Ask the Priestess

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...

I'm used to being strong and healthy. Sure, I have had issues over the years, but in general, I'd say I've enjoyed mostly health. I also used to do a relatively nice amount of exercise - not machines, more yoga, Pilates, swimming and walking. Then, a couple of years ago, that changed. I find that I have to take days off because I'm dizzy, so I cannot function comfortably. I also realise eating junk leaves me exhausted, moody, and that I 'have to pay' for it. Worse of all, the whole situation means I struggle to do any exercise, which in turn pushes me to feel less able to enjoy being in my own skin. Of course, I know that it is a reality, that it happens. One minor complaint left unattended led to another, seemingly unrelated, condition. On and on, until I am so far away from the initial point, that I appear lost in a maze of my own frustrations. Because, in all honesty, the worst thing of it all is the frustration. Sure, being unwell is painful and uncomf...

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...

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...

We learn that to love is to hold. Thinking about it simply, I would agree. After all, hugs are a favourite of mine: hugging, cuddling, snuggling... You can feel the tenderness, the warmth, the joy of them in their very shapes - all requiring a double consonant, like a hug needs two of us. The beauty of an embrace is as mystical as well known, for it can save a life (as it does premature children - see link below), heal our souls as well as our bodies (another link), and enables us to express the greatest depths of love when words fail us - a parent holding its child, friends reuniting, supporting the bereaved or celebrating victory, all are inextricably linked to the wealth of love of the hug (no, no web link - unless you choose to send one in a comment.) But then, hold, now that can be a bit trickier. You can be held captive, or enthralled; hostage, or in amazement; in contempt or in the highest regard. So, which hold is love? Hold has, sadly, a connotation of strength, of ...