Presenting a clean cheek

Libra Horoscope for week of October 29, 2009




At a family planning conference in Beijing, a researcher from Ghana presented testimony about tribal issues that he had in part gleaned through interviews with dead ancestors. He said that spirit mediums had acted as his "translators." When he was met with skepticism from colleagues, he was defensive. "If I only heard from the living," he explained, "I wouldn't get a very good balance." His perspective would be smart for you to adopt right now, Libra. To make the wisest decisions and take the most righteous action, draw inspiration from what has passed away as much as from what's alive and in your face. Halloween costume suggestion: a spirit medium.







Do you want to take a further look at your ever-evolving destiny? Check out your EXPANDED AUDIO HOROSCOPE.



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The preceding oracle comes from the revised and expanded edition of my book, PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings. You can order it at Amazon.



When I was a child my mother moved us around a lot.  Let me expand on that.......when I match up records, school reports, addresses I see that we rarely made it a full year anywhere.  I was a resilient child and felt it was my job to watch out for my mother.  When we were on the East Coast I wound up at my grandparents house.  Sometimes with my mother, sometimes without. 

It was a small apartment.  I remember the sound of clocks ticking.  Small clocks in every place, ticking in sequence, so that when the apartment settled down, my breathing could find a rhythm within the ticking of those clocks.

I was the center of attraction on those visits.  I think my mother was at some point allowed to run off as she did and leave me there.  My grandfather would take me into his arms and kiss me tenderly, his eyes shining and i would say that his cheeks scratched. 

I had no father, no uncle, no male influence whatsoever and his sandpaper cheek was so different from my world.  He never took offense but took me into the bathroom.  He made a great show of putting a clean towel on the closed lid of the toilet seat.  And then he would begin......

There was a ritual involved here that I didn't know at the time extended beyond me and him at that moment.  It followed him back into his very youth I am sure, when he first shaved.  I was too young to ask who showed him how to shave, I didn't care....he was doing this for me.

He lathered the brush into the cup with the special action.....lathering up his face...looking at my watching him, transfixed and in total wonderment to see this process.  He let me in on this very personal ritual where no one else had.  My mother never let me see her without her 'face' on in the morning....so this was even more special to me.

My grandfather took blade to his face and stroked the growth off.  He worked his way around his face......sometimes smiling down at me.  Then he would rinse off his remaining soap and present his cheek for the final test..........

A kiss on his cleanly shaven face was perfection.  His nod of acceptance of my approval and then we would move on to something else.  He always had a special chair for me, a small rocking chair when I was little, and something more age appropriate when I got older.

He sliced my oranges into small eighths for me.  He made me cherry soda from syrup and seltzer.  He took me for long walks and showed me off to the neighborhood store owners that knew him.  He kept me moving along with a tenderness and love that I really miss. 

I never remember him asking me about what went on with my mother.  I don't think he needed to ask or could handle what our life was like away from him.  He allowed me to be in the moment with him.  He never talked about my father being gone, my mother's strange life choices, or the fact that nothing was as he would have liked it to be for me.  Instead he lavished me with attention and made me feel special. 

Whatever he saw going on  he kept from me and I am sure gave my mother an earful.  Sometimes I think it caused her to pause for a bit but something else would come up and we'd be packing again to leave once more for some other place that she felt would work out better.

My grandfather was a man who came from Poland on his own.  As far as I know his family went to Canada and he came to New York City.  He was a furrier and supported the unionization of his shop and eventually became the steward.  He worked very hard and when my grandmother died he re-married a woman he had known from his town in Poland.  She talked him into moving into a brand new place.  These huge high riseses called C0-op City in the Bronx.  Everything was new in that place.  There were no antiques, no subway near by, no Van Gogh prints hung all over the living room walls.  This was the beginning of the end for his life. 

I can see now that it was also the last of some things for me as well.  After his death to say that my mother's life spiraled out of control is putting it mildly.  Within three years of his death I was gone from her home permanently.   Never to return.

I wish I could remember more now about my time with him.  I remember his strength, his protection, that I didn't have to take care or watch out for him and that I could relax with him.  I remember that he did things in a certain way and that too gave me comfort.  I do remember that he never acted in a way that didn't put me first or into consideration most.

The other adults in my life were so centered on themselves but not my grandfather.  Whatever he had seen in his life was not visited upon me either in story or in manner and for that I am so thankful.  Instead he allowed me to be with him.  I have always been a talker and he must have let me babble on for I don't remember him ever making me be quiet. 

I imagine having my mother as a daughter must have been some experience for him.  I think he probably financed our moves from place to place.  I think as long as she had me she knew she had a manipulative card to throw into the mix.  I respect how he moved from Poland and not only came to America but learned the language and the ways of the land.  I respect how he tried to protect me from the past.  Maybe the ticking of all those clocks kept him mindful of how our choices are moving us along no matter what. 

Dream a little dream of the World

Fifty years ago Rod Serling had a little show called the Twilight Zone.  In a time when the censors still had jobs to protect the public he veiled social, economic, and religious commentary under the guise of science fiction.  What those shows were really showing us was our selves.  All of our darkness, all of our worst inclinations, all of our fears played out in a short scenario that made me think.

"There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition. "

He made a career out of posing the question,  "What if?".  I bring you to that superb show to bring up  a few points.  The World isn't ending, the sky isn't falling, the greatest Depression ever known to mankind isn't about to happen.  What is going on are huge wake up calls.  Invitations if you will for human beings to engage and fix what is wrong right in front of them. 

All the doomsayers that want me to believe that the End is near aren't truly paying attention and funny, they don't have children.  Why are those two things importnat?  Because we as a species are capable of heinous acts and love so deep that it stuns me.  What is actually happening is an invitation to make the World work.  That doesn't involve a profit and loss sheet, a thick bank account, or an imported car. 

We are being invited to indulge in the age old dance of Bliss.  We have feasted on the empty calories of profiteers, the poor substitute for intimacy veiled in pornography, the isolation from the Earth itself by only encountering food already packaged.  Consumers have to cut back, the headlines scream, but they don't have to cut back on love, or sharing, or kindness.  See the pendulum swings both ways.  The post apocalyptic world doesn't ever have to come to pass.  We don't need that big of a time out. 

I am sick of hearing that people don't know what to do in these times of crisis.  Not sure where to find a miracle?  Think about indoor plumbing, of a perfect latte', of the sound of children laughing.  None of these things have to stand alone without common sense.  Sinse when did They get to rule the world?  Conspiracy theories make for a wonderful plot and yes I can see shadows beneath the greasy veneer of the heads of states.

What do I then say to my children?  Hey don't bother to dream or fix anything cause the Banks don't care.  Don't bother to worry about falling in love because you'll never be able to afford a house or the power to turn on the lights?  Don't bother to get a job for you'll only spend your life making profits for the Corporations?  Hey while you're at it, just give up living right this second.  For all THOSE experts out there really have insight into the mysteries of people, places and things. 

Give me a fucking break.  Human beings are dense but also fragile in their ability to be touched.  I vote that we create things that can continue to inspire and stir the human spirit.  That we as a species understand that we're all in class all the time....that everything that comes before YOU is an invitation to make it better, deeper, wiser.

I want my children to know that while the experts are debating on our future and laying out theories of negligence that some of us are still questing for the truth within us.....that is not in a bottle, not in a pamphlet, not from a burning bush.  What if you wake up tomorrow and you still have to exist and the World is still there?  Shine it up people and dream!