What could I write, after Monday?
Last night in the pub, people who had woken up to the news of the attack in Manchester – our city – shared stories, feelings, philosophies, and perhaps a little too much wine. We needed it.
This morning, feeling slightly worse for wear, I opened my emails – and found this beautiful post by Carrie Mallon:
“meditating with the Ace of Cups can allow you to hold space for ALL of your feelings. It is okay to feel overwhelmed, anxious, sad, and depressed. Denying difficult emotions is quick way to allow them to become toxic. This card offers you an alternative, which is to let all of your feelings flow. Let them move through you, let yourself experience each feeling fully and completely. It is often this simple act of feeling your feelings that cleanses your soul and allows you to move forward refreshed.”
You make a choice, plant your intentions like staves in the ground – and suddenly the path appears before you. It leads away into the future. You stand gazing out at the horizon, poised to take the first step…
For the past several days I’ve been writing in my journal rather than online, but this is a draw I’d like to keep more visible, so I can refer back to it without rooting around in my huge stash of random notebooks. All very apt for The Emperor, a card of order, structure and control over resources.
She sits enthroned on a mountaintop with the dawn breaking behind her, eyes closed, holding a double-edged sword with her hand on its blade.
The Queens, as I have been learning, can symbolise internal mastery – this Queen of Swords has taken the lessons of her suit and made them part of who she is. Her closed eyes show her inward focus. Her hand on the blade almost reminds me of the traditional Strength card: she is not afraid of its razor edge, she is confident in her mastery of it. The tip of the blade points upwards, and reminds me of the saying “You don’t always have to chop with the sword of truth. You can point with it too.”
In the background of this card, a tree grows on a mountain ledge. It looks almost like a bonsai, gnarled and twisted by exposure to the elements, but still a beautiful, mature tree. It’s a lovely visual metaphor for the inner mastery of this suit of sorrow.
there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. — Hamlet, Act II Scene 2
Years ago, when I found myself fascinated by tarot, I came across the superstition that you should never buy your own first deck – it should just somehow find its way into your possession. So I waited and waited, feeling frustrated, playing with online cards and dropping huge hints to anyone who’d listen (ridiculous, right?).
Luckily, one day a wonderful friend sent me a little package containing the Druidcraft Tarot deck, along with a magpie card which I still keep in the box. It seems particularly apt to draw the 6 of Pentacles from a deck which was given as a gift.