It was January 6, a full moon, and two friends and I were gathered to pull Tarot cards for a year-ahead spiral. Where am I now? I asked. What is my teacher for this winter season? I flipped a card. Night rain interrupted by a rainbow streak of lightning, eight branches with a clearing in the center. The 8 of Wands. Movement and change. “What does this taste like?” I wondered. 

The next day, I went to my kitchen to find out. Dandelion root tea, I thought, known for moving stagnant energy, especially through the kidneys and liver. I soak the dried roots in hot water and taste the bitter brew. This wants to be a cocktail. I open the cabinet where I keep my bottles. What wants to move?

Ancho Reyes, chile heat and sweetness. Campari, its red color taking charge. A splash of Amaro Flora from Eda Rhyne in Asheville, its herbal fire hard to sip on its own but lending the perfect edge to the mixture. A few drops of cacao and flower bitters. I stirred it all with ice and tasted it. The flavors danced, moving each other. My own 8 of Wands. I loved this drink, and when I brought some in a mason jar to a dinner party that weekend, it went down easy, half tea, half spirits.

So much in my life is moving right now, and it all feels like positive change. I’m moving small things, like half-jars of condiments out of my fridge and putting them to work. I’m using a heavier kettlebell in my workouts. I’m asking my husband and son to share more of the laundry. I’m trying out new roles, not always being the organizer of things, sometimes just being present. And trying new approaches, like letting invitations come and waiting for my gut to affirm if what comes my way is the right thing.

Looking back at the past two years, I can see bigger movements. My son’s mental health, which plummeted in the pandemic, seems lighter now. We moved across the country and planted new roots, real friendships blossoming. I left my job and didn’t look back. Now, the big movement for me is integrating all of it – taking the structured, systems-level thinking I learned working in tech and applying it to heart-centered work in new domains: my creative practice, community service, and exploring what to build next.

My anchor in all this movement is going back to the kitchen. I made another batch of the 8 of Wands cocktail, taking some to a neighbor’s hangout, and saving the rest for myself. At the bottom of my glass, I could see some sediment settling next to the strip of lemon zest I used for a garnish – bits of dandelion root too fine to be strained out. With all this movement, what keeps its form? What settles at the bottom of my glass? An openness to deeper healing, a willingness to keep going into the unknown. Coming back to my vision, even when I only see parts of it, writing and speaking my hunger and my dreams.