The Charlie Brown Christmas Dance - a little discussion on those moves ...

First of all, a Grievous Festivus to one and all!  Frankly, I really don't have much to be grievous about this year (thankfully!), but I will wish the obligatory warm wishes for a jolly time around the Festivus Pole - and here's hoping no muscles will be pulled during the Feats of Strength (or during the Airing of Grievances, either!).



Today though, I will be blogging about the above photo: the iconic dance scene in the beloved holiday special, "A Charlie Brown Christmas".

Maybe it's the joyousness in the faces, the way the Peanuts kids throw their whole selves in to the dances, but this portion of the show never fails to delight.  We can all relate to being put in a position where you have to follow rules you'd rather not have to (of the pageant director, in this instance), and certainly we've all started tapping our feet, or spontaneously started jumping and jiving when we hear a jazzy tune that pulls at our senses.  That's what happens with these little guys.  The music starts, and they just drop what they're doing, ignore the powers that be, and dive right in, mash potatoeing and frugging until Charlie Brown stops them with the honk of his thrown-down director's megaphone (why it honks remains a mystery ...).

Recently, a flash mob in New York perfectly captured the joyous irreverence of this wonderful Mic-Century TV classic moment: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8bB7obyuuY8&feature=youtu.be  Kudos to these intrepid performers, who pulled it off masterfully.  And extra special kudos to whoever is dressed as Snoopy, for giving me this year's Special Christmas Smile.

Many mysteries revolve around this groovy "Peanuts a'Go-Go":  For instance, my hubby and I pride ourselves on having mastered all the specific moves, having almost become experts on them.  Ben's favorite is Linus's, but what exactly IS he doing? Is he mashing potatoes?  Is that THE "mashed potato"?  Sally emulates the potato-mashing moves.  Then there's the Twins, doing The Pony, who we never see again in any other Peanuts special to memory.  Who are they?  Why are they there?  Where'd they go?  It's almost scary, like they're the twins from "The Shining" a'la Schultz ("Come dance with us, Charlie ..."). 

And don't get me started about the kid with the spiky hair.  Not only is he the most mysterious Peanut, but his particular moves don't seem to reference any other known dance, although the shoulder shrugs and knock knees are slightly reminiscent of the work of Bob Fosse.  And that's pretty spectacular.  Maybe he was there as a ringer, some professional Broadway dancing kid who wandered into the auditorium and just joined in for that particular afternoon?  The mind boggles.

But there's more: Violet seems to be confused by her dance.  We certainly are and have yet to identify it (but her iconoclastic moves make her my favorite).  Shermie, while he isn't busy being a shepherd, gets to Zombie on down (good for him!  Take that Lucy! Shermie breaks the shepherd mold!).  Frieda's dance also defies description.  It's almost like she's saying, "I have naturally-curly hair and that makes me happy and I gladly give all my happiness to you!  Happy, happy, happy!".

Really though, what dance moves are done here don't matter.  It's all about the joy.  That joy made Ben and I decide to have our wedding party dance it at our wedding reception.  Problem was, the DJ broke the CD as he was putting it into the player. Quick planning on my part (or as we life coaches call it, "dancing in the moment") had us all switch to "Gettin' Jiggy Wid It" at the last minute.  Which was fine.  But it didn't have that magic that Charles Schultz gave us back in 1966.

A blessed, joyous, fun-filled Christmas to one and all.  And if the hubbub of the season gets the best of you, just click on the link below and dance away ...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1LUXQWzCno

Beagles I have known and loved ...

Upon entering the veterinary clinic this morning for Ivy's annual check-up, the feeling that all was not well was palpable.  I've become more and more attuned to energy in the last year or so, and a heaviness hung in the air, as I had little Ivy step onto the scale (she's gone up one pound from last year, but she's still got her "v', meaning she tapers from her chest to her hips) and then reported the findings to the vet tech.  A woman dressed for work, except for the shower slippers she wore (due to obviously bringing in some sort of emergency), paced in front of the desk.

"Will she be okay?", she shakily asked the nurse.

"All I know is that the doctor is performing CPR right now."

"But is she gone?  What's going on?"

The tech assured her everything was being done that could be done.

Then Ivy and I were whisked off into Examination Room 2 (Whisk is not an applicable term for Ivy at the vet; it's more of a scrape.  I'm whisked off and Ivy is then dragged  in while she puts up a fight, digging her little heels into anything that has some sort of traction, which really isn't to be found on the slick linoleum floors of a pet hospital).

What had completely transpired to cause the emergency wasn't clear to me, but what was clear was that this was a sad, sad Tuesday.  The woman in the flip-flops could now be heard inside the vet's office.  And what was heard hit me right in the solar plexus.

"Oh, no.  Oh, please, please.  Anything!  Can't you do anything?"  The grief, the tears, the think emotion rippled across the hallway and into our exam room.  "oh, God.  Oh, my God ... my beautiful little baby" Her sorrow caught in her throat, her sobs hurt my heart.  Something small and lifeless was brought into the office, wrapped in a lavender sheet, and placed on a metal table.  The door completely closed while the sobbing increased.

And all I could do was cuddle my beagle.  My happy-crazy-sweet-neurotic-funny-dour little beagle who means the very world to me.

"I love you, Ivy," I trembled.  "Now don't you make me cry, you nut."  Ivy calmed down.  Not sure if it was the quiet of our exam room, my holding her, or her sensing I was the one needing comforting now.

It's Thanksgiving week and, although I've been working with gratitude every day for months now, giving thanks this week seems extra-deep, somewhat melancholy, rather moving.  Gratitude has a deeper hue this week, a stronger perfume.  And, at that moment this morning, the perfume was the slightly musky scent I encountered while burying my nose into my beagle's black,tan and white ruff.

We've always had beagles, and only beagles, save for Taffy, who was a beagle-terrier mix ("That's why she isn't too bright," my Mom used to say.  "A beagle would know better.").  And while holding and cuddling and thanking God for my little beagle girl this morning (whose exam went fine, just so you know), I quickly made a mental review of all the wonderful beagles I've had the pleasure of sharing a space with.  Not owning.  Beagles are not owned.  Way too willful for that nonsense.

 It began with Tootsie, our first beagle back in 1969.  Well, actually it really began with Snoopy, the "Peanuts" canine star who made the breed hugely popular in the 60s, and who I adored and felt an immediate kinship with after my first viewing of "A Charlie Brown Christmas".  But Tootsie was our first 3-dimensional beagle, who I named after the chewy candy, because she had a barrel of a tummy that looked like one.  Mom fed her way too much and Tootsie became a Family-Sized Tootsie roil pretty quickly.  She was smart, aloof, and wasn't much of a cuddler, but she was my first pup, so she will always have the fresh, first pup cache.

Then came the aforementioned Taffy, who we got for free in the mid-Seventies from a young couple who had to give her up because the landlord of their UIC-area apartment wouldn't allow dogs. Taffy had a wiry coat, a silly face, and little flipped ears that made her seem as though she was in a perpetual state of "Huh?".  She also had a propensity to get into things she shouldn't have, and, yes, she didn't seem too bright.  But she was a good Stan Laurel to Tootsie's Oliver Hardy.

Next, in the early 80s, came Penny.  We gave her that name because of the circular tan spot on the very top of her head, "where the angel kissed her", my Mom said.  I remember when Mom brought her home from the shelter.  She made a mad dash and flew up onto the sofa where I was reclining and reading, and proceeded to shower me with kisses.  Penny was a lemon beagle: white and tan, but mostly white.  As she got older, she was almost entirely white.  Penny died from complications from an infection following an emergency hysterectomy.  My Mom fed her cooked chicken which (there was no way to know this for sure) possibly made her sick and, sicne her immune system was compromised, that was that.  Mom never forgave herself for possibly poisoning her.  And Mom was never the same after that.

Fast forward several years and enter Mabel, our inaugural 21st century beagle, who we got from BREW (Beagle Rescue, Education and Welfare).  Mabel was found abandoned somewhere in Ohio, had had mammary tumors, was about 6 years old, and was very, very shy, damaged, and unsure.  Mabel was probably mistreated by a woman, because she never completely trusted me, no matter what I did for her.  I recall one day, sitting on the floor with her, holding her and asking her, "Why can't you love me?" through a cascade of tears.  Mabel died of canine lymphoma.  The day before she died, we took her to the forest preserver and took her photo at the far end of a bridge.  We didn't know it would become her rainbow bridge.

And now there's Ivy, who we also rescued from BREW, although now they've got the moniker of Midwest Beagle Rescue, Education and Welfare and can be found here: http://gotbeagles.org/  In some ways, the other dogs were a kind of proving ground for Ivy.  Because she's smart and sometimes aloof like Tootsie, a little goofy like Taffy (She's a puzzlement; I'm still not convinced she's a scent hound.  She'll pass up obvious stinky treats right in front of her because she gets too wound up looking for the thing), a sweet angel like Penny, and nervous like Mabel, with the same horrible separation anxiety.  Ivy is all that, plus blessed by a special kindness and gentleness that I've rarely seen in such a little one.  And she draws people to her.  She can be in a throng of beagles, and people will go straight to her, pick her up, and remark about her beauty and sweetness.  She's got this "it" factor.  In some ways, she's more of a beagle superstar than Snoopy.

Those are the beagles I've known and loved.  Ivy is the present.  I don 't know who'll be in the future.  And, right now, I'm grateful for every snuggle, every odd little snort, every awkward doggy dance (due to her adorable bowed legs).  The present with Ivy is just that: a golden, true, god-sent present.

Ivy amidst the hydrangeas.

Gloaming ...

---

gloaming [ˈgləʊmɪŋ]

n

Poetic twilight or dusk

[Old English glōmung, from glōm; related to Old Norse glāmr moon]

 

The days are shorter, darkness comes earlier, and the chill air settles into your bones.  November into December is a slow dance with a sleepy partner.  Things move through molasses.  You're urged to take your time, because if you attempt anything rashly, it will undoubtedly bop you on the head.

 

These lessons, and many more, have  wended their way into my day-to-day dealings.  It's been an interesting road as of late.  Nothing particularly hard or desperate or difficult.  But rather profound.

 

The time around Halloween or Samhain was dappled by visits through the veil, from one side of it to the other and back again.  Mom dropped in, either audibly or by sending her messengers.  I learned things about long-forgotten relatives that either I'd never known before or had forgotten. 

 

But this November into December has been quite interesting.  Quite interesting indeed.

 

A bop on the head.  Literally and figuratively.

 

A number of times in the last week or so, I've had things fly through my fingers because I've behaved rashly.  I've seen folks get into scrapes because they didn't slow down or thoughtfully proceed.  Case in point: my poor, sweet hubby got frustrated with a toilet repair, threw a wrench, which subsequently ricocheted off the toilet, cracking it at the base, bumping off the base and smacking him in the chin, creating a gaping gash which took hours to stop bleeding.  Glad it wasn't his eye or a tooth.

And now, I feel a need to retreat.  It's that gloaming of the year, the time between Halloween/Samhain and Christmas/Winter Solstice where it's really best to not start up something new, but to cast off things that no longer serve, to go deep within and really assess the importance of what you have, what you need vs. what you want.

And to add to the list of things to carefully assess: just yesterday I viewed a film entitled, "Zeitgeist - the Movie" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zeitgeist:_The_Movie - and was thwacked in the head yet again.  The portion of the film we viewed was about Christianity and it postulated that, essentially, it was all made up, a highly-detailed fable, based on age-old mythology that spans the centuries and belief systems.

Afterward, the study group I was with dove deep into conversation about the topic.  Some folks were agitated by it, others felt betrayed by organized religion.  I looked at it this way: it's the time of the year to delve deep, so there was no coincidence that I was met with it now.  It was a rough paradigm shift (like a bulldozer shoving through a brick wall), but I was game to take it on.

So today, I took a walk in the woods.  And I had a nice conversation with God.  And I asked for wisdom to separate the truth from the scam, the light from the dark.



Because in the gloaming, sometimes one can't tell the difference.

 

 

 

Patience, young grasshopper ...

Remember the vintage TV show, "Kung Fu", when the main character, played by David Carradine, was learning the ancient ways from his teacher?  Probably the most quoted phrase from the show was when the mentor would remind Carradine's character, "Patience, young grasshopper." Though the show aired about forty years ago, I can still recall how that phrase, when uttered, pulled me into a state of calm and serenity.  Yep, even as a little kid.  Even back then, I knew it was important.

These days, it's been a challenge to lock into that sense of patience.  Just writing this blog post makes me itchy to get to the point of it, keep it interesting, keep ME interested, wonder how people will take it, how it will affect them, and on and on, blah, blah, blah - ad nauseum.  I'm getting impatient just re-reading what I just wrote.  "Get ON with it, Pam!"

It is oft said that patience is a virtue.  Indeed, that hackneyed phrase is from a poem entitled, Psychomachia, or Battle/Contest of the Soul, written by Aurelius Clemens Prudentius.  Patience is one of the Seven Heavenly Virtures (Chastity, temperance, Charity, Diligence, Kindness and Humility being the others).  To practice them meant you'd arm yourself against the Seven Deadly Sins (the nasties wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy and gluttony).  Yes, I'd say the seven virtues are something to emulate.  And I'm not doing too shabbily with most of them.  But Patience is eluding me.  It's a battle I've been losing as of late.  And I hate that.

Maybe it's due to having a Smart Phone, wherein everything is at my fingertips and, after having that sort of convenience, I'm inwardly baffled that the rest of the world isn't that zippy-quick.  Maybe it's having so many irons in so many fires all at once (my voice-over career, my book stuff, my spiritual stuff, social stuff and, oh, yes, how about my wonderful hubby?).  Sometimes I'm seven different people simultaneously.  Sometimes I work to have all things line up succinctly so that I can actually sit back and relax on occasion.  But then I feel guilty about relaxing, growing impatient with myself for not being in activity.  I don't think it's undiagnosed, late-onset ADD.  I think it's overworking and overstressing about being everything to everyone - sometimes including myself.

So I become impatient with my lovely hubby when he's not spinning at 100 MPH the exact same way i am.  I become impatient with the lady at the coffeehouse you wants a quick fill-up on her coffee because she's doing a "no, after YOU" to me and, really, I CAN WAIT (because I came in here to practice patience today), but I finally snap and say, "This is silly.  Just go ahead. Geeze - It's like a Mexican stand-off!" which upsets her but, hey, I can't stand people when they waffle.  Make up your mind, take a stand, or go home.  Stop.  Wasting.  My.  Precious.  TIME!

(cleansing breath)

So, I own the fact that Patience is a hard-fought, difficult-to-grasp virtue for me.  I think the first person I need to be patient with is myself.  My daily morning meditation practice is sporadic, at best.  But I know the value of taking those 15 minutes each day, how time seems to slow down and thicken and deepen, allowing for stillness and calm.  It's like I'm David Carradine and I can sit in stillness that bolsters me for my day ahead (although I do not take part in martial arts practices due to my bad lower back and due to the fact that I'm as graceful as one of these: )

So, I forgive myself for being so gosh-darned hard on myself for NOT meditating.  Yes, I could beat up on myself, because I should "know better", being a "big deal Chopra Center meditation student, fer cryeye".  Things happen.  Life happens. Things speed up and they often blind us to the softer, slower, gentler things.

I hiked today and prayed for patience, for focus and for stillness.  The fact that I'm owning my impatience issue is huge for me.  Owning it, recognizing it's a problem, is truly my first and greatest step in allowing myself the gift of stillness, of not having to be perfect, of not having to be Everything.

So, the next time I lose my patience, I'll slow down, breathe, look in my pocket to find it.  Because I carry it with me always ... and it's never completely lost.



From angiechan.com

How to make a "Bewitched"-themed wreath for Halloween!

Just look at the awesomeness.  I did it all by myself (with the exception of Ben printing out the photos, because my printer is wonky.  Witch's honor).

 

So, how did I go about making this fantabulous wreathic ode to my favorite Mid-Century TV show?  How did I get the idea to do it?  WHY did I do it?

 

Well, I was tired of walking through Target, speciality stores, quaint antique shoppes, trolling around online,  and just not finding the perfect Halloween-Samhain wreath.  I wanted something that stood out from the rest, wasn't orange and black, and had no owls. Or bells.  I can't tell you how many Halloween wreaths I found that had black, metal bells.  What's with that?

 

Also, I wanted something witchy, something magickal to pay homage to my new-found leanings.  It had to be a perfect reflection of what I think of when I think of witchery: positive, mystical, celebratory, and maybe just a tad purple-bluelicious.

 

So, one I day, while viewing some clips of "Bewitched" on Youtube (because I do that), I came across the segment from "Serena Stops the Show".  You know the one. 

 

Where she sings, "Blow You a Kiss in the Wind", the song that Boyce and Hart then perform at the Cosmos Cotillion. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y3cFkXSgfjg

 

Ah.  The Cosmos Cotillion.  How I always wished I could attend it.  Or any of the Witches' Balls.  Or stop in for a visit at Witches' Council.  Ethereal, smoky-yet elegant, and definitely otherworldly.  And every picture I found online didn't quite match the picture I image I had in my mind's eye.  Because, since childhood, I would dream about what lay beyond the scenes of said councils and balls and cotillions.  Those were the times when I hung around with Samantha and Serena and we sipped bubbly potions, feasted on the vast array of delicacies only found in that world between worlds, cast spells, and played practical jokes with Uncle Arthur.

 

And then it came to me.  A wreath informed by those wispy, crystalline images dancing in my head for over forty years.

 

Here's what I amassed:

 

* a styrofoam wreath circle

* purple, sequined bendable ribbon

* lavender-silver glitter ribbon

* silver sequined craft paper stock

* fourteen wood circles (eight 2" ones, six 2 1/2" ones)

* purple glitter glue

* glue stick

* black tempera paint

* small craft pins

* hot glue gun

* small picture hanger

* photos printed from online search

* crystal decorative chains

 

First, I covered the styrofoam circle with the lavender-silver glitter ribbon. I needed three spools of it. I used pins to pin it all in place. 

 

Then, I took the purple bendable ribbon and made foot-long accordions of it, pulling it out and pinning it in place on the back of the wreath, so it makes a funky, witchy sunflower. 

 

Next, I pinned the silver paper stock the the back, trimming the excess so there wasn't a big, ol'  square attached to the wreath.

 

After that, I painted the outer edges of the circles black, then decorated the dried paint with the glitter glue (this doesn't show up in the photo too clearly, but adds some depth when you see it up close).

 

I sat and scoured photos online until I found a wonderful mix of all my favorite "Bewitched" characters, with a preponderance of Serena and Samantha, naturally.  I was giddy when I found one of Tabitha in mid-conjure.  And, of course, Uncle Arthur served tableside.  I had my hubby print them out (thanks, sweetie!) on photo paper in either 2" or 2 1/2" circles, which I then cut out and affixed to the wood circles with my trusty glue stick.

 

Next, the wooden photo circles were hot glued in place.  I made sure to not make the pieces look like a series of clock numbers, alternating larger and smaller circles in an unstructured way.

 

To gild the lily, I first pinned the crystal chains (used two) after weaving them around the photos, then hot glued them securely onto the wreath. It adds that perfect bit of glimmer and decadence (Actually, I told my hubby that I was assembling a "Bewitched" wreath that will look a little like a drag queen.  I think the crystal chains achieved that effect nicely).

 

Then, to seal the deal, I printed out the iconic "Bewitched" logo on photo paper, and hot glued it to the center of the sequin paper.

 

All that was left to do was nail in the small picture hanger on the back et voila!  The perfect purple-silver-whimsy-magic spell Cosmos Cotillion wreath.  My childhood dreams of hanging out with my TV family have come true!

 

Photo from Samanthashaven.blogspot.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 









Ghost Hunting 101: A Few Tips (and common sense)

Not all ghosts you encounter when ghost hunting are this adorable. (image from disneywikia.com)

Okay, this is shaping up to be quite an October for the Mystic!  I've been employed to host two, count 'em, TWO ghost hunting expeditions.  Well, only one can be truly classified as an expedition - the other is to be held in one small store that is most definitely of the haunted variety.

So, how did I get so lucky?  Well, I let folks know I'm a sensitive, that I know how to ghost hunt, and things just sort of fall into my lap.  I feel I'm letting spirit speak through me when I do this work (not necessarily allowing ghosts to speak through me; I'm talking about more or less the guidance I get from my spirit guides in relation to how to go about the ghost hunting process).

Now, there are folks who make this their full-time business; I'm more of a very serious hobbyist.  Very serious.  I don't mess around.  I don't allow any spirits to bully me or my guests.  I simply go in wishing to connect, find out if there are any messages from the other side, and, hopefully, gather some physical evidence of the hauntings.  So, although the generic term for what I do is ghost hunting, I'd rather call it realm-to-realm communication: from the physical to the ethereal.

So what do I do when I hunt?  Basically, I keep it simple.  I have at the ready a classic EMF meter (electromagnetic frequency), an audio recorder, a camera, a dandy app on my cellphone called "Ghost Radar" (the pro version), divining rods, a crystal pendulum, and, most importantly, my sixth sense. 9 times out of 10, the hands-on equipment will back-up what I initially feel just by entering the space and "tuning in" to the energies present.

A variety of ghost hunting tools from the Creepy Cincinnati website: http://creepycincinnati.com/2011/12/14/the-truth-about-ghost-hunting-tools/  They have an excellent article here about the controversies surrounding popular ghost hunting tools.  Check it out!

When you do this sort of work, protect yourself, fer cryeye!  In several other posts, I've sung the virtues of not going into a haunted space willy-nilly!  Although (hopefully!) you're bringing positive energy into the space and looking for positive spirits, there are bullies on the other side, just like here.  Some ways to arm yourself include wearing a cross, carrying rosemary in your pocket, an amethyst in your purse, a St. Michael prayer card on your person.  But what's most important is to surround yourself with your spirit guides, with white light, with God energy.  And, the very first thing that should come out of your mouth upon entering the area is: "I come in peace, respecting your space, harming none".

Now, there are some shows on cable with "extreme" ghost hunters who prod and poke the air in order to agitate spirit. They challenge them, spar with them.  I highly recommend you not try that.  It might seem like fun but, again, you never know when a bully might show itself to you.  If you feel any sort of heaviness to the space, leave it.  Works with bullies in physical form, so it fits that it works in the spirit realm as well.

I'll be posting more info on my escapades as they occur.  Any questions or comments are most welcome!  We all learn from each other through sharing this stuff.

Blessings to you, during this highly-charged time of the year.

My visit to a haunted Chicago antique store (The veil is thinning. Protect yourself!)

I'd never visited a very popular antique and salvage shop* in Chicago, although I was told by several people that it would blow my mind.  It just kept coming up for me at inopportune times, or I kept forgetting, or both.  But I've been on the hunt for a Mid-Century modern shadowbox for our tchotchkes for a long time now, and I had a free afternoon yesterday, so I thought, "Why the heck not visit this place already?" So I hopped in my car and traveled to the weest side of Chicago, parked right in front of the building, and sauntered right in.  The skies above were smiling an azure blue grin, a robin flew overhead, the sun warmed my shoulders, and all was right in my world.

The enormity of the space struck me; three labyrinthine floors and a courtyard of items dating back as far as the 1800s, with a wide mix of eras represented.  The management had thoughtfully grouped items in clever little vignettes, each one emitting a particular feel of homeyness or industry or curiosity or serenity or kitsch.  I was immediately drawn to an amazing Mid-Century buffet in honey wood, impeccably kept, with sliding glass doors and an asymmetry that really made it stand out.

But after that chance meeting with that particular piece of furniture, my energies were diverted for the next half hour or so, as if an unseen force slowly turned my head in one direction and then next..  I still was on the hunt for the aforementioned shadowbox, but I had to work very hard to keep myself focused on my task.  Because I was met head-on with a swirling mass of sad, displaced energies who yearned for acceptance, retribution, connection, or for just a way to tell someone "I'm here."

Here are some of the things I heard in my "mind's ear":

"Everything was taken away from me."

"Angry!  So angry! I hurt!"

"Please.  Help."

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"Stay out of the chapel.  This is not a real chapel."

"Keep away.  These are not your things."

As the energies changed and got darker, I immediately asked for Archangel Michael to surround me, to wrap his wings around me, to cover me with strength and clarity.  It's amazing how quickly he's summoned, how swiftly he jumps to the task (as I'm writing this, I'm thanking him again for the help and protection.  I feel you can't thank this big guy enough).

I ventured from floor to floor, taking in the furnishings and salvaged artwork, the huge collection of antique doors (leaning up against one another in rows like soldiers), the impressive array of dining and kitchen sets (arranged for events that are regularly scheduled at the space). And I was torn in two directions: the one half that took in the items as any common shopper would, and the other part, the empath, who's becoming increasingly tuned-in to otherworldly energies, who's learning (sometimes the hard way) to protect herself when she ventures out into the seemingly normal world.  I was alternately warm and cold.  Or very cold.  Or rather stuffy - and then suddenly chilled up and down my back.  A pressure, as though someone was pushing me through (or out) of the store, showed up intermittently during my entire visit.

The sunshine greeted me as I stepped out of the building - the last time I was so glad to be out of a building was when I visited Alcatraz!  I asked God to help me shake off any residual energies who might feel the need to accompany me to Starbucks.  I was nearly shaking as I got in my car, and took a minute to center myself.  I focused on my radio, on the peppy 40s jazz, on driving forward and journeying away from the locked-up, troubled (and occasionally vampiric) energies I'd just encountered.

And I decided to make good on an intuitive hit my hubby had, driving uptown to BAM (Broadway Antique Market) - and finding the MCM shadowbox of my dreams!  At a discount!  And a silk chiffon, apricot-colored scarf.  And a dinged-but-still-lovely Franciscan Starburst veggie dish (and Ben was pretty darned proud of himself when I told him that he was right to send me to BAM).  And, in case you're curious: yes, I pick up on spirits at just about any antique shop I visit.  And, yes, there were a few at BAM, but they simply flitted by, or directed me toward things I'd been seeking.  But rarely have I encountered energies as oppressive as I did at the "other" shop.

So, what did my trip to the first store teach me?  The following:

1.  It's that time of year when the veil is thinning.  Assume that you'll encounter heightened energies anywhere you roam.  IF the place you're going to visit is a catch-all for older items, or has a dubious or dark past, protect yourself before you enter the premises.  Tuck some rosemary in our pocket, an amethyst in your purse, a cross on a chain around your neck.  Do what you need to do.

2.  Pace yourself.  Stay focused on the task at hand.  Breathe.  Ask for guidance and protection from your angels and spirit guides as needed.

3.  You're not going to impress anyone by sticking it out if you're uncomfortable.  If the energy becomes too much to handle, leave.



*I did a pretty thorough search online to see if there have been any reports of hauntings at this property.  I came up empty.  Not knowing if the business would be grateful or irritated by my story, I've decided to keep the store's name anonymous.

Monday is Tarot Day: The Devil card. And how a different bit of imagery can work wonders ...

I get busy with tarot readings during the month of October.  Folks contact me for private readings, but also I book the occasional party, most often a "girls' night"-type of affair.  I love those, and I especially like to trick myself out as either my witchy self (scarves, chandelier earrings, head scarf, dark nail polish, Stevie Nicks-type skirt) or my Mid-Century self (think Joan from "Mad Men", but she's reading tarot).

In fact, I'll be adopting the early 60s finery for a party I'm reading in mid-October.  A group of girlfriends are gathering and I'm the spooky entertainment for their Halloween fete.  I told the host of the two types of looks and energies I provide, and she was quite adamant that the spookier one wouldn't quite hit right.  The more light-hearted one would be applicable for this soiree - and I'll be reading the Housewives' tarot that evening, whose artwork is taken from 50s and 60s ads, featuring bright colors and tongue-in-cheek imagery.

Because I was asked, point blank, if the cards that I'd be bringing would have any dark, disturbing imagery.  Some women, apparently, would be very scared/offended/put-off by it.

Must admit, if you're not familiar with what the cards mean, there's a huge difference between, for instance, this interpretation of the Devil card:



And THIS one:

Or this one, all dark and Maleficent:

But the meanings are the same: addiction, excessive desires, lurking in the darkness rather than the light.  Being a no-goodnick.

Hm ... I think I'll use that phrase if it's apt for a reading I do at the party.  Just to lessen the impact of the card.  If I feel I need to.

Fellow tarot readers: what are some of the cards that cause panic attacks for your querrents?  I'd love to hear your take and your thoughts.

On the upcoming Autumnal Equinox ...

So, I'm sitting here in my favorite neighborhood coffee house, sipping a pumpkin mocha.

(Let the record player needle in your head make that scratchy sound as you go, "Huh?")

During the summer, I favor an iced mocha.  When the weather gets cooler, I veer toward the typically more autumnal offerings.  Today, September 20th,I couldn't decide which direction I wanted to go.

It's that time of year again.  When our inner clocks intrinsically know that Summer is ending, but we want to hold onto it, to savor that last moment outside on the back deck, listening to the waterfall, or the marvelling at the brilliant summer flowers in the Mexican ware planters, or just being able to take a walk in our sandals.

Summer sings loudly, demanding our attention, in a rainbow hue of a melody.

Autumn whispers softly, requesting our presence, in a cidery, scratchy, smoky voice.

Autumn officially arrives on Sunday, September 22, a scant two days away.  Now is the time to thank Summer for her charm, her Charleston of wispy riches.  My Summer was absolutely jam-packed with more socializing than I've had since college, a little too much imbibing, and an exquisite balance of work busyness and sultry, quiet times.  Summer gave me the impetus to (finally) lose 6 lbs. (and counting), to keep moving and vital and vibrant.  I gratefully acknowledge Summer for her boundless gifts.



Painted Wheel of the Year from the Museum of Witchcraft, Boscastle

And I welcome Autumn's riches, which are already starting to peek out from behind a dusty, leather-bound book.  I welcome the contemplative times, the crunchy leaves under my Keens, and the Season of the Witch, the beginning of the seasonal wheel.  (I also expectantly await Epcot's Food and Wine Festival, and the Magic Kingdom's "Not So Scary Halloween Party", but that's another blog post for another day).

So what are you going to send Summer a "thank you" note for?  And what plans are you going to make for the brisk, golden, dark and dappled energy of Autumn?

I plan on gratefully taking down plenty of pumpkin mochas, served warm ...

Ascended Masters Oracle Cards - by Doreen Virtue.

As a tarot reader or enthusiast, you know how it can be.  You want to take your cards out and about, treat them to a trip to the library, let them ride the train, do an impromptu reading for yourself at the local coffee shop where they can smell the roasty aromas.  However, unless you happen to have the fortune to live in Salem, Massachusetts (or another town that's equally open-minded), your divinatory practice can elicit some "interesting" reactions.  I've had people ask if I'm a paid reader for whichever place I'm at.  I've had store owners ask me what I'm doing in hushed, suspicious tones.  I've had people take their children by the hand and leave.  I've had head shakes, stares, frightened stares, blanched-white stares.  To be fair, I have a few friendly, truly curious folk ask me about my practice.  But the usual reaction to my simply taking out a tarot deck and giving myself a quick three-card reading can be summed up by this phrase: "We don't like your kind 'round here..."

Not so with the Ascended Masters oracle cards!!

These beautifully-drawn, thoughtfully-considered cards seem to draw people to them, even folks who usually are uncertain about other divinatory decks.

The 44-card deck comes with a guidebook, which is a very good thing! My friend, who has a Masters in Religious Studies, had absolutely no idea who a number of these masters were.

"Wait.  Doreen Virtue must be making some of these names up, conjuring up false bios and attributing bogus miracles to these guys!"

Not so.  Each and every being can be verified by searching around online, or by a quick trip to the nearby metaphysical store, wherein you can learn even more about each one.

So, what are some of the positive points to this deck?  They are plenty!:

 -- Perfect deck to bring out in public!  The beautiful artwork alone will squash all detractors!

 -- People can relate to the images of deities faster than they can wrap their heads around the imagery found in tarot.  Plus, no scary devils or people falling out of towers (you'd be surprised how many people I know who won't touch a tarot deck because of the imagery).

 -- It's a veritable crash course in world belief systems!  Deities and holy people from Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, and Paganism are featured, as well as many other religions.  My Religious Studies pal, after conceding that maybe she doesn't know everything, really embraced the deck as a colorful learning tool. Yep, you could use this deck as flash cards for teaching yourself about these masters; I have!

 -- And, the most powerful benefit, as far as I'm concerned, is the tremendous, positive energy the deck has!  Even before consecrating and clearing the deck for use, it was essentially vibrating in my hands, chomping at the bit to be used, to share its strength!  Quite often, when I don't have time for a full tarot spread, I'll break out the Ascended Masters deck and pull one card.  This one card packs a tremendous punch.  I'll tell folks that if they quickly want a jolt of inspiration or guidance, I'll gladly treat them to the Ascended Masters.  Every time people leave feeling buoyed along by grace.  It's like a full ten-card spread in one convenient card - with Retsin!

The Masters are wise, beneficent and loving.  Doreen Virtue has assembled an extremely powerful deck which transcends most belief systems while simultaneously embracing them all. 

 

Bullying, and how to energetically arm yourself against it.

You hear through the grapevine that apparently you've got a reputation for something that is negative, something you do not deserve. 

It's lunchtime, and as you make your way toward a table of people to sit down, they stop talking.  Or suddenly become overtly friendly in an almost fake, solicitous way.  Or maybe they just ignore you.

You're called an offensive name, just because you are who you are.  Just because you have breath in your lungs.  No other apparent reason.  Unless, of course, you're deemed "different".

Someone purposely excludes you from a group activity that you normally are a part of.  Others who are part of the group, the group you've been associated with before, then act uncomfortably around you.  A schism has been created which you are unable to remedy.

Someone makes a snappy, rude, hurtful comment on a post you made on a social media network, berating you, just because they can; you're not face-to-face so they feel "safe" in doing so.

You're physically harmed: pushed, shoved, hit.  You've done nothing to provoke this, other than being who you are.

Remember "mean Buddy Hinton" on "The Brady Bunch"?  The one who bullied Cindy?

Any of this move you?  Resonate with you, deep in your heart, your soul?  Chances are, it does.  Because whether it's subtle or in-your-face, whether it's physical or psychological, bullying takes on many forms, many faces. It's the kid who steals your lunch money.   But it's also the co-worker who spreads lies.  Or the classmate who uses some "social engineering" to steer people away from being your friend by making being with him or her vastly more exciting.

We often equate the term "bully" with the image of the tough kid who knocks the glasses off the nerdy kid and pushes him down the stairs.  But the sad fact is, bullying is not exclusive to childhood.  It can continue throughout adulthood, and it can take on many sneaky forms.  I can testify to this fact, having encountered more "mean girls" in my middle age than I did in grade school (although the girl who bullied me throughout grades 2 through 7 was quite a piece of work, essentially employing all the examples of bullying I added at the beginning of this post, almost daily, over a five-year period).

So, after pondering bullying for most of my life, I've come to some realizations:

1.  Bullies bully because they are living in fear of something.
2.  Bullies often wield their wrath on someone they perceive as weaker in order to feel in control of their lives, lives that are lacking control in some way.
3.  Bullies may be acting from a place of self-preservation, the "reptilian"  or "fight or flight" part of the brain.  They may feel threatened by you, by something in you that others perceive as beautiful, good, or desirable.  They then wish to steal that energy you are giving off, or vanquish it.  Yes, they may be jealous of you and will do what they can to take something, anything, away from you.

These are all pretty important things to keep in mind, especially if you're on the receiving end of bullying.  Your mantra must be, from the moment of the first brush with a bully: "This is not about me.  It's about the bully and some sort of fear they are dealing with."  Dear ones, this is not your fault.  Dear ones, you are not to blame.  And dear ones (and this is the hardest thing to remember), the bully needs your love and understanding.

I know.  Trust me, I know this is absolutely impossible in many circumstances.  And it might not be the best idea to plant a kiss on the bully or give them a hug and say, "I know you're hurting inside and that's why you're acting in an unloving fashion".  It may take time.  It may stay inside your heart.  You may never have a kind exchange of words with the bully.  But perhaps you'll pray for their heart to be made whole, their spirit to feel love and not fear.

But how to arm yourself against the energy?  Ah, yes.  That is what this blog post is all about, isn't it?

Here are some practical suggestions for guarding yourself against the lower energies a bully can dish out, or, if you're already in the throes of the bully, then these can aid you in feeling stronger overall.  These are not the "be all, end all", but they're a good jumping-off point.  And, at the very least, they might be the balm your soul needs:

1.  Ground your energy: There are plenty of ways to do this: walking in nature and feeling the strength of your legs, your feet, as you connect with the earth; consuming healthful, nourishing foods and while you're doing so, giving thanks for its wholesome, comforting properties; sitting quietly with your feet planted on the ground and imagining your feet actually connecting to the earth, sprouting roots that reach deep down, letting you feel rooted and strong.

2.  Protect your energy:  Negative emotions can wreak havoc on your aura, muddying it.  Negative people can actually attach their energies to yours and weigh you down.  My favorite way to protect my energy is to sit quietly, close my eyes, and imagine a white, golden light streaming down from Heaven, surrounding my entire body.  It's made of God energy;  I'm in God's hands and I fear no evil (or fear from anyone who is full of fear), knowing I'm safe and secure.  Some other rituals you might wish to try would include invoking Archangel Michael to be by your side, protecting you from negativity (yes, he's one of the "big deal" angels, a heavy-hitter, but don't think for one moment that he doesn't have enough time/energy/power to spend with you).  When working with Michael, I almost always see a light blue light, either directly or indirectly.  I feel a rush of air, even in rooms with no open windows or vents.  In addition to the invocation, you might like to keep a St. Michael prayer card with you, or perhaps purchase a small St. Michael medal.  Structures like these can help you bolster your inner strength.

3.  Clear and clean your energy: Taking a shower while mentally stating the intention of cleansing your aura can be very powerful.  You can also use bunches of sage or sweet grass for clearing; simply light it (in a well-ventilated place, of course!  And use something fire proof to hold it in, fer cry eye!) and, while holding it, waft the smoke around your body, infusing your aura with that golden-white Universal energy, asking God to help you clear and settle.  If you're nervous about lighting things (like yourself) on fire, you can also use essential oils (lavender and basil  and rosemary are particularly nice for this purpose) to accomplish the same thing; simply apply the oils to your heart chakra, breathing in the aroma, and putting forth the intention of clearing and energizing.  Sound also works miracles in clearing energy: sound is very personal, so put on some music, or nature sounds that appeal to you, that evoke a sense of clearing, and, again, ask that their energies cleanse you.

4.  Meditate and/or pray for peace: Again, this is so very personal for each of us.  As it says in the Bible, we are to pray for our persecutors.  But we can also pray for peace, being grateful for the peace and love that IS ours, focusing on bringing more of it into our lives. We can meditate, using the word "peace" as our mantra.  Visualize a future where the person who has been bullying you is happy, at peace, and acting in a loving manner toward you, a manner which you are reciprocating.  Place an image of something or someone that says "peace" to you and meditate on the energy it gives off.  this could be a drawing of Jesus, an artistic rendering of Buddha, a photo of Gandhi.  It might be a tarot card (the ones that come to mind are the Sun, Temperance, and the High Priestess). 

5.  Perform a banishing ritual:  This works nicely during a waning moon.  Here's one that really spoke to me (but before doing so, remember to take part in this only for the greater good, with God energy at your side. You must never wish any harm toward those bullying you.): photocopy a picture of either of the following tarot cards - the 3 of Swords or the 5 of Swords (I'm giving a thumbnail of the ritual here, but essentially you're letting the image embody the sense of fear regarding the bullying you've been dealt with).  Put together a burning bowl (or use your fireplace, or an outdoor fire pit - which ever works for you), and place the image in the flames while saying something like, "I banish this fear from my life and pray for only good to come to myself and others from this life lesson. Amen.  Blessed Be."  As you watch the smoke billow up from the burning piece of paper, allow yourself to feel free from the bonds of the oppressor, the fear, the darkness.  You may wish to follow up with one of the clearing rituals I mentioned earlier.

My wish for you is to find the peace that is your birthright.  Feel free to contact me with any thoughts you might have on the topic of bullying.  We all need to stay strong for each other in this world, a place where the energies of love and fear often seem to battle.  Remember dear ones: love always wins out.

"Be the change that you wish to see in the world" - Mahatma Gandhi

My visit to Angel Kisses in St. Charles, IL

"Whoops.  Looks like I'm a little cash poor today.  I could charge this."

The man asked me, "Well, how close are you?"

I opened my change purse and showed him about 78 cents.  "Nope.  A little far to go."

"Tell you what.  Next time you stop by, you can pay me."

"But I'm rarely out this way."

"No worries, just pay when you can.  Blessings to you."

This just happened.  I know.  Who DOES this anymore?  What shopkeeper trusts you to pay when you can?  Where was I, in Mayberry?  On Walton's Mountain??

Angel Kisses is a teensy shop in St. Charles, a far-western suburb of Chicago. I travel out that way once a month to see Dr. Crackybacky (my chiropractor, who has a completely different last name for reals), so when I overheard some pals talking about the shop (one is a healer and life coach, the other a reverend and overall awesome, psychically-gifted lady), I made sure to take a little detour after my physical adjustment. Turns out, I got a bit of a spiritual adjustment inside the non-descript, humble store. Because this place is infused with spirit, literally glittering with good angel vibes.

Before I entered, I asked God to point me in the right direction during my visit.  I specifically asked for a way to really, truly, lose about 10 to 15 pounds that have been my nemesis for over two years, that laugh at me in the mirror, and taunt me anytime I glance at my closetful of vintage clothes, about a quarter of which are straining at the seams when I try them on.  "God, please help me, from this point on, please help me to really lose this weight.  If there is something magical, spirit-based, that I need to help me, please direct me!  Thanks!!  And thanks again!"

Inside the shop, the first thing that "thwacked" my interest was the little prayer card for St. Raphael.  Archangel Raphael.  The angel of healing.  Hmmmmm... perhaps there are some medical issues that need looking into that are keeping me slightly chubby?  It wasn't just a little urging to purchase the card, it was a "soul call".  I also found a small angel medal for Raphael.  I placed them on the counter, and followed the sound of the "Holy Mary Mother of God" novenas that were running on a recorded loop.  The music brought me to an altar area with a beautiful statue of Jesus in the center, arms raised in supplication.  A veritable chorus of other statues surrounded him, crosses and crucifixes decorated the back wall behind him.

As I lowered down on the kneeler, I noticed a prayer to the Holy Spirit, printed out nearby.  This I prayed, then was, again, "urged" to look up - at the most lovely statue of Mary I may have ever seen.  Her eyes seemed so very loving, so very "real".  Not just painted or glass, they had a soul or spirit inside them.  It was then I also noticed a smaller statue of Christ to the other side of the larger one.  This had a sign that read, "Please do not move this statue.  It moves on its own."

Peace and calm and an almost golden-rose sense of love emanated from this statue;  I can't explain it any better than that.  I knew at that moment, that my prayer will be answered, that the power to accomplish my goal is inside me, because God works through me.  It's all cyclical, it all moves and works for my highest good.

If you're in the area, if you're in search of quiet and peace, of spiritual connection and assurance (not to mention a nice array of Catholic medals, jewelry, gift items and, of course, angels), please pay a visit to this unassuming little shop.  For therein lies a delicate-yet-powerful energy.  And there's definitely enough to go around to all who enter.  http://stcharles-il.patch.com/listings/angel-kisses-of-st-charles

I'm off now.  Seems I have a small bill to settle...

An open letter and tarot reading for David Byrne and St. Vincent (who made my summer smile)

Dear Mr. Byrne and Ms. Clark:

This letter has taken a few days to formulate, mostly because after seeing your concert at Ravinia in Highland Park/Greater Chicagoland area/Northeastern Illinois/Chicago, on Saturday, July 6, I was thrown into a slew of summery things, like buying edging bricks for our corner berm (to keep the succulents and butterfly bushes from overtaking the lawn), planning for an upcoming East Coast trip (wherein I'll revisit vintage amusement parks which were affected by Hurricane Sandy, which I wrote about in my book on vintage amusement parks.  And yes, I'll do summery things at the parks, like riding the spooky dark rides, and the Wonder Wheel at Coney), and attempting a pedicure (messy situation).  Plus, just "life things" came up.  But now, the letter.

You probably know, or were told, that at Ravinia, people bring picnics and light citronella candles and read books and snap lots of photos and enjoy the summer air even before the concert actually begins.  I do all those things, and I also read tarot cards.  It's something I do in places other than Ravinia, but there, I decided to read for you guys.

I pulled only one card, because sometimes brevity is most powerful.  And the card that came up for you (and, by the way, the actual question I posed before pulling the card was, "What wisdom can I gift these fine musicians with for the rest of their tour?") was the Three of Wands.  If you're not tarot-savvy, here's a picture of what it looks like, along with an explanation:

The suit of Wands in the tarot speaks of inspiration, of fire and sparks of genius.  Threes in the tarot signify unity (think something like "the holy trinity").  There's a coming together of forces, energies, and ideas.  Especially ideas.  The sojourner depicted on the card is boldy facing forward, ready to continue his journey, fueled with the knowledge that his travels will be filled with inspiration, growth, community, and a ridiculous amount of creativity and play.

I pretty much jumped about in my folding lawn chair and almost spilled a perfectly pleasant glass of pinot grigio when I pulled this card.  Guys, it's an absolutely perfect image to meditate upon, to linger with, while working on the rest of your spectacular tour.  It's quite apparent that the two of you "play well together", and this card's energy can only help to build upon and bolster the incredible energies that I saw combine upon the stage Friday night, allowing for even more beautifully-realized art in the future.

You two made my summer.  The music, the brass section's choreography, and your timeless silver hair (the both of you) delighted me.  This is just my little way of saying "thank you". 

Peace and Many Blessings, Pam

P.S.  Was it just the guy next to me, or were you allowing a wonderful incense to waft through the venue?  It was heady, woodsy and "just right" for a summer evening.

So then, what IS a warlock? Maybe only Uncle Arthur knows for sure ...

A few days ago, when the Supreme Court figured out where to find their brainstems, gay marriage was recognized as constitutional and there was much rejoicing about the country, especially on facebook: lots of red and pink equality signs, and super photo tributes, including the following heartening and humorous photo.



I personally always wanted Uncle Arthur to be MY uncle ...


 

By now, you've all probably figured out a few things about me.  I'm a huge "Bewitched" fan.  I'm very gay-friendly.  And I'm witchy.  So seeing a picture of my heroes Samantha and Endora with placards espousing a cause which is dear to me really made my day.  Until I read Sammy's signage more closely.  "My uncle is a gay warlock".  Hm. The word "warlock" kinda popped right out and hit me between the eyes (near the spot of "witches' honor" actually).  Because, you see, I've been attending lots of pagan lectures and classes recently.  And apparently, this word causes a lots of confusion and consternation.

The Free Online Dictionary gives this definition:
war·lock n.A male witch, sorcerer, wizard, or demon. [Middle English warloghe, from Old English for oath-breaker : pledge; see wr-o- in Indo-European roots + -loga, liar.] 

Wowee!  Okay, I need to first get over the fact that this entry essentially is equating witch, wizard, sorcerer with demon!  But after I calm myself down and take a swig of my latte, I point out the first bit of etymology, that it's from the Middle English for oath-breaker. And the roots lie where?  In the Indo-European word from liar.

Oh, my stars!!  Do we then consider Uncle Arthur a traitor?  What about Doctor Bombay?  And Maurice?  They might have been a bit mischievous at times, but lying, stinking traitors?  I think not!

In the circles in which I run, witches are called witches, be they male or female.  The term warlock definitely has some negative connotations.  However, when you dig deeper,the more I find out about the word's history.  It is a fascinating, albeit confusing one.  If you have the time, this link will take you to a very well-documented and thorough exploration:

http://paganwiccan.about.com/gi/o.htm?zi=1/XJ&zTi=1&sdn=paganwiccan&cdn=religion&tm=91&gps=233_27_1257_709&f=00&su=p284.13.342.ip_&tt=2&bt=4&bts=50&zu=http%3A//www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A4123946

Today, most pagans cast a jaundiced eye at the term, but I'm learning that, due to its long and storied past, some choose to embrace it, almost defiantly.

What are your thoughts?  Do you wince when you hear it used?  Or do you consider it simply a personal choice?





 

 

The sad demise of the World Port at JFK Airport

 

Rather than my usual tarot post for a Monday,  I just needed to write quickly about the Worldport at John F. Kennedy Airport.  The iconic flying saucer-shaped structure is in the throes of the wrecking ball as I post this. 

It's listed in the Top 11 Endangered Historic Places.  There are throngs of folks who are huge fans of this masterpiece of Modernism.  It's been used in countless films and TV shows (most recently, the TV show "Pan-Am" filmed there).  But just as of today, a good portion had been bulldozed away.

Nope.  Sometimes the marching ahead of "progress" just blatantly sucks.

http://www.savetheworldport.org/

"Mad Men", the tarot, and Don Draper's dark night of the soul

(Beware: spoilers ahead, as well as some musings on Don Draper's "dark night of the soul".  If you're not a "Maddict", you'll still glean something from this post, but if you worship at the altar of Sterling, Cooper and Partners, you'll feel much more at home.)

Take a look at this card:

When folks pull the 10 of Swords in a tarot reading, there's some heaviness afoot  What's really interesting is that most times, when a querrant sees it in a past or present position, they intrinsically know why it's there and how to apply it to their current situation.  If it's in a future position, I carefully read surrounding cards and let them know that a dark period may be near, but to fear not, because a new dawn is just above the horizon.

That's what the card tells us: that we have reached our nadir, but that there will be a new light, a new hope.  We have to hit the low points, the rock bottom, the nadir, before we can move onward.  Pain, devastation, desolation will be followed by calm, peace and resurgent light; it's a law of the Universe.

The reason I'm reflecting upon this card today is in response to an image that is haunting me from last night's episode of "Mad Men": Don Draper, curled up on his office sofa, in a fetal position.  Earlier in the episode, Don is curled in a near-fetal position on his daughter's empty bed. If you haven't been following along with the show, here's my thumbnail: Don Draper can't go any lower.  SPOILERS: He's cheated on his adoring wife, alienated most of his co-workers and partners, lied to said co-workers and partners, marred his daughter for life after she caught him having sex with his neighbor, and irreparably damaged his relationship with his protege, Peggy Olsen.  Once considered an enigma, a cool, distant creative genius responsible for crafting brilliant advertising and instilling in many a simultaneous sense of awe, admiration, fear, and indisputable sexual desire, Don is now referred to as "a monster" by the one person (Peggy) who saw the warmth hidden at the center of his soul, even amidst the outer slick facade.



Season 6's poster seemingly depicts two Dons, and the season was all about his slow, slimy descent into darkness and alienation where both sides of his personality wrestled.  Which one will make it out alive by this Sunday's season finale?  Right now, a shadow of his former self exists, curled up on a tiny tweed sofa.  The bravado, the cool, the suave demeanor: all gone.  In their place: a man who might not even know himself if he met him in the revolving door, broken, scared, and stripped naked of his dignity and self-worth.

In my daydreams today, I had Don Draper sit across from me at the table here in the coffeehouse and I read his cards, much like his dear friend Anna Draper used to*.  And I confirmed, as he drew the 10 of Swords, that every nadir has an opposing apex.  And, like the images of him on the poster, he's been launched, full-throttle, into his own "Fool's Journey" throughout the entire series, facing glorious highs and inky-black lows.  But, like the major arcana's Fool, the power lies within.   The Fool is Number 0 in the tarot, the beginning and end, alpha and omega.  it's where the journey ends, as well as where it begins. And I lean in to Don and I whisper, "The power to heal and discover and fly lies within and is tied to the belief that you need to let go and trust in order to soar."  And Don thanks me, and slowly stands up to leave, stops near the door, turns back, and says "Thank you.  I'm ready for the journey.  I have no choice but to choose to do so"




*Over a year ago, I wrote another "Mad Men"-inspired blog post.  If you're curious, here's the link:

http://mid-centurymystic.blogspot.com/2012/03/monday-is-tarot-day-and-yesterday-don.html

Monday is Tarot Day: A quick, One-Card Draw for a Pick-Me-Up.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with today whatsoever.  I'm just low energy, for no apparent reason.  I could say that there's a high pressure front and weather is changing and I ate too much cake yesterday and I banged my knee at the gym today.  But that would only be guessing, and it would actually smack of trying to push it in order to make sense out of my funk.

Yes, I'm in a funk.  Again, no apparent reason.  Iv'e been very grateful lately about many, many things, so that's not it.  My hair is cute today.  I like the sample of perfume I'm wearing; didn't know I'd be such a fan of the tonka bean.  But still ... I'm poopy.

Let's do a real-time, one-card draw and see what comes up.  What lesson do I need to know in order to shake me out of this mood?

(Man, even shuffling is a chore)

I drew the Ace of Pentacles. Hm.  I drew this when I became an LLC.  New beginnings in the material realm.  Let me ponder this for a bit ...

 

New beginnings, fresh starts, possible heaps of money coming my way.

Hm ...

I think I feel suddenly much lighter!  The Hand of God is waiting to gift me with something amazing!  I can handle that!  Pretty darned good card for getting one out of one's funk.

(jumping out of chair and skipping downstairs and out of the house)

Excellent article on why NOT to become a pagan.

http://paganwiccan.about.com/od/PaganCommunity/tp/Ten-Reasons-Not-To-Become-Pagan.htm

http://thewiccalife.blogspot.com/2010/11/wheel-of-year-turns-on-and-on.html

If you're pagan-curious,  a craft "dabbler", or even a long-time practitioner, you'll find some great info and not just a bit of humor in this very well-researched and construct article on paganism.

We all have different paths in life.  And many of us have spiritual leanings which might clash with other people's long-held belief systems.  Or, wait, after some careful study, they actually might run parallel or even (gasp!) compliment them!

Yes, I'm being purposely obtuse here.  Because there are those who have difficulty with my particular spirituality.  But I know that God is in my heart, always.  And that he/she/Universe knows I am always coming from love, except when fear takes over and then I pray and meditate upon love and giving and gratitude.  And that's it.  I believe that all good comes from the same place: love.  And that everything else is fear.  And you don't want to go where fear resides.

Yep.  That pretty much sums it up.

And, on the way, Jesus is by your side, as are the good angels and prophets.  And Universe provides a beautiful world which we are caretakers of.  And the energies of that world are all God.  And God is good.

Yep.  Being obtuse again.  And perfectly, beautifully clear.

And magic does exist, in gratitude and giving and meditation and good intention.

Let's talk about it.  http://paganwiccan.about.com/gi/o.htm?zi=1/XJ&zTi=1&sdn=paganwiccan&cdn=religion&tm=132&gps=368_45_1257_709&f=10&su=p284.13.342.ip_&tt=12&bt=1&bts=6&zu=http%3A//www.witches-tutorial.com/paths/cw.html

Monday is Tarot Day: Exploring Hawk Medicine and Clear Vision

Folks, my world has opened up, the baby angels are clapping, the doggies are dancing and all is right with the world: I got contacts.  If I so choose, I don't have to deal with brown, plastic lines around my line of vision anymore.  These tiny (wiggly, slimy, hard-to-work-with-so-far, easy-to-turn-inside-out,  cold) blue plastic discs have given me my face back.  For that, I am truly grateful to the inventor of the disposable contact lens.

Oh yeah, and my vision is better.  And, yes, I keep singing this song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkwJ-g0iJ6w  (yes, this version.  I know the original is by Jimmy Cliff, but this is the version from my childhood.)

Anywho, I was working on a corresponding tarot card for my clear vision experience (because the physical clarity is truly tying in to my mental and spiritual clarity, as I knew it would), and really, the closest I came was the 3 of Wands.  The journeyman on the card, is clearly seeing the next steps he needs to take.  He's ready, he's wiser, he knows what he needs to do to move forward.  But although this image does work for me, I wanted to share something more with you.

And then I remembered that just last week, I kept encountering hawks. Red-tailed hawks in the trees, swooping by me as I walked in our neighborhood, and on-watch at the arboretum where I go for my spiritually-enlivening hikes at least twice a week.

Before I began my tarot study, I was first introduced to the world of divinatory cards decks by the splendid Animal Medicine Cards by David Carson (http://www.medicinecards.com/).  In fact, I still turn to them when certain animals wander into my path from seemingly nowhere.  In Native American traditions, all animals have medicine (that is, they provide magic and wisdom and lessons).

Hawk medicine is about vision, having the clarity to see past the obscurity of a situation and get to the powerful center of it.  I'm now realizing my hawk visitors were giving me messages about needing to see more clearly, on a few different levels.

As far as my physical vision, yes, my prescription had changed (I blush to admit it's been 4 years since I got new glasses), and I was gobsmacked at how much clearer things are with my new "numbers".  Mentally I'm able to just take on more each day, without getting overwhelmed.  And spiritually, I've been getting clear about what I'm most grateful for by doing the follow-up book to "The Secret" entitled "The Magic".  It gives tangible ways to practice your gratitude and it's given my soul a clearer focus and love has just been pouring in and I'm humbled by what God has given me, and continues to give me, blessed be.

I encourage you to check out the Animal Medicine cards for yourself, especially if you're "tarot curious", because I found them to be a gentle introduction into the art of cartomancy at the time when my soul was ready.  

Our Visit to the Cascade Drive-In: a Retro-Fun Evening Under the Stars in West Suburban Chicago

The vintage speakers at the Cascade

http://www.cascadedrivein.com/

A true, actual, "for real" conversation I had with a pal out in L.A.:

"You have an actual drive-in near you?  I'd love to go to one, but there are none out where we live."

"Yep.  The Cascade in West Chicago, out west on North Ave.  We go all the time!  They are the real deal: vintage concession stand, olde-fashionedy speakers for your car, a little grill set up near the screen for your to have a weenie roast.  Oh - and they play those retro-cool 'Let's all go to the lobby' commercials between flicks.  The spirit of place at the Cascade is undeniably 50s, but with modern conveniences."

"Jealous.  Except the weenie roast part.  I'm vegan"

And this conversation wasn't the only one of its kind (minus the vegan part).  When I mention to folks out of the area that we have a great drive-in theatre only 30 minutes from our house, I get oohs, ahs, "dang"s and "really?  Thought they were all gone!"s a'plenty.  Most people just consider them a fond memory from their teen-age years, or the backdrop for a scene from the film version of "Grease" (Danny Zuko's immortal words: "Stranded at a drive-in/Branded a fool").

So here's the skinny: the Cascade Drive-In is one of the few remaining outdoor theatres in the U.S.  While I was traveling about for my book about another fading icon, the vintage amusement park (www.cottoncandyroadtrip.com), I would keep an eye out for drive-ins because, I kept telling my hubby, "What a great way to finish off a day's trip to an old amusement park: visit an old drive-in!".  But alas, I found very few on our journeys.  What I did find were abandoned ones, some with only fading, battered screens left, or shells of what were once super-cool neon signage, now advertsing an empty field.

That's why the Cascade deserves your patronage and, well, your awe.  In this day of multiplexes and IMAXes, it's heartening to find a wonderful, well-preserved and maintained gem like this.  The plusses of visiting are numerous: it's family-friendly, pets are allowed (we love bringing our little beagle, Ivy, who pays little attention to the sounds from the speakers but DOES give undue attention to our popcorn), there's newly-installed digital projection, and you get two movies for the price of one!  Besides all that, the concession stand carries just about anything you could possibly want or need for your retro-fun evening, including the usual suspects (popcorn, candy, soda), and the not-so-usual ones (hand-made shakes, burgers, and malt cups you dig into with wooden spoons).  And if bugs are bugging you, they sell mosquito repellent.  The vintagey kind you burn.  Like in this video (which they show before the show): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9iL1aCWLuNk

The following are some snaps from our latest visit, just about a week ago.  Don't despair if it looks quiet; we got there early, very early, so we could walk Ivy around, I could buy their new snazzy t-shirt, and I we could enjoy the night air before the onslaught of cars drove in.  This was a smart move on our part; it was opening weekend for "Iron Man 3" and, eventhough it was a Sunday, the Cascade was jam-packed with film-goers, all enjoying a night under the stars.



The screen, awaiting a visit from Tony Stark

The groovy concession stand. This is just one side; it wraps around.

Yes, you're seeing that correctly. 
An actual vintage baby bottle warmer exists inside
the concession stand.  Love that!

Kooky, nifty poster inside
the concession stand.

Their new, retro-fab t-shirt!  Get 'em while they're hot! Only 10 bucks!



The Hubby and the Ivy