August: Leo
The 8th issue of Dharma Direction treads into the Lion’s den. Don’t be afraid… the king of the jungle guards a generous and passionate soul full of warmth and creativity. Leo’s massive mane is merely a double-entendre meant to attract and intimidate at the same time.
Are you ready to Go With The Flow?
Leo: The Lion
July 23 - August 23
It's good to be king.
Angels: “Noble Intentions”
Personal Essay by Debbie Abbott
Read time: 9 minutes
I’ve been waiting patiently for the eighth issue of Dharma Direction, since we launched the first one in January, so that I could reflect upon the Leo in my life—my dad. But first, let’s look at the significance of the number eight.
Eight is very auspicious. When laid on its side, it turns into the symbol for infinity.
If you happen to notice an 888, the angels may be trying to relay a message to you that it’s time to prepare for something new. These triple digits signify that things are winding down, but the light is bright at the end of the tunnel.
The “dharma wheel” from Buddhist tradition has eight spokes, representing the Noble Eightfold Path. These concepts focus on how to live a humble, fulfilling, and abundant life by following what I relate to as the Golden Rule… though my parents taught it to me in a very different manner than Siddhartha learned it during his spiritual journey to become the Buddha.
Right This Way
Unlike the negative political connotations of a Left and Right society, the Buddhist principles below speak to purity of spirit. More than simply a matter of wrong and right, the “Rights” of the Eightfold Path are rooted in the method for obtaining the end of suffering. Nobody wants to be miserable, yet far too many people choose it by default.
The Eightfold Path is subdivided into three categories…
Good Moral Conduct
1. Right Understanding
2. Right Thought
3. Right Speech
Meditation and Mental Development
4. Right Action
5. Right Livelihood
6. Right Effort
Wisdom or Insight
7. Right Mindfulness
8. Right Concentration
Know It All
We don’t need detailed explanations to know what each of these eight directives encompass. So I won’t go into all of them, but let’s visit a few…
The First Path: Everyone grasps what it means to understand or misunderstand something. The line in the sand that is drawn for separation of right and wrong is where things get muddy, because we don’t know what we don’t know.
And even when we know what we know, we still don’t know enough to think we know everything.
The Second Path: This same principle holds true for our thoughts. You are not a human if you don’t have both negative and positive thoughts… all the time, every day. It’s part of evolution and the brain’s job to warn us constantly with thoughts focused on our survival. Once upon a time, this was a necessary tactic that has allowed us to evolve into the intelligent, top-of-the-food-chain beings we’re so proud of today. (Or disappointed in, depending on your view.)
The Third Path: Right Speech is not an invitation to debate about free speech. This directive speaks to the idea that every word transmits much more than just its meaning. The spoken word carries energy—vibrations that bounce in patterns.
Brilliant patterns… when positive, loving words are said.
Scattered, chaotic patterns… when negative, hateful words are spewed.
For anyone who thinks this is a coincidence, the angels beg you to consider otherwise. This kind of “message” stems from Sacred Geometry.
The Shape of Energy
Snowflakes—not the very sensitive people of today who are so easily hurt or offended by the words and actions of others that they cannot agree to disagree with anyone, but rather, the real ones that fall from clouds—are stunning examples of Sacred Geometry at work.
The perfection of geometric patterns found in nature will melt your mind if you dive far enough into it.
These occurrences are not merely random productions. The angels point to one of their own, Metatron and his cube: The Merkaba. Contained within the intricate design of the cube are all the geometric shapes and patterns found in nature, like the honeycomb and the nautilus, and even DNA molecules. Metatron’s cube is said to be a divine vehicle for achieving balance.
Balance within self. Balance in nature. And balance within the cosmos.
To define Sacred Geometry, think of it as the study of shapes and their spiritual meaning as applied to forms, patterns, and numbers seen in nature. From the spiraling insides of a sea shell to the shapes certain fish draw in the sandy bottom of the ocean to attract a mate…
Our world is filled with evidence of the divine.
Back to the Buddhists. If you’ve seen the current Dalai Lama, you may have noticed that he always seems to be smiling. So many statues created in the Buddha’s (later-in-life) image bear a childlike grin, as do the real men who have been chosen to continue Buddha’s work. They all share the same kind of smile that touches the eyes, shining with inner light. Theirs are the faces of inner peace.
This light. This energy. We all carry it inside us. And it doesn’t matter what religion you are, or aren’t. The common thread that binds us all is energy.
Future Present
I was given an amazing gift the day an angel appeared before me on the street corner almost 20 years ago. A present that changed my future.
One cannot ever forget what it feels like to see a celestial being in our three-dimensional world. The ethereal image is forever imprinted onto my molecular memory. Knowing that this kind of theological realm actually exists has brought a heightened awareness to me of why we are all here. Why every single soul chose to journey beyond the bounds of other dimensions onto this dense, beautiful orb we call Earth.
Life as we know it, here in our soft, fragile bodies, is such a delicate balance of light and shadow, good and evil, promise and disappointment. The good news is that we all came here with Free Will—the option to choose.
Choose how to feel.
Choose how to act.
Choose how to love, and how to heal.
We also choose how to hurt and hate.
Yes, these negative emotions are choices we pick. And just like the proverbial poison apple, the outcome of such a choice always leads to darkness.
Verchiel, the Angel of Leo and Affection
A high-ranking angel who governs the sun, Verchiel encourages us to gravitate toward love rather than loathing. Turn to him when you’re having a bad day, and ask for emotional clarity.
Also known as the Angel of Ego and Pleasures, Verchiel encourages you to enjoy your achievements as you reflect on your past and its path. Let this loving angel fill your heart with harmony, optimism, and gratitude. All you have to do is ask.
The lion of the Leo zodiac is filled with the same qualities as the angel guiding its season. And if you know any Leos personally, you’ve surely seen evidence of their magnetic personalities enamoring us with a confidence that can be understated and misunderstood.
Quiet Dominance
My dad is a Leo. He’s always been handsome, with a little bit of Elvis in his eyes that twinkle when he’s trying to hide his greatness.
The odd thing about Leos is that even though their egotistical habits are hard to deny (my dad’s been using styling cream on his slick pompadour haircut since he was a pre-teen), the Lion knows how to present his magnificence in a most humble manner.
Never a braggadocios kind of guy, my dad is a die-hard perfectionist who is better than anyone else at his craft. (Take a look at the car he built in the Poet-Tree section of this issue.) He’s a smooth operator who can cut a rug like he was born on the dance floor. Watching him jitterbug with my mom is one of the purest joys in my life.
As king of the jungle, lions rule with a quiet dominance. From a distance they can seem aloof and uncaring. This is so far from the truth of what’s going on beneath their prideful hearts. Love runs incredibly deep in Leos. Their loyalty sets a standard for the rest of the zodiac… at least my dad’s does. He turns 80 this month and he’s been in love with my mother since he was 18. They got married in 1963 and will celebrate 60 years of wedded bliss next year.
So, don’t be too quick to judge the Leos who stride into your life. They can turn on the pomp and circumstance when it suits them, but the lion likes to lie in wait… observing his savannah with pride. Just remember, he’s king for a reason.
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 publisher and editor of Dharma Direction.
Connect with Debbie on Facebook, through Debbie's Twitter page or visit Debbie on Instagram.
Audio Visual Art: Angel Verchiel
Digital artist Peter Mohrbacher treats viewers this month to the ethereal sounds of musical artist Xan Griffin (featuring NÉONHÈART). Find Peter’s work at Angelarium.net. Find more of Xan’s work on his YouTube Channel. Watch time: 4+ minutes
For the love of a lion.
Humor: “Leo: The Plot Hole Explored”
Personal Essay by Colleen Markley
Read time: 11 minutes
“Thank you for being part of my essay!” I told my brother—a fellow writer—as he was getting ready to leave my house on Thanksgiving. I was beaming with pride about my first piece printed in an anthology.
I’d had plenty of hits online before, but seeing my name in print—in a book published by the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop—was pretty much the most awesome thing that had happened to me as a writer. At least since I was eight, when I was published in the local paper in the “Kids Korner.” Why they chose to title the children’s section with two misspelled words I do not understand, but I blame any spelling test C/K confusion/konfusion in 1980s Northern New Jersey on The Suburban Trends. I still have a laminated copy of “The Great Super Ball Attack” flash fiction among my clippings.
I love writing. I especially love writing when it gets shared. Downright giddy in fact.
So this Thanksgiving, when I was saying goodbye to my brother and making sure he was taking his (gluten-free) stuffing and turkey leftovers home with him, I also checked to make sure he had the Sisters! Bonded by Love and Laughter book.
I’d given copies to all 43 guests who came for dinner (Thanksgiving is always a big deal at our house).
I’d signed the title page of my award-winning essay about my amazing sister Karen (obviously named before memes) and tucked my custom bookmark into page 27.
I watched with delight (and a bit of relief after a long day) as my guests departed, with their books and leftovers in hand.
I was a writer. I was published. My name was in a book affiliated with one of my all-time humor writing heroes.
Erma Bombeck. And me. Soul Sisters.
I was beaming with joy.
But my brother was not beaming back at me.
He was smirking. I was instantly concerned.
He’s an eagle-eye editor, so I was worried he’d found a typo or worse—an actual grammar error—and it was in print forever for me to lament.
“Is something wrong?” I asked him, real concern in my voice now.
“Thanks for everything, dinner was delicious, but I need to tell you… I’m a little annoyed.”
Waiting to Roar
My brother is never annoyed with me (because I am a perfect oldest sister) so I was rooted to the spot waiting to hear what I’d possibly done.
“Your story is great and everything, but I’m a total plot hole,” Sean told me. “No one knows what happened to me. They can read this story and it could end ‘and her brother died’ or ‘and her brother was fine’ and no one knows the difference. I think you need to write a sequel.”
I was so grateful he was smiling as he said it.
He was completely right. (Spoiler alert, he was fine.)
He could have been pissed. Instead, he was funny.
My siblings and I all share a witty sense of humor, which I think is one of the reasons we get along so well. Here I was, handing my brother a story where he was barely mentioned, even though he was the unseen star.
I’d written a thousand words about my sister—yet the impetus of the story was about Sean’s run-in with a parked van and the incredible amount of blood that head wounds produce.
I’d written the story all about Karen and how incredibly calm she’d been coming home to an empty house, finding a trail of blood, and immediately cleaning it up. (Potential murder scene and removal-of-evidence concerns aside, this was 1990 when forensics weren’t really something kids knew about. That said, if I ever need to hide a body, it’s Karen I will call.)
But Sean was right. I’d made the story of his near-death experience about me and my sister…
Not the 47 stitches he needed in his forehead.
Or the fact that I later told him: “Don’t worry. Chicks dig scars.”
I’d like to think that’s typical of older siblings, but maybe it was also typical of how he gets shifted out of the spotlight sometimes. Two older sisters can be very overwhelming.
I told Sean I’d write about him for Dharma Direction when his birth sign, Leo, came around. He shrugged and said he didn’t feel much like a Leo, which is what I think most people say when they don’t like the negative traits of their sign. (And just for the cosmic record, Leos don’t like being ignored, so his plot-hole statement makes me laugh as well as raise an eyebrow).
Plenty of people don’t think they affiliate with their zodiac, and some don’t always fall in line with their sun sign. Fuller pictures emerge as we dig deeper into the moon sign and ascending sign.
Determined to make it up to Sean, I decided I’d research his star chart and write about him. I was excited to explore my brother in the stars and make him the star.
Time to Shine
The first thing I did was text our mom, asking her what time Sean was born (necessary information to calculate his moon sign and ascending sign). Of course, she knew off the top of her head, because those are important details in the stories of our births, which she would tell us about each year on our birthday—making us feel like the world began when we did.
I know my own story, where I am the main character, better than I know my brother’s. I’m a typical first-born.
With a few quick calculations online, I discover that Sean’s moon sign is Sagittarius and his ascending sign is Libra. I decide this will make much more sense when we look at the whole picture of the sky and the whole story of Sean. Like Leos, he is witty and funny and charming and a delight to be around and spend time with. But because he has these other influences, I am sure that is how he avoids a lot of the attention-seeking “I need to be the center of the universe” thing that tends to befall Leos.
Sean doesn’t need to be the center of attention. But when he is, we’re all better for it. He shines.
Leos are ruled by the Sun, so no wonder they think of themselves as the center of the universe (or at least this solar system). The positive part of the Sun being your ruling sign is that Leos are a constant.
As a Cancer Crab, I’m ruled by the moon, so I’m also a constant. My siblings and I are all July birthdays, consistent and reliable.
Our ruling planetary bodies are never in retrograde.
When we were younger, I simply thought of the three of us as the July birthday kids. What I didn’t find out until later was, that of our sibling trio, I was the only Cancer. Karen and Sean, with their birthdays (three years minus) a day apart at the end of the month made them Leos.
I was furious they had something in common without me. Whether that’s a firstborn bossy kid, or Cancer's fierce desire to be included, who knows. But my two younger sibs were closer in age to each other, and I’ve always been jealous of the closeness that brought them.
I was often pushed into the position of parent and caretaker, and they were my charges. No wonder they found me annoying.
Patience, Prose, and the Plastic Bucket
And I was annoying. Seven years older, I got tired of changing my brother’s diapers and told him I wasn’t doing it anymore. I sat him on the kiddy potty and made him sit there until he peed. It was not a short amount of time.
I brought him books and read to him until I got bored, and then I brought him more books to read on his own, even though he couldn’t read yet.
He stayed there until he had something to show me in the little plastic bucket. Then I handed him some He-Man Underoos and we played Fantasy Forest and enjoyed the rest of our day.
I wasn’t the patient, kind, nurturing older sister he might have needed, but I was efficient.
And who doesn’t prefer Underoos to diapers?
My brain starts to loop in our childhood stories, and I decide he deserves more credit for who he is now. I often tell my siblings we three are unicorns. After all we withstood in childhood, we are a miracle to be such fully functional emotionally in-tune adults with positive relationships with each other and our families that we created.
So, I decided to dive into his other signs, to explore who I know as my brother now. I send him the write-ups first—reading just the first line “a need for personal freedom and space.” Oh yes. That is true.
I glance at the rest and see something about loving the outdoors. He’s always loved being outside in nature. On his 40th birthday, I sent him a happy birthday text. He sent me back a photo he took meeting sunrise on a hike.
The rest of his star descriptions must be correct, too. I hit send and text him, “Does this seem more accurate than Leo?”
And then Sean texts me back. “LOL. We’ve met before, right?”
I read the rest. There are some statements that feel right, but others are, in fact, complete opposites. I don’t think I’m convincing him his astrological chart is his answer to all of life.
Sometimes the universe feels like it is not aligned.
Sometimes the universe is telling us to slow down.
I stop trying to read anything, trying to analyze anything. I just think about Sean, and how I see him now, as the person I’m no longer trying to boss around. Now he’s someone I admire. And I want him to admire me as well.
I value him, his strength, his humor, his ability to let go of some things and hold on to others.
I think about the moments where we let go.
Ten years ago, Sean brought his girlfriend (now wife and member of my inner circle coven because I adore her) to visit us on vacation. We’d rented a house on Cape Cod, and in addition to being walkable to the beach, it had a tennis court. We played doubles for a bit—until Sean and I decided we were tired and didn’t care anymore.
We sat on the side and drank beers while we watched my husband and his girlfriend play the most epic tennis match on the planet. For hours. Many beers later, Sean and I were making fun of the competitive halves of our relationships. Brian was so drenched in sweat he looked like he’d taken a dip in the ocean and come back out to play. I don’t remember who won. I do remember that Sean and I were content to sit and watch.
Laughter’s Light
And I think about the moments where we lean in.
Sean was always amazing with my kids. He was just 21 when they arrived on the scene, but he’s always asked them questions about their lives, what they were doing, and how they felt about it. Sean always made them feel seen and heard.
He didn’t consult their star charts. He consulted them. Asked a question, listened to the answer, then asked the follow-up. A journalist uncle in action.
Watching Sean with his own kids now, twenty years later, is just as heart-warming. He has two adorable toddlers who are confident, happy, full of love, and interested in the world around them. I love being with Sean’s kids as much as I love being with Sean.
Spending time with children who have been well-parented is a gift; it reminds you of all that is good in a world that often tries its best to reinforce the dark or negative.
The light of children who are taught to love, and be loved, shines through… every time.
I watch Sean play with his kids while they burst into that laughter and joy that is uniquely designed for children. I hear the echo of the laughter he had as a child when we played together and remember that in these moments I see the best side of Sean, because of the spaces he’s made for his kids. And for me and my kids.
Maybe he knows how much I think of him. Maybe I don’t need the stars to tell him that. Maybe, if I’ve done my job, he might already know.
Even if I occasionally leave a plot hole.
Spoiler alert. He’s better than fine.
Sean is a guiding star.
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. Colleen’s essays and humor have appeared in multiple anthologies in print and various magazines online. Named the June 2021 winner of the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop Humor Writer of the Month, Colleen attempts to be funny every month as a regular contributor riffing on the zodiac for Dharma Direction. 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).
Find her at www.ColleenMarkley.com or sign up here for her newsletter and updates.
Visit Colleen on Instagram, see what’s up on her Facebook, or shout-out to Colleen on Twitter.
Soups are cool.
Culinary Craft: “The Power & Flavor of Color”
Article & Recipe from Chef and Culinary Wellness Coach Candy Lesher
Read time: 3 minutes + Recipe
Tomatoes …
Purple shouldered red Calabash.
Deep violet Cherokee and Purple Boy.
Brandywine yellow and Amana orange.
All of these crowded to the top of my mind when I learned of Leo's power colors (gold, yellow, orange, purple, and red). Thankfully, even our ubiquitous chain grocery stores are catching on and bringing in small lots of these heirloom tomato varieties; a blessing for those who can't make it to a farmer's market or grow their own.
But what do you do with a basket of those precious, chromatic gems, beyond drizzling with a fine olive oil then gilding with a splash of well-aged vinegar, or creating a classic mozzarella-tiled Caprese salad?
My vote goes to creating a big batch of Gazpacho!
Though there are many short-cut recipes out there (throw it all in a blender and Voila!), really great tomatoes deserve to be given every opportunity to shine, in both flavor and nutrition. A little extra time spent in the kitchen will lend a rich composition that haunts your palate in winter months, when tomatoes are far from their peak.
For the ultimate gazpacho…
Roasting two-thirds of your tomatoes (especially the dark-purple and red varieties), actually elevates the Lycopene levels; Lycopene is an important nutrient for everyone but most especially for men's health. It also greatly intensifies the tomato's rich essence.
I also like to roast or toast the shallot and garlic; it smooths out the edge and lends a pleasant toasty-sweetness to those cloves.
Roasting and peeling a few red peppers adds a depth and richness to the gazpacho too, though there are a number of fine jarred, fire-roasted pepper varieties out there.
A lot of classic gazpacho recipes simply blend all the ingredients together and top with a few minor garnishes. However, for a bowl of sheer summer deliciousness, I make my roasted tomato/pepper base then ladle it over a mound of finely chopped veggies like cucumber, celery, radish, green onion, even roasted corn.
A quick garnish of chopped parsley or cilantro and a hearty sprinkle of avocado, feta and/or hard cooked egg before drizzling with a fine olive oil or rich green pumpkin seed oil will be all you need to make it the consummate summer dining experience.
For those not concerned with carb or wheat issues, a few toasty croutons could be your crowning touch.
The Insider’s Tip
I know that a lot of recipes will call for a splash of wine vinegar or acid like lemon juice, but do try drizzling in a good balsamic instead. That intense richness seems to exponentially compliment the intensity of the roasted tomato profile. With gazpacho this good, you will not regret spending a little more kitchen time, nor using up your treasured balsamic.
Recipe: Candy’s Gazpacho
Serves 6
Though it looks like a lot of ingredients, it really isn’t. Many are simply added to the blender, and the rest are chopped and mixed for a fresh “salad” to mound in your bowl before ladling in that luscious gazpacho.
Ingredients:
2 pounds tomatoes
1 large shallot, unpeeled
6 cloves garlic, unpeeled
1 cup roasted red bell peppers (jarred works great)
3 Tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 to 1.5 teaspoons sea salt (must be to taste)
1/2 teaspoon smoked Spanish paprika (optional – but really adds depth)
1/2 teaspoon black pepper, freshly ground
Pinch of finely ground red pepper flakes, cayenne, or Aleppo pepper flakes (optional, for spice lovers!)
Secret Salad:
1 golden or orange bell pepper, seeded and finely chopped
1 cucumber, peeled, seeded, and finely chopped
2 ribs celery, finely chopped
2 Tablespoons freshly chopped parsley OR basil OR cilantro OR mint
1 Tablespoon freshly chopped chives or scallions
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon or orange zest (optional)
2 Tablespoons high quality “finishing” extra virgin olive oil (your best oil!)
Garnish (optional):
Diced avocado, hard-cooked chopped egg, croutons, toasted pumpkin or sunflower seeds, feta cheese, roasted corn.
Method: Gazpacho
Preheat oven to 350 degrees and place rack near the top of the oven. On a foil-lined baking sheet, roast tomatoes and shallot for 20 minutes on convection (or 375 degrees in a standard oven). After ten minutes, add the unpeeled garlic and cook until papery skin is flecked with gold and garlic is fragrant. Remove tomatoes from oven and gently (with a large spoon) transfer to a ceramic or glass bowl to cool; shallot and garlic can be placed on a separate plate to cool, then peeled.
When tomatoes are cool, peel skins off as best you can, working over a bowl to catch all the juices.
In a food processor or blender, blend tomatoes, roasted shallot, roasted peppers, garlic and balsamic vinegar until almost smooth. Add in paprika, pepper and salt; adjust to taste. Add olive oil and process in a few short bursts. Allow to set in the refrigerator for a few hours, then season to taste once again.
Method: Secret Salad
In a bowl, combine the finely chopped fresh bell peppers, cucumber, celery, herbs, chives, citrus zest and 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Toss gently, cover and refrigerate until ready to use. When ready, taste the tomato mixture and adjust with additional seasoning if necessary.
To assemble, divide the cucumber mixture into the bottom of bowls or (my favorite, big martini glasses). Pour the tomato mixture over the top and garnish with any or all of the optional ingredients, plus finely minced chives. Drizzle a touch of your best olive oil over the top just before serving.
Note: In the summertime, if you don’t want to heat up your home, simply “roast” the tomatoes and other veggies on your outdoor grill with the lid down. This lends great flavor and keeps the house cool!
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 or visit her website at YourKitchenRX.com
Roaring to life.
Original Leo watercolor by Read Gallo.
Romance: “Cat Calls”
Queer Fantasy by L.J. Longo
Part II of “Toreros” (Read Part I in the Dharma Direction May issue)
Read time: 10 minutes
Content Warning: mild language and slightly sexy
One of the great truths in economics can be summed up in one simple word…
Dissatisfaction.
Nothing is ever perfect enough. Once a goal is obtained, it loses luster, and the cycle of consuming begins again. To know we are happy, we must strive.
My phone pings. Without looking, I know Cam's sent another rental listing.
The man is relentless.
I glance at the property. Strategically located between my college and his law firm. Priced just under the budget he tricked me into giving him… by making me drink half a bottle of wine and distracting me with the promise of a promiscuous romp. Relentless and entirely too clever.
I should have dated a himbo—
One of the NFL hopefuls who hang out at the college gym.
One of the long-haired surfers who play guitar in the quad.
Should have gone for that poetry professor from the Netherlands.
Anyone really, except this lawyer from South America.
This lawyer from South America who rejected me when I first asked him out. How dare Cam question that I am God's gift to men.
Damn, this house even has a little alcove for my books.
Curiouser and Curiouser
I put my phone on my desk and purposefully don't respond.
Cam's stubbornness is my fault. I'm the idiot who wanted change.
And I wasn't wrong. Two months ago, I was feeling my age. First gray hairs, too early. More aches than I could explain away easily. The idea of mortality made me lonely, and I was too old for the boys in the bar and too young to be content with solitude. Uncertain if I meant anything at all to the handsome, rich man who used me as his personal gigolo. Displeased that I used him the same way. Unsure if I could change it.
Back then, those long two months ago, I'd wanted nothing more than for Cam to send me pictures of neat little houses to rent together. For him to be invested in sharing a bed, a life, a dog. I dreamed of spending my summers as the house-husband to a rich, powerful man who wore rainbow ties on the ferry without a trace of flamboyance or shame.
So what if I made him commit?
Does that make me a bad person if now I think I might want something different?
I have doubts. Not about Cam. But about…
This is foolish.
I pick up my phone to study the rental house again. Looking for something to hate. It strikes me that I'm swiping through these realtor's photos the same way I used to swipe through Grindr.
Oh, a magnolia tree. Cute.
I put the phone away again, still not answering Cam.
Life for Rent
I have tests to grade. It's tedious and unthoughtful work, but I take a certain smug satisfaction from failing the little shits who don't pay attention.
I sympathize with the young person who wants to be a damn economist and can't spell 'scarcity.'
One of them writes a simplistic evaluation of the main principles of rational choice theory. I wonder if it seems so pathetic because I myself have been thinking so much about choice and free will and societal expectation and… and… and…
I put the tests away and reach for my phone to say, 'Yes! That house looks great. Let's look at it tonight and pick out curtains!’
I leave it on the desk and get up to stretch instead.
Maybe only idiots are content. Maybe all those people only look content. If they do…
At least they have the common sense to keep their suspicions secret and be happy.
My father—a red-neck homophobic bastard who would have shot Cam for stepping on his lawn if he hadn't drunk himself and his truck over a bridge—only tried to give me one piece of advice.
He'd bought a new truck over the winter, but in a Southern summer, he took me to a car lot to window-shop the pickup trucks. I could not, for my life, understand why we had come to the sunbaked asphalt hellscape. Or why I should pretend to be interested in horse-pressure or tire-powerage or whatever so impressed him.
Certainly, I prompted him. I can't imagine my father volunteering any information on his own. But all I remember was him looking at me with absolute earnestness. He spoke like he was speaking the words of God: "Ray, once you've got the thing you want, you've got to want something better. That's the American way."
Even at the time, I'd known it was terrible advice and a road map to longing and endless, empty consumerism. But somehow, to spite me, I'd internalized his ideal path. The father had imprinted on the son this treacherous need to chase the next best thing, to have what no one else—including myself—had.
My obsession with materialism made it even worse because I shunned what I could buy and chased after ephemeral spiritual prey.
Getting off this road to nowhere—to rest on my laurels by the side—will require a push.
My phone rings.
If anyone is persistent enough to bully me out of my worldview, it will be Cam.
"Did you see the rental I sent you?" His voice tones like a little straightforward symphony, an orchestra that knows it's in tune and delivering the right song.
I can't help but tease him. "Well, hello, lover. How are you today? I'm fine, thanks for asking."
Cam makes a little snorting chuff, unapologetic for skipping pleasantries. I had also teased him for that brief moment when he tried to learn pleasantries. "Look at it and tell me what you think?"
"Why now? Let's look at it later tonight." I put him on speaker and scroll over the photos again. Later on, if I can't find anything to hate and I still don't want to deal with getting the thing I want, I can always distract him with sex.
"No, because you'll do that thing where you flirt instead of answer the questions, and then we get nowhere."
I pretend to be sour. "In bed isn't nowhere."
Cam doesn't know what to say to that. I spent the first half of our dating life refusing to sleep with him until we knew each other better. Then I spent the second half of our dating life trying to walk that back… sleeping only with him.
It's his turn to throw me off. "Have you ever seen Cats?"
"What? A cat?"
"No, Cats,” Cam says. “The musical?"
"I'm an economist from Texas. No." Then the image strikes me of Cam, my Cam, this stern block of Hispanic masculinity, going to the theater and watching people frolic in skin-tight fur suits. "Have you?"
"There's a song in there about a cat who… how do they say it… 'always on the wrong side of every door' and…" He hits on the word he's looking for. "Disobliging. You're being disobliging."
"Do you learn all your fancy words from musical theater?" I tease him. "You must be careful. People will start thinking you're gay."
"What's wrong with that house, Ray?"
It just seems so… basic now. So predictable. So constraining. A house together. Inescapable.
You can't walk away from that kind of choice. It closes paths in the future.
And in the words of the Rum Tum Tugger, who of course is the cat in question, 'I only like what I find for myself.'
Rum Tum Tugger (screenshot by DeviantArt) - From the Broadway musical Cats, a rebellious Jellicle feline who loves to be the center of attention.
Risky Business
"Ray?" His tone lets me know he will wait until I answer. He learned it from me since I use it on my students. "Why aren't we renting that house right now?"
I know the answer at once and like a good student, I answer boredly. "Psychological risk. It is not harmonious with the consumer's perception of self. My spiritual capital is at stake."
I expect to stump him, but Cam hums as if he understands, reevaluates, and comes at it from another angle. I wonder if he only loses his temper when he doesn't know what he wants. "What about… oh, you were talking about this a few nights ago… opportunity risk?"
That bastard. How dare he listen to me when I babble about economics? Am I not already enough in love with him?
Cam goes on. "Aren't you worried about missing out on the opportunity? Look at the yard. It has a magnolia tree. You like those trees."
I do like the tree. I can see myself grading these tests in the shade of the big leaves, smelling the sharp tinge of the flowers all through the spring and fall. Even when there was snow, it would be a huge leafy green thing to cheer me.
"I mean, if you're not comfortable," Cam's tone changes suddenly, apologetic, worried he's pushed too hard, breaking something fragile between us. As if our relationship were delicate china that he would crush in his big hands. "I'll stop bringing it up. We could keep… living separately."
Same habits. Same road. Forever driving toward nothing.
No rest without this decision, without this choice to be satisfied with what I have.
To settle in and protect it instead of chase it.
"OK. Let's go have a look. Can you schedule an appointment?"
"Sure. I have the realtor's hours in front of me." Cam's like a little child in his excitement. "How's six tonight?"
"Sounds good." I glare at the tests since I now have a deadline, and that makes me less inclined to grade. I look at the phone to distract myself in this new dream, then I realize. "Wait, Cam, this is a rent-to-own property."
I can hear his grin. "I'm an optimist, and I love you. See you at six, Ray."
Son of a bitch.
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. She recently received Third Place recognition for her submission to the Writer’s Digest Annual Short Story Fiction Contest with her entry titled, "To Harvest Lavender."
Connect to L.J. on Facebook, L.J.'s Twitter page, or L.J. on Instagram.
Fire me up.
Energy: “Fuel for Life”
Personal Essay by B.E.S.T. Certified Practitioner Anja Dubberke
Read time: 4+ minutes
Known for being warmhearted and passionate, it should come as no surprise that Leo is a Fire sign. A force to be reckoned with, fire is an element that shows up in many areas of our day-to-day lives. Fire can be dangerous and yet, we can also see it in its beautiful form of divine magnificence.
I didn’t realize that I had a fascination with fires until I moved to Alaska four years ago. There is a feeling of deep satisfaction and gratitude that arises from starting a fire… one that continuously glows while I make a hot cup of coffee, admiring the sun as it comes up on chilly fall mornings. In contrast, during the winter months, there’s nothing better than experiencing the comfort and coziness that a fire puts out when nursing the wood stove to heat our cabin.
Let me tell you, it’s not as easy as it looks to get a good burn going. I gained a lot of respect for fire learning to use what nature provides when on backpacking trips—like birch bark when starting a campfire. I simply love it!
Fire also happens to be the smallest, proportionately speaking, of the five elements in our bodies. They are…
Earth…Water…Fire…Air…Ether
Our stomach holds this fire. This is where digestion happens. A healthy metabolism runs through the entire body only if fire can transform into energy. Into fuel.
Sun Soaked
The sun is a huge ball of fire that fuels life on our planet. In its fundamental root: FIRE IS FUEL. And this is where the magic happens.
Fuel is what makes machines work—no matter if you call it wood, petrol, coal, electricity, whatever. It’s the heat that’s generated that keeps the machine running. The same principle applies to our physical body.
Without fire we are cold… or dead.
When I experienced my first Alaskan winter after moving from Miami, I was so paranoid I would freeze to death that I managed to heat the cabin up to 95 degrees. More firewood is not always better. LOL! Now, I can keep a fire going so it cooks a perfect steak then flickers throughout the night, keeping the cabin toasty warm.
Even when we know how to control fire, there’s a sweet spot where control can be taken over in a blink of an eye by the flame. The same holds true for the fire inside your body that is responsible for the intensity of emotions.
After the Burn
The emotion of anger has a fiery quality to it, and undigested anger can manifest physically as stomach ulcers, diabetes, allergies, and more. The lower back, digestive systems, stomach, liver, diaphragm, and gallbladder can all be impacted when the fire element is out of balance.
Looking at anger more closely, you might be surprised to find that sadness and fear are underneath that vibration of anger. The good news is, the power of fire can transmute anger into passion and spontaneity, allowing life to flow as it’s intended. If we let go of control and embrace the feeling of anger…
Our acknowledgement will dissolve the emotion.
Our emotions are impacted by our wellbeing… on which we have a direct impact on. The quality of sleep we get, the rest we need, the food we put into our systems, the way we exercise, and the way we think are all contributors to how we live our lives.
When we live a healthy, balanced life, our fire burns continuously. It manifests in the physical form (our body) with a radiance that while subtle, glows undeniably toward the outside.
So, keep your fire strong for a long and healthy life.
And if you need tips on how to start a fire, or seek further guidance in how to balance your body with Bio Energetics, I invite you to contact me any time.
Mention that you read my article in Dharma Direction for a 25% discount on your first B.E.S.T. session.
Even small fires require proper attending. Anja stokes the stove in her customized, retro-fitted bus named “Bentley,” available to rent through Airbnb in Anchorage, Alaska.
Connect with Anja on Facebook or visit her LinkedIn page. Get more details about B.E.S.T. or schedule a consultation or treatment with Anja through her website: Bio-Energetic Reset.
Poet-Tree
A father's daughter.
From Dharma Direction’s publisher and editor, Debbie Abbott, is a simple poem she wrote for her father on his 68th birthday in 2010. This year, the Leo in her life celebrates 80 trips around his ruling planet, the sun. Happy Birthday, Jack… and many more!
Original poem by Debbie Abbott
Read time: 1 minute
Daddy’s Girl
Growing up I always knew
If things got rough, I could turn to you
Many times my tear-stained face
Sought your grace to put me back into place
Debbie and Daddy, circa 1964, Fairbanks, Alaska.
A place where a girl
Knows that her dad
Will love her always
Good times and bad
Calendar photo shoot, circa 1983: Jack in his hand-built roadster, Rodney, cruising by to pick Debbie up from school, Mesa, Arizona.
Nobody's perfect
Try though we will
Lead by example
Yet humble still
This has always been your way
And it made me who I am today
All grown up, I know my dad
With moral compass true and heart in hand
Debbie and Jack at the top of the Empire State Building, July 2001, two months before the terrorist attack that took down the Twin Towers (visible in background).
He is devoted
Loving, sincere
I know that I AM
Blessed that he is here
~ Written August 12, 2010
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 publisher and editor of Dharma Direction.
Connect with Debbie on Facebook, through Debbie's Twitter page or visit Debbie on Instagram.
Music
“Small wheel turning by the fire and rod / Big wheel turning by the grace of God / Every time that wheel turn round / Bound to cover just a little more ground”
“The Wheel” by Jerry Garcia
Jerry Garcia, Leo birthday: August 1, 1942
Playlist: Leo
This month’s playlist runs the gamut of songs revolving around or relating to our featured zodiac: Leo, the Lion. From Leo artists like Jerry Garcia, Whitney Houston, Martina McBride, and Madonna its easy to see their lion-like personas shine through their craft.
Please enjoy Dharma Direction’s playlist for August. Keep in mind that the playlist on YouTube changes each month to focus on the current Zodiac. This month’s songs are listed below ~
“Big Wheel” - Tori Amos
“Life for Rent” - Dido
“The Lion Sleeps Tonight” - The Tokens
“Vogue” - Madonna
“The Rum Tug Tugger” - Cats, the musical
“Leo” - Be Steadwell
“Sean” - Foo Fighters
“Lion’s Den” - Zac Brown
“Thank U” - Alanis Morissette
“Buddha” - Jack Johnson
“Rocky Mountain High” - John Denver
“I Have Nothing” - Whitney Houston
“Love Will Turn You Around” - Kenny Rogers
“In the Mood” - Robert Plant
“The Wheel” - Jerry Garcia
“God’s Will” - Martina McBride
The Reading Dingy
Boats for Books
A fun idea to encourage kids to read, as seen on Pinterest from: TargetTeachers.
See what our contributors are reading now, what they recommend, or what’s on their “must read” list. Our picks may be new releases, forever favorites, hidden gems, or classics we can’t wait to read again. If we love it, we’ll let you know here!
Color Therapy: Leo
FREE Downloadable/Printable — just get your crayons, pencils, pastels, or paints and right-click the image below.
Leo People
