Ask the Priestess

They say that we are mostly made up of water: drop, drop, drop,... pond, lake, river, ocean. We, humans, are made up of water. What does it mean, to be made up of water? Would it really matter, if we were mostly air? Would we then believe more in spirits and sprites, see faeries and not call ourselves mad? What if we were made up of granite, would that make us titans but not humans?  We seem intent in making sure that we can be identified with something beyond ourselves, something larger, something unafraid. Water is, indeed, 3/4 of Earth's surface, and where air and fire can be tamed, water on the move is unstoppable. I wonder whether that is the main reason we want to define our components, and feel comfort in repeating it: we are mostly made up of water.  Water, the element identified with emotion, under the auspices of the moon; temperamental, crystalline, salty, sweet, life giving. We are water, thus more than a drop - we are gases but not air, minerals but not...

I am always grateful for the amazing people in my life. Often enough, though, I feel I don't do them justice. I mean, it's just me being me most of the time, so what's there to be got from being my friend? I suppose a self-definition of this ilk is an example of woeful self-deprecation - not necessarily a good thing, despite standard religious education. In fact, I have often realised it is a smoke screen to myself, as many others I use, mostly unaware. But, why would I make use of such a tool? To help ask myself, of course! Or, if not of course, at least it is what I have come to think, considering the amount of questions the strategy has brought up just by making its presence known. Ask myself. Yeah, that sounds deep and important enough. Still... does it matter? Does it matter if I discover some dark reason hidden in the darkness of my forgotten memories? Would my life change dramatically by shedding light on the very instant I first recognised my jealousy, or sa...

There are few things as wonderful as a few hours spent sharing with a friend, running trough the whole range of feeling, from joy to anger to pain. It is such a simple blessing, so easy to attain: meet up with a friend, chat and share. Today I have had such an experience, I've been blessed once again. And I have been reminded why it is so essential to follow one's heart, to put love/friendship/family/passion/you-name-it first and before all else. Seriously, it could have been so easy to be waylaid by the myriad elements in the day - the delay leaving work, the fact that I was feeling guilty for the previous week, the busy days ahead, the tasks that have not been finished as I would want to finish them, the coworker feeling lost whom I have not saved, dot. Dot. DOT. So ominous, to know the list could be continued, that I can always find another reason to flagellate myself and forgo my choice, postpone my time with my friend. So empowering, to a point even funny, to realise...

Time is one of those things we all know to be a construct: hours exist only in clocks, days change at sunset or sunrise or in the middle of the night. And today, after three years, time compressed yet again. It is true what they say, that a minute can be the longest time in the world, and a lifetime but a sigh. Today, once again, I have my attention drawn to the fact that Mam died three years ago, and it feels unbelievable that it could already be so long, and still feel so untrue - as though I could just pick up the phone (or get on Skype) and have a chat. But no. Time, that wonderful trickster, is also a surprising healer. In its unreality, it knows whatever we cling onto is but a phantom; so it works its magic and lulls us to complaisance. And once we're strong enough, it lets us open our eyes and poof ! we have reached another era. It makes sure we are so busy following its ticking that our hearts will beat to its rythms, sustaining us, tying us to life. I am grateful to ...