In the 1970s, when I wrote sporadically for a downtown paper, I used to drink wine with the editor and passionately plot astrological murder mysteries, which I never did get around to writing.  My editor-friend was bemused by my detective-astrologer, whom he dubbed an “antic mantic”.  “Mantic?” I asked.  “You don’t know the word? Look it up,” he replied.  So I did; and discovered, belatedly, that that is what I am.

A mantic.  According to The Free Dictionary, “Of, relating to, or having the power of divination; prophetic.”  From the Greek word mantikos, meaning seer.  You betcha.  I LIVE in the realm of divination.

Tarot.  Runes.  Oracles.  And above all, astrology, which I’ve been studying since I was 12.  Why do I do it?  Because I want to know why people do what they do.  Why I make the choices I make, and why I came into the world with THIS PARTICULAR set of traits and habitudes.  I learned that I could help others struggling to know themselves and to make sense of a confusing world.

Along the way I have met some extraordinary people, who have taught me a great deal about life and love and ultimately about myself; but never more than that chance remark made by my editor.  

Mantic.  What a beautiful word.