Tag: metaphysical

Dreams unwind, love’s a state of mind

I figure a quote from Stevie Nicks’s “Rhiannon” is as good a title as any for a post about mysterious things. You’re going to hear more from Stevie in this post, which is a response to questions from David and Mark.

In fact, an exchange with Mark yesterday made me think of the Brancacci Chapel in Florence. I told him that it’s one of my favorite places to study and think about. That’s because some of the faces that the various artists (mostly Filippino Lippi) painted in the frescoes are familiar to me.
you can read if you want to

Bingo!

Have you ever gone to one of those bingo halls located in some unfamiliar suburban location? A big utilitarian building with fluorescent lighting that makes everyone look ten years older? Where the non-smokers are put into a separate, smaller room because the majority of the bingo players are smokers?

My sister loves bingo and she wins. A lot. She’s been able to take vacations with her bingo winnings. She buys those little pull tabs at the bingo hall and wins with them, too. When she comes to Houston, I generally find one of those bingo halls and go with her. I do not win. But that’s okay. I’m not there for the bingo. I like to watch the people.

For one thing, this is the ONLY place in Houston where people gather quietly. We truly have the noisiest restaurants and stores of any city I’ve ever been in. But the bingo hall is hushed. Players are concentrating on their bingo sheets and the caller’s voice.

I enjoy checking out the good luck totems people bring and set up around their bingo sheets. It reminds me of when I travel. I like to carry favorite stones and crystals with me and set them up in my hotel room or condo. I usually have nag champa incense with me, too, and if I get a chance to buy cut flowers, I’ll add those. I don’t know why I started doing this, but it always makes me feel safer and happier in an unfamiliar place. When I did it on my first visit to New York, it made the hotel housekeepers smile at me and ask me questions. In countries like Bali, my friend Tandy tells me, hoteliers and innkeepers actually do this for their guests–leave little iconic gifts with fresh flowers in their rooms.

So I totally get why bingo players like to arrange their little space with their lucky charms, their dabbers, their ashtray–everything just so. I was sitting at my computer today when I suddenly realized that in my busy-ness, I’ve kind of let things collect on my desk. Though these things have no particular significance to me, I told Tom I feel like a bingo player.

I hope I win.


Stress ball from Tom, Happy Meal doll, champagne cork from New Year’s Eve, bookmark from our niece.

Synchronicity

In February of ’98, fourteen months after John died, his boyfriend James decided to accompany me on a trip to New York City. It was my first trip there, and I would be meeting my on-line friends (and new writing partners) Tim and Timmy face-to-face for the first time. James had lived in New York years before, and his sister was still living there, so he planned to help me navigate through my first couple of days in Manhattan, then spend the rest of his vacation with her.

Before our trip, I decided to do something special for him. I had part of a shirt that had been John’s, made of a crimson, velvet-like fabric, that James had loved and cut up, giving a portion to me. I used a cuff, with its button and buttonhole, to make a tiny bag. I went to Wild Earth (a local metaphysical store) to look for some special stones to put into the bag. I love stones and crystals, and James and I had given each other a few in the past.

When I was shopping at Wild Earth, I ran into James. We exchanged a panicked look and a mutual, “What are YOU doing here?” Clearly, we were on a similar errand. We both sort of got lost from each other and never mentioned it again.

Until we boarded our plane a few days later. Once we were settled in our seats, I reminded James that I’m not a good flyer. His idea of comfort was to say, “If we go down, at least we’ll die together.” Of course I smacked his arm. Then, only minutes from departure, I reached into my purse just as he reached into his bag, both of us saying, “I wanted to give you something before we leave…”

Then we laughed, because he’d made a small bag for me from part of the collar of that same shirt of John’s, and tied it with gold thread I’d used to string together dried rosebuds from John’s memorial service. We traded our little red pouches, and he examined the stones and crystals I’d selected for him, while I smiled like an idiot and thanked him for this.

Spring and Change

It’s the first day of spring and I just saw a yellow butterfly. It’s not the first butterfly I’ve seen this year, but still, I’ll take it as a good omen. I’ll take all the good omens I can get.

One time (at band camp) at Baba Yega’s, one of my favorite Montrose eateries, I shared my lunch with a butterfly. It landed on a piece of melon and stayed with me, drinking, for nearly half an hour. Better than watching the Discovery channel!

I recently went to Baba Yega’s for the first time in quite a while. I remember when it was a dumpy little place with great food. Then there was a kitchen fire and they renovated, and it was nicer and still had great food.

One of its best features was the garden. A rock fountain, pond, exotic birds, tons of beautiful water flowers surrounded by other flowering plants always in bloom… It was great to eat a relaxed lunch, wander through the garden and talk to the birds, then exit through Wild Earth, their metaphysical shop, which was a source for the essential oils, herbs, and stones and crystals I use in my bodywork and energy work practice.

It’s changed again. Wild Earth is gone. I guess they’re expanding an express feature of the restaurant into that space. The birds are gone. When I was there, the doors to the garden were closed. I don’t know if that was because of the cool weather or if lingering in the garden is no longer encouraged.

The food is still fine, but it’s not as much fun–nor does the brisker pace encourage you–to watch the clientele. The patrons could be picked up and set down in any suburban Bennigan’s or TGI Friday’s and blend into the unauthentic decor. Yet another Montrose establishment adapting to the changes of the last ten years. I miss the grittier, edgier Baba Yega’s…and Montrose.