I had my first child in an attempt to save my marriage. Not that I thought that having a child would bind my husband and I together in shared love but because having a child would mean that I had to care for that child and caring for that child would keep me from running around and getting myself into the sort of trouble I’d gotten into for most of my semi-adult life, i.e. having random sex with strangers.
My decision was a purely one-sided decision; my husband and I had discussed numerous times that having children was nowhere on…
September 11, 2001 is one of those, “What were you doing when?” moments. In this case, my story begins the day before, on September 10th.
I want to emphasize, before I tell my story, that I am not any kind of psychic. I do, however, seem to be some sort of “open space” in which information sometimes simply appears. It hasn’t happened often and, I can promise you, I am never looking for it…, in fact, I often — usually — don’t even understand what it is that I am “seeing” in what some people might call my mind’s eye.
I am very aware that there are numerous people out there in the world who think that I am straight out of my mind. Somehow, though, I am able to function decently in the world, have a publisher who has published my books, and have sold a boatload of art recently. I have a marvelously supportive husband and wonderful friends… nevertheless, to a small group of people, some of whom seem to be related to me, I am just nuts.
Those people should stop reading this now.
A few days ago, I had a massive anxiety attack. Or it might…
I am 75 years and, except for a touch of high blood pressure, (thank you and fuck you, Covid), in very good health. In fact, there are parts of me — specifically my arms and my legs — that are in the best health they’ve been since 1988 when I was stricken with a disease — diffuse progressive systemic sclerosis — AKA scleroderma — that was supposed to kill me. …
Thank you for writing this, Ana... I loved reading it. It brought back nostalgic memories of the day tarot found me... back in 1964 when I was in art college!
I 've cut back a little and only have 3 decks at the moment (+ the Symbolon cards which are Amazing). I did readings for decades, but now only sporadcally - usually for friends who need a reading - as life brought me other 'techniques' to focus on.
MIne is an earth-based spirituality... and has been since I was a kid. For me, the life of an animal and the life of a plant are of equal importance and value. For me, if I am to eat, there is always killing and I counter that knowingness by respecting and thanking that which has been sacrificed to keep my life going. I am as conscious of this 'holy' dynamic as I can be.
I begin every day with the "prayer" of recognizing both my place in and my impact on all the life that is on earth... including the life I don't eat or personally make use of but which plays its own part in All Life.
Is it the newness?
Is it the oldness?
Do I know you from before?
Is it your eyes?
Is it your body?
Did we pass each other going through the door?
There’s a sense of ‘What comes next?’
And I’m honestly perplexed
But there’s something
In my soul that longs for more.
and I’ve come to the conclusion
I must have you now
and then I must have more.
An Unexpected Breakthrough
Yesterday, I had an optimistic moment in which I found myself imagining a grand success! I imagined me winning the Artists Over 60 contest that The Artist’s Magazine runs every year.
This contest opportunity happens once a year and is heavily advertised both online and in the magazine itself. Every year, the winners and their work are featured in the magazine. Every year I have looked at their work and thought to myself countless versions of “better than what I do.”
Backing up briefly… I have been in and out of various kinds of therapies since 1992…
I will be 75 years old this year and I have, only within the last few years, experienced grief. Most of the people I have ever loved enough that I would grieve their loss are alive.
I had never gotten to know my father’s parents because they lived in Cuba. I’d visited there twice, once as an infant and then again in about second grade, but my father’s father had died by then and, while I met his mother, I did not like her even a little. She was cold and she was pompous.
I actually cheered the death of…