Multicolor Among the Grayscale

Multicolor Among the Grayscale 1

“I don’t care what you think about me. I don’t think about you at all.” – Coco Chanel

Y’all have heard me talk about my 3-times rule before, right? And this one has been hitting me in the face, more than 3 times in the past two days.

Other. People’s. Opinions. Of me.

Really, Universe? ‘Cause you would I thought I had this one down.

One look at me should confirm, right? I live my own life and don’t take a freakin’ poll about whether or not what I like is “okay.” Duh. I’m an out-of-the-closet woo-woo pink-haired hippie freak. And proud of it.

But I do notice. Still, I notice. (Saturn-Uranus opposition, man.)

Just an example: Today I posted a link on my Low Carb page, to a Tarot interview I did..  Told them it was “in case you’re curious about the person behind this page.” Whenever I post a woo-woo link there, I always clearly label it “OFF-TOPIC” and warn the spiritually squeamish that if they don’t dig the woo-woo, they should pass it by. I post something off-topic on that site maybe 3 or 4 times a year. So it should be pretty easy to ignore.

There were some unhappy responses. Not surprising, considering there are over 20,000 people there. Some will be scared or bothered or freaked out or whatever by the woo-woo wonderful. Not a big deal, you cannot please everyone and I have no aspirations of such.

But as I am reading the comments, suddenly my heart starts pounding, accompanied by sensations of anger, fear and disgust washing over me like waves. It felt like being in the middle of an angry crowd, and somebody was about to start throwing rocks.

I realized quickly I was getting smacked with the feelings behind the responses (those who wrote and probably those who felt the same but not directly verbalizing). Oh my God! Sometimes, I get a contact buzz off of people’s emoting without really seeking it. It tends to be stronger if the emotion is actually about me. But this was just plain freaky.

I got away from my computer and grounded to catch my bearings. But it shook me a little; I wasn’t expecting it.

Sometimes I think my being different is helpful to other people, in and of itself. Like if I can be a big-mouthed, pink-haired old lady who readily acknowledges I believe in magic and talk to spirits and look to Tarot cards to solve problems, it makes it a little easier for somebody else who would like to be more…”unique”–but is afraid.

I cannot tell you how many times people have come up to me in public to comment on my hair. A few don’t like it–but most keep that to themselves. More light up. And some just sound wistful.

“I wish I had the guts to do that,” many say.

“It’s just hair. It grows out.” I tell them. It never seems to help, when I say that.

But you know, if your boss or your spouse or your neighbors or you mother hate weird hair colors, then it could be hard. Very hard. If you are not already sure you’re golden in terms of being “okay,” then it could be hard. If you’re feeling shaky or unsure or somehow broken, then the criticism and disapproval and negativity of even something so insignificant as your hair color is going to smack you in the face because it feels TRUE. Like all the other criticism you may hear.

I don’t know the moral of this story. Not really. Hater’s gonna hate? That you had better get your shielding in order if you’re going to really stand up and be different as Hell? Even if you know who you are and you know you’re okay, it doesn’t feel good to get blasted with the haters.

Only thing I know for sure: whoever or whatever you are, SOMEBODY is gonna hate it. I’d rather be hated for being myself than partially liked for being somebody I’m not. The only real insulation against any onslaught of such negativity is not giving it any weight. Detaching, you know?

Love thyself. That’s it.

I guess this whole post boils down to those words: LOVE THYSELF.

Can you relate?

 

 

Affirmations Video: Happy Weirdo!

Today’s affirmation seems like it was made just for me…

Embrace thy “uniqueness.” Because that’s one word for it. I think y’all know by now, I let my freak flag fly pretty damn high. One very big plus to doing that is that the people who would be put off by who I really am tend to keep a distance. We are both more joyful due that decision.

Are you a (happy) weirdo?

My Tarot Deck Basket.

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Divination decks excluded. Just Tarot. Basket courtesy awesome Xmas gift!

Tarot Kitty Helpers

Tarot Kitty Helpers 2

Smokey, aka Buddha-Cat

This is Smokey, during a recently Everyday Tarot draw. She thought she’d jump in the middle of what I was doing to help. It’s exactly as much help as it looks like it would be.

We sometimes call her Buddha cat, both for her Buddha belly and ironically, since her temperament is known to be..uh, not very Zen. She doesn’t join me for many readings because she prefers not to be shut in the room.

That is Jewels, keeping me company during a reading. She’s more than happy to be in the room while I read–she sometimes gets mad if I don’t let her in and cries incessantly outside the door, as some of my clients can no doubt attest. Isn’t she adorable?

They do remind me to be more Zen. No creature on Earth seems to know more about living in the moment than a cat. Or maybe it’s just my cats. I don’t know.

Tarot Kitty Helpers 3

Jewels naps to Tarot readings.

Do your little furry friends help you, too?

Tarot in Real Life: Tarot Makes Fun of Me

Tarot in Real Life: Tarot Makes Fun of Me 4A few months back, I made a store run. As I was parking,  in the corner of the lot I spy a beat-up car parked diagonally, with a sign leaning across the front. The door is ajar and there’s a woman stretched out in the seat, laying back with her foot sticking outside the door. This worried me.

“Oh my gosh! Did she hit that sign?!? Why is she just sitting there? Is she waiting for somebody to come? Is she alright?”

I consider going over to check on her. I realize, though, that there are people all over the general area and no one else seems the slightest bit concerned. Why? I do a gut-check and am not feeling any kind of emotional disturbance.

I also am very aware I’m considered pretty much top of the list of the “town color.” As in, I’m known around here as “The Crazy Cat Lady.” The old men sometimes titter and looked shocked when I bring my pink-haired self into the Kwik shop to buy Mountain Dew and Lotto.

While this doesn’t especially bother me overall, I don’t want to make it worse, either. As my daughter sometimes reminds me, “They think we’re crazy as it is.”  It’s true. I consider going stealth, but there was no other destination in that area that would have allowed me to check it out nonchalantly.

I did have the Tarot Nova in my purse, though. So instead of stressing between looking stupid versus potentially leaving someone in need, I decided to pull a card. It was the Three of Wands.

I know what that means…wait. So I decided to listen. Listening to Tarot or not is always a choice. But I’ve found, things go better when you do. I go on in the store, feeling just a little guilty, wondering if I’m a victim of the bystander effect or something. I’d decided, I’d drive by the car on the way out so I could take an under-the-radar look.

I rush through my shopping and get ready to leave. On the way out, I swing around by the car…Oh.

She’s a SCHOOL CROSSING GUARD. The sign was her “Stop” sign and the car? It’s just a beat up car, missing the grill. Boy, did I feel silly. Here I was, giving myself quite the little guilt trip for not running over to rescue the school crossing guard, waiting for some children to help. Sheesh.

And I had to laugh, looking at that Three of Wands again. I realized, Tarot just said I need glasses!

Does Tarot make fun of you, too?

Crazy Talking the Bugs

Crazy Talking the Bugs 5

They listen more often than kids!

I couldn’t help but think of Josi. I’ve been talking to the bugs–or their people, whomever is listening.

“Hey! No ants on my chair. Or in my house. And no bees. Go away, wasp! I keep these flowers out here, and you’re welcome to enjoy them if you don’t hurt anything. But stay out of my space. When I’m out here, it’s off limits!”

No. I don’t know why the neighbors call me the Crazy Cat Lady. But I don’t really care. Because the bugs have been minding me. Those ants know, I’m serious. I intimated there could be bloodshed for transgressions. They backed off.

What crazy talkin’ do you do?

 

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