Dill is a Vibe

Dill Is a Vibe

Who knew dill could be a full-on mood, setting the tone for silliness and surprise? Not just the herb, but the entire dill universe captures a tangy, quirky energy that transforms ordinary moments. My friend and I recently tumbled down a delightfully ridiculous rabbit hole of all things dill, and let me tell you, that unique vibe shaped the whole adventure.

It began with the Mystical Pickle divination toy—because why not let a plastic gherkin decide fate? Then roasted vegetables, drizzled with cool yogurt dill sauce—creamy, herb-bright, almost clarifying, as if dill itself whispered: see clearly, laugh more, and fortune will follow.

Next came dill sea salt from a tiny Pacific Northwest island—it turned a tomato slice into alchemy. Amazing dill pickle–flavored potato chips? Yes! Discovered thanks to a grizzled sailor at the marina, squinting at the tide, who divulged which brand was worth my salt. He was right.

As if the universe wanted to join in, I overheard a Norwegian visitor describe a UAP as "a fat dill pickle hovering in the sky." Dill becomes a metaphor for the unfamiliar, sneaking into stories, snacks, and figures of speech for the unexplainable.

But here’s the real magic: it wasn’t just about dill. It was about laughter, serendipity, and saying yes to the absurd. About leaning into childlike wonder, following the tangy trail wherever it led, and savoring how delight can appear when you least expect it.

So here’s your invitation: find your dill—whether it’s actually dill or your own version of unexpected joy. Let it serve as a metaphor for playfulness and curiosity. Season your days with clarity and good fortune, and remember, wonder waits for anyone willing to taste it.

Visiting American Prophets

 

Visiting American Prophets: Anticipation

Later this autumn, I will travel to Chicago to visit the American Writers Museum. Their upcoming exhibit, American Prophets: Writers, Religion, and Culture, gathers those whose work has traced the numinous in American life. These are writers who reach beyond doctrine to reveal the divine in story and the extraordinary in the ordinary. They also search out the questions that live beneath belief. Among them is Rachel Pollack.

To see her name among such voices stirs awe. Rachel’s presence feels both inevitable and astonishing. She translated mysteries through Tarot, myth, and human transformation, making the invisible tangible. Her fiction and essays combined scholarly precision with imaginative daring, expanding literature’s scope. She insisted that curiosity and wonder belong in serious discourse and believed the spiritual resides within each of us. For her, the strange was often our truest mirror.

When I think of her as an American Prophet, I see her work in dialogue with other seekers. Baldwin’s moral clarity and his Christian language exploring queer spirituality come to mind. I recall the mythic worlds of Ursula K. Le Guin and N. K. Jemisin, and the visionary tension of Flannery O’Connor. I’m also reminded of Matthew Kirby’s luminous search, his atmospheric stories exploring truth and identity in mystery and history. Still, Rachel’s voice is distinct. Her spiritual imagination was not nostalgic or ornamental; it was revelatory. She spoke to the lived experience of belief, showing its ecstasies and wounds, and revealing its power to rebuild identity from within.

Her inclusion feels personal. I knew Rachel as a mentor and friend, her curiosity inseparable from her kindness. Her work reminds me that story is a living practice and that the sacred is not elsewhere but near, waiting to be seen. 

It humbles me to know that a small piece of my writing about Rachel will live within that space. I can almost hear her laugh at the symmetry of it all. That bright, knowing laugh dissolved any sense of hierarchy, placing us on the same field of discovery. If she were here, she would tell me to take it in fully and urge me to let the amazement be real.

Standing there, I imagine I will feel the familiar tug between awe and disbelief. That is the same tension she taught me to hold with grace. In that moment, surrounded by the words of so many who have sought meaning through story, I will think of her voice rising among them. It will be sure and clear, reminding me that revelation is rarely grand. It happens quietly, in the rooms where we finally recognize we belong.

Learn more about the American Writers Museum: https://americanwritersmuseum.org/

Archaeology of the Soul

The sun beat down at Taposiris Magna. Dr. Kathleen Martínez brushed away the final soil. Alabaster emerged beneath her fingers and glowed in the heat. It is Cleopatra. Only eight representations are known. Here, centuries later, she looked out from the earth with the same dignity and presence that commanded empires. Even in fragments, she reshapes how we imagine the past and what endures.

Watching an archaeologist work is to witness patience with time. For decades, Dr. Martínez has sifted through earth, architecture, and speculation. She remains focused on one question: what stays and where. These field moments show that meaning is rarely on the surface. Each brushstroke, note, and pause has value.

This pursuit mirrors an excavation within ourselves. Just as the archaeologist peels back earth layer by layer, we examine the inner strata of memory, silence, ritual, and loss. Using harsh judgment is like striking with a pick—damaging rather than revealing. Instead, gentleness and patience shed light on hidden truths, allowing us to trace subtle impressions that may connect, or not. As in archaeology, what is overlooked at first may prove valuable, and our imperfections often hold deep meaning.

The methods differ, but the mindset aligns. Tarot spreads become maps of emotional inquiry, journals function as logs of discoveries, and dreams serve as chambers hiding personal truths. Each yields fragments that, when assembled, form a detailed landscape of the inner world.

What we uncover is rarely pristine. Some layers hold light, moments that shine. Others yield rubble: grief, broken promises, survival’s compromises. Yet every fragment matters. The soul is not a smooth surface. It is a living site where ruins and relics coexist. Every shadow and shard shows endurance.

We may never understand our own depths. Cleopatra’s burial may never be found. Yet the search changes us. Beneath the sunbaked earth, beneath memory and silence, something endures. It waits for a careful hand and an attentive eye. We must be willing to keep excavating. Each small discovery shows what can persist.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye!

Big news, friends! I’m stepping into not one but two new podcast adventures, and I can’t wait to share them with you.

First up is The Jamber’ee, a twice-monthly gathering on YouTube that I’m co-hosting with my brilliant friend Jaymi Elford. Picture it as our cozy corner for divination, books, fountain pens, magick, and the occasional dive into high strangeness. It is curious, playful, and very much the kind of conversations Jaymi and I have been having for years.

And that is just the beginning. Starting October 30th, I’ll be joining Rose Red on her long-running show, Tarot Visions. For more than twenty years, Rose has hosted conversations that connect Tarot with creativity and community, and I’m excited to be part of that ongoing exploration. Each month we will dive into topics that matter to us and invite listeners to join in the conversation.

Both shows promise curiosity, conversation, and a little magick along the way. I look forward to seeing you there.

Follow both shows:

The Jamber'ee

Tarot Visions

Pulling Inspiration

Tarot as a Writing and Reading Companion

I keep a deck close when I write because it helps me see what I might be missing. Pulling a card doesn’t tell me what to say. It nudges me towards questions I wouldn’t have asked on my own. Sometimes it points out an idea I hadn’t noticed, and sometimes it reminds me to pay attention to details I might have overlooked. The Fox from a Lenormand deck sometimes shows up and keeps me sharp, reminding me to be clever, careful, and aware of the choices I make as a writer. 

Cartomancy also changes how I read and think about stories. A book becomes something to examine, not just follow. A card can highlight a theme, make a character’s motivation clearer, or reveal patterns that I wouldn’t have caught otherwise. The Eight of Pentacles is always there as a quiet reminder to keep showing up, to commit to steady work even when inspiration feels slow. The Seven of Cups opens my mind to the endless possibilities that spring from a single idea. Reading and writing blend together, guided by the cards, my curiosity, and the willingness to pay attention.

Keeping Tarot close has become part of how I approach everything I write. It helps me focus, reflect, and engage with ideas more deeply. Every draw and every moment of reflection reminds me why showing up matters, why curiosity matters, and why careful attention makes all the difference. Tarot is not just guidance. It is a companion, a partner, and a steady presence in the work I do.

The Energy of Beginning

Eager Days

Even without children in the house, the shift is unmistakable. In the last days of August, the world begins to lean toward September. On a recent morning at a local coffee shop, the rhythm of life seemed to sharpen. College freshmen gathered with their bright new backpacks, laughter spilling as they recounted summer adventures. Nearby, a young child grinned at her mother, telling her for the hundredth time how wonderful first grade was going to be. The air itself vibrated with anticipation.

After the long sprawl of summer, life gathers itself differently in these days. Where July invited lingering and leisure, now the season calls for attention, for readiness. Even small moments, like overhearing excited chatter or seeing the shuffle of feet and pages, feel like invitations to step into something new.

This energy is not limited to classrooms. Writers may find themselves drawn to fresh pages, gardeners toward autumn planting, and artists toward renewed focus. Small gestures—rearranging a corner of the home, beginning a daily walk, or opening a book that has waited patiently on a shelf—can ride this current. As a student, I remember the scent of new books, the crisp paper, freshly sharpened pencils and inks. Those smells brought smiles to my face and charged my heart with anticipation for what the year might bring.

On mornings when I tend the garden, fill the bird feeders, or watch Piper splash in her pool, that same vibrant pulse is present. The season’s energy announces itself insistently, ready to be taken up. There is no roll call, no schedule required—only the invitation to notice it, to step fully into the momentum, and to let it guide the work, the play, and the small, deliberate beginnings of each day.

No Rules, Except Discovery

Rachel Pollack, in her Arthur C. Clarke Award–winning novel Unquenchable Fire, offers a declaration that feels at once daring and deeply reassuring:

“There are no rules, except discovery. There is no tradition, except invention.”

These words invite us to step beyond the familiar boundaries we often place around creativity, learning, and spiritual practice. They suggest that the most meaningful work of our lives arises when we relinquish the comfort of rigid prescriptions and allow ourselves to enter into a genuine dialogue with the unknown. Discovery is not a matter of passively waiting for inspiration to arrive; it is the active pursuit of new insights, the willingness to ask questions that may have no immediate answers, and the capacity to notice the unexpected along the way. 

Invention, as Rachel frames it, transforms the idea of tradition. The past becomes neither a relic to be preserved unchanged nor an obstacle to be discarded entirely. Instead, it becomes a foundation from which we create anew. We take what has been given to us—stories, rituals, ideas—and reshape them in ways that reflect the realities of our own time, our personal experiences, and the visions we hold for the future. Tradition, in this sense, becomes a living organism, evolving through each contribution we make.

Rachel’s words resonate because they illuminate the courage required to live and work in this manner. Discovery calls us to risk uncertainty for the sake of authenticity, to take steps that may feel awkward or untested in the hope of uncovering something genuine. Invention asks us to weave our own thread into the greater tapestry, knowing that what we create today may guide, inspire, or challenge those who come after us.

When we embrace this philosophy, we grant ourselves the freedom to shape our own path while also becoming mapmakers for others. We honor the spirit of discovery by venturing forward without a predetermined route, and we uphold the vitality of tradition by daring to invent within it.