Ask the Priestess

Dear Universe, I thought it would be a good idea to send you a little 'Thank You' note, as it is considered good manners when receiving some present or other. But, when I actually sat down to it, I realised that 'a little note' would not do. So, here I am writing a long letter which, I suspect, will only manage to cover the most superficial/obvious Gifts you have bestowed. Actually, let me begin with those: Thank You, Universe, for my family, partner and friends. They are a surprising group, a collection of amazing individuals whom I love and who, wonderfully, love me back! I learn from them, sometimes despite them and myself both, how to become a (hopefully) better person. I have rarely had to make a great effort to acquire any of these Gift-people, for which my Mam often chides me (she claims I don't appreciate them, but I do, I really do!), while they are a priceless source of Joy. I would like to list them, along with the qualities that make them so worthy;...

The long silence over, I am back at my keyboard. I am back to try and keep up a "dialogue" with whoever is reading this out there. I must confess, though, that I have been thinking long and hard about the loneliness of writing. And I have reached no conclusive answer. I do have an inkling, however. I have always loved both reading and writing. I have loved the intimacy, the quiet it brings, the doors it opens - French windows allowing access to a fantastic landscape of improbable possibilities. It is a haven, a bolthole, a hideaway from the world around, from the pressures of daily life, from triggers of frustration. What, then, has made it different and changed my comfy sofa by a warming fire into a jagged rock on the side of a mountain? I believe it is related to my decision to engage in writing on a "serious" basis. This blog, which I started with the intention of updating twice a week, at least, means my optional escape is now a demanding stage. I suppose I ...

In recent times I have had amazing examples of generosity all around me. I am both awed and somewhat uncertain about how I would react in similar situations. Over all, however, I am Grateful to be recipient or witness to the episodes. Oftentimes, we hear about how horrid, how mean people are in this 'tough world', so I would like to make a little list (not all the wonderful episodes are here, but only a selection) to illustrate how, on the contrary, the world is populated with generous people. A month ago I set up to meet with a friend at a museum. I did not know that it charges entry fees, as most London museums are free. We had agreed to meet, yet I had to tell her I had to call it off for the time being, as I was skint (broke, in other words). Immediately she offered to pay for the ticket - it is a year-long entry fee, it turns out. No fuss, no unwelcome grand gestures. I agreed, grateful and touched. I was a wonderful visit, which I hope we will repeat soon! Another i...

It is snowing, and Christmas is on the radio and the markets. I often wonder at my own response to the idea of a White Christmas, at how it ties me to my past, my cultural origins, family members I never met - never even knew/will know they existed - who either believed or didn't yet felt emotional at the flurries, the carols, the sight and smell of the trees draped in sparkles, in baubles, in hopes, in childish wishes met whenever possible. I know rather well the whole history behind the stories: the mythology, the astrology, the astronomy, the anthropology... All that study throughout the fields of humanity that strives to explain the reality. My brain knows it, my logic understands it, my own personal choice of belief acts in accordance... All that to ultimately reach out in joy at the first flakes, to react with a giggling heart-rate to the first beats of a seasonal song. I am no more "grown up and jaded" than a toddler! Squee! And, d'you wanna know something?...

I have quite a few elements from daily life which regularly remind me of what I honestly believe in but sometimes seem to doubt. One of those "elements" is bus drivers. Let's face it, we have all been in a situation where we have ranted and raved about bus drivers, bus services, and what nots. Most often, said drivers appear sour-faced, unfriendly, short tempered, impatient... Who wouldn't, in their shoes? Stock brokers who complain of stress at work should have a a reality check with these guys/gals: driving all day in circles with few and far-between toilet breaks at set times (rather than answering to immediate need). Not only that, they have to do so while struggling to keep up with a fantasy-inspired schedule that inevitably brings frustration and complaints from both passengers and supervisors. To top it all up, they have to spend all that time trapped in traffic jams surrounded by aggressive SUVs, unexpected motorbikes and vulnerable cyclists. Still, I hav...

We often dismiss things as being only "skin deep" - insignificant, superficial, not really felt, non-threatening. Ha! Our skin is the largest organ in our wondrous bodies; it is superficial but multi-layered, multi-characteristic and colourful according to area and sensory requirements; has more nerve-endings than any other organ; and it is our true "first line of defense" which, if infected or over-exposed, might break down until it, unsuspectingly and unwittingly, kills us. My feelings are skin deep, and from that moment on, they seep in, they burst out. My skin remembers, writing itself with lines, colours, textures. It talks, tells, warns, encourages. A palm-reader can describe my destiny as though looking at a hieroglyph, and a doctor can tell how much sun I took as a child. An angry red splotch, an enticing blush, a shiver. My skin speaks loud and honest, like the tail of a dog. I trust my skin when I doubt my mind. It does not know how to lie. And yet...

When we want to express love, how can we best go about it?  How do we best understand to ourselves, how do we explain it? In English, love is sort of either an accident, a prison or a war: you fall in love, you are attached to someone, or you conquer the one you want. In some mediterranean languages, love is actually quite circular, looping back as it reaches brfore going back to oneself: lehitahev (Hebrew), s'enamourer (French) or enarmorarse (Spanish). I don't know other languages, but I wonder... At the end of the day, it is feeling that best expresses the plethora of facets love has. It is the message in Extreme's 'More than words'. So why do we need still the words? Why do I sometimes crave hearing them? And why is it specially difficult to tell myself that I love myself when I look into the mirror? Probably, because unlike the love of your parents, who can hug you; or your lover, who can kiss your body; or your friends, who show their appreciation in ma...