February: Aquarius
Original Aquarius watercolor by Read Gallo will be featured on this month’s FREE bookmark giveaway. Winners will be drawn from the subscriber list and notified by email on 03/01/2022.
Dharma Direction’s second issue dives into the world of the water bearer, Aquarius. Are you ready to Go With The Flow?
Aquarius: the water bearer
January 21 - February 19
New Dimension.
Angels: “In The Age”
Personal Essay by Debbie Abbott
“When the moon is in the Seventh house …”
Those words began the song “Age of Aquarius” and when I saw The 5th Dimension sing it on a televised variety show in 1969—I felt changed. I was only five years old, but the surreal sounds of the singers’ harmonies magnified the prophecy they sang about.
The vibration of their voices resonated within my old soul.
I can remember hoping that I’d still be alive when the real Age of Aquarius came to shift humanity’s perspective to one rooted in love, harmony, and understanding.
Well, here we are. Half a century later. I made it!
Will peace guide the planets? Can love steer the stars?
Some astrologers say The Age began in 2012.
Others argue that it hasn’t arrived yet.
The fact is, back on 12/21/2020, the planets of Jupiter and Saturn met in the Aquarius constellation. An event called the great conjunction, you may have heard it referred to as the “Christmas Star.” This hasn’t happened in 800 years!
So what? You say. Well … these two planets and their corresponding energies are complete opposites of one another.
Jupiter brings growth, expansion, and generosity.
Saturn demands discipline, structure, and hard work.
The combination of those energies is destined to bring about a much-needed change in human dynamics. Thankfully, the entire Age of Aquarius will last about 2,160 years. Long after we have left this earth, the cosmos and our kin will still be working for the greater good of our species.
The stars have literally aligned to provide a pathway toward progressive thoughts and societal shifts. And, attempting to right historical wrongs is very Aquarian. Just look at the notable figures in American history who were born under the water bearer sign …
Can you even imagine where we’d be today without the heart and hope of these fearless humans? An Aquarius thrives under its symbol of service, pouring out the necessary life force elements from their fountain of faith.
More than mere religious faith, theirs is faith in the goodness of mankind.
Faith that is meant to lead the way toward compassion for all.
Let the sunshine on in …
I believe people such as these historic figures are Earth Angels. Volunteer souls who signed up for their monumental missions long before they were ever born.
Angels, in their true form, are pure light aspects of the One source—whatever or whoever you believe that Source to be. My Native American ancestors, the Wintu tribe of Northern California, believe the Sun is the Source.
As modern science has shown us, we now know that all matter is made of light … compressed so densely it can live as a sentient being or exist as an inanimate object.
We humans are made of light—like the angels. Which means, we are all capable of love and compassion for everyone.
During the zodiac month of Aquarius, Archangel Cambiel’s energy will be appealing to our inner humanitarian. He encourages us to seek understanding of our paradox …
How small we are and how great we can be.
The ideals of Justice, Liberty, and Equality can be found if you … “Open up your heart and let the sunshine on in.”
Debbie Abbott is a former managing editor for an upscale food and lifestyle print magazine in Scottsdale, Arizona. She now spends as much time as possible working on her debut novel and sharing accounts of her life through her website and as editor and publisher of Dharma Direction.
Connect with Debbie on Facebook, through Debbie's Twitter page or visit Debbie on Instagram.
Audio Visual Art: Archangel Cambiel
From digital artist Peter Mohrbacher comes a 3-minute fast-forward visual adventure into the computer creation of the Aquarius angel. Find the artist, and more of his work at Angelarium.net.
Free spirit.
Humor: “Ashley … The All Time Awesomest”
Personal Essay by Colleen Markley
You can tell a lot about a person when you go on a road trip together. Especially when that someone is an Aquarius. Not just any Aquarius, but the Most Awesome Aquarius of All Time, Ashley Elizabeth Tennent Gilreath.
I’d only known Ashley for a few months when she invited me to spend our junior year Spring break together.
We’d met on campus at Boston University before classes started during our Resident Assistant training. Neither of us had much money, so the free room and board in exchange for keeping order among our fellow undergrads was a boon for both of us. The RA training bootcamp was several long days and covered everything from roommate conflicts to identifying mental health crises. We were 20, mature and responsible, and took it all seriously.
But we both had the same excitement and joy when the training included breaks and snacks, and it was over a frozen treat that we initially bonded.
A league of our own
I was shy, anxious, and nervous about meeting new people. I thought Ashley was out of my league for friends. She was blonde, adorably perky, and energetic. She was a sorority sister and had been a cheerleader in high school in North Carolina. I tended to generally roll my eyes at the entirety of the Greek system.
When I was in high school in New Jersey I’d been known to hang out under the bleachers during football games (making fun of football, marching bands, and the cheerleaders with equal measure). A dark and moody soul, I wrote poetry and generally sneered at happy people.
Ashley walked into a room and lit it up with her energy and humor. The day Ashley and I became friends was when I had lit up and shone: for ice cream.
We were on opposite sides of a circle of humans, sitting cross-legged on the ground of the study lounge on the top floor of our dorm. The view of the Charles River sparkled in the late summer light. We’d been up since 7 a.m. attending workshops and lectures, and at 4 p.m. we still had hours to go until we’d finish at 11:00 that night. All before doing it again the next day. And that’s when our director walked in with my all-time favorite dessert: chipwiches.
I was never the kid who could afford ice cream from the truck when it rolled through the neighborhood, playing its siren call of tinkling treat tunes. Sometimes I’d have an extra quarter and could get a lollipop, but the $1.25 for a chipwich was out of my league. When I managed to get my hands on one because a friend’s mom was treating me, I savored every bite. On this particular day, I didn’t tell anyone about how little money we had growing up, but I did explain to everyone in the room how special this chipwich was.
There is no more perfect dessert than two chocolate chip cookies sandwiching vanilla ice cream, and then rolled in more chocolate chips. It is utter perfection. I instructed everyone on the perfect methodology of eating the chipwich properly.
First, lick the chips off the outside, beginning in one spot and circling the treat until all the chips are safely consumed.
Then, nibble the soft crumbling edges of cookie. Repeat by licking off more ice cream, letting the cookie supports hang over the remaining dairy delight.
Repeat, over and over again, until you are left with the center piece, a mini chipwich, to be savored in one last remaining perfect morsel.
I hadn’t spoken more than a word or two all day, but here I explained every detail of each bite. My enthusiasm was contagious. All but one of our co-RAs followed my demonstration. Many agreed it was the best way to eat a chipwich and I approved of those humans as friends.
But there is always one person who doesn’t listen. I would find out later that he came from so much money, that not only did he not need the RA job and was only doing it as a resume builder, but he also was so rich that he had staff running his home. His parents had bribed him to take the job by offering him a car. I didn’t know that then—all I knew in the moment was that he thought I was silly. He scoffed, shook his head, and ate his chipwich in three bites while talking about something other than the magic of a chipwich.
“Monster,” I admonished.
Ashley burst out laughing. And then she announced to the entire room that she loved my snark almost as much as she loved my mindfulness and attention to dessert, and that she and I were destined to be best friends forever. I felt honored that she’d even noticed me. I wish I’d appreciated her more over the next seventeen years, before the bullshit ending that became the headline of Ashley’s life story.
I struggled deciding whether I should write about Ashley, whether I’d be able to put aside the sadness and grief to still be funny. This is supposed to be a humor column, after all. Ashley was one of the most fun-loving humans I’ve ever met, but when I think of her now, I think of her crappy ending. I’m a writer, and her final act sucked.
I would give anything to rewrite it, just like my kids love the website HISHE for when they’re disappointed in movies or books and their endings—“How It Should Have Ended.”
Tragedy plus time is supposed to equal humor, or so I am told as I study the craft of comedy. I told my sister I was struggling, and she asked me why I was trying to write humor in a place with so much tragedy.
“Well,” I explained, “Ashley came to me in a dream. She told me that the real damn tragedy is that I haven’t written about her yet, because she was awesome and deserves a starring role, everywhere.”
“Well,” my sister laughed. “That’s exactly what Ashley would’ve said. Why are you listening to her? Maybe that’s just a bad idea.”
I sighed. “Ashley would tell me she never had any bad ideas and I really need to listen to her. I can hear her now even after all this time: ‘I am obviously the most amazing Aquarius you’ve ever known so just stop fighting it and write about me already. Writing about me can only be good for your career and the world.’”
The dream version of my friend reminds me that her ending is not the entirety of her life. That is, after all, the role of the water bearer, the symbol of Aquarius.
Pouring out from the vessel of life.
Washing away the past.
Spiritually feeding the world and giving space for a new start.
Ashley was, and is, eternally present. She had the energy of a drama queen, stealing the spotlight of every room she entered. Ashley could argue middle eastern politics and the missteps of hundreds of years of governments run by men making poor decisions, and then in the next breath tell you how the Spice Girls were a metaphor for all that was good and sensible in the world. She’d tell anyone who would listen that the fact that she couldn’t carry a tune was a travesty, as she would be the most amazing rock star in the entire world. I know that to be true.
Free-Spirits free spirits
Ashley had an energy that forced you to appreciate her free spirit, and I always felt that my spirit could be more free just by being around her.
And I know Ashley’s urging toward writing about her is correct. That is truly what an Aquarius would say. They see the world in terms of right and wrong and believe that each individual action is keyed into the balance of the universe.
An Aquarius has a great sense of justice, and Ashley was true to her star sign.
Ashley was always my biggest fan. Back in college I was a television and film major, spending a lot of time writing scripts and short stories. Ashley was a political science major; she’d later graduate from law school.
She had so much required reading for school, yet she used to ask me over and over again when she could read what I was working on for class. Then when she was done reading it, she would walk around our dorm, cruising the hallways and knocking on doors to find a crowd so she could read out loud the parts she really loved.
Whenever I’m uncertain about whether to send something out into the world for submission, I hear her. Sometimes it’s a whisper in my ear, or an echo of a compliment that sounds like her natural cheerleader sorority girl self. Sometimes my biggest cheerleader visits my dreams and tells me, “I am seriously going to kick your ass!” I miss her voice so much that even hearing her southern lilt yelling in ethereal frustration feels wonderful.
After the chipwiches, Ashley and I were inseparable. I was thrilled when she suggested we spend our Spring break together. Our trip was far from the Cancun getaway—or anywhere warm—like some of our friends took. The ones who were actually able to pay their tuition.
Ashley and I were both on various grants and scholarships, and the resident assistant job meant we didn’t need to max out our loans for our last two years of school. We were heading to her hometown of Asheville, North Carolina, to spend a few days there before heading out for the most ultimate road trip ever.
The plan was to drive west from Asheville, through Tennessee and Arkansas, then south and east through Mississippi and Alabama, before turning north again through Georgia and South Carolina. Ten days and almost twelve hundred miles. We wanted to check off as many states as we could.
We loaded the car with Ashley’s entire music collection, and even though her Nissan was old, it did have a cassette player—state of the art for 1996. I was more into alternative and punk tunes, but she was head DJ.
She was determined to educate me on “proper” music.
So she brought along every Eagles album ever created. We were right outside of Memphis when I shared my music theory.
“Ashley, have you noticed that the Eagles say ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ a lot in their backup harmonies?” She laughed. We listened to a few more songs and sang ooh and ahh together.
“There’s only one song that doesn’t have ooh and ahh,” I told her.
“What? How long have you been listening for this?” she demanded.
“Since Knoxville,” I admitted. “I was waiting to see if the theory held.”
“You’ve been thinking about this for the last five hours and didn’t tell me? Which song doesn’t ooh or ahh?”
I was worried that I might have upset her. Traveling with someone for the first time felt like we might be prone to argument, and I was worried she might be annoyed with me. I’d seen Ashley when she was mad—it was rare, but fiery. I didn’t ever want to be on the receiving end of that, but damn if I didn’t feel like a million bucks when she was acting as my great protector.
Ashley was a fierce friend. If you were wronged by someone, that person was her enemy, and she would find them and flail them until they were nothing but pieces left upon the ground. To this day, when I ask my husband (who was also my long-distance boyfriend through college) about his memories of Ashley, he gets a frightened look.
Brian my husband loved Ashley because she loved me, but Ashley had no qualms telling people what she thought of them, including him. There were times when he and I would fight, and he’d stop midway through—he knew that if I told Ashley what he’d just said to me that she would be furious with him and take my side. And tell him so.
Ashley wasn’t mad about my Eagles discovery. She was intensely interested. So intensely interested that she insisted we play the entire collection of the Eagles again and listen to every song to test my theory of the oohs and ahhs.
In the end, my theory held fast.
It was one of the highlights of the trip that she told everyone when we returned to Boston. “Colleen is so smart. You will never believe what she figured out about the Eagles …”
And she told everyone we knew that I was a genius. I wasn’t. But she made me feel like I was.
I read this again now and I think, “No, it’s not funny enough. Nothing I write about Ashley will ever do her justice.”
And then I hear her, in my ear, laughing.
“Duh,” she tells me. “Of course not. Because I am that awesome. You’ll never be able to capture all of me in one essay. You didn’t tell them about when we had to thaw out the car tires with the hair dryer because it was so cold they froze to the ground. Or how you rode my clutch the whole way home and we had to get rescued by that hooligan who brought his girlfriend in his wrecker, and she sat on his lap while he drove us home and dumped my Nissan in our yard.”
I’d caused thousands of dollars of damage to her transmission. And the front lawn. Ashley was so gracious and kind and even though I offered to pay for the repairs, she wouldn’t hear of it. Aquarians don’t get angry easily and like to assure their friends everything is okay.
Everything happens for a reason. It is what it is.
I hear Ashley continue, “And you didn’t tell them about the time we were in the tornado warning in Mississippi, and you asked me what we should do as if there were a way to stay safe.”
“I remember,” I smile as I talk back to her. “I asked you if I should pull the car over and hide in the ditch.”
“Yes!” Ashley cackles at me. “And I told you that was a great idea, and that you should be sure to bend over, put your head between your legs, and kiss your ass goodbye.”
That hadn’t been the answer I thought she would give as we listened to the emergency warning on the radio in between cassette changes. She put another album on to replace the blaring tones of urgency.
“You better start writing the book,” Ashley tells me. “A whole television series. And a franchise of movies and even an amusement park—All About Ashley.”
And I know this to be true. I am grateful that I have a friend so fierce and beautiful that even after she’s been gone for nine years, she still makes me cry. And laugh. I know she’d want me to do more laughing … and less crying.
I finish writing this on her birthday, January 27th.
I wrap myself in her Aquarius vibes.
She would want me to improve not only my own life, but the whole world. Who are we on this planet if we aren’t helping to make it better?
Aquarius wants us to focus on progress, change for good. Ashley would tell me what a waste it is for me to stay stuck in the past or to let the sad overwhelm the happy.
She’d remind me to fix and repair what I can, and ignore the rest. It is what it is.
Time to enjoy the journey.
“There,” Ashley says. “That’s better. You’ve got work to do.”
HISHE: How It Should Have Ended
Ashley and I visit each other each year, taking girls trips sometimes and family trips sometimes and then when the kids go to college, we do couples trips too. She wins the lottery and is the best rich person to ever exist.
She doesn’t want the fanciest of everything, just the nice car with the remote start and the trunk you can open on a little button. She won’t buy the kind where you wave your foot under the back of the car because she knows she will clobber herself or someone else that way.
She still gives great advice to all her friends.
On her fiftieth birthday, we decide to have a huge party at the Grove Park Inn where she got married, and we rent all the rooms and we drive around in little golf carts and have silly games like golf cart polo. She has a special soundtrack that she’s created that includes the Beastie Boys and the Spice Girls and she sees no irony in playing one after the other.
Ashley decides to be the judge instead of playing the game because she almost falls out of her cart so many times, and it’s then that we try to convince her to run for a judge position in an upcoming election. She knows her legal training and innate sense of justice and fairness would make her ideal, but she also believes that elections for judges are terrible and the first thing she does is draft and pass legislation that judges can only be appointed with a bi partisan committee, and they always have term limits, which improves the justice system for everyone.
She celebrates by joining the Spice Girls for their world reunion tour, and on stage she has the best shoes, and the best hair, and everyone loves her and shouts her name.
And I tell Ashley about my plan for me and Brian, how we will hold hands and die at the age of 101 on our porch swing. And she tells me that she thinks that’s a great idea, and she will bring the music and chipwiches, and she’ll be right there making sure Brian does what he’s supposed to.
And I know she will play the one song the Eagles ever sang that doesn’t have any “oohs” or “ahhs.”
Maybe I should tell you what that song is.
But, maybe Ashley would tell you that knowing that is the reward you earn for the time spent with a friend, traveling hundreds of miles in life, listening to music, and celebrating each other.
After all, that’s what friends do.
Especially the most Awesome Aquarius of All Time, Ashley.
Colleen Markley is a novelist and freelance writer living in New Jersey. Her award-winning essay “Unflappably Calm, Occasionally Furious, Ready and Willing to Hide the Bodies” was recently published in Sisters! Bonded by Love and Laughter. Named the June 2021 winner of the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop Humor Writer of the Month, Colleen attempts to be funny all of the months, and is excited that Dharma Direction is setting that challenge bar. Her novel-in-progress, Lilith Land, is a story about the end of the world where only the women survive. (It’s a novel, not an action plan).
Connect with Colleen on Facebook, and through Colleen's Twitter page. Visit Colleen on Instagram or check out her website at colleenmarkley.com and sign up here for her newsletter and updates.
Track like a techie.
Culinary Wellness: “Tracking Your Intake”
Article by Chef Candy Lesher
There's one definitive aspect of February's Aquarius water bearer—to bear water you have to pay attention. Have you ever tried to haul water without first making sure the container doesn't leak?
Same theory for creating a healthy lifestyle; if you don't pay attention, you won't be able to find your nutritional “leaks” and all those sacrificial food efforts will get you nowhere.
You can’t fix what you don’t know is broken.
Thankfully, technology can actually be a blessing, especially when it comes to discovering what I refer to as “eating habit leaks.”
Enter the free Cronometer.com phone app. This food tracking system makes it far less painful to track and discern just where those pitfalls are that hold up weight loss or hinder healthful goals.
Cronometer tracks both macros (calories, carbs, protein, sugars, sodium, etc.) and micronutrients (are you getting enough potassium, calcium, magnesium, etc.), so you get a daily picture of where you are and how you got there.
With a few taps—you can begin seeing the full scope of your intake.
For some, it might be shocking how those innocent-looking nibbles pushed them over the calorie/carb limit each day, derailing a whole week of weight loss. For others, they may discover their sluggish system is exacerbated by a consistent micronutrient deficiency, even though they thought they were eating quite healthy.
Whatever the goal, Cronometer can help you hone in on those small variables that often allude our memory, if you're willing to diligently record your intake as you go throughout the day. Why do I say that?
How many times have you been asked what you had for breakfast and drew a blank?
That's why recording as you go and learning how to navigate it efficiently is essential.
Here are a few tips that can really make it fast:
Take an hour or two and input your more common foods. For example, I have a homemade paleo bar that I input the recipe and portion count into Cronometer (under Recipes) and now all I do is tap the + (add food) and type in the name of my paleo bar. And breakfast tracking is done.
When inputting any recipe or food you will use a lot, begin it with your initials plus the name of the item (for me the bars are under: CL Paleo Bar), and Cronometer brings it right up.
In fact, when you go to add any food, start by typing your initials, and everything you have previously logged with your initials will come up first. This saves SO much time! I have a regular tuna salad I put on rye seed crackers that I enjoy for lunch a few times a week. It’s listed under CL Tuna Crackers. Just tap and it's logged.
Breaking it down …
Once you begin to customize the app to your preferences, tracking your foods becomes very fast and not nearly as daunting as it could be. I've done the old-fashioned “journaling” of my food; what a pain. And it never gave me any nutritional breakdowns to tell me just how far off—or how spot on—I really was for each day.
Once you begin to see your success and can track what is and isn't working, you are then able to make those little tweaks that bring the healthful success you've always hoped to achieve. And the best part is, you are the one managing and monitoring the rate at which you reach that goal.
And the benefits don’t stop there. Cronometer will sync with Fitbit and other fitness tracking watches so you can get an even fuller picture of your journey toward better health. When you know you've got a major event to go to where food choices will not be the greatest … you'll be more inclined to go for a brisk walk or engage in activity beforehand to offset it.
Goals and Rewards
Because a reward can be a great way to spur ourselves on, I do like to encourage clients to set a reasonable goal. And when they've reached it for a full two-week period, to reward themselves with something special. Perhaps a long-put-off outing or visit to a friend. Or even something as simple as a luxurious and welcome nap.
The only time I recommend making food a reward is when it is an element for a healthy meal. Let’s say you love salmon but you don't normally indulge; well, that's an element for a healthy meal so reward yourself with the best piece you can afford. Or splurge on those exotic spices you had put off purchasing that will take your meal preparation to another level.
Lastly, once you commit to charting your intake … Don't cheat! The old saying “you only cheat yourself” may be cliché, but it's totally true. Cheating on tracking your intake is what I call a self-created leak. Record the truth and you will find Cronometer provides you the nutritional insight that can take you to a whole new level of health.
As a Culinary Wellness Coach, Candy Lesher doesn't simply sit on the sidelines and coach, she's right in the game with her clients. As a chef she openly admits weight is an occupational health hazard, so she engages in that daily battle also. As a Stage III cancer survivor, she knows the importance of feeding your body the nutrients it needs to fight off illness—and function at its very best.
Connect with Candy on LinkedIn.
Magic moments.
Original Aquarius watercolor by Read Gallo
Romance: “Thy Cup Overfloweth”
Fantasy Fiction by L.J. Longo
So, I’m at work, forced to operate in this trite way because society demands the confinement of my free spirit.
I am the literal embodiment of Aquarian energy.
My official role is to meditate on the system and the ways I can dismantle it and unleash the full potential of the human race. Unironically, I am the change I wish to see in the world.
But since I am a trained espresso artist—a technician of live-giving java—I also pour coffee. The magic starts with me.
But I’d rather be reading Marx on my phone, FYI.
Anyhoo, these two women come in. Very cute. One is all Italian blue suit with a soft white scarf and a messy braided bun. The other is a military lesbian. I don’t mean, like militant lesbian, that’s not the word choice I went with and I just wanted to draw attention to that. I respect our men and women in uniform and she is one of them. Not that she’s in her uniform—she’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, partially tucked in, very casual chic and she is working it. But she used to be in the Navy. Now she has green hair spiked up, kinda like she flash-froze a lawn and put it on her head. So cool. I’d totally tap that. Not that I’m lesbian, that’s just how cool she was.
So, she holds open the door for Blue-suit.
Blue-suit flutters her eyelashes, “My treat. What do you want?”
Green-hair blushes. Which totally clashes with her aviators.
What she wants is a cold brew with vanilla cream and a splash of raspberry syrup … or to kiss this woman. Instead, she goes full manly hipster. “Oh, I take it black.”
Blue-suit smiles. “You sure? They do really cute latte art.”
As if. I create masterpieces in foam. She’s doing me a disservice. She wants a caramel macchiato with extra caramel.
“I’ll have a caramel macchiato,” Blue-suit says then stops and won’t ask for what she wants. “Light.”
Boring.
I write her name on the cup. Damned chains making it so we all had to be so patently obvious about things. “And…” I look at Green-hair who is looking anywhere but at Blue-suit. “You said cold brew with vanilla, right?”
Blue-suit gives me a look like What? because her future-wife clearly asked for black coffee.
“Yeah,” Green-hair nods. “That … that’s what I want.”
“Sweetened with …” I suggest.
“Huh?”
“Raspberry, mint—"
“Oh. Raspberry,” she chooses.
“Yes, I’ll have that right out for you.”
What you really, really, want
They sit next to a window. They wanted to be in the window looking out at the street, but they’re also trying to let the other have her way. So accommodating that no one ever gets what they want.
They start talking about the sexy, mysterious barista and her otherworldly charm. And also, about work, which is mind-numbing for both of them.
I meditate on the stifling repression of human desire.
Not just sexual. Things like coffee orders and seat placement. So many people never ask for what they want. Choosing instead to flicker around the edges of desire. Is it childhood trauma? The cost of living in a civilized society? Maybe no one knows what they want. Like people who eat cake when really, they’re just thirsty.
I bring their coffee.
Green-hair asks, “Miss, um, do you serve water?”
Who doesn’t? I wish we didn’t serve water, then this store would be, I don’t know, more unique. “Yup. There’s a pitcher so you can refill. I’ll get you a cup.”
Green-hair stands up and goes with me and when we’re out of earshot of Blue-suit, who very cleverly takes this opportunity to apply some more tinted lip gloss and look dreamily out the window. She’s yearning, no doubt, for the perfectly framed seat where she would be even more attractively silhouetted against the backdrop of the city.
“So, um … do you think I’m on a date?” Green-hair whispers to me, “I can’t tell if this is friends from work meeting up or …”
She drifts off hoping I will fill in the gaps of her life.
Excuse me. I’m a total stranger. But this?
This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
“Um … if you don’t know, I don’t know. You know? That being said, it definitely feels like or to me.”
She beams like sunshine through the green borealis of her hair. “Awesome, whoo.”
“But, like, maybe you should, you know, ask her.”
Green-hair has zero filter and the raw panic on her face is frankly adorable. She takes the cup from my hand and pours the water for herself.
All the signs …
I go back to my very busy day. I post online about my dating/not dating customers and poll my followers about whether I should intervene. The ethics of barista interference are complicated.
Then I read an article about the dangers of positive thinking and research my newest obsession—making paint out of sea-shells so I can create totally original colors and not rely on the same store-bought shades as everyone else on Insta.
Every once in a while, Green-hair catches my eye and flashes me a thumbs up and a goofy grin. She is not subtle. Blue-suit keeps leaning closer, curling hair between her fingers, laughing, and smiling. She’s totally in love and showing all the signs. But also, like, definitely not talking about how she’s in love or saying it in any way that will inform Green-hair … who is genuinely the most oblivious person I have ever met.
So, they lapse into awkward pauses, and they fill the café with a palpable longing that I can feel behind the espresso machine.
All my followers agree, this is true love and I need to do something to help.
But that’s, like, so not my bag. That’s very individual world-betterment which is what the coffee is for. I want global betterment. I need to focus my time and considerable power on world-wide systems and not this micro-intervention crap.
Still, their pining is, like, super distracting. Also, I’m, like, way invested. I can’t focus at all on putting my intention into the universe or even basic stuff, like the philosophy of revolution. I just keep thinking about the two women who are literally missing their connection eight feet from me.
So, when Green-hair gets up to go to the bathroom, I go over with a plate of cookies, that will probably not get sold. I might be stealing. I don’t care. This place is a fascist theft of my freedom and time. Yet, so generic as to be meaningless.
So, I give Blue-suit the cookies. “Here. I’d have to throw these out, so if you guys want them …”
Honesty and Envy
Blue-suit glares at me. Because she’s on a diet—which she does not need—and I gave her extra caramel when she didn’t ask for it. She hates me with a raw lusting envy because I have the courage to honestly talk to her future-wife and she doesn’t.
“Thanks! That’s so nice of you.”
OMG, she’s so friendly, she legit wants to murder me.
Or at the very least drop-kick me back behind the counter. I lean over her, showing off my cleavage and tats. “So, your friend … is she, like, single? Does she dig chicks?”
Blue-suit’s eyes narrow and her nostrils flare. Then she says politely and with almost no murderous intent, “Um, yeah, so we’re on a date. Right now. And I’d really appreciate it if you would stop flirting with her.”
“Super excited to hear that.” The toilet flushes. “Because your date totally does not know that you are on a date and she really needs to know. She asked me to clarify for her and I didn’t know how to do it gracefully, so … yeah, enjoy that. Oh, and the cookies!”
I have never seen a woman go from stone-cold fury to butter-melting joy so quickly. It is very enriching.
Green-hair notices when she comes back to the table. But of course, totally misunderstands. “Oh awesome! Cookies!”
Blue-suit suppresses her feelings immediately.
I am not having that. “Yeah, they’re to celebrate, because you two are totally on a first date, vibing like nobodies business, and all my followers are totally rooting for you. So … name your future fur-babies Caramel and Vanilla for me, and, um, don’t screw it up, okay?”
Blue-suit turns a totally original shade of hopeful and embarrassment red.
Green-hair gives me a double-thumbs up and grins so much her face must’ve hurt. “Awesome! Will do.”
No chill at all.
It’s kinda nice though.
Anyways, that’s how I basically invented micro-intervention and you should all give it a chance. Or don’t. Whatever. It’s your life. Just live it.
L.J. Longo is an award-winning Romance author, a queer geek and feminist writing a medley of dark romance (which can be found through Evernight Publishing), magical realism, weird sci-fi/fantasy, and very implausible creative non-fiction.
Connect to L.J. on Facebook and on L.J.'s Twitter page.
Poet-Tree: “Love Is”
Original poem by Debbie Abbott
Playlist: Aquarius
Once upon a time, MTV was my go-to for music, to listen to (and to watch) while I was doing everything from cleaning the kitchen to curling my hair. I was also one of those people who was constantly making mix tapes (then CDs) and giving them to my friends and family … always with the intent of sharing my love of musical messages. And with the hope that they, too, would feel the love that lies within the words and melodies of my favorite songs. To fill the void of MTV’s tumble into something far-removed from music, I created The Muse-Sick channel on YouTube. ~ DA
Please enjoy Dharma Direction’s playlist for February, curated by our contributors to celebrate all things Aquarius. This month’s songs are listed below. Keep in mind that the playlist on YouTube changes each month to focus on the current zodiac.
“Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In” — The 5th Dimension
“Best News Ever” — MercyMe
“Born This Way” — Lady Gaga
“Sweet Dreams” — Beyoncé
“Adore You” — Harry Styles
“Wannabe” — Spice Girls
“No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature” — The Guess Who
“Holy Water” — We The Kingdom
“The River of Dreams” — Billy Joel
“In The River” — Jesus Culture ft. Kim Walker-Smith
“Adore You” (extended version) — Harry Styles
Color Therapy: Aquarius
FREE Downloadable/Printable — just get your crayons, pencils, pastels, or paints and right-click the image below.
