"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.