I've been fascinated with Gypsy culture since...well, as long as I can remember.
A clothes hamper full of dress up clothes in our basement held several crocheted ponchos, long flowy things, belts, scarves and a world full of glamour in the mind of this little girl. Gauzy, lacey, and bold, rich colors. Heaven! I remember being whooped for stealing some giant costume pieces of jewelry from a lovely older lady who used to babysit for me (Sorry Mrs.P!) I guess at age 5 I already knew I needed the bling to make the outfits complete. Shiny. Mmm...pretty.
Make-up, bangles and tassels. Bliss!
Fast forward a few years.
I grew up in a small town, the population was 222 when I lived in Middle River, MN. I believe it's up to 303 now! We had 17 total students in our class. There were only a few of us 'city kids'. Everyone else lived in the country, so we were pretty tight. Kathy was one of those city kids, although it was always debatable, since she was about 1/4 mile out of town and it was quite a longer bike ride to her house. Kid logic! But, for the most part, even though her family had the biggest chicken farm EVER, we called her city kid.
Kathy's birthday fell on October 30th, and it was truth and fact that every year we celebrated her birthday on Halloween with trick or treating followed by a sleepover. This was not just understood, it was an event. This was true through junior high. (Don't judge...we were small town kids, and this was, as I stated before, an EVENT.)
Now, I can't remember all the details, but I know there was some small drama about just how many gypsies were acceptable at her parties. And I was nervous.
When the talk of a potential gypsy quota arose, I recall a feeling of urgency, I HAD to be gypsy. The fortune teller. Thankfully, I did survive. Whew.
Fast forward again.
After years of decorating and dressing as I had been taught was 'normal', my divorce and journey into self provided the opportunity to toss tradition out the window and spice up my wardrobe and dwelling. I adorned long, flowy skirts, bangles and scarves. Lacy, bejeweled shawls and table coverings donned the walls of my apartment. Peacock feathers, sequins and rich, velvety fabric are NECESSARY for comfort in my current world.
Today, as I'm scrolling through some of the countless Facebook pages dedicated to all things Gypsy, I notice tears rolling down my cheeks.
Aged pictures of women with long, layered skirts, vests, heavy makeup and jewelry - Remembering.
Traveling wagons with beads, heavy drapes and lace - Homesick.
Circles of women in celebration of self, uncaring of society's labels, free and alive - Loneliness.
It is in that moment, when I allow myself to feel the emotions come up and identify them, that I make (what might seem obvious, but hasn't been until now) a connection. I've always known that I would do what I am doing today. I would BE a Gypsy. I am a fortune telling gypsy, and have been that fortune-telling gypsy since I was a little girl. And yes, I have likely been a fortune telling gypsy in previous lifetimes before.
I was drawn to palm reading 20 years ago. Never, when I was still working in the 'normal' world, did I see that I'd be doing it for a living. When I was still in fear of my calling, and tried to fit in, life never felt good. I suffered terrible bouts of depression and anxiety. I walked the walk others wanted me to walk, and my heart wept the tears of a caged animal. I sought drama and chaos, not intentionally, but subconsciously, because I was bored in a life that didn't *fit*.
Today, I am overwhelmingly, profoundly grateful for my unique life. When I do not live my truth...I suffer. When I do live my truth...I soar.
See...
I AM Gypsy. Seer. Healer. WildWoman. Goddess. Bohemian. Witch. Non-Conformer. Flower Child. Roamer. Seeker. Priestess. Free Spirit. SHE is my calling, and I am SHE.
These fierce, strong women have been labeled, condemned and feared. Their power and ownership of SELF is daunting and frightening to those who would have women tamed. I will never be tamed. I walk my life freely, authentically and unapologetically. I AM Gypsy.
