For many of us, July 4th doesn’t feel like cause for celebration so much as cause for revolution. The “independence” this holiday commemorates was originally intended only for the appallingly small percentage of us deemed fully human by the Founding Fathers. More and more, we’re dealing with the fallout of this rotten foundation. 2021’s Uranus Square Saturn —AKA that conflict between progress and calcified regimes—is forcing the hand of white supremacist patriarchy. I like this disruptive energy only for the beautiful change it can invoke—if we do the necessary shadow work. So today I’m not BBQing nor flag-waving. I’m tuning into the heavens on behalf of progress and anyone serving it.
Image: “Free America,” Kerry James Marshall
Is getting a reading scary?
I’m a big believer in coffee with cream. By this I mean that I ensure the delivery of information is loving, diplomatic, and occasionally amusing. Do I see illness, death, betrayal? Sometimes, because that’s part of the human condition. But you can rest assured that while I never lie, I only share what you need to know at the time of our session and I always do so gently. I’ve never liked massages that are so tough-love that they tense rather than relax muscles, and I’ve never endorsed truth bombs that make us dread our future. We’re supposed to enjoy this business of being alive!
Will I find out when I or someone I love is going to die?
Nope, for reasons described above.
Do I have to believe in God or some higher power for this to work?
I firmly believe we’re all part of a “whole greater than the sum of its parts”–whether you call this energy God, the Universe, Yahweh, Allah, the Divine Feminine, or something or someone else. I also believe this energy is the source of my intuition. But you don’t have to believe that. You just have to show up with an open mind. Continue Reading →
I felt anger rise when you’d regale me with endless stories of your family—the spats, foibles, boasts masked as kvelling. I would have loved to have loved to listen but you never even learned my parents’ names. It took a decade for you to learn my full name.
I felt anger rise when you said I was deluging you with my life. You never asked questions but rattled on about yours, deleting only the parts that would cast you in an unseemly light.
Such as: the other ladies.
Such as: who really paid your bills.
Ten years before, the last time I saw my parents, I told them I had recently ended it with someone. It was the first of our many breakups, and the wound was fresh. Continue Reading →