I’ve fallen behind in my postings here, but not for lack of things to write about.

One exciting development is my new astrology class at the Winds of Change here in Courtenay, something I’ve been wanting to do again for a very long time; ever since I taught classes at Life Rhythms Centre in Edmonton back in the nineties. Teaching astrology is way too much fun! It’s a niche waiting to be filled here, too, so I seem to be the girl for the job.

The first class was last Sunday, and tomorrow will be the second one (7pm, drop-ins welcome!). I had a nice full handful of enthusiastic students, a very good start.

I go around and around about the best way to present astrology so that it is easily grasped, but it’s not easy to do since it encompasses so many dimensions of experience.
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Full Moon in Pisces; Fool Moon. In Pisces, sense goes awandering and returns with an imaginary friend, ‘can I keep it?’ continuing over leftways into an upside down whirl of an idea that swept in like wind from the trailing edges of a tale that unfolds kalaidoways, extrapolating madly from scraps of crazy poetry.

Oh, yeah, you can have fun with Pisces. But only if you enter it, and leave it again, because in that sea of dreams, nothing ever changes, it merely swirls and sways, flows and floats away in the wind, sameness enduring, fractal patterns of endless replication, evolution only a fantasy.

Keep your feet on the Virgo ground now, chillins, cause here is where the crazy poet crosses your path with pixie dust from fake fairies that takes you only into oblivion unless you are giving something back. Virgo is about giving back. Taking in the trash, turning it into fertile soil, planting, reaping, processing the harvest.

It’s a lovely time for the harvest, this moon; everything dissolves, expands, glamourises in its milky light, from garden or berry bush or tree to the dryer, the freezer, the jar in the pantry.
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I don’t know if you have them, but every year or so, I have a Big Dream that rocks me, teaches me and wakes me up to new levels of experience. This one in particular left me with waves of understanding at a cellular level that are still lapping at my brain.

My dreams have been growing more multidimensional, therefore very difficult to remember let alone describe. I thought I’d try to share this one, because it’s, well, one of those important-feeling ones, but describing it might be a bit tricky.

In my dream, there are two worlds that aren’t the same, but they are so closely connected that they appear tightly woven together. Each is invisible to the other, but they profoundly affect each other. To cross from one world into the other is nearly impossible, but it can be done with deep intention and preparation.

The action in the dream begins when inhabitants of the–I’ll call it the ‘right-hand world’; it’s a place of power and love, where there is no death or strife–learn that whenever somebody is tortured, raped, murdered, or subjected to any kind of painful or debilitating trauma (including dis-ease of all sorts), there is a ripple effect into their own world.

The right-hand world is much less populous. Each person there is directly linked to quite a lot of people, hundreds and even thousands (maybe more; numbers were not clear), in the other world (our own Earth) and suffers milder but mirroring symptoms as a direct consequence of the ones they are linked to going through extreme pain or trauma. (more…)

Last year I performed at the Habitat Cabaret in Maple Bay with a wild troupe of talented folks, and what a great time we had, face paint and costumes and amazing entertainment.

This Saturday, there will be another Cabaret, relocated to the Duncan Garage (a bit smaller, but also cozier), and I get to sing in that one too. I hope you get to come. It’ll be fun!

Saturday evening, Duncan Garage, doors at 7:30… I’ll be there. I haven’t performed publicly since June 27 at the Gong Show, so I’m really looking forward to this.

I’ve been a member of the Progressive Bloggers community over on Word of Mouth Blog (WoMb) for years, but since WoMb has gone defunct (or dormant), I’ve transferred my writerly focus over to this personal site.

Then yesterday, Scott Tribe asked if I wanted to add this site to the ProgBlog community, and I hesitated at first, because this tends to be a rather relentlessly personal and navel-gazing blog (well, mostly; I do write stuff like this, too). I do, however, think of myself as a progressive sort, doing my part by living my life according to my principles and writing about it here.

I’m a photographer / artist / singer-songwriter / card reader / astrologer / writer and this blog is the container into (out of?) which I spill everything; I can’t really categorize myself well. On the Political Compass, I am firmly lodged way down in the lower left hand quadrant (below where Gandhi is). I’m a leftie-libertarian, which I count as ‘progressive’ though of course, if you don’t fit in that quadrant, you’re likely to disagree.

What is progressiveness? I suspect that ultimately we’re all coming toward the same central truth from our own positions in the spectral sphere, and that therefore progress is going to look different according to our individual starting places.
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I just realized that this is the website I have on my business card. So prospective clients come here. They must be a bit confused, and I couldn’t blame them for wondering what in Gaia’s name this blah blah blog has to do with my business.

I’m working on that, folks, my apologies for any befuzzlement. Like a Phoenix from the ashes, this website will be reborn, surprisingly, when the time is right (ie, when I have the time and some freedom from the beautiful heat).

What I do is unique, and it’s about who I am as much as it is what I do. I am a passionate devotee of Gaia, Earth Mama, this blessed bountiful bowl of pleasure which gives us source and sustenance, herself product of the marriage of Spirit and Mat(t)er. It’s why I call this page ‘Spreading the Gaia Word.’ I speak the Word for Gaia, as best as I am able.

And this page is about more than that too. I will have more to say about it as soon as I can get a break from the daily business of my life to sit down and decide what it is.

What is it that I do? I read cards. I painted them. They’re cool. I pair them up with a very special deck of other cards. They go really wonderfully together.
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and falling so far behind on these postings, it’s crazy. I’d blame the weather, but that would be silly, because I already blame the weather when it’s cold and grey out.

This is perfect weather! I love it! I would never complain! But I don’t love sitting at the computer during it.

Okay, I’ll blame the weather. It’s too beautiful to blog.

I had a nice experience recently I wanted to mention, though this may be short (insert note: short? Me? What was I thinking!). But slog on I will in my blogular way, because I became recently re-inspired to do this writing thing. Nothing inspires like finding out you have an audience.

Do tell, you say?

Here’s what happened, since you so kindly express your interest, thank you.

I love Hornby art openings, and this one is my favourite of the year. It’s the ultimate Hornby experience, the one at Elaine Savoie’s place, which is indescribable. Therefore I needn’t try to describe it.

I’m too hot and tired (did I mention that?) to bother, to tell the truth. I’ll let you all know when I get the photos of the show up on my flickr page.
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I never cease to be fascinated with my own crazy brain (and I mean that in only the best way). I frequently stumble upon gems cast about my recent past which seemed no more significant than pebbles at the time. When I find them, I am dazzled for a while. Ooh! Me a poet!

Like this piece, found in a paper journal (I know, so last century, but I’m a product of my time). I wrote it early last summer. I thought might be a song, which would be exciting (and still might be), but I won the Story Slam last night at the Zocalo and now I’m all into the spoken word thing. So I tried reading it out loud, and liked it that way. Maybe I’ll enter it in the next story slam.

This was written in the breathy new beginnings of opening up to the love I’d believed to be over (the ending of which, faithful readers of this blog will recall, was recounted on these page in grim poetic detail). Time passes, and things have progressed pleasingly on that front. More than pleasingly. And yeah, we do still choose to live apart. We go home to different islands at the close of our visits. It’s good.

This is from safely enough in the past that I can dust it off now and claim it in the name of poetry. O mystery me! I’m a regular one-woman archeological dig.

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with so very many things to become enraged, terrified and generally upset about. I tend to focus on my own life and feelings in my writing, with exceptions of course.

Like when I wrote the post, ‘my little plan to save the world‘, sometimes I do feel inspired to add my writings to the massive, seething cauldron of words already written attempting to address the Big Picture and to fix the glaring and species-threatening issues we face.

With a Virgo Ascendant, part of my personality programming is the assumption that I’m merely one little teeny cog in an infinitely large machine, and what can little me do to affect anything? This shrinking self-image is squared by a Saturn-Mars opposition which is determined to try, hopeless though it might be; I’m a bit of a don Quixote archetype. Yet I often run out of momentum before I even start, because the underlying feeling of hopelessness behind the determination (twelfth-house Pluto) is all-pervasive.
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Blogging is a dangerous business. You never know when some injudicious slip of the keyboard, a post, a paragraph or perhaps even a phrase that seems a good idea to you might rub raw the sensitivities or hurt the heart of another. And then what can be said? This is my attempt to say it.

I am a public person; I can see it in my natal chart. The infamous Gemini Midheaven Mars can be an annoying loudmouth who spills secrets to the world in exchange for some sense of hope for profit or recognition. The Midheaven represents the part of the blueprint where we are required to give back to society. Get a job, offer a service, have a career, whatever it is, the Midheaven, its aspects, rulerships and inhabitants very accurately describes what we do for our living.

Mars in Gemini is right at home on the internet. I can blog my brains out, spill my wormy can all over the place, tell it like it’s just a story for the entertainment of the masses. And it is a story. Just a story. But whose story is it? Who owns the story of my life? Discriminating between what’s mine and what rightfully belongs to another is the most difficult task I have ever set my heart to.

It’s my job–my responsibility to society, strange as that may seem–to babble whatever trivialities and observations might occur to me. That’s what Gemini is about, babbling trivialities, following curiosity’s fickle nose through the random dandelion fields of life’s interactions. There’s more to the story than that, of course, but you can see it’s a tricky sort of career path I’m on.
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