On the Road to the Next Chapter

"On the Road" by Liz
This is the view to the Pacific Ocean from where we live.

I arrived at work one lovely San Francisco morning six months into my last job, and a company-wide voicemail message announced a merger and public offering.  What came next was a year and a half of merger angst and position dismantling, inclusive of workplace ambiguity, a viral and almost pathological disregard for common workplace respect, intense trepidation, and then interview interrogation.  By the time they laid me off a week ago, I was relieved.  I’ve been through a merger in the past, but the difficulty I experienced here was epic, making this the most difficult period in my career.

This week has been about de-stressing and decompression, an on-going process, I’m sure.   I had no idea I was so wound up.  I’ve slept a lot as my inner workings reassemble, and the strangest thing keeps happening.  I might be standing in the hallway when I have a random office memory.  My muscles tighten up and I get a sick feeling in both my head and heart.  This is what I felt like for a year, and why I was in so much physical pain all the time.  I had to repress these feelings to work.  Then, I remind myself it’s a thing of the past , the tightening and sickness subsides, and I feel relieved and surprised; giddy even.  This gets less intense each day.

The last time I went through a period of unemployment, we were in Connecticut.   I left a job in San Francisco after 19 years because my career had stalled.   We sold our house in South City just before the real estate industry tanked and moved across country.  We had fun for a while, furnishing the house and all that, until the novelty wore off.  When it was time to go back to work, I discovered the job market had followed the housing market into the toilet, as well.  Even the market in New York City was tight.  It was a half year before I found a crappy position that paid less than half what I was making in San Francisco and was boring as hell.  I predicted we would return to the Bay Area precisely one year later, and that we did.

My job right now is to unwind, get my head together, and find my balance.  As the present evolves, I gain greater objectivity.  Looking back, I have no regrets.  I’m pleased I had the strength to stand up for myself at work when it became necessary.  I imagine kowtowing or kissing ass might have increased my chances for continued employment, but I just don’t have it in me.   Thank goodness.  Instead, I’ve completed a life cycle; a turbulent one that has created personal and professional strength in me, and I’m preparing for the next chapter.

The difference between this and Connecticut is that I’m in the place I love.  The Bay Area is beautiful and action packed.  I’m reminded of this each time I see the Pacific Ocean in the panoramic vista just down the street.  Tomorrow will take care of itself, but in the meantime, I’m going to make the most out of every moment.

There is, however, one thing I can state with absolute certainty.

The next time I hear the word “merger”, I will, without a doubt, run screaming in the opposite direction.

Create Peace: More on Cyber-Bullying

Create Peace

Read the first post on this right here!

From where we sat in the van watching our daughter leave school grounds, Leslie and I could tell Elizabeth had a good day and was in a good mood.  We were so relieved.  


We're in the midst of our first experience with cyber-bullying, the details of which are here.

When I called the school’s principal, I didn’t know if he would support me or blow me off.  The truth is school administrators have no responsibility over what students do on their own time, and so cyber-bullying and other negative activity on the internet falls into a grey area school administrators don’t have to be bothered with.  But, this principal took notes on my concerns during our conversation.  He asked me questions, wanted details, and said he’d reach out to Elizabeth at school, even though there was a good chance she would be hesitant to say anything.

They met with Elizabeth just before the last class of the day.  He brought one of his guidance counselors, a woman, to break the ice, and in fact, she did most of the talking.  They went into all of Elizabeth concerns, including the teachers and how mean they are.  They asked if she wanted to come to school, and she gave them an honest answer:  No.  She spoke truthfully about her feelings, including who she thought left those nasty messages on Formspring.   Our daughter wasn’t threatened by their conversation, and she very well could have been (in which case she’d have clammed up big time), so I know they did the job right. 

I’m glad I called the principal.  Even though Elizabeth said she didn’t want us to interfere, I can see how important it is to her that we did.   We also decided to leave her Formspring account just the way it is. 

Eighth grade haters, beware.

We’re on to you now.

Eighth Grade Cyber-Balderdash

Well, it finally happened.  Elizabeth has been attending school for 10 years including pre-K and this is the first time we’ve encountered cyber-bullying that is intense enough to get us involved.  It happened on Formspring, which for 8^th graders is like glazed donuts to a diabetic; irresistible but deadly.  Formspring isn’t like Facebook.  On Formspring, anyone can leave anonymous posts unless you've tweaked your account to prevent it (and most folks don’t know it’s possible).  On Facebook, everyone knows who you are, so haters leave major insults at their own risk, which means, most of the time they don’t bother.

I was first introduced to Formspring by a high school age student we know in Connecticut.  She is a Facebook friend who posts links to her Formspring dialogue regularly.   It is disturbing.  Boys ask for a blow job, and she LOL’s.  Girls call her slut, whore, and douchebag, and she LOL’s that, too.  We mentioned what was going on to her mother and haven’t heard from her mom since. I guess when she said, “Let me know what’s happening online”, she didn’t really mean it.

Formspring Sucks!

Elizabeth is attending 8^th grade in a school that is 85 percent Asian.  So, on top of the usual 8^th grade dramatics, she takes considerable flack for being white.  Ironically, she NEVER takes any abuse for having two moms.  She’s been accused of trying to act Asian, dress Asian, and taking Asian boys away from Asian girls.  This is a lame insult, if you know Elizabeth.  She is extremely sensitive to any kind of racism, and doesn’t hesitate to get in our faces if even remotely Archie Bunker-like words slip from our lips.  Have you ever been lectured by a 13 year old?

Last night, someone posted a verbal assault on Elizabeth's Formspring profile. By 8^th grade standards, it was epic. Elizabeth discovered it just before climbing into bed, and she was devastated.   The hater covered her breasts, her body type, her sense of humor (how she paints a mustache on her finger and holds it under her nose), her standards of friendship, personality, and then capped on her for hanging out with another group of kids who reported hate her now, too.  Of course, she was also accused, once again, of wanting to be and acting like ... yes, you guessed it, an Asian.

Leslie and I went to bed upset.  Eighth grade is hard enough.  The teachers are mean as hell, as if being so was a prerequisite to teaching.  The ones that aren’t mean are lazy.  And a goodly number of them take any opportunity to yell at and insult classroom students.  Hey folks, we realize this hasn’t been a banner year for State of California education, but what made you decide to leave your maturity at the door?  Many of these individuals seem to forget that teaching is more than a job.   Remember, these are the teachers who’ve kept their position when so many others are let go, implying they have tenure or are the cream of the crop.  You would think so, anyhow.

Leslie and I slept on it, and we started our morning as usual.  Despite being recently laid off, I get up early, which is what they say avoids the gaping maw of unemployment depression.  Elizabeth was quiet.  She had to be at school 45 minutes early for detention because she was off sick on Friday, and didn’t get her political cartoon assignment.  Whatever.   See what I’m saying about mean? 

Well, we are certain we know who the hater is.  This girl, an Asian girl, hung out with Elizabeth for two years before blossoming (and bludgeoning) hormones and other girly shit split them up.  My guess is that when they split, Elizabeth was supposed to go crawling back, and one might say she did the first time they had a problem.  She opted to be the bigger person and broke the ice.  The second time, however, Elizabeth had enough, opted in favor of her self-esteem, and found new friends.

I am personally very familiar with this hater’s M.O.  I was the buck-toothed, red-head fifth grader who got her ass kicked regularly after school.  Girls in 7^th grade handed me notes about how ugly I was and how I smelled bad.  I had a girlfriend in school, and she did the same thing to me.  She had an expectation of my behavior when we argued and when I didn’t comply, she let me have it.  I know all about it, but I didn’t have supportive parents backing me up.

Elizabeth does have supportive parents, and when I spoke to the school principal today he was very concerned.  We’re going to deal with this assertively.

It’s not okay for anyone to pick on our little girl.

Watch out, haters.

Sacred Space

Donna at Pescadero Beach

I’ve always relied on sacred space for piece of mind. It is present, available to be shared by everyone, and it is consistent. No matter what my problems are, or what situation I’m in, at no matter what age, I have both unconsciously and consciously sought out and found sacred space throughout my life. Sacred space can be a natural setting, like the mountains, or a prairie, perhaps lakeside or your garden at sunrise. It can also be something you create, like a shelf, or a more detailed altar. It can be your kitchen, when no one is in it or the backyard at night, just you and the stars. What matters most is the feeling you get being there.


I go to the ocean to find my sacred space. It’s where I feel connected to a higher power and my spirituality. I’ve always resided close to a large, living body of water. First, it was the Connecticut coastline, where the power of the Atlantic is muted by Long Island Sound. Then, it was the crisp, cold Pacific Ocean on the California Coast, where nothing blocks the sound of waves crashing on the shore. Living near water has always been important to me, and in times of turmoil, the ocean is my refuge, the place where I go to recharge my batteries.

By far the most sacred ocean spot I’ve visited is Pescadero Beach in Northern California. Once, while picnicking at this beach with my family, I said to my daughter, “Do you see Mother Nature at work here, Elizabeth?” And her answer, completely innocent at three years old was, “Boy, she sure is getting everything wet!” I cherish all of my experiences at the ocean, but that higher power feels more present to me here than any place else.

I find my sacred space at the Pacific Ocean.

Where do you find yours?

Pescadero Beach 2010

FROM OUR WORKSHOP: Colorful Salt Pouches

Extended craziness and expectancy at work has got me feeling witchy ... I find myself going back to some of my witchier posts as a result.  This was originally posted on Saturday, March 3, 2007 at 11:30 p.m. during a Lunar Eclipse.  It's really a March kind of thing, but I need salt's purifying properties now.  D❤

I feel the presence of the Goddess tonight, and She is embodied in the full moon. This is a March moon, what D.J. Conway calls a Storm Moon, as in “in like a lion, out like a lamb.” This was the first lunar eclipse we’ve seen in several years, and I wonder if it promises greater storms of nature or storms of the heart. There is, no doubt, change in the air. Maybe there will be political storms, or economic ones. Regardless, and for what it’s worth, I don’t see omens or ill tidings. Rather, I see the power She wields over the universe, manifest in physical form. I get secret thrills any time something like this happens. It’s as if the Divine Mother chose to make Herself seen by changing the celestial body She resides in. First, the moon was red, blood red, the color of life-giving blood, birth, and, strangely, both love and anger. Then, She cast a great shadow upon it, so the children who have forgotten Her might remember. To me, it is a grand gesture.

In response to this, the kitchen witch in me rose up with cauldron in hand, creative juices swirling powerfully. This isn’t the Wicked Witch, an old archetype of mine, for she is quiet now. It’s not The Scarlet Witch either, for she is a metaphor. No, this is a new witch, an emerging witch, one yet unnamed. One who can’t help but respond to the air of expectancy brought on by a fabulous and colorful full moon in March.

From this expansive tide, I’ve created salt pouches that challenge the tumultuous effect of the March storm, by using color, absorption, and vibration to raise positive energy.

The Month of March

“The Roman Matronalia honored Juno Lucina, an aspect of the goddess Juno, who protected women, children and the family. Statues of the goddess were decorated with flowers, and special temple fires were lit. Girls made offerings to Juno Lucina at this time of year for happy and prosperous marriages. The status of Isis suckling her child symbolizes this goddess’s aspect as the Great Mother, the caretaker of the Earth and all life. Flowers were floated on the rivers and the boats blessed with incense.” 1

In the month of March, think of the Goddess as the Great Mother and Protector. Dare to seek out your inner child, knowing she will be protected by the greatest and most powerful mother of them all. Love your inner child totally and without restriction. Be tender, be patient. Find something that makes you laugh and let your inner child out to play. There are other March indicators, as well, such as the presence of water spirits, often very active during March storms and resultant flooding. The color green is indicative of March not only for the Irish, but for prosperity. Irish Moss and daffodils are March plants, and animals include cougar, hedgehogs and boar.

Salt

I’ve always considered salt a purifier. I’ve kept bowls of it around at work and home, on my altar, and have used it to cleanse new homes. I seek out new kinds of salt regularly. For this project, I’ve used Himalayan Crystal Salt, purchased from American BlueGreen. These people know their salt and bend over backwards to describe its chemical, esoteric, and spiritual properties. This stuff is awesome!

“The energy vibration of the translucent crystals of salt amplifiy the ethereal fluid in the etheric body and the crystalline properties in the physical body. Crystalline properties in the physical body are found in cell salts throughout the lymphatic systems, thymus gland, pineal gland, red and white corpuscles, and regenerative properties within the muscular tissue. Amplification of the body's crystalline properties increases clairvoyance, telepathy, and receptivity to healing. Our human energy field operates on similar principle of electromagnetism, therefore, the translucent salt crystal becomes an extension of our own vibrations. The energy will intermingle with our own, and when properly programmed through meditation, can liberate the mind into discovering potentially unlimited awareness. In order to gain more conscious knowledge about our emotional, intellectual and physical states, we share our energy with the crystal salt. The combination of our relatively inconsistent vibrations together with the balancing ones of the crystal, can bridge the gap between our physical, mental spiritual selves. The astrological sign of the crystal salt is Pisces, and the vibration number is one. Rediscover your inner self.” 2

Ingredients

1. Small Pouches in various colors (I purchased mine from Oriental Trading). These are the colors I’ve used, but don’t let it limit you!

· White – Protection and Divinity.
· Lavender – Friendship.
· Orange – Courage.
· Red – Love (not necessarily romantic).
· Yellow – Happiness.
· Green – Prosperity.
· Light Blue – Protection and the Goddess(light blue is the color of Mary’s mantle).

Note: I do not avoid using the color black because I believe it absorbs negative energy. The way I see it, if Krishna’s skin was black, it’s good enough for me.

2. Salt (sea salt or other) – I’ve used a pure, natural and vibrational crystal salt that absorbs the energy of the full moon, the energy of the Ancient Mother, the Goddess, and releases it through the color of the pouches. Any salt will do this, but the Himlayan Crystal Salt truly resonates to me.

3. Lavender (the herb) – for healing
4. A Scarf or Throw (see more below)
5. Plastic Bags (moisture proof)
6. A Full Moon (not all full moons feel the same to me,but this one really called me out!)

Directions

1. Fill your pouches with the salt product you’ve chosen. The crystal salt I used was available in coarse cut, granulated, and actual rocks, so I put a combination of all three in each pouch (with the exception of the white pouches, which hold only white granulated salt). As you fill the pouches, focus on the Goddess, feel Her looking down on you from her watchtower in the sky. Focus on the month’s attributes, and as you handle each pouch, focus on its color’s symbolism. Focus Mother’s love from the full moon through your heart and fine tune it with your intent. Let your intent be the specific purpose of each pouch of salt.

2. Wrap the salt-filled pouches in a favorite scarf, throw or wrap. Let the wrap be emblazed with symbols that resonate to you. A moon, sun, hearts or pentacles are all symbols of the Goddess. Perhaps the wrap is just your favorite color and makes you feel good. Use your intuition! I add a sprig of lavender for healing and good intent, but feel free to put in other small favorites objects that have special spiritual meaning. You’ve created a super-infused wrapped package, kind of like a spiritual burrito.

3. Put your package in a plastic bag that is big enough to keep out moisture. Seal it carefully.

4. Place the package, sealed in plastic, outside, where it baths in the light of the full moon over night.

5. The next morning, bring your package into the home knowing it has bathed in the loving light of the Great Goddess. The salt has fully absorbed Her cosmic energy, and will readily emit that energy through the color of each pouch.

If you’d like to bring more happiness into your life, place a yellow pouch under your pillow at night. For prosperity, use green. Pouches can be placed on your altar or other sacred space, or they can be used as a gift for someone special. Whatever you choose to do with them, even if it’s simply putting them on a knic-knac shelf, know that they are kissed by the Divine Mother herself.

End Notes

1. MOON MAGICK, by D.J. Conway, © 1995 by Llewellyn Publications, p. 62.

2. American Blue Green LLC, Copyright © 2004-2005 All rights reserved, http://www.himalayancrystalsalt.com/

MY LATEST RANT

If you look at my blogs over the last year, you’ll see I’ve mostly bitched about waiting. I’ve had a bunch of good bursts of artistic inspiration (as the muse was never far away), but I’ve written on waiting, on temperance, on wishing, wanting and whittling away. I’ve reflected, renewed, reminisced, reconnoitered, and reconciled with personal demons. I’ve resurrected old articles and posted them anew. I’ve done everything accept stand on my head and whistle dixie from my arse, and yet seven months later I’m waiting still.

I know. It seems impossible that a company this big could take this long to organize key services, but after day one of the merger, it came to a screeching halt and the waiting started. What followed was the steady disassembling of our positions, the paranoia, the fear, and the attacks on our confidence. I overcame that. There was the vacuum vortex of conspiracy that threatened my peers and I, and we were almost turned into zombies by the utter and almost viral paralysis of one individual in authority. That situation didn't change until that individual found out she was being let go and sort of faded into the background of what was already hulking shadows and threatening questions.  We were completely cut off from what was happening by that. There were rude associates from the other side, people we had to work with but who made our lives miserable with undermining insults.  Disagreeing with this unprofessional treatment and lack of common respect implied not getting along with the team and was frowned upon.  This was followed quickly by the big projects that found me complying for the sake of the work. It was either that or sabotage their efforts, and I don’t do that. In between those happy jaunts, during which we won’t even go into what happened to my ego, there were days and days of soul sucking boredom when nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, happened in the office. I’ll take a good, difficult project any day.  I'll work hours on end if it means my mind is engaged.  But the boring day to day makes me weary. Having nothing to do at work makes me want to throw my computer out a window and jump after it.

I’ve tried very hard to be a trooper. I have one friend who tells me they are sizing me up, wanting to see what I’m made of so they can promote me. Another one tells me she’d be absolutely floored if I’m not layed off.  I’ve observed one lay-off after another, actually had to separate six of my own secretaries at one point, and have watched people be picked off from the sidelines as though by a sniper while everyone else worked harder to avoid be targetted. I have friends that I know I’m driving crazy with my ceaseless whining, and I’m wagering they think I should shut up and be thankful I have a job. So, I suppose every day I’m employed should be a good day … but does it count if my brain is fried and my attitude sucks?

What do I have to show for all this downtime? I can tell you that on Facebook Lady Bunny has so many pictures on her wall, it takes more than 5 minutes to scroll down them all. I’ve stared at Facebook so much, I actually go home to look at it again. I used up all my vacation time and much of my limitless sick time before January 1, and that was in self-defense. I’ve cleaned out our garage more than three times, and we’ve had no less than five garage sales as a result. The extra cash was cool.

I’ve done a lot of art over the last year. That much is true and good. I haven’t sold one piece, but I’ve given away much of it to people who were touched by the gesture. I believe it should be spread around regardless.

If this was happening ten or even just five years ago, I could tell these people to take their job and shove it and find something else with little effort. Now, it’s like trudging up hill in sewage. I’ve applied for more than 15 good looking positions since November 1, and have had few nibbles. Most of the time I’m overqualified or they won’t pay what I’m looking for, but the majority of the jobs out there are in high tech or health care, anyhow, so ... As much as I’d like to, I can’t walk away from this mess given the economy and the job market.  This feeling of confinement, of being trapped, is a big part of why I'm so aggravated.  I think I’m in a rut. If I wasn’t, I’d feel like I was using this time more effectively, wouldn’t I? Why aren’t I walking more or loosing more weight? Instead, it feels like it’s sucking the energy right out of me.

A year ago at this time, I was leading an integration sub-team of members from Paris, Mexico City, London, and New York, and leading conference calls across geographies at 6:00 a.m. in the morning. We were making plans for the merger. In the office, I was responsible for HR, new hire orientation, all the secretaries and workflow, finance, office services including safety and security, event planning, community service, data security, facilities and space management, and business continuity. I had 20 direct reports, and I was considered a business partner.  My input was valued.

Today, I have four people reporting to me and I attended a webcast entitled “Emergency Preparedness for Dummies”.

I’ve been through the first round of interviews for my new, restructured position which is comprised of about one quarter of what I was doing previously. The second round is imminent, and I feel like I did when Elizabeth was two weeks overdue and all I could is sit in the big chair and wait.

I’m in the last quarter and there isn’t a quarter back sneak in sight.

Pathetic.

Reflecting on 2010

It’s the week between Christmas and New Year’s here in San Francisco, and the streets are so quiet it’s like a Sunday. Seems everybody took this week off. Even the ride into the city was unusually quick and effortless. As usual, I find myself reflecting at this time of year. Maybe it’s the gloss of Christmas just past. But last year at this time, I had to work to relax with the quiet, while now I find it easy and would just as happily curl up in front of a movie as write this blogpost.

Merry Christmas!

2010 has been a powerful year. Definitely not easy, but most powerful. Uncertainty and ambiguity at work has been a source of constant stress, yet I’ve learned more from it than I ever thought possible. Same job, same building, same street in downtown San Francisco, true; however, the experience has been cathartic. I find myself feeling more confident professionally than I did a year ago, and credit it to the realization that it’s not about whether I stay or go. It’s about my professional confidence. So, ironically last year at this time I was wrapping up change around personal worthiness in my relationships, and still pondering what I had to let go, and this year it’s about professional worthiness, which, I’m proud to say, is still intact.

So happy!

On the home front, we’re all doing well. Elizabeth has Leslie and I on our toes as she navigates the perils of teen angst at Middle School. A year ago she fretted about changing school systems, and now as her girlfriends go through their own weirdness, she’s actually looking forward to it. Our daughter is poised, confident, and her grades are outstanding. We had her completely faked out over Christmas. We whined for months that the uncertainty at work meant Christmas would be frugal. Instead, she got everything she wanted and more, so naturally Leslie and I enjoyed it vicariously, as well. Leslie is in good health, and this year has been blessed with an opportunity to deal with past baggage. This is the kind of situation that happens very rarely, and she’s handled it with compassion and strength. I’ve been so proud of how she’s conducted herself. She made a friend in the process, as well, which is bonus. The doggies are great, too. Still spoiled. Jack has successfully avoided major abdominal surgery this year, which is a blessing, and Daizy is still pushing him around.

Daizy is happy in her new sweater and toy,
while Jack mopes because Daizy
isn't sharing.

I’ve been blessed with new friendships this year. Surprisingly, some of the connections I’ve made on Facebook have developed unexpectedly into more substantial friendships. I’ve met and gotten to know such talented artists, and have learned so much from them. I’ve grown closer with cousins from my father’s side of the family, too, after keeping them at an arm’s length for many years. Now, I find we have more in common than our profile. I’m more convinced than ever that Facebook is a spiritual tool of the new age, whose purpose is to provide connectivity to people all over the globe at a time when they need it the most, when the world is changing so quickly and profoundly. In the real world, by the way, I’ve been blessed with a close personal friend. A real person here, near to where we live, and someone we can go to lunch with once in a while. Isn’t that marvelous? I needed a special friend so badly, and this person is a gift direct from the goddess. She listens, doesn’t waste words on useless chatter, appreciates my art, and knows when I’m being ridiculous and doesn’t hold it against me when I am. She’s smart and capable, and an unexpected source of creative inspiration, as well.

My creativity has boomed this year, by the way. I’ve done a lot of work with stickers and collages, a medium that I find most liberating, and I’ve made all kinds of greeting cards. My inner muse, Francine, has been quiet, but I think it’s because so much of my nervous energy has been used up stressing over work.

Sitting here in the office where it’s so quiet, I’m surprised to find myself looking forward to 2011. I am fully aware the axe could fall any day, but I’m not dwelling on it. Sure, I’m a little scared, but rather, I’ve taken my future well in hand, and am focused on all the possibilities.

I believe 2011 will be about love, really, love, family and friendship, which are most important to me.

And as far that goes, I’m already wealthy beyond reckoning.

Love to you and yours on this holiday,
 
D❤

Francine

FROM OUR WORKSHOP: Live Love Laugh

"Live Love Laugh"

© October 21, 2010 by Donna L. Faber

A tattoo designed and rendered for my cousin Pam

Over the last year, and through the miracle of Facebook, I've been blessed with the rediscovery of cousins, formerly estranged cousins, from my father's side of the family. There are loads of them, and some I connect with more than others. This tattoo was designed for my cousin, Pam, whom I connect with. She wanted something that would commemorate this good time in her life; a time of rejuvenation, re-emergence and rediscovery. But she wanted to do it while always acknowledging the love she has for her children, Mitch and Jack, and the poignant memory of their father.

So, Pam, this one’s for you!
Love,
D♥

Three is a Magic Number

If you believe everything that Sesame Street taught you, and for the most part I do, you’ll believe that three is a magic number. You’ll believe that the Crocodile King really did need a worthy son, the lady bugs all attended that picnic, and Gracie Slick really did sing a very clever song about numbers. She did, really. Like me, from the time of early childhood, you’ll know that three heads are better than one. Larry, Moe and Curly proved it. You may even know that two’s company and three’s a crowd. Most of all, three is a magic number to me personally. It’s the number of people in my family … 1, 2, 3. It’s also the magic number that brings us to our next tribute witches.

Witches and other magical women have appeared in threes since the beginning of time. Well, at least since the beginning of half way decent literature, making their first and precedent setting appearance in Shakespeare’s play “MacBeth”. As the official Three Witches or Weird Sisters, these supernatural women were drawn from mythology and legend, and represented rebellion and treason in the worst sense (as Wiki states it). We’re not talking about the Three Graces here, goddesses of charm, beauty and creativity. Or even the very lovely Maiden, Mother, Crone virtues in Wicca. Indeed, these are your more malignant types, representing deceit, betrayal and murder, all nefarious values upon which countless pieces of art and sculpture have been rendered throughout history.

The magic number three doesn’t lose its poignancy moving into modern media. It very simply transmogrifies into something more understandable, something that requires a lesser attention span. There are three sisters, all witches, in the series “Charmed”, which by the way, is set in San Francisco, the city I most adore. There were three vixens in the movie, “The Craft” before the fourth showed up and they all got greedy.

Three.

This leads me directly to my favorite witchy threesome, and the witches to which I give tribute in this installment … The Sanderson Sisters in Disney’s movie, “Hocus Pocus”.

Believe it or not, it was just on television this morning.

These three sisters are my favorite for various reasons, not the least of which include Bette Midler, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Kathy Najimy.

“The movie opens in 17th century Salem, Massachusetts where three witch sisters — Winifred, Sarah, and Mary Sanderson — transformed a boy, Thackery Binx, into an immortal black cat as punishment for trying to prevent them from absorbing the life force of his younger sister, Emily. He fails to rescue her and instead is cursed to spend eternity as a black cat. The witches are tried and executed by the locals. However, thanks to a curse created by Winifred's magic spell-book, they vow to return when a virgin lights the Black Flame candle on a Halloween night when the moon is full (wiki).”

Winifred is played by Midler. She is the loud mouth, red-headed, buck-tooth sister, who is the most powerful magically, and the brightest lit of the three dim bulbs. Demonstrating where the lines between real life and television can often blur, it is no strange coincidence that Midler has since become a headliner in the modern day Sodom and Gomorrah, Las Vegas, and holds her crowd in a hypnotic trance, just like she did in the movie. Her sister, Sarah, is played by none other than Sarah Jessica Parker, aka Carrie Bradshaw, who reigned supreme in another fabled city known as New York, this time ruling with a a laptop, and an array of unusually hypnotic outfits. The last sister, the chubby one who was most prone to various canine tendencies, and rode on an airborne vacuum cleaner, was played by Kathy Najimy. Najimy also moonlighted as a plus size nun in Whoopie’s movie, “Sister Act”. Since then, she has lost considerable weight, shrinking & growing, shrinking & growing, thus demonstrating her powers of transmogrification. All three Sanderson sisters are undeniably stupid, so much so that they couldn’t outwit the three children who released them from 300 years of hell and then tried to send them back.

So, without further ado, I give you The Sanderson Sisters …

Halloween Witch Tribute: If You Want A Job Done Right, Do It Yourself

There is something inherently pathetic about a witch who won’t do her own dirty work. If you’re going to embrace the devil in your psyche, like those crazy bitches on The O Channel’s television show “Snapped” (which we always seem to end up watching on Saturday mornings), the least you can do is wield the poison apple yourself. This is the lesson learned by the Evil Queen in Disney’s “Snow White”, who is the subject of our Halloween Witch Tribute.
One may argue that The Evil Queen, also known as Queen Grimhilde, is not a witch, but a royal matriarch, and therefore is disqualified from this tribute. I would disagree with that. Any woman who is narcissistic enough to get hung up on her beauty, for example, or riches, or power, and then kill someone to protect it, should be elevated to witch status … um, evil witch status, that is. After all, every woman is a witch, and every witch is wise, right? Walt Disney certainly understood this. Glinda from “TheWizard of Oz”, for example, was incurably annoying, but she was, most certainly, what we might consider a good witch. It is interesting to note that Queen Grimhilde, voiced by Lucille La Verne, was also Disney’s first “serious” villain in a full length feature, and has yet to be surpassed for excellence in sheer malignancy.

Let’s acknowledge the presence of OCD, or obsessive compulsive disorder, in most all of these evil women, as well. Cruella had to have a Dalmatian puppy coat. Trying to realize that desire in a number of nefarious ways finally did her in. The evil queen, Narcissa (what a name!) in Disney’s “Enchanted” had a thing for her stepson. I’d rather not analyze that too closely, thank you, and not just because he was a completely self-centered dolt whose teeth were way too big for his face. Yet, despite calling on her powers as a shape shifter and turning into a dragon just like Malificent (from “Sleeping Beauty”), who by all counts was an evil feary and not really a witch, she managed to be outdone by Love’s First Kiss, which is about as pathetic as it gets … truly.

Disney’s Evil Queen is a regal bitch who probably started out as a scullery maid. She happened to be graced with good looks. Perhaps she got lucky enough to find the King alone in his office when, after a difficult day on the stock market, he needed a good blow job. She was happy to oblige, after which one might speculate it was her good looks that found him enamored of her, so much that he had his first wife tossed unceremoniously from a parapet. The king neglected to reveal that he had a daughter by his first wife, who was also lovely, although very young. She, of course, was quickly banished to the Kingdom’s projects, where she shacked up with seven little people, because, after all, there can be only one good looking bitch in the castle. Descendants of the Roloffs, these little people took advantage of Snow White for house cleaning services and singing with woodland creatures when they weren’t in the diamond mines slaving for the precious gems upon which the Kingdom’s failing economy was based. Before too long, the Kingdom would be forced to purchase those precious gems from other countries such as Far, Far Away, and the seven little homeys would have no choice but to work at Kingdom-Mart, where they would be fired if they were caught whistling on the job. In fact, it was this crash in the market that drove the King to his own death shortly after being married.

What made Grimhilde, now the reigning matriarch in the kingdom, so darn special was that she could read crystal balls. Some women are just born gifted, I guess. Soon, scrying became her chosen tool of divination, and she used it to find and promptly dispose of other young, lovely and nubile ladies in the realm. Nobody knows why she ended up with that annoying Magic Mirror, but it was he who couldn’t keep his big trap shut when the banished princess got old enough to be competition. Maybe one of the little people, thrust into a personal alcoholic hell after losing his job, couldn’t keep HIS big trap shut in the local pub. After all, he couldn’t get any insurance at Kingdom-Mart and so his addiction was never treated.

Anyhow, The Evil Queen sent some fucktard Huntsman to kill the princess, and demanded her heart be returned in a pretty little box. I just love little boxes. She threatened the Huntsman with death if he failed. Naturally, he did, and if that wasn’t enough, he tried to deceive her, as well, because he needed his job desperately. Jesus, you just can’t find good help these days. The Evil Queen, an alchemist at heart, descended into her dungeon laboratory, where she drank polyjuice to look like the old woman who worked in the Castle’s laundry.

The rest is history.
The fact that the Evil Queen sacrificed the very thing she coveted to get what she wanted is what perplexes me the most. It is, however, a testament to the severity of her OCD, which is undoubtedly what she would blame the entire mess on if she were arrested for premeditated murder and put on trial. She wasn’t, of course. People in true power, no matter what time in history, can get away with raping the country they live in, and having others killed for the sake of convenience. This, after all, is fact and can be seen time and time again by watching cable television and YouTube.

The moral of this story, if there is such a thing, is two-fold. First, let’s acknowledge that the Kingdom did not have a decent plastic surgeon. If it did, the Evil Queen would never have bothered with the Magic Mirror and the whole crises could’ve been averted. Second is the age old axiom, if you want a job done well, you have to do it yourself.

Pretty box or no, if Grimhilde wanted Snow White killed, she should’ve put aside her class bigotry and racism and ventured into the projects to do it herself to begin with.

*********************************
Note: This posting was originally published in October of 2008.

Emerging Art: SO MUCH LOVE

My cousin, Pam, in Tennessee has reached a new place in her life and wants to commemorate it with a tattoo.  She asked me to design it for her, and she and I have been working on it over the last few days.  Tonight, it's name emerged.


It's almost done ...

Version 1

Version 2

SO MUCH LOVE (Incomplete)
© October 18, 2010 by Donna L. Faber

MY FIRST MEDIUM READING

I am fascinated by mediums, people who are able to speak with the spirits of our deceased. John Edwards, Lisa Williams, and the ever debated Sylvia Browne march across my lens from time to time on television; and there is a medium by the name of Felix Lee Lerma living right here on the Castro in San Francisco. My friend, Jen, who passed away last January, went to see Felix in 2008 and raved about the reading she received. If you’re plugged in, you can’t miss television shows like “Medium” and “Ghost Whisperer”, which is produced by the famed James Von Praagh. If we consider the overwhelming emergence, the intense visibility, of such a talent at this particular point in Earth’s spiritual history, our natural curiosity about bridging the gap between this world and the next won’t be such a surprise or nearly as shocking.

I’ve entertained the possibility of being read by a medium on many occasions, but something always came up as I pursued it. Okay well … maybe it was part skepticism and part nerves, too. But then, one year ago, SpiritCaat, a woman who I am connected to on Facebook, was looking for new opportunities to practice her skill, so I volunteered.  I’m so glad that I did.

SpiritCaat, whose given name is Lisa, approached our reading with open attentiveness and honest communication. She was looking for repetitive symbols in her work, clues as to common themes, and how they compared to true messages from beyond. I was impressed with how pragmatically she approached the very lofty topic, and how she tied past readings to mine (confidentially, of course) in order to learn more about her gift. I had no expectations as to the reading’s outcome and considered myself an open book, so my overall experience was very positive.

My great aunt Phyllis spoke to me through SpiritCaat’s otherworldly and intuitive connection. She is my grandmother’s long lost and deceased sister, and confirmed who she was by offering up her mother’s name directly. There is no way Lisa could know that my great grandmother’s name was Grace.

My grandmother, Thelma, is in her late 80’s, suffers from dementia, and hangs on to this life ferociously for many reasons. She’s been in a rest home for over10 years, and has been at death’s door regularly, only to pull back at the last minute as though reluctant to depart. In fact, she is anchored to this world by some very strong emotions and a lack of faith that I learned to recognize when I was in Connecticut with her for two years in 2007 and 2008.

Phyllis offered reassurances as to Thelma’s passing, but then it became apparent her multi-dimensional message was specifically for Tootsie, my grandmother’s youngest living sister. Tootsie is in her early 80’s, is very together (despite having bad knees), is very chipper, and very aware of and a little freaked out by all the death around her, no matter that it’s age appropriate. She grapples with unresolved issues regarding my grandmother, who was like a mother to her, and whose unsolicited and inappropriate opinions often caused familial friction.

She and I discussed SpiritCaat’s reading, and she asked many questions. She walked me through all the biggest issues she has with my grandmother, helping me to understand. Finally, with the knowledge that Phyllis and their mother were there to help her cross over, we agreed it was appropriate to prepare for Thelma’s departure (which has yet to occur, by the way). Tootsie was so relieved and reassured that she cried.

I have one last tidbit on this reading. In the beginning, when SpiritCaat was “warming up”, I was doodling around on my notepad (determined as I was to take notes), clearing my thoughts, and opening my mind. I wrote “ding dong” on the pad, which meant nothing to me at the time. It turns out, as my Aunt Tootsie confessed; she hears a door bell ring just before receiving big news about a family member. Nobody else hears it. Only she does.

Even when other people are in the room.

Of course, Tootsie’s doorbell rang only just prior to receiving my call.

This fascinating tidbit was further confirmation of the genuine nature of SpiritCaat’s gift. What greater gift than healing could a medium offer.

Read more about SpiritCaat’s offerings by visiting her New Age Encyclopedia here , and her primary website here.


Originally posted one year ago on September 1, 2009, this article has been editted.  Both photos in this article were swiped from SpiritCaat's Facebook page.

Getting What You Want

NEW MOON IN VIRGO: Banishing Uncertainty at Work

Sunflowers from a dear friend
remind me to seek the sunny side!

I had the hardest time getting my derriere in gear to go to work Tuesday morning. I wanted to stay home just one more day. The new moon in Virgo finds me unusually and purposefully thoughtful, so an extra day to ponder would’ve been just right. But this Virgo energy is about efficiency not luxury, so I got myself out of bed and went to work.

I’m pondering my art, and thinking about writing a book. I’m reassessing my blogs and the possibility of combining them. I’m reaffirming my commitment to family and friendship and using my love to make those closest to me stronger and happier. I’m reaffirming the commitment to my health, as well, by continuing to eat better, eat less, and move more. These affirmations are all part of the tapestry of my life.

More than anything, judgment is on my mind. Not so much how others judge me, but how I judge myself. My spiritual compass is an internal one, and I am content with the choices I’ve made around family, friends, lifestyle, and my art and other areas of creativity. I’ve focused specifically on confidence in these areas in the past, and worked through a number of very difficult and enduring life lessons, all of which where about judgment, but are topics for another blogpost. Now, I’m in the middle of another life lesson, the delicate fibers of which I can see at last. Clearly, this is about my career, and I’m ready to get beyond it.

Last week, I finished defining the Judgment card in my pending pop-culture tarot deck. The same day, someone on Facebook pulled Judgment as the “card of the day”. Last Wednesday, a taste of workplace neurosis from the recent past re-emerged, and its bitterness seemed fresh and new. Then, I had nightmares all weekend about things and people I most value being in danger. It’s funny how those synchronicities line up, isn’t it? It’s like my subconscious pushed rewind until I got the message.

Like everyone, I live with a few demons tucked away deep in the recesses of my psyche. They are private, custom made by my life experiences, and locked up in tiny little cages made of unbreakable steel called “restraint”. Only the Great Mother and I can open the locks. They are held closed by combinations called “self-esteem” and “worthiness”, both of which I worked very hard to reclaim after my precarious childhood. The first demon is a prickly little bastard called “Measuring Up” and the other is a bleak fellow called “Failure”. After making appearances (and being dealt with) in my personal relationships some time ago, apparently they have settled in the “Career/Professional” subsection of my brain.

Alright, I give. I get it. I’m here to learn a lesson, right? The last time something this intense and job related happened in 2003. When the cycle of change was over three years later in 2006, my family and I were jettisoned into a whole new set of lessons on the opposite side of the country. So, I know I won’t be released from this until I learn what I’m supposed to learn.

Before the firm I’m working for announced its merger over a year ago, I enjoyed a nice, mellow, make-sense kind of job. There was a clear line of report, workplace respect, and good leadership. I’ve worked in a merging firm before, and there are very sound reasons why the word “merger” has people looking for new jobs. The announcement alone had me worried. Two different cultures coming together causes company-wide disruption. The competitive and uncertain atmosphere has people acting like teenagers. Change is the name of the day, and everything that could make me feel uncertain in my job has occurred. I’ve been job searching since April, and while I’ve had a few good nibbles, it seems companies have lowered their base salary for what I do. The economy being what it is offers few alternatives and consequently leaves no escape. This uncertainty and the unprofessional and disrespectful way I was being treated by key people unhinged the locks on my professional confidence, releasing both my fear of failure and not measuring up. Soon, I felt hesitant. My confidence seemed to leak away. I judged everything I wanted to say, everything I wanted to do, from a place of fear. And those two demons sat atop my shoulders enjoying their success. Fear is such a cancerous thing. It gives over so much of our personal power to others.

The only way to banish demons like this is to let them all the way out to show themselves. Then, as though you are working a magic spell, whip out your magic wand, call upon your resources of courage and self-respect and recognize them for what they are and what they have done to you. Call them out by name, forgive yourself for being swayed and the way you may have acted, and cast them away! Learn from your mistake!

This dissolves their power and so they disappear.

Today is the new moon in Virgo, and I harness its energy to put a close on this challenge. Artemis, the Virgin Goddess of the Hunt, shoots her arrow across the heavens to strike down this needless fear. I will no longer struggle with it, and I won’t let it jeopardize upcoming career opportunities. I’m tired of the stress eating up so many good days and ruining evenings with my family. As of right now, and aided and blessed by the Virgo New Moon and the Great Mother residing within, I release these two demons from their cages forever, and I transform them with my magic.

*Poof*

“Am I good enough?” becomes “I am good enough!”


*Poof*

“Failure” becomes “Success”.

I am confident.

I am me.

And this is how it should be.

~as above, so below~

EIGHTH GRADE TIME MACHINE

Back to School


Our daughter started her first day of eighth grade last Monday. She got up super early to be at her girlfriend’s house so they could walk up the hill to school together.

Elizabeth, or Liz as she calls herself, is at the top of the heap now in middle school, no longer a Taylor Tot or suspended someplace in the middle of seventh grade. She’s one of those girls she found herself looking up to not even a year ago, poised to enjoy a year full of special events that no one else gets -- a trip to Great America, a special graduation dance, a yearbook with her name embossed on it, and of course the sacred ceremony itself. Eighth grade girls are spoken of in hushed tones, like “He’s dating an eighth grade girl,” or “I’ve been friended on Facebook by an eighth grader!” Elizabeth will have braces by December, too. Maybe even green ones, although when I was a kid we didn’t get to pick cool colors. The fact that she’s actually looking forward to getting them, like they’re a right of passage, blows my mind.

Elizabeth has so much to look forward to, so much to be … so much pressure.

I knew we were approaching a rocky spot this past weekend when by Thursday Elizabeth juggled both her computer and iPhone almost religiously to connect with her best friend, Jessica. Their need to reaffirm their friendship before school started seemed manic. Friday morning, she announced a “Stay at Home Day”, the last of the summer, and she simply refused to go anywhere. Liz glued herself to her technology, as she and Jessica shared an obsession over a gaming site called OMGpop, and their constantly competitive interaction increased their tension. At one point, Elizabeth exclaimed with glee that they were addicted! Yay!

Time For An Intervention

Despite Elizabeth wanting to spend time with Jessica in person over the weekend, Leslie and I gently declared a no friend zone and instead intended to bask our daughter in the healing, inner warmth of our tight family. Saturday would be about shopping, one of Elizabeth’s favorite activities, and the list of errands to complete and prepare for Monday. We shopped for clothes, shoes, and school supplies (which, by the way, cost a fortune no matter where you get them).

While we were out, Elizabeth maintained the link with Jessica over her iPhone. In real time, she vacillated between reluctant cooperation, exasperated impatience, and then downright irritation with Leslie and I. Each time she got too snippy, she heard about it, and soon it became obvious we were cramping her style.

After a slightly tense dinner of chinese food, we ended up at a brand new Van’s shoe store on Burlingame Avenue. It had just opened the day before, was fully stocked, and the sales boy seemed eager to please. That was a good thing because Elizabeth is notoriously difficult to fit. After being a size eight and a half for the last year and a half, Elizabeth declared that she was only seven and a half, and thus began a tug ‘o war around shoe size.

While Elizabeth and Leslie negotiated, I captured a few private and precious moments with Elizabeth’s iPhone to look at the latest string of text messages. I’m not concerned with violating her privacy. It wasn’t her diary, and I didn’t find it under the mattress. Elizabeth knows we claim the right to review her activity on the internet, although she refers to it as stalking. These are children using futuristic communication devices that encourage and enable disrespectful attitudes by eliminating the need for personal contact. Reports of internet bashing, bullying, and inappropriate teenage behavior whirled through my head, as some of the comments I’d previously read written by Jessica when she was irritated with her mother flashed before my eyes. Indeed, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst, I was enormously relieved to see that Leslie and I had been however irritatingly, but still only, referred to as “those people”.

I heaved an enormous sigh.

We were not “those jerks” or worse as some other children have called their parents. No. Elizabeth referred to us as “my moms” (which we are) and “those people”, as in, “I can’t get away from those people” (which I don’t mind). She complained we were finding fault with everything she did, and, I suppose, from her limited perspective, we were.

Eighth Grade Time Machine

Eighth grade was a blur for me. My brothers and I lived with my mother in a pretty little rental in Milford, Connecticut, but the front door revolved in a long series of freaks and weirdo’s. These were people my mother considered friends, but who, at any point in my life, I would consider a roster of the lowest form of barely vegetative life forms available on the Milford bar scene. The all night parties complete with band, open use of drugs and alcohol, people asleep on the couch, floors and showing up in bedrooms, punctuated by the occasional conflict between inebriated scumbags was a frightening parade of on-going craziness. You wouldn’t believe the completely inappropriate scenes I walked in on, and god only knows what my brothers were exposed to. I was frequently stunned, to say the least. My immediate family was no safe haven, and my mother’s behavior became a source of confusion. While there was a guardian angel that kept me focused on constructive activities, my mother showed no interest in what I was doing, and so at this point I started leaning heavily on my friends for emotional support and got out of the house every chance I could get.

Leslie, on the other hand, was a different kind of kid. She was in seventh grade in 1964, and her mother had gone away for a long medical convalescence. Leslie was left with her father, who worked in show business, to fend for herself. Her older sister had long since flown the coup. Leslie was a private child who didn’t share her problems and never strayed from her family.

* * * * *

For us, Sunday was, quite deliberately, a lovely, peaceful day. Elizabeth and I organized her dresser, her closet, and all her school supplies, and the process made her very happy. She spent only one hour on the computer at the very end of the day, which found Leslie and I speculative.

Our family approached a nuclear meltdown more than once over the weekend. Elizabeth teetered on a high wire of tension, brought on by eighth grade expectations, and Leslie and I were her safety net, guiding her. I found myself wondering what would happen if that safety net disappeared? How would our daughter fare if we weren’t there to guide her? Would she be like I was, needful of people and activities? Or would she be like Leslie who was private and self-sufficient? I’m happy that her biggest worry revolves around when she can visit with her friends after school instead of focusing so intently on homework.

Elizabeth is an uncanny combination of both Leslie and I, and if you’re familiar with how she was conceived, you’ll see the irony in this. She can be flighty and forgetful one moment, and then incredibly focused, attentive, and connected the next. At school, she manages to juggle a complex social network of friends, which extends across the internet, and still she gets good grades. We just received the results of last year’s California STAR testing, and her marks were outstanding.

All speculation aside, I got the reassurance I needed from Elizabeth’s text messages. Yes, she is poised however precariously on the brink of being a teenager, like most kids her age, and believe me, Leslie and I get on her nerves regularly.

But we're confident she’s holding her own.

Note: Photography by ellSNAP Designs (aka Elizabeth Leslie Faber).

MORE FRANCINE

OH, FRANCINE!

Visit the one and only Francine at

http://www.donnalouisefaber.com/!

You know she wants you!

FROM OUR WORKSHOP: Elizabeth on a roll

For the longest time, Elizabeth (my 13 year old daughter) was preoccupied with a digital drawing tablet.  She did a few pieces of art with it, but kept getting hung up on the technology of it.  She'd get so frustrated becuase she couldn't what she wanted out of it in her drawings.  Well, she finally got tired of it, and went back to good old pen & ink!  And this what she's been up to ...

One day, Lizii decided she wanted to be a Pokemon

© July 27, 2010 by Elizabeth Faber

A close up of my favorite bit of the previous piece.

Plus Music © July 27, 2010 by Elizabeth Faber ... so sweet.

FROM OUR WORKSHOP: PMS Sucks ...

"You've been on my back all day, SEE??!?"

© July 15, 2010 by Liz Faber.

And so, perimenopause begins and I become a MOMster.

Why is it that our children have such clear vision? D♥

TEMPERANCE
CARD #14
KEYWORDS: Flexibility, Moderation, Transcendence

The magic of the Tarot lies in its timeless symbolism. When we look closely and contemplate tarot symbols, they help us awaken intuitive channels and unlock the secrets of our higher selves. The Great Mother gave us more than a tool for divination. She provided us with a visual roadmap to understanding as we navigate our way through a constantly changing world.

The tarot’s major arcana cards represent universal experiences that we all go through, no matter what our background or how we were raised.

Change, like death and taxes, is something we can count on but don’t necessarily look forward to. It often affects us directly in very tangible ways igniting a series of internal changes in its wake. When circumstances push us through hoops, doors, and open windows, we are pulled out of our comfort zone. We may react strongly, with unexpected emotions, and we may find ourselves acting out in unanticipated ways. Stress, after all, can do strange things to even the most stable individual.

In this modern, pop-culture rendition of the Temperance Card, actress Catherine Deneuve is an angel praying serenely over a chalice of flowing water. Her classic beauty and peaceful repose reminds us to slow down. The birds in this card signify the elements of air and thought, and they remind us to respond rather than react. Insinuate the intellect wisely when the raging waters of emotion threaten to carry us away. Catherine’s praying hands are held up to her forehead, indicating the third eye, which is open. In this, she acknowledges that integrating internal change is critical to maintaining emotional stability. She is also secure in the knowledge that the watchful Raven (the eyes of the Morrigan or Dark Mother) is a representative of the Goddess, who is always watching over us.

It is no coincidence that the Temperance Card falls between the Death Card (#13) (transformation through change) and the Devil Card (#15) (enduring problems) in a tarot deck. When viewing the major arcana in a linear fashion, it becomes apparent that the placement of this card gives us an opportunity to deal with and process emotional change. Take time to watch for signs, markers, totems and patterns that are significant to our personal journey. These signals point the way. Let go of what should be released, such as failed relationships, unsuccessful work arrangements, and uncomfortable or awkward circumstances. Know that irreconcilable differences or contradictory opposites, whether they are inner archetypes stretched by duality or personalities that make working together difficult, can be transcended.

Concurrently, these issues can isolate us when ignored. They keep us from moving forward by instilling fear and making us too frightened to take emotional chances again. When left to fester, they become the even bigger issues that vex us symbolized by the Devil Card (in which case a hearty sense of humor is very helpful).

When the Temperance card appears in a reading, remember the words fluidity, agility, and flexibility and go with the flow.



Read more about the creative process here.
View the Major Arcana Gallery on my art site here.