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Did I ever tell you about the time my car broke down while getting on to the highway with that ninety-two-year-old grandmother?
At this point, I was feeling that bone-tired feeling that every web page told me about. I didn’t want to do anything; luckily, at the same time, I was caring for an elder whose days were the same rinse and repeat, so it actually suited my current state.
My body wasn’t just exhausted, it also had been acting out for the past month. This growing physical disturbance began after I hosted a women's luncheon at my partner's almost-finished property. It was a day where I had displayed “decks on the decks.” I took Tarot cards and flowers and created four areas for women to connect to themselves and each other. There was the Self Love Lounge, the Burn Down What Doesn’t Serves Fire Pit, the What I Bring to the Table-Table, and the Cloud Nine Manifestation Couch. This was where my light shone brightest—connecting women and empowering them to see themselves more clearly.
As soon as the luncheon was over, I was sitting up against the house, my legs outstretched, pulling my own cards the same way I had everyone else do it. That’s how I worked: I led the workshop, and then I did the work on my own, alone. It was how it had to be. A hostess doesn’t just sit and have dinner: she serves. And this was how I served the world. First them, then me.