Dani Nelson — who crafted the cover of The Reluctant Tarot Reader – is doing a wonderful program called Teaching Redefined (http://teachingredefined.com).
I sat down for a virtual chat with Dani to talk about my long, strange teaching career . . . which eventually morphed into being a Tarot reader.
We are all teachers. It’s just a matter of learning the most effective ways of sharing our gifts, while always being open to change.
Easy stuff, for sure.
Enjoy the interview over on YouTube.
It’s okay to be irritated. It doesn’t make you a bad person.
It’s okay to not get what you want. It’s even better when you do.
Amazing, in fact.
Everything changes when we realize that Life/God/dess/Whomever is on our side.
That Life pushes us forward, in grace and the eternal new.
Or the new eternal — with the ancient women, bearded sages and little ones showing us the way.
The signs? Everywhere.
Hearts traced in potatoes, the whispering dreams, the moments of peace that still your breath.
The carrying wind, the scratched pencil marks, the prayers spoken so earnestly.
The fire that emerges when we allow the space for it.
Ready?
Let’s go.
Roar, baby. Roar.
Moving. I’m an expert at it.
I have the unending morass of my childhood to thank. It planted in me a sense of desperation to break free and breathe. What kept me alive during those difficult years? A battered Appalachian trail guide and emergency survival kit. I promised myself that I’d trace the entire AT once I left home for good.
Instead, I moved all over the U.S. after college — Cape Cod, Colorado, Jersey City, NYC (Brooklyn, South Bronx, UES), Hudson river towns, Portland OR, Las Vegas, Florida, Vermont.
If I had a hankering for say, the West Coast, I’d fit whatever I could in my hatchback and go. This was after months of silent contemplation — but I always made it look like I was doing it on the fly.
Some of the moves were just to move. Some were for love. Some to run away. (A memorable one was in the dead of the night, a 350 Honda hitched to my Tercel with a mewking Avery in the front seat). Some were the “fuck you, you’ll miss me” pack ups. A few were purely economical. Other moves were opportunities I couldn’t pass up. A couple were the lick-my-wounds kind.
Most of them took me to places where I didn’t know a soul. There was so much pleasure in starting fresh, building a life and finding my way. I needed to prove something: to my perfectionist father and the emerging woman. I needed to learn about courage, over and over again.
This was freedom to me. More »
