Welcome to a World of Spiritual Harmony

I did a Tarot reading for a woman at a festival this summer that has stuck in my mind. The reading was clearly directing her to take action, and gave several good ideas on what she needed to do.

Her response in all cases was a blank stare. She had a dead end job that she didn’t like, but had no idea what other job might be more appealing. She had chosen not to go to school, though the means were there. She didn’t know what she’d study. She brightened up just a bit when talking about her happily married children. She didn’t know what she might volunteer for. She couldn’t say one thing that she actually liked.

This woman seemed damaged, not physically, not mentally, but soul damage. No emotions evident.

And yet - she lives here but had deliberately worn the opposing team’s sweatshirt to a major Cincinnati festival - a team that our town really opposes. That felt visceral to me, an inverted volcano of deep anger.

She is angry with us for not giving her what she cannot say she wants. She continues to leave me with much to ponder.

Many of you know that I’ve been a member of a Jungian dream group for over 15 years. We gather twice month to tell each other our latest dreams, and respond from our hearts, our minds, our bellies and our Jungian ears.

Those ears are informed by Jung’s understanding of dreams, of the collective unconscious, his belief in the power of myth, his exposition of archetypes and their action in our unconscious. The big stories, in other words - for instance, our own personal big story of Mother in our lives, and the story we share around the planet of Mother.

The first biography I read of Jung was his autobiographical Memories, Dreams, Reflections. The second, about 5 years ago, was a wonderful and learned bio which I loaned out and no longer remember the author’s name. I’m sure I could google or wiki and know it in less than a minute.

And then, a couple of weeks ago, a friend and I attended one of the wonderful Greater Cincinnati Friends of Jung Friday night seminars, where the doorprize was a new Jung biography. She turned to me and said ‘I’m reading this one, so if I win it, I’ll give it to you.’

Therefore, it was no surprise to me that she won and I am now faced with a third bio - which promises, in scholarly tones, all the dish on the Father of Dreams.

My plate is heaped high with great stuff to read - will this be an entree or dessert? Way too big and heavy to be the salad. Stay tuned - I’ll review it as I go.

There’s a play in the blackbox theater at the Aronoff (the 5/3 Bank Theater) running through October 7, that is fascinating as an epic, a reflection, in its technical presentation and its excellent casting.

I love the ancient stories, and here’s Gilgamesh and his friend EnkiDu, a tale of their battle, the good life, Gilgamesh’s boredom, the slaying of nature (that’s how you can tell it’s one of the first patriarchal stories), the death of EnkiDu, the exile of Gilgamesh. And here’s Josh and Ken, army warriors in Iraq right now. There are dreams and nightmares, goddesses and gods, woven into a striking pattern.

I was too stunned to give the actors the standing ovation they, and their excellent director, Regina Pugh, deserved. The Performance Gallery, www.performancegallery.org, is innovative, creative, edgy.

I always trust their work - you’ll never find same old, same old when PG is in the house.

There are days when I’m more sensitive to our general wastefulness than usual. Sunday while making a purchase at Macy’s, I couldn’t even take home all the little plastic hangars the helpful clerk had put into the bag with my newly-purchased items on them. I stood there and took the hangars off one-by-one and returned them to her.

I also stored up all the empty plastic bottles my friend and I had generated during the day and took them home to recycle.

And don’t even mention eating out. How can we sit in front of such huge plates of food and allow so much of it to go back to the kitchen and then the dumpster? I will gather up the unused bread on the table for the birds in the backyard to enjoy. And I find that the average lunch includes enough for at least one more meal at home, while dinner produces often enough for two.

Where is the peacefulness in this over-abundance? Too much just doesn’t work for me most days - and on Sunday, it worked even less than usual.

Beggars, sitting silently with their handlettered signs, are most prevalent downtown. They can be seen occasionally on Ludlow in Clifton and once in a while in Over-the-Rhine, perhaps in other communities as well.

I don’t have a rule about giving or not giving. I’m just where I am at that moment. As I consider the question, I realize I probably give a dollar or two most of the time. Sometimes it doesn’t feel right to give at all. And a couple of times, I’ve given literally my last dollar - or last $20.

I have a subscription to the homeless newspaper, Streetvibes. Yet I always buy from the street vendors, and pass the paper on to someone who’s never experienced the poetry and pictures in each issue.

On Sunday, during Oktoberfest, as I was realizing that the apple strudel I was munching was just too sweet, I noticed a man in front of me so hungry, in so many kinds of need. I gave him the strudel.

There are so many levels of need, so many beliefs in lack, so much stuckness and pain. I free my dollar bills to do what can be done for those naked souls in front of me.

And at the same moment, I honor our absolute equality and one-ness. The passage of the dollars from one hand to the other is simply a movement in this vast dance.

A friend of mine, another Patricia, passed along a book she had just read, with her strong recommendation. I don’t read much fiction right at the moment, but trusted Pat’s wisdom and dug in to Tryin’ to Sleep in the Bed You Made by DeBerry Grant.

It’s a story of two African American girls, Pat and Gayle, growing up, growing wide apart, growing back together. Plus the interweaving of Marcus, another friend of their childhood. The descriptions of the three teen-age and then adult lives give us very different pictures of life choices. The parents and partners round out those pictures, with tragedy in greater measure than joy.

My favorite character is, of course, the feisty and tough Pat. Who does, in the end, and after powerful achievements, learn love. Gayle learns new definitions of love, especially for her daughter and mother, and Marcus is both the most balanced and unbalanced of three at various spots in the tale.

The authors are 2 such friends, using one pen name for their work. Let’s hope they’re already at work on their next book.

A couple of weeks ago, I attended a gathering of the Walnut Street Poetry Society, where the topic was the poetry of William Butler Yeats, led by my good friend Kathleen.

The discussion came round to the Easter Rising, where the Irish heroes lost the battle and were executed, but actually won the war 5 years later, though dead. I had to admit that I could pass the test on Irish history up until the defeat of 1798, but had never been able to go further.

So wouldn’t you know - I’ve been face to face with the Easter Rebellion almost continuously since. Emails from friends, forwarded articles - and at the Celtic Festival a couple of weeks ago, our space was next to the space of Cathal Liam, Galway born, who has written 2 books on Irish history - which I’ve almost bought several times at Joseph-Beth. One of them is about the 1916 Rebellion (Consumed in Freedom’s Flame), the other about the Irish civil war that followed freedom in 1921 (Blood on the Shamrock).

Now I have them inscribed by the author. I’m backing into the history by reading his third book first - Forever Green, Ireland Now and Again. It’s a collection of essays and articles, with some history.

Yates immortalized the heroes in one of his best known poems. With their sacrifice ‘a terrible beauty was born’ that led finally to a free Ireland after 700 years. I know I’ll learn more about that beauty than I have been able to face before. Ready or not, here I come.

How quickly this summer went by! Though it didn’t necessarily feel that way in 100+ day after day, did it?

This weekend’s Oktoberfest marked the last major outdoor festival for 2007 - and the last one where friends and I were doing readings together. We had a great time, though it did get a bit hot. I can remember September festivals where downright cold was the order of the day. Last week’s Celtic Festival down on the river made me glad I had on heavy renaissance garb, for instance.

So the beautiful outdoor readings under the trees are done. Except perhaps on my patio - maybe we’ll be able to extend that season a bit longer!

What a perfect two days! We had a great location, under a sycamore and looking out at the river, the weather was absolute perfection, and all the wonderful folk who sat down for readings were a pleasure to work with.

The music made the event - there were at least 5 stages, each with their own type of music, including Irish rock, lots of Celtic dances, the Caledonian Pipe Band - the energy was phenomenal. I didn’t get to do much shopping, but there was great stuff to buy.

One story - as I was packing for the festival, I came across a big green tablecloth I bought several years ago in Rabbit Hash, and never used. I had a thought to bring it with me - and not wanting to argue with myself, I did just that.

I was almost finished setting up, had my reading table and display table ready, no use for the tablecloth. Then one of the Riley School of Irish Dance folk came by and very doubtfully asked if I had an extra tablecloth. Which of course, I did.

So I got to tell that story several times over the weekend, when talking to folk about how intuition works. And I got to be glad that I’ve pretty much gotten over arguing with my own intuition. Finally!

I’ve always liked to get ready for parties, and then the cleaning up afterwards. I love the parties, too, but the organizing and then putting-everything-back-in-place time is special as well.

So I’m just getting ready to head out to the Celtic Festival at Yeatman’s Cove today and tomorrow. Clothes are easy to pick out - we dress in Celtic medieval garb - which I’ve modified just a bit so I don’t feel quite so squished.

Then I get out the checklist I created a couple of years ago so that nothing gets forgotten. Business cards, table signs, easel signs, sign in sheets, clothes for the chairs, tables, extras just in case. All the decks I’m taking today are Celtic - the Merlin, Faery Wicca and Celtic dragons - I actually have more, but three is enough, so they tell me.

My office turns into a staging area, and as each bag is packed, it goes out to the front door, from whence down the steps and then into the car. Today means wedging the tent into the back seat, taking tables, chairs, tent lights - and the tent sides, since we’ll close everything up tonite and come back in the morning to start all over.

I always get a little wound up before a festival - a version of stage fright / butterflies, sort of. Just gets my energy ready. It is going to be a beautiful and cool day on the river - perfect. I can’t wait to meet all the people I’m going to do readings for - what a wonderful day I’m going to have!