March: Pisces
Original Pisces 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 04/01/2022.
Dharma Direction’s third issue explores the watery world of Pisces. Are you ready to Go With The Flow?
Pisces: two fish
February 20 - March 20
Mother Nature is here to nurture.
Angels: “Air and Water”
Personal Essay by Debbie Abbott / Read time: 8 minutes
Water and I have an intense relationship, rooted deep into my ancestry. Before I ever knew about the hydrogen/oxygen connection of the Wintu tribe I descend from …
The feeling of being one with the water has long been a part of who I am.
I won’t live in a house without a bathtub, for this is where I find respite when the drudgery of the day tear me asunder—like it does to all of us, eventually.
Empty Breathing
As a kid, I assumed that it was the sensation of buoyancy that brought me such comfort and now, as an adult, I know that the weightlessness of being submerged is indeed beneficial to a battered body, and mind.
Whether swirling upside down beneath the surface of my own swimming pool in Arizona, or slithering along like an eel in the ocean of the Bahamas as I trail after stingrays and sharks …
I often imagine being able to breathe under water.
I practice inflating my lungs without intaking any air through my mouth or nose. Rather, I envision an air supply stored within my own muscle tissue that, upon concentration and visualization, can be squeezed and directed into my lungs, ironically, by relaxing my back and chest.
In doing so, I feel the bellows riding my twisted spine stretch out like legs that have been scrunched in the fetal position for too long. And I can remain under water, a little longer. Relaxed and empty.
Under the Influence
Barchiel is the angel assigned to oversee the Pisces season. Known as the Angel of Blessings, he is the leader of the guardian angels. His energy comes with a good dose of good humor and a positive outlook. Archangel Gabriel also factors in whenever a water sign springs up. As ruler of the moon, which turns the tides, Gabriel’s energy abounds when Pisces is present.
In retrospect, I am humbled to have been chosen to play the messenger angel in my fifth-grade Christmas play back in 1974. I was too young at the time to see the significance of this role.
After seeing a real angel on the street-corner in 2003, I was compelled to explore the enormity of angelic influence on my life as I’d known it. My journalist instincts stoked some long-buried embers of ethereal deliverance, soon igniting fires that served to illuminate the path of dharma before me.
You can’t un-see an angel.
Once they reveal themselves to you … granting you with a promise of greater goodness … life’s essence transforms before your eyes. I can’t speak for everyone who has been given this gift, but the angels have continued to make their presence known to me since that day.
The muse-angels flit in and out of the creative side of my brain continuously pointing out necessary inspiration or information. Fully formed thoughts pop-up like so many internet ads all aimed like a well-crafted algorithm of content at the heart of my passion—a tactic designed so it can’t be ignored. I fear constantly that I’m going to miss something of vital, worldly importance. Then the angels remind me of their boundless fount with yet more ideas, more connections, more serendipity, and more affirmations of my willingness to remain open to their guidance.
Every Last Drop
One thing the angels know we could all use more of is living water. The term has taken on various connotations but to the ethereal beings who exist to share their wisdom and love with us (the keepers of Mother Earth), living water is a human requirement.
On a molecular level, living water contains angelic knowledge.
Like tiny packages of programming updates for our dense brains, water from the source—above or below the earth—contains vital light components that humans require for the reverent evolution of mankind.
Sadly, fewer and fewer humans fill their bodies with living water. Instead, they soak their precious vessels—inside and out—in dead water. I’m not just referring to sodas, teas, coffee, vitamin waters, and energy drinks; I’m also talking about bottled water that is little more than repackaged tap water.
Dead water is void of ethereal, life-force infusion.
If the water you drink on a daily basis isn’t bottled at the source, then it isn’t living water. This includes, but is not limited to …
Purified water
Filtered water
Ionized water
Tap water
Distilled water
Vitamin water
Energy water
All the marketing angles water companies have contrived to promote dead water have convinced busy people that it doesn’t matter that “big business” is killing the life-force energy of another one of the four elements essential to our survival: Water.
The other elements dying right before our eyes? Air and Earth.
The liquid in those smartly designed bottles may keep your bladder somewhat healthier and kidneys functioning slightly better, and they may increase the suppleness of your skin a bit. They’ll certainly help keep migraine headaches at bay and lubricate your entire body for better performance. Consuming dead water is better than drinking no water at all.
I’ve never understood those people who say they don’t like water. It’s unnatural. Like hating animals. I can’t be friends with those people. Though, I regularly ask my guardian angel to speak with their guardians and try to convince them that living water isn’t an option in life. Just like loving animals.
Nurture from Nature
I have discovered intoxicating amounts of information from 20 years of myriad research while endeavoring to find naturopathic and homeopathic methods of treatment for everything from scoliosis to fibromyalgia to my body’s insistence on growing things like cysts in my vital organs.
By the time the brain tumor came along in 2005, the angels had prepared me for the trauma of surgery needed to remove the Stage II Meningioma. They ensured me that as long as I held onto the faith that this world is filled with things much greater than what our five senses can comprehend—they would deliver me to the other side of the operation, alive.
Life-altering situations have a way of realigning our heart’s compass.
In my effort to understand the purpose that I was now seeking with the fervor of a “new-bee” learning to make honey, I came across information about water molecules containing angelic instructions. It is the reason why walking barefoot through dewy grass has a name: Earthing.
When our body connects with living water, it absorbs pieces of our evolutionary puzzle. Miniscule electric impulses. Divine directions. The information travels through our central energy channel, or sushumna, delivering necessary upgrades to all seven chakras from crown to root.
Becoming one with the water … living water … is one of life’s best kept secrets for finding harmony in the compressed state-of-being that we humans have signed up for. I challenge you to take notice next time you slide into the soothing realm of the ocean, or drink from a mountain stream, swim in a lake, or stand under a waterfall.
Notice where your mind goes. Notice the serenity.
Notice the oneness.
Debbie Abbott is a former managing editor for an upscale food and lifestyle print magazine from 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 Barchiel
From digital artist Peter Mohrbacher comes a 5-minute fast-forward visual adventure into the computer creation of the Pisces angel. Find the artist, and more of his work at Angelarium.net.
Two Fish, One Mind
Humor: “Points for Being a Perfectly Imperfect Pisces”
Personal Essay by Colleen Markley / Read time: 7 minutes
To: My Pisces Child
From: Mom
Re: Announcement - New parenting approach
Hello my love,
I’m writing this email to you from my closet, where I just spent five minutes power-sobbing into my fleece vest. Moody moon moms like me do this on occasion—all those watery Cancer Crab emotions need to go somewhere. I feel much better now and will be out soon.
I can hear you through the door. You’re doing fine.
You always do fine, even if you don’t think so. That’s the thing about being a Pisces child.
You are passionate and determined and will always finish everything you set your mind to.
You also become confused by your sensitive emotions and think that your feelings get in the way of your goals.
That opposition and inner struggle is all normal. The symbol of the Pisces is Two Fish. You are literally two opposing energies inside your own self. Your soul knew these two fish would guide you in this life. It’s why you decided when to arrive here on Earth, choosing your birthday just like you chose me to be your mom.
Why struggle against your own soul and self? There are enough struggles out there already.
One fish, Two fish
You are so unique and amazing, my Pisces child.
Fish Number One …
One part of your soul will want to accomplish every goal your dreamy imagination creates. You will see the germ of an idea and you will nurture it and grow it and toil after it until that plant not only sprouts but also grows into a fully harvested crop ready to feed the masses.
Fish Number Two …
The other part of your soul will want to rest and self-soothe in cozy clothes with a super soft blankie and ignore the world outside. Recharging. Restoring. But allowing yourself to rest that way will seem wrong. You feel like a fish out of water, wrapped in a blanket and earthbound. A forbidden and dangerous idea rather than a guilty pleasure.
Pisces are a reminder for all of us that we are better when we balance all the things, all the time.
You, sweet Pisces, might need to do things a little differently from other humans because you constantly integrate oppositional emotions. You are magical and practical. Goofy and reliable.
You feel the weight of the world as well as its joyful abundance. You are so many things. At the same time. In a charismatic swirl of complexity.
It’s challenging to feel like you are thriving and successful when you’re subconsciously aware of what is lacking and missing.
Life is so much more loving and joyful when you let it be. That’s what your star sign designed for you. And I know you’re gonna rock it.
So, I have an idea …
When I’m wiser and I’m older
This is why I’ve written this email to you, even though you prefer texts or the Discord or something that requires me to use my thumbs instead of ten-finger typing, which I spent an entire semester in ninth grade learning on an electric typewriter. You can file that under “Tell me how old you are without telling me how old you are,” as my dear friend Jolie (an Aries) likes to remind me.
I am older and wiser, and I’m going to parent a little differently now. And since you are the most creative and imaginative sign in the zodiac, I think you might like it.
You might be artistic and think outside the box, but you love to do it with intense success and recognition too. That feeling drives us to do more. My hope is that you embrace each part of life even when you’re not reaching your perfectionist goals. Be okay with life’s messes.
In the spirit of embracing our humanity, it is my honor to announce a new weekly contest.
“Hottest Mess of the Week”
I might even make a trophy.
We will now award points for Hot Mess attributes. You can earn them, I can earn them, it’s a completely democratic platform. Throughout our week, points will be rewarded for those in our family who act like a big hot mess. I think this is also called being human.
(And yes, I will tell your Capricorn dad that if he holds his stress and mess all inside him boxed up on his shelf of anger, he won’t be awarded any points. He’ll only earn an ulcer.)
Typical to Pisces, you are a visual learner, so I will incorporate this into the contest. We can make one of those fundraising thermometers as we earn more points.
You know all those index cards that I bought when I thought we as a household were all going to be contributing to completing the chore list? And I made up those little wish list index cards of to-do items and for three weeks you were all amazing and we hung them on the black board wall going down the stairs and then we got toward the end where the stairs were low and the cards were high and I couldn’t reach the top anymore? Somehow that was the end of the chore help. Chores are not fun.
So how do you earn points? Let’s explore a few hypothetical (and some not so hypothetical) examples.
Suppose you forgot your lanyard with your school ID. I’d call that one point (the good hot mess points, not the silly detention points that your school has. Those are nonsense and should be ignored).
Then, if you lost your lanyard for three days I’d give that three points.
Let’s say you finally find it but then immediately drop the lanyard in the toilet. Ten points you Rockstar! Look at you, making a memory worth sharing.
That hypothetical reminds me of the real-life story when Dad was taking a video of the crab he caught. The crab reached out with his (delicious) blue claw and grabbed dad’s phone, quickly dunking the device in the water. Forcing it to the bottom of the bucket, that crab drowned Dad’s phone. I might award 15 points retroactively to inspire Dad to try it again. (The fact that my sun sign symbol of the crab bested my Capricorn sea goat hubby is cosmically perfect.)
Thankfully, Dad was better at cooking the crab than he was at filming the crab. I love that Dad cooks for us. But he is not a neat cook. He’s the embodiment of hot mess here. He seasons and salts our food perfectly. He also salts the table and floor with equal measure and is blind to the mess he leaves behind.
If I were the cook, you might worry whether I’d cleverly designed a salt protection circle, and you were the subjects of complicated Wiccan spells. But it’s Dad, so you’re safe.
I’m going to take some hot mess points of my own …
I backed my car into the rock wall near the driveway and slashed the side wall of the tire. This apparently cannot be patched, because physics can only handle the pressure where the tire touches the ground, not where the tire is holding everything together.
Some meditation teacher somewhere will be able to use this metaphor about our needs to be grounded, but I am still learning to meditate without feeling like a toddler in a time-out chair.
For my tire slashing, I give myself four points.
Three days later, I finally found the AAA membership card (earning one point per day).
Two days after that, I finally called them to find out that my membership expired (four years ago?) so I needed to wait another day to avoid the same day charges for coming to change my tire.
NOTE: I am open to discussion on whether I should receive points for each year I let that AAA membership slide out of my memory-sphere.
No one can do all the things all the time.
We should reward ourselves for the moments we try anyway. We do a lot of celebrating of the good things. But we need to celebrate the forgiveness of the other things too.
So, darling Pisces child who I love with all my heart: we are not alone. We are not perfect.
The Hot Mess of the Week Humanity contest is going to make us feel much, much better about that. I know that you—as your full authentic self—will shine. I will love you and embrace all the parts of you that make you …
Amazing
Determined
Frustrating
Complicated
At the end of the day, I adore you, I love you, and I will support you. Even when you are a Hot Mess Human. And maybe, somedays, because of it.
With love and solidarity in mess,
Mom
P.S. You can still empty the dishwasher for chore credit, and extra hot mess points, too. xoxo
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. 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.
Treat Yourself Well
Culinary Wellness: “Big on Shrimp”
Article by Chef Candy Lesher / Read time: 5 minutes
When it comes to healthy protein-based edibles harvested from the ocean, the selection seems endless; most seafood is high in protein while low in calories and carbs. However, when it comes to affordable options, our spectrum of choice is vastly reduced.
Thankfully shellfish, specifically shrimp, is still one of the best pound-for-pound bargains out there.
That's the good news. The bad news is, shrimp is often overlooked because it's often overcooked. Perfectly plump, succulent, briny pink curves are the result of intentionally coaxing out their fullest potential. When done properly, they should have an appealing firm-crispness plus a lush profile reminiscent of lobster, which for me is the crown jewel of shellfish (though others argue their beloved king crab owns that accolade—we can all agree—neither lobster nor king crab are considered affordable).
Some Poaching Coaching
Though truly quite simple, the process requires more than just dropping raw shrimp into boiling water. (NO—NEVER! Their proteins will seize up and unless they're removed at the perfect moment, you’re guaranteed tough shrimp.) My method of choice is poaching because the result provides a main protein ingredient for dishes such as …
Healthy shrimp cocktail
Shrimp salad
Zucchini-noodle shrimp pasta
Effortless scampi
Shrimp lime-avocado salad
And let’s not forget that shrimp is more than just a tasty meal element. Beyond being high in protein and low in calories and carbohydrates, shrimp is abundant in …
Selenium
B12
Choline
Iodine
Phosphorus
Niacin
Zinc
Astaxanthin (promotes brain and heart health)
All the more reason to treat these little guys with respect when incorporating them into meals.
So what's the big secret to cooking shrimp properly? I like to call it …
The “4X Coaxing Code”
Using a simple four-step process, you coax the best texture from the delicacy like this …
Dry-brine the shrimp with baking soda and salt for 30 minutes. The alkaline soda supports that crisp-firm texture while salt promotes both flavor and moisture.
Coax in additional flavor by preparing a poaching “bath” of white wine, lemon and seasonings. The ultimate version is done by simmering the shells of your shrimp or other shellfish in that bath first, which essentially expands the intensity of flavor. If there's no time—or no shells—substitute clam juice or simply make it a wine/lemon/herb bath.
Coax even more from your shrimp by placing them into the cool “bath” water then slowly/gently raise the temperature to only 170-degrees for poaching.
Coax one final level of flavor by immediately placing the warm poached shrimps into Ziploc bags. Squeeze the air out from the plastic bag, zip it tight, and fully submerge the bag of shrimp into a big pan of ice water. HINT: Place a heavy pan on top to insure they're totally submerged. Not only have you quickly cooled them so they don't continue cooking, but you’ve avoided diluting the flavors that you so carefully cultivated in their wine/lemon/herb bath.
Okay—I know I said it was a 4X coaxing code. This extra step actually replaces Step 4 if time won’t permit your indulgence. Following Step 3, immediately drop your cooked shrimp into ice water the moment they pull into a C-shape and are pink through and through. The protein in them has been gently cooked and remains tender, yet retains a crisp-firmness.
Is it worth all that extra coaxing effort? Though biased, I have no doubt it is.
What's the workaround?
I always make two times more shrimp than I know I'll need for one meal so I can plan the next day's meal around those perfectly poached gems. We have never regretted it, and I'm betting you won't either.
Ultimate Poached Shrimp Recipe
2 quarts water
2 cups dry white wine
4 cloves garlic, smashed
1 teaspoon, each: parsley, dill, tarragon (if using thyme instead of tarragon, use only 1/2 of a teaspoon)
1 lemon, use a veggie peeler to remove 1/2 the zest and juice the whole lemon
1 small shallot, diced
All the shrimp shells (if you peeled your own shrimp)
HINT: I like to save my shrimp, lobster and/or crab shells anytime I go to a restaurant and bring them home. Just freeze them in a Ziploc and they're ready to flavor your next batch of poaching broth, even if you have to buy peeled shrimp.
—————————————————————————-
2 pounds shrimp, peeled and deveined (tail can still be attached)
2 Tablespoons, slightly rounded, of kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
Method
Combine the first group of ingredients (using all the juice and a 1/2 lemon worth of zest) in a sauce pan. Simmer 15-20 minutes. Remove from heat, allow to cool and then strain.
While the poaching water is cooling, mix together baking soda and salt. Dry brine the shrimp by tossing with the mixture, then allow them to sit in the refrigerator for 30-45 minutes. Rinse with cool water and drain.
Prepare a large bowl or pan with ice water—using lots of ice. Open four (4) one-quart Ziploc bags.
Place brined and rinsed shrimp into your cool poaching water. Slowly bring it up to a very low simmer (170-degrees). Watch carefully—do not let it go over 170! As soon as shrimp are pink through and through and have pulled into a gentle C-shape (an O-shape means they're OVERCOOKED), quickly divide the hot shrimp up into the plastic bags and submerge into the ice water until cool.
Lay the bags on a baking sheet, placing them onto the bottom shelf of the refrigerator if not using right away. Allow to chill thoroughly for the very best flavor and texture.
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, Candy 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.
Original Pisces watercolor by Read Gallo
Romance: “Pisces of Eight”
Fantasy Fiction by L.J. Longo / Read time: 7 minutes
Content Warning: mild language and slightly sexy
One …
I saw you on the train and I fell in love instantly.
Or at least, I fell in love with your scarf. Or the way you wore the scarf. The way it hugged your neck and flowed down your back. If I had been the kind of person who gave up their seats to the elderly, maybe I would have been standing too.
Then I could have moved closer to you on the train, gotten a better look at the way the fabric caressed your skin, study the way its supple edges trailed from your shoulders to just above the curve of your ass. Maybe, I could imitate it later in the quiet and dark of your bedroom.
Two …
What does your bedroom look like?
I bet it’s elegant. After all, you wear scarves. I bet you have soft sheets and a window with a view. Or, at least a view you’ve crafted. Does that make sense? This is what I mean.
Say, I ask you on the train, “Coffee, sometime?”
That turns into, “Wanna grab some wine?”
Which turns into, “My place or yours?”
At last turning into the greatest sex of our young lives.
I won’t notice the view at first, when you lead me into the quiet dark of your room, because you are taking off everything except the scarf. I won’t see anything except you, lying on your back, writhing for me, sinking into the soft sheets. The scarf will wrap around you like a third lover, hiding parts of you I can’t yet imagine.
Hiding scars I don’t yet know.
It's like a crime to uncover them, to reveal your unseen pain, to steal the secrets of your body. But you will forgive my curiosity and reward my boldness with soft moans and hungry words.
Then after this ultimate sexual adventure, we’d lie next to each other on your bed and I’d see the view.
The oily gas station across the street from your apartment is hidden by books of just the right height.
The curtain hung in just the right way hides the fire escape, but not the plants you have growing along the metal railing.
All I see is a jungle of black and green, a purple gray sky, and in the distance the jewel sparkle of New York City.
Three …
The free train rattled along. I needed to speak to you. I had to say something. To get anywhere near, “Coffee, sometime?” I had to say … something.
I call this train the free train, because I never buy a ticket.
It’s a tiny act of civil disobedience, walking by the ticket stamper and not having a ticket. It’s not as bold as jumping a turn-style which I would never do, though I’ve always admired the people who do. The unabashed rebellion of leap-frogging over a barrier specifically designed to make dodging the toll a challenge. I’ve never seen anyone called out for jumping a turn-style. I don’t know if it’s because no one of any authority sees the offense, and the rest of us are too humbled by the sheer athleticism, the absolute guts it takes to break such a law.
Myself, I rush through open emergency gates. Not that I’m the type to wait by the gate or to beg someone on the other side to open it. Just … if the opportunity presents itself, I will scurry though.
I bet you buy your ticket even when no one is watching and there’s no threat you’ll be caught. You’re a better person than me, and maybe you’ll be the one who cures me of this childish obsession with “can” and “should.”
Four …
I wish I had met you and your scarf in a cabaret. I would have been on stage, singing an old song that’s sultry because it cannot be obscene. Or else singing a new song that is less obscene because it’s sung in a sultry style.
I’d slink over to you, floating off the stage and towards your table. I’d be singing to you, even when I flirted with other patrons. That old man nodding off next to the window, he’d look away and blush when I dipped over him, embarrassed that the first time he’d been touched in years was by a stranger titillating for a performance. That woman flexing her feet and holding onto the strap, her toes would curl when I ran my finger under her chin and threatened to kiss her mouth.
But my song would be for you. I’d know it. When I finally reached you and took that scarf in my hands and sang to you, every patron in the cabaret would know my song is for you.
But would you know?
As the song died on my tongue would you look up at me and murmur in awe: “Can I buy you a glass of wine?”
Five …
Of course, I would have to actually work in a cabaret to seduce you like that. I’ve gone to one cabaret, one time. I saw they held auditions, and I never went back.
But if I was the type of person who went back to cabarets, and auditioned, and sang sultry songs to seduce patrons for tips—would you be in the audience?
Do you like underground vintage settings or does the deep intimacy upset you?
As we neared Bayonne, I wondered when you’d exit. The train emptied but you kept standing, absorbed in your phone. No doubt reading something classy. The scarf wafted behind you every time the train doors opened and I was admiring the ways the tips fluttered—I swear. I wasn’t looking at your ass.
But that’s when you noticed me staring.
I gasped, shocked to be caught, to be noticed doing something I shouldn’t.
It was horrifying. It was exhilarating.
Then you smiled at me.
Six …
I smiled back, laughed and said, “Well, I got caught red-handed.”
“And wide-eyed,” you answered, turning more fully toward me. The scarf floated along, just a moment behind.
“Guilty. Can I make it up you? Coffee, sometime?”
You grinned and tilted your head. You’re smile was so bright it hurt, so open and genuine. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know you have excellent taste in scarves and that’s worth the price of a coffee.”
The train halted at Forty-fifth street, which also happened to be my stop, and you sauntered off with a little smirk. “Sorry. I only drink tea.”
I followed you. “Even better. Tea is cheaper, by the way, this is my stop, too. I’m not being creepy.”
“I didn’t think you were. Have you ever been to Une Tasse Cafe?”
“I have not, though I’ve always longed to go there. It’s just at the end of my street, but I live on the fourth floor of my apartment and once I get home and go up all those stairs … And who wants to wake up early just to get a coffee at a place you don’t know?”
Seven …
Scratch number six.
I didn’t smile. Or laugh. Your smile was a little self-satisfied (you might’ve been watching me leer for a while) and I was so shocked by the confidence of it, the genuine kindness and humor. So stunned I had done something as wrong as to stare wide-eyed at an attractive person’s ass and I was not suffering any consequences.
I had blushed and looked away.
I couldn’t remember how to breathe, let alone speak.
I stared at the floor, at a Burger King wrapper. It fluttered when the train doors opened and I stood up without looking again at you and got off at my stop.
Eight …
They say you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. That you only live once.
Well, I’ve made 100% of the shots I’ve imagined, and I’ve lived a hundred lives in the quiet darkness of my own mind.
In my mind, you elegantly stepped off the train and I fell in step beside you. I was effortless and wonderfully charming. “Sorry, I was startled by you. Please forgive me. You wear your scarf very well, and I would like to get to know you better. Coffee, sometime?”
In real life—oh boy—you stayed on the train.
As the door shut, I shouted, the weirdest weirdo who ever weirded out everyone else on the platform, but I had to try at least once in my life. I had to really try. So I shouted. “You with the scarf. Missed Connections. On Craigslist. Do you remember those?”
You looked up from your phone, startled. And the doors shut. And the train went away. And I have no idea if you heard me, or understood me, or even knew what a Missed Connection on Craigslist was.
But if you did hear me, and you do understand me, then …
Coffee, sometime?
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.
Sunset, a simple reminder of tomorrow's promise.
Poet-Tree: “With Darkness Comes Dawn”
Original poetry by Elle Becker
UNFINISHED
You were on page 72.
I tried to read it for you but
I couldn't get past that dog-eared page.
Your clothes were still in the dryer.
I couldn't wash them again for a long time after that no matter
how much I wore them plus
you left a hair on the soap in the shower
how could your hair be there when you're gone and also
your toothbrush.
It was brand new, and everyone knows you keep a toothbrush
for three months so how could a toothbrush outlive you
I can't understand
why you didn't fix the towel rack we knocked down when
we made love up against the wall and after we finished
you started your new book but
you only got to page 72.
TO J WITH LOVE
Yeats’ words taught me peace.
He was right—it does come ‘dropping slow.’
Until you hastened my heart at the sight of your muddy green eyes.
You slowed my suffering when I breathed you in.
Your devotion taught me of the truth that exists in small acts of tenderness.
You grounded my soul, rooting me firmly to the Earth, so I could hear the language of the plants you grow.
When we are old, I'll set my small hands on your magnificent, whiskered face, and my magic, made of love, shall grant your wishes and give you the sweetest dreams.
Just as you've done for me.
You still hold my hand in your sleep, my love.
How does your slumbering soul know that I do not notice my malaise when you touch me?
I love you so much, I miss you when you sleep.
I ache for your consciousness, yet I am endeared to your repose.
I am content to lie next to you,
to be rocked by the slow tide of your breathing; to inhale as you exhale,
enamored by the sweet scent of your soul.
Please do not lament,
there is no swaying pedestal you must place yourself on.
I don't think you a Saint, but rather the best of all men.
We built a home made up of our own strong foundation.
Sturdy walls and the roof are made of our memories and laughter.
You're my best friend; my comrade in the battle that comes with
simple daily existence.
With grace and tact, you balance my clumsy blunders.
Simply put, I love you with everything I am.
Yeats’ words taught me peace; like a balm, you applied it to my soul.
Elle Becker is an Arizona native. Though she's lived in other amazing places, the desert called her home. She's usually found at her laptop, writing. Elle’s first novel is part one of a three-book dystopian series. Working hard on book two, she finds that writing smooths out the scribbles in her life. When not writing, Elle spends time with her boyfriend and family, getting outside as much as possible. She enjoys painting, reading, and kicking some serious butt in Scrabble. She also loves all dogs and is looking forward to being a crazy dog lady someday. Elle would love to hear from you!
Connect with Elle through email at ellebecker@therarebirdwrites.com, or find Elle on Facebook where she extends her branch of The Rare Bird Writes cooperative.
Playlist: Pisces
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 March, curated by our contributors to celebrate all things Pisces. This month’s songs are listed below. Keep in mind that the playlist on YouTube changes each month to focus on the current zodiac.
“Ocean Eyes” - Billie Eilish
“The Air That I Breathe” - The Hollies
“Only the Ocean” - Jack Johnson
“Brave” - Sara Bareilles
“Levitating” - Dua Lipa
“Calypso” - John Denver
“I Was on a Boat That Day” - Old Dominion
“Wake Me Up” - Avicii
“Love Somebody” - Schuyler Fisk
“She Moved Through the Fair” - Stephanie Healy
“Girl From the Sidewalk” - Noah Floersch
“Let It Be” - The Beatles
“Gospel Song” - Rhett Walker
“Subway Song” - Julianna Zachariou
“Man of Your Word” - Maverick City Music ft. Chandler Moore & KJ Scriven
Color Therapy: Pisces
FREE Downloadable/Printable — just get your crayons, pencils, pastels, or paints and right-click the image below.
Pisces People
