"Placeholder names are words that can refer to objects or people whose names are temporarily forgotten, irrelevant, or unknown in the context in which they are being discussed." - "Placeholder name" Wikipedia
"I am a old woman," it wasn't an excuse. As the two of us stood at the entrance to the nightclub it was a statement. The guy was asking for my I.D. My date was laughing out loud.
"You're kidding right?" I looked the bouncer in the eye; I looked up off the top of my trifocals and waited for his answer. Right, I should have been ... what? Felt complimented. Neither of us seemed primed with humor that night. And, my partner played along waiting to see what happened. The chicks behind us were fumbling for their wallets, and didn't mind waiting as I finally fished my driver's license from my purse.
Humor must have finally bit the guy, he looked at my picture, and the date. D.O.B. November 16, 1947. He was grinning now. "Wow, you're the same age as my grandmother."
The young man with seriously bulging biceps bowed low. Maybe he forgot his contacts or maybe what my husband kept telling me was true-- "You don't age. How do you do that?" I never look in mirrors, haven't got one big enough to look at so I've stopped bothering.
This is a bit of fiction wrapping itself around truth, it's my process of making my way through a time of de-stabilization (it's Saturn retrograde and Jupiter retrograde ... so luck and understanding are both on hold). I'm giving thanks on a Kane Po (a Kane phase of the moon) and seriously considering the effects of the recent dose of medicine I received last week. The small wooden kinolau appeared on the beach after a session with my medicine woman. We worked with some very old and lingering soul pain, and the specific effects that pain has when spring and the rites of pollen riotously fill the environment where I live.
Now ... to disclose and continue with the story, I find it necessary to shift from truth to myth to be comfortable moving forward. That's why I'm mixing things together here. The definition from Wikipedia is significant. This is about Placeholder names. We've all had occasion, or seasons, where we can't remember the name of something and call the thing a whatchacallit. If you're as old as I am the gizmo might be a placeholder name for the hand-held thingy that makes phone calls and takes pictures.
The short conversation with the old woman being asked for her I.D. by the young man with serious biceps is meant to breed a little silliness, because the issue my medicine woman and I are dealing with has to do with rituals of gratitude and acceptance. At this point in my life (Saturn retrogrades back into Scorpio for the last time in my lifetime) I'm calling on my Ancestors and the Soul they have cared for (that is me) This is about clicking of sticks to ask the ancestors for help. It's the Placeholder Soul I've forgotten to acknowledge and give gratitude to.
Let's see how I can unwind the story well enough.
When I was trying to make sense of life for the umpteenth time back in 2008, I hunted up a psychic who read Akashic Records. She told me that when I was born, the soul assigned to me was not yet ready for prime time Earth life. The primitive reality of Earth was too much for this other star system soul. In a nutshell Earth did not look like a safe place to be living the rest of her life. So ... she opted out. Played the waiting game. Well, no baby can be born on Earth without a soul. It just can't happen. Remember Raven and the Whale? It's a story about every living being having and needing a soul. If you haven't listened to that story, it would be worth a little diversion ... really!
In my case, my pre-mature purple skinned baby girl self needed a soul. A Placeholder Soul, a 'simple and down-to-earth' soul stepped in to take the reluctant other star system soul meant for me. For sixty-one years BakBak (the name I gave my Placeholder Soul; a character name I borrowed from one of Sheherazade's 1001 Tales of the Arabian Nights) had been my soul's guide. The work was complicated by the eventual arrival of that reluctant other star-system soul. For decades the two souls have tugged and pulled at my life path like a rubber band.
When I began working with the psychic in 2008 she sent BakBak off to have a soul's life independent of me. I never said a true good-bye, nor did I set up an altar where BakBak's memory, and sacrifice is acknowledged every day. Can you imagine what it's like to have two souls for sixty years? Let me tell you the astrological natal chart could tell you a lot if you read charts.
Anyway ... on and on.
My medicine woman and I have begun the work of gratitude for my Placeholder Soul, BakBak. Placed at the altar, along with Kainoa this old woman who appears to be aging in reverse does the work while Saturn reverses into the sign of my Sun, Chiron, Mercury and Mid-Heaven. Perhaps the elixir of compassion for both my Placehold Soul and me can be concocted this spring. An offering for the approaching New Moon in Pisces and Solar Eclipse at Equinox.
A lot goes into making a life, with a soul that dances for the fullness of being human. Without reservations, this kind of life could embrace springtime with all its bombastic appreciation for life. I have much to unlearn, and BakBak in his/her new place of honor at the altar can help from the other side of the borders.
See why both myth and truth must braid for a full, complicated story requiring time (Saturn) and depth (Scorpio)?