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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?  |
| 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. |
| Believe IV It is almost dark as I make my way to the pond's edge. Have others seen her, my mermaid, Sybylla? I cannot know as I hide the knowledge of her existance from others. Perhaps from myself as well. This odd veiled mermaid is my psychopomp. She ferrys me back and forth between this world and non-ordinary reality. Today is J.S. Bach's birthday. Bach's music transports, too. At the water's edge I ask, "Alexa, play J.S. Bach." The sublime music plays for a moment and then she jumps in an arc, her face unveiled, her hair shimmering with phosphorescent plankton, and returns in a silent dive to the depths of the pond. Does a psychopomp have a psychopomp? Pholarchos Tarot--Trail of Coral--In water you will be led to explorations of the depths, love, and beauty.  |
| Believe III Lately I have seen more birds coming to the lake. There have always been the Muscovy ducks, but today there are two moorhens and an anhinga. I am waiting for her to surface from the lake. In addition to the microgreens I bring I have started bringing bits of my homemade bread. Water, flour, sea salt and yeast. I have often made it with boiled water from the Gulf. But the beaches are closed and sea salt will do. When my bread seed poppies have flowered and gone to seed I will add those to the mixture. To break bread has always represented socialization and community, but now in these times of Covid-19 it must be done symbolically or virtually. I feel I ripple in the pond before I see her come to the shelf of shelf of sand separating the water from the grass. Today she has parted the black veil usually covering her face. I am startled by the cold, aquamarine blue of her eyes and her copper hair laced with white. Using her finger as a pencil she scrawls a word in the sand, "Sybylla". "My name," she states . I offer her the bread, and greens, some grapes, and a Lady of Guadalupe rose that I have cut from our bush this morning. She takes my gifts and shimmies away. It is a fine communion. The Cook's Tarot--Four of Wands--You are free to move around the cabin.   |
| Believe II There is a boy and his grandfather fishing at the edge of the retention pond. Their chance of snagging anything is about as likely as catching a leprechaun and having him lead you to his pot of gold. They stay for a moment and then as expected leave with an empty pail. I know eventually she will appear. I have never seen the color of her eyes, her face shrouded by her veil. I have been bringing her microgreens, baby lettuces and bok choy that I grow hydroponically. "Like the shamrocks in Ireland," she chortled. "But better than the flies and larvae in this pond," she managed to say. She surfaces with merely a ripple. I place the greens at the ponds edge. The Muscovy ducks scatter when she appears. She tells me she is veiled because she is trying to renounce her human side and be only part of the finned world. And today she orders me, "Breathe. This virus attacks the lungs. Because your world id destroying the rainforests, the lungs of the world." She takes my offerings and goes back to the depths of the pond. I smell cypress, and fresh mowed grass, Breath in, Breath out. Pholarchos Tarot-- 10 of Wings--In this grand experiment of life can the mind be wide enough to accept all things?  |
| Believe The lake, a retention pond really, quivers oddly tonight. A splash, a ripple, a breath, and there she is. Mermaid, old, a black veil covering her face. She extends a hand dripping with mud. "I'll leave you with just one thing," she rasps. She slithers back under the murky water. On the bank, in the weeds, a carved stone, "Believe". 61 Words  |
| Corona I fear this virus. I am not smooth and twenty. I am old and panic rips and roars.. I pray to Our Lady of Lost Things her crown askew, like mine. Lift me up enough to see the far view. Gift me enough blessings to sing. I sit in the dirt and watch the March full moon rise between my rosary beads. Who will help? How can I help? The floor of our world falls away. 13 lines Gaian Tarot--3 of Earth--What medicine are you making for your community.  |
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