divination bordello

 

On Saturday, I had a benefit at my house for the restorative retreat, A Fool’s Journey, that I’m part of putting on at fall equinox.  We raised seed money and 

 money by turning my house into a Divination Bordello.  As it turns out, my house LOVES being a Divination Bordello!  Every room and cranny comfortably held a couple of people intensely engaged in opening up to the divine. I could almost hear the house purring.

 

Our customers trooped up the long front stairs and were offered choices; tarot, dreamwork, aura reading, psychic consultation, reiki,  and prophecy board.  Julian, a talented twelve year old, offered readings from a deck of cards he had made himself.  Between reading for others, I got a reading from him, pulling three cards – Phoenix, lake, and mist – which assured me that I could rise from some challenges I have at the moment if I stay calm, look deep, and stop trying to see into the future.

 

It was a glorious spring day, with fresh air gently blowing in from the bay, and I was happy to read for others on my  deck, surrounded by lemon trees and countless containers of new seedlings waiting to be put into the garden.  The garden too held readers, and my attic art studio as well.

 

It was a perfect day for the flat downstairs to receive its new tenant, and he wandered up and down the stairs, a little disoriented by the beauty of the day and house’s ebullience.  He picked my friend Robin, who has a deep affinity for mermaids, to do a tarot reading for him.  We knew the house had chosen the right tenant when she came away illuminated by stories he had told her regarding how mermaids figure into South American mythology.

 

The house found Gregor through our network of friends, as he came to a party downstairs several months ago. He’s a young British environmentalist who has been living in the Amazon for the last seven years. He’ll be traveling back throughout the year, but for now, he’s ensconced in exotic San Francisco.  His open countenance, and the fact that he literally came with just a few bags of stuff,  made him the Wise Fool of the day, stepping off the beaten path onto a whole new journey.

 

At the end of the day, we readers  contently collapsed in the living room, ordered Chinese food, and drank some good red wine.  We sprawled around the good upholstery, telling new stories and old. 

 

I’m thinking I truly am done with spiritual intensives.  Spiritual restoratives, like the Fool’s Journey, are rich enough for my tastes. As someone said during the day,  “let’s get restored, not floored.”

 

I am for it, and love that here in the beauty of spring, I can imagine us all in the fall, under the grape arbor, eating figs, lounging by the pool, opening our foolish hearts to the what the Magician has to teach us.