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 |   My blog--I pull a card--if it doesn't speak to me...perhaps it is for you? |
I pull a card...if it doesn't speak to me...perhaps it was meant for you?    How to Read the Tarot Begin by brewing a cup of tea, a nervine, lemon balm or chamomile, this is after all, your future. A reading at the dark of the moon is best, before the night creatures crawl and bad humours fill the air. Pick a circular deck, with a fairy-tale motif, and no reversals. Hold a question in your heart, shuffle the cards and place them on the table. Choose only two. Like the ancient Israelites, these are your seer stones, Urim and Thumimm, black and white, yes or no. Isn't that all you were asking?  |
| Witches Night Walpugisnacht not in clock time we stalk old gods. Walpurgisnacht is the eve of May Day.. Traditionally witches are said to gather, celebrate, cast spells for health and prosperity. I will be celebrating virtually on Facebook tonight. This is a Than-Bauk poem. 3 lines of 4 syllables. The 3rd syllable of the 2nd line rhymes with the 4th syllable of the 1st line, and the 2nd syllable of 3rd line rhymes with the initial rhyme. It is a sublimely grey and stormy day as if Mother Earth is saying----Not yet time to open the beaches. Cook's Tarot--3 of Cups---Water is life. |
| The World is Your Oyster You only think you are alone. The world is full of oracles. Wings, stones, fin and fur dance together. 4 lines--25 syllables Pholarchos Tarot-21--World--All our dreaming has been aligning a new birth. |
| Believe VI I never call Sybylla, my veiled mermaid, directly. I wait till she approaches me. But tonight I am tired and broken and I go the pond and softly call her name. I want to scream but don't want to disturb the neighbors, or the bear that has been roaming our community and rummaging our trash cans. I have my rosary made of Job's tears and I pray and cry as silently as I can. I am crying for the dead caused by this virus, and for their loved ones. I am praying for the front-line doctors and nurses. I am crying for myself because I am selfish and scared. Sybylla says nothing. But she is singing, in a voice reaching to the farthest stars. "Ave Maria", she sings, "gratia plenar." Her voice encircles me, the neighbors, the wandering bear. A community of beings. She finishes and returns back to the depths of the pond. I finish my rosary, still silently weeping. I believe.... Pholarchos Tarot--20-Judgement--The eye of every species is on you now.   |
| Easter 2020 Easter is cancelled The wheel-of-the year continues to turn. I watch the sun rise, leave treats of seed for the rabbits and ducks. A retired minister walks our community blessing bread and wine left on our driveways. The roots of plants dig deeper seeking water that is harder to find. The Earth's ley lines bleed, tectonic seams shift. We ask: What's next? The sun shines. Pholarchos Tarot--19--Sun--Whatever you do in life, find your essence and be true to it. |
| Believe V It was just a day in April, but it is the night of the pink full moon. In Naples, the tababouia trees are blossoming with their golden flowers and, as always, the neon bougainvillea, splashy with amethyst and ruby blooms. As the full moon rises I go to the pond's edge, this man-made retention pond, and I am serenaded by frog song and bathed in the glow of reflected television light. I fall deeply into this night, in this time of pandemic, and think that Death is just a fall into the Great Night. Sybylla, my mermaid, my psychopomp surfaces. I am masked as she is veiled. She came to this pond to escape the Gulf's toxic algae and now there is this air-borne virus. She does not know if creatures like her are vulnerable to this new threat. She doesn't speak tonight but circles and circles, creating labyrinths within labyrinths on the water's surface. I enter the spirals and sense land mass changes through the ages and see teachers that work with the Other Side. How many turnings and patterns can I float in at once? Deep in my heart I hear and feel the pull of the sea. I place palm fronds at the water's edge, an homage to a deferred Palm Sunday. Sybylla lifts the fronds and swims back to the depths. May resurrection come to us all. The Cook's Tarot--18--We are our choices.   |
| Out Damn Spot Lady Macbeth's hands couldn't lave the ugly blood of an innocent. Can our useless hands scrub away the dank remains of kleptocracy? I didn't lick the stamp. Prompt: a historical or theatrical prop A chained haiku--sort of. |
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