Ask the Priestess

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 ...

I don't have children. I only ever desired them for a short few months, some time after moving to the UK. It was a sudden and surprising desire, but I assumed it was the proverbial "biological clock ticking" though it was not loud enough to change my lifestyle. Soon after, I read somewhere (I have lost the source, I'm sorry. I'll attach a link to a related study here ) that there is a suspected link between loneliness and wanting children. Children are perceived as gifts, as constant company, and knowing we have a being fully dependent on us makes us feel worthy. This makes perfect sense to me, and it explains why the craving was so short-lived as well as easily set aside: I simply didn't need them to boost my self-worth any more than I needed constant company. The thought came back a couple of times afterwards, either as a result of witnessing friends have their own offspring, or as symbols for a wish to create an impact. The weight of social belonging, where...

Oh, yes, the dream of the tropical paradise, who hasn't heard of it? Basically, it's the same as the kitschy Xmas film, or the documentaries on the lifestyles of the rich and famous in Hollywood: it's eternal playtime, people have time to meet and greet, life's easy. I live in a hot climate, and can get to a beach in about 40 minutes by public transport. The rain is measured in mm/year, and palm trees are native to the area. It's a 1st World country, so I have all mod-cons. Basically, it's quite close to the basic requirements of the dream. So, do I live in paradise? Well, no, I do not. For one thing, I don't like the heat and miss the seasons. Also, being fair-skinned, I cannot really go to the beach too often, at least not during sunlight time. Additionally, I have a job! Which, I agree, is wonderful in that I'm done at 4 pm, thus I have a lot of free time every day; but, still, it's not like I am on holidays every day. Plus, yes, there are ...

Last week, it was my birthday, but I was away for a week, so when I came back to work today, I got all the best wishes. I thanked my coworkers, then went on with my life. I don't really get why people celebrate birthdays. Actually, I do, but only for people who've had a life-threatening scare or are fighting a life condition, which they have overcome (maybe just for now, but a day at a time). In these cases, the people have sort of 'earned' the understanding of what an amazing achievement completing another solar year really means. For the rest of us, who simply live by inertia, unconsciously grateful for modern medicine and a comfortable environment, it has no real meaning. So, why was I away last week, if not to celebrate my birthday? To celebrate life. In a few days, it will be my mother's 7th death anniversary, and my sister and I decided it was time to let her last remains go free, as she loved being. We decided to release her ashes, close that cycle. Mor...

There is a song by Spanish group Amaral , whose lyrics go something like 'without you, I am nothing / a drop of water wetting my face / my world is small and my heart is shards of ice'. I liked the music, thus I didn't pay much attention to the lyrics until Maite , a friend, called this a song by 'Amar mal' (to love badly, unwisely). It has been years since that quip, yet it still keeps me alert to my own conditioning. I am hardly the first person, let alone the most qualified, to point out how very unhealthy most 'romantic love stories' and 'romantic gestures' truly are. And no, I do not blame cinema or pulp fiction, since they are simply providing that which the consumer will buy. Love is another one of those marvelous elements of life, like food, dance, parenthood, even alcohol or adrenaline (to name but a few) that make us, humans, reach the highest peaks of joy and excitement for our mere existence. Love, like all of the others, has been basta...

This 12th October, 2016 is a fabulous parallel to the conflicts I find within my identity. On the one hand, today is  Yom Kippur - Day of Atonement. Observant Jews, and many secular ones as well, have been fasting since yesterday afternoon. It is 26 hours of no food, drink (even water), smoking, driving, fun... It is the time to reconsider the last year, become aware of one's mistakes and wherever we may have injured others; a time of honest soul-searching whilst hoping that God will consider us worthy of being in the book of life for another year. Here, in Israel, the country is at a standstill - there are no cars on the roads, no radio or television broadcasts, no open businesses, no music, no groups of people sharing a fag. Not only are many people fasting, but the whole nation is remembering also the beginning of the Yom Kippur War , a conflict that was both psychologically and politically decisive for the country and the world at large. In Spain, where I was born and ra...

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...

There are many places we live in, work in, have fun in, suffer in. There are cities, villages, fields, seas. What I have realised recently, though, is that within those places, there are also spaces. And it is those spaces that hold the real meaning of our memories and reactions. It is the spaces, not the places, that matter. For example, I live in London (UK). Now, London is a huge city and, more importantly, the only one of its kind I like (at least, of all those I have visited or live in). It is full of different nationalities, flavours, architecture, culture... and also of racial disagreements, bad housing, lack of manners, dirty streets. Yet, when I say I like or love London, depending on the mood, I mostly relate to specific spaces of London. So, what do I love about London? The South Bank on a stroll, the lower floor of the Royal Festival Hall where you can see people practise dance, the museums on a school day, the Candid Arts Café and Kenwood House for a cup of tea,...

And so, the year ended. Another year, another end. Another beginning. As a species, we have the marvelous gift of creating new starting points for our lives. We set up dates and hours when we make a cycle end and another commence. Thus, most cultures have set 'new year days' that somehow become momentous despite a certain amount of arbitrary definition. The most arbitrary, interestingly, is the most widespread - the celebration of 31st December/1st January threshold. I mean, after all, the year itself was designed for an emperor and re-designed for a pope. Not really something that really concerns most of us, let alone the flow in nature. And yet, this pivot point IS powerful. Despite the randomness, despite the awkwardness of ending a 12th month named after a 10th by replacing it with a month named after a god, and even despite our modern scientific thinking, it is powerful. We gather together, we party, we are enveloped in good will to each other, we revise our lives an...