Love Stuff

My birth tarot card is The Lovers.  When I discovered this a number of years ago, I was mildly shocked, because being half of a loving couple has eluded me all my life.  But The Lovers in the major arcana of the tarot does not necessarily mean finding true love with another.
When I read tarot for young people in the throes of hormonal upheaval (frequently confused with the search for a soul mate), they get very excited and think they're about to bond with or meet their one-and-only.  That's true only part of the time.
The primary meaning of The Lovers is union, harmony of opposites, and resolution of inner conflicts, often referred to as the "inner marriage."  Self-love means a person is whole and complete unto themselves.
When I finally embraced my status as a spinster, I knew I was on the road to loving and forgiving myself.  So today I celebrate self-acceptance and self-love.  I wish you the same.

To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.
- Oscar Wilde

Blessed be.
- G.P.

Swan Flake

I'm obsessed with swans lately.  It's another sign, totem, spirit guide or what-you-will that's entered my life and is now taking up a lot of space in my mind.  I don't have a problem with that.  Swans are beautiful, graceful creatures, and dwelling on the qualities of grace and beauty is far preferable to worrying about things like global warming or the Syrian refugee crisis.
This lovely turn of mind happened because I came upon a poem by Rilke called "The Swan."  The particular translation I first read is by Robert Bly, and since I found the words both meaningful and mellifluous, I'm using Bly's exquisite version here.  It adds some class to this little web of mine.

The Swan

This clumsy living that moves lumbering
as if in ropes through what is not done,
reminds us of the awkward way the swan walks.

And to die, which is the letting go
of the ground we stand on and cling to every day,
is like the swan, when he nervously lets himself down
into the water, which receives him gaily
and which flows joyfully under
and after him, wave after wave,
while the swan, unmoving and marvelously calm,
is pleased to be carried, each moment more fully grown,
more like a king, further and further on.

There are several subtle layers of meaning to this beautiful piece, but what moved me first and foremost was the image of a creature of beauty and grace "lumbering" on land to reach his element - water.  Though awkward and ungainly on land, he is still a swan.  He is the ugly duckling of Hans Christian Andersen's tale, growing and moving towards the graceful creature he is destined to be, and always has been.
As a spirit guide the swan represents the already mentioned attributes of grace and beauty, as well as commitment and love, because swans are monogamous animals.  Swans are sacred in many diverse cultures.  They are associated with balance, divination, intuition, and spirit.  Coming into one's own with Swan as a spirit guide is to find equanimity, beauty and grace.
Rilke's poem inspires me.  It reminds me that as I stumble and struggle on my path to finding my bliss, to going home, I will eventually find peace and gentility in the place where I truly belong. 
And need I mention that after reading "The Swan" just over a couple of weeks ago, images of swans keep turning up in my life?  They're proliferating like crazy and I'm paying attention.  And even if I were magically challenged and didn't ascribe any significance to the swan's appearance in my life, at least I'm blessed with numerous images of a beautiful bird. 

Valentine's Day is coming up so I'm seeing a lot of them on greeting cards because I work in bookish retail, but Swan is appearing in less likely places as well.  Last week one of my yoga instructors referred to an asana usually called "pigeon" as "swan."  I'd never heard that term before to describe the beautiful, hip-opening pose done lying on the mat.  Although I have nothing against pigeons, I much prefer "swan" as a name for the asana, especially in light on my current obsession. 
I've been having hip and lower back problems lately, (sometimes aging can be very inconvenient), so what would normally have been a comfortable, easy position for me was painful and difficult to do.  The irony did not escape me.  I felt like the swan of Rilke's poem lumbering to reach his true home; out of his element, but a swan nonetheless.  As usual, my concern for the state of my aging body was pleasantly mitigated by a lovely bit of synchronicity.  I managed to smile and wince at the same time as I held the pose.  
Coming to bliss is taking a long time, my whole life it seems, and though I often feel like a lame duck, I'm not singing my swan song yet.  I'm not doing that until I'm good and finally home. 
Blessed be.
- G.P.

The New Rude

I don't own a cell phone.  That's right.  You've read that correctly.  No cellphone.  I neither want nor need one.  I've never felt the urge to rush out and get one, just as I never felt driven to get my driver's license. (I don't drive, either.  But that's another story. And yes, the pun was intended.)
It's not that I flatly refuse to ever get a cell phone, but why should I if I don't have the need?  If I had a job that required it, and many jobs do these days, of course I would.  But I don't.  And I don't have children or aging parents to consider.  I've heard those reasons for carrying cell phones, and I get that.  But once again, they don't apply to me.

And yet I don't want to feel as if I'm out of date and out of touch.  Left behind.  A dinosaur.  But sometimes it's hard not to feel that way when I'm constantly reminded that I'm one of the few people I know of any age who doesn't own a cellphone.
There have been a couple of times I could have used one, like being stuck at a gas station/bus stop in the middle of nowhere wondering if and when the bus is coming.  A cellphone can be very convenient, especially when travelling.  But for the few times I would like to have had access to a cellphone, the trouble of remembering to keep one on my person at all times wouldn't be worth it.
I have cogent reasons for keeping my land line (remember those?) and staying clear of cell phones forever.  I don't want to be uber-attached to another "thing."  I've observed that many people spend a lot of time with their heads buried in their phones, completely oblivious to their surroundings.  Cell phones are supposed to keep people more connected and in touch.  Maybe cell-phoners are in touch with faceless, disembodied voices, but they also seem to be completely unaware, and often dangerously so, about what's going on all around them and in plain sight.  Just how connected is that?

And maybe it's just me, but I get very annoyed and even personally offended when someone sitting next to me at lunch in the staff room answers their phone without so much as an "excuse me," and then starts broadcasting the banal details of what they're planning to do after work more loudly than the people who are trying to have a conversation at the table.  People speaking on cell phones act as if they're the centre of the universe.  Anyone within their visible range suddenly disappears in favour of the precious device they hold in their hands.  I call it the new rude.
The new rude is bad enough, but what baffles me even more me is why all these cell-phoners don't seem to mind that other people, friends and strangers alike, can hear them talk about their personal lives.  Don't people have any sense of privacy anymore?  Whatever happened to boundaries?  It's truly ironic that by being forced to hear other people's supposedly private conversations, I feel as if my privacy's invaded.
Another reason I don't think I'll be getting a cell phone any time soon is that's it's just another thing to worry about losing, like keys or an umbrella, except that losing a cell phone seems to be much, much worse and results in far more serious consequences to one's physical and mental health.  In fact, there's even a name for it.  Fear of losing or being without the use of one's cellphone  is called nomophobia. (a conflation of no + mobile phone + phobia.)  That's at least one thing I enjoy about cellphone culture - as a result of a phobia that's prevalent among younger cell-phoners, mostly the millennial generation, a cool new word has been added to the English lexicon.  I'm all about words, and nomophobia is a fabulous new one that I love using whenever the opportunity arises, which is a lot these days. 
I like being slightly "outside," yet in tune enough to know what's going on.  It's like watching from the sidelines - getting a good view without getting involved.  Not owning a cellphone/android thingy puts me right there.  So I guess I'm complaining about something that's given me something to think and write about, and I enjoy both thinking and writing, especially at the same time. 
I'm just fine without a cellphone.  I've got my laptop and little web.  I'm wired enough for what I need and want.  I don't have it all, but I have enough.  So I'll end this blurb with a bit of ancient Chinese wisdom that I've quoted here before... Enough is as good as a feast.
Blessed be.
- G.P.