gemini rites #9
the spiritual significance of wearing underwear inside out
if you’re new here, welcome! every few weeks or so I write a more casual newsletter with creative updates, inspo, life happenings, silly things. historically I’ve been bad at regularly posting these, but I’m trying to make creativity into a full-time lifestyle, so I’m determined to be more consistent. in any capacity, thank you for being here.
~ also, I’m more active in general on the substack app ~
I.
Every day this week I’ve discovered, very late in the day, that my underwear is on inside out. It’s gotten the the point where I’ve (attempted) to take extra care in paying attention when getting dressed, but it’s still happening. Like at what point do I start ruling out pure absent-mindedness and call instead on the supernatural?
II.
Today I’m finishing week 5 of The Artist’s Way!! (Maybe my underwear situation is some kind of synchronicity. Julia Cameron, tell me what you think please).
I am feeling and thinking so many things, and I get the sense that my creative recovery is ramping up. My artist dates have been on Fridays (Venus day, very fitting). I’ve been loving the ritual of putting on a cute outfit, doing something fun solo, and gifting myself a little treat + spa vibes after.
This week the local modern art museum Kiasma was having their free admission day, so I went. Afterward I bought myself a carton of blackberries, ate them all, and Did Some Thinking.
III.
One of the exhibits at Kiasma was a gigantic sculpture of a used match. I didn’t take a picture of it, mostly because I was too busy blasting through time. Let me explain.
Years ago, probably 2018, I did an improv show with my beloved troupe, Humor Force Five. We were performing in the Barn Theater. I don’t remember what the scene was about or what character I was playing, but I do remember specifically that I needed to light a match. Instead of pantomiming this the usual way, I pretended to pick up a gigantic match, one that required both my arms. This imaginary match was heavy, and awkward to hold. But I struck it on one of the stage’s wooden supports, and the crowd went nuts. The act stands out in my mind because it was an example of the rare magic that sometimes happens when you do improv — creating something unexplainable that, in the moment, to the crowd and the performers, makes total sense.
I’ve been thinking about inspiration as a non-linear entity for the past few years already. I’ve gathered plenty of examples of proof. The title of my book, Godlike, Weeping, came to me a year before I wrote it — disjointed, nothing other than the two words appearing suddenly in my head.
Lately I can also see the influence of books I’ve read recently in writing that I did years ago.
It makes me wonder — did that giant match appear for me in 2018 because I saw it in 2025?
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