I need a month–nay, a week!–in which no one who obviously needs therapy tells me that they don’t need therapy because they do iowaska. I am an intuitive, and absolutely believe in the revelations offered by such experiences. But I also believe in the rigor and incremental changes of regular old therapy. God knows the work I do only increases my need for it. Continue Reading →
This morning I read an article about a new French law restricting the times in which work emails can be sent by employers. A communication ban is very classic Mercury retrograde—even more classic than yesterday’s Brooklyn train crash, which, thank goddess, resulted in nothing worse than broken limbs but which held up an evening’s worth of LIRR commuters. But the more I contemplate such a law, the more genius I find it. Imagine if there were a cap on the amount of time people could spend on social media or online, period. More books would be read, more eyes would be met, more gardens would be tended, more in-person sex would be had. Revolutions would be brewed–ones we need to survive as a society, frankly. What say ye, Sirenaders? Unplug, unplug, unplug. (I’ll still be here when you come back.)
Mercury Retrograde entered Sagittarius today and we’re already suffering from a surplus of sass. In this aspect, we tend to spray it rather than say it, polluting the environment with unchecked, ill-advised expression of our every bad feeling. There’s good stuff too—the impetus to mediate on your relative freedom is no small thing—but the blurting and general bad manners take a toll. Even doodles have an edge. (See pic.) So give your inner tantruming child a time-out and plenty of outdoor space in which she can tucker herself out. Goddess knows I’m doing so until this communication planet goes direct January 8.
I need a month–nay, a week!–in which no one who obviously needs therapy tells me that they don’t need therapy because they do iowaska. I am an intuitive, and absolutely believe in the revelations offered by such experiences. But I also believe in the rigor and incremental changes of regular old therapy. God knows the work I do only increases my need for it. Continue Reading →
This morning I read an article about a new French law restricting the times in which work emails can be sent by employers. A communication ban is very classic Mercury retrograde—even more classic than yesterday’s Brooklyn train crash, which, thank goddess, resulted in nothing worse than broken limbs but which held up an evening’s worth of LIRR commuters. But the more I contemplate such a law, the more genius I find it. Imagine if there were a cap on the amount of time people could spend on social media or online, period. More books would be read, more eyes would be met, more gardens would be tended, more in-person sex would be had. Revolutions would be brewed–ones we need to survive as a society, frankly. What say ye, Sirenaders? Unplug, unplug, unplug. (I’ll still be here when you come back.)
Mercury Retrograde entered Sagittarius today and we’re already suffering from a surplus of sass. In this aspect, we tend to spray it rather than say it, polluting the environment with unchecked, ill-advised expression of our every bad feeling. There’s good stuff too—the impetus to mediate on your relative freedom is no small thing—but the blurting and general bad manners take a toll. Even doodles have an edge. (See pic.) So give your inner tantruming child a time-out and plenty of outdoor space in which she can tucker herself out. Goddess knows I’m doing so until this communication planet goes direct January 8.