Navigation

Archive | Essays

The Artist’s Way

May 27, 2020 in Art Matters, Astro Matters, City Matters, Country Matters, Essays, Ruby Intuition, Spirit Matters

As businesses and beaches slowly (and not so slowly) re-open, I’ve been thinking about artists as essential workers.

We’d have lost our minds this spring were it not for movies, TV, books, DJ sets, Zoom dance parties, all sorts of creativity. This tracks, because artists always have been the ones to lead us out of chaos by dancing on the precipice between order and disorder, and combining holy patience with holy impatience. It’s a vital model, for to rise wholly (and holy) from this viral dis-ease–to effect conscious, constructive change–we must reject the 21st century, post-industrial concept of linear time in which every hour, minute, second (and nanosecond) has been scheduled and over scheduled. Instead, we must embrace the lessons of our Covid-19 tesseracts, and continue to rest, to look and listen mindfully, to practice gratitude and economy, and above all: to create.

For art was never meant to be consumed and collected the way capitalism has taught us. Instead, we are each meant to process our unique joy and pain through creative expression—be that baking, sewing, sowing, singing, spreadsheeting, painting, witching, writing, whatever suits us sustainably and beautifully.

To be an artist is to be a spirit worker, social changer, chaos wrangler, and time traveler—and we all must be artists now. This is a key lesson of Venus Retrograde in Gemini. And this is a key lesson of this Wrinkle in Time.

For a reading or ritual to activate your own creativity, book here. Art: High as Fuck, an open-air quarantine creation by Josh Smith, courtesy of David Zwirner Gallery.

My Queendom for Your Ragu

May 18, 2020 in Age Matters, Cat Lady Matters, City Matters, Essays, Feminist Matters, Food Matters, Queer Matters

All day long my downstairs neighbor–a 78-year-old woman from Campania–has been cooking an indescribably delicious-smelling tomato sauce. Mikey and Paulie, my Muppet critic pals from the coffee shop, call this woman one of the “black stockings” of our East Williamsburg neighborhood where they have lived since birth. By this they mean she is one of the older Italian (not Italian-American) women who scream at their philandering husbands all day, every day, in between cooking delicious-smelling tomato sauces and attending Mass not once a week but twice a day. On this point my Muppet critic friends are right as they so often are.

(The only times they are wrong is when they insist on my need for a bicycle, I mean a man. Yes I am the fish in this equation.)

It makes me laugh to see my downstairs neighbor all demure in the hallway, given that those daily fights with her philandering husband are so loud my intuition clients can hear them in our Zoom sessions. I reported him when he made moves on me, so she refuses to share her delicious cooking even when there is not a raging pandemic. Long ago I accepted this as fair exchange for not having to play nice with a sex offender, but today that sauce is torturing me. All I want is to sit at someone else’s table and eat a big bowl of home-cooked pasta and cheese and tomato sauce that magically appears in front of me. I want gnocchi, lasagna, ravioli, penne, fettuccine. Marinara, ragu, puttanesca, carbonara. Focaccia. Broccoli rabe. Arugula. Spicy olives. Polenta. Arancini di riso. I want to wash it all down with a big glass of red. And I do not want to wash the damn dishes.

Essentially I want an Italian mother–or an Italian wife.

Astro PSA: Venus Retrograde

May 14, 2020 in Astro Matters, Country Matters, Essays, Ruby Intuition, Spirit Matters

Outside Me

I always tell Ruby Intuition clients: I may deliver information with a heavy dollop of cream, but I never lie. So let me be honest: This is one of those moments when I wish I were a bullshit artist. Because this Venus Retrograde, which began Monday and will affect us until July, promises to be a doozy.

Venus rules all loving resources—everything connected to matters of beauty, the heart, and money. So what happens when such a planet is taken out of the equation? Occurring every 20 months and lasting for six weeks (10 if you count its notoriously long shadow), its retrograde compels us to reevaluate our issues around intimacy, worth, beauty. Usually this amounts to movie flops, regrettable haircuts, the resurfacing of old lovers, zits, breakups, and frozen bank accounts—basically, tons of romantic and financial drama, as well as aesthetic faux pas. But because we’re all sheltering in place and this retrograde is taking place in Gemini, which governs communication and technology (o the irony), we’re in for a very fucking wild ride.

We’re already on Month 2 of being profoundly unkempt. We’re already on Month 2 of a stressful incubation with whomever we’re stuck with—including ourselves. And we’re already at on Month 2 of widespread unemployment and Illness with a federal government that does not give a fig about the 99 percent. Things are about to get downright desperate.

Inside Me (dirty)

So what’s the fix? Nothing short-term. But we may begin the long and arduous process of unlearning materialism, including transactional attitudes around love and friendship. For this may be the impetus we need to accept the glory of our unadorned selves–those indoor selves we’re all debuting–and move into a true economy of love. Yes, that sounds like a lot of bollocks. But like I said: I don’t lie. So dry your tears, wash your face, and let your un-dyed, un-styled locks fly. I’m here if you need me. Better yet: So is your own best self.

For an intuition reading for yourself or a loved one, book here.

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