On Saturday I had my Tarot Cards read by a blue-eyed fairy. (Seriously, I’m pretty sure she was not of this world, even though she lives in my town and is in my greater circle of friends and acquaintances.) I sat down in Sparky, which is a little airstream trailer, and faced this fairy a foot and a half away from me as she peered into my eyes and asked the question; “What brings you?” I don’t know. Duh! I just thought it would be fun.
“Well you must have a question.” She pushed with her giant fairy eyes. “Okay,” I ventured, “maybe about my writing. I feel like I’m holding back. “ She asked me to draw one card with my left hand and set it in the middle of the table.
“This is a spiritual card,” she said. “You are embarking on a transformation. Draw another card.” (Now she had already told three of my friends that they were going on a trip, so I was expecting a trip to be in my future. Big deal. I’m leaving on a trip next week. She never mentioned it.) “There are many people trying to distract you. Maybe your family and friends. They are tugging at you.” Uh, huh. “Draw another card. Sometime this summer you are going to have to make a choice. It will be crystal clear. You must choose yourself.”
I have a friend who can picture me exactly. From three thousand miles away, she can see me in my kitchen in high heels and a dress, preparing a feast for a small crowd of those I love. She knows I will have been up since dawn, having arranged the flowers, changed the pillows on the sofa to Spring pastels, brought out the pink plates and prepared the three entrees and three side dishes intended to feed twenty five, (but will actually feed seventy five.)
Knowing that my friend knows me so intimately washes over me like warm salt water, and heals wounds I have yet to name. They are the wounds of being invisible. This is real intimacy, being seen and truly known. My friend knows my heart and how in my heart I want nothing more than to lavish love and create memories and magic for my family and friends. She also knows my head that is talking to me all through the afternoon, pointing out that “I am too old for this, and asking the air “when do I pass the baton?” She knows that today, the day “after” I feel like I have been run over by a semi truck and dragged and that I have a sugar hangover and have re-started my diet. Again. You cannot buy this quality of friendship. It has to be born.
I met my friend Kym over thirteen years ago and our souls recognized each other, if not immediately, then soon after. Something about my remembering her name and her speaking my truth. We could each see the other. The heart knows.
I can feel my children, who are now on the downhill side of forty, growing up to the point that they no longer need me in much of any way. This is how it’s supposed to be. They needed me well into their thirties and now they do not. Good job Mom! As I pat myself on the back, now what do I do?
I have not talked to my friend Kym and yet I know what she will say. She will say to choose myself. She will imagine me into a life I cannot imagine, of walks on the beach and leisurely lunches looking out at the mountains, followed by a nap. She will see the finches at my window and the cushy chairs and lounges that call to be occupied on my terrace overlooking the oaks and the creek below. She will see me with the perfect cup of coffee and my notebook. Maybe I will be taking a break from painting and having a snack of fruit and a cracker with brie. My phone will be silent.
This past week I held not one but two live birds who had become trapped inside my living room. The first was a humming bird who feverishly beat her wings and pressed against the glass to no avail. When she lit, I scooped her up with my hand and set her free outside. Her wings felt like butterfly wings. Later a finch came in and repeated the failed exit at the window. She fought against my help at first but then surrendered. I set her free to fly away as well. Maybe because I saw them I could free them. Maybe because my friend sees me I will be free to fly on as well and leave behind a little pile of poop and some pretty feathers to prove that I was truly here.
My life is so glamorous! It’s just not fair, lucky for me!!