Tarot cards and Oracle cards: they're two of a kind!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQTqKcojrVY



Meet Cathy, who's lived most everywhere,
From Zanzibar to Berkeley Square*
But Patty's only seen the sights
A girl can see from Brooklyn Heights -
What a crazy pair!

But they're cousins,
Identical cousins all the way.
One pair of matching bookends,
Different as night and day.

Where Cathy adores a minuet,
The Ballets Russe, and crepe suzette,
Our Patty loves to rock and roll,
A hot dog makes her lose control -
What a wild duet!

Still, they're cousins,
Identical cousins and you'll find,
They laugh alike, they walk alike,
At times they even talk alike -

You can lose your mind,
When cousins are two of a kind.

Since my mind is firmly set on 60s Universal Time, no matter the time zone, my references are quite often older than I am. Or at least older than a Twist 'n Turn Barbie (there. There's another 6UT reference for ya). So when I was met with a particular situation this past weekend while doing a tarot reading event, my mind went to Patty Duke,

Educate yourself if you need to, oh sweet baby milennials, but Patty Duke, child star extraordinaire, had her own TV show wherein she portrayed Cathy and Patty, a pair of identical cousins who are as different as a peanut butter cup and a Stoli. The theme song is the ultimate Mid-Mod earworm and Ms. Duke's performance was delightful. 

Oh, but the particular situation. Ah, yes ...

At this event, a querent admitted she had never had a tarot reading before, but "had a friend read her oracle cards for me, so I guess that's the same thing???", her voice roving upwards in a mix of confusion, innocence, and embarrassment. Since I was only giving mini readings, I really didn't have the time to go into a diatribe about the differences and similarities of the two divinatory tools. I will do so here:

THEY ARE NOT THE SAME. NOPE. JUST STOP THAT!

Tarot cards are oracle cards, but oracle cards are NOT tarot cards. They're divination tools that are easy-to-use, portable, and engaging - and they're in card form. But like Patty and Cathy, that's where the similarities end.

Tarot cards: The thumbnail sketch of their origins is sketchy, but may very well date back to  14th century Italy, where the mystical teachings were hunted down by the church, so practitioners of the occult fashioned a deck of cards that contained all the mysteries. No one would suspect such magick inside a simple deck of playing cards, right? The tarot has 78 cards, comprised of 22 major arcana (the major life lessons, rich with archetypal imagery),  and 56 minor arcana cards (I often refer to these as the day-to-day lessons). 

Now, your tarot cards can come in all sorts of themes, from Baroque cats (Yes, dressed in nifty Baroque ensembles, velvety and ornate) to Bowie (also dressed in Baroque ensembles, velvety and ornate, but more glittery). But they should, IMO, follow the classic Rider-Waite-Smith format and archetypal imagery. I utilize the imagery heavily when I read, and also use it in my coaching (when requested). Yes, there's the Thoth tarot and a couple other decks that veer away from RWS. Those actually give me a headache. No, I mean an actual headache. The imagery doesn't resonate with me, doesn't connect with my third eye, and confuses my spirit guides to no end. Follow the imagery that contains the wisdom of the universe. Follow the keys to self discovery the tarot is so richly prepared to yield. (yep, that sounds so New Agey, but it's fitting so I'm sticking to it). Follow that.

That's it, in a nutshell. That's tarot.

Oracle cards: That would be all the other decks that aren't tarot. The tip off: a tarot deck should have 78 cards (although some have a few more when the deck creator decides to add some additional cards. The Psychic Tarot, for instance, adds chakra cards. But otherwise, they're solidly tarot). Oracle cards might have 36 cards. 50 cards. 44 cards. Whatever number of cards. But they don't follow the major arcana/minor arcana/78 card format of the true tarot. 

(Important Note: When I see a listing on Amazon for a tarot deck and it doesn't fall in line with that criteria, I want to get in my car, drive to wherever the deck was made, get out of my car, walk up to the deck creator's door, knock on the door, the door opens by the person who created the deck. I then slap them for calling the deck a tarot deck, get back in my car, and drive home, whistling a happy, contented tune).

So, yes, oracle decks are lovely and can be very helpful in giving you insight into questions, situations in life, rough spots to overcome, much like the tarot does, However, you won't find the same imagery that contains all the wisdom of the universe as it is contained in a tarot deck. In an oracle deck, depending upon the theme, you may glean wisdom from the angels, dogs, flowers - the list goes on ad infinitum. I have a few favorites, including my tried-and-true Medicine Cards, the powerful Ascended Masters Oracle Cards, and Crystals: The Stone Deck, which is exquisitely beautiful and also very informative if you're looking to learn more about crystals and their energies. Are these decks magickal, brimming with awesome vibrations, and wonderful tools for self transformation? Absolutely. Are they tarot? Nope.

What have we learned here? That dancing the minuet can work for some folk. And so can hot dogs and rock 'n roll. But don't cross the streams. Because they're similar-yet-VERY different. Embrace the differences,  learn and grow from both modalities, but don't assume they're the same. Otherwise, Patty Duke ends up with one humdinger of a migraine, not knowing who she is. And we don't want that.

The Muse

Isn't she fabulous? I mean, she's really stunning. And, the way she's posed, she's got this authority, this verve, this DIRECTION - things one would not necessarily find in an 11 1/2" vinyl and plastic anything.

I'm smitten and I must find this doll. I used to collect Barbies seriously and I'm fretfully serious when I say "seriously". At one point, my collection easily numbered over 200 little plasticky souls. But then the economy changes, or you run out of space, or you collect tarot decks instead (or all of the above). And you grow out of the need to surround yourself with these little poppets. And that's okay.

Full disclosure: as of just recently, like, in the past two weeks, my writing muse has tap tapped on the door and I let her in again. I've written two books, tons of blog and Facebook posts, tons of notes as a director, short stories, portions of plays - I just WRITE, okay?! But my muse has been dormant for the last year or so due to a raft of setbacks. My laptop sat and cried. I cried. Everyone cried. And then I wiped the tears away, went to Asheville, NC for a week, and somehow, some way, I started writing again. 

Nothing earth-shaking. Nothing that's yanking on my sleeve like an antsy child, "Hey. HEY! This is your new book idea right HERE!! Write it. WRITE IT!!!". No, nothing like that. Just, well, my facility for it returned. The Outer Critic Inside My Head quieted down (no, it will never entirely shut up, but do they ever? Can they?), and writing started to become, dare I say it, enjoyable again.

But The Muse. The Muse is back then, right? Must be. Don't know where she went. I feel things just got too dark here and she gallivanted away to inspire and noodge other folk. Who wants to stick around when depression and tears run the show? She obviously went to where she could breathe again, smile again, "flair" again.

She's back now. And I must personify her, find something or someone to represent her. Make her solid in some way. I can't lose her again so I need a touchstone of some sort. An image, Something tangible.

Now, I'm not into the Greek or Roman pantheons, so borrowing from them won't jibe with me. But the pantheon I DO prescribe to is that of the Groovy. So I did a Google search for "60s goddess". Images of Twiggy and Grace Slick showed up in the feed. As did Andy Warhol "Factory" regular Edie Sedgwick (who had quite a tragic ending, so that wouldn't fly for a Muse for me, no sir). But then up popped Mod Redux Barbie, pictured above. She was the right amount of Warhol's brilliance, Mondrian's structure, and the warmth of a cherished plaything (the plaything you told all your secrets to, who conspired in magnificence with you when you were seven years old and all was possible). And it just clicked.

Why her? Why a groovy goddess? What's all this then?

As I said, look at her presence, her command, the way the creatives at Mattel posed her (thanks, creatives at Mattel!). This presence just popped and resonated with me. I usually veer toward the cast of "Bewitched" for my personal pantheon, but this is close enough for fruggin'. Dig the outfit, like a winsome bumblebee. Bees create. Bees continue the species, foster life. There's a sort of power here, a sense of "anything is possible". And her hair, well, no one says a Muse can't have YOUR hairstyle.

So, Mod Redux seems to fit the bill. She needs a name, however, so I'll call her Minxy. And what, pray, does "minx" mean? From the Free Dictionary: A girl or young woman who is considered to be impudent or very flirtatious. 2. Obsolete A promiscuous woman. [Probably from obsolete mynx, playful little dog, perhaps from alteration of obsolete Dutch minneken, darling; see minikin.] minx′ish adj.

There are worse ways to define a muse. And if this freewheeling mynx, chockfull of impudence, sass, and not just a little bit of canine playfulness will work for me, then my Muse she shall be.

(Note: in order to purchase a 3-dimensional version of said Muse, I need to cough up, depending on where I look, either $22 or $999.  Apparently, so are the ways of the mynx ...)

Practical Witch Work. It's happening NOW.

Must be the new moon. Has to be. I'm literally floating on a creative wave, with a need to share more of my work with the world. And it's the Aquarian sun, MY sun sign, giving me that extra surge of Water Bearer energy. We Aquas are hard-wired with a need to change the world, and I mean to one spell, crystal, and sage bundle at a time.

So here's my new tab, a new page for you to explore: https://mid-centurymystic.blogspot.com/p/practical-witch-work.html

I've recently had more requests for personalized services of the witchy kind. I approach this work with heart, clarity gifted by connection with Spirit, and a combined energy of, well, look at the two women above. Yep, "Bewitched"contains my personal mid-mod pantheon of strong women, strong witches. So I approach my work with a combination of Samantha's nurturing and smarts and Endora's "take no prisoners and get it DONE" conviction.

I might also break into a frug like Serena ...

But that's another story for a different day.

All whimsy aside, I take my craft very seriously. Please allow me to help clear, clean, recharge, and bless.

Planetary things. They intrigue me.

Planetary things. They intrigue me.

This past year has been a flamethrower in many, many ways. Lots of structures, mostly nonsolid, mostly personal, have simply disintegrated, have blown apart, have washed away. Ways of being, thought forms I grew comfortable with, gone. I could go on and on, and you'd yawn - but likely you'd commiserate. Because so many of us have met with the embodiment of the Tower card in tarot, it's mind-boggling. So I won't go into all the details. But I will go into what it's brought up for me going forward.

I've spent a lot of time lost in Podcast Land, and mostly it's been witchcentric offerings, because I'm fashioning my own podcast for next year. But I've also gone down the rabbit hole of astrological podcasts. I studied astrology eons ago, and I have a rudimentary understanding of the art. Well, no, It's more than rudimentary, but it's nowhere near as second nature for me as tarot. Tarot and I became fast friends rather quickly, and the study of tarot is always rewarding, fascinating, soul tickling. I get it. But astrology seems like advanced calculus in comparison. And, while I was good at math, I didn't necessarily enjoy it.

But then the last year or so happened. And I began to become curious about the whys and wherefores, the possible reasons for so much calamity, sadness, and endings. Enter astrology. Enter the excellent Astrology Podcast, where three intrepid practitioners delve into the stars in a way I never before imagined. These people are brilliant. At first, I felt way in over my head, but as the months have spooled out, I've slowly begun to see this giant 1,000-piece puzzle coalesce. I'm starting to make sense of it all. I'm beginning to get my bearings. And it fascinates me.

One of my goals in 2020 is to get certified as an astrologer through ISAR, but, thus far, my emails to various folks connected with the certification program have gone unanswered, This does not thwart me, however. Because the past year or so has made me tenacious, like a Jack Russell terrier going after a squirrel. So I'll keep asking the questions until I have a clear plan of attack for going forward with certification.  

I'm a certified tarot reader, have been for years. And tarot really relies much more on intuition than astrology. Astrology relies on math. Lots and lots of math. But also one needs to learn what the houses mean, the rulers of the houses, what each planet stands for and on and on and on. Tarot is open to much interpretation. Astrology has much more set parameters. And if you use this tool, you'd darned well better really know your onions. You need to know it well before you start hanging out a shingle. I want to work with both of these keys to the occult, to incorporate them meaningfully in my coaching, in my life, to the benefit of all.

So wish me luck. Yes, from my studies thus far I hear that a lot of the energies we're going through may come to a head in early January of 2020. I hope it's a soft landing for us all. And if  navigating the stars will act as a comfy down pillow to soften it all, then by all means, it's time to get out my zodiacal slide rule.

Hey! It's Mercury Retrograde! Hey! Chill out, you!

Hello, friends! It's been a couple of months since I last blogged - because I've been bogged down. Been thrown into the busyness of rehearsals for a fundraiser I'm directing and performing in this holiday season. It's a treat and a half, having a great time, but whoosh! Busy not only directing, but accumulating sheet music, recordings, commissioning orchestrations, getting all these materials to the cast, writing the script, editing the script I didn't write, plus making sure items the costumer has pulled actually fit the cast, making sure rehearsal spaces have been secured, scheduling the rehearsals, making sure every disparate piece of the equation of the show is slowly coming together. Plus being a cheerleader for the process; that's the easy part though, because it's a labor of love I'm creating in honor of a dear friend who passed in June who was instrumental in this little show happening in the first place.

Let's add to that the sprained ankle. My hubby and I went on an architecture tour thingy of an old church in a nifty, gentrifying area of Chicago we'd never explored before. I walked up to the altar to take a snap, then turned and saw something else I wanted to take a snap of - forgetting about the two little steps I took initially. As my Mom would say, "You sprained it but GOOD." And I did. It turned every color found in an autumnal garden. After just over two weeks, I'm finally being able to consider taking normal steps down a staircase, rather than doing this oddball sideways descent, somehow reminiscent of an elderly, nearsighted crab.

Ah, the joys of being sidelined. 

No, really. The Joys of Being Sidelined.

Being super busy with the musical revue has taught me a couple things. One, always lead with love. I knew this from past directorial endeavors, but it's really hitting this time. After my friend Steve passed, my co-conspirator for this production, I had more than a passing thought of, "Well, the show is done. How can I do this without him?" But the answer is of course, the show must go on. There is no other choice. So, while the process can be bittersweet at times, anxiety-inducing at others, what keeps me anchored is knowing that Steve still has a hand in this process, that the finished product will be a delightful romp - and a heartfelt ode.

It's also taught me that, while directing and performing are in my heart, work in coaching, tarot, astrology, and the metaphysical run parallel in my soul. By not being able to attend certain spirit-focused lectures and group activities, I realized just how important this work is for me. My goal for next year is to build and grow the coaching, blend it with tarot, and become a certified astrologer, combining all three disciplines to help people explore and deepen the meaning in their lives.

And the sprained ankle? Having to slow down to a hobble has really made me take time to consider the things above more deeply. If it wasn't for the imposed slowdown, I wouldn't have had the time to read, meditate, listen to enlightening podcasts, and start planning my next moves as far as career and spirit work. 

Oh yeah, Mercury retrograde. This one is in Scorpio. It's asking us to delve deeply, to psychically sink back and take stock of the last three weeks or so and glean the lessons from that time period. It's asking us to slow down and consider the gifts we've been given. Shift your pace, take your foot off the gas, don't run quickly to the next "pretty shiny" - you're likely to fall off a church. It's an astrological sideline which can be embraced, not feared.

Go to your favorite coffee house. Order a comforting beverage. Sit down, do some writing. And reflect on how, as of late,  life has actually given you some mighty fine lemons for your lemonade.

It's Virgo season. How will you Crane?

If you walked into my office, you wouldn't believe it's mine.

Most people know me as a pretty exacting personality. I used to be worse, but things change you after awhile. So I'm not as exacting. And when I say "exacting" I mean Type A. Or controlling. Or persnickety. But, like I said, things change you. I've mellowed out this part of me. Having lost a couple best friends in the last year, having health scares in the same year, having to deal with a senior dog who's forgotten her toileting manners - these things add up and you start to realize that sometimes finetoothcombing can cause more constriction than freedom, more pain trying to make things perfect rather than just allowing things to "be" and to breathe. You shift.

So it's interesting to see my office these days. The place I allow no one to enter. Truly. If someone needs something from my office, I jump up and say, "That's cool - I'll get it". Then run up the stairs to the office, open the door (it's always closed), enter and CLOSE THE DOOR BEHIND ME, then get said item, and go through the open door-close door process again. This all happens quickly, like I'm trying to keep some sort of horrible, squalid force lurking inside the room from lurching forth and terrorizing the countryside.

Truth: my office is quickly becoming "the space under the stairs". And I'm not talking about Harry Potter's bedroom.

Friends, it's Virgo season. And not only is it Virgo season, it's Super Strength Virgo Season*, with a stellium of planets nestled within its 30 degree span in the astrological wheel. Lots of Virgo energy is being activated, especially this week. Expect things to get cleaned out - even if you weren't necessarily planning to sweep them out. Also, Virgo triggers obsessive-compulsive activity. So, yeah, you'll be obsessing, you'll be cleaning, you'll be obsessing about cleaning, you'll be obsessing about the things being cleared out right under your nose. You will "Niles Crane" your chair before sitting. You'll "Niles Crane" your world - and watch Niles Cranian energy hurry in with a napkin before you know what's hit you.



So breathe with this. Know this energy is out there. And use it to your benefit. Don't allow it to rule you.

Back to my office. What is inside the depths, the dark door, the unseen crypt of shadows and tears, you may ask? Actually, what's in there is a lot of "almosts" and "shoulds". The poster I almost framed. The vintage items I should sell. The cards I almost sent. The creative projects I should really start.And they piled up or became lost because of life, because of set backs. But they still loom and they demand action. And none of these things will be embraced with creativity or passion, unless I "Crane Away". Unless I take my imaginary napkin and decide, for once and for all, which of the piles of almosts and shoulds are going to be "wills" and "cans" - and weed out those that no longer serve. Because that's working with Virgoian energy.

So, gentle friends, pull out the chair and give it a good cleaning. Not because you should, but because you will.

The New Moon in Leo - and what the Emperor might say about it.

With a majestic staff in hand, the Emperor gazes out with a relaxed strength and focus. Two children are seen in the background, and their stance gives us a sense that they're exploring and happy.

Now, what the heck does this have to do with the upcoming New Moon in Leo? And Mercury finally getting out of its nasty retrograde (which caused much disruption and gnashing of teeth)?

Well, plenty.

To begin, the Emperor is ruled by Aries, which is a Fire sign - so the card's element is Fire. Leo is also a Fire sign. With Mercury finally going direct and the New Moon in Leo, we are entering a period of super turbo-charged energy. You will feel invincible! You will want to clean the house, write the novel, move to the new home, start a new career, run for office, shift your paradigm; in essence you will want to BURN THE OLD DOWN.

Yippee!  Yahoo! Screaming yellow ZONKERS you are unstoppable, you little Heat Miser of activity and motion!! Yessiree! You are taking on the world like the entire familial unit of The Incredibles!!! With or without capes!

But guess what? The Emperor, in the same way he watches over the children pictured in this version of the Emperor card from The Witches tarot by Ellen Dugan, urges us to chilleth thyself out. Sure, we may feel wound up and ready to zip into action, and we should, but it's smart to plan, to strategize, to definitely aim for greatness, but to also watch ourselves so that our enthusiasm, our inner spark, doesn't burn us out before we get to ignite our hopes and desires. A more structured approach to our creative urges will help them play out in a more step-by-step way, rather than leaving us to flail about in our exuberance.

So trust the Emperor energy. A controlled fire will serve you best at this time.

New Moon in Leo: 7/31/19 at 10:12 PM Central time.

"Bell, Book, and Candle" on Mid-Mod Magic Monday!

A mid mod goddess

Greetings, fellow mystics, witches, and generally magical peoples. Today is a bit of a fresh beginning for my little blog - and a new focus for The Mid-Century Mystic, most particularly on Facebook (and sometimes Instagram). And it's been a long time coming.

See, before I came out of the broom closet, in the infancy days of The Mid-Century Mystic, I met with a great social media creatrix who I enlisted to help me put together a structured media campaign for all my disparate avenues of employ (voice-over, MCM, writing, etc.). And lots of it fell to the wayside (I hate Twitter and shall never Tweet and closed my account and basically spat at the screen as I closed it - PuhTOY!  good riddance to time-wastey rubbish). The one thing that she said when working with me was, "Why are you afraid of the Mystic webpage? It seems to be the one that lights you up the most?" Welp, I was afraid because, at the time, I wasn't confident with my magic and, more succinctly, I was afraid of what others would think. But as times are changing, and more magickal practices are being embraced rather than feared, I feel it's time, FINALLY, to bring back the focus to my social media plan with more blogging, more posts with purpose, heck - MORE MAGIC.

Yumminess on a plate. With bongos.

And so today, I begin bringing you more engaging content and (although I've avoided it for a myriad of reasons) specific types of posts for specific days. Blah, blah, blah - enough of the warm-up! Welcome to ...

#MidModMagicMonday !!!

And what better way to kick it off that with a little bit of trivia concerning "Bell, Book, and Candle", the quintessential Mid Mod witchy gem of a film from 1958, starring Kim Novak (yummy in each and every slick ensemble,every glint of her eyes, every silky move of her body), James Stewart (just yummy because James Stewart) and one of my favorite Mid-century actors, Jack Lemmon (playing bongos, stealing every scene, AND portraying a slightly sinister witch to boot. Be still my heart because the yumminess is heavy with this one!). Watch the splendor of his performance at the witchy Zodiac Club here .

But you're wanting your trivia, so here you go: apparently the phrase "bell, book, and candle"  "refers to a Latin Christian method of excommunication by anathema, imposed on a person who had committed an exceptionally grievous sin. Evidently introduced by Pope Zachary around the middle of the 8th century, the rite was once used by the Roman Catholic Church" according to Wikipedia.  It is opened with "Ring the bell, open the book, light the candle" and closed with "Ring the bell, close the book, quench the candle". I read the actual Latin translation and it's fire and brimstone ugly stuff here. But I find it interesting that the phrase and ritual are quite reminiscent of opening and closing the circle in many types of witchcraft rituals.


Spoiler alert (if you haven't seen the film): when Gillian, Kim Novak's character, loses her powers because she falls in love, shows emotion, cries (something witches apparently can't do - well, I'm here to tell you otherwise), I wonder if that's why this particular phrase was chosen for the play and film, She essentially excommunicates herself from her powers, she loses them because the pull of mortal love is stronger than her magic. And that element of the film always made me sad, In my belief system and my use of magic, love and magic are part and parcel of the same.
Perhaps I'll get a chance to direct the play at some point. Or, better yet, be cast in it (Sadly, I'm beyond my Gillian years, but there are other juicy, witchy roles within it). And I'll remind the cast and crew that to truly bring the play alive, love AND magic must marry to create the most potent potion of them all.

Love and Magic

How to use the tarot for things other than those considered "ookie, kooky, or spooky"

What a fascinating article in Teen Vogue (a magazine which keeps surprisingd me and raising the bar on what teen journalism can be: https://www.teenvogue.com/story/how-tarot-cards-are-used-to-help-mental-health

I've been saying this for years now - and utilizing it in coaching as well. The beautiful imagery of the tarot (especially the work of Pamela Colman Smith) is universal and evocative. The images resonate with us all, no matter our belief system.

Of course, they're used in divination, and I find them a gateway into the deeper messages I'm receiving from my guides as I read. But they can be used as, to put it in simpler terms, "imagery flash cards". And, when used in that vein, they act as a key into the psyche, sometimes hitting upon triggering imagery, other times reminding us of messages from our past that are comforting, inspiring.

Some nifty ways I use them without the proverbial "crystal ball":

The Four-Card "Story" for the Month: I especially like pulling a variety of cards from several decks and looking for a connection between them. I place them on my altar and meditate on them, seeing how the imagery "hits", how the cards relate to one another. I find it especially helpful to do this at the beginning of the month. This series of cards acts as touchstones for the next four weeks.

It's Elemental: Another thing that's really inspiring is to pick from four different decks (sometimes I even use oracle decks in this mix, not just tarot) and pull a card for each of the four elements. I place these on my altar by the corresponding elemental direction. Then I ask what I should be aware of in the upcoming month regarding the element, under the lens of the card.

Une Carte: And let us not forget the one-card daily pull. Confession time: I often do this using my tarot phone app, but nothing beats the tactile act of pulling from an actual, physical deck. And then I ask myself, "What is this card nudging me to focus on for the day?" Hm. Today's card was the 4 of Cups, reminding me to keep myself open to the possibility of a gift coming from a surprising place.

Huh.

This time, it wasn't necessarily something to focus on; it was prophetic. I got a free cookie at the coffeehouse I'm writing at, and a friend offered me a very generous gift for free.  Whoa.

Okay, folks. Here I am writing about the non-divinatory aspects of the tarot, and whomp! the tarot keeps reminding me that magic is real - and part and parcel of my path. Which, actually, brings me back to the 4 of Cups' imagery, featuring this dude almost sleeping through the offering of a gift from the universe. The gift, for me, is the reminder that magic IS real - and it's what I DO. I can't afford to be asleep, to take it for granted. And it's important for me to remember that, even through the day-to-day stuff, the schedules and plans and ups and downs and memories and new things set in motion.

Lesson learned, cards. Lesson learned.

Disneyland on Beltane. Well, in theory.

The trip almost didn't happen. Actually, looking back on it now almost two weeks ago, it probably shouldn't have. My hubby had the flu, was still recuperating when our plane took off at stupid o'clock on May 1st. Then, en route, I started feeling off. Which, of course, only meant one thing: I picked up the same upper respiratory crud he had. And so I did. And we walked around Disneyland, our Mother Ship, the source for so much magic and purpose for my work, like stuffy-headed zombies, until our hotel room was ready. At which point, I collapsed in a heap on the bed and didn't move much at all until the next day. So, to cut to the chase, my plans for a magical Beltane at Disneyland were dashed.

Well, sorta. Because you push through things like this.

May 2nd, the next day. I figured the fae at the park (and, boy oh boy, there are a few), wouldn't be exactly flipping calendar pages if I did my magical work there the next day. And so I did. Because it was our wedding anniversary, the main reason for our visit, and I was not about to let a blooming upper respiratory disaster squelch our fun or my work.

I had purchased a small specimen of fairy amethyst the previous week at Crystal Life Technologies, a wonderful crystal shop about 40 minutes from my house. I muscle tested and found the exact right one. No, this is not a photo of my crystal. But THIS is. If you look closely, you can see it:

See that little whitish jobbie that's slightly conical? Yep, that's my fairy crystal, given as a little gift* to the Little Man of Disneyland. I wrote about his legend in my book, "The Mystical Mouse", but a quick summary: this plucky little leprechaun is the protagonist of a children's book that was written as Disneyland was being built and he shows up a little frustrated and cranky because Disney is plowing down the orange tree groves to build the park. But he is assured that he will always have a home and that the past will always be respected at the park. His home can be found to this day by a special tree in Adventureland, pictured above.

I felt it was particularly important to honor The Little Man at this time, on Beltane, but also because the park is in the midst of a shake-up of sorts. Star Wars Land is opening very soon and with its opening will come a whole new slew of guests who are there specifically to enter that brilliant new land. I'm afraid some of the quieter, sweeter, more magical elements and areas of the park might be glossed over. Certain things might be considered "quaint" and of an older time and might not be respected as much as the glamour of touring the Millenium Falcon or quaffing a sapphire blue cocktail at the Star Wars Cantina.

Our anniversary visit continued, with dinner in New Orleans Square, with a visit to Tinkerbell, to Snow White's Grotto (big magic therein) - and some quick shopping and even quicker ride visiting. Then I took to our hotel room, sleeping through the next day, and making it through the airport the next day as weak as a newborn kitten. A sickly, newborn kitten.

Was our experience still magical? Yes. Did I do the work I had set out to do? Just barely, but yes. Would we push through such a trip in the future? No way, Jose Carioca. But was it important to do the little bit of ceremony I did do and do I feel it added to the spirit of place and left good will, honoring What Really Matters? Yes. Yes, indeed.

Blessed be, Disneyland. May your new chapter be happy and filled with light and The Force.


* I did a speedy little ceremony with the crystal, thanked The Little Man, assured him he mattered, then snatched up the crystal; Disney does not endorse guests leaving things in the park and I respect that.

"Bewitched"'s Serena: "she's something else". And isn't that grand?

When my Dad thought someone  was strong, sassy, confusing, a pain in the ass, or just simply willful as all get out, he'd say, :Woowee - they're something else."

Which would often elicit my response: "Something WHAT?"

And then he'd say, "Oh, you know."

"Huh". Then I'd sit in silence for a while, and thank my stars I wasn't "something else".

Looking back on it now, after a lot of soul searching, after losing my Dad, my Mom, various livelihoods, dealing with health setbacks - in essence, living a life, I'm leaning toward a different perspective on "something else". Rather than someone who is a big bag of irritating personality traits, I'm more keen on thinking that someone who is something else is quite the tower of uncompromising strength, verve, and inner power.

Which made me think of Serena from "Bewitched". Now, that girl was certainly something else: self-possessed, quirky, strong - and not just a little bit groovy She seamlessly swept between continents, eras, and worlds. She popped up at often inconvenient times. She pulled many an irritating stunt - but so often her spells, her shenanigans, came from a place of contempt for complying with the mediocre, the commonplace, the "usual". She shook things up. She unabashedly flirted with Darrin's boss, wore micro mini skirts at inappropriate times, read her niece stories which caused all kinds of tomfoolery. In short, she carved her very own world, caring squat for what others thought. But, at the same time, she had at her core, a deep caring for her cousin Samantha, which she most certainly did not wear on her Pucci-designed sleeve, but kept quiet inside, only peeping out when absolutely needed.

So, after some reflection, I'm looking to be "something else", too. To stand for what I feel is right, even if the standard conceptions veer from it. To make intentions clear, to take bold steps.

If you're at the precipice of taking some big leaps professionally, as I am, may you fully embrace that something else inside. For it acts like strong wings, carrying you between the mundane and the brilliant, past the Cosmos Cotillion, and riding along side Serena, dressed in a catsuit, astride her motorcycle, ready to take on the stars ...

This is the Day of the Expanding Man"

"This is the day of the expanding man"

Ever use Pandora like a tarot deck?  Just pop it on and see what comes up, with the intention that whatever song DOES come up has a message for you? You can do it with the radio, too, or your shuffle, but I chose Pandora since I'm here at my laptop working away on my website.  So up pops this, one of my most favorite songs from one of my most favorite bands. And it was THE perfect song for me at this juncture in my life:

Deacon Blues: - Steeley Dan

This is the day of the expanding man
That shape is my shade, there where I used to stand
It seems like only yesterday I gazed through the glass
At ramblers, wild gamblers
That's all in the past

You call me a fool, you say it's a crazy scheme
This one's for real, I already bought the dream
So useless to ask me why, throw a kiss and say goodbye
I'll make it this time
I'm ready to cross that fine line

Learn to work the saxophone
 I play just what I feel
Drink Scotch whisky all night long
And die behind the wheel
They got a name for the winners in the world
 I want a name when I lose
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide
Call me Deacon Blues

My back to the wall, a victim of laughing chance
This is, for me, the essence of true romance
Sharing the things we know and love with those of my kind
Libations, sensations
That stagger the mind

I crawl like a viper through these suburban streets
Make love to these women, languid and bittersweet
I'll rise when the sun goes down, cover every game in town
A world of my own
I'll make it my home sweet home

Learn to work the saxophone
I play just what I feel
Drink Scotch whisky all night long
And die behind the wheel
They got a name for the winners in the world
I want a name when I lose
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide
Call me Deacon Blues

This is the night of the expanding man
I take one last drag as I approach the stand
I cried when I wrote this song, sue me if I play too long
This brother is free
I'll be what I want to be

I'll learn to work the saxophone
I play just what I feel
Drink Scotch whisky all night long
And die behind the wheel
They got a name for the winners in the world
I want a name when I lose
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide
Call me Deacon Blues

Okay, firsties - no, I'm not planning on drowning my sorrows in a bottle of Jack Daniels and go joyriding, so don't go calling my hubby in a state of alarm and Message me with, "Pam, you okay???" I'm absolutely fine. But I am at a jumping off point for something very new and exciting.  In essence, "this brother (sister) is free, I'll be what I want to be"

It's been a long time coming, but here it is, part out of necessity, part due to a jubilant spark.

Observe the Fool card above.  Little lady is walking right off that roof, but as happy as can be, replete with her shiny pocket book and necessities (we all need our fancy toiletries).  Like Deacon Blues and like Madge (because I shall hitherto refer to her as Madge) in the card, I'm taking a leap, moving into the new. A little scary, a lot exciting.

Folks, voice-over work alone no longer brings in enough mooolah to sustain. The business has become an icy shadow of its former self.  I have amazing skillz, folks, honed over 31 years in the biz, but I refuse to play the new game that new technology has thrown in our laps.  I will ALWAYS be a voice talent (so, agents and clients, you keep hiring me cuz I'm still very available), but it's time to climb up on the roof of that mid-century house and expand into the ether of Creativity and Spirituality Coaching, a world I'm very well-versed in, but need to bring on full force. And let us not forget my work with the Tarot.  Because Madge will NOT let me forget.

So kids, take a look at the tabs on this website.  Explore. Learn.  And contact me when you're ready to be like Madge.

A labor of love (filling the days)

I’m struggling to find a launching off point for this post. This is the one that seems to be tugging on my shirtsleeve the most:  I act more often than I direct because of the time commitment; I have a lot of plates spinning simultaneously in my world, a lot of disparate interests and energy demands.  With acting, you usually have a three-month commitment or less for rehearsal and performances.  You learn the lines and lyrics, blocking, your intentions, you character specificities, then off you go.  With directing, you’re creating a biosphere of life, light, movement, sound and emotionality. You’re often germinating your ideas for months and months.  You live with your concept, retool it, plant it, harvest it, sometimes crumple it up and go back to the drawing board, sometimes feel like a force bigger than you is in charge of the whole caboodle. You manage schedules, personalities, personality idiosyncrasies, big emotions, side glances, demands, time frames, and the occasional blind side. And, in the end, when you open that show, you have that beautiful biosphere in place and you know you’ve done all you can do and you let it fly and be free, knowing it will never return to you again as it now belongs to the world.

I’ve directed a number of shows, but I’ve never learned as many life lessons, felt as much contentment, and had my heart filled with love, awe, wonderful, ecstasy, and pure joy the way I’ve experienced with  my recent production of “Company”. It redefined for me just what “labor of love” really means.  Because whenever I got tense, uncertain, scared, or ticked off, I remembered I needed to approach each scintilla, each moment, each challenge, with love. Love filled the days, to paraphrase a line from the lyrics. From the audition process, where I insisted contacting each and every person personally who auditioned (because, dammit, actors are brave and their work should be recognized and respected, even if they’re not cast), to the rehearsal process , where I made sure actors deeply connected with each other because, well, the show IS called “company” for a reason, to making sure all crew members knew that what they were contributing mattered – I tried to always check myself and ask, “Am I coming from a place of love?” Because if I wasn’t, things fell apart or weren’t clear or defined, or simply the life drained right out onto the floor.

Was it a challenge for me?  Yep.  Because the inner critic shows up, whispering “you’re not doing this perfectly” in your ear. The “inner Eeyore” starts bemoaning, “Oh, it will NEVER come together”. The little gremlin of righteous indignation starts to stamp its little cloven hoof when met with various challenges and attitudes. I dealt with all three of them by meeting them at the gate and giving them some love, a hug, some gentleness.  And they eventually slinked away. Because love is the only antidote to their shenanigans. Was always coming from a place of love challenging or draining?  Sometimes.  But only when I fought it, when I allowed these three creeps to bully me. But love won in the end.  It always does.

And I feel the love was returned. Because that’s how energies often work. Those who came to see the show were moved, inspired, and grateful for the journey. The crew enjoyed themselves and the process. The musicians had a blast, coming dressed for theme nights for each performance. And that cast. The cast that brought to life that biosphere, gave it the beating heart and soul, they became closer than any other cast I’d ever worked with.

I’m on post-show withdrawal right now.  I tear up from time to time, knowing I won’t be seeing the cast emerge from the wings, populate the space, and create their beautiful, vibrant world. I likely won’t be able to listen to the cast recording without crying an ugly cry. But it was all worth it.

So, in short, I suggest meeting yourself at the gate before your next creative venture and ask, “Am I coming at this with love?” Because, if you aren’t, why bother with it in the first place? But if you are, it will be a triumph (this show most definitely was), no matter the number of tickets sold, no matter the response, no matter the inevitable “but I wanted it THIS way”s. It will be perfect. And you will have the memory of that little brilliant jewel of a production/process/creation in your heart for all your days. 

That love.  And that’s what it’s really about, isn’t it?

11:11 and a little gift from Mom

With Mother's Day upon us, those of us who no longer share time with our Moms on the physical plane are faced with displays of cards we don't send, ads for flowers we don't whip into a bouquet, visits to gift and whatnot shops where we stroll through aisles of candles, scarves, jewelry we don't meticulously pick out and wrap up as a special little something for Her Day.

But the thing that is worse than all that, is that we just don't get to say, "I love you, Mom".  We don't get to touch her, to kiss her, to hug her, to feel her warmth and hear her voice say, "Thanks, Best Pal".

But, on occasion, she still reminds you of her never-ending connection with you.

I hopped into my car this morning to take Ivy (our dainty beaglette) to the sitters and run a bunch of errands. Upon turning on the car, I saw the clock on the dash read "11:11".  Now, anyone who follows numerology knows that 11 is a Master Number, and that double Master Numbers are often a sign of angelic intervention.  I then got a really strong feeling to turn on the radio.  No, more of an order, loudly and clearly stated in my mind's ear.

So I turned on the radio and what was playing was this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0iAzMRKFX3c

Bette Midler's iconic song, "Wind Beneath My Wings" was THE song that I would equate with how I felt about my Mom, especially in her last days, battling skin cancer. She supported me, held me, fostered a safe place in the world for me.  She was my hero in that, when she was strong, she was unstoppable.  She also taught me that depression need not render you helpless - sadly, not by example, but due to the fact that she often succumbed to the disease; I saw how it immobilized her and I knew she wanted something better for me.

I love you, Mom. Thank you for your undying love, support, and encouragement.

A labyrinth on Winter Solstice Eve

Labyrinth, Theosophical Society, Wheaton, IL (photo from website: https://www.theosophical.org/)

December 20th doesn't get much love.

Mind you, it IS a busy time.  Especially busy for me this year, since my lovely husband and I just wrapped up a show (the 80th anniversary performance of the old-time Chicago radio classic, "The Cinnamon Bear" - a huge labor of love for him that occupied much of our energy for the last month or so), and now I have a raft of voice-over auditions my agents are sending for end-of-year campaigns, plus final holiday "business and industry" (cards, last-,minute gifts, figuring out which tipsy spirits to purchase for an upcoming shenanigan), plus maneuvering through a list of distractions as long as a daisy chain of a hundred Elves on Shelves.

I needed a bit of quietude.  I needed to decompress.  And I needed to dial in to Spirit for the Big Day tomorrow, Winter Solstice, then soon to follow Christmas Eve and Christmas Day (and Festivus.  Let us not forget Festivus). So I was delighted to find myself, between errands and an audition, near my own personal Hogwarts, The Theosophical Society in Wheaton, IL, and recalled they have quite a beautiful little labyrinth on the premises.  And it was whispering my name with not just a little bit of urgency.

Quite often, when you enter a labyrinth, you come with a question, a request of Spirit, or to concentrate on something.  Walking to the center of the design, you're often encouraged to work through something, to let go of something.  Then, once you arrive at the center, you center, give thanks, then you exit as you came, all the while either thanking Spirit or filling the space that you emptied with a new energy or purpose or goal.

I did a little bit of all of the above. I won't go into my personal details, but I at first came with a particular problem.  I was then told, in no uncertain terms by my angels and guides, that it was small potatoes and would be taken care of in a timely manner and all was well.  No, for me, I was to concentrate on a bigger picture goal of peace, love, creativity, and connection with Spirit.

And, upon exiting the labyrinth, I realized I have a new tradition to incorporate into my seasonal festivities. December 20th, Winter Solstice Eve, shall now be deemed Labyrinth Day.  Since Solstice itself is filled with so much power, I think starting your work with Spirit a day before is a perfect way to set the stage for the Shortest, Darkest Day, the day when we go within, start to germinate our goals and Life Art for the new calendar year, especially those things that will start to bloom and grow in the Spring and Summer.

So walk a labyrinth. Start your own tradition of connection to Spirit. May that connection only grow and deepen during these dark, quiet months ahead.

Peace.