LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): I have imaginary friends who help me. And yes,
they sometimes even give me ideas for your horoscopes. Are you OK with
that? Among the many other perks my secret buddies provide, they show
me where my cell phone and car keys are when I’ve misplaced them — a
prime sign of their practical value. What’s your current status in regards
to imaginary friends, Leo? Do you even have any? This would be an
excellent time to seek them out and put them to work. In fact, I
encourage you to do anything that might attract the input of
undiscovered allies, behind-the-scenes collaborators, mysterious guidance,
and divine assistance.  (from Rob Brezny’s Free Will Astrology)

imaginary friends are always a good idea. my imaginary cigarette gremlin helped me quit smoking (like, a bunch of times!), and I used an imaginary version of myself to ease the pain of saying and doing awkward things, WAAAAAAAAAY back when I said and did awkward things (I know it’s probably hard to imagine).  I would just pat Awkward Kendal on the head as if she were a silly kid who sometimes says the darnedest things, and things would instantly get less terrible.  Sometimes we went for ice cream afterward, instead of plummeting into a rabbit hole decorated with illustrations from the book of Why Kendal is a Bad Person.  Imaginary creatures have helped me out before, and I really could use a few now.

I’m about to do something so scary, which I haven’t done by myself  in a long time – move into a place where I will be expected to hand over large sums of money each month in exchange for some hundreds of square feet to live in, because my wee one needs a room of her own, and so does her mama. Questions are swirling in my head, like how will I pay the rent every month, and why now that I’m taking a day off work every week to work on “art” stuff, and is it stupid to rent the first place i’ve seen? Well, yeah. As for the last question, it’s not stupid when you walk through the door and the first thing you see are TREES out the window. And then you look at the bedrooms and guess what!? MORE TREES IN THE BACK! A whole parcel of woods, in fact! And that’s what I’ve dreamed of – a quiet little home in the woods. Even if the paint job is ugly, there is a year’s worth of dust on the ceiling fans, and the bathtub “update” looks a little sketchy. I know that when I go back in that apartment, I’ll see a bunch of things I didn’t notice the first time, it’ll either look smaller or darker, and I’ll get scared all over again. What the heck are we doing?

So I summon the imaginary friends, from the imaginary friendship committee. Calling upon the following, to be my future flatmates and help me to navigate through the terrifying waters of independence. To help me make life sweet for my own dependent.

Firstly, I call Charleyhorse the Divine Cephalopod, as a warning against overextending any muscle too far in one direction without flexing in an equally opposite direction…Charley is my patron saint of multitasking, the ultimate creative working mother. One tentacle stirs the soup. One writes a magazine article. One or two for playing music, two more for spinning the yarn or knitting the gifts, and two for hugging Edie. She dives into the deep for ideas and comes to me when it’s time to work. She reminds me I don’t have to choose between the things I love, I can just grow 3 more pairs of arms and imagine my brain is as huge as hers.

Next, I’d like to befriend a tiny but powerful leprechaun, for the obvious reason that leprechauns know how to increase wealth. I don’t want money for nothing, but for each task that is carried out with love and attention to draw wealth into my life like a magnet. I think that’s why the gold is usually stashed where it is, because chasing rainbows is a labor of love and those patient enough to wait for the right pinch of rain to refract the perfect angle of sunlight, and then follow the ray to its natural conclusion, should probably run into a little treasure. On the days when there is only rain I will make rainbow soup with gold carrot coins to entice the leprechaun to join us for dinner and please, stay awhile. Maybe he’d like his own bed to pass out in after I pour him too much guinness and question him about everything he knows.

There is a third friend…I almost forgot.  Maybe the most important silly friend.  A little Bee.  This Bee will appear before me when I need to remember to just Be.  Here.  Now.  This.  Yes.  When thoughts get overthunk and sunk deep into the well worn tracks of mind…when I am bumping elbows and knees on things that are there but unseen because my brain is staring and staring at what isn’t but could be, or what was and always will be.  When I stare too long at the endless ticker tape of status updates and friend of friend befriendings that are so eerily captivating but senseless to hold in mind… Bee shows up.  Bee throws herself against the lightbulb again and again until mine switches  on and I can remember again that the flat screen world is less real than the bumpy “wiggly” world we live in, just as a lightbulb is not very much the sun.

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