Ask the Priestess

I often go out for a meal with some friends. In fact, that's our main activity together out of work. True, we do live in other cities and we all work hard. They, in addition, are married / in a partnership, so they have other priorities during their time off. So, we try go grab dinner after work once in a while, before we all go in different directions. Anastasia is the true leader, and she is also the one with the impressive reference list on places to eat and/or drink. She will suggest a place, and we will invariably agree. We know we will always enjoy the food, and, oftentimes, the atmosphere too. My favourites so far are Beyrouth and Portugalia , but I also really like all the others we've been to. I often recommend these places, feeling certain those who follow my suggestions will be pleased. However, I wonder whether I am a good referent. The thing is, I realised something a couple of months ago. I realised, and here I confess, that I don't really care about how uniq...

If I say "the green man", what do you think of? As I was standing by a traffic light, waiting for it to change, I was struck by how varied "the green man" can be. Not only is it a symbol for traffic, but the words also bring to mind Tom Bombadil , the Green Giant, aliens, leprechauns, and these are off the top of my head. There is something special about this connection that does not happen with its counterpart, the red man. When you look at the light, do you call it "the red man", even? I always hear parents say 'look, it's red. We must wait for the green man.'. That's it, just red.  I truly have to push myself to bring up connections. The red man could be the devil, perhaps. Or, of course, it used to be a term to mention First Nations in North America. I'm surprised it's never caught on to identify northern-European tourists on the beaches around the Mediterranean, though it could be rather fitting. But no, there really is no imm...

Sometimes, I am all worded out.  I speak, I listen, all day long as part of my profession. I leave the school building with headset on. Sometimes, I don't even switch on any sound - no radio, no YouTube, no podcast. I just need the space they provide. However, I also often dedicate much of my commute to communicating with friends and family. How to balance that? On the one hand, I don't want to talk to anyone; on the other hand, I want to keep in touch. It is a dilemma, apparently, but there really is quite a simple solution:  I send photos.  Photos are captures of moments I'm struck by a thought. Oftentimes, I'm awed by the strange odds of nature proving its will over that of mankind. In many occasions, it is the marvel of transient beauty: the overwhelming volume of layered clouds; the play of light and darkness, a reflection on a pond... Rarely do I take a photo of an animal, but it can happen: a rabbit near a parking lot; a cat sunning itself on a windowsill; a cran...

I don't work on Saturdays. Actually, I don't work Friday evenings and Saturdays. I keep my version of Shabbat. It started because of my ethno-cultural background, a connection I wanted to reinforce. The Shabbat is the time we ensure we remark upon, celebrate, empower the spiritual and divine in our lives. The idea (in a veeerryyyyy light overview) is not to engage in daily "non divine" activities. Thus, no work, no shopping, no mindless entertainment, ... and, in this modern world, a big key to this is the use of computers.  Again, religious people won't even use electricity, cook, or any of hundreds of rules. From a secular person such as myself, however, I just choose to restrict certain activities rather than completely do away with standard comfort. As I said, I don't work on the Shabbat. I don't use money either. I don't travel (unless I've promised to be there for someone else). I don't use Social Media. I don't watch films and/or ser...

When I was growing up, my name was a bane in my life. Still, I have never wanted a different one. When I read Romeo and Juliet wishing to ignore their names, I could not grasp it. Our names are very important, I believe. Even naming our pets requires a special connection, so how can naming our offspring not matter? Every quirk in our names opens a window into the lives and values of our family, our heritage, the expectations for our future. My name, Deborah, was a difficult one to carry as a child.  To begin with, the registrar decided it was "improper" since it was the name of a woman who went to war. He then proceeded to fill in my birth certificate with a name of his own choosing (Concepción, in case you're wondering). This was towards the end of the ultra-Christian Opus Dei -led Franco dictatorship, thus many may have given in. Not my parents, though, who went to court to have my name legally changed to Deborah, with that specific spelling (instead of the Spanish ...

There are many things one can do in life.  I teach languages; I have worked in offices; I've worked in shops; heck, I've even worked as a diamond grader! These are all great ways to earn a living. But I also have a "side gig" which brings me great joy. I'm a pet sitter.  It started as a favour. Someone with whom I'd worked together briefly asked me whether I'd be interested in looking after her friend's cat. It used to be her and her wife who did it, but they'd since had a child and could not help out. So I agreed. I got to spend a couple of weeks in a beautiful flat in old Amsterdam and look after a sweet older tabby boy, Primo (how very on the nose, that name).  Then, there was another favour, for another coworker's (from a different workplace) friend and her doggy. Then, it was my landlady's fish. Then, it was a colleague and their two cats. And then, it changed: Primo's mama was asked for a recommendation by her hairdresser, whose c...