TRIGGER WARNING: Article contains disturbing content which may be extremely upsetting to sensitive readers.
As Americans, we have a funny notion of Justice. To watch the murder trial of Derek Chauvin and see his reaction to the guilty verdict as surprise really says it all. He honestly didn’t see it coming.
Last year, two days before George Floyd was killed by him, I found a robin’s nest on the ground in my backyard with two eggs still intact. I tried to save them, but Mama did not return. I knew the eggs falling to the ground was a bad omen, but I had no idea what was about to blow up that summer.
Egg Moon Waxing
This year, I found a broken robin’s egg on the ground in front of my house, about a week before the murder trial was to close, and just a few days after the New Moon. I hoped with all of my heart that it was a sign that the system was starting to crack – that justice would be done.
The night before the verdict was determined, on April 19th, my partner had spent the night with me. I awoke in the morning to find an egg on my lawn – this time it was a chicken egg, but it was whole. Looking more closely, I discovered there was also a broken one on my porch. Someone had egged my house but only hit once – the second egg never made it to the door.
When I saw the eggs, I immediately assumed it was because of my “I Can’t Breathe” flag outside. I hesitated to think about how I was going to tell my man; how was he going to react?
This is the problem I have: I am an ally of the BLM movement. My partner, on the other hand, is an old-fashioned white dude who grew up in the ghetto of Detroit during the Civil Rights movement. He and his siblings were repeatedly attacked in school by African-American children when they were growing up in the city. His opinion of POC is not the same as my own.
We had talked about BLM before and he had indicated he was somewhat biased against African-Americans, which I was not thrilled to discover. However, on the morning of April 20th (before the guilty conviction was announced), we had a blowout when he said he wanted to buy a White Lives Matter flag for his yard.
“You’re missing the point,” I told him. He didn’t understand. I ended up telling him to leave my house that morning.
I was unwilling to compromise my beliefs that Black people do not deserve to die because cops enjoy murdering. I was unwilling to agree that they should just “stand down and listen” when a cop is attacking them. I was unwilling to accept an argument in which Breonna Taylor was anything but a victim.
He left. We did not speak for three days. I was prepared to break off our relationship so long as it meant not being with a racist, even if I loved him. My honor is my own.
I got a call from him on Friday. He apologized and told me he does not believe that anyone should be hurt based on the color of their skin. Good. I’m glad we can agree on that.
He told me he thought I would call him when I cooled off. I said I was not going to speak to him until he apologized. Perhaps that was me being too rigid; however, it was important to me.
I was glad he and I made up though, because I was about to go something extremely difficult only a few days later.
The Psychic Fair
Two days after we reconciled, I was scheduled to work my first psychic fair out in Troy, MI with a group of professional mediums. I sat next to a shaman, whose work involves spiritual healing. At my table, I had three (Deadhead) lightning bolts: one on my tapestry, one on my shirt, and one on the painting I had brought to draw attention to my booth.
The shaman, whom I would ultimately call Todd the Lightning Rod, told me a few stories about himself in between our sessions with clients. The most notable was that he had been struck by lightning three times in his life – hence, the nickname. Three bolts from him and three from me. We were meant to meet that day.
During the fair, I had begun to perform a reading on myself before I had received any clients. Two cards jumped out of the deck together: Ten of Swords and Death. I took a quick snapshot of the two cards; just then, I got a client. She wanted to talk about her dead parents.
Throughout the remainder of the day, I had clients who wanted to talk about deceased loved ones. One woman was devastated over the loss of her son, who had been tasered to death by police officers. I assumed my death omen (or at least I wanted to believe) was related to the readings I was doing for my clients.
Once the clients left, I performed one last reading for myself and got the Tower in my near future placement. Todd the Lightning Rod started telling me more about his lightning experiences, so again, I wanted to believe it was simply that.
I went home that night and watched the beginning of the full moon in Scorpio, the Egg Moon. It had been a beautiful day, with a gorgeous sunset. This, to me, was an indication that something bad was about to happen. My spidey sense was tingling; damn Tower.
“When life looks like Easy Street, there is danger at your door.”“Uncle John’s Band” – Hunter/Garcia
I had started a new job a few weeks ago, which is why I hadn’t been writing as much lately. It was supposed to be my “dream” job. I got to work with flowers, be outside, and work a flexible schedule. Sounded perfect, in theory.
Reality often stabs us in the back when we bury our heads in the sand. This time was no different. On my second day, I knew it was the wrong job (again!) but I wanted to see it through. It was temporary; surely I could make it through the end of the summer?
Maybe I could have stuck it out if I had not gone into work this past Monday. Or, if I had not been the one to make the discovery I had. Perhaps, if I had worked a different location…
The day started off okay; it was April 26th, which is the anniversary of my ex-husband leaving me. It’s been over two years since he walked out. He was the Year of the Dog in Chinese Astrology.
I got through the morning and went to the second location, on 7 Mile and Middlebelt; we had a shipment that needed to be finished putting out in the garden center outside. I arrived and the worker lady took my temperature. She said I had a fever (100.6 degrees). Fire on the Mountain. I wish I would have left.
I waited outside for a bit until my temperature cooled off (I’d previously been sitting in my car with the heat on) and was allowed entry – my temp was only 96.7 now!
Beginning to look around and see what needed to be done, I eyed a flatbed cart near the garden center that I considered using for my work. It had a small garbage bag on it, but I figured I could remove that and use the cart if I didn’t come across another one in the meantime.
Not finding any other carts available, I approached the flatbed and went to open the bag to reveal the contents.
“Jesus Christ!” I shouted, and turned my head away with a jerk. I had seen fur.
Another girl was nearby and she looked inside; it was a dead puppy, she said. It had probably starved to death. I was heartbroken.
I had to keep working but my head was not there. I was lost. The only thing keeping me together in that moment was the mourning doves who had come to sing their song for the lost baby.
My boss, whom I had never met before that day, came to the location. Needless to say, I was a wreck. When I told her I had found a dead dog, she kinda laughed and said it was horrible. She didn’t really seem to care much. Not even about how I was feeling about it.
When I tried to talk to the Wal-Mart employee about what I could do to keep anyone else from going to that cart, he said there was nothing we could do until Animal Control came. I waited that afternoon for them to arrive. They did not come. I had to work within 10 feet of a dog corpse for four hours that afternoon. It was horrifying.
I left that day knowing my tenure there was over: Double Death. No one cared about the poor puppy; in fact, he had been INSIDE the building prior to me finding him. And that’s where they left his body, on a shopping cart, for me to find. I just thank God that a child did not find him.
There is no way that I can make things right for that animal. What I could do, however, was make sure that the dog would be taken away by the proper authorities so no one else would have to go through that experience.
I called the next morning, on April 27th, when Animal Control opened and reported the situation to them. According to their records, no one had called to report the deceased creature; I was the first to make contact with their agency.
Image provided via email to Livonia Animal Control on April 28, 2021
When I followed up the next day, the officer confirmed that they recovered the body and he did likely die from starvation. He was a puppy, about six months old – King Corso/Mastiff mix. They had begun an investigation into what exactly happened.
Evidently, the body was brought into the store on Sunday and the police were called. How he ended up outside where I found him is still a mystery. I am hoping to get more information about this next week.
While I was still at work on Monday, I wondered aloud what his name was. My colleague decided to name him Biscuit after her favorite literary puppy as a child. My daughter says it is ironic that a puppy who starved to death was named after a food.
For me, I think it is ironic finding a dead dog on the anniversary of my ex-husband, who is an astrological dog, leaving me. I think it means I am finally over him and vice-versa. As you know, it’s all connected. The Universe has realigned – at least in that way, for me.
In Ancient Egyptian mythology, Ma’at was the Goddess of Justice. Linked to the God, Thoth, her laws were written by him as a way to disseminate justice and use thoughtful judgment about a person entering the afterlife. In the heart-weighing ceremony, her symbol can be viewed as the ostrich feather to which the heart is measured against.
“Joining Ma’at” is a euphemism for passing away. It is at the time of death which we shall be judged for our good deeds, and wicked ones, as well. I cannot know whether my heart will be as light as a feather when that time comes.
What I do know, is that I can only live in the here and now. Every opportunity which presents itself in our daily lives gives us the chance to work ma’at in the universe. Do we turn our heads and look the other way in the face of injustice? This is what you must ask yourself when Ma’at makes her presence known.
Karma as Justice
The American justice system often fails us. It is likely that the person who harmed that dog will get away with it, as so many people have been able to in the past. I know that for every one justice served, there are at least one hundred that go unnoticed. Yet, instead of looking at this situation (and so many other injustices) as something for us as individuals to fix, we must trust that the universal law of karma will be put forth when the timing is right.
The Democrats failed to realize that when they attempted to impeach Trump, both times. He will get his in due time; I have full faith in that. So will the puppy killer and the other people who do not look to Ma’at as their guide.
I understand it is not my job as a simple human to distribute justice. As Homer told Apu in The Simpsons, “Karma can only be portioned out by the cosmos.”
Remember, as you go throughout your days, choose Ma’at; choose peace.
Additional Reference: Egyptian Mythology, Geraldine Pinch (2002)