Archive | Astro Matters

Summer Solstice Shine

Everyone has a favorite time of year. Mine is Summer Solstice, or Litha, as it’s called in Celtic circles. (That it sounds like  my name lisped is pure coincidence.) I gratefully accept the lessons that shadows teach us, but most embrace our Mother Sun’s beautiful light. Today she shines longest and brightest upon our lives—revealing who we truly are, not merely how we seem. This is a day of abundance, of lush greens and fresh blooms, of native caresses and first communions. It is a day of planting and harvesting, of seed and flower—of closing the gap between hope and manifestation, fundamentally. The best part? All we need do is breathe in this magic. If you want to get super fancy about it, light a yellow or orange candle, burn some sage, or just murmur your wishes into this eternal light. Divine mama does the rest.

Our Lunar Tides, Our Selves

I know menstruation is one of the few taboo topics on social media (cockocracy!) but today I cried over the Comey hearing, a late-’90s Julia Roberts film that will go unnamed (ok, Stepmom), a certain permakitten when she rested her chin on my toe, and the fact that my dress wasn’t ready at the tailors. Tonight’s potent full moon is not helping, nor is our massive Constitutional crisis. Overall, though, I just need to (insert verb, Mad Libs-style) already. Our periods are a blessing for which I am all the more grateful since I realized mine was an endangered species. But the period before our periods blows as hard as our alleged president–very, very hard.

Lady-Made Nature

I had another bad writing day–can I write a book? is this something that should even happen?–so I put on my raincoat and sailed into this stormy day to look at paintings. Fine arts is a relatively new fascination for me. My mom has a BFA from Massachusetts College of Arts so I always focused more on film and literature (and fashion, who am I kidding?). Recently, though, I’ve really fallen in love with the rainbow time capsule offered by painting and, to a lesser degree, sculpture; I’ve even written critical essays about a few key shows this year.

I went to the Rachel Uffner gallery to ogle “Same Space, Different Day,” an exhibition featuring the paintings of Shara Hughes, who captures the glee of childhood with an old soul scope and a punkrock fairytale palette. Man o man, do I love her work. I first noticed it a year ago–she doesn’t live far from me in the Williamsburg-Greenpoint neighborhood of Brooklyn–and today was lucky enough to talk to Ullner herself about what makes Hughes unique to people far savvier than me. Continue Reading →

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy