“In the beginning was the Word.” Yes, we’ve all read that. Although I’m not sure precisely what that Word was—does anybody know?—I’m pretty sure that Word started the process of creation. It was an active Word. A powerful Word. A Word that got things done.
I modestly propose another creative, active, powerful Word. ZZZAAAZZZ. It actively and powerfully creates parking spaces for us. Although I have always believed this Word just somehow came to me, my son has recently said that he once heard it from one of his high school buddies. I dunno. I’ve been using the Magical Parking Space Word for maybe thirty years. I’ve been writing for the Llewellyn Publications annuals since about 2004 and have put the Magical Parking Space Word (with its own spell) in the last three Llewellyn Spell-a-Day Almanacs. I get positive responses from readers all over the U.S. The Word is spreading. Continue reading “The Highly-Effective, Never-Fail, Magical Parking Space Word by Barbara Ardinger”

In a previous post on FAR I wrote about some of the
I’ll never forget the first time I heard
Early in my training at my current job, my boss explained our agency’s position on social justice and intersectionality to me: “When we center the margins in our work, everybody gets served.” Framed differently: When we expand the circle of who can access service, be treated with dignity, and have their humanity affirmed by others, those already within the circle get served, respected, and affirmed as well. Nobody gets excluded. Everyone gets support. In our work, we recognize that all oppressions are interlinked, and that you cannot effectively advocate for the abolition of one form of oppression without working to end them all.
For the Visionaries of the Women’s Movement and Beyond.
The other night I was invited out by a new friend to meet a group of his friends. It was a lovely gathering, and I felt welcomed. As we hugged good night outside the restaurant, one of the women commented, “Wow you really are tall.” Without missing a beat, I responded, “Yes it has been the bane of my life.” As the words tumbled out of my mouth I was aware that I spoke them dispassionately, not as is usual with a catch in my throat.
Event Update: This post was largely written before the Saturday shooting at the Chabad Synagogue in Poway, California. I have added a few sentences at the end of this post in light of this new sacred space violence.
When I was growing up, I was fascinated to see my father each day recite the morning blessings mandated for Jewish men. While the rest of the household bustled sleepily—my mother in the kitchen, my brother and I taking turns in the bathroom, my grandmother slowly getting dressed—my father, still in his pajamas, would stand in the center of our small living room, 

