Archive | Spirit Matters

Of Sinkholes and Safety Nets

Today I was officially approved for Medicaid. I have no shame about it; am just grateful it’s an option. Next year I turn 50 and though I have great faith in my ability to heal through alternative healing modalities I know that if have a health catastrophe it’ll be helpful to have a safety net of some sort.

If I’m being honest it’s been 10 years since I’ve been insured-that’s the time that’s elapsed since I’ve held a salaried job. Since then I’ve I’ve been unwilling to pony up a hefty percentage of my monthly nut for such a broken system. I don’t like bureaucracy. I don’t like western medicine and its incredibly limited scope and solutions. I don’t like hierarchal bullshit of any sort, especially as applied to areas of vulnerability.

When I was in my 20s I underwent a significant health crisis. My lifelong eating disorder had become so protracted that by the time I’d addressed the psychological underpinnings of the disease I’d developed severe autoimmune and digestive disorders. Down to 85 pounds, I’d sustained significant cardiovascular damage and a stomach that no longer produced hydrochloric acid, which meant I couldn’t metabolize nutrition.

Then as now I was un-insured but in the mid-’90s you still could see a doctor if you were willing to pay out-of-pocket. So I ran through the minimal savings I’d accrued as a labor organizer to get shuffled from shitty doctor to shitty doctor–undergoing expensive torture-chamber tests (pro tip: never get a endoscopy without getting knocked out first), and getting prescribed boatloads of medication that severely compounded my issues.

Eventually I took matters in my own hands, cast a spell to manifest the right health allies, and began to work with an osteopath and naturopath who were more effective healers of chronic illness than any western medical specialist I’ve encountered. From this experience I realized that only I fully knew my body and its capabilities. This is a lesson we are never taught, as the displacement of our inner resources–the dissociation from our strengths and self-love–is crucial to capitalist culture. Continue Reading →

The Church of Mother May I

I had it all planned I was going to watch the sun rise this morning from the Manhattan side of the East River, down at John Lindsay River Park. (Talk about a throwback of a reference.) Still delightfully depleted from May Day intuition readings, I felt a little too weary for such a strident call time. But even during Quarantime, Sunday is the only time when you can park anywhere in New York City, so my alarm was duly set.

Instead I woke to a soft rain coating everything and Grace’s little nose twitching as it does when she senses something extra fine. Her nose always knows, because the air smelled better than I remember it ever smelling in NYC–fresh, fresh, fresh, with none of that metallic rot that’s prevailed over the last 10, nay, 20 years of eco-terrorism. The peonies and lilacs by my bed only made the air finer.

So no sunrise, but coffee in bed, familiar and witch basking in the sweet smells and sounds–in the dueling songs of starlings, doves, pigeons cheerfully waging turf wars.

After you-hoo, I insist.
Oh, no, after coo-coo-you!

Only after I drank a second cup as well a big glass of lemon water–and, oh, sure, the last shrimp taco from Saturday supper–did I know how I felt and what was needed.

Which is to say: There’ll be no non-churchy church services this afternoon because this feels like a Sunday to receive rather than download information. And in Mother Mary May, we don’t heed quaranTime. We heed soul time.

If you have the means and time, dig your digits into some soil, unplug your devices, and fly in that sky inside you. Then next Sunday, let’s share what we find.

It’ll be Mother’s Day, about which many of us have complicated feelings. So we’ll reclaim this Hallmark holiday–give it back to Mother May, Mother Earth, the Mothers we carry within us. More than that, we’ll celebrate the divine feminine principle.

Til then, if you wish to gift a Mother’s Day reading to yourself or a loved one, book here. I bid you a peony-scented start to a beautiful week.

May Day in All Its Glorious Glory

Happy, happy May Day!

Neruda said: “You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.” This applies especially to this holiday, whose glory is not even diminished by the COVID-19 and Capitalism viruses. Indeed, this entire month is one of abundance, creativity, and divine feminine magic.

May Day—and all of Taurus season—also honors the power of real work. So it makes perfect sense that today is also International Workers’ Day. I send love and gratitude to all in service, especially our essential workers. May we support those on the front lines every way we can—including by striking. And while our land, our lives, our economy shifts is shifting from transactional to reciprocal, may we find ways to activate our best selves as well, ideally by finding and developing our individual callings.

To clear that path, beautify a corner of your homestead. Clean out something that’s needed to go for a while. Dance in lovely clothes (or none at all) to music that really moves you. Rub rose and lavender oil in your hair and on your skin. Drink wine!

And if you’ve been considering an intuition reading, book one for yourself or a loved one in the month to come. Let this Mother Mary Month shine light on our every shadow!

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