life

Homeschooling, feat. Kuato the Martian Resistance Leader and Gwyneth Paltrow

It’s always a delightful feeling to discover new things about your partner.

Like, for example, the fact that they don’t know anything about Goop and have never seen Total Recall. (Him.) Or that they can’t stand hearing people call machines “pieces of junk” because they feel like it’ll hurt the machine’s feelings. (Me.)

This weekend, I sought to rectify these gaps in his cultural education.

I purposefully didn’t want to watch the 2012 remake, because there’s a heavy-handed charm in the original that I didn’t think would translate. Even when they’re trying to, there’s a ridiculous rubber-alien magic that modern remakes can’t really capture. Besides, I don’t know if Colin Farrell can really nail campy one-liners, you know?

Honestly, I’m kind of surprised by how well Total Recall has aged. All of the parts that look incredibly goofy and narmy were just as goofy and narmy years ago. It was a fun watch that was exactly what it said on the tin: A Schwarzenegger action flick on Mars that was just as Schwarzeneggery as it promised. We snarked. We ate kettle corn. We watched SpaceTrump get his eyeballs inflated by explosive decompression.

And then I led him down a Goop rabbit hole:

“Vagina eggs? What.”

“… That’s a lot of money for vagina eggs.”

“I keep reading the word ‘Goop,’ but it’s not sinking in as the name of an actual company. Goop. Goop.”

“There’s a very big ‘how did we get here’feeling. Like why did anyone think this was cool or a good idea?”

“Oh boy! The Goop Lab! That sounds very trustworthy.”

“Vampire facials! … Oh, your own blood.”

“I feel like these jade eggs are going to be in every article about her. Like they’re the crystal skulls to her Indiana Jones. They’re the common thread that will lead us back to the ancient aliens.”

“Oh, so you cowards aren’t gonna show me the $15k 24 carat gold dildo? You’ll show me the eggs, but not that?”

“Please stop doing that to science.”

In unrelated news, there are more birds in the trees outside my windows, and they’re singing their hearts out. Everything else is quiet around them — there’s no real traffic to shoo them away or drown them out. As much as I hate the reason for it, I love the fact that I can hear their songs like this.

Here’s hoping you’re staying safe, sane, and not succumbing to any cooter egg- or astronaut sticker-related problems.

 

divination, life

Getting closer, card by card.

Learning Lenormand divination has been immensely practical, especially now. It’s a lot more tangible than tarot — where tarot deals with emotions and energies, Lenormand cards deal with actions and circumstances. Both tarot and Lenormand readings give you a glimpse of the situation as it stands now, if nothing were to change, but having both at my disposal has been very helpful.

I’ve been doing small, two-card daily Lenormand readings for myself. Every day, I ask the same question: What can I do right now to bring me closer to the life that I want?

And I get an answer: Write something, deal with unresolved relationships, make something, focus my energy and attention on a specific area.

It’s nice.

Sometimes, it’s funny — since the readings are very straightforward and practical, the advice isn’t always profound. For example, for this week’s reading, I asked what I should focus on for the week to get me closer to my ideal life.

I drew the Tower and the Anchor. The Tower can represent authority, in a governmental sense. It can be the company you work for (or, in my case, my self-employment). It can be protection and isolation. The Anchor can be achieving your goals — as in, dropping anchor once you’ve reached your destination. It can be stability, or settling down. Most sources interpret this combination as a safe harbor, long-term protection, or a stable isolation.

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This image showed up when I was looking for a public domain image of a tower. Not gonna lie, social distancing would be a lot more fun there, I think.

In other words, “You want to know what you should do to achieve your goals? Really? Maybe stay home and don’t die first, nerd.” 

Which… Okay, I get that. The world isn’t likely to be substantially different over the course of the next week. Safe harbors and isolation it is.

I asked my copy of the Crow Tarot deck the same question. In response, I drew The Heirophant.

The Heirophant is a religious leader. He’s an authority. He is tradition, convention, conformity, and a mentor in The Way Things Have Always Been Done. In a spiritual sense, he is ritual, routine, and ceremony. When he shows up, it’s often a sign not to rock the boat — if you want to succeed, it’s time to listen to people who have gone before you. Reinventing the wheel won’t get you any closer to your goal.

Taken together, I should stay home and take this opportunity to study and build more routine into my day. Structure and good advice will bring me closer to the life I aspire to, now’s not the time to take chances.
I agree.

 

divination, life

Heart-Anchor-Birds.

You know that meme that’s been going around, about how if you don’t come out of social distancing with a new hobby, hustle, etc., you never lacked the time, you lacked the discipline? That’s absolute hot trash, but I am trying to use the time I have between bouts of ennui, existential despair, and anxiety to learn new things. It’s a small thing, but it helps me keep sane.

Right now, I’m trying to teach myself Lenormand readings.

It’s a very useful kind of divination. I don’t think it really replaces tarot, but, when used in combination with it, it can give you a really complete picture of a situation. Tarot’s great for giving you an energetic, mental, and emotional snapshot, while Lenormand focuses more on actions. If tarot is the “what,” Lenormand is the “how.”

It’s a bit outside of the scope of this post to dive into the history of divination using the Petit Lenormand, but there’re already a number of very good posts out there on the subject. Instead, I wanted to see how well this kind of divination would work for my usual weekly readings.

Recently, my therapist recommended doing something to add some joy to every day. It’s harder to do with everything that’s going on, but that’s exactly why it’s so important — in the absence of taking pictures of moss and mushrooms, birding, and identifying wildflowers, I have to make more of an effort to find and do things that bring me joy at home.

I asked a simple question: How?

I drew the Heart, Anchor, and Bird using the Seventh Sphere Lenormand app.

I can’t pretend to be an expert at this, since I’ve only just started. What was interesting here is how neatly the advice overlapped with what I’ve been told via tarot: One of the biggest helps for easing my anxiety is to lean more on my relationship. It provides care, stability, and happiness, but, like I talked about yesterday, I’ve also had some trouble with the reciprocal aspect of being a disabled person in a long-term relationship.

petitjeu_heartanchorbirds

In this kind of divination, the meanings of the cards are read literally, the way one might read a sentence. Each symbol has a meaning, akin to a pictogram. The Heart, unsurprisingly, stands for love and relationships. The anchor is stability and resiliency. Birds are chatter, according to some sources, and nervousness according to others. Cards are read in pairs, with the first card acting as the subject of the “sentence,” and the second as the modifier.

Read this way, heart and anchor are a long-term relationship. Anchor and birds are life=long partners, or deep discussions. It’s a deep discussion with a long-term romantic partner.

Admittedly, I don’t really like talking about what’s going on in my brain with my partner. I feel like I create enough of a burden by existing, like I don’t have a “right” to his emotional labor. We don’t really have any friction in our relationship, but there are definitely times when I have too much going on in my mind to be really present. I encourage him to be open with me, though I have trouble doing the same with him. I know that’s something that I need to get past — it looks like doing so is the best way for me to figure out how to be happy on a day-to-day basis.

Sometimes the only way out is through.

life

Snared in the Silver Lining

Druidry doesn’t have commandments. In ADF, we’re taught Virtues: Wisdom, Piety, Vision, Courage, Integrity, Perseverance, Hospitality, Moderation, and (metaphorical) Fertility. Though it isn’t explicitly named as a virtue, the idea of reciprocity is big, too. It’s kind of bundled into the concept of Hospitality, if you really think about it.

Hospitality is what ensures that no one is left behind, and everyone is taken care of — the person who turns up on your doorstep with nothing may be the person to feed you when you have nothing. It builds the reciprocal relationships that provide for everyone’s survival during hard times.

I have a hard time with reciprocity sometimes. Not because I find it unpleasant or mentally difficult to reciprocate; it’s just physically hard. I had a very tough time coming to terms with the idea of being disabled re: being taken care of, and all of the fear of abuse and abandonment that it brought up. Even when I got past those thoughts, I had to contend with the idea that I wasn’t always going to be able to return the favors I need to live. It severely impacted my relationships, even fractured a few of them.

All of this is to say that I think I’m having some kind of survivor’s guilt super hard, and it is extremely confusing.

The thought process goes a little like this:

  1. I’ve needed to be taken care of in the past, and wasn’t really able to return the favor.
  2. A pandemic strikes, and suddenly my efforts and expertise have a lot more impact.
  3. I feel more useful, and much less bad about all of the times that I needed help in the past. A silver lining!
  4. … It’s totally not okay to find a good side to a situation that’s causing so much pain to so many people.

See what I’m saying? It’s a hell of a thing to grapple with.
How much of a silver lining is okay to have?

My therapist recommends adding some joy to every day, in whatever form that may take. I’ve been painting more, and trying to do guided meditations that focus around the Law of Attraction. Usually, I don’t really want any truck with The Secret or Law of Attraction for reasons. Right now, though, I feel like being forced to listen to affirmations and focus only on the positive might be the nuclear option my brain needs.

I’m kind of kicking myself for not re-upping my supplies when all of this first hit the news — I’ve got some sweet orange oil, but not much else in the “joy promoting” area. It isn’t an area of magic I usually have to dabble in too often, but man I’d love to get my hands on a piece of genuine citrine, or even some dried hyacinth flowers!

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(Seriously, though. I can lay a hex, break it, flip it, and reverse it. I can draw in love, chase away enemies, cleanse a space, ward a house, protect a vehicle, revive a plant,  perform more kinds of divination than you can shake a stick at, and more. Joy, however, hasn’t been an area that I’ve focused on very much. Go figure!)

I hope you’re staying in and holding up well.

A sitting meerkat.
life

Happy birthday, here’s a spring roll.

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Kiko says, “Good morning! Wait, it’s what PM? Eh, whatever.”

It was my partner’s birthday recently. What do you do when bakeries are closed, grocery stores are picked over, and you haven’t seen a bag of flour in weeks?

Improvise!

In this case, with a tealight and some sweet mango and sticky rice spring rolls. It wasn’t a traditional birthday cake, but they were tasty.

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Right now, we’re trying to put off going out to the grocery store again until we absolutely have to. There’s a set of cloth masks en route to us as I type this, and we’ve got some  hydroknit shop rags for making ersatz mask filters. We’re out of fresh fruit and vegetables, and I’m getting to the point where I’m scouring Allrecipes for things I can cobble together out of a yam, a can of baked beans, and a bag of dry mini ravioli.

(I did manage to make a very tasty breakfast out of some frozen Belgian waffles, microwaved berries, honey, and crumbled goat cheese.)

We’re getting creative.

I haven’t taken pictures yet, but I’ve finally dug into my stash of recycled silk ribbon and beads — including some very pretty Czech glass and matte amethyst. I have a set of copper and glass frame pendants, unstretched canvas, and plenty of time to play around, so I’m going to see what I can come up with. I’m not usually a fan of trying to paint miniatures on medium-textured canvas, but necessity’s the mother of invention, and all.

I also have some idea for a spray. I’m not sure if it’s more accurately called a cleansing spray, maybe a “clearing” or “lifting” spray? I know I want to start with lavender water and some kind of citrus, but I’m not sure what type. Lemon doesn’t seem like it has quite the right vibe for what I’m looking for. Maybe bergamot? I haven’t worked with bergamot as much as I’d’ve liked to, so that’ll give me the chance to forge a stronger relationship with it. Then, I just need to feel out other ingredients to include…

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One interesting challenge for me is that I’m limited to working with whatever the grocery store has, and what I can forage from either a strip of gravel around a dumpster, or whatever manages to reach through the chainlink fence at the end of the alley. I don’t know exactly what kind of plants these are, I haven’t attempted an ID yet. If there’s one quality I’m positive they have, though, it’s resilience.

I think a lot of us could use a little extra resilience right now.

Here’s hoping you’re healthy, not too stir-crazy, and holding it together.

divination, life

Le Pendu

Hanging is a lot of things, but it’s not always a punishment.

Part of me wanted to skip this week’s card, because… Well, there’s not much going on, is there? I’ve been keeping busy here, but interactions with the outside world that alter the shape of my internal landscape have been, shall we say, lacking.

Still, I did the thing.

I had to laugh when I drew Le Pendu, The Hanged Man.

Like the man in the Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck, Le Pendu of the Tarot de Maria-Celia dangles by one foot. His hands are free, though, and he appears to be sticking his tongue out — almost a “Look, Ma! No hands!” face. Nobody tied him there. He isn’t being punished. He is there of his own volition, for his own reasons.

He is waiting. Resting. Delayed. Hanging upside-down certainly gives him a new view of the world, but this comes at the price of his mobility. He is sacrifice.

I had to order a few things today. I would’ve preferred not to, but there are some supplies that are no longer available locally here. I can’t really describe how nerve-wracking it was, scrolling through lists of products to find the things we needed, all while watching things sell out before I could act. Still, this anxiety comes from a fortunate place: We have the ability to order things, or I wouldn’t’ve been looking in the first place.

It’s a helpless feeling, like hanging upside down, but Le Pendu’s hands are free and I am fortunate to be in a position to feel this helplessness to begin with.

Waiting isn’t always a punishment. Right now, it’s the choice we make for our own safety, and the safety of others. The Hanged Man has to come down some time. The helplessness and delays will pass.

life

The Letter and the Spirit

It’s one thirty in the morning.

Pye is racing from room to room, stopping short with all four legs splayed out, bellowing into the night before zooming off.

I’m sitting on my (half-asleep) partner, eating a sandwich and babbling about this completely awesome idea I just had to set up a blanket tent in the living room, make s’mores, and watch a marathon of The Twilight Zone. (He does not remember this conversation, and it’s probably just as well.)

I also never thought I’d get to the point where my misophonia would be hardcore enough to make me want to punch myself in the face for chewing, but here we are.

 

letusout

“I think we need to… go on a car ride, or something,” my partner suggests, voice heavy with concern.

“No,” I tell him. No, because, right now, the only place either of us goes is to the grocery store. No, because burning gas unnecessarily means eventually having to make an extra stop at the gas station to refill. That means touching surfaces that someone else has to touch afterward. It means walking on the ground where other people have to walk, then track whatever’s on that ground into their homes. What if we get in a car accident? That takes up two spots in the ER that could’ve been used by someone else.

It’s bad enough we have a (probably also unnecessary, but work with me here) decontamination protocol established for going to the grocery store: He goes. I make him wear elbow-length rubber gloves and cover his face with something to keep him from touching it. He comes home, leaves the groceries by the door, strips off his clothes and puts them by a bag near the door, dumps the gloves into a bucket of soapy water also by the door, and hops in the shower immediately. I empty any groceries I can into separate glass containers and throw the packaging out. If I can’t do that, I wipe the packaging with disinfectant. As soon as he’s out of the shower, he washes his clothes, takes out the trash, then washes his hands. It’s exhausting, time-consuming, and pretty ludicrous, but it keeps the health anxiety at bay. (At least, a little bit.)

Confinement’s making a lot of us kind of weird.

oddball

What’s still completely baffling to me, though, are all the stories of influencers choosing to skip town. “I’m doing what’s best for my family” seems to be the reasoning (though a cynical part of me wonders when they started considering their ad partners “family”). Doctors decry the behavior, worried that they’ll inadvertently encourage their followers to do the same. People in rural or tourist areas are worried because they aren’t set up to feed and supply these people off season — and they’re damn sure not set up to care for them if they get seriously ill, or bring the virus with them.

“I’m doing what’s best for my family,” but all leaving does is let you travel back in time a few days, maybe a few weeks. Before long, all of the places that people are fleeing to will experience their own peaks. What will they do then? Return home, after their home is finally seeing a decline in cases, and bring a new increase with them?

“I’m doing what’s best for my family,” it just involves acting contrary to the advice of doctors and potentially killing other people’s families in the process. For what? Instagrammable content and an illusory sense of temporary safety?

I read a comparison of pathogens to a coat of invisible wet paint. You touch it, maybe with your hand, or even your shoe, and it gets on you. You can’t see it, though, so you don’t notice all of the places you leave it behind or all of the people who end up touching it after you. You can avoid seeing other people, but you’re not really socially distancing if you’re out touching wet paint and tracking it everywhere you go. It’s the difference between following the letter of the recommendation, versus the spirit.

I get it, confinement sucks. I’m fortunate, in a strange way, because circumstances have made me used to keeping myself busy at home. I wish there was a way I could help take care of my grandfather, or go see my partner’s family, but we’d be doing more potential harm than good if we did. Staying confined isn’t just a way to keep us safe — it’s a way to keep us from unwittingly killing someone else. Taking care of each other means not making the (often underpaid) employees of stores, gas stations, and accommodations expose themselves to unnecessary risk.

Stay home. Please.