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 ...

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...

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 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,...

We all cover ourselves, a logical activity to protect ourselves from the elements. In these cold winter days, particularly if like me you live in a snowy, wet country, layers and layers become caring hugs, warm embraces, portable nests. There are few things more certain to win a sigh of contentment than a frostbitten nose hiding behind a furry scarf, the ice melting in the vapour of one's own body heat. And therein lies the question: have we taken all this love of layers and protection too far for our own good? Certainly, we need to shield our bodies from the weather. That is indisputable, even foolish to consider otherwise (at least, I'd think that of anyone who decides to go out in a blizzard wearing short sleeves, for example).  However, it seems to me that we have taken to adapting the practice to areas of ourselves beyond the merely bodily. We have become, in fact, adept at layering our every reality, every aspect of our personalities, of our thoughts, of our spirits....