28 May 18: In Memoriam: Patrick Napolitano

I received the news last night that my little brother Patrick went down in a vintage plane in New Mexico from Kansas on the way back to Fresno sometime between Friday night and Saturday, I guess. He was a very experienced pilot, a freak of a mechanical maintenance man, and more than anything else, just loved being up there all by himself.

“You know that song, “Sailing?” he’d said, back when he was working for MGM Grand airlines counting and measuring and checking and re-checking every bolt and screw. I remember how proud I was on the tarmac when we’d boarded the plane and he’d walked us out. That’s my brother, I’d said, and if he checked this plane, it’s definitely ok.

“That’s how I feel up there.”

“Whenever you get on a plane” he’d said to me sternly, “You need to ask for the 90 hour Stem-to-Stern Certificate. They have to check that plane stem to stern every 90 flying hours, or they can’t take off. With commercial schedules these days there’s no way they can do that. They have to show you that certificate.” I nodded, imagining the scene:

…a planeload of pissed-off New Yorkers. “Sorry, we can’t leave..” the annoyed pilot says over the P.A, “The bitch in 32B needs to see our ‘stem to stern‘ inspection certificate. Guess we’ll aaaaaallllll just have to wait a little looooonger!”

Patrick was a unique, eccentric kid. I mean, he lived in his own world. In our family at that point the sooner you found your own world to live in the better.

When he was really little, he became completely fascinated and obsessed by the trash truck. He’d stand by the window, eyes wide, and watch them ride in on the huge gray beast like warriors on a tank, the truck beeping and backing up and the huge jaw-like apparatus lowering and picking up the cans, the trash man supervising and assisting the whole operation masterfully from the ‘stern’, leaping from bumper to curb like a dancer, waving, beep beep beep until the mighty tank rumbled away.

Little Patrick must have been about 3 or 4 when he morphed into a trash truck. Purposefully striding around the house on his new little legs, his little right hand was on an imaginary stickshift as his little left hand confidently maneuvered an imaginary steering wheel. He’d ‘drive’ around the coffee table, stop, and carefully check his imaginary rear-view mirror before sounding a little ‘beep beep beep‘, back up, change course and head to the kitchen.

I remember him in being in this mode most of the time.

As soon as he could he started hanging out at the Van Nuys Airport before he was old enough to drive, riding with the Civil Air Patrol and working on finding a missing plane that had gone down decades earlier.

He found it.

If my brother were that hyper, mysterious little kid today, he’d be doped up within an inch of a walking coma.

We just knew there was something going on we didn’t understand but it was obviously very clear to him, so we just watched him go…marvelled at him, really.

I’m so moved to read today what I’m reading about him, seems that a lot of other people feel the same way I do.

 

 

Mad respect, baby boy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

24 March 18: Queen of Cups

Come down to earth, woman. Well this Mercury Retrograde is certainly having its way with me, that’s for sure. Speakers out, fridge out, drove an hour out of town to visit friends last night only to get home late to discover I’d left my laptop, so drove out again this morning to retrieve it. Luckily that stretch of California highway never gets old, and it was quite the visit. A beautiful old chicken ranch with a vintage history and full of spirit(s). An old stone aviary, pond, huge orange trees. It was just one message after the other, truly magic. Guitars, a bell, and a remote-viewed black widow (did you think I wouldn’t feel you, bitch? Sure enough, there she was…all nested up in a fake barn owl we were about to load in the car).  A cellar full of old canning jars. Old homes tell tales. Today, it turns out, is not Sunday but Saturday, and so I must re-adjust. Somehow there’s some missing time,  but I’m delighted.

The Queen of Cups says it all. Blue blue and more blue on this beautiful, dreamy Morgan-Greer card, this Venusian sea-queen wears a crown of shells and pearls, her hair a twist of gold, and a long pearl earring. She holds a huge golden goblet that seems to be empty, her blue eyes wide. She is a psychic Queen, heart-driven, and open to all things unconscious (Pisces/Scorpio/Cancer) and feels very deeply. She’s sentimental. She’s an empath and if not, almost telepathic.

We see the blue ocean behind her, and a beautiful, round, huge white shell like a full moon. The moon rules the watery emotions, and rules her.  She is feminine, or if a male very in touch with and comfortable with his feminine side. Psychic. Sympathetic. She feels ya, ya know?

She’s the artistic one wearing – what is she wearing? Who wears a crown of seashells to a party? That would be her. She doesn’t mean to be kooky, that’s just how she is. It’s her dream, we just live in it.

When she loves, she really loves. She’s a sucker though. In her weak moments she’ll give you the shirt off her back..

Let’s reel her in before she does that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2 March 18: Ace of Cups & The Chariot

Control your emotions. The always appreciated and beautiful Ace of Cups turned itself over like a sneaky little smile. So sweet, this image. So reassuring. Placid, blue water as far as the eye can see. In the foreground, a beautiful lotus blossom hovers just above the water, a symbol of rebirth. It is in full bloom, white and edged in pink. Beside it is a tight pink bud that will open in the morning when this lotus folds at night. A hand extends from the dreamy, foggy bank of clouds to offer us a simple gold goblet from which 5 streams of water flow, love creating and permeating the 5 senses. A dove hovers in the air behind the cup, and a strange glow emanates from it up through the water (Morgan-Greer). This is pure love, joy, emotion. The cup symbolizes your heart, and your heart is bursting. Tears of joy, your cup runneth over. Gushing. You need a box of tissues! I decided to draw another card to see what to do with all this emotion

The Chariot is #7 of the Major Arcana, a number of Faith. A man drives a chariot pulled by 2 horses. This card is ruled by Cancer, and the driver wears crescent moons on his shoulders and has at his side a staff topped with a crescent moon also. Cancer, being ruled by the moon, is emotional, changeable and watery as hell, and beside the flooded cup of the Ace we have all kinds of overflowing and volatile emotion here – never mind the full moon we’re under now – and these horses face left and right, wanting to run off in opposite directions. One is black and one is white, almost on a bipolar level, and somehow he needs to keep these things together on one  course and moving ahead in a straight line.

He is struggling to do that and not be overwhelmed and it’s a major effort. He seems to be keeping them barely under control. There’s a serious head vs. heart conflict here, but these horses have to sync up to pull that chariot, and somehow heart and head have to sync up as well. It’s almost painful for this emotional person to control themselves. He or she is the kind that ‘feels too much’ and struggles constantly with their emotions. That’s a painful way to live, and there may be a degree of self-medication involved that isn’t helping, and could lead to addictions.  This is sad, because love isn’t enough. The person needs objective, professional help.

 

Don’t drink and drive. It’s a full moon, makes the horses crazy.

 

 

 

 

28 Feb 18: The Empress

Don’t mess with big mama was the first thing that I heard when I drew this card from the Morgan Greer deck. Now, I know better than to second-guess my unseen posse, but I’m familiar with the Empress, mother of all things, or so I thought. She wears a flowing robe, and is usually assumed to be pregnant, and indeed this card can foretell pregnancy, whether human physical pregnancy or a work of art or creation waiting to be ‘born’.  She is the number 3, the number of creation itself. On the Greer card, she holds a beautiful violet water lily rather than the sceptre of royalty.

In fact she is influenced by beautiful Venus, and rather than the chafes of wheat in traditional decks she holds her water lily (fertility, sexuality, creation, rebirth) in a bouquet of cattails. One foot on a crescent moon, and one solidly on the earth, she is comfortable among mature, lush green trees beside a waterfall and deep blue lake under a spotless blue sky. A tiny pumpkin at her feet beside the crescent moon suggests she nurtures life through these phases to completion, harvest or birth. She is serene and strong, and holds a shield emblazoned with an eagle protectively in her right arm. The shield is what caught my attention, as the traditional decks show a heart-shaped shield marked with the sign of Venus resting at her feet, and a crown of stars on her head, and a string of 9 pearls around her neck, as if she wears the solar system as jewelry.

The Russian deck shows a royal empress with a sceptre and shield seated on an ornate golden throne, her shield at her side but hers is a double-headed eagle, which led me down the rabbit hole. Way too much information to be tolerated here, we’re tying to wake up, after all, but the woman who is depicted as the Empress in the Russian deck was quite a character and superpower by the name of Zoe Palaiologina, aka Sofia the Byzantine. Another sort of Empress altogether, and if she were pregnant on this card we’d have to see more than just the peek between her short ermine robe (called a ‘soul warmer’ ) artist Yuri Sukov has given us to tell, which is probably what she intends. She is in a dark throne room, and possibly must suppress whatever natural ‘softness’ or outward expressions of femininity she might have in order to be taken seriously to get the job done, because, well, she’s the Empress. A completely different sort of woman, but both deserving of their ‘thrones’. In one deck, there is softness, she seems to be protecting home and her unborn child. In the other, there seems to be a colder, more detached demeanor, but she is doing the same. As a matter of fact, she looks like my Russian grandmother, who was not the most demonstrative person in the world and covered her furniture in plastic whenever we came over. Or at least I certainly hope it wasn’t like that all the time, the lampshades even. Miss her borscht.

So she’s the one who probably gave me the message in the first place, then.

Don’t mess with big mama. Or her cubs. 

 

15 Dec 17: The Emperor

The Emperor. Always up before the sun, I wait until the first rays before picking up the cards. I believe that the first light, like mother’s milk or the first bite of a baby rattlesnake, is the most potent. The Emperor presented himself and demands serious consideration and reverence, and since I had to leave to take my car in early I decided I’d wait until now to give him the attention he deserves and demands. However, I do know the Emperor, who does not mess around. He is the number 4 on steroids, that is, not only does he embody stability – which is the number 4, but on a level that is almost Godlike. He is revered, worshipped, looked up to. He is wise, he is noble, he is the Father. We see him on his throne, a  mysterious jewelled orb in hand. Behind him to the right on his throne is what looks like an Aztec relic, or an ancient Peruvian winged figure rising out of what looks like sand or a river of gold, suggesting the Jin of the Arabian desert, the rising spirit. Then there is a great city in the distance. It’s as if this Father has watched this world, this mysterious jewelled orb he holds in his lap, from ancient sands to great cities…from the beginning of time.

This card very often represents a father who has passed. I would have to write extensively – and I will – about how my Dad sticks his ghosty nose in my business when I need him to, answers thoughts I never speak out loud to anyone, and gives pretty good advice now that I’m listening and now that he understands. I’ve had 3 clients in the past year who had their fathers come through in their readings, and one made it very clear he did not want his daughter messing with any of this psychic mess…the reading would never get to her, re-recorded it, it got lost. One laptop crashed, another crashed. Just as I was about to tell her somebody doesn’t want you to be doing this (she was coming into money, and he was justifiably worried someone would scam her out of it in her vulnerable state) and I sure didn’t want him trashing MY electronics, she mailed me that her previous reader had had her computer shut down and just gave up on the reading altogether. She doesn’t need readers, she just needs to listen to her Dad.

So I knew my schedule  was off today, and wondered what I’d do about getting home, etc., when I heard my Dad remind me that I’d agreed to trust him and talk to him and listen to him whenever I wanted to.

So I took the car in and just went off wandering. 10 miles easy, just a walkabout. Tripped into all kinds of things that only my Dad would know would resonate with me. Found a crazy little surplus store, a neglected Indian burial ground (we’ll be dealing with that), met a new artist friend as we both tried to keep a dog off the highway, discovered a historic building that set off my ghost detector and won $40 on $1 bonus poker over my casino lunch taco.

There are those who know you the best and have your best interest at heart. You can’t see them, but you can’t see the wind, either.

And he knew I needed a vacation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

14 Dec 17: The Devil

The Devil.

Well, well. Hello ‘Devil’, if, in fact, that is your real name…I call you fear, jealousy, tyranny, temptation, evil, hate and lust, and not the good kind of lust, either. Basically, you are Anti-Love. No disrespect, my worthy adversary, but certainly no sympathy . I was up not too long ago watching stars rain down all around me. One of them didn’t flame out until a few feet from the ground and left a trail of glitter a mile long.  I was absolutely blown away. I feel like I’ve put my finger in a socket this morning so don’t mess.

On the card, we have a demon towering over two chained figures. He is depicted as an evil puppeteer, gleefully manipulating these poor humans. In some decks, their chains are loosely bound, implying that they could beak away if they really wanted to – or that whatever holds them together isn’t healthy on some level, but they have the Devil in common, and he is strong: on this card, he looks like an incarcerated bodybuilder, prison ink and all.

In the Russian deck, the only recognizable face is that of the Devil, who is depicted as Joseph Stalin.  Apparently the Pope drew the same card  this morning and straight up called out the Devil as a person…that was weird.

When you are insecure, he loves it. When you are afraid, he loves it. When are weak and lose control, he loves it. But you don’t. Just tell him to f*** off, he’ll get over it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13 Dec 17: Knight of Swords, reversed

Knight of Swords, reversed: someone, unfortunately, is not to be trusted. Perhaps this is someone you’ve met recently. This is a spy card, plain and simple. Someone’s lurking, reading your mail, listening to your conversations, even stealing your ideas. This guy, or girl, is just an asshole in general. Cocky, boastful, arrogant, superior, blunt,  crashes every conversation. Knows more than anybody else.

The suit corresponds with Libra, Gemini or Aquarius. This is a card of a climber, the guy who would sell his own mother. There’s a weasel in the henhouse, as it were, so mind your privacy and security, circle your wagons, and keep your plans and ideas to yourself for now.