Ahhh, and we enter into the much-anticipated year of 2012. Happy New Year everybody. How are we all feeling? Strange days indeed… but kind of fun for those of us who secretly (or not so secretly, as it turns out..) want to be the next Tank Girl. There are so many urgent causes now, such a plethora of ways to Save the World that the real problem is just choosing which one to do!  The hype about the end of the Mayan calendar on 21/12/2012 has manifested itself in the collective unconscious in the form of New Age cliches, misinterpretation and good old-fashion ignorance-  and  most of us are just busy keeping busy and not letting too much independent thought interfere with the program by inebriating ourselves into oblivion when we are not working.   Not that I mean to sound cynical. I gave that up as one of  my 2011 New Years Revolutions and have been doing swimmingly well keeping things light and literal  ever since. Yes I know I wrote ‘Revolution’. Isn’t that way more impressive than the lame ‘Resolution’, which just reeks of failure before it’s even begun? Personal revolution. It all begins at home, kids. I dare you!

I’ve been spending a lot of time out the front under my green canopy of vines, watching the spiders slowly spin  their webs and capture their prey. I like sitting out there at night smoking in the dark, listening to the trees. I do this instead of writing. Which is why I haven’t posted anything for three months. Profound apologies. I am just another victim of  the Tricks of  Time. Aren’t we all? Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

It’s weird when you start digging a bit deeper, by-passing the What to get to the Why. Why are the ice-caps melting? Is this what is meant to happen, or are we supposed to try and prevent it (add to Tank Girl list of Things To Do to Save the World). I started to think that perhaps I was meant to write profound things to trigger revolutionary inspiration in capable and literate persons Out There Somewhere. The pressure began to build. Suddenly my writing seemed to be rather lacking in something…like  The Force. To try and formulate sentences which mean something and string them together so that someone else might derive something of value from them… it all becomes very abstract very quickly. I used to just write. The words would pour forth and I didn’t stop to think or to over-analyze. Blissful stream-of-consciousness.  But something changed. I felt that somehow it needed to be bigger, better, more important. That my writing should somehow make a difference in the world, that I should be doing some amazing, revolutionary work rather than fluffing about in my own little microcosm of words. The same with painting- it felt like an indulgence I couldn’t afford. Rubbish, of course. All it means is that I ended up not painting. Or writing. Be careful when you start getting Serious about Stuff. I can pretty much guarantee it will shut you down, the pay-offs are negligible, the world stays the same, and you lose all your friends.

Not that I lost all my friends. Thank god they see something of value in my dark side and call it “intensity” in a way which could possibly inspire awe, given the right circumstances. However, I figure it all has to mean something, this urge to DO something good. I think it means I  should be doing something to help make things better. It is just a matter of how. I am inherently lazy (refer to above  lying around on couch watching spiders and smoking…) and  have a rather deep-rooted fear of commitment ( I associate commitment  with sacrifice of personal freedom and tend to avoid it avidly. I used to have nightmares about marriage and still much prefer the runaway bride with the wild wind in her hair.  I also change my mind a lot. I’m a Gemini moon with a Sagittarius rising  so Don’t tie me down, man!(Ref. “Shit New Age Girls Say”)).  Basically, what I’m getting at here is that whilst I seem to be burdened with this conscience thing, I can’t rest. Tank Girl can wait til the revolution has fully kicked in. In the meantime  I have to find the Homer Simpson way to save the world without leaving my couch.

Enter Avaaz. Hello, my heroes!  Any organization that can help expose the underbelly of Rupert Murdoch and have the world gaping in horror at the rotten flesh we find there (eww- sorry, too visual. I just totally grossed myself out)- and save the Bolivian Amazon from a freeway cutting through its heart in the same year, has my respect. And in true Homer fashion, all I had to do to feel part of it was sit here and click a button or two every day. Yes, I believe in the end to world poverty: click! No, I don’t want to be tortured nor do I think other people should have their fingernails ripped out for having a different opinion to that of the present dictatorship: click! Online global petitions against atrocities that hook you up with other conscience-stricken wannabe world savers- – - and it actually works! Genius. Let it be known, I am a fan.

I am also a fan of the Sea Shepherd (and have the bumper-sticker to prove it). Pirates who save whales and are willing to risk their lives and get captured by the angry whalers- oooh, it is nothing short of romance on the high-seas! Every woman I speak to swoons when it comes to men fighting to save good stuff – whales, forests, coral reefs, because it’s like fighting to save US. We are part of the natural world, this is our home, and it’s that primal protective drive which is so goddamn sexy.You protect what you love, and if you don’t, then you have to ask what, at the end of the day, actually matters?  These are our heroes! I guess it’s that old thing about the good looking rebel who plays by his own rules… the bad boy who bucks the system (coz the system sucks) and follows his heart. Joseph Campbell’s mythic Hero – the odds stacked against him, but he has the power, the magic is in his passion, in his heart. Courage. I love that the French for “Good Luck” is “Bon Courage” – which translates as Good Heart. Braveheart. Sigh…

Okay, okay, I’ll shift gears. Cruise a bit. It’s a Sunday night, for god’s sake.( I think it’s Julian’s fault for playing Moby.) The thing is, considering the state of affairs in the world currently, I actually am not feeling bad at all. At times, it is true, I may sound like a neurotic, pessimistic manic depressive (and sure, i have my moments, but what kind of Goth would I be if I didn’t? It’s not just the black dress, baby) but at heart all I want is for the world to be beautiful. Nature is beautiful, in all it’s wild glory. To me, nature is the manifestation of the Divine, and I have the deepest respect for everything from the stars to the soil beneath my feet. I don’t classify myself as any particular kind of witch, nor do I subscribe to any religion, but if I did it would be wild and deep green with purple hearts and deep red roses. My fragrance unfurls under the moon. The wild things find each other in the forest. I sharpen my senses, see the signs in the night sky.

I felt a deep love for 2011 – it was like parting with a dear friend, saying goodbye and thanks for the memories. A year full of ivy and tattoos and tarot and teenagers. Of so much music! Of fan dancing and feathers, of ritual and hilarity and the planting of new seeds and dying of old trees.  In a secret cave by the wild ocean I remember it all, but acknowledge the necessity of letting it go. I have learned  to try and not hold onto anything or anyone. To do so is to invite agony. So  I let the waves come and wash it all away. I bathe in the rockpools and purify myself for ritual. I let the water wash away the pain of the past. I prepare myself for the journey forward, though I have no map. I realize that this is not the end – there is no end – it is all cyclical, circular, and spiral as the shells. I trust my instinct now, and honour my ancestors, the blood which flows in my veins, the strong, resilient heart and the Star  that is my guiding light. I am in the centre now, where all is quiet and still. I am not alone. I look up and see the ravens in the day. Under the full moon huge black bat wings fly close. I dream of snakes, so many dreams of snakes. Ivy grows up my arm, little star-leaves. It is the beginning and the end, the best of times and worst of times. History unfurls itself and we enter the New Age of Aquarius. The Fool travels light, just that little swag on the end of a stick and a white rose held high.

Considering the end of the world is nigh, and All Hallows Eve is nearly upon us, I hereby declare my allegiance to the Go-Go Girls of the Apocalypse.  I have been waiting to see what inspiration would turn up at the 11th hour and here it is, on a rainy Friday night, when I least expected it.  I cannot say how relieved I am to have chanced upon this fanciful sisterhood of extreme coolness when all other options were looking somewhat tawdry. I have no idea at this stage who else belongs to this fraternity (yes, yes, I know ‘fraternity’ means brotherhood, but  is there an equivalent word for ‘sisterhood’? Because if there is, I don’t know it, so ‘fraternity’ is just going to have to go trans-gender for now), but we are out there…roaming amongst the masses largely incognito, spies of the underworld, each of us holding a key to the portal that remains forever hidden to the unworthy. Well, that’s the story I’m going with, anyway – and at this late stage in the game, there are no rules, baby!

Apparently the 28th October was/is the official end of the Mayan calendar and has something rather significant to do with the end of the world as we know it. There is much talk of these things amongst the circles I move in, and theories abound as to the interpretation of what exactly is meant by the ‘end of the world’. One can’t help but be curious. And somewhat detached. I mean, really, what can you do? If it’s going to all go up in a puff of smoke, or crumble in a catastrophic quake of gargantuan proportions, then, well, there it is. Sayonara, Hasta la vista, or as I used to say when about to play a winning hand at poker, Goodnight Suzie! (don’t ask. I don’t know.) So anyway, I’m going with the Go-Go Girls and that’s it. I want to dress up in my knee-hi white boots, tease my hair into an award-winning trophy of apocolyptic grandeur, and go out with a bang, not a whimper!

I want the vampires to rise from their coffins for the occasion, and in particular one Eric Northman, to come find me while I’m go-go dancing in my neo-gothic steampunk cage, and smile seductively,( fangs clicked out)  as he approaches with the only key… As the crazy surfer-punk go-go music blares through the crowd, and the burly security guards try to prevent him from getting to me, he pushes aside all interference as though they were mice- nay, mosquitos – and his gaze remains unwaveringly upon me as he licks his sweet vampire lips in preparation for his last supper, his divine conquest, realizing that Sookie was only ever an appetizer in comparison to this, Miss Melisinka Star…

Of course, there is no real end to the world in terms of the whole planet exploding or imploding or whatever. Not yet, anyway. I’m no scientist, but in the famous words of Cath, “I feel it in my waters”. Rather, as my more new-age-oriented friends would put it, this whole end times thing is more about a transformation. “Transformation” is the word we tarot readers use when the Death card comes up in a reading and clients get a little freaked out. Everything goes through it’s own cycle, and Death is merely a part, a stage, in Life. No need to panic, just a wee trip into the Underworld for a bit, then up again into the next lovely sunny rebirth. If you can find your way out, of course…

The thing is, in this time where developers are free to roam and destroy all dwellings of history and beauty, and replace them with the box-ugliness of homogenized mediocrity that destroys the soul and renders us with nowhere left to hide, nowhere left to play- for their own vile profit, I can honestly say I see nothing too wrong with a bit of an apocalypse to clear the path ahead. Aren’t the zombies already here amongst us? Of course they are, and their leader is Rupert Murdoch. There are legions of them. Corporate legions. They brutalize the earth, animals and other humans for profit, and their time, hopefully, has come. The empire of greed  must come to an end. Where’s the love, people, where is the love in this fucked up system of rules and laws that serve the rich and feed off the ‘third world’?

So anyway, I was being rescued/attacked by Eric Northman, and I was a bikini girl with a machine-gun – wait, no, a Go-Go girl of the Apocalypse, and the vampires  had all risen from their coffins. All the  really, really good-looking vampires like Louis and Lestat and pretty much the entire cast of True Blood, and Angel and Spike and the Cullens and all the rest, come to party with us Go-Go’s, whilst the other Nosferatu terrorize and  feed on the corporate legions and developers -  under a blood red sky. There are violent thunderstorms and amazingly, lightning strikes and destroys just the square box architecture and everything beige, leaving resplendent and glorious, the old Victorian, Edwardian and Gothic dwellings! The ivy which clings to their stone walls shivers as the wild winds and torrential rain cleanses the world of ugliness.  All ancient church spires serve as antennae to call down the Angels, who move amongst us, kissing, singing and bringing great blessings of ecstasy  to those whose heart has been broken in the harsh end times. Those angels pick us up in their arms and we ride through the sky as the world floods and rumbles below. Mother Nature roars, and in the four Watchtowers the Go-Go Girls of the Apocalypse, in their hot-pants and high boots, dance the crazy night away into a brand new day!

Yes! It’s mayhem, it’s chaos! And yes, there are gaps in my unfolding saga, but what the hell, it IS the end of the world as we know it so of course there is going to be a wild, anarchic feel to the whole thing, right. But it certainly supersedes any theory I’ve been met with lately, so I’m sticking with it. I’m sure the details will be filled in when the time comes. In the meantime, there is not only Samhain/Halloween in a couple of nights, when the veil between the worlds is thinnest, but also the most auspicious 11.11.11 which falls on full moon in Taurus, is just around the corner … so if you have some wishing to do, go lace up your boots and zip up your hotpants my pretties, for the end of the world is nigh! (p.s. coolest coffin below. Way to go!)

A thunderstorm has just arrived- how wonderful!!  What a relief from what I can only describe as a rather trying week…

It’s always a little disconcerting when the Nine of Swords is the card that keeps coming up for you. It’s such an intense image, no matter what deck you are using – all those swords and the figure that knows no rest from the torments of her own mind. I find it hard to distinguish sometimes whether the thoughts that plague me are urging me towards some kind of action, or whether it is more a matter of realizing that this is part of the human condition and the only release comes in surrender to a higher consciousness, that our mind alone is not enough to liberate us. If we follow through the suit of Swords to the Ten, where the figure lies pierced and prostrate, the final stage of mental anguish, where there is nowhere left to go, nothing left to do – I am of the inclination to suggest that the culmination of stress and worry, of depression and anxiety, confusion and despair, lies in surrender. We can try and try to work things out in our heads, to escape the demons that torment us, but in the end it is useless, because the mind cannot resolve the craziness of humanity and of the system we find ourselves part of. When I look at the world and what is happening out there, I find it so overwhelming and often horrifying, that I simply cannot rationalize it away. My sense of powerlessness to change things for the better is so crushing that I find I am left with the pain, anger and frustration -  and it can feel like there is no way to escape it.

Whilst in the macrocosm, the world continues to pollute and destroy what is left of nature, in the microcosm of my own little world, I have had to face the tearing down of much of my beautiful ivy and climbing roses along the fenceline of a ruthless neighbor. For me, my home is my sacred refuge, bordered by walls of as much greenery as possible. I nurture and love the wild way it all grows together, I feel like I am living inside the walls of the Secret Garden. There is enough order and  control out there, I want to live where the wild things are, my own little forest. My soul can be at peace most easily when I have nature all around me. I can sit surrounded by green and feel full of love with the nature of which I am part. The spirit of the trees and the ivy and flowers is pure faery and more real than anything else to me. I have always had a love-affair with ivy. Even as a little girl I planted it all around our suburban garage. So you  can imagine how I felt when I came home to a large portion of this hacked away, and part of the fence which was a wall of privacy and deep green leaves, gone entirely! No negotiation, no warning, just a desolate wasteland and a massive heap of dead foliage left for me to clean up. For some, this might not be a big deal, but for me it felt like being invaded or attacked, the boundaries of my sanctuary had been blasted away and there was nothing I could do about it.

I think the feeling of powerlessness in these situations is so hard to deal with on a mental level. I tried to talk with the neighbour, to let her know that the remaining ivy she plans to destroy is where I do my painting, and that I would be left with a wall of dry, dead leaves, but was faced with such patronization and inability to see another point of view, (she started lecturing me on gardening, and how ivy should not be tolerated on any level…) -  that I just had to leave without her listening to a word I said. But the process of internalizing this frustration and all the other emotions that go with it, can be really hard to deal with. No matter how rational you try and be, no matter how much you try and see the positive (I’ve got more light now… It’s good to have a fresh start…) in the situation, it usually finds its way through your deeper consciousness and manifests in your dreams – or in a state of sleeplessness.

The other card that has been coming up for me over and again recently, is the card of Justice. The archetype of balance, fairness and objective truth portrayed in the scales. Unlike the extremity of the Nine of Swords, Justice represents the negotiation between mind and emotion, the careful weighing of facts from all parties involved in a given situation, and an outcome which is fair and reasonable. Because it is a Major Arcana card, I have been viewing it as the guiding force here whilst I’m wrangling my way through all those mental swords. I see it as my challenge to find a way to accept what I cannot change, and change what I can (and the wisdom to know the difference okay!). It is the balance, if you like, between acceptance and action. Whilst it is much easier, and very tempting, to just react to the situation, by meditating on it and asking for guidance I am coming into a different sort of power – the power to govern my own inner world, my emotions and my state of harmony. It’s not easy, and yesterday I found myself in the ‘swamp’ again, sinking into a void of despair over the human condition and my own tendency toward extreme melancholy. Luckily, my friend was there to offer some insight and reason and love, and I found myself slowly crawling out of that hideous pit, a bit worse for wear, but not utterly ruined. Onwards goes the journey.

What is coming through as most important here is that there will always be situations on a personal and global level which are distressing, but the ability to balance things out with hope and the cultivation of inner peace and a sense of equilibrium is absolutely necessary for one’s well-being and spiritual growth. There is also a sense of cosmic Justice at play in the unseen forces of life which may not always be easy to identify, but is nonetheless an integral aspect of the whole system – nature has its own way of redressing the balance in the end, and there are consequences to our actions on every level.

I am now going out to plant ivy all along my brand new fence. Long live the World of Faery!

Oh, and I just found this on a site called What’s-Your-Sign.com, and thought I might share, for those fellow ivy-lovers…

Similar to the vine, the Celtic meaning of ivy deals with:

• Growth
• Renewal
• Connection
• Friendship
• Opportunity

It is also a symbol of vibrancy as the druids admired its bright green hue. Often, sprigs of ivy would be woven into chain necklaces or head adornments to represent clarity of thought as well as celebrate the vitality of nature surrounding them.

The ivy gets its symbolism of connections and friendships because of its propensity to interweave in growth. Ever furrowing and intertwining, the ivy is an example of the twists and turns our friendships take – but also a testimony to the long-lasting connections and bonds we form with our friends that last over the years.

Another tribute to friendship as well as the test of time is the ivy’s ability to grow in challenging environments. The ivy is incredibly durable and can withstand harsh conditions. This is symbolic of our ability to stick by our friends no matter what.

The ivy is also a symbol of survival and determination for the same reasons. It seems to be virtually indestructible and will often return after it has suffered damage or has been severely cut back. This is an example of the human spirit and the strength we all have to carry on regardless of how harrowing our setbacks may have been.

Also pertaining to its growth (and similar to the vine) the ivy grows in the shape of a spiral. This has long been considered a sacred symbol for:

• Consciousness
• Development
• Expansion
• Rebirth

Lasly, most ivy has five-pointed leaves which makes it a symbol of protection as it signifies the harmony of the elements unified by common bonding energy.

I wrote a blog recently about the High Priestess and it was all sexy and delved into realm of  dance and evoking instinct through the senses – the play between reader and client which doesn’t usually come up in books on Tarot. Now that’s all well and good, but of course the other side of this trump is that the High Priestess is also, of course, extremely spiritual in a way which has nothing at all to do with sexuality. And that, my friends, is what I have been contending with lately. I say ‘contending’ because this aspect  is much harder for me to connect with in some ways – as it requires dedicated commitment and discipline, both of which I  unfortunately lack in abundance.But when you are travelling the path of spirit, you cannot avoid forever those challenges which are part of the journey – they will always come up in some form or other and won’t go away until you face the truth of what they are trying to teach you.

My wake-up call came most unexpectedly in the form of an intense experience at work last week. I had gone into work feeling happy and high in energy, looking forward to a day of serving in the shop and working with the lovely Mia, open to whatever and whomever came in for some magic or fun. Now, working in a witchy shop, you always get a wide variety  of people, from the curious tourists to the deep and dedicated pagans. Each and every person who comes into the shop has a different energy, and for me, personal energy is so real and I tune into it so instinctively, that it is almost tangible. Over the years I have learned to identify and adapt to so many different people’s vibration that I can usually work with them, choosing accordingly how much to open up or close off depending on what I’m picking up. It’s like having a finely tuned antennae, and it is what I use when I am reading. It is a crucial part of the High Priestess, of intuition (tuition = learning and wisdom) and insight (sight=vision beyond the mundane or superficial appearance).  Most people operate within a fairly normal range of energy, and when you connect to them with a high vibration of friendliness and open-heartedness, will automatically rise to match your own. It can be as simple as smiling genuinely at someone and sending them love or warmth, and usually it is highly effective. However, this applies to most people, not ALL people, and in the mix you always get your share of the seriously deranged. And unfortunately, dark or low energies are often attracted to you when you are full of light and good energy, like a moth to the flame.

You can usually tell within the first minute of meeting one of these people of dark energy  that something is not right, and with this particular woman, it took only about ten seconds. As she walked into the shop she immediately focused on me and locked her gaze intensely into mine. There is a huge difference between someone just looking at you, and when someone intensely locks you in – it is a demand, an invasion,  rather than an invitation to connect. Normally I would cut off immediately and move completely out of the vicinity of such a person, as it feels to me akin to being physically held against my will. However, in the shop, this is not an option, so as she approached I decided just to handle it as it came, and work around it as best as I could.  Without hesitating she said she had come in to get a binding spell and proceeded to tell me that she was a very powerful witch who had descended from a long line of other witches and they had all been waiting for her birth because of a whole list of reasons I didn’t really hear because the alarm bells in my head were so loud. I took a deep breath and as she showed no signs of pausing, but was intent on continuing to unload her royal witch bloodline history on me, interrupted her politely to advise she get a personal spell made up at the Dispensary when it was open next week, as there was no spell in the shop that fitted her needs, and as she could see, the shop was full of people waiting to be served. One of the most common signs of this kind of energy is that these people have no awareness of others except as it suits them. They exist in some sort of toxic bubble in which their reality is the only one that counts.

I hoped at this point that she would leave the shop, but of course she didn’t. Instead, she started questioning Mia and myself as to the meaning and symbolism of whatever she found – then arguing about it and trying to prove how much more informed she was about everything. Ridiculous. When she yelled across the shop at me whilst I was talking to another customer, asking me which St Catherine the talismans represented, because there were over 40 St Catherines, and only one of them had any real power, and blah blah blah, I felt the back of my neck burn so hot that I knew I had to physically remove myself from her presence. I told her I didn’t have a clue, I wasn’t Catholic, (and mentally, that I didn’t give a shit) and excused myself to go upstairs. My heart was beating so fast, and I felt so angry that her energy was getting to me. When your body starts physically giving you such strong signals, you know you are dealing with a challenge on the psychic/spiritual level – the only trouble is, you often don’t know what it’s exactly about, or how to deal with it. I took some deep breaths, and visualized myself in white light and asked for protection. I know I’m strong, but I felt like somehow this woman had found a weakness or ‘entry point’ into my energy, and it had thrown me. I felt emotionally vulnerable though I wasn’t sure why or how this had happened. I didn’t believe this woman was stronger than me, in fact I thought she was mentally ill, but whatever it was about her, it was getting to me, and part of me was panicking.  I tried to center myself and went back downstairs.

Of course, she was still there, and as soon as I came back down she tried to engage my attention again, even though Mia was serving her. It is an interesting fact that when it comes to energy vampires and psychic attack, they will inevitably attempt to get some emotional response from those they want to ‘feed’ from. The art of remaining detached and unaffected when this is happening to you is one which I realized I need to cultivate right then and there. As I served another customer, I could hear her saying how there were no turtles in this jar of talismans, and that was baaaad luck,  a very bad omen. The seriously deranged are prone to intense superstition – and if they have a penchant for magic, it’s just fatal. Their vortex of fear and negativity knows no bounds. I could  feel her presence behind me, sending out poison cords into my energy field and again, the heat rose in my body and especially the back of my neck ( a strong ‘entry point’). Then I heard her say – and it was almost like an intimate whisper, which made it all the more creepy- “You are very passive aggressive.”

I can tell you right now that the “passive” part was about to go. What I wanted to do more than anything was push this bitch physically out of the shop right then and there. When I think about it now, it seems like the classic temptation of the hero in so many myths, when the forces of evil offer us power – and we so want to crush, kill and destroy. (“Come to the Dark Side, Luke!)  But to do so is to have lost the battle, because the enemy is not embodied in another, it is actually within our very self, is part of our shadow, and the very reason it effects us so much is that it reflects or mirrors this part of our own being. Just like Harry Potter, who had a piece of  Lord Voldemort in him, representing his shadow and over which he had to triumph as part of his quest for true freedom.  If we give in to it, the power is so great that it becomes impossible to control – myths warn over and over again how addictive this kind of power can be – and also how it ultimately will consume us, because we are working with the energy of hate, anger and fear. Moreover, to kill off the thing that is attacking us will only give temporary relief, but is bound to re-emerge in another form later. It is the kind of energy that just finds a body to work through, but is not actually inherent in that being. Our lesson is to learn how to deal with it, to use our tools or abilities to handle it without emotionally succumbing. As I said, to remain detached and centered and calm would have been my victory.

Alas, I can’t say I came out of the encounter as the victorious High Priestess of incredibly awesome power and self-control. I did ignore the comment, but when I went back behind the counter and she was still standing there just staring into me, refusing to budge, I turned to her and said, “Okay, you can stop doing that energy shit to me and leave the shop now.” There’s nothing like this kind of sentence to instantaneously hush the thronging masses, it’s almost as if a spotlight comes down from above and there you are, center-stage, all pumped up with adrenalin and wildly improvising the Theater of the Absurd. I didn’t feel particularly strong, it was more like a weird mix of anger and fear (later, Mia had said I looked like a rabbit with a fox about to attack me. Not exactly the heroic vision I’d have chosen for myself…) The woman’s  response was mock horror (or maybe real shock, who knows? Who cares?) as she started  telling me how she had always thought she could come to other witches in her time of need, but look what she got instead – she’d never felt so hurt in her life! She then proceeded to paraphrase her dead grandmother who had warned her against “people like me”. Really, I said, well you’d better get out of here then. Even as she backed out the door, she would not stop looking at me with those swampy dark eyes, shaking her head the whole time.

The thing is, when you get drawn into any kind of negative exchange like this, especially when you are in the psychic industry, it is as though you take on the other person’s energy. If they get to you, they’re in – and even if it’s just that you are thinking about them, they can have a hold over you. Part of the discipline then becomes not to think about them, to cleanse yourself and your mind of the whole thing. As my wise friend, the Cat Woman, said to me, “They only have power if you let them.” Simple but true indeed. Part of me was worried that this woman was exactly the kind of person who would seek revenge by casting some spell or hex, but if I went down that path of worrying about it, I knew very well that I’d eventually end up just like her, a victim, convinced the world was somehow against her, thinking I needed binding spells and protection spells forever against the endless stream of enemies in my own head. It is the way of lunacy, not enlightenment, to get tangled in the occult in this way. It is the kind of darkness that holds no appeal to me whatsoever. It is the swamp of no return.

So, anyway, I write this not to re-hash the experience, but to expose it and analyze it for the benefit of others who encounter similar energies. There is a lot of talk and a million books on psychic attack and defense, and it is wise to know how energy works between people and within your own self, but I  think it is imperative to remember the still, calm nature of the High Priestess as she sits between the black and white pillars of knowledge and experience, of instinct and reason. Grounding oneself in reason is a fine antidote to the terrors of unknown possibilities and the potential manifestation of our own fears.  To harbor resentment or anger towards this woman would not serve me well, on the contrary it would keep me connected with her. What I choose to do instead is to thank her for playing her role so well in waking me up to the fact that I need to do some work on myself, most notably in the form of daily meditation – a practice very much associated with the High Priestess, but one which I have been neglecting for too long. The deep inner work of the soul, opening up to higher energies and learning new skills so the next encounter won’t be quite so disarming.

Well I’m sitting here crunching into an organic apple, breathing in the frankincense and burning a light green candle in honour of Spring and Aphrodite. The degree of discipline it has taken just to get to this point is ridiculous – and writing a post seems like a totally impossible task, but I’m so sick of procrastinating that I will sit here and let my fingers play with the keyboard until I manage to get something – anything!- out into the world. I have just come back from my pole-dance class and can feel the bruises already starting to make their way to the flesh on my thighs, which is an oddly satisfying sensation, I have to say. The marks of successfully rising to another challenge, of hanging upside down in the ‘crucifix’ and the ‘batman’ poses, of sitting cross-legged and lady-like at the top of the pole with my arms stretched out in the ‘swan’ with my teacher telling me to smile as the pole burned my flesh. (“NOT the smile of death!” was her response to my attempt to dutifully follow her instructions. Well, who smiles while they’re being crucified anyway? I’d like to know.)

The truth is, it was not just the coffee that got me up and down that pole today, it was the crazy energy of Spring and all the buzzing excitement I am feeling at the moment. Like most people, I love having energy, and feeling it return after the long, cold winter is wonderful. But the thing is, for me, it becomes almost impossible to focus and concentrate on something like writing when your body just wants to being out there doing stuff. All sorts of stuff. Sweet stuff. Like a honey bee dipping into a myriad of blossoms, drinking in all the tastes and sensations life has to offer. Every time I walk down my street I find my face buried in a jasmine bush, closing my eyes and breathing in the divine sweetness, it just draws me in instinctively. I cross the road to get to different flowers. I’m completely and utterly at the mercy of my senses.

Now this all sounds wonderful, I’m sure, but actually it is kind of driving me crazy because it doesn’t just stop with the flowers. It happens with people too. I find myself getting drawn to particular energies and sometimes it’s so strong I have to stop myself from, well, from just – indulging in some kind of hedonistic orgiastic spontaneous rite of spring!! This may have been all fine in the good old days of yore, when these primitive impulses were taken into consideration and there were festivals to celebrate such energy, like Beltane at the height of summer, where everyone would basically get to choose whoever they desired as a partner for the night, dance around big fires and frolic in the forests, but when it’s your barrista or the guy you meet eyes with on the tram each morning, it’s kind of a different dynamic.  There’s always this undercurrent of protocol which is unclear. As a culture we have very ill-defined boundaries when it comes to what is and isn’t appropriate, not to mention the unspoken ‘rules’ that come into play when it comes to sex and relationships – especially between men and women. It’s not even that I care so much about the rules or the protocol (isn’t it most of the fun breaking them, anyway!), it’s more about – how do I put this – “personal energy management”.

There are just so many different theories about the best way to handle oneself in these matters. I have one friend who never hesitates to go for exactly what she wants, and has none of the usual qualms many women have about being assertive when it comes to initiating sex. She is totally hardcore when it comes to satisfying her desires, and has no problem in asking directly for what she wants. Listening to her actually makes me feel like a complete prude. My jaw drops, my eyes widen, I’m like some innocent little Red Riding Hood taking in the tales of the Big Bad Wolf. She just laughs, and tells me that most guys are totally freaked out by strong women, when it comes down to it. They’ll flirt and carry on, but when they are confronted with the opportunity to actually go for it, a lot of them run for their lives. And if that’s the case, she says, they’d be useless in bed anyway.  I blink and nod, rendered speechless simply by the act of trying to comprehend what it would feel like to interact with men in this way. But even though I admire her strength and ballsy attitude, I can’t say this method would work for me. Sure, she often gets what she wants and she doesn’t waste any time about it, but I enjoy the game itself too much to skip so many stages. And what she wants, which is purely physical instant gratification, isn’t exactly what I want (well, not all of the time, anyway)…

What I delight in  is the amazing energy  that is generated when two people are attracted to each other – when  it is felt so acutely, but remains unspoken. Every little intonation, every minute gesture, is amplified so even the accidental  touch of hands  sends an electric current throughout your whole body. The not-knowing-for-sure (but  feeling pretty damn sure at the same time), gives an edge of awareness and intimacy that can never be replicated once things are acknowledged outright. It is like the most delicious secret, something which cannot be captured in words or any other kind of evidence, apart from that which is tacitly experienced between the two of you. Whether anything further happens or not becomes (almost) irrelevant as the energy builds and the game gathers momentum. It is like  adding flavour to a soup’- allowing time for it to grow rich and complex, rather than just gobbling it all down at once. It takes into account the subtleties of human attraction and fine-tunes our capacity to connect to one another in a most exquisitely instinctual way, to allow the rhythm of interaction to emerge naturally and feel the unique nuances of another in relation to our self. It is like surrender and control at the same time: surrender to the divine flow of energy that comes in waves, and control in terms of choosing how much you are going to give and how much you are going to hold back, eliciting different responses every time. One cannot underestimate the value of mystery and intrigue in these situations!

All this is well and good,( indeed, it is way better than good!) but at the same time, playing with this kind of energy can also drive you crazy and completely destroy your ability to focus and concentrate on other matters.

Put simply, if you open yourself to the energy of the universe in this way, you must learn to fly, to swim with the current but not get swept away by it. Dangerous waters, indeed! For those of us who have a natural inclination towards such pleasures and are drawn into the worlds beyond, it is easy to become consumed by our desires and to lose sight of reality. We have to remember to ground ourselves and work within the boundaries of the rational and responsible, to channel our energy into other creative pursuits and make sure it all flows back into the world in some way. I would like to right now admit that I am very, very bad at what I am advising here. I am a total sucker to the siren call, and as long as there is no-one tying me to a mast, I’ve jumped overboard and into the deep before the first note has been sung. I have pictures of mermaids all over the place and rarely stop listening to music that transports me into the place where lovers do what lovers do forever and ever.  But I know all too well how getting lost in these lands can lead to obsession, and what appears at first to be so alluring and so beautiful, can end up  leaving you an emaciated wreck. So  whilst we may want to run away deep into the forest with our lover, we must remember that nothing lasts forever, and that if we try and capture this essence we will, in the very attempt, lose the transient beauty of it’s being.

So  I have learned to  appreciate every moment for exactly what it is, and  enjoy all the subtle beauty of attraction, desire and love in its myriad forms. The energy of spring reminds me that such beauty is everywhere if we are open to it, all we have to do is trust our senses and follow our nose. There are Princes, and there are Kings. Whilst I most definitely still have the Aphrodite  part of me that gets totally  high on the buzz of caffeine and cute boys, I find myself also enjoying the satisfaction in  knowing that I have choice, that I can regulate the current – simply because I realize the energy is there to use and to feel as I will it. As long as I am on this magical journey, I have no rush to reach any particular destination!

It feels like spring (yes, yes, I know it’s still officially winter)- and my little heart’s beating fast! Sure, it could have something to do with the coffee, but still, I know I’m tapping into a bigger energy here. I feel as though finally I  have broken through something and have entered another phase or level of my life, and I’m pretty damn excited. When you work really hard at something, it is gratifying to get results, to feel as though there is a payoff- you want some kind of success. When it’s a specific goal, such as running a marathon or getting a job, it is fairly easy to recognize this moment of success, but when it’s something rather more intangible, such as the development of one’s inner self… well, it can be a little more difficult to define the moment of victory. Indeed, the moments seem to come and go sporadically, surprising you when you least expect it. It is all too easy to let them slip by without acknowledging what they are, but for those of us to whom this kind of work is important, I say, keep conscious so that you do enjoy the harvest of what you have sown.

So, how do we know when this kind of success has been achieved? Well, for me I guess it’s in the feeling that life is flowing easily, and good things are happening – an acceptance and even welcoming of change, of inner peace and opening to the world rather than wanting to retreat from it or be overwhelmed by it. I know it when I snuggle into bed at night with a smile on my face and wriggle my toes like a happy baby in a blissful cocoon of warmth and comfort. When I think of the day I’ve just had and can delight in so many different moments of it. Last night as I was feeling this, a thought of the Nines in the tarot came through – specifically the Cups and Pentacles. Interestingly, the Nines represent the stage of reassessment, and vary enormously between suits. If seen from the perspective of a journey from the Ace through to the completion of the Ten, the Nines show us a fairly late stage of the game, where a lot has already been encountered, and where we are at is reflected back to us.

Interestingly, for those of us who have focussed mainly on the external activities in life, and neglected the inner life of the self, the Nine of Wands shows burden and a sense of resentment. A lot of activity or pursuits which haven’t given us the kind of satisfaction they may have seemed to promise. There is still a lot going on, but it seems devoid of deeper meaning or satisfaction. As the shadow or negative aspect of fire, we see a kind of burn-out – all that energy unable to sustain itself  and a lack of real manifestation. Where to from here? the card seems to ask… an interesting devolution for a suit so initially powerful and full of promise.

The Nine of Swords is classically excruciating – typical of the suit, it shows intense inner anguish or unrest – the torment of the unconscious mind that interferes with our sleep and refuses rest or peace. Whilst the Wands show us the external image, the Swords drive home the futility of thinking we are able to control our subconscious, no matter how good we are at exerting our will and mental control on a conscious level. Again, reinforcing the importance of facing one’s shadow, the fears or things we have not done or said that we know, on a deeper level, that we should have. The nine swords that hang above the tormented figure in this card are a relentless reminder that what we repress inside ourselves does not just magically disappear, and although we may avoid it or ignore it, these ghostly swords will inevitably re-emerge to haunt us if we have not been courageous enough to face the difficulties they represent.

Swords are communication – speaking to others of one’s truth, listening to the inner voice of the self, and doing one’s best to interpret and communicate the truth of the emotional self when it is appropriate. I see the Nine of Swords as the point of near-madness and mental pain that is the result of neglect and denial of one’s deep truth – the person who cannot relinquish control and is terrified of  all they have inside them which makes them vulnerable – those emotions which are messy or don’t make sense or seem to have no resolution. It is the point where they cannot run or hide from the pain they have caused others from their inability to communicate.Yet even now, they do not allow the process of surrender to take place (that happens in the Ten), nor to properly reassess their beliefs about life and face the truth so they can grow – even though all the signs are screaming at them to do so.

Now, in almost direct contrast, the Cups and Pentacles show us the journey of those who have been through struggles and hardships and are finally being rewarded for their efforts.The Nine of Pentacles shows us the ‘self-made’ person who is now surrounded by the tangible rewards of their efforts. The material world around us is the manifestation of our work towards what we truly value, and it is time to enjoy it. For me, it has meant taking responsibility for my financial independence and gradually creating a beautiful home for myself and those with whom I choose to share my space. The element of Earth is crucial in grounding those ideals which I uphold and value, both in terms of nature and also in regard to my personal concepts of beauty. I have planted trees, flowers and herbs, and just last night shared an abundant feast with family and friends from our garden. After many years of feeling displaced and not knowing where ‘home’ really was, I have come now to understand that it is I who create it and nurture it – and it is here, now. Instead of running away from responsibility, of being daunted by financial issues or worried about them, I follow a very simple, practical method of dealing with each day as it comes, and investing in those things which I truly value – and it feels so good!

Finally, in the deep emotional element of Water, the figure in the Nine of Cups shows us someone who is fulfilled by the love that surrounds her/him. There is absolutely nothing as good as the feeling of loving and being loved, and of realizing that through all life’s crazy challenges, you have put your energy into something as worthwhile as relationships with others and also into loving yourself. For me, this card represents exactly how I feel right now – blessed and blissful. I  have honoured my true feelings even when they have been dark and swampy and utterly terrifying. I have done my best to communicate the truth and to hold the cup of love even when it felt like there was a hole in it so big that my soul had surely slipped through and I was utterly empty. I have faced the swords of pain and fought off the ghosts of my own deep fears, even when I wasn’t sure I’d ever make it out of the darkness. Mostly, I felt the opposite of a hero. I felt more like a lost Fool than an enlightened one. Often, I felt like a victim, not being able to comprehend why Love could be the biggest bringer of pain – when Love was all I had to hold onto, all that ever really made any sense. I said and did many things I later regretted or wished I’d done differently. And conversely, I didn’t do a lot of the things I perhaps should have. But the work of the Cups is to delve into the soul and look at oneself, the good, the bad and the ugly, and to bring into birth or consciousness, a sense of self born through love and acceptance, of seeing the lessons inherent in our ‘mistakes’ or pain, and integrating them so we can become better people, better able to love. When one has taken this journey, it is in delight that we find the world reflects back at us our beauty by the people around us, those of a higher vibration and energy which can match our own. We can look around with pleasure at those friendships and other relationships in our life that are truly fulfilling and exciting and real, and know that we are truly reaping the rewards of our chosen journey. And in our hearts, we have the gold of inner peace.

There is an ancient Chinese curse which goes ” May you live in interesting times”. Or so said a guy I met at a party the other night. I looked quizzically at him over the fire, enough for him to explain that in peaceful times things are, well, peaceful. Not much going on, you know… tilling the fields and feeding your family and such. But to be born in times like these, he enthused, well, there’s just so much crazy shit going on that it’s on a wave of insanity we ride – and he loves it! Hmmmmmm… yeah, okay, I’m getting the drift. I love another perspective on life like this. Cursed or otherwise, here we all are in the early part of the 21st Century on the brink of god-knows-what, but it certainly ain’t peace. We live in interesting times.

I’ve spent most of my Monday drinking coffee, talking to the guy next to me in my new favorite cafe, smoking cigarettes, appreciating spiderwebs and making playlists. Having this ‘free’ time is a dubious luxury. I can’t help but get philosophical and wonder about the world. Amy Winehouse has just died and I wonder where her spirit is now. I think of life and death (just for a change). I wonder whether I am ready to pass into the great mystery of the beyond. Is there stuff I still need to do, or say? Does it make any difference at the end of the day? I really don’t know. How I would like things to be and how they are – does this matter?

All the things I am thankful for… the people I love – that’s what comes to mind most. I would love to have the power to make things beautiful and for everyone to have love. I don’t know what to do about the famines and the cruelty to animals and the torture people impose upon each other. The destruction of forests and wildlife. The fickle hearts. The greed and selfishness. I don’t even know how to keep my hands warm so I can keep typing, for god’s sake. But I am grateful… for everything. What a kaleidoscope of colour and splendour and nothingness! I think what I am most thankful for is my children. I am so honoured to have brought them through into this world – what amazing beings they are! Through them I have learned unconditional love. I hope that when death does come, I find a way to keep the link with my loved ones. I saw part two of The Deathly Hallows the other night and how cool was Neville Longbottom when he faced the forces of evil and spoke of death and how we hold those we love in our hearts, and nothing can take that away!

We do live in interesting times. Johnny Rotten said “Fuck the system. Use it when it suits you”. At the cafe I sit at a high wooden table and pick random articles to read from the daily papers strewn about. Death, greed, destruction, lies. Amy was 27, like all the other young sacrificed gods and goddesses of rock’n'roll. I have no problem at all understanding how she may have felt, how the lure to escape from the crazy shit could end in drug and alcohol abuse. I press ‘play’ on my i-tunes and Courtney Love starts singing ‘Hit so Hard’. Kurt Cobain was one of the 27 year-olds. Synchronicity… One by one they all fall down. Melts in my mouth til he’s nothing at all….    Finally the light is dying outside. It seems like one of the longest days ever. I guess when you’re busy working you don’t have time to contemplate and sink into this stuff. I don’t know if there’s any value in it at all, but to those of you who do find yourself in similar situations – hello. It’s raining outside here now, and I don’t mind. Melbourne has it’s winter, and I’m glad. Constant sunshine seems somewhat false to me.

“You tortured little girl, showing them what love is all about” is playing now..

Am I tortured? Am I still a little girl? I don’t know. I think I’m a woman, but who can be sure?

I have beautiful pink roses in my bedroom and I cleaned my altar today. There are red roses around a silver Mexican heart, it’s very pretty. My statue of Aphrodite stands in the middle of my wooden triquetra, surrounded by rose-quartz beads. I’ve burned three black candles and made an offering of cranberries and goji berries in a red glass dish. I do so love red. I wonder about my fascination with gods and goddesses, and at the end of the day, would rather have this than nothing at all. Even if I’ve made it all up, I’m thankful to my imagination and desire and creative longings… being an atheist seems so dull. So streamlined and minimalist. Booooooooring. Nothing against atheists, mind you. Each to their own, and let’s celebrate the diversity of the human condition. Now The Cramps are singing about the Human Fly. God, Lux is gone too. If there is any sense to be made of it all, I guess I’d go with this: that each of our creative pursuits which gives a buzz, a sparkle, to others is worth it. Thank you musicians, artists, all of you who are helping in some way to make life more enjoyable, more real and more beautiful. Thank you. R.I.P. Amy x

Today my mind is a huge tangle of crazy knotted thoughts, and try as I might, I cannot find a single thread to begin with. I guess this particular weekend is an anniversary for me. A death anniversary. A life anniversary. A year to the day since Lilith rose up within me and the screech owl flew free, creating a chaotic end to the life I had been living, and almost killing me in the process. To those of you who are familiar with Her, or are curious, I give you warning now: this Goddess is truly, unconditionally Wild. There is nothing subtle about Her, and if you call on her, if She rises up through you, expect the extreme. She is the one who will destroy all that is not true, but then it will be up to you to sort through the wreckage and see if there is anything left worth picking up and taking with you into the next day.

This time last year I was in bed, unable to move, to hold down even a sip of water, or to even call for help. There was no-one home anyway, just my beautiful cat sitting by my side, silently keeping watch over me. I was in the Underworld, suffering from extreme alcohol poisoning and just wanting to die. Life seemed utterly pointless, a futile and endless calendar of days that led nowhere to nothing. I was sick with wanting a love it seemed I was to be denied, and my very hope in ever finding it had gone. The man I had been in a relationship with for almost five years seemed to not hear, understand or care about me at all, and this was the strong undercurrent that had caught me and taken me out into the dark, tumultuous waters of loneliness. Like Lilith, I found myself in the outer darkness. I wasn’t at all sure whether I had chosen this myself or whether I had been cast out. It was me who had delivered the ultimatum, me who had drawn the line and left in a rage of fury, despair and deep sorrow. Me who had got in my car and driven home in a blackout, stumbled inside blind and thrown up over my bedroom floor.

Drifting in and out of consciousness over the next two days and nights was hell. I was aware that this was my time of reckoning: that I could no longer escape from myself, my pain and my longing, through drinking. I could either die, or face the devastated landscape I had woken up to. There was no turning back, not this time. For so long now, I had tried to find ‘home’ in him, to feel safe and warm and loved. In my deep yearning to feel loved and to love, I had failed to see how I was all the time abandoning my self. Over and over again, running away from my own life and my own soul, and the more I sacrificed, the less I felt any sense of worth. I felt unappreciated, unseen, unheard, as though I was just a ghost of a girl long gone. And it was far from love. It was a desperate tumbling from one day into the next, hoping that somehow, things would change. That he would see me, and in being seen, I would start to feel whole again, to feel real, to be nourished and find peace in being loved. Instead, I felt like a flower slowly withering, petals fading and curling, gradually falling away.

This last year has been a time of coming home. It wasn’t like I found it straight away. All I had in the beginning was a vast, empty landscape. I remember clearly lying on my floor one day and feeling like the only respite I could find was in the thought of death. I didn’t actually want to kill myself, I just wanted not to be caged in my own head, my own body any more. And as I lay there, I became just my skeleton. A breeze blew through my bones, and it felt wonderful – the absolute nothingness of me. No ‘me’ at all. No thoughts, no pain, no desire, no heart, no flesh,  just complete emptiness. Finally I was free from all the craziness of wanting and yearning- there were no regrets, no past and no future. I still give thanks to Death for this profound experience which showed me true freedom.

But of course, Death is not the end. Just like in the cards, it is not the final trump – not by a long shot. It is merely a stage that each one of us is required to pass through, the journey into the dark depths of our own soul. It is a magical moment when Death transforms into peace, when you find yourself in the light embrace of Temperance. This is when I was able to look around me and see all the beauty and love I already had in my life, and decided to honour it. I began to truly appreciate my family and friends, my work and my home. To slow down, to take care of the little things that do matter. To stop rushing around looking for love in all the wrong places, and to just start loving what was right in front of me. I spent more time with my children, realized how I had been given this gift of time with them now before they left home. Finally, I was able to be present, I wasn’t trying to run away or escape in the myriad of ways I had for so long. Being sober, I became present and conscious, aware of others rather than just myself. I stopped going out so much, and just stayed home, putting my energy into those everyday little things like gardening, cooking and eating together. Slowly, my home felt more welcoming to me, I warmed it up with love, and I found a new appreciation for the Earth element. Earth is home. Without this grounding, there is no foundation for anything.

I am not saying for one minute that this was an easy transition, nor that it happened overnight. Far from it! My lovely bones still held a heart… and my skull still contained a rather overcrowded, restless, un-systamized  and fragmented mind. I found it much easier to start taking proper care of my body than I did to take control of my mind and emotions. I could eat well and exercise and feel good, but then I’d suddenly be assuaged by anger, sorrow, regret, jealousy, fear, despair – and whatever else thrown in the mix. What the fuck!!! Realizing that these attacks come from within oneself is perhaps the hardest thing of all to deal with. Very little the outside world could do to me could compare with this inner self-sabotage. I was totally outraged by my own mind doing this to me! Rationally, I wanted to move on, to keep creating this new stage of my life, to let go and all the rest, but emotionally I was totally retarded. Stuck in a loop of destruction that seemed to feed off itself, to enjoy the memories that brought pain and suffering. Not only memories, but worse, my mind seemed to get a real kick out of creating new scenarios, cranking up the imagination to feather the nest of pain. Birthing black eggs of hate and fantasies of revenge.   Earlier, I would have just poured myself a glass of whiskey or wine to shut it down, but now I couldn’t escape it. I smoked. A lot. I ran a million miles on the treadmill and willed it away in my sweat. I wrote epic volumes. I couldn’t paint. Every time I tried I just kept painting the canvas black. I talked, I listened, I read, I tried to hypnotize myself into a better state of being. Do you know how stubborn the mind/emotional being is! How deep the grooves go, that we so unknowingly create by our thoughts? Reprogramming the grid is no easy task, my friend.   I realized I was in the company of the Devil, chained in a masochistic dungeon of my own design – and worse, that it was all me. Hello, Me! (Accompanied by an appropriately wicked Devil’s grin).  Fuck.

Ahhh, the taking of responsibility for one’s self. Gotta love that one.

All the while I worked, kept reading Tarot and taking my Aphrodite’s Temple workshops. Each day, one step at a time. There were moments when I would sit on the tram, staring numbly out the window and wonder, who the hell am I to be helping anyone with anything? I know nothing! My mind would fire poison little darts into my consciousness telling me I had no right to be reading the cards when I hadn’t sorted my own shit out. But, in Gloria Gaynor’s famous words, “I grew strong, I learned how to get along!” and my will to survive kicked in and refused to lay down and die (best break-up song ever). Some days it was literally, just put one foot in front of the other and move. And once I was there in my beautiful little room, I would be okay. I was so grateful to sit there and immerse myself in other people’s stories, forget about my own for a while. Work provided a much-needed structure, and made me see once again, how order is required just as much as creative chaos. I definitely began to have a much deeper respect for cards like the Emperor and the Hierophant as I moved slowly but surely into this more stable and responsible aspect of myself and my life.

I think one of the hardest things is accepting that there are not answers to everything. When there is no satisfying resolution to a situation. After I broke up with aforementioned boyfriend, there was no contact at all. I knew deep inside me that I could not have gone on like that, and indeed I could see that I had been given an opportunity for so much more, but there was still a very real part of me that was screaming inside for answers, to know the truth, whatever that meant. It was only over time that I came to realize there was no such ‘truth’, that we human beings change all the time, that there are a million different ways of perceiving things and that the ‘truth’ , if it exists at all on the emotional plane, is something so complex that to put it into words is a feat beyond most of us. That is the great tangle where even if you do find  a thread, it doesn’t unravel neatly so you can wind it all up into a ball and put it away. Most of the time, we are only aware of such a miniscule part of ourselves, that to try and uncover the truth is a quest beyond futility.  I observed myself, how I could switch from feelings of love and forgiveness and compassion, into anger and pain and hate, and how if I was to try and come up with the truth from all of this, I would be utterly lost. Still, I felt I deserved at least an effort of some sort, after so long and so much in the relationship. To have nothing, not even a word, was hard. I think it is human instinct to want to DO something in situations like this, and the lesson to learn to do nothing, to let go of situations you cannot change or control, was perhaps my greatest one of all – but the one which has taught me dignity and grace.

So, this anniversary of mine marks one year of amazing change, of insight and learning. I am lucky, I have a strong spirituality that has never doubted the existence of a higher power (whatever you want to call it) which I see as  Love, and my life’s mission is to be absolutely immersed in it and filled with it and be connected to all the sea and the stars and the everything.  I have had moments like this, and there is nothing to compare – it is pure bliss, absolute ecstasy.  It is the little light that keeps me going through all of this madness within and without. I am far from through it all, in fact I no longer even view life in terms of reaching a destination, it is much more about adapting and being flexible in terms of whatever happens – of realizing I am not in control of everything, and that the landscape is forever changing. Different cards for different days, deepening my understanding of the Tarot, which is Life.  May blessings explode like fireworks in the deep, dark night skies over all of us.

Now, I know this is officially a tarot blog, and one might not necessarily make the connection between lingerie and the Major Arcana immediately, but I am here to champion the cause of stockings and suspenders as a worthy topic – and I will endeavour to somehow weave this into a justifiable ramble on the merits of both. I have absolutely no idea how I am going to do this, and I am sure there are many more pressing issues our world is dealing with right now that need attention, but I’m in need of a little diversion – so let’s indulge, shall we…

Firstly, as a tarot reader, one is presumed to have a certain image. Maybe it’s the crone, the wise old lady with a little table and a lamp, cats crawling around her skirts as she sits in the semi-darkness to read your fortune. Or perhaps it’s the gypsy woman in the back of a caravan, welcoming you in behind the tassled curtain, scarves and silver hoop earrings. Whatever it is, the image of the tarot reader is not generally equated with that of sex goddess. Wisdom and sexiness for females have usually been portrayed as almost pole opposites, as far as most media is concerned. It’s the total cliche of the sex kitten to be fluffy, pretty, and as vacuous as a blow-up doll. To be wise, perhaps, is to be dangerous in a different way – to see too much or know too much is often perceived as serious- asexual in the way the High Priestess looks in the Rider Waite deck – very like a nun, you’ll agree. I always remember playing a game with my ex, where we listed the five professions we found most sexy – and was somewhat devastated to hear that ‘tarot reader’ wasn’t on his list! He had the typical nurse, librarian, rock chick, bar girl… but no tarot reader. Hello! At least he could have just added it in (at number one!) to make me happy…

I guess what he didn’t realize is that  Reading for someone can be  just like a strip  tease – you reveal just a little at a time, slowly peeling back the layers of perception, offering tantalizing insights and potentialities as yet unrealized!!  An energy exchange takes place between the reader and client which can go as deep or remain as shallow as you like. All the senses are involved in a reading (oh, okay, maybe not taste.. ), including of course, the most exciting sixth sense, which gives you, the reader, the overall ‘feel’ of a person’s energy. The wonderful thing about this kind of work is that it cuts right through the mundane into the magical, and plays with the essence of spirit. How you connect to your client, how open they are to ‘being read’ plays a huge part in how enjoyable and successful any reading will be. While I can read for almost anyone, there is a world of difference between the readings depending on these factors. Some people say they want to know the truth, but are actually far from ready to hear it – for these, a glove peel is enough. You as the reader must be selective and insightful as to how much information to give, and shape how the reading accordingly. Occasionally, you get the client who is on your wavelength, who wants you to go deep and is able to travel with you into the other realms: and this is bliss. To be able to sink into a reading fully, to be able to speak your own language and be understood. It is like listening and singing at the same time, seeing and being seen, harmonizing, it’s a beautiful thing.

The word Arcana actually means secret- as in secret knowledge. To find the treasure, you must first seek it out. I don’t know about you, but I find that most things worth pursuing require a bit of effort, a bit of seeking. Secrets are treasures, delectable and enticing, whetting the appetite for more, promising satisfaction but delaying it, building a sense of anticipation. When you delve into the world of the Tarot, you are on a quest for knowledge, you become the adventuring Fool, exploring life’s mysteries and uncovering deeper meaning in your own life.  You are the agent, the investigator, the navigator of wild terrain. In the Magician, you begin to create from what you have found, to use your tools. Power is born from a sense of self, of one’s own magic. And then as High Priestess, the secret behind the veil is akin to the body beneath the cloak. There is great magic in adorning one’s body, whether it be with paint, jewellery, a crown, or stockings and suspenders. It is a reflection of the desires and beliefs of the self, the manifestation of one’s belonging. For me, the High Priestess is not a nun, she is a powerful woman whose sexuality and spirituality are the twin serpents of the Caduceus, the alchemical blend of order and chaos. She reveals and conceals according to the pristine perception of her Third Eye. She is not to be contained in artificial structures of cultural convention which condone what is proper and what is profane. To be worthy of her you must first be able to find her. Then, as the Angels sing, She keeps no secrets from you.

I have to blame this whole indecent article on my recent obsession with watching ‘Mad Men’. It’s that damn Don Draper and all his secrets beneath that ultra-composed exterior. Totally King of Swords, with an undercurrent of King of Cups that culminates in insatiable desire. And those sex scenes in which every woman is inevitably wearing stockings and suspenders. It’s just ridiculously good!  I found myself tipping out my drawers and untangling my many pairs of stockings, unhooking them from various suspender belts, and sorting them into a state where I was actually able to conceive of wearing them. Systematically separating them from the sock pile and the unmentionable tights, (which are comfortable and sensible enough to guarantee you not feel sexy ever again in your godforsaken existence) I found a pretty hat box to keep them in, and decided that every day for the next month I would wear them, no matter what. Melbourne’s winter may be mean and cold, but wearing these flimsy, silky  little stockings gives me my own private mission, and it feels damn fine. I highly recommend it.

It’s amazing how wearing s&s can transform every day tasks into,  well, not-so-everyday tasks. My favorite so far has been wheeling the rubbish bin out last night, having totally forgotten how short my black skirt was  or how wild my hair was, or how my stocking choice of the day was red fishnets, and as I’d been busy doing housework I hadn’t realized they’d slipped down revealing the suspenders, – until I saw the look on my (very nice, very conservative) neighbour’s face as she was taking her baby and toddler to their car. Music was blasting from the house, my black cat was appropriately guarding the gate, and my stuffed raven fulfilled the picture nicely, hanging on with one wired foot to the gloss black letterbox.  The little three year old just stared at me as though I had stepped out of some forbidden fairytale as her mother hurried her by. No big deal, right. I mean, I would have loved to have a witch living on my street when I was a kid. And I smiled. With a missing tooth. Nah, only joking. With fangs.

It’s funny, such a little thing as stockings and suspenders can shift your consciousness (and your wardrobe! Try working white lace stockings into an outfit without looking like Alice) in so many ways. If nothing else, it definitely shifts you out of a rut. You simply cannot resist the urge to sashay rather than slump. (Think Joan in Mad Men.) S&S are the tools of the Magician, the Secret Weapon of the High Priestess.   A friend told me recently he sees the High Priestess as the sexiest, most potent Witch of all – the snake dancer, entrancer, bewitcher of mere mortal men and keeper of the Key to enlightenment . Guess I made his top five….

How much do I love the feeling of a new tattoo – and new ink on Friday the 13th has just got to be the best thing ever! It is a tradition, apparently, for tattoo parlours around the world to offer special deals on this most auspicious day – most commonly, the “13″ tattoo for $13. How cool is that!  Nothing like a bit of spontaneous action to get the adrenaline pumping, so my friend Megan (a psychiatric nurse who had just come off night shift and was buzzing from no sleep and too much coffee) and I rocked up at Third Eye Tattoos in Brunswick this morning and were first in line for the needle. Neither of us were even sure about where we were going to get it – or even what form the “13″ would take. As it turns out, there was a variety of skulls, daggers, roses and other designs to choose from. Sitting on the couch as a horde of black-clad excited teenagers swamped the front room, I got that rush you get just before you go in, and I decided that the back of my neck was where I wanted this one to go. One design grabbed me immediately, and I didn’t have time to hesitate. No Regrets.

So I guess the swastika is kind of a hardcore choice, no matter which way you look at it, right? Most people in Western culture associate it with Nazi Germany without realizing that it is actually an ancient symbol that has been used in Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism for far longer than the very recent hijacking of it by the Nazi Party during World War 2. Some of the earliest archeological evidence of the swastika on ornaments dates back to the Indus Valley Civilization of Ancient India.  I remember walking around temples in Vietnam and seeing them lined with colourful flags and lanterns with swastikas on them and feeling a sense of connection to the peace, power and order of the design, how differently it appeared in this context. So, having just had my neck permanently inscribed with this controversial symbol, I came home and did a bit more research on it. Turns out my instinct is well tuned once more, leading me along that rainbow to gold… Wikipedia offered this:

The word swastika came from the Sanskrit word svastika, meaning any lucky or auspicious object, and in particular a mark made on persons and things to denote good luck. It is composed of su- meaning “good, well” and asti “to be” svasti thus means “well-being.” The suffix -ka either forms a diminutive or intensifies the verbal meaning, and svastika might thus be translated literally as “that which is associated with well-being,” corresponding to “lucky charm” or “thing that is auspicious.”^[1]

Hellooooooooo Lucky 13! I guess I’m just always going to tend towards the exact opposite of what the mainstream would have us suck up as the truth. They say Friday the 13th is unlucky. Really? Well I wonder whether that might have anything to do with the fact that Friday has always been associated with wild, free Goddesses of Love, such as Frigg, the Norse goddess after whom the day was named? We witches work our love spells on Fridays as the most auspicious day, blessed by Aphrodite and Venus. Sure the Church would have loved that. Black cats – the witch’s familiar – are meant to be unlucky too. Funny, that. Then you have the number 13 – the traditional number of witches in a coven. There are all sorts of philosophies that go into 12 being this perfect number – and I’m sure it has it’s merits – the 12 disciples of Christ (my guess is Mary Magdalene was the 13th!) – but 13 was always a renegade number, difficult to work with, mathematically. Nothing fits into it neatly. It’s odd. Outcast. Even in faerytales it’s the 13th witch that wasn’t invited to the Christening that curses the baby as a result – the hag, the Crone, the old woman with powers that are not easily understood and therefore feared.

To me Thirteen is the sacred number of those who don’t fit into the conventional scheme of things. The artists (especially street artists), philosophers, free-thinkers, rock’n'rollers, any minority group, those without power or privelege. Those who must go underground to survive, the keepers of secrets, those who hold an ideal of a better world and don’t endorse the power-structures that oppress and destroy. Or those who just have their mojo, who are stylin’ it on the streets with their cooooooool tattoos. I guess it’s about reclaiming the symbols that we love, the representations of who we are, and having the courage to do so despite entrenched and unquestioned beliefs. Marks of identification.