Five Big Questions: Jane Ratcliffe

Plus, mini personalized tarot readings.

Today’s guest is the lovely

Jane Ratcliffe

, a writer whose work has appeared in places like O, The Oprah Magazine, The Sun, New England Review, The Huffington Post, and many others. She has also received Notable Mention in Best American Essays and Best American Short Stories.

Jane writes one of my very favorite newsletters, Beyond, where she publishes “long, intimate, old-school interviews” with amazing minds, including Maggie Smith, Ross Gay, and Lidia Yuknavitch, as well as essays from guest contributors. (Her interview with Cheryl Strayed helped me feel empowered to re-launch as a paid publication and is bursting with wonderful insights.) If you haven’t checked it out yet, I clearly recommend it!

Without further ado, here’s Jane, in her own words.

What’s one thing you struggle with that people might be surprised to hear?
I’m terrible at crying. I’m so deeply moved by so much in life, like to the bone moved, and am incredibly tender hearted. I’m often crying inside! But it’s rare the tears come out of my eyes. I’m not sure why I’m like this. I speculate that it’s because I was raised by two Brits who grew up in London during WWII. You know: stiff upper lip and they can bomb us but we’ll go out dancing and all that. I feel those beliefs coursing through my veins. Plus, I’m a Capricorn. And I lived on the Lower East Side for twenty-five years starting in the early eighties. I don’t know if any of that accounts for it. I try to cry more! I think crying is healthy!

What’s one thing you’re proud of?
That I’m alive. A freak accident led to head and brain injury that dramatically changed my life. As often happens with these sorts of injuries, while the early years were hell, the true depth of the symptoms didn’t kick in for about ten years, after which I was living with debilitating nonstop head pain, daily vertigo, severe memory loss (couldn’t find my way home if I were a street away), insomnia where I was awake for days on end, the thick, heavy sensation of being underwater, nonstop racing heart, and more.

I’d just moved from Manhattan to Michigan and had no local support community. My parents were in their eighties and did their best to help, but largely I was carrying this on my own. I would often go weeks without seeing another human; the isolation was brutal. I had to figure out my own healthcare, often walking away from doctors who wanted me to believe I had a bad case of anxiety (unfortunately, this is far too common for women); hold my own against family members who claimed I was faking everything for attention; feed and tend to myself and the animals who lived with me; work as best as I was able (often as I was teaching, the classroom was flipping and spinning, and I would have no idea how I got there or how I was getting home—but I somehow got ebullient student evaluations); and so much more. I was living second by second by second by second.

These were deeply terrifying years. Many friends, with the best of intentions, would encourage me to accept what was happening. But I couldn’t. I’m a fighter. For years, I boxed (grateful to have finally returned to it—it’s not how I was injured!). While I understood acceptance didn’t mean quitting, I couldn’t rein in my fighter. Nor did I want to.

As long as this answer is, it only lightly touches upon this experience. I’m so proud that I got myself through that. It took everything in me. But here I am, answering your thoughtful questions!

What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?
Well, in keeping with the theme of my health, I’d have to say Winston Churchill’s “never, never, never give up.” That quote sat on my desk all through the darkest years and I read it to myself multiple times a day.

What’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever read?
The first thing that comes to mind is waking up one morning in the throes of all that darkness and fear with a voice in my head saying over and again, I love you, Jane. I love you, Jane. I love you, Jane. It then happened every morning. I hadn’t been practicing affirmations or anything like that. It just rose naturally from somewhere deep within—and it changed the trajectory of, well, everything. I realize I didn’t read this; I heard it! And it was my own voice—which possibly makes me sound like a jerk for offering this as my answer. But for me, in those years, it was the most beautiful thing.

What is one consumable thing you recommend?
I just finished watching Season Two of The Bear and am gutted on every level. What a beautiful show. When I wasn’t figuratively guzzling bourbon from the stress, I was weeping (inside!) from the tenderness. The writing, the acting, the direction, the cinematography, the everything is beyond. It’s a fascinating peek into the back of house machinations in restaurants but it’s also such a gentle, elegant, nuanced portrayal of friendship. And family. My heart (and nervous system!) will never be the same.

Thank you so much, Jane. You are marvelous.

And now, for a midweek experiment…

The actual, physical deck that is waiting to give you a message.

Lately I’ve been craving more interaction, and am pondering ways to expand my offerings come fall. (Am considering a class and/or 1:1 tarot readings. I’ll keep you posted as things develop!)

For today, I thought it might be fun to open up the floor for mini tarot readings. If you’d like one, leave a comment below to let me know. I’ll pull a card just for you and reply with a quick impression of its message. Responses may not be instantaneous, but will happen as I am able. I’ll keep it open for the next 24 hours, through Thursday evening, Eastern Time! 😊

Necessary disclaimer: Readings are not predictive nor meant to serve as advice. They are simply a point of reflection (and something fun in the middle of the week). As always, take what resonates and leave the rest.

Let’s get to it! x