It’s Magic Monday Again

No, there are no beefcake strippers. Sorry to disappoint.

***

Last night I had a dream that Nicolas Cage came to my home, and said hello to my son. I was trying to explain to my son who Nic Cage is, and all I could think to say is that “he loves Superman, like you do! He named his son Kal-El!” And then I pointed to Nic’s rad Superman socks, which were clearly visible as he was wearing them with loafers. Most of the rest of this dream will remain between me and my dream journal but I will mention the part where he (Nic) was adamant that werewolves and vampires are real and he actually knows some of them.

(Also I think he might have been doing lines of cocaine off my duvet cover while I was talking to him?)

So this morning at breakfast, as he is wont to do, my elder son asked me about my dreams. I told him about this one, since he was in it, and we chatted about magic(k)al creatures and beings and possibilities. It is Magic Monday, after all, so what better day to hope them into being over scrambled eggs than today?

The Universe sent us the greatest tie-in today, in the form of a letter. It was addressed to Emmett and the postmark said “ALASKAN WILDERNESS”. I asked him who in the world he knows in Alaska, to which he replied as most pre-teens do to most questions: “I dunno”. Turns out the letter was from Santa himself, and the details are too precious for public consumption but suffice it to say we have proof of magic – and on Magic Monday!

All this talk about aliens showing up on 12/21 or “making themselves known” makes me think, what if it isn’t aliens? What if all the others are going to reveal themselves? The vampires and witches and such? That might be cool. I mean, I don’t really care if you’re a werewolf or whatever as long as you’re going to continue to be a good neighbor and not eat me, knowwhatimean?

****

Aside from that magic, there was other magic to be observed today. Black storm clouds rolled across the horizon this morning and I thought it might be a gloomy day. But driving back home from school drop-off, I looked at the skyline and in the distance I saw the faintest sliver of pink and orange light. So small it was almost imperceivable, but I kept my eye on it as I made my way back home. Once parked, I jumped out to photograph it and luckily I succeeded, with a gorgeous shot. It’s a panorama that shows the blackness of the sky all around where I was standing, and this one colored spot just over the hill.

A few moments later I took another photograph and realized that the light area was beginning to spread, and the darkness was moving away. It was a message, I thought. A message that even the smallest light can have an effect. A near-unseen glimmer can be enough to clear out an untold amount of darkness. I was reminded of Bob Marley, who said “light up the darkness”. He said other things that I hold close to my heart, too, but that’s the one that came to mind. Light up the darkness. You can’t know before you try just whose life may be changed or in what way, but you better believe that your light can make a difference.

By afternoon, the skies were a pristine blue, and there were no clouds in sight.

I posted about it on social media and in the evening I had a thought, as I sometimes do. I wondered if people see these things I say, or write, or post, and think, “Who does she think she is?” Years ago I’d have been offended in imagination, mentally rehearsed and recited a defense, and even felt the emotions that would accompany it.

Today I giggled, because I am not coming from an ego place at all. If that’s the question you’re asking then you are missing the point entirely. It’s not about who I think I am. It’s about who I think you are. Who you could be. Who we are, collectively. I can see the power in you, you know? The magic. I can see the light.

***

I wore my goddess amulet today, some tight jeans and a tiger-print sweater with zebra-print rain boots. (Did I mention the ominous clouds? I legitimately thought we were in for some flash floods.) I straightened my hair and moisturized my face, but didn’t wear makeup because I hate the way it feels on my skin. I felt so good, so confident. Beautiful. Radiant.

This Magic Monday, I am grateful. Grateful for conversations about mythical beings with my small humans, grateful that nature speaks directly to me in the most subtle and profound ways, grateful that I am not the person I once was – in heart or in spirit. Even grateful that at my age and ending this difficult year, I am still capable of feeling beautiful just as I am.

That is also magic.

Free-Writing Channeled NTS*

Standing over the stove this morning making oatmeal, I got a message. The message is for me, but I have a feeling it’s not *only* for me. I quickly picked up my phone (because I don’t keep a pen and paper handy by the cooking appliances) and text myself. It was definitely free-writing, or maybe automatic writing, as it took me no effort. Maybe it was from my higher self.

Last night, I started researching the Father Wound. I have read much about the Mother Wound and how to heal it, and it just occurred to me yesterday that there must also be a Father Wound, and I probably need to start to heal mine. So yesterday was… rough. And this morning, this is what I get:

“You’re not a professional quitter. Don’t you see? You, my courageous girl, are an adventurer. You are actually what I like to call “a YES-er”. You say yes to challenges, yes to the unknown. Sometimes the thing you say “yes” to doesn’t feel right, doesn’t make your soul sing, so instead of wasting time on it you leave it behind. That is also courage – to keep your life in motion, to never get stagnant. Don’t you have any idea how deeply inspiring you are? I’d give my three left toes to have even one more of you. The world needs girls like you. Especially here, especially now.”

A couple of observations:

• “Girl” is used more than once. So this is speaking to a younger me, mabye my inner child. This would make sense because it’s the inner child that gets injured and carries negative beliefs into adulthood, uses the ego to protect, etc.
• The “three left toes” part did not come through clearly so I just text my best guess.
• In my first book, I actually joke/poke fun at myself for being a professional quitter. It wasn’t self-deprecating in my mind, it was self-awareness. But there was always something about it that made me feel ashamed and this addresses that directly.
• Possibly these are things I want/hope/wish my dad thought about me or would say to me, and when you do shadow work you learn that you don’t need any healing words or actions to come from any other person outside of yourself. You can heal yourself with your own words, your own validation. Perhaps this is that.
• This absolutely, one hundred percent, was divinely guided and instructed message. The idea that moving forward from things can be courageous – in the same way that society always portrays clinging to them to be courageous or strong – was an absolute revelation to me.
• I believe this message is meant to be seen/read by someone else, so if that person is you, I hope you will take it deep within your heart and spirit and let it soothe you and let it heal some wounds that have been rooted in you, perhaps part of your identity, for far too long. We as humans are moving into something new, and it’s time to detach from the old and anything we can’t take with us. It is time to stand in truth.

*NTS is “note to self”

The other message I got this morning was “Let’s Dance” by David Bowie playing in my head over and over upon waking.

What Was She Thinking

That’s the title… fore-title? pre-title?… of one of my last books of the year. Notes on a Scandal. The other is Good Omens. I may read both, I may choose between them. Fingers crossed that they’re good.

12/12 and 12/21

Pastry chef, but only in secret.

There’s a lyric that’s in my head a lot lately. “Keep me where the light is” John Mayer. A new song today rocked my socks, too. It’s Charlotte OC, “Where it Stays”. Expecting it to be my top play of 2021.

Wondering if David Bowie was an Andromedan. Also wondering if he knew it. I feel like he knew it.

I actually Googled “how to style a gray coat” because I have this delicious overcoat that is two hundred percent Parisian and I want to look chic when I wear it this winter. The pictures that came up were of GQs best coats of all time or something, and one of them was peak mullet Andre Agassi – in Paris – and it was everything. I can’t post it here for security reasons but it’s worth a bit of sleuthing.

The photo also included David Bowie looking like a hot alien in an amazing suit and red scarf.

In meditation yesterday I saw a huge door. Like a barn door? Both sides slid open and there was bright light inside. I asked where the door leads, or what’s behind that door? The answer? “Everything”.

Hold the Vision. Hold the Light. Love, love, love.

I am seeing the number 22 so much in random places. The inspector sticker on my Christmas tree plug. The address on a tv show. I don’t know what the message is, exactly but I think it’s to keep going.

Sometimes the grief gives way to gratitude. Joyful gratitude. I found a photo today – well, another photo – where we look like mother and daughter. I am so proud to be yours. I love you.

dreaming of waking

I know for a lot of readers, authors, lovers of the written word, it’s a trick that’s been overdone and overused. Read a fascinating story to the end only to find out that the entire adventure/romance/suspense has happened entirely in dream state. The ending being when the narrator wakes up.

I happen to like this trick. I would LOVE to read a real book – gritty, human, gut-wrenching, soulful, lustful – and have the final chapters reveal that everything – EVERYTHING – I just read has happened in the narrator’s imagination. She’s standing in front of her bathroom mirror, her mind suspended in that first-light early morning foggy, fuzzy, haze. She lived an entire alternate lifetime while washing her face. I’d relate to that. That’s exactly how my brain works.

I’m looking for a final book for my year. It will put me 7 over goal. One intriguing candidate is called You Were There, Too. It has to do with life and love and destiny and dreams. A woman is married, floating along in not-quite-contentment when she runs into a man she sees in her dreams. Does it MEAN something? Are they fated? But the reviews all say the ending rips your heart out and I don’t want that. I want someone to write a brilliant ending, not a sad one.

Thinking about all this while lathering my hair this morning, I remembered the face of a man who sat diagonally from me in a small diner in Paris, just outside the Pere Lachaise Cemetery. I did not speak to him, do not know him. I was there with my husband and he was there with another man, likely a business colleague. But I am endlessly curious about other beings and so I spent much of my time observing him, committing him to memory. He was a tiny bit overweight, black hair, kind eyes. His coat was gray and his manners impeccable. I liked his round face, his cheeks. He looked a little like my brother if my brother but happy. I probably smiled at him, just to be polite, you know. He and I lived our life together there, in my mind, as we ate lunch across from each other. When it was over he slipped away to the right of the diner and my husband and I walked left. Maybe it wasn’t him at all. Maybe I was intoxicated by his city, his culture, what I imagined him to be. But I will remember him for the rest of my days, and I do wonder why I was drawn to his energy.

I do this sometimes. A stranger passes me on the street and we’ve been married and had children by the next block. He’s forgotten by the block after that, as my mind wanders to other ideas, possibilities, inventions.

I wonder if anyone else thinks this way? Perhaps I should write a book.