December 16, 2009 - Knight of Quills (Swords)

The Major Arcana in the Tarot mark profound, archetypal moments in life. We circle through them as we move from birth to death, spiral around them, slip backwards and forwards. When they show up in a reading, usually major events are afoot, the kind of things that transform you. The Minor Arcana, the suits of cups, wands, swords and pentacles, may echo the themes of the Majors, but in a daily way, the small losses, the small joys, the myriad changes, the ends and beginnings that mark our days. The Court cards though, have always proved more difficult for me to interpret. Am I this card? Should I be? Does it represent someone coming into my life? someone I already know? Is it an energy I should embrace or one I should beware of?

Today I picked the Knight of Quills (in the Jane Austen Tarot, swords in the Rider-Waite deck). In the Jane Austen Tarot, the Knight of Quills is depicted by Frank Churchill, a rich and handsome young man in Emma. Austen writes in Pride and Prejudice, "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife." Frank is a young, single man of good fortune and so, in Jane's world, his marital prospects become of primary importance to the women of Highbury. Frank is not single, though he pretends to be. He is secretly engaged to Jane Fairfax, a beautiful young woman of limited fortune. In the novel, he delights in teasing Jane, in pretending interest in other women. He is calculating and deceitful, not malicious as much as self-serving.

Air of Air is the astrological attribution of the Knight of Quills (Swords). He possesses speed, wit, intelligence, and a decided self-interest unleavened by emotional vulnerability. Which doesn't mean he doesn't love, only that he is deliberate and calculating, even in love. This isn't me, but I do know this Knight, loved this Knight, and found myself as devastated as Emma might have been had she fallen for Frank Churchill's charms.

So what does the Knight have to teach me? What has he come to say? "Take action. Move quickly and surely, with all your wits about you." Hmmmm. At a still point in my life, at the eye of the storm of the last few years, I can't seem to hear that still quiet voice inside, I don't know what to do. I live each day, stay within the outlines of a life already drawn. I'm not really acting. Not really. The questions of what now? what next? still hover round, my constant companions. Take action? And do what? Isn't that the $64.00 question.

What Would Jane Do?

"High spirits and youth are as natural a match as romance and ladies of a certain age. Yet heedless, undirected spirits can precipitate heartache as much as overly romantic recklessness can ruin an entire family. Cleverness untempered with kindness is memorable only for the pain it causes in others. When intelligence is subservient to compassion and wisdom, the journey may be less diverting, but it will also prove to be more harmonious."

December 15, 2009 - Seven of Teacups (cups)

What do I need to know today to move me along my true path and to foster the health and happiness of my heart?

The Seven of Cups is a card of options. It can also be a card of wishful thinking, and perhaps over indulgence. So which is it? Do I have options? Yes. More I suspect than I think I do. Wishful thinking? God, yes. I future possibilities with a fervor and skill, devote such energy to what could be, that if put that energy into my "real" life, it would surpass even my hopes and dreams, my wild imaginings. Over-indulgence? Sure. That doesn't always mean drugs, alcohol, food, sex. No I over-indulge in grief, in emotions, in love, in hope.

In the Jane Austen Tarot, the Seven of Teacups depicts a young woman sipping a cup of tea, lost in dreamy reverie of love. The young woman is Harriet Martin, one of the characters in Emma, and a young woman in love with love. She falls deeply, when she falls in love, and with little discernment regarding the object of her affections. She refuses the honest affections of a worthy man, Robert Martin, because Emma puffs her up, makes her think she is worthy of more, a higher social standing, as if that can more than make up for true affection, or that they go hand in hand. In the span of the novel, Harriet Martin falls in love with Robert Martin, Mr. Elton, Mr. Knightly, and finally Robert Martin again, whose steady affection finally wins her heart.

What lessons then is Harriet here to teach? Oh, I think I know. Harriet's imagination runs wholly to the subject of love. I may be middle aged but love does preoccupy me. Discernment and discrimination are vital in all of the things that most move our heart, and yet these are often the very things we let run away with us. I've got a pretty decent mind but do I use it in the things I'm passionate about. No. Harriet builds great loves out of castles in the air and doesn't see true love when it stands plainly and honestly in front of her. I've done that, do that, discount the true steady love I have because it doesn't look a particular way, feel a particular way, act a particular way. I am a dreamy romantic under the seeming pragmatism of a sixth house sun, and as Jane Austen so deftly points out, I need protection from reality, but mostly from myself.

The astrological assignment of the Seven of Teacups is Venus in Scorpio. The goddess of love (Venus) in that emotional sign can tend to be focused on beautiful and watery fantasies as opposed to terra firma. And if you're going to build castles, it might be better to avoid uncertain seas and choose instead solid ground.

So What Would Jane Do?

"Our imagination is a pet creature of out constitution. It reflects its master -- or its servant -- well.... A good imagination is a fine quality -- in a mind that is equipped to use it well." (p. 88)

December 14, 2009 - Eight of Coins

So what do I need to know today for my heart's health and happiness? Still refining the question, as you can see. I feel a bit like Aladdin given a set number of wishes and trying to cover every base within the magical parameters. Not sure where we get the idea that magic is limited, that we only get so much luck, love, happiness. Maybe from fairy tales themselves.

The Eight of Pentacles is a card of success brought by hard work, painstaking work, increasing knowledge and expertise, and paying careful attention to detail. It's a craftsman's card, signifying a time of hard but beloved work nearly done.

Since I wasn't specific about the realm, I have to wonder where in life am I a craftsman and where do I dedicate myself -- family, speech pathology, writing, love? I suppose it could be all of them although I can't imagine a more exhausting thought then trying to be an "expert" in all of them. I'm of the ebb and flow, the turn of the wheel, to everything there is a season school. So what season is this for me?

In the Jane Austen Tarot, this card is associated with Anne Elliot, the heroine of Persuasion, an older but wiser unmarried woman of 27 (gasp! but I understand the time in which Jane was writing and that a woman of this age could, like Charlotte Lucas, fear ever making a match, let alone one based on love). Anne is the most capable member of her family. She is the master of many skills, including running a household, managing children, budgeting, compassion, clear-thinking in times of emergency, and passionate, despite her age and dwindling prospects. While I would love to think myself lovely and lively Elizabeth Bennett, I have always felt myself more closely aligned with Anne Elliot, which is perhaps why I reread Persuasion again and again, to catch the face of hope.

The astrological assignment for this card is Sun in Virgo, supporting a precise yet grounded approach to life. Virgo is ruled by Mercury, suggesting this sign, at it's best, is both practical and intelligent. With a sixth house sun (the sixth house being the natural house of Virgo) then, it isn't at all surprising this practicality is an essential part of my being, though it is colored by the lens of Libra.

So what does it mean, this Eight of Coins? Have I achieved a level of mastery in a particular field or, like Anne, in many fields? Am I just the unseen hand behind many projects and possibilities, helping them toward success without any recognition? Perhaps, as the Jane Austen Tarot suggests, I've gone as far as I can in one realm and it is time to move on to greener pastures, to bigger and better things. I am a person who always thinks of herself as an apprentice in every realm, becoming and becoming but never quite "being." I've finally decided I can call myself a writer, but just a novice. I am a good speech pathologist, but certainly not gifted. I consider myself a "good enough" mother, but not great. You get the picture. Because this card is the suit of coins, it speaks to creating tangible things like art, music, crafts, writing. So I'd like to think it speaks to a new period in my writing, a certain level of craftsmanship achieved, greater success in my endeavors. I think this would be vital to my heart's happiness, and therefore, to my health as well.

What would Jane Do?

"We all know industrious souls who achieve much, but have not the discernment to achieve well.... Alternately, there are those whose ideas are brilliant, but come to naught. Potential without application is pure vapour. When Labor and intellect align, however, the results seem divinely inspired."

December 13, 2009 - Nine of Quills (Nine of Swords)

A slightly new question today as I keep trying to refine what I ask. Of course it strikes me as I write this that consistency may not be the goal. Some days my path might dominate my thoughts and others, like today, my heart in all its incarnations -- physical, emotional, spiritual. So that's what I ask: What do I need to know today for the physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being of my heart?

Nine of Quills (Nine of Swords). Hmmmmm.

Swords as a suit, represent the element of Air, the realm of thought. The cards are often disturbing, the swords I think and the associations with battle responsible for the negative connotations. And our thoughts are often at war with each other, at war with us. Thoughts are powerful, as anyone who understands the mind-body connection can tell you. I can remember lying in the hospital before my bypass, hearing the news from my surgeon, my heart rate rising, my blood pressure with it, the nurse saying, "calm down, think calm thoughts" as the heart attack began and at that point fear and worry and pain swept me away.

In the Jane Austen Tarot, the suit of Swords is represented by Quills, in honor of Jane as a writer and the saying, "the pen is mightier than the sword." On the Nine of Quills we see Catherine Morland, the heroine of Northanger Abbey, in her bed, the candle lit and throwing indecipherable shadows against the wall. If you've read Northanger Abbey then you know Catherine has a love of gothic novels and an imagination which runs away from her. Her instincts are often true but her explanations for those feelings, are often ridiculous and get her into trouble. She is right to fear General Tilney. He does not have her best interests at heart, nor the best interests of his children either. When he thinks Catherine is an heiress, he welcomes her to his home, courts her for his son. When he realizes she is poor, he sends her away and admonishes his son to have nothing to do with her or risk losing everything.

Catherine though doesn't see the avarice. She sees malice. She lets her love of gothic novels rule her, run away with her common sense. She grows sure that the General has murdered his wife and so, along with the devastation of being expelled from the house, she also suffers the embarrassment of her own wild and baseless thoughts.

Like Catherine Morland, I too possess an active imagination, able to see the myriad ways things can go wrong and sure they will. Of course I hope for the best. Cn one be an optimistic pessimist? A pessimistic optimist? If so, that's me. I already knew everything the surgeon was telling me. The Cardiologist had come in and gently explained that a bypass was really the best and only hope. I had already met with the surgical nurse and the anesthesiologist. So why did the surgeon set me off? Maybe he made it more real. Maybe, with hours to stew, I was dwelling on all the things that could go wrong, sure they would.

And it's not just surgery. I have sen the "end" of relationships, sure they were inevitable, and find myself still involved with the person although our relationship has changed, sometimes markedly. Things change, that's true, but life seems to go on and we with it, and even the horror of open heart surgery fades over time. How can I help my heart in every way? Stay in the present and use my active imagination to solve problems as they do come, as opposed to dwelling always in the realm of possibility, dealing with problems that aren't mine, that don't exist, that may never occur. I've come to live much more in the present since my surgery. The Nine of Quills is my reminder to keep this practice, to stay present tense, to write my story as it unfolds instead of leaping to my ending.

So What Would Jane Do?

"There is more to fear in the trial and tribulations of society than in the goriest gothic novel. Being judged on social standing and properties rather than ones innate abilities, is more likely to result in physical, mental, and emotional suffering than any visit to a threatening precipice, or anything hidden in a cave or a closet. The things we fear most often never come to pass, yet our instinctive repulsions need to be honored, for what our soul shrinks at in novels may take more pernicious -- and mundane -- form in real life. An active and experienced mind will ultimately be able to discriminate between real and imaginary foes." (p. 115)

December 12, 2009 - Ten of Teacups (cups)

Posing the question is perhaps the most important part of selecting a tarot card. Leave it too open-ended and you get a nebulous response, something too general to act upon. Make it too specific and your hyper-focus blinds you to the larger picture and you miss something vital. Usually I ask, "What do I need to know for today?" It seemed a good compromise although without a frame I sometimes didn't know what I was looking for, how the card might work. I might get an "a-ha" or I might not.

Today I decided to change the question. "What do I need to know to move the right way along my path and to find happiness?" Yeah, I figured I had been The Hermit too long and it was time to end my brood-a-thon, waiting for happiness to find me, and start taking steps toward finding happiness for myself. Sound familiar? A bit too Sleeping Beauty for your tastes? Mine too.

So, this morning I shuffle the cards, hold the question in my mind, and then select my card by feel. It takes some time for the tingling that tells me "this one." That's not always the case. Sometimes cards leap out. But sometimes it takes time. I am learning patience -- with others, with myself, with the still, quiet voice that is sometimes hard to hear these days. And what comes is the Ten of Cups, the Ten of Teacups in the Jane Austen Tarot, an image that suits me, the small warm steady comfort of a cup of tea.

The Jane Austen tarot Ten of Teacups pictures Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy and Charles and Jane Bingley after their marriages, standing in front of a large home, a rainbow above, sun. The expressions on their faces are of deep joy, the kind of contentment that comes with true and lasting happiness. Jane Austen writes: "Jane and Elizabeth, in addition to every other source of happiness, were within thirty miles of each other." A truly happy ending, after much hard work on everyones part.

This card is an augury of love and happiness, but after being tested, trials by fire. The astrological correspondence of this card, Mars in Pisces, speaks to the hard work required to bring happy endings. We like to think they just happen but fairy tales tell us the journey to happily ever after is never easy. Well, maybe I like to think. You are probably wiser than I am. You probably don't wait for someone to save you, for circumstances to alter. You probably get on with the business at hand. I had forgotten how much work a happy life took, the best kind of work, loving work, but work nonetheless. I have never been afraid of starting over, of working hard, of doing what needed to be done. Time to remember what I come from, what I am capable of and to do the work I love for the people I love, including myself.

What Would Jane Do?

"A happy and loving marriage does not form in a vacuum, but is enhanced by the support of loving family and friends. If two people have the emotional and spiritual wherewithal to create a harmonious life for themselves, as well as the financial capability in which to live that harmonious life, their future is destined to follow that pattern, unless fate takes a malign hand."

December 11, 2009 - The Hermit

For the last few years, I've drawn The Hermit a lot. It has oddly suited my situation -- recovering from major surgery, weathering massive changes, navigating deep sorrows. It is a card of introspection and reflection, just what I've been doing, or trying. In the Rider-Waite deck, The Hermit is a bearded sage, holding a lantern (the light of knowledge?) aloft to light the path, his path but not solely. The Hermit is wise, certainly wise enough to know all that matters is the lighted path in the service of any and all who need it. The Hermit speaks of a desire to see deeper, to find meaning, to look beyond the surface to the soul of things. He also speaks of withdrawing from the world for a time to pursue this deeper wisdom.

Of course with every tarot card, there is a darker side, what happens when The Hermit takes his proclivity for withdrawal to extremes. There can be a kind of arrogance to this card, a cynicism that leads to a sense of superiority. The Hermit can love humanity in general, but not people in particular. And the retreat to reflect can smack of escapism.

In the Jane Austen Tarot, The Hermit card depicts Mr. Bennett, the father of Elizabeth and Jane, studious Mary, silly and giddy Lydia, and young, impressionable Kitty. Mr. Bennett is a scholarly man who married a foolish but beautiful woman. As the passion of his marriage fades, he retreats more and more to his study and books.

Mr. Bennett got me thinking about The Hermit in his less attractive aspects. Yes, he's a lenient father, but that's because he's not engaged. This parenting approach works well enough for three of the girls, but impulsive Lydia with her mother's influence to guide her, finds herself in devastating circumstances, faring as well as she does only because of the intervention of Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bennett makes me wonder if I am less engaged with my family or have been these last few years. The same is true with friends. Maybe there were good reasons for the withdrawal and distance, but when those reasons passed and the world called, I did not listen, held myself back, and The Hermits sense of isolation clings to me, sought perhaps but my state so long I'm not sure how to be different.

Now add to this Mr. Bennett's rather cynical view of the world and a preference for the company of books to people. Sounds familiar, this isolation as both temptation and trap. Hmmmmm. A man if integrity, a philosophical bent, but not wise in the matter of the heart. My heart and I have had an interesting relationship in 2009 and I have come to realize I hardly know my own heart and so ignorant, have no hope of guessing the heart of another. A pretty sobering realization smack in middle age. Like Socrates, I have come to realize I know nothing.

I think this time around, my hermit's light is held higher, glows brighter. I see his good points but also his flaws. I know there is peace in seclusion but understand also that it keeps me from the wisdom that we are all connected, all one. Contemplation is important, but action is too. Yin and yang, word and silence, flexion and contraction, pause and reflection, these are what makes a full life. Rumi wrote: "Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralyzed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as bird wings." Thank God for 13th century Sufi mystics who help us make sense of our sometimes senseless world.

What Would Jane Do? After revisiting the novels in describing the card, this is perhaps my favorite part of each tarot explanation:

"While you may be surrounded by folly and conceit, you not only recognize it, you find some amusement in it. However, the light you hold up to the world can illuminate your own flaws, if you are but willing to examine them with the same dry and discerning wit you apply everywhere else. It is wise never to take any thing too seriously, but perhaps your light will shine the brighter if you take yourself a bit more than you do at present."

A New Direction: To Boldy Go......

There's much I don't know about the world, about myself. One thing I have come to understand at 51 is my dialogic nature, both in the sense of dialogue/conversation, and in Mikhail Bakhtin's sense, that "all language is dynamic, relational and engaged in a process of endless rediscriptions of the world." It's no surprise to me, my relational proclivities. And if you know me well, it won't surprise you either. Walk with me, talk with me, read with me, take a class with me, and you know. It's not enough to take in, to absorb. No, I have to be in dialogue as David Bohm describes it, "each person does not attempt to make common certain ideas or items of information that are already known to him. Rather, it may be said that two people are making something in common, i.e., creating something new together." (from On Dialogue) I want to be open and malleable, willing to be altered even as that which I am in conversation with, is open and malleable with me. Each time I come together with people, books, ideas, conversation, my neighborhood, the world, I view it as a collaboration.

So when I decided to make the Tarot a daily practice, of course I'd have to take a dialogic approach. What follows then is my conversation with the Tarot, specifically The Jane Austen Tarot since this is the newest deck to come my way, although I suspect new decks and old will find their way to me and me to them, when and if I need their particular wisdom. For decks speak a common language of symbols but in the dialect of their creator/subject. According to The Jane Austen Tarot author, the message of Austen's novels and of this particular tarot deck, is "the vital importance of balance in our everyday lives." Since my intent this year is equanimity and my Libran challenge is always balance, this deck seems a divine gift, surprising and thought-provoking.

Mary Oliver's poem, The Journey, holds a particular resonance as I embark on this virtual journey:

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice - - -
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
'Mend my life!'
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations - - -
though their melancholy
was terrible.It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.

But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice,
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do - - - determined to save
the only life you could save.

May this journey be a fruitful one and may the life I save be the only one I can save -- my own.