It happened at a recent Meetup. One of my fellow students of Tarot read her cards with fluttering hands and plenty of mystical drama. Normally, I would chalk it up to personal style and perhaps find it amusing. This time, it irritated me.

Why? If I needed to justify my feeling, I’d point to the way she spouted prognostications as set-in-stone truths. This precludes free will and thus violates my code as a Tarot reader.

But that very afternoon, I’d rolled my eyes while telling a friend about a client’s infatuation with the mystical trappings commonly assigned to the intuitive and psychic sides of life.

What was my beef?

Time to look in the mirror

Truth is, I was once as infatuated as my client. And while I’ve not indulged in the kind of hand-fluttering as my fellow reader, I recognize it as a symptom of the same thing.

It seemed my irritation stemmed from being reminded of a version of myself I’ve left behind. But if I’d truly left it behind, I’d feel compassion rather than irritation.

My irritation carried the ugly whiff of judgment. And now that I’ve noticed it, other examples are popping up. They represent different areas of my past/beliefs/self-image. Facing these mirrors challenges me. It’s uncomfortable to admit to feeling judgmental, of myself and/or of others.

It helps to remind myself that I’ve grown–I’m experiencing these feelings from a perspective never before possible for me.

In other words, it’s okay to be where I am today. It’s merely my opportunity to embrace what I see in the mirror, and to appreciate the people who show it to me.

What are your mirrors showing lately? How do you handle it?

A friend was treating me to lunch, and just reading the menu made me salivate. How would I choose?

She suggested I asked to have the chef surprise me. What a great idea! I asked for something from the “nosh” category and an entree.

Elevating “special” to “memorable”

The presence of a friend I’d not seen in far too long, combined with fanciness of the place (and that she was treating!) would have been plenty to make the day special. Add in the “surprise me” game and we had ourselves a high time.

Rather than turn my “50 New Things” project into a blog about food (rather than the full range of experiences I intend to include), I’ll simply say this about the things that turned up at our table: decidedly drool-worthy. Yum.

Will I play this game again? Absolutely. It needn’t be a restaurant-only game, either. Imagine playing it in the bookstore. At the movie theater. In the airport. I can’t wait to see what else these two words might bring me.

But this year, I’m trying 50 new things. It’s a perfect time to put old prejudices up for review. Bivalves are getting a second chance. It began on my birthday, when two foodie friends presented me with brined, butter-seared scallops as part of a to-die-for five-course dinner.

And now, oyster nachos from Fish City Grill. A friend’s description had me drooling, so we shared a plate.

A burst of taste and texture

My friend had not exaggerated. For while the menu gives us only 9 descriptive words–”Fried oysters, chipotle tartar sauce, fresh pico de gallo”–I hereby declare them Divinity on a plate!

My apologies to bivalves everywhere. It’s not you, it’s the cook.

Turns out it’s fun, questioning old assumptions. It feels good to admit to an old injustice and let it go, thus lightening the load. And what easier (or yummier) place to practice than with what’s on our dinner plates?

I recommend the oyster nachos.

Because it’s not my first-ever move, I’m not counting the relocation as one of my birthday new things. But it’s the first time I’m moving into a house, rather than an apartment. And it’s the first time I’m going to be a roommate (other than college dorm living). Lots and lots of new things in store, I’m sure.

Thanks, campsite. I’m on my way

Today, I collected the last few things from the old place and turned in my keys. After having lived there so long, I thought I might feel pangs on leaving, but nope. It felt more like rolling out of a gorgeous campsite after a satisfying stay.

…but I offered a ritual farewell

Though I was tired and interested in moving on to all the unpacking awaiting me at the new place, I took a few minutes to sip a cold Blackberry Izze and really appreciate the empty shell that had been my shelter and sanctuary. I walked the perimeter of each room, expressing my thanks and wishing it well.

Heck, even my hibiscus plant expressed its gratitude. It was blooming today, blowing kisses all the way across town to our new home.

Life among stacks of boxes makes it easy to lose sight of how much I shed in preparation for this move. Even when I can’t see it, though, I feel it. I found new homes for about 60% of my furniture and half of my belongings.

I feel freed. Could this be what it means to become en-lightened? Hee!

The show in question was about Human Design, a self-discovery tool I’d heard about last year listening to Benjamin Bernstein’s wonderful “This Week In Astrology” podcast. After that show, I’d emailed his guest, Hal Bahr, for a copy of my Human Design chart.

That action put me on Hal’s email list and I learned he’d be on a show with Kim Gould. The show date came and went. I’d forgotten it. Oh, well, I thought, it must not have been important for me to hear it.

Second chances wear funny clothes

Yesterday, I heard the original show date had been scrapped due to technical problems, and they’d try again today. Seemed the Universe wasn’t done with me.

I called and voila, I was on air. They were charming and helpful. I took notes, said thank you and that was that.

Short version of what I learned from the hosts: Mars and Venus occupy the same spot in my Human Design, but unsurprisingly, they express it very differently. For my Mars, different = dangerous. By contrast, my Venus maintains a fearless trust in a greater unanimity and an ability to find value in apparent differences.

I trust her to soothe my Mars as I fling myself into my 50 New Things in my 50th Year adventure.

[Awhile back, I announced my intention to celebrate my 50th birthday year by trying 50 new things. This post contributes to my chronicle of some of those new things.]

My hometown boasted a major brewery, and yet I never developed a taste for beer. I tried it plain, I tried it specialty, I tried it dark, but even when it was served very, very cold, it just didn’t suit me.

Beer masquerading as champagne

So imagine my surprise when I got home from my birthday party, peeked into the wine-bottle-tall gift bag a friend had left with me and discovered not wine, but Belgian beer. Specifically, Lindeman’s Framboise Lambic.

The packaging brings to mind sparkling wine and some beer-loving friends of mine declared it apt. “Imagine if raspberries, beer and champagne had a baby, they said. “This would be it.”

I set out a few glasses and we poured the reddish and quite foamy framboise. Mercy, me. I have found a beer I enjoy!

Thirteen years = time to shed skin

I haven’t moved residence since December 1998, thirteen years ago. And though I’ve been consciously uncluttering for the last few years, moving plans have me questioning every thing. “Does this thing represent the energy I want to bring with me into my future life? Does it fit with who I am becoming?”

Somehow, I doubt I’ll wait another 13 years to ask myself such fundamental questions. Rather, I suspect that the massive shedding of old possessions/perceptions will free me in ways I can’t begin to imagine. It’s both scary, and very exciting.

My birthday wish for this year is to try 50 new things. No doubt this move will give me a head start on that list.

What are you doing for a fresh start this year?

Richard Unger believes your whorls, loops and arches provide invaluable tools of self discovery. He’s the founder of the International Institute of Hand Analysis and author of Lifeprints: Deciphering Your Life Purpose from Your Fingertips.

At its simplest, your prints place you in one of four life schools, here to learn either:

• Joyful service
• Emotional mastery
• To commit to your ideas
• To feel safe (peaceful) in your body and on the planet

Assigning the life school seems a matter of counting how many prints are arches or loops or whatever. The school provides the context or training ground for your life lesson and highest potential.

As for figuring one’s lesson and purpose, I gather that different fingers carry different ranks. A skilled reader can weigh the results and combine them to craft a full report.

I gave it a whorl

My friend PJ Spur, a gifted teacher/coach/counsellor, is studying the Lifeprints process. Her report on my hands provided lots to think about.

Right off the bat, my school surprised me. I’d guessed Wisdom. I was wrong, yet I can absolutely see the school my prints point to. (Turns out I’m all whorls and loops–only my sense of humor is arch.) The report includes some nice reassurance, too:

You cannot get to your Life Purpose without making Life Lesson errors. Not only can you not stop yourself from making certain types of miscalculations, it is actually in your interest to do so.

I’m still digesting the life purpose the report lays out. If I’d been given this report at age 30, I’d have laughed. Only a fraction of the material would make sense to me. (So I reckon it’s arrived with perfect timing.)

Closing meditations on what my prince prints revealed

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter whether Mr. Unger’s system is accurate. The advice my report offered for mastering the lesson it spells out is sound. I suspect that if the system had delivered a different lesson, the advice would still be worth taking.

Throughout the system, there’s an emphasis on personal accountability, continuous learning and the willingness to embrace paradox. Pretty sound principles on which to build a life, in my opinion.

For that matter, every one of the life schools hold value. So I ask you, which of the four schools–service, love, wisdom or peace–would you guess your hands reveal for you?

I’ll try 50 new things

Mid-century seems prime time for new scenery, new experiences, new friends, new attitudes. I want to stoke the fires of my curiosity, creativity and appreciation. I’d love your company on this journey, and right now, I need your help.

To try 50 new things in one calendar year, that’s almost one a week! I need ideas both big and small.

Help me brainstorm the 50 things! Send me your suggestions, your recipes, your band recommendations, your craft patterns, your resource links, your secret dreams. If you want to join me and share the experience, let me know. I love company.

Please leave a comment/send an email

Share your ideas as comments on this post, or email me through the contact form on my Connect page. Tell your friends. Ask your family members. Poll your coworkers. If it’s legal, I’ll consider it.

Thank you!

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?