My Spirit Guide said to turn left at the Dairy Queen (and they were wrong)

Oooooh, Spirit Guides (insert tinkly music)! Ultra-cosmic beings of serenity and wisdom, totally dedicated to your personal well-being. They tell you what you’re supposed to be doing with your life, right? They interpret your dreams, they tell you who not to marry, they assure you that you’re descended from someone cool like Genghis Khan or Patience Eggslap, and if you get a good one, they help you find your damn keys.

Well, your spirit guides (insert tinkly music), maybe. Mine spend a lot of time transmitting their wrestling matches over the last piece of bacon and trying to blame a variety of noises and smells on each other. I know who turned who’s laundry pink and who burned the noodles.

They’ve also kept me going all these years — just like friends tend to do.

My spirit guides (insert tinkly music) and I guide each other. We do all right, so far. They don’t know how to deal with the mysteries of existence any better than I do. (In fact, some insist that “shooting it” is a viable option.) They’re not wiser, or more holy, or even better at canasta than you or I; they’re just people, from a different plane of existence.

And when I think about it, that’s really the most important thing I ever needed to know about the esoteric state of the universe. As long as I know there is something else out there (or in here…is there a difference?), I don’t need it justified. Everything else becomes academic. Maybe I can figure that part out myself. Maybe I don’t need to. My “spirit guides” (insert tinkly music) and I are figuring it out together…but I suspect that the fact that we’ve connected at all is the only secret that ever needed to be discovered. Once that’s taken care of, the rest just falls into place.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe there’s a big towel fight in the kitchen.

Wait, who’s got my damn keys?

(insert tinkly music)

Happily Never After

One of the questions I tend to see the most in my work as a Tarot reader is some variation of “When are all my problems going to go away so that I can live the life I want without ever having to worry about anything, ever again?” This usually includes a couple of sub-clauses, like “When will I meet my perfect soul mate who will fulfill all of my romantic dreams and make my fantasies come true 24 hours a day?” and “When will I receive my great big pile of money so that all of my debt and other financial problems disappear forever and I can buy a big house and everything else I’ve ever wanted?”

So let me get this straight: your life isn’t perfect yet, and that pisses you right off. You’re sick of waiting for that worry-free existence to which everyone is entitled, regardless of how many mistakes you’ve made or what’s been distracting you from working on creating your own destiny.

Because, by god, just look around! Everyone else’s life is perfect. There’s obviously been a mistake. You just got missed somehow, and you want to know when Karma is going to wake up, apologize profusely, and shower you with money and candy and sexy glitter.

Of course. That’s exactly how life works. One of these days, it’s all gonna dump that goodness right in your lap, and you won’t have to do a thing. You’ve suffered enough! You deserve this.

It’s just gotta happen like that.

Right?

Any day now.

Yep.

Time Isn’t Real

So it hasn’t really been a year since my last post, no it hasn’t!

Has it?

It feels like about a day. Or two. Maybe a week, at most. But other facets of life get in the way of our good intentions and I started at the University and kind of had homework to do… but it’s almost summer now, and I’m back. The Gates of Grimagix have been thrown open once again.

Life pulses, doesn’t it? I just spent the past six or eight months withdrawn from most of the world. I buried myself in studying and hating most of my art classes (love art, hate anyone telling me what to think about it) and studying some more and generally shutting myself inside myself. Guess what I found in there?

Myself!

(As well as a few others — welcome aboard, new guys).

I’m ready to breathe out again.