Hold Fast in the In-Between

Good afternoon, friends.

At long last, it looks like we finally have a day without rain. The temperature gauge is sitting at 22°C, which is 71.6°F for my American friends and for those of you not using metric.

According to my weather station, we have had 86 millimetres of rain so far this month, which works out to about 3.39 inches. That is still a lot of rain, especially considering we are not even at the end of the month yet. No wonder everything feels soaked through. The ground is heavy. The garden is heavy. Even the spirit feels a little waterlogged after that much wet.

But today is Friday, and thank the gods for that. The week is ending. The sky has opened. The air feels warmer. And if the weather holds, maybe I can finally get outside and start getting the garden ready.

My tomato plants are not doing so well. I started them too early, trying to get ahead of the season, trying to be proactive, and now I am paying for that eagerness. There is a lesson in that somewhere. Sometimes we try to outrun the wheel of the year, and all we really do is exhaust ourselves and stress the tender things we are trying to grow.

I also sent an email to the lawyer this morning to find out where we stand on getting the papers filed. That road has been a long one, a winding one, and a frustrating one. So that energy is in the air too, lingering in the background while I shuffle cards, watch the sky, and wait for movement.

And then there was one small thing this morning that struck me.

For decades, I was always amazed by how my father could wake up five minutes before his alarm clock, sit there and wait for it to go off. This morning, I woke up before mine and turned it off before it rang. I had to laugh. I thought, well now, that is different. Maybe that means something is finally starting to settle back into place health-wise. Maybe my body is remembering its own rhythm again.

So with all of that in the air, the weather, the waiting, the legal road, the struggling tomatoes, the small sign of waking before the alarm, I sat down with the cards.

Today’s horoscope for Cancer said this:

The term “survival of the fittest” often comes down to being the one who refuses to quit, especially for someone like you who never gives up, dear Moonchild. One of your superpowers is your tenacity. You hold on long after others walk away from challenges. You have a hard outer shell, and you can endure all kinds of difficulties simply by refusing to break. You are so close to a current goal, much closer than you realize, or than is obvious to anyone at the moment. Continue to believe in yourself. Keep hanging on. You will not just survive, you will thrive.

Then the cards came:

Past: Page of Cups reversed
Present: King of Wands reversed
Future: The Moon
Querent: Knight of Pentacles

And taken all together, the message feels simple.

This is a season of holding fast.

The horoscope speaks of tenacity. The cards speak of frustration, uncertainty, and the need to keep moving even when the way ahead is not fully clear. The Page of Cups reversed feels like emotions that have been stirred up and made muddy. The King of Wands reversed feels like fire that wants to move but keeps catching on delay, resistance, or exhaustion. The Moon says the road ahead is still partly hidden. And the Knight of Pentacles says: keep going anyway. One step. One task. One day at a time.

That feels like the shape of things right now.

Not full clarity. Not full ease. Not full bloom. But not defeat either.

Just that in-between place where the rain has not fully left the ground, where the tomatoes are struggling a little, where the papers are still not filed yet, where the body is only just beginning to settle, and where the spirit is being asked not to quit before the turn comes.

With Brigid, I feel the hearth fire here. Not the blaze that rushes. The steady flame that is tended. The reminder to keep faith with what is still alive, even if it is not yet thriving.

With Skadi, I feel endurance. Toughness. The wisdom of hard seasons. The knowledge that not every sacred path is warm or easy, but it can still be walked with strength and dignity.

With Ratatoskr, I feel the message moving through all of this. News may still be coming. Signs may still be unfolding. Not everything has spoken fully yet. So listen carefully, but do not let every shadow become a fear and do not let every delay become a defeat.

And with the Fir, evergreen and steadfast, I feel the deeper truth underneath all of it: remain rooted. Stand through the weather. Keep your colour through difficult seasons. Do not assume that because the sky has been grey, spring is not still coming.

So overall, this reading feels less like prediction and more like spiritual instruction.

Hold on.

Tend what is yours to tend.

Do not force what is still hidden.

Do not give up because the path is moonlit instead of sunlit.

Trust that you may be closer than you think.

And maybe that is the heart of today.

A break in the rain. Warmth in the air. Wet ground. Fragile plants. Waiting on papers. A body slowly finding its rhythm again. A spirit being reminded that survival is not the end of the story. Thriving may still be coming. Just not all at once.

So here is hoping I hear back from the lawyer today. Here is hoping the papers finally get filed. Here is hoping the tomato plants survive my enthusiasm. And here is hoping that wherever you are, your own spirit is finding the strength to hold on a little longer too.

Later this weekend, hopefully there will be gardening. And hopefully there will also be some work on Standing on the Ledge, getting those new tools and new pieces of content up.

That’s it. That’s all for now.

Godspeed.