Archive | Age Matters

Halloween Tarot Marathon (10/30)

This weekend marks the 12th anniversary of my Ruby Intuition practice. As the descendent of a long line of Jewish, Scottish, and Salem, Mass, witches, I’ve been clairvoyant since I was a kid. But it wasn’t until Halloween 2009 that the genius chefs of Brooklyn’s Saltie (RIP) hosted my first-ever tarot salon. Nervously nipping Powers whiskey—Becks relabelled the bottle “Psychic Powers” in her beautiful block letters—I dressed in gauze and gold and pulled tarot cards on their little bench, reading for many, many wonderful souls for whom I still consult today.

Since then I’ve learned a lot (including not to drink while giving readings) and have been honored to serve as conduit, mirror, and medium for your extraordinary transformation. My clients’ activation of joy, growth, and integrity gives me heart amid the great upheaval of our world. To celebrate, from 9am-6pm EST tomorrow (10/30) I’ll be giving the exact sort of tarot readings I gave that day. This is a one-time-only event.

Here’s how it works: Pick one category—1. Spirituality/Wellness 2. Love/Romance 3. Work/Money—and I’ll draw tarot cards to see what’s showing up in that part of your life. These 30-minute $55 sessions are Zoom or audio (your choice), and activate your intuition and optimal path, as well as supportive guides, ancestors, and highest selves. I’ve designed separate spreads for each category, and you are welcome to book more than one reading if you seek insight in more than one. ()

This is one of the most powerful times of the year. I am always awed by what—and who!— comes through, so I hope to read for as many people as possible. For old time’s sake, let’s lift the veil together.

Book a Halloween tarot reading. For deeper digging and longer timelines (including astrological perspectives), book an intuitive reading.

Red Is the Color of My Bloody, Bloody Heart

The last time I had sex, I lost my red glasses though I didn’t know it at the time. If I did, I doubt I would have lingered too long on the symbolism. It would have been too bald.

What aren’t you seeing? Everything you don’t want to see.

I did not realize the glasses were missing until three days after the sexual interlude. I rotate through many pairs depending on how I want to look as I look upon the world.

On the day I lost this pair, I was wearing all red. Not the dark, dried-blood shade that feels like a waste of a good thing, but the orange-inflected tomato that enlivens the Sioux and Semitic strains of my DNA. The red that makes my hair and skin glow.

I wear it when I wish to activate myself and everyone around me.

I have many, many tubes of lipstick in this color. I wear it even when I am wearing a mask. This red exudes a power not merely visual. An energy frequency that’s maybe even a microwave ray. Havana Syndrome: the lipstick edition. Continue Reading →

Cauldron Cuisine

Before Instagram took the fun out of writing descriptions of the meals I was cooking, before Facebook fully revealed itself as an evil degenerator of democracy, I used to write about the big meals I was cooking, not to show off so much as to metaphorically invite everyone into my kitchen. Tonight I have that same urge. So here’s what.

Short ribs were on massive massive sale at Whole Foods, whose weekly emailer I scan like my grandmother Alice clipped coupons from the Sunday paper. I bought four pounds of them, figuring that as long as it remained cloudy I could pretend it was 45 rather than 65 degrees and freeze the leftovers for colder weeks to come. And so, with Mercury retrograde as the perfect excuse to stay far from the madding crowd, I put on an apron and the Bach cello suites my gran discovered she adored while listening to the radio in her own kitchen.

I salt-and-peppered the ribs, chopped parsnips and potatoes and carrots and onions and garlic, created a braise with horseradish and rosemary and thyme and mustard and tomato paste and vinegar, and filled my apartment–my whole building, really–with the meal she would have fed her family in 1955. When her children were all under one roof, when her husband was working in the textile mills down the street, when her sister lived next door with her two girls and a big apron of her own, when all she had to do was fill a big pot and wind her timer, then tuck in with a juicy novel from another country and century as her family grew all around her.

This time between autumn and winter equinox is always about the ancestors–about the worlds they inhabited and the legacies they left—and it feels good to cook in congress with my line. Another way to say it: I’m grateful to visit my gran.

To tap into your ancestral or personal timeline, book an intuitive reading.

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