Archive | Ruby Intuition

The Church of Gentle Luxury

I’m sitting with Grace by the window in a treasure trove of sunlight and clouds–of white fur and pleather cubes, and a sapphire velvet chaise lounge draped with blue-flowered and animal-printed pillows and throws. Joni is spilling over both of us and I’m trying to figure out which of us—me, Grace, maybe even Joni–fashioned this little alcove. The question fills me with more pleasure than the morning already has. Which is a lot, actually.

It sounds ridiculous, suggesting my cat arranged fabrics and furniture to create this robin’s egg dreamscape by the window. Can’t you see her dragging everything in her cunning little teeth? But if she didn’t actively arrange this child’s dream turned inside out, she certainly inspired it with her perfectly composed paws, her caramel stripes and gleaming eyes. With how she absorbs and exudes beauty.

God I love her. I have zero idea how I’d do intuition work or anything else without her practicalmagic, anything without her reikitty paws-on healing.
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Now We Must Listen

Here in the last stretch of Mercury Retrograde, which officially ends March 10, we are mere weeks from Ostara (March 19)–the astrological new year as well as the beginning of spring, glorious spring. During this quiet nascent time, the line between death and life is as blurred as the line between winter and spring. Notice it in the stirring of the air, suddenly fresher, suddenly sweeter; in the quality and length of daylight; and at dusk–magic hour, my favorite hour, when we are held by everything to come as well as what’s come before.

It is as Alexander McCall Smith writes: The voices of the dead—you can hear them still, if you listen hard enough. Late people talking, like children after lights-out: the faint, distant voices of our ancestors.Now is not the time to act. It is the time to listen–to the earth, to the ancestors, to each other. For any true-soul guidance in these dark times.

March into the Future, Bird by Bird

I’ve learned that there will always be a next time, and that I will submerge in darkness and misery, but that I won’t stay submerged. And each time something has been learned under the waters; something has been gained; and a new kind of love has grown.—Madeleine L’Engle

Hello March! Sometimes, especially in the dreary last days of winter, my clients want to hear about a future that is magically better than their present. It’s human nature to crave a “Santa Clause.” But the truth is that our lives are a mixture of fate and free will—-the culmination of our choices in the face of factors beyond our control.

And entropy is change, too. To avoid it we must work our problems as we sow seeds and till fields. Sun rises, sun sets, but only when we consciously channel its light do we grow something from our shit. This is practical magic at its core–change we manifest rather than passively await and observe. This is love as a verb. This is the self-reckoning that is the foundation of radical self-care.

How I can help is to divine a path on which you thrive—-marching bravely forward (bird by bird step by step) into a future conjured with the good wind of the universe on your back.

To find a path of your own, get in touch. Art (left-right); Jacob Lawrence, Horace Pippen.

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