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...

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...

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...

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...