Following the Stars

I was raised by a mother who was very open and explorative of all the world's mysteries, which has made me a pretty open minded person as well. Mostly?  I know enough to know that I don't know that much. I have my thoughts, my theories, the ways that work for me, and the beliefs that, when I am able to key into them, help my life flow and allow me to be more productive and feel closer to my authentic and best self. But, I do not judge those who have other beliefs and ways of exploring "the mystery", nor do I attach to much importance to the little t "truth" of these things. Long story short? If they work for me, and the message of these things resonates on a deep level, feeling T "true"?  I go with it. 

The basic premise of the article, entitled Tarotscopes That Slay by Brandon Alter, is that he drew a  Tarot card for each sun sign, and then applied the meaning of that particular card in context with what will be happening astrologically for that particular sign. Now, even  though the tone of the article is geared toward the lgbt community, I'm going to hazard a guess that, anyone, gay or straight can find meaning and guidance in these cards. 

In light of the intense questioning I've been going through the past couple of months, the many nights of tossing and turning, and the doubts that any of this work I'm struggling to produce will be worth it, the card for Aquarius for September 9th - October 8th, The Hangman (reversed), seemed very apropos and brought some gentle comfort.  The gist of it? Surrender. Surrender deeply. 

The following is excerpted from Alter's article...

"The Hanged Man doesn’t struggle, he accepts and allows. And that’s the mantra for this next cycle, to accept and allow everything that presents itself to you. Most importantly yourself. The Hanged Man relinquishes control to the tides, to the rhythms of nature and especially to his own unique design.

You are who you are and that is glorious. Stop fighting yourself. Stop judging yourself. Every piece of you, from your kinks to your curiosities is of cosmic design. Instead of trying to fit yourself into a box that’s too small or pretending to be normal like everyone else, this moonth should find you being your most extra."

See what I mean? It feels spot on. And... so did the message for Pisces, which, before you say anything, is not my rising sign. Although, I was born on February 14th, which some consider the cusp of Aquarius and Pisces, so... basically, you can think to yourself that Astrology and Tarot are just another one of those "applies to everybody and works on your psychology and your willingness to believe" and is thereby bogus, or you can think "this has been around for centuries, and there is something to this". 

Or you can think that this is an imperfect system that may have value for you, regardless of any quirks and imperfections. Essentially, claim it if it suits you.

And, if you'd like to pursue more in this vein, Brandon is based in San Diego where he gives classes on understanding the Tarot, and does individual readings. He and his husband also host a podcast., The Spiritual Gayz, so venture out and explore all you lil' seekers and dreamers!

I'm Gonna Buy A Paper Dolly

Willa Paskin's Decoder Ring is a podcast that examines the workings of different pop culture artifacts. How they came to be, how they might be different than how we have come to understand them, and how they continue to work in the world. It's not one that I listen to regularly, but if the topic is one to which I feel drawn, I've found it pretty inspiring. The latest episode on paper dolls is one of those. It features a paper doll artist by the name of David Wolfe, who's work I've long admired, those featuring movie stars like Judy Garland and Rosemary Clooney. His work is whimsical, and incredibly evocative, but unlike some other contemporary paper dolls I have seen, these don't simply reproduce the details of past costumes, but they evoke a feeling of nostalgia and glamour from a contemporary perspective. There's a lot of yearning in the David Wolfe's illustrations.

The paper doll art of David Wolfe, available at paper dollywood.com

Myself? From the ages of five to seven, I had an accordion file, maybe three inches thick max, in which I kept my paper dolls. I'm not sure how I was first introduced to paper dolls, but I can only imagine that one day when my mom and I were at the drug store looking at coloring books, I'd seen the Walt Disney "Snow White" paper dolls and pleaded for them until she relented. My aunt, who often watched e during the day while my mom was at work, would help me with cutting them out, and showed me how to put them on the stand. The funny thing is, I don't really remember playing with them much, as I remember cutting out each outfit as delicately as I could, because any bit of white at the edges spoiled the illusion of the clothes. I also remember poring over the pictures, and imagining what they would look like on Snow White. The actual product of them on the stand was never as satisfying as the pictures of what the result might be. Those imaginings were perfect in a way that the reality of snipped up and folded paper could never be. My next paper dolls were Wizard Of Oz paper dolls. I was only interested in paper dolls based on characters that I already knew, and in the ways that those different outfits would change the way I thought of them, open them up to different possibilities and futures in which they might need a Halloween costume, or a fancy gown.

Now that I've gotten older, paper dolls inhabit a strange in-between place for me. They are not quite dolls in the way that we think of them. They're a craft project, easily dispensable, and they cost little more than a coloring book.  All of these qualities are what made it acceptable for my mother to buy them for me. And, the art of some paper dolls, especially those of David Wolfe,  you'll have to forgive the pun, "stands up on its own" and is worthy of framing, but the dolls, by their very nature, were meant to be cut up and played with, even though the execution of that "play" takes something away from them, because the reality of them in action is never quite as beautiful as the promise of their pristine state. And that, for me, is one of the very things that makes them fascinating. They exist as a great big beautiful tease, like a "mint in box" collectible toy just beckoning you to take it out of its box and play with it.

If you're curious to find out more about paper dolls and their beginnings, including the art form's hidden queer history, the Slate podcast episode can be listened to here or anywhere you get your podcasts. To admire and purchase the work of David Wolfe, visit https://paperdollywood.com.

Struggling.

I've been going through it this past few months. By "it", I mean doubt, fear, depression, the value of trying, and questioning my own self worth. All of these feelings combine, multiply, expound, and collude until they make up one big ball of resistance that seems to have packed itself all around me. It's had me questioning my life here in New York, my viability as a partner in a relationship, and my ability to function in the world.

Why? It's a mixture of factors. I'm currently without full-time permanent work. I'm not in a relationship, nor are there any fun flirtations on the horizon. My friend network is still relatively small for someone who has lived here three years. And I have an impending performance, and I'm fearing that no one will show, and if not, what does that mean for the quality of the show, a show that I have spent the last year pouring myself into? These things were tapping away at me, persistently and almost imperceptibly, until a month ago, when my family suffered a deep loss, with the death of someone who was far too young, and who's life seemed like it was just beginning.

It's difficult to comprehend the full impact of events like this, or just how they work on us and our lives. The important thing, I'm realizing now, is not to judge them. For me? This event sent me into a withdrawal period. It had me spending hours in my bedroom, mired in escapism in the form of video games, netflix, dating apps... none of these things were working toward a future, they were just there for the purpose of making the present seem more livable, through the avoidance of all the fears and doubts in the way that seemed the easiest to reach. When I deleted some of these things to make room in my life for things of value? Other things crept in, or I wavered and downloaded them again. The hole that they left was too vast, and the prospect of filling that hole by making art or submitting for day jobs, or going out into the world brought with it individual armies of uncertainty. The prospect of a lot more suffering when those things would surely turn out to be self created delusions. Of course there were days when I thought I had beaten it. I went to a writer's support group, and thought I was well on my way. Ditto for any job submission or excursion to see theatre. But inevitably I found myself back where I'd started. And yet, each of those things began to add up. Individually they were not enough, but the more I was able to do, the better I felt, and the more opportunities for doing seemed available and just as important, doable.

Something that helped me? One of many things, was a book called The War Of Art. It made resistance a force of sabotage. The inevitable force pushing against all of us anytime we have hopes for our future. And unlike most books, describing the situation I was in ad-nauseum without any practical solutions until the last chapters, this book, which I've had on my shelf for years, put hope in the first few pages. And slowly, I've been putting its principles into action. The principles? There's really only one. Do it anyway. Do it, whatever it is, as if your happiness depended on it. Resistance is there to stop you. Don't let it. It isn't "right" about you. It's an illusion. A very powerful one. And the fight against it is never ending. But you have to fight, and fight hard, with every ounce of effort.

And sometimes its stronger. I'm not out of this hole quite yet. Or at least, I don't think I am. But, I am better now than I was. And not having a permanent office job? It's a plus! As long as I can continue to get money in through whatever means possible, the freedom it allows me gives me the opportunity to audition. It allows me more time to write. To plan more cabaret performances, to increase the visibility for my work. But if I'm wasting all that time on immediate gratification? It feels like a waste. And of course, looking back on the past months, I realize they haven't been a waste, as that time allowed me to process, but I'm much happier "here" than I was "there".

Resistance even played a part in the posting of this topic, because this kind of honesty is often discouraged, especially in a world when every message feels geared, to toward honest communication, but toward marketing. Marketing of our "best selves". This kind of posting? It's false, it's the worst aspect of the internet, and it doesn't break down walls. It builds them. Better to communicate with the intent of being honest. And this sometimes means stating things which make us feel vulnerable. Of course, if you are deciding to put that out into the world, the importance of just how you do it can seem inflated, so that's another way resistance wheedled it's way in. You have to find the right amount of time to ruminate about it, edit it, you have to have to be in the perfect part of resistance to be able to write about it, because if you are completely out of it, you feel like you are preaching, and if you are too steeped in it, you worry you are whining. The point is? It's everywhere. And as exhausting as it seems to be consciously fighting it daily, it will do its work whether you fight it or not. And to not "try" is to not play.