on a mission from
Goddess

Just to let you know, this blog has been named one of the 50 Up and Coming Wellness Blogs Worth Reading.  Woo hoo!  I hope you have been enjoying reading it and continue to do so.  If there is any topic not covered here, please let me know and I'll see what I can do to address it.  Thanks for helping make this blog the success it is!

This October we will be hosting the Carnival of Healing.  We're looking for blog articles on all types of healing methods and experiences of a holistic nature.  To view the past carnival of healing go here.  Please send all submissions to devioftherose@yahoo.com. 

You know there is nothing I like more than supporting my fellow Bronxites, except helping support fellow women authors of good stories about great women characters.  Now I have the chance to do both.  Phyllis Schieber writes here about her love of writing about the types of women we all know and love in, not one, but two books hot off the presses right now (and mature women at that)! 

Here's what she has to say about the joys of female friendship:

I am quite fond of men in spite of the fact that my work often seems to belie this revelation. After all, I am a wife, the mother of a son, a sister to a brother, and the daughter of a father I adored. Nevertheless, when I need to talk, I always turn to my girlfriends. I know I can depend on them in ways that men invariably seem unable to offer without some prodding or direction.

It is just so much easier to be myself with the women in my life. They rarely disappoint me and, if they do, I can tell them and expect a reasonable reaction and a willingness to either change or to compromise. Perhaps, this explains why I celebrate the bonds between women in my work.  I am blessed to have a circle of women friends who sustain me, keep me sane, remind me of my worth, and reassure me that I am treasured. We reaffirm our love for each other each time we speak.  I think nothing of blowing kisses into the phone before hanging up or closing an email with a number of Xs that most men would be likely to find excessive or threatening.  Most women are nurturers. They spend their lives caring for their children, their husbands, their partners, their ailing parents, their students, their neighbors and co-workers, the list is endless—and this may be exactly the reason we understand the need to let each other know how much we matter, how much we are appreciated. Friends are my support, my secret keepers, my cheering section—they mean everything to me. I cannot imagine how any woman survives without close woman friends. I know that I would not be able to get through my day without some contact with my girlfriends.

In her essay, “Women Are Just Better,” Anna Quindlen quotes the observation of a friend who says, “Have you ever noticed that what passes as a terrific man would only be an average woman?” And that’s when, as Quindlen describes it, “A Roman candle went off in my head… What I expect from my male friends is that they are polite and clean. What I expect from my female friends is unconditional love, the ability to finish my sentences for me when I am sobbing, a complete and total willingness to pour out their hearts to me, and the ability to tell me why the meat thermometer isn’t supposed to touch the bone.” And this is exactly what I expect and invariably receive from the women friends in my life.

In Willing Spirits, I describe what it is like when the novel’s protagonists, Gwen and Jane, find themselves “falling in love” shortly after they meet.

Yes, women do fall in love with each other. Differently, of course than they fall in love with men. Falling in love with a man is a feverish experience. There is little control. But falling in love with a woman is much more serious. It guarantees so much more for the investment. For it is from other women that women are nurtured. It is from other women that they hear what they hope to hear from men. I understand. I know how you feel. I’m sorry for your pain. I care about what you think: Words that need no prompting. In that circle, women tell each other things that men and women tell each other first with their hands and lips and tongues before they can tell each other with words. Women comfort each other with touch that is meant to heal, rather than to excite. The mysteries of love are less complex between women. The hidden passages are easier to negotiate. And the dangers do not seem as great as when the same journey is taken with a man.  Around each   dank and frightening corner, women hold out their hands to each other and form a human chain that is, quite simply, spiritually different. The lucky ones find men who (and it is a deep and well-kept secret between women) are more like women.

I have women friends from various stages of my life. One friend in particular has been my friend since she was twelve and I was ten (I continue to point out our age difference at every opportunity!) We met at sleep away camp and in the almost fifty years that we have been friends, we have been through everything together. Several years ago, she found out she had lung cancer. It has been a long and challenging battle that she blessedly seems to have won, but we take nothing for granted. We speak every morning, exchange news, reassure each other we are still here, and remind ourselves how lucky we are to be friends, to have each other yet one more day. We always, always have something to talk about, secrets to share. We are always still girls together. And I love that about us.

In The Sinner’s Guide to Confession, the protagonists, Kaye, Ellen, and Barbara, are very different from each other, yet their bond is unshakable. They are girlfriends. They may disagree. They may disapprove. But they are there for each other. It is the one certainty they can depend on in their otherwise unpredictable lives. Their bond is solid, and it strengthens each of them, making possible for them to navigate the unforeseen complexities that come their way. They are girlfriends together.

I write about women and celebrate the bonds we share because I know for certain that the women who read my work will invariably come across a line or a passage that causes them to pause and recognize themselves. This is the goal of every writer. I know this because I am both a writer and a reader.

I judge the value of a book by how many “aha” moments I have—one is often enough to sustain me. And these moments are what I aspire to in my own work. I can visualize the reader, see her close the book for a moment and feel that she is understood. We are all girlfriends. I close the acknowledgments in Willing Spirits with the following statement: “Mostly, however, I am indebted to my friends, the women who embrace me with their open hearts. They nourish me with their love and goodwill. I have been blessed to be surrounded by women who indulge my moods, allow my eccentricities, listen to my complaints, and applaud my triumphs. I cannot imagine how I would thrive without any one of them. They never disappoint me.” Girlfriends. My girlfriends. These are the women I celebrate in my work. My girlfriends. My mainstays, each and every one of them.

Join us on the Sinners Guide to Confession and Willing Spirits virtual tour. To learn more about the tour, visit http://bookpromotionservices.com/2010/05/04/phyllis-schieber-blog-outreach/. You can also learn more about Phyllis Schieber and her books at http://www.phyllisschieber.wordpress.com.

I ran across this bit of disturbing video on my way around the interwebs.  I honestly don't know what the dance teacher was thinking when she put forth this dance.  I may be turning into an old fart, but this is waaaay to much for a group of little girls.  I think Beyonce wears more than this in her video for the song.



But here's what I find really interesting--isn't the song about getting a guy to make a commitment (put a ring on it) not on flaunting your hoo has in a guys face?  I guess that Ralph Waldo Emerson quote is true, the one that says something like, do not talk to me of what you are for what you do thunders in my ears so that I cannot hear.  Maybe the lesson is, if you don't want little girl running around in this manner, maybe the big girls ought to be a bit more circumspect.

Here's another video I came upon recently.  The focus here is on beauty also, but in a way I appreciate much more.  You may not last the whole eight minutes, but some of these images are really incredible.



My only complaint would be the dearth of images of any other than European images (save one or two).  The divine feminine knows no time, no race. no age, in the sense that she is all time, all races, all ages, and should be, in my humble opinion, depicted as such.  I think all of us, from whatever time, whatever race, whatever age should ensure that all visions of the goddess are included.

One goal I have set for myself this year is to finally learn the Tarot as well as I have always wanted. I've done readings for myself and others (sometimes even for a few sheckels) since I was in high school--many, many years ago.  But I've always felt as thought I were winging it rather than really competent.  So I'm taking a couple classes to really hone my skills and my connection with the cards. I have a few decks now--the ubiquitous Rider set, the Thoth, a book of the Dead set that I got free with a purchase, but I really like them and a set of Universal Goddess Tarot cards.  I try to draw a card from one wet every day or every other day to really study them.  The Goddess cards I'll post here.

So to start, I'll pick . . .

X  The Wheel
The goddess represented here is Arianrhod, lady of karma.  One minute her silver wheel turns for you, another against. And from the gleeful way she frolicks, it doesn't seem she minds her role.  The wheel in most decks represents the operation of fortune in the querent's life or perhaps a turning point where one must take a new tack.  It's interesting that this card comes for me the day after my first semester in graduate school ended. What does this card say for you?

Subject: When women lie

One day, when a seamstress was  sewing while sitting close to ariver, her thimble fell  into the river. When she cried out, the Lord appeared  and asked, "My dear child, why are you crying?" The  seamstress replied that her thimble had fallen into the
water and that she needed it to help her husband in  making a living for their family. The Lord dipped His  hand into the water and pulled up a golden thimble set  with sapphires.


"Is this your thimble?" the  Lord asked The seamstress replied, "No."
The Lord again dipped into  the river. He held out a golden thimble studded with  rubies.


"Is this your thimble?" the  Lord asked. Again, the seamstress replied, "No."
The Lord reached down  again and came up with a leather thimble.


"Is this your thimble ?" the  Lord asked. The seamstress replied, "Yes." The Lord was  pleased with the woman's honesty and gave her all three  thimbles to keep, and the seamstress went home happy.

Some years  later, the seamstress was walking with her husband along  the riverbank, and her husband fell into the river and  disappeared under the water. When she cried out, the  Lord again appeared and asked her, "Why are you crying?"  "Oh Lord, my husband has fallen into the river!"

The Lord went down into the  water and came up with George Clooney. "Is this your  husband?" the Lord asked.


"Yes," cried the  seamstress.. The Lord was furious. "You lied! That is an  untruth!" The seamstress replied, "Oh, forgive me, my  Lord. It is a misunderstanding. You see, if I had said  'no' to George Clooney, you would have come up with Brad  Pitt.


Then if I said 'no' to him,  you would have come up with my husband. Had I then said  'yes,' you would have given me all three. Lord, I'm not  in the best of health and would not be able to take care  of all three husbands, so THAT'S why I said 'yes' to  George Clooney.
And so the Lord let her keep  him.


The moral of this story  is:
Whenever a  woman lies, it's for a good and honorable reason, and in  the best interest of others.
That's our story, and  we're sticking to it.

Signed,
All Us  Women, Amen