It’s In The Cards

Every day I get a tarot card reading in my e-mail.  Most days they’re funny.  And then there are the days when they acutally make sense and sound down right prophetic.  Like this one for instance:

You are about to enter a new phase in life.  You may find that you attract a lot of unusual friends.  Some kind of shared experience or interest could bring you together with people who are strongly interested in making changes in the world.

I’m all for new life phases and improving the world. And now on the lookout for weird people to share all that with.  Of course I didn’t meet enough of them on day one, so I started to rethink the whole thing.  And the cards sent me this:

You have mixed feelings today.  On the outside you are projecting warmth, compassion, empathy and confidence, but inside you have some strong doubts, particulary where it comes to your path right now.  Don’t let momentary challenges get to you, they will pass.

I mean seriously, are they tuned in to me or WHAT??  So I thought it would be a good plan to just keep on projecting all those positive emotions and feelings until I actually started to believe in them myself. And also maybe keep it up until I have that epiphany about changes to the earth.  Or whatever I was going on about the other day.  Finding my path.  OMG, how am I supposed to find my path?

If you slow down and let yourself think about things calmly you may find that you come up with a strong and positive way to make a solid improvement in your ambitions today. You have a lot of creative ideas today, but may not believe in them. Trust yourself. It always seems impossible until it is done.

An improvement in my ambitions?  I don’t really have any ambitions – except perhaps the ambition to be ambitious about something.  As for creative ideas, I finally finished a project that I’ve had on the go for about a year.  It’s never a good idea to rush things in my world where self doubt reigns supreme.  There isn’t a really good “before” picture because I forgot to take one until somewhere in the middle.  This little chef with a shelf from the island cottage is probably 50 plus years old.  He was painted red white and blue and covered in greasy grime.  The wood stove got too hot one day and his yellow plastic salt and pepper shakers melted.  I took pity on him and brought him home to give him and his tray a makeover.  I’m always doing things like this, completely negating any antique value things might have in the interests of making them look less like pieces of crap.

He’s sideways because the pieces aren’t put together yet.  I was afraid that because I had to sand them so much they wouldn’t fit snuggly enough in the end. 

But he turned out okay I suppose, just like the cards predicted.  (That’s how I interpreted their message sometime after the fact.)  You know, where they said it seems impossible until it’s done.  Done or not, I’m certainly done with it.  A year is a bit long to have something on the go.  W leaves tomorrow and he’ll be taking this little gem with him.  I sure as hell don’t want to look at it anymore.

I went back to work today, after a month away from it. The cards made these suggestions:

You can learn a lot from your friends and companions today. They will be excited, full of strange and interesting ideas. You may find that people have very unusual ideas, particularly the older males. Be careful when dealing with older men today.

HAHA!  That certainly put me in a good (less serious)  mood!  And made me eye every old man who came in with apprehensive suspicion.  I was very careful.  I did not sell anything to any one of them, just in case.

An Early Epiphany

The best childhood lessons are the ones we figure out on our own. You know that kid you shake your head at while you roll your eyes and remark that he’s just going to have to learn everything the hard way? Sometimes the strongest people are the ones who start out that way.

It doesn’t really matter for a lot of us how cajoled and threatened and showered with advice we are while we’re growing up. There’s a stubborn streak that questions the rules and the reasons for them, and makes us stomp off in another direction to do whatever we want.

There are always consequences of course. And little ‘ah hah’ moments when we finally get it. Or gleeful moments of triumph when we prove, if only to ourselves, that the rule was stupid and useless in the first place.

My earliest memories revolve around being made to do things that were unpleasant but supposedly GOOD FOR ME. Eat your porridge. Take your vitamins. Wear a hat. Go to bed early. Respect your elders. Be polite. Wash your hands. This time with soap. Please be quiet.

I remember sighing a lot, and dutifully doing whatever I was told. Wondering why the fun things were bad for me, and the irksome disagreeable things were always for my own good. That must have been my four year old mind-set the day I decided to eat dirt.

The texture and the taste is something that has always stuck with me, never mind whatever ‘lesson’ I had dreamed up for myself at that particular moment. I do recall anticipating that the experience would no doubt be awful, but something I should just do so that I could get it over with and thus become a better person.

I also remember my brother being grossed out and telling on me. And how unfair life seemed if it was always going to be so hard to get things right.

Is that the day I began to nurture the tiny seed of rebellion? Maybe. It may not have been a coherent thought in my childish little head, but I’ve never forgotten figuring out that icky things were not necessarily good, so it had to follow that boisterous fun was not always bad. That black and white produced lovely shades of grey.

I still distrust being told what to do. I question advice, well-meant and otherwise. I know that doing something for my own good which is making me truly miserable should send me off immediately in another direction to find a different way of reaching the same goal. What is good for you may be wrong for me. If I believe that, it will be hard for you to change my mind.

Because since that epiphanous childhood day, I no longer eat dirt.

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Killer Pollen?

Is that what attacked me in April?  I’m still trying to figure out what made me so sick and ultimately caused bacterial pneumonia.  Apparently I still sound funny and nasal, although I am no longer breathing like Darth Vader.

Old people sooooo love to talk about their maladies.

What I’m actually here for is to sing the praises of Kate Morden and “The Forgotten Garden”.  Just a delightful book from beginning to end, even though it began at the beginning and almost immediately flew to the end;  and then hit random chronological spots here there and everywhere as the book progressed until finally getting the mystery solved.

Whew.  I usually am not a big fan of hopping around all over the place in a story, although from my writing you might not have grasped that fact.  But while reading this book it seemed perfectly fine and natural to me to jump from 1913 to 1930 to 2005 to 1976 and all the way back and forward again without ever getting myself all muddled up and confused.  Through generations and across continents.  A lovely and splendid journey.

I wanted to post a little blurb about it while I still have the beautiful peaceful feeling of continuity it gave me.  How weird is that, all things considered.  But when one life ends, so much of it continues on in the people who are left behind; so much of the life of someone in the future can be felt before it even starts.  And then when at last you walk into the light it all comes clear.  Well, anyway, I’m hoping that’s what happens. The final epiphany.

Kind of makes me want to research the past and dig up a few scandals.  But thankfully for my family I lack the necessary ambition, so their secrets are safe with me.  (Or from me.)  I’d just jump to conclusions and make things up if the facts proved elusive.  Should have been a historian I guess.

And to skip back to the beginning suddenly for no apparent reason, never mind about the pollen.  I think it was killer snow mold.