It’s been a few months. Life is bumping along in it’s usual manner. Some twists, some backtracks, some new scenery. And all along it feels like sitting in the backseat of an old but reliable family car on it’s way to the distant shimmering shore. The immediate moment affords a  comfortable familiarity. But the near future feels washed in a salty tide of unknown waters swirling and pulling.

I can look at my calendar and see all the notes and dates and appointments and yet there is always this quality of breathless anticipation. Of what? I don’t know. It feels sometimes like free-floating anxiety. I don’t like it. I find that my life is full of having to be here at this time and there at another with this or that in hand or at least within my reach. If I forget my phone it feels like I’ve lost a limb. If I forget my wallet I feel untethered – like a helium balloon rising into the sky. And this is normal.

I want so much for things to be simple. One thing lined up calmly after another. One task done and move onto the next. But life is not like that. Everything is always moving and changing at once and I suck at multi-tasking. So I have a tendency to get cranky. This is verified by my partner who, while reading this will probably be nodding her head violently. Yes, it’s true. I am a cranky multi-tasker. With a three year old daughter. Oy!

I find that, as a multi-tasking challenged individual, I need to keep things as basic as possible. Go here at this time, show up, do what I’m supposed to do and then go there, do that and then go home. It doesn’t sound very exciting but it keeps me sane. Even with my tarot practice, I have let go of the things I think I should be doing to build a bigger business and just focus on showing up. My presence is what I can give right now. My service is available and I trust that the people who need me will find me.

I believe in visibility. I believe in marketing myself to create a viable business and I know that old adage – “the squeaky wheel gets the grease” actually has merit. But I also know that I will never look back on these amazing years and regret that I didn’t spend enough time with my daughter and my partner. The real visibility lies in how they see me in their lives. I am present and accounted for. I am here and I show up.

Spring is in the air. Oh, yeah, and some ash too. Poor Europe. Who knew that Iceland could cause so much havoc in the world? Little unassuming Iceland. With it’s broken economy and disconsolate citizens. It’s almost as if that volcano was shouting for the populace “Hey! Over here! You wanna talk about bad economic times! You wanna see a financial meltdown, I’ll show you! There, how’s that? I’ll just shut down all tourism for a few weeks and see how y’all feel about that!!”

Well, maybe they don’t actually sound like their from Brooklyn, but I kinda feel like they could. It’s a crazy time in the world. Earthquakes, a volcanic eruption and taxes. Take your pick. They all feel a bit sad and unnerving.

I guess that’s what spring is all about. Change and growing pains. All that pushing from underground upward to catch some rays. Can’t have the blossom without some pain. I keep remembering a poem I read long ago about green shoots that tenaciously grew up from the muddy ditches on the side of a lonesome highway. And how no one stops to clear the weeds and encourage them to grow. No one stops to marvel at their beauty and strength. Except the author. In the still moment of a journey he or she paused long enough to look and witness and then write a sweet, small acknowledgement of life returning to the landscape.

Sometimes I feel like that simple act of witnessing has within it the seeds of revelation and revolution. If I stop and actually look at what grows from the cracked sidewalk I can be mezmerized and profoundly moved. I am struck by the courage and resolve of a tiny plant that breaks open the hard concrete surface of a walkway. Thanks to my daughter, I spend a lot more time observing things close to the ground. She sees everything and takes the time to stop, pause, investigate, wonder and then move on. It’s called toddler time.

In toddler time, the most important element is spontaneity. The wonderful ability to move and be moved by what’s right in front of you. And stay with it until your done. So what if your Mama and Mamie are running 15 minutes late? So what if the store closes in 10 minutes? You have the absolute right to sit down in the middle of the stairs and investigate the lint in your navel.

So now, here comes spring jogging along with it’s new track shoes on. It looks so pretty and sprightly. Dressed in pink and green! Kinda makes my head swoon.  And I just want to skip and jump and run with it. But wait, the toddler says stop , hold on, check this out! Look, right there. Down in the mud. There’s a little green shoot just peeking out. It’s just the faintest tendril of a wildflower. And I stop and we kneel and bow down to the small and the enormous and the courageous and the tenacious hope that grows right under our feet.

Happy 2010!

A new year is well under way and all I can say is – Thank goodness! Last year was truly a year I would like to forget. .Just leave it behind and look forward. So far so good. January has been O.K. and February is feeling like it just might be a turning point. A chance to regroup and start to do things a little differently. I am not alone in this feeling. Many of my clients have expressed a sense of ending things that do not serve them, whether it be a job, a relationship or even the way they look at the world around them.

I was talking to a dear friend of mine who is a healer about the devastating earthquake in Haiti. She pointed out that the energy that was released and shook that ground not only sent physical shockwaves throughout the world but also emotional and spiritual tremors as well. We all feel it in our lives. Look around and see how this has infiltrated our unconscious. People seem more on edge. More prone to frustration or anger. Even here, far away from the epicenter we understand that things can shift and change in an instant.

The upheaval of the bedrock beneath us does strange things to our psyches. Some people recognize that this is a time to be able to let go of the known and familiar and move toward being more flexible and creative. Others will decide to hunker down and stay put. But whatever we do, there is no denying that our world has been shaken.

In the tarot deck, the Tower would be the obvious representation of this earthquake -  a natural disaster that has long term consequences. And the lesson of the tower is that we can now see what lies underneath all of the beliefs and structures that dominate our lives. Then comes the question – “What do I do now?” “How do I rebuild the world in me and around me?”

I heard an interview with a well known, activist musician from Haiti who offered a very insightful, spiritual, if you will, view of this catastrophe. He said that when the earthquake destroyed the government buildings which housed a very corrupt and ineffectual leadership, the people on the streets saw that as a sign of hope. Out of the ashes of despair and poverty there has grown hope for a change. Maybe, with the continued help and hope of other nations they can build a stronger, healthier and more peaceful place. I hold that hope.

When your world is shaken by the force of unseen events what do you hold onto? What beliefs lie underneath the bedrock of your life? And after the rubble has been cleared what will you do?

As we slowly head out of the grey and rain of winter it seems like a good thing to ponder. By the time the sun reappears we might have a better idea of who, what and where we are going.

It’s October and I feel slightly relieved somehow. As if the breath I’ve been holding for months can finally be exhaled. Perhaps I have decided not to wait for the other shoe to drop..cause it kinda has already. Or maybe it’s just the fact that I can now look forward to the slow, inexorable slide into darkness and winter. It’s something I can count on. I know that days will get shorter, the air will become colder and my wardrobe will gain a few layers. No problem. Any dreariness in the weather is completely expected. I’m ready.

I find that people from New England, like myself, don’t wonder if it’s gonna be a hard winter…they just know it will. Snow, sleet, bitter cold winds..sure..it’s all going to happen. So why complain? It’s part of that beautiful cycle of seasons. I’m not a fatalist. I’m not a doomsayer. I’m just a realist. There will be weather.

Most likely we’ll be getting rain. Maybe snow, if last year is any indication. For any of you who still feel scarred from the snow debacle of 08, I offer this one thought. No more Nickels. That’s it. …There, don’t you feel better? And also, as a city, Seattle will not get fooled again. The snow shovels, ice melt and tire chains will be flying off the shelves as soon as they arrive..guaranteed.

For now, I will just try to savor the precious nature of fall. It enters quietly, like a latecomer to church who takes a seat in the back and isn’t seen or heard from until the first hymn is sung. And then it stand and sings with a full, rich voice…ringing off the sky, shaking the yellow trees and making all who hear it stop and weep just a little. Cry for the inevitable changes. And then the sound slowly fades..leaving just a shadow of melody behind.

The idea that April is the cruelest month no longer works for me. August is now the real winner of that dubious sobriquet. I could point to many factors that have led me to feel this way but the only one that really matters is the death of my father. He died on August 24th at the age of 91. It was a beautiful day here in Seattle. The kind of day that makes you want to play hooky from work. The kind of day that makes you forget your worries. Full of sun and a slight breeze, that day had all the makings of a great vacation postcard. “Beautiful day, wish you were here.”

That morning I found myself on the beach at Golden Gardens with my daughter, Louisa. She and I had planned a little picnic and playtime together. I was looking forward to a cheerful, fun and relaxed day. And as luck or the universe would have it ,my cellphone rang just as a found the perfect parking space. The ensuing conversations were quick and confusing. My Dad had passed out and was on his way to the hospital. A mix of terror and dread washed through me. I struggled to get Lu out of the car, making sure we had all the trappings of a beach picnic – blanket, snacks, bucket, shovel and water bottle.

It was a surreal experience. I kept thinking, “Here I am in this incredibly beautiful place with my sweet daughter and all I can feel is a rising sense of dread.” My hands were shaking as I pushed Lu on the swing with one hand and held the phone with the other. More conversations. More questions. And finally, the answer. From the doctor at the emergency department at the hospital. He is terminal. Not dead yet but his breath is slowing and it is inevitable.

Inevitable. Right there. That’s the moment. When the world stops. When all the rational thoughts collide into chaos and things no longer make sense. When you look outside and see that the swing is still moving back and forth holding the precious weight and warmth of your child. A child, who now looks at you with confusion and concern. And you cannot find the words to explain. Back and forth, slower and slower.

I am a reader. I am an intuitive. I am an artist. And all those identities have enabled me to be open to whatever comes. So that I know that in the middle of heartbreak there may be hope. In the midst of confusion there may be insight. And in the middle of my anguish there came relief. As I held the phone, tears streaming down my face, I looked up and saw a woman that I knew. I hadn’t seen her in more than a year and it was a bit strange to see her out of context. We used to train in Kung Fu together. And now here she was walking with her two beautiful young daughters. I shouted to her and she turned and smiled until she saw my tears. Her expression turned to one of concern. I was able to haltingly explain what was going on and asked if she could push Lu in the swing while I finished my phone calls. Of course she could and within minutes her oldest daughter was gladly pushing a smiling Louisa into the air.

An angel, I thought, she is my angel. Brought here to help in my moment of crisis. How else to explain this meeting? While Lu and I waited for Nicole to arrive at the park, we all sat on the sand and had a snack. It came to light that my friend rarely visited this beach and had just decided on a whim to bring her girls down to the water to play. We marveled at the way people are brought together just when they need each other.

That day is infused with sadness and grief and the sudden shock of loss. As I write about it now my hands still shake a bit. But there is also a pervasive sense of love and care and understanding that has no words. Certainly most from my partner and my friend, but also the universe at large. Some people might say I had a guardian angel or spirit guides around me. I don’t ascribe to a particular belief in either of those but what I do know is that I am loved. I am loved and held in care by something larger and wiser.

My dad was a kind and caring man. He loved music and he was a consumate artist. His hands could design, build, create and fix anything that needed to be fixed. After President Kennedy was shot I asked my Dad if he could fix the president. I was three and believed that he could do anything.

Now that he is gone I still believe that he can do anything. Just in a different dimension. His body may be gone but his spirit continues on and I carry it with me everyday. The summer is over and I, for one am thankful to see the leaves starting to turn. It has been a strange and difficult year. But life goes on and there are new paths to walk. September seems to be kind so far.

The heat is over. For now. And I’m thankful. I just takes a few days of upper 90’s (sans AC) to make me realize mid 80’s ain’t no big thing. It’s called better living through contrast. I bless the sun because now I know what cool can feel like. We tend to learn best by what hurts, what works and what to let go of. I think it helps to realize that when life sucks and we’re in the middle of some kind of suffering we are, at the same time, learning the true nature of joy and happiness. It may be as simple the subsiding of a particular pain…or, the sudden drop of temperature – from 100 to 90. It all becomes relative. I woke up after a few oppressive days to see the thermometer firmly standing at 85 and felt a sudden surge of joy. Weird.

Now, what have I learned? That I can deal with heat? Yeah. That when I’m in the midst a hard day or hard week, I am actually getting a clue to how great life can be? Hmm.. Only if I got my awareness on. So, I just pray sometimes that I can be open and clear enough for the wisdom of relativity.

I don’t ask for hardship or heartache to help me learn but I know in the end there might be an insight or at least a good song.

It’s June and we have finally stepped over the threshold into what might be considered summer. The days have been sunny and warm and give the vague impression that we are finally done with darkness and rain. I’m going to trust that this is so. Watching the light linger over the downtown skyline till well past 8pm is a good sign.

I’ll admit that summer is not my favorite season. It may be a genetic thing (my Mom HATES hot weather) or it may be that my inner emotional compass seems to always point towards rainy, grey, introspective days. Whatever the reason, I tend to stay a bit in the shade and look out on the bright landscape with appreciation and a distant fondness. More light, more energy, more possibility. I can get behind that. And these days it seems that a brighter, more optimistic outlook is necessary.

The challenges and difficulties of the past few months have shown me that a change is needed. I need to frame this life in more healing and hopeful terms. It feels as if some great divine hand reached down and pressed the reset button in my head and left a new outgoing message. And it says, “Wake up! There is joy all around you and you’re gonna miss it if you keep waiting for disaster to happen!” I know this. I can look at my daughter who runs around the house in nothing but a t shirt and rain boots that resemble a cow (ears and tail included) and know this in the core of me. This is joy. And what right do I have to diffuse this picture with my own cloudy disposition?

There is no excuse for wallowing and I readily admit that I did some serious wallowing this spring. It did have its place and time but now I give myself over to a new and simple mantra – “Heal.” Yeah, say and think what you will. This word gets thrown about pretty regularly in the self-help section and during the local PBS pledge drive featuring Dr. Wayne Dyer.. but..to me..right now it makes sense. Healing is the reason I read. Not only for the client but for me as well. It is a win-win kinda thing. When I keep the aspect of healing foremost in my heart and head, the doors open up, the wind blows through and I can feel a change. Not only out there in the world but in me. People come and sit down at my table and open their hearts. I receive it all gratefully and realize that what I say to them is often meant for me as well.