Alchemical Tarot — Nine of Pentacles
Our scene is a golden afternoon, bathed in warm sunlight. Our heroine’s golden robe glows. Fat red grapes hang ripe all over her fertile vineyard.
She matches the King of Pentacles: both mature, wise about their self-made professional lives, good in their skins, calm about their relationships with the world, and both ultimately responsible to no one but themselves. However, although her values, her drives, and the results she ultimately achieves harmonise with his, she acts as his polar opposite. His masculine energy is soldierly, linear, stone and armor as his foundation, building on…
Alchemical tarot — five of wands
Hello from the hot mess of the Odd Shoe Gang!
Nobody ever got anywhere or learned anything by sitting alone in an empty room. No matter how tantalising the concept of “I’ll sit with this idea and figure it out.” People learn by doing. And progress is not a linear, tidy, goal-directed process. Growth is not a heat-seeking missile. …
The King of Pentacles! The perfect card for the Year of the Metal Ox! How can we channel this Made Man?
This King is covered with the sweet fruits of his own enterprise, the glossy grapes of his robes flowing into his mature vineyard, where he sits, grounded on a stone throne, enjoying the golden sun.
This King is a self-made man, a lifelong entrepreneur, and a connective yet ultimately self-reliant visionary. He has spent his life developing the relationships and resources he needs to realise his goals, and has turned his experiences into solid gold.
He didn’t inherit his…
But then his butt changed everything.
He bent over.
His jacket slipped up a bit and the belt of his pants slipped down a bit.
That glimpse of curving muscular ass replete with cleft, and not even one hint of a boxers waistband, deafened me to his words.
He straightened up and turned around. “ — And that’s how you could fix that.”
I wanted to say something smart about Gears, to show I was paying attention. But his eyes were so blue.
Somehow I managed to wrest my attention away from his lips that were so kissable. I…
L’Inferno di Dante
Translation Jordana del Feld
At the midway point
In the path of our lives,
I discovered myself inside an undiscovered forest
And the easy way had escaped me.
My thoughts created
A fearsome, black, and wild wood
That hurt me so deeply
My manifold words struggled in silence.
So much darkness and bitterness happened within me
That my story is more dead than alive,
But for the grace of the spark of life that guided me through it
I will share it with you.
You and I might laugh at me in retrospect,
Does crisis change the line in the sand for assault or not?
I would have tapped my juicy young friend “Adam” in a hot minute, like the cougar I am, long ago, if he weren’t in a Serious Long Term Cohabiting Monogamous Relationship.
Very Serious Indeed.
So serious, there were Questionnaires. And White Board Charts. And Hours of Mutual Soul Searching.
When had I gotten too old for that kind of Seriousness?
Adam told me that he was failing to “give back” sufficiently. …
This morning I made Siege Soup. It was not what I had planned. I made it out of what was in the house. But it was more delicious than anything I could have found in a recipe.
This is how you make Siege Soup.
— I put the remainder of the olive oil I’d bought at the Arab grocery store into my pot.
— A splash of the olive oil I bought at the department store because it called itself “pepper” oil and swore on the bottle that it was spicy, but then it totally was not, it turned out…
I walked past my favourite tapas place, the one with the lantern-lit garden. It was closed for the Plague. Vandals had already scrawled graffiti all over it. My Berlin-adjusted eyes noted the difference between “everyday misguided guerilla public art graffiti” and the more sinister, bullying, derelictifying graffitti that grew like poisoned fungus all over any place that dared reveal vulnerability in These Uncertain Times™.
The garden had already fallen into disarray and instead of lanterns, there was a carpet of litter.
I looked on the bare grey tree branches, naked in the cold morning light, holding court over broken refuse…
“I was thinking of calling it Love in the Time of Cholera,” Rapunzel said, as she tossed the crossbones. “ — Check. Your move.”
Bianca handed over one of her bones, cursing under her breath. “Already been done,” she said.
Her bones landed wrong. “Bloody hell.”
She handed Rapunzel another one of her bones. “ — You’re creaming me.”
She took another slug of rum.
Rapunzel smiled. “Double or nothing?”
Rapunzel rolled her bones. Bianca glowered, as Rapunzel won the game and raked all the bones in. Bianca sighed and handed over a fistful of gold doubloons.
Transform your business by transforming one word.
Goodbye “mindset.” Hello “mindflow.”
You’re teetering on the edge of the precipice, exhausted, bleeding, one breath away from hurtling five thousand feet down into to the flaming lava pit of starving crocodiles behind you, clinging to the turf only by the toes of your left foot, while still heroically fighting the glowering one-eyed behemoth towering over you. And all you’ve got to fight the behemoth with is a trembling, pink, naked prefrontal cortex in one hand, and an Inspirational Kitten Poster emblazoned with the cheery words, “HANG IN THERE!” in the other.