the rituals, ceremonies, symbolic work of that rebirth. We call in the snake, the beetle, the vulture to help us find a way to break our cycles. This work is a lifelong process. I have been intimately involved with this trauma work and work around my own heart for so long it is almost comical, but also I didn’t start it to be a good healer or to write a newsletter or blog post. I started it because that heart, the one closed and unable to weep, demanded I look at it. This petulant, hurt child within me said, “I cannot be ignored any longer. I will not be neglected. I need to be loved.” It began crying and I began responding. And in turn, I healed those around me, who tried to get into that closed heart for years.
Self-care and self-love sound like such bullshit terms, but they are juicy, deep, life-altering journeys. They aren’t just bubble baths and dark chocolate and masturbation. Self-love embodies self-compassion, self-care, self-worth, and self-actualization. We must remother ourselves, or refather ourselves. That has been the challenge—seeing and loving myself unconditionally. But when I struggle, I look at my own children and think, "You are just like them--beautiful, perfect, worthy of care."
It is strange to see my body without breasts. I don't NOT like it. It is just an adjustment. I am almost starting to like it more. I have been trying to take some time with no bra and no shirt to just get used to how I look now—a huge scar running across the place where my babies suckled. My belly sticks out like a big Buddha belly and my chest goes in, almost concave. Right now it is all puckered and there are major folds in it that are angry and tight. They will soften over time. Just like the other scars I have healed in my life—things soften with time. I can honestly say that I feel complete, even without my breasts. This body does not seem ugly, or unlovable, or unworthy at all. It is simply an adjustment.
This is what healing gives you—unconditional radical self-acceptance. I have been working on it for years by demanding I love myself. I thought that if I just said it enough, wrote it out on enough intentions, it would happen, but the truth is—that isn't what did it. You are not in control of the healing timeline. It is something you cannot fake. You simply love yourself until you are willing to accept the love. That's the thing--for me, self-love was about accepting the love, not giving it. Giving love was easy for me, but accepting it was a whole other thing altogether. You become gentle with your inner voice. One day something weird happens—you get diagnosed with breast cancer, or your partner leaves you, or you notice that your face is wrinkled and your hair grey, or you break something valuable and through this long rebirthing process you realize you aren't mad at you, or disappointed, or embarrassed, or ashamed. You stand tall and you say, “Yep, that is me, still me, still the same me as yesterday, still worthy of love and acceptance. I love you. You got this, kid.”
You got this, kid. I love you.
healing messiness
This is from my latest newsletter. You can subscribe here.
dearest friends,
The birds feast on the sorghum that has sprouted from bird seed. It is beautiful how they know how to do this, even if they have never seen sorghum before.
In the winter months, I watch the birds from my meditation room. They congregate around the feeders, the suet and the fresh fruit I put out for them. I put a handmade feeder on the deck this year, because I couldn’t reach it on the feeding station and besides, they are fun to watch during meals. I love the drama of it. My husband complained about the mess they made. He lost patience when a small carpet of sprouts began spreading in late Spring on the newly mulched walkways. We spent a few days pick axing, clearing, digging out and planting flowers and bushes to have these unsanctioned plants begin their fight for life and survival.
I root for the weeds, I admit. I cheer them on in whispers and stolen words. Once you begin the process of learning what and why the weed-plants grow in your yard, it is hard to pull out the ones that simply were here first. They are designed to feed the native animals and insects. But I began the process of cleaning the birdseed from the deck. And by cleaning, I mean, I swept them onto the lawn, beyond the mulched pathways, right at this place where I struggle with the mower, because it is too steep and I have an active imagination, particularly in regards to my own death. I thought the birds might find some food among the grass and be apt to scratch at the Earth a little. Let’s see what happens, I thought. I pulled the mulch up with the sprouts, carrying them to a tree stump on the hillside, and simply spread them out. Grow here, I invited them. Fill in the area. Be plentiful. I put an old planter stand there too, and that is where I put the handmade feeder. Problem solved.
It wasn’t long until I received a message from my local birders group that there is an avian pandemic, spread through backyard bird feeders and well-meaning bird enthusiasts. We are encouraged in the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic to stop feeding them at collective stations, so I just left the feeders heartbreakingly empty. Because I didn't have the heart to cull all the bird seeds that started becoming plants in Spring, they grew and grew in Summer—five feet tall and beyond. They covered the entire hillside. Now, I have the most amazing garden of sunflowers and sorghum and millet, colors of bright yellow and ochre and oranges and reds. The Sunflowers are beautiful and then when they wither and grow brown, leaves falling, the birds began to visit again, and eat the seeds. The Sorghum turns burnt umber and the birds come in droves to eat and pick at their amazing heads. Golden Finch and black birds, starlings and cowbirds, hold onto the strong stalks and peck at the seed that grew out of their own messiness and shit.
This is something I relate to.
Finding medicine and nourishment in my own messiness and shit. Maybe that is what I should write on my website—Angelica Yingst, specialist in finding medicine and nourishment in your own messiness and shit. It is my new mantra--Nothing is wasted. I write so rarely in this newsletter and yet, you have probably heard it many times. I try to embody and model for my clients, my students, my children, my friends, and my family how to deal with shit. How to reach out, how to find a community, how to make things sacred. When I am vulnerable and open, it heals not only me, but also is of service to other people. I recognize this, and yet it is still hellishly hard to be vulnerable and open. I tell stories about bird seed and sorghum and shit because it is hard and I am having trouble getting to the point, so suffice to say, this is me sweeping my bird seed and my shit onto the grass to see what sprouts.
A month ago now, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
It just came, out of a routine mammogram. Nothing extraordinary—no lump or bleeding or pain or strangeness, just something they saw on an annual scan. They told me it was early and that I was lucky.
I feel lucky.
They told me in the same breath that I would have to decide what I wanted to do, which was basically one choice…one boob or two? Or rather a single mastectomy or a double? Which would I like? Would I like a single mastectomy or a double?
With one boob, I could shoot archery like an Amazon, but I would still have to wear a bra with a prosthetic tit. With two gone, I could have a weirdly unnippled flat chest, which will probably be lumpy, rather than flat, because let’s face it my entire body is lumpy. I probably won’t like either choice, they said, but maybe this choice will save your life. We think it will. Maybe you can avoid chemotherapy and radiation and death, they said, but honestly, you are so lucky to have found it now.
I feel lucky. I chose to remove both of my breasts.
A friend reached out telling me they saw a hawk flying with a snake. I saw the same thing a few weeks ago, like an Aztec myth or a Homeric saga, we are seeing similar signs. We wondered if it was a global message or a personal one. Maybe it is both...I can't help but think, in the way I did so many years ago when my daughter died, that life continues. That hawks capture snakes and people go to the mall and buy stupid shit and dogs bark at the neighbors even though things are happening in slow motion and in fear-o-vision for me. There are signs and synchronicities and healing, but I still have cancer. I am dealing with this by organizing my cabinets and buying hoodies.
When I was given this diagnosis, I kept thinking, "Angie, how will you make this sacred?" How can I capture this time before my breasts are gone forever? If I sprinkle this old bird seed and shit onto the grass, will it grow into something beautiful and nourishing? I know I will create artwork and write, because that is what I do with everything. I have created a crystal grid and an altar and called in Magdalene and Mother Mary and Kali showed up and Vulture…and yet, I simply want to lie in bed and stop the relentless litany of "Things I Need to Do Before DMX Day." And I can’t also, because the litany and the list are real and, from having done the lying in bed, obsessing about not obsessing thing, it doesn’t help. Organizing and making lists makes me feel in control when everything is out of my control.
I am lucky. And yet, how will I release my breasts, the body parts that fed my babies (do you want tetita? I would ask them, as they turned their heads to latch on.) How will I release the chest they lean on, cuddle into, grab for when they are scared? How do I offer up the boobs that offered hugs to my hundreds of clients over the years and my sponsees who ask for their bosom hugs? How do I cut off the breasts that held pleasure and sensuality for my lovers? The breasts that are my husband’s favorite body part?
It is easy to release them when I think of that time in my life when I was still a girl, when my breasts seemed to grow overnight. One day, my landscape was flat, and then small hills appeared. I remember how much they hurt when a football hit my chest. I remember when the boys started snapping bras and reaching over me, so they could graze them for a cheap thrill. I went from a flat, athletic girl to one leered at, an object of lust who still wasn’t sure if she wanted to play dolls or cut out Teen Beat pictures of George Michael. They have been the part of me people glared at, evidence that I was a slut or a hoochie mama intent on stealing their boyfriends. They brought derision and discomfort and pearl-clutching if I wore a spaghetti strap tank. I have wanted them off since they were first unwantingly groped by creepy men or whistled at when I was just mindlessly walking down city streets. My breasts have brought annoyance and trauma and healing and love. It is a complicated relationship.
This is the thing about us humans—even if we have never faced this particular crisis, we know how to make it sacred. I have learned to make it sacred by including people, by reaching out, by asking for support. Innately, we know how to eat the sorghum that grew from messiness and shit. We invite our bird friends to share.
***
I know this is shocking. It is shocking to me. But I have to tend to myself. I have shut down everything in my shop—distance readings and healings, sales and memberships. I wish I could be present and hold space for you, but right now, this deep healing is reserved for me. Besides all I think all day is, “I have cancer. I am so lucky it is not worse.” My thoughts are dominated by this particular paradoxical truth. It is a niggling mantra that I keep wrestling with, like a Zen koan. I am devoted to my clients and students, but I am healing and coming to terms with this and making it sacred. And in that process, I have had to simplify and not be so bloody busy, as well as quarantine before surgery and prepare my home.
I have one more event before surgery on September 15th at Alta View Wellness Center with my bestie, Sharon Muzio. We are doing a shamanic healing circle on August 29th at 4p at Alta View—Sharon will lead the guided journey and I will do the hands-on healing. You can register here.
I am beautifully interconnected to a vast, powerful circle of psychic, empathic healers, priestesses, shamanic wisdom and medicine keepers, seers, seekers, practitioners and beautiful souls like you, many around the world who I have been privileged to work with. If your expertise and experience falls into working with cancer, healing from surgery and making this process sacred, I’d love to hear about it. Please email or call (717-770-9109) and with that being said, hopefully, you understand that I am overwhelmed easily, so I might not get back to you immediately, or take your advice. Please do not take this personally as I am trying to intuitively navigate to what feels healing to me right now at this time.
When I return, I will let you know. I may even write you a love letter or two.
summer solstice check-in
Early Summer in Pennsylvania blossoms into Wild Black Raspberries, Mugwort sprouting up wherever you let it, Wild Yarrow that hides in the tree line and roadsides, pretending to be Queen Anne's Lace. I see the snake tails disappearing into the long grasses and listen for the calls of the nighthawks. It only takes opening the eyes of your eyes and the ears of your ears to see the medicine all around you.
I turned my chicken coop into a potting shed and have fully dived into herbalism classes and study. I had always dabbled, but I wanted more formal training, and so I am getting it. I have always grown herbs to use for teas and salves, but it is different this year when my eyes became more finely tuned to the subtle healing of all the native plants of my area. My kids thought I was magick when I chewed up a Fleasbane Daisy and put it on a bugbite of my son, and it disappeared. I felt like magick too, as he said, "I thought that was a weed."
Weeds are just a matter of perspective, son.
I think about that quite a bit--how the thing we think is a nuisance ends up becoming the medicine. How a flower's beauty is all a matter of perspective. Same with humans. I think about how hard I work pulling unsanctioned flowers out of a bed I am trying to plant flowers in. We learn the things we learn through nature. I have never wasted an experience...I have used it all in some way. I would venture to say you have too.
I have spent the last few years healing trauma from different realms of my life--big traumas and little ones. I honestly just started calling things by their proper name. It has been the most humbling, difficult aspect of my work with self-love and self-compassion. I suppose this is called shadow work, but it feels more like integration work.
I remember being particularly keyed up and triggered by something and losing my patience with my kids a few minutes later. I put myself in time-out and my husband followed me. I was crying. And in that crying without thinking I said, "Why did bad stuff happen to me?" It is a question I never let myself ask, really. It feels so immature, so unevolved, to ask that question, and yet, the child in me needs a voice too. I have suppressed her for too long. Sometimes the work we need to do is just to say--that just wasn't fair.
For me, sitting in the unfair, is not comfortable. I am a fighter (not a flighter or fawner). I prefer fighting for justice. I don't usually struggle with fighting for my rights or the rights of others. But just sitting with injustice is so difficult for me. And yet that has been the work of the last few years...sitting in injustice--in our outer world with the struggles of black and indigenous people (761 bodies of indigenous children found this week outside of a residential school is such a horrendous example of this), and people of color, and then in our inner world with our own suffering and struggles healing trauma, addiction, codependency, fear, grief, anger, physical and mental struggles...we have to sit with injustice. All of us.
After I sit and feel the weight of it, I take a breath. I process it. And then look at this unsanctioned act and make medicine out of it. When Elizabeth Kubler Ross and David Kessler mention the 5 stages of grief, they were talking about acceptance of death. It was written for those who were dying, not those who were living, but quickly, it was adopted by the grieving. Recently, I read that Kessler postulates another stage for the grieving--making meaning. This is what humans do. We make meaning. We seek a story. We want to thrive.
And so I challenge you to make meaning out of a loss, to find a weed and make it medicine. There is beauty in every flower. It is just a matter of perspective.
Episode 12: Tarot's Card of the Year for 2020 with Kyra Paules
I love me a good conversation with Kyra. It was so fun to talk about the Card of the Year (Emperor) for 2020 and the Card for 2021 (Hierophant). So we talk Tarot and the energy of the past two years and how we see archetype and tarot work play out on a larger scale with this work.
Episodes 10 + 11: Essay about Grief, Suffering + Screaming
I took a little turn on my podcast as we were entering the holiday season to just riff on some ideas I have shared before, but seem relevant every year which is grief and suffering and how deeply important they are to just be in when we feel them. I just spent two episodes talking about all of this. If you want to hear some thoughts about why spiritual bypassing sucks, here ya go!
Episode 9: Introverts & Spirituality with Alison Truitt
Today’s episode features my friend Alison Truitt. I met Alison a few years ago in a Tarot class I was teaching where Ali was the only student. We went deep really quickly, as tarot forces you to do. We share many of the same practices and rituals and especially our way of being in the world, because we are both Introverts. That might be surprising to some of you, especially because I am so public with my work. But I think the defining aspect of being an introvert is where you draw your energy—alone or with others. Alison and I decided to explore this topic today, talking about being an introvert, a highly sensitive person or an empath and our spiritual journey. I really wanted to have a conversation about this topic, because those of us in the spiritual realms often talk about the power of community and circles, but this is not everyone’s comfort zone. Many of us introverts are solitary practitioners and practice our own religious or spiritual practices that are separate from organized religions. So, I wanted to ask Alison: What is circle like as an introvert? What is your practice like? We also explored the tarot archetype of the Hermit, the introvert’s guide in a spiritual world. So, Alison was born and raised in the ridges and foothills of the Appalachians of Pennsylvania. As she describes in the podcast, she finds immeasurable solace in and inspiration from Mother Earth. She believes that Nature’s happenings are a reflection of one’s own rhythms. Alison is also guided by the cycles of the seasons and the moon and is strongly connected to both her Celtic heritage and the Divine Feminine. She seeks to honor all that has shaped her path as she looks inward to reclaim her soul's purpose for this lifetime and outward to manifest beauty and share it with others. Alison writes at her blog the Hermit’s Handicrafts at wordpress (I’ll put the link in the show notes) and she sells beautiful jewelry, malas and artwork around the journey of pregnancy, motherhood and beyond at her Etsy shop the Hermit’s handicrafts. Hope you enjoy this episode of Centered.
https://thehermitshandicrafts.wordpress.com/
https://www.etsy.com/shop/HermitHandicrafts
Episode 8: Ethics with Kyra Paules
In this episode, Kyra and I talk about ethics as a healer and tarot reader and some challenges we face in our community without a governing board. We talk about holding space, training and certifications, soul retrieval, shadow work and more.
Episode 7: Angie Answers Your Questions
Angie flies solo on this episode by answering your questions. Angie talks about meditation, sacred spaces, discernment, shamanism and her origin story. Oh, and Angie mentions this is a mini-episode. It is not. Send me your questions at angie@themoonandstone.com
Episode 6: The Dead Baby Club with Jess Southwood
Today’s conversation is with one of my closest friends Jess Southwood. Unlike my other guests who work in the realm of spirituality, Jess is a Business consultant and facilitator, with a particular focus on leadership development, team dynamics and creativity in business. But honestly, I didn’t invite her to talk to me about her work, though it is fascinating and has taken her all over the world. I didn’t invite Jess to talk because she loves yoga and writing and poetry. I invited Jess here because we share something in common—we re both bereaved mothers. We “met” in 2009, after our second daughters were stillborn. And through our grief, we both sought community on the internet and through starting our own blogs about grief and mothering. We were both writerly and creative and irreverent and formed an immediate and all-encompassing bond. I wrote at a blog called Still life with Circles, and she wrote at a blog called afteriris and then we both were invited to write for the Literary Hub Glow in the Woods, founded by Kate Inglis as a place to write more literarily about what Kate titled babyloss. I later became the editor for a few years. We spent time in person together, and have maintained our friendship for the last 11 years, growing together and experiencing more of us. I wanted to talk to Jess about sisterhood, spiritual bonding, emotional intimacy, grieving publicly, and you know, dead babies. We say that quite a bit in this episode. We talk about it bluntly, like you find in the community of grieving women on the internet. There is a whole community. Most people who have never lost a child have no idea there is a corner of the internet where women talk about the death of their baby—over and over again. We write stories and exchange emails and have an entire community of bereaved mothers and fathers. Jess is an extraordinary woman. I feel so blessed to have her as one of my best friends. As you can hear from our conversation, she is deeply thoughtful, funny, intelligent, self-aware and interesting. Jess’ s first collection of poetry can be found at littlelosses.com. She has a Masters degree in Shakespeare Studies from the Shakespeare Institute in Stratford-upon-Avon. She lives in Birmingham, UK, with her husband, three children, two cats, one dog, and too many books. I hoe you enjoy my conversation with Jess Southwood.
My grief blog: http://stilllifewithcircles.blogspot.com
Jess’s first poetry collection: https://littlelosses.com/
Glow in the Woods: http://www.glowinthewoods.com/
We mentioned a few things in this podcast including the Right Where I Am Project.
First year: http://stilllifewithcircles.blogspot.com/p/right-where-i-am-project.html
The last year I did this: http://stilllifewithcircles.blogspot.com/2014/07/right-where-i-am-five-years-and-almost.html
Kate Inglis who coined the term Babyloss’s writing: http://www.kateinglis.com/
Kara Chipoletti Jones https://linktr.ee/griefandcreativity
Niobe and Dead Baby Jokes: her blog
Niobe’s GITW posts: http://www.glowinthewoods.com/blog/tag/Niobe
Angie’s GITW posts: http://www.glowinthewoods.com/blog/tag/Angie
Jess’s GITW posts: http://www.glowinthewoods.com/blog/tag/Jess
Episode 5: Coming Out of the Broom Closet with Kristin Gallagher
Eclectic Pagan Witch Kristin Gallagher and I sat down for a little talk about coming out of the closet—the broom closet, that is, and being a public witch. It is something we have privately talked about for years—sharing our experiences with being public and sharing our personal spirituality. I absolutely love Kristin and her energy. She has gotten super popular on TikTok, sharing her witchy content and Witchy Mamma lifestyle.
You can find Kristin on TikTok at @onewitchymamma or on Instagram at witchy.mamma – Instagram and coming soon (no videos up yet) WitchyMamma – Youtube. I hope you enjoy my conversation with Kristin Gallagher. Hope you enjoy my conversation with Kristin!
Episode 4: Tarot's Gatekeepers of Shadow with Kyra Paules
You know, I love good conversations with laughter and insight. Kyra and I always seem to have these interesting wandering conversations that are enlightening and interesting. This one started as a conversation about the “dark cards” of the Major Arcana. We were basically using the Rider-Waite-Smith deck for reference and start with the Hanged Man and end with the Tower, talking about this part of the spiritual journey through the Major Arcana.