I put out this topic to the Talk Thursday group at a time when I struggled with basic life functions, like breathing and drinking. I didn’t know what I would write and I put out the topic as an anchor, as a placeholder for a better, healthier, more solid time. I put it out there and had faith that my mind, body, and soul would listen and cooperate. I'm not sure how I'd measure success.
The world of tarot is the world of archetypes. We know our world and we know our lives by constant comparisons from within and without, above and below, to our left or to our right, people/things/events that are bigger, taller, thinner, smaller, etc., than ourselves. Our perceptions range from truth to exaggeration, from simple honesty to harsh judgments, from compassion to self-nullifying forgetfulness. We are on life’s path. We are our path. Every archetype and metaphor we encounter or rediscover or relearn are roadmarks along the way.
In the world of tarot, the Sun is about full faith, about communion, about being one with the universe. In the Judeo-Christian world, the Sun is God and the source of life and light. The Moon is a closer astral body, but the light and lessons are diffused, reflected, and everchanging. The Moon is about cycles, intended or otherwise. The Moon is feminine, secretive, and sacred. The third astral card is the Star, which is about hope and prayer. The light of the Star comes from far away, from a time long ago. The Star speaks to us when we let our inner voices be quiet and look up and out of ourselves.
I brought my cards and runes with me over the weekend, but I did not do readings for myself or anyone. One night before I went to bed, I just held them and let myself remember the thousands of times I spread the cards face down in front of me and let my hands pass over the cards, or do readings and guide a querent to shuffle and trust themselves and let them pull the card that called to them. The medium (cards or runes) didn’t matter. Neither the metaphor itself nor their “story” mattered. The true lesson was in how we chose to trust ourselves or not, in how we chose to listen to our message to ourselves, in how we live or die a little bit every day. Our past helps frame where we are and helps suggest where we’re going. We gauge our progress based on our battles and conflicts. One cannot live and remain a blank slate: these life metaphors are our roadmarkers, signs, and scars.
I had to lose faith in myself to find it. I had to go through my own cycle of forgetting and remembering. I had to be silent to listen to myself. I had to find hope and mystery through tenuous far-away light (which is even more ironic and goddamn hysterical, considering how night-blind I am). I had to die a little bit and get the hell scared out of me to engage and live again.
**Originally posted on April 19, 2012, but the sentiments remain the same today.**