After the Storm

I encourage you to push play on the song below. It's one of the prettiest beauties in my mind lately. It's by Mumford & Sons, and it's called After The Storm.



"There will come a time ,you'll see, with no more tears
and love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair."

For a day like today, it goes perfectly. For a strange sad month like this past March, it also goes perfectly. The sun has never felt so welcome in this Northern California world, all of my friends and family also praising it's glory.



Two days ago my beloved Abigail the kitty died. It was very sudden, which makes it difficult. She was my first cat. I got her at a feed store when I moved into my first apartment at age 19. It was a little studio apartment, it looked like it was in a warehouse, with a strange old wooden long porch outside next to a non-functioning ice machine. Next door there was a bar called "The Copper Rail". I lived there all alone and the place wasn't very close to town, so I wanted some kitten company. Abby used to jump all over me when I went to bed, playing with my feet as kittens do. I called her a "piece of popcorn" cause she would jump so high sporadically as I was trying to get to bed. So spunky and sweet was she. She was my first roommate.

A couple of pictures from that era...that long lost life before.



Abby used to get bone thin and long and lean every single summer, and in the winters she would get roly poly like a butter ball. This kind of seasonal transformation went on for years. But as she found herself more than a decade old, I think she settled somewhere in between, preferring our laps to her long days outside chasing the lizards and bluebirds. And once she began to truly prefer laps, it was there that she sought day in and day out. A lap was all she wanted, besides a wee bit of food and fresh water. I will miss her something awful.

Sometime circa 2001-02, Abby went missing for about three or four months. I didn't live at home with my parents where she lived at the time as I was really a rambler back in the day and didn't end up keeping Abby with me for more than a few months, so she became our "family cat". One afternoon I made a routine stop-off at my parents and was in the middle of a breakup with my boyfriend of over a couple years. I was on the phone with him in the backyard, having some kind of an argument and crying. I am sure I was pretty damn loud. But my emotional spat and sorrow quickly came to a halt when Abby, who no one had seen for months, came literally bounding right into my arms. I told Mike I would talk to him later and hung up immediately. I'll never forget how much that moment helped me at that time. I was so overjoyed that Abby had come back and forgot all about my silly heart woes for days. She was my sister. A sister soul. She must have known then, somewhere in her little cat heart, that her return would help me. She was always very devoted to me, I noticed, above all others. I felt like she would drop what she was doing the moment I came to my parents house or to Heather's house where she later lived, and she would come to me. I totally didn't deserve it because I was only a windswept, scatterbrain of a child when I got her, and wasn't a very good mama. Heather was always more of a mama to her than I was. But maybe Abby loved her life so. I like to think it is. And maybe she was always just showing her appreciation for being selected from the box at the feed store that day. I like to think of animals as completely aware and intelligent, and so I will just think it so.

My heart won't ever forget her. And I hope she is feeling the rays of sun that came out this lovely day.
As I wrote on Heather's sweet blog about her-
Oh universe, I suppose I couldn't bear to live if I did indeed believe it all just stopped, just went away for good, never to return or to come back to our hearts. It keeps me sane, in all this sweetness and sad wonderful beauty, to believe that somehow this whole damn thing goes on forever, and nothing, nothing at all, is ever lost in the mess.

Lately, despite all of the sadness and melancholy that has been about, my heart has still been soaring here and there. I don't know why exactly, but it does make the sorrow easy. I think perhaps I know more than ever what a damn miracle we are in the very midst of, every single moment. I don't know why it would be now that such knowledge would permeate my soul more than ever, or perhaps it is from the sadness itself that I am able to know so thoroughly my own privilege and gratefulness, but whatever the new tiny joy is that is peeking it's eyes out from under the snow and tears, I am excited for every day to begin, and to know all of you more and more and more.

My morning tarot

If I had to label myself anything, I s'pose I'd call myself a mystic and a member of the non-existent Church of Tom Waits & The Cure-Listening, Animal & Jesus-Loving, Tim & Eric-Watching Nicies.... That being said....I do indeed read the Tarot. I learned back in 2002-03 when I ventured forth to the city of Portland and lived there alone in a new world that was brimming with dive bars, possibility and excitement. After a couple months of solitude some friends moved there and we got a house together, but I spent VERY much time alone adventuring through and exploring the awesome innards of that glittering emerald mekka. I found a great job waitressing in old town and often I would go out on the east side alone on my way home. I didn't stay living in Portland more than 9 months, because my California tan wanted so badly to wear skirts and sandals in April and May, and I found that in Portland the rain rumours were indeed quite true. Plus I just missed everyone else. But I began learning the art of reading the card-signs by taking my tarot cards out on adventures with me. At first I would go sit in Pioneer Square and I would just ask some stranger who didn't look too hurried if they might let me read cards for them and then afterwards tell me how I did. This took a lot of guts, but I somehow mustered them up and followed through. This initial success led to subsequent night-wanderings into many local dive bars where I pursued the same practice. Portland perhaps has more cool dive bars than any other city I have ever been to. There's like 600. Ones that come to mind are The Sandy Hut (which people happily nicknamed "The Handy Slut :), the Hungry Tiger, Slabtown, My Father's Place, but the memories of other ones go on and on and on. There is NO LACK of serious imbibement, pinball machines, people watching, live music, great food, and $1 Pabsts in Portland. In fact, just writing this blog may be inspiration to throw together a school spring break northwest divebar adventure with my Arthie....fast, before there's a baby in m' belly!

Anyhoo, back to the Tarot. I ended up wandering a few nights a week, alone, into neighborhood bars, planting my patootie down on a stool, singling out a victim (some of the time they were nice looking fellows :), and asking the person if they would like a reading. In the end I started even charging 3$ a read! So funny when I look back at it. I had this idea that I would become a nationally famous, dive-bar hopping Tarot reader, reading Tarot for bargoers from Tennesee to Tucson and back to Portland. Such a dork. But I learned ALOT. People really took to my readings and out of all the times I have ever read for anyone, only once was the person skeptical and weird about it, and the funny thing about that was THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT THE CARDS were telling me! That he was skeptical and needed to open his heart, etc. Other than that, almost EVERY SINGLE TIME I have ever read cards for anyone the "write-on" :) results have surprised not only the person I am reading for but myself as well! They are almost always spot on and I am always prepared to for them to be totally NOT so I am always surprised. Especially lately since I left them mostly on a shelf for a few years. I tend to warn people that the cards are usually right but I can't guarantee anything and one thing is for sure, IT IS NOT ME! I have no talent in this thing other than just telling the person what the cards say, and that ain't talent! It is a really strange thing to do, however, and I take extra precaution about the future card because of this magical synchronicity. Tarot readers must be VERY careful not to detail the future. The future card is simply the most probable outcome if the person getting their cards read continues on THE PATH THAT THEY ARE CURRENTLY ON. There should be no scary or ominous future readings, ever. Because the future is in THAT PERSON'S HANDS and any decision they make can change that outcome. I often tell them that simply my reading of the cards WILL change the future because if they don't like the direction the cards are telling them they are headed in they will make sure to make a life change.

And I myself needed the universal voice this morning. And so I read. And to my delight, the cards gave me the assertiveness and guidance I was looking for. Alot of Christians think tarot cards are evil. But in my mind they are simply hardly different than saying a prayer. In both instances you are asking for guidance from the universe. For me the tarot is very spiritual AND IN NO WAY QUESTIONABLE AT ALL OR BAD. I believe God is far vaster and less human than most religious people imagine it to be, and therefore has the impermeating ability to soak into the tiny details and signs of your life all around you. In fact those signs ARE ALWAYS everywhere around you, it's just that often our eyes cannot see them. To me, the tarot cards simply harness those signs for a moment in time and spell those signs out directly. But the same exact instinct, direction, inner voice, etc already encompasses you, perhaps you just haven't noticed outright. These cards just make it clear. I am not playing with anything "dark" or "evil" when I read these cards because I read them with a heart of kindness and realness that knows that what the cards say could also be answered by contemplating deeply, prayer, friend's advice, and other paths of clarity and decision making. I do not believe that even the "ominous" looking cards (Eight of Cups, Ten of Swords, Nine of Swords) are ever "bad". I do not LET IN any darkness and so therefore I refuse to believe the old school christian ideas that think this practice to be of the devil. However.... when reading the cards, one must be careful not to overdramatize or draw unhealthy conclusions from them, especially ones that make the person looking for an answer uncomfortable or scared. FEAR is truly what the old school folks called "the Devil". Fear is the only Devil I know.




A song by me/Coal Beautiere (which is not another name for myself! just happens to be what I named my little bandy and it does not mean "dark beauty" it means "hold only to what is real and can withstand time") called Modern Dayz, which talks about those signs that are really all around you but easier to see sometimes with the tarot. Just gave it a listen for the first time in many moons, and it sure sounds a bit jumbled coming from my Macbook! Ah well.....


Here is a bit look at my funny Hollywood deck, which is quite hilarious. I picked it up in 1998 or so at The Garden Of Enchantment. (Yep Heather our favorite old magical shop from Old Sacramento!) Contrary to popular belief, I think that the idea that buying yourself Tarot cards is JUST AS RELIABLE as getting them from a friend, since I bought these and the book that goes along with them with my own money and they have worked out just great. But this deck is SOOOO cheesy looking. The book even says things like "A man resembling Sean Connery wears a crown and holds a golden wand." I'm NOT JOKING! But in 1998 I myself was new age/Hollywood/cheesy as hell (still am-ish). What gets me the most about this deck is the Lovers cards. It is possibly the cheesiest, dorkiest, tackiest, worst image of lovers I have ever seen. Funnily enough, that's kind of what I think about the idea of head-over-heels love these days- cheesy, tacky, and all around often lame. Being married and all, I guess I am partial to the companionship and committed version of long term love.....maybe that's what the illustrator thought too. Because the "friendship" and "wish fulfillment" cards are MUCH BETTER!

The infamous Lovers card, hilarious! What? Headband? Starjacket? Feathered hair.......LOVE IT! SO symbolically true:


Friendship, Two of Cups


Wish Fulfillment: Nine of Cups


The World


The High Priestess




Below are some cards from a different deck I purchased in Portland. It's a bit more timeless. :)

Oh how to put this into words

I guess I'll start with:

SNOW.

SNOW.

AND.............MORE SNOW.

The past month has been filled with ye old ups and downs. In the very overly dramatic weatherness of this past month I have: shoveled countless scoops of snow, purchased a used treadmill that I love, met with fellow bloggers and trailed the west in western gowns, danced all night to hours of Erasure songs whilst donning full late 80's regalia, fought unabashedly in a public place (Auto Zone or something) for one of the only times yet with my poor husband when our windshield wipers broke after he "forgot" to turn them off under the weight of poundage of snow, mingled and mixed my way to happiness later that same night at the ever-so-successful Cinema Caldera "Epic Dust" premiere night at the Cozmic Cafe, broken down in that same vehicle a week later on the canyon switchback road of Highway 49, put chains on for the first, second, third, and fourth times in my whole life, called Triple A four or five times to save us while in car/weather anarchy, spent a weekend snowed into my home with one of my oldest and dearest true friends, Ruebi and her adorable elf of a babyson, turned around and witnessed the horror (whilst in the midst yet another automobile-squabble with my husbie) of the entire back windshield crumpling in on itself in bite sized mini glass nuggets (for no apparent reason other than a stray flying pebble that flew from under a passing truck's tire perhaps.....) during a hail, rain, and windstorm in Placerville, driven back roads at 35mph the whole way to Rancho Cordova with a billowing parachute of annoying duct taped plastic tarpage flapping in the wind behind our car on our way to get the new back windshield (emergency-like, super annoying drive that involved several stops to reattach the crappy plastic) and then the topper, yesterday, slipped and slided and lurched my way into the task of putting chains on alone in a whiteout in the dark ONLY TO BE GREETED BY THE NIGHTMARISH DEMON-EYED RED-LIT "STALL" symbol as my car clunked into a full blown breakdown in the middle of an unplowed thoroughfare AGAIN last night. This unfortunate event involved actual tears and complete strangers.



Let's just say I HAVE HAD IT. :)

I put the smile there because really I know everything is just fine. Really I asked the great spirit and whatever you do or don't believe in for signs just a month ago, signs that would show me the way about weather:0 we should stay living here or not. Really I was a total bitch in my mind as I was breaking down last night and wanted to disintegrate out of my own body rather than ASK TOTAL STRANGERS FOR HELP but ne'ertheless, there they appeared, one after the other, kind and sweet and helpful as my temper tantrum over the breakdown of my car imploded on itself. Of course I couldn't be downright mean to them, but I just felt so MEAN inside my bones. Really I know life is always beautiful and to treat others as you would like to be treated and everything is going to be OK. Really I know that compared to the sadness and tragedy that has happened elsewhere in the world of late I have nothing at all to complain of whatsoever. Last night, after the two hours I waited to get rescued by my brave dad and brother and the subsequent trade off of my personage and belongings at the local somewhat-plowed Safeway, I sipped a beer and the emotional dam broke as my tears poured forth, which is seeming to become a recent trend. Two sips of beer, and the dam breaks.... I couldn't even figure out why I was crying except for one RECURRING question. WHY DO I TURN INTO SUCH A NIGHTMARE OF A GIRL WHEN SUBJECTED TO EVEN THE IDEA OF ASKING STRANGERS FOR HELP???? It's one of my most terrible weaknesses. And for the life of me, I still can't tell if it's pride or if it's humility. I know it has something to do with desperately not wanting to put anyone out as well as HATING to have to talk to someone I didn't expect to have to talk to. Especially in a blizzard. In the dark. In the middle of road in a broken car. I just can't understand what about me gets so very upset at the prospect of such a thing. I have no problem talking to strangers in line at the grocery store, or calling Triple A, or meeting new people. I JUST DON'T GET IT.

I think it has something to do with desperately not wanting to OWE anybody anything? Or being independent? Or not wanting to have to use up someone's time who isn't getting paid for it? I am just not exactly sure. No matter what it is, later last night, as I happily and exhaustedly sipped my IPA, the tears would not stop coming. I just kept seeing the kind faces of the strangers who stopped for me and I felt so horrible about my bad attitude and my reluctance to ask anyone for help. I felt in this odd way like those sweet hearts would have maybe even liked me to accept their offers for help, to go sit by their fire and warm my feet (as one kindly neighbor suggested even after I was a wretched wreck in front of his eyes), or to sit in their car and warm up. Like somehow my reception of their unexpected gifts would have helped the universe along, would have broken down barriers and formed some kind of kindness memories that would have made me smile my whole life long. But instead I refused, and my future beer sipping self- warm and toasty in my cabin- felt it was the wrong choice I'd made. To stay selfish and not to share my burdens.... Does that sound totally banana? Like if I'd given more in to the spirit of kindness it would have benefitted not just me but all involved? Somehow I felt like those strangers were just a part of me that had been waiting to happen, that we are all part of each other's sorrows and gifts, that the universe wants to remind us of how many good people are still in the world, that a higher spirit sometimes calls out our name to remember to take things lightly and keep our fears at bay and warns us to not grow old and paranoid and distrustful..... I so appreciated that reminder. Despite my witchy horrific snowed-in self, I so appreciated the small kind words and gestures and I so know they are a sign to my direction in life. They just may not be so much about where to live physically as about where my heart should dwell spiritually. And how in places like Japan after the earthquake this kind of togetherness and natural inclination toward helping out strangers must have shown itself a billion times brighter than my little stupid self-pitying incident last night. That somehow taking part in each other's life randomly can help to heal the tragedy, no matter how small the act. That people everywhere around the world have hearts that are, for the most part, helpful and kind and concerned when they see the true need for caring. I'm not talking about politics and generalizations. I'm talking about individuals, one of us unto the other. I know there are conspiracy theorists and the cynics and the skeptics, but I believe jadedness, even if one has a dose of it for a good reason, well....... that's just the stuff that makes you get old. And I don't want to be NOT childlike.

So I'm glad for my lesson this winter spring. In the snow and the snow and the snow. And I know summer is just around the corner.

Love you guys-

Adie