What if?

Giant marshmallows. What if they were bears?

What if bears were made of marshmallow?

Would they melt in the summer heat?

What if policemen had to sing every interaction?

Would they give more tickets, or would stage fright keep them at bay? Would the number of arrests go down?

What if America adopted a four-day work week?

Would productivity go up? Would job satisfaction? Would hiring?

A policeman croons into a microphone.

What if I had a clear channel to my story world and all its characters?

How much time would I spend there each day? Would I disappear into it, forgetting to eat, go to the bathroom or shower? Would they follow me back through, pestering me to help them through their problems, weeping and whining about the obstacles in their path? Would I ever be able to write “the end” and leave them there? Perhaps I’d need to be rescued—have someone from this side stage an intervention or a shamanic soul retrieval. Close the portal. Let me edit and publish and move on. I don’t know, but I’d like to find out. I’d like to be enmeshed in a story, writing furiously and thinking about the characters when I’m not.

Sky-high beehive hairdo.

What if gravity let up, just a tenth of a tenth of a unit of however they measure gravity?

Would it revolutionize shoe design? What about transportation? Would cars lose their grip on the road? Would we create higher doorways and steeper stairways? What would happen to hair stylists’ jobs? Or plastic surgeons’? Would the demand for boob jobs decline?

What if more people got on board with the practice of telepathy?

Would we be less celebrity obsessed and perhaps living with fewer bad habits? I imagine we’d all start living in integrity, just because it’s less work than trying to lie to the self and everyone else.

But now I’m back to marshmallow bears. Would coyotes eat them? Would they develop diabetes?


Photo credits:
Marshmallow, Kate Ter Haar
Singing police, Elvert Barnes
Sky-high beehive, Francine

Do you look for messages in dreams?

Two crows perch in a tree
Freud is famous for (possibly) saying, “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” Dreams don’t always mean something.

But my favorite game is to ask, “If there were a message for me here, what would it be?” With dreams, you have to play right away, or the details will be lost. I’ll often narrate the dream to my cat upon waking, because speaking it helps me remember.

Why I don’t rely on dream books for interpretations

Dream dictionaries seldom help with this game because symbols in dreams are personal. For example, a dream featuring a baby. To an artist, it could represent a new creative project that needs nurturing. To an overworked manager, could represent a time-consuming responsibility. To a hopeful mother, it could represent a promise of pregnancy, and to a grieving mother, regret and loss. Etc.

My murder of crows

Last night, I dreamt of a tree full of crows. The tree stood between me and a place I visited often. As I approached the tree, crows flew toward me. I dropped to the ground and covered my head to protect my face. But the crows flew right on by.

Seems the crows were saying, It’s not about you.

Turning big symbols into personal tools

I should have known the crows weren’t a threat to me. Earlier in the dream, I’d shared coffee and conversation with someone at a table beneath that tree. So why the paranoia? And perhaps the more interesting question, why was “saving face” my primary concern?

(You can see why I’m a fan of narrating dreams and listening to the details I choose. That’s how things like saving face show up, along with other personal symbols unlikely to be in a dream dictionary.)

And connecting the dots

I’m reminded of my real-life crow visitation, about a year and a half ago. I saw that as a call to find magic in everyday things. But I used a book for that interpretation. If it happened today, I might see my food-carrying crow as a prompt to pay attention to juicy opportunities.

Could having dream crows fly past me indicate great opportunities I’ve failed to notice? Perhaps I tend to miss seeing opportunities that don’t mesh with my precious self-image (to bring saving face back into it).

Lots to think about.

You say you don’t remember your dreams?

A couple of things you can do to get better at it:

  • Before you turn out the light, set an intention to remember
  • Before you get up, spend your muzzy-headed minutes fishing for dream memories
  • Anything you get, speak it out loud. Write notes ASAP
  • Keep a notepad, pen and small flashlight handy for mid-night captures
  • Practice

Once you’ve nailed one, play the game. Bring friends.

A couple of my friends make great dream sounding boards. They catch things like saving face if I miss them. Maybe you’ve got similarly perceptive friends who can listen to you describe your dream and help you play the “if-it-had-a-message-for-me” game.

Have fun. Dream big.


Photo credit: SqueakyMarmot

Gift certificates available

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Tuck one of my new gift certificates into a lovely metallic gold envelope (included) and voila, you’ve gift-wrapped a personalized experience of insight and perspective. Your loved one can redeem anytime within a year of your purchase.

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Gift outside the box

The gift of Tarot works for all the traditional gift giving occasions, such as birthdays, showers and graduation. It’s also a great way to encourage and support family or friends who feel a little lost, or are in the throes of massive personal growth.

Order them right here on the Tarot Readings page.

Dreams of the missing body part

If you’ve ever put a part of you “on the shelf,” whether you did it consciously or unknowingly, you may relate to this one.

In my dream, I was a student in a perpetual state of rushing from one thing to the next. As I hurriedly collected my belongings to move to a new place, I discovered my midsection—a large section of my body, from my groin up to the bra band. I had removed it in some earlier rushed moment and thoughtlessly stashed among my stuff.

Now, here it was. Cold and clammy. And of all the things running through my dream self’s mind, from “ewwww,” to “uh-oh, I should have put that on ice to keep it fresh because I’m going to want to reattach it,” to “huh, it’s lighter than I expected it to be,” the most disturbing aspects to my waking self were that:

  • I had done it myself and didn’t want anyone to know. (Therefore, I was hesitant to seek help recovering it.)
  • I was in a hurry and felt annoyed to be faced with having to make a decision about this.

Unlike the dream about glass walls and turquoise, the meaning of this one eluded me upon waking. Some insightful friends have been helping me out, and here’s my current understanding.

When we give our power away

In addition to some fairly crucial organs and skeletal structures, our lower torsos are home to the second and third chakras, important personal energy centers. Removing them from my body was the same as giving away my creativity and personal power.

I’ll bet you can think of any number of occasions when you’ve done this. At one point, I had a job where I did this all day, every day. Willingly. Looking back, I don’t think the job required it. It was my choice.

Regardless, the dream said it’s time to reintegrate, to become whole, to take back the part of me I treated so carelessly. And yep, it feels scary and inconvenient. And yep, I feel a tad ashamed to have ever separated. But unlike my dream self, I’m confessing publicly.

Seeking hidden treasure

Do you have parts waiting to be rediscovered? Maybe they’re feelings that didn’t feel “safe,” so you’ve stashed them away. Or opinions that were pooh-poohed when you were younger.

How long has it been since you checked in with all that secret stuff? Could be there’s something there that’s ready for your loving acceptance. It’s a beautiful dream, isn’t it?


Photo credit: Alaskan Dude

Help upon awakening

If you are among the many of us experiencing a heart awakening, you’ve likely been overwhelmed by other people’s anxiety or fear. That’s why boundaries are important. But I don’t want to wall out everyone. I want to stay as open as possible—present and compassionate—without soaking up all the ick that folks are releasing.

So I’ve been asking for help, and this morning, I received it in a dream.

Objectively, the dream made no sense, but there was no question it carried a message. As soon as I woke, I wrote down all the details I could remember.

My turquoise dream

I stood inside…

  • A glass-faced building (like a car dealership), looking out through
  • Automatic sliding doors (like a grocery store).
  • A number of round turquoise balls (like Chinese lanterns)
  • Were hanging from the ceiling
What I took from it
  • It’s possible to be transparent to the world around you while still being protected. (Me in a glass structure.)
  • You can let things in and out as you choose. (The doors.)
  • Turquoise gem stones can provide exactly this kind of protection. (The lanterns.)
  • Try wearing them on your body, perhaps as earrings. (The ceiling.)

After writing this down, I went to check my gemstone book. Here’s a bit of what it said:
“Turquoise connects physical and spiritual awareness. Develops inner strength and calm. Stabilizes. Heals the emotions and the emotional body. Traditionally used for protection.”

You can bet I’m wearing turquoise earrings today!

If this information benefits you as well, I’m thrilled. Heck, once I catch a glimpse of your turquoise jewelry, I’ll even invite you into my glass house for a cup of tea. Just step on that mat—the door opens automatically.


Photo credit: futureshape

Entering the dark of the year

With the days noticeably shorter and Halloween spookiness fills our awareness, it’s natural to reflect on where we’ve been and what we’ve lost. To mourn our dead and dig in for winter.

Astrology reinforces the theme. Last weekend, the sun entered Scorpio, a sign known for going deep into the Mysteries with a capital M. It happens to be my rising sign, making Pluto–god of the Underworld–the ruler of my chart. You could say I’ve some experience in going deep.

Which is why I know that there is no death without rebirth. Every sorrow teaches us something, if only we’re open to receiving its gifts.

Stuff that won’t stay buried

Today, I felt called to visit my neighborhood coffee shop. I asked the Tarot, “what time is it?” and received the same answer I got when I did my new moon reading on Wednesday. The cards told me, “It’s time to stop denying the pain of old wounds.”

My past holds gifts I’ve not yet mined. They’re contained in old hurts, and I must acknowledge the pain. Only then can it be transformed into new awareness. Now that I’ve received the message, I won’t ignore the guidance. My journal pages are taking a beating this week.

How to go after your own buried gifts

What about you? What pain have you buried? Halloween is the perfect time of year to transform it into a treat that will sweeten your life going forward. A playful way to do it would be dressing up as your pain (or the thing that caused it) and let it play out over the course of the night. Too intense? Scream. You’ll feel better, and trick-or-treaters will love it..

(A personal note to my table-mates at the coffee shop. Please call me when you’re ready for a Tarot reading. I would love to help you.)


Moon photo: Goddard Photo and Video

“Trust the Universe”

Receiving vs. acting

Recent weeks find me sleeping a lot (except for the nights I lay in sleepless meditation, but that’s a different post, which I may get around to writing one day).

Isn’t sleep more suited to winter than the frenzied growth of spring? Especially when my life’s circumstances seem to be demanding not sleep, but rather Very Serious Action?

(I see a few of you nodding. See? You’re not alone!)

New month, new moon, new energy

Tuesday, I laid out Eowyn’s New Moon Tarot Spread. This time, I did it twice, using two different Tarot decks, looking for patterns between the different cards and their positions.

There were lots of parallels, both deck-to-deck and in connections between what I was seeing and what I’ve been experiencing.

The star of the show was the card shown here from the Light & Shadow Tarot deck by Brian Williams and Michael Goepferd—a wealthy, abundant 9 of Cups.

Do good things come to those willing to receive?

The week before the new moon, an awakened friend related to me how she lucked into a luxurious, beautiful place to live, mere hours before she’d be forced to move from her temporary home, she said, “I really had to trust the Universe on this one!”

In describing her experience, she seemed to be relaying a message especially for me. And boom, the new moon shows me the plump and well satisfied 9 of Cups. As soon as I saw the card, I heard my friend’s voice.

People, more people, and dead people

Since then, social opportunities have been flooding in. Ideas are perking. My need for sleep seems to be easing. Even my dreams are bearing messages from “the other side.” (The night before the new moon, I received dreamtime thanks and blessings from someone whose hospice care I’d supported before her death almost exactly a year ago.)

Something is afoot. What it is, I can’t yet say, but I hearby declare myself willing to receive.

It’s going to be an another amazing month.

What’s inspiring you? What messages are crossing your path? Heard from any “long lost” sources lately?