a diary of words, paper and other ephemeral things
this week’s edition of The Tarot Diaries is now available. We’re talking about the ace of pentacles, how the hand is offering you the pentacle just as Morpheus offered Neo the red pill out of the matrix, about analog practice, about cooking and the moments that make sobriety and presence worth it.
Yesterday I almost hit a great blue heron on the way to soccer practice (yes, fully a soccer mom). We were driving on the backroads, tall cornfields on both sides. It was a route we didn’t take usually, GPS just decided this was the way to go. It was a bit more hilly than I was used to. Anyways, the music is playing, kids are singing, we go over a hill and there’s a great blue heron just STANDING IN THE ROAD. I was shook. We were going about 57 mph, and I eased the car to a stop without slamming on the breaks…I was doing my best to protect us and the bird.
Upon us getting closer to the bird, it slowly spread its’ wings and began to lift off of the ground. At this point, we fully stopped…luckily these aren’t busy roads. The long legs of the heron trailed behind, almost grazing the windshield of my car.
I was, and still am, amazed.
The heron is not the lion, as pictured in the Strength card. The heron exhibits a different kind of strength. This draws back to my last entry, where I said I think strength and patience are perhaps sisters. Or at least cousins. The Strength of this creature isn’t as upfront, in-your-face…but it’s there.
The great blue heron stands still in water, its long legs granting it the ability to do so, and watches for fish. When you think of the heron, this might be the image that comes to mind. A hunter that stands…still, patient, alone…waiting for the perfect moment.
There is a strength in how the great blue heron lives in the world. They come together for breeding season, and often nest in colonies. They provide care for young nestlings together. Once this vital part of their life cycle is done for the year, they often head out alone.
This feels oddly similar to where I find myself at the moment. Both of my children off to a full day of school Monday through Friday. I spent a long time waiting for this moment (yes, not afraid to admit that a full day of me-time was, and is, tempting). That said, it feels as though I am wading into new territory. I often found myself limited by time and resources.
Now I get to find the perfect moments throughout my day for creation, for making, for sharing. I am leaving the colony of nests to survive on my own for a while (not literally, as I am quite happily married and the kids are still home everyday). With patience, ease and hopefully grace I can slowly make my way across this threshold of change. I can gently tend to what needs attention. I can put down my phone and pick up the paintbrush. I can work on the projects that seemed too daunting. I can do all of these things, and know that there is always an imminent return home. There is exhilarating fear and excitement in this…and there is Strength in getting still, just like the great blue heron, to listen for what’s coming.
This project is a weekly walk with an individual tarot card. I will analyze the card. I will connect it with personal anecdotes. I will make art that represents the card. I will try to embody the spirit of the card (or allow its’ spirit to embody me). I will look at the days of that week to see how the chosen card shows up in my day to day life. It will be a practice of getting to know myself, getting reacquainted with the tarot, and coming back into my life. Tune in for status reports daily-ish, or get the full week’s work in a delivered newsletter.
This morning I pulled the tarot card strength, which is card 8 of the major arcana. At first glance, I see the figure attempt to open the lion’s mouth. This is done in a tender way, but also forceful. It makes me think of walking my dog. She is constantly trying to eat things I don’t know that she should eat. I am consistently trying to open her mouth to spit out a bug or a plant I haven’t identified, or a piece of garbage left on the street.
Ultimately, this practice of walking our dog, who we got a year and a half ago, has been the natural force to get my feet moving and my eyes open. Admittedly, I am still on my phone more than I would like, sometimes while walking her. Even if I tuck the phone away, I still struggle when I think of walking without music or an audiobook or podcast. But, since about midsummer, this has changed.
Walking has turned into a meditation. It’s an act of presence. I have paid more attention to my surroundings. I have paid more attention to nature. I have learned a lot about my environment. I have met more people. I have written poems. I have gotten downloads for creative project ideas. I have felt…in flow.
This comes back to strength because it brings me back to myself. Much like the infinity symbol above the person’s head in the card, I am reminded of forever returning. The daily minutiae used to be the bane of my existence…now it is an act of worship. I still struggle to pick up a dishcloth everyday. Laundry remains in the washer too long. But I am gentler. I am a buoy that gently rocks back and forth, back and forth. I may stray from the practices that help to keep me aligned with my body, my values, my soul…but I find my way back, each time a little bit quicker.
It also makes me think of the forever-ness of living this creative life. What does it look like to start a project, to walk away without berating yourself or feeling like a failure, only to return when the time is right? There is often artwork I share because the art of sharing is an instant gratification I LOVE. I make things, and immediately want to show them to every person I know. This includes you, dear internet friend. I want to show you too. Strength is holding some projects back, tenderly, forcefully. It is knowing that some things require incubation. Not everything must be birthed immediately.
I am learning this in my art practice. I will often tune in with a medium, work in it, and end up unfinished and unsatisfied with the end result. BUT…but…but, when I let it simmer. When I let the magic bake into it completely and then return to it? Usually it takes new shape, and ends up as something whole. I’m thinking this is what will be required of me as I continue writing. Some things are perfect for that immediate satisfaction. There are other projects, the big, scary projects I have been avoiding because of “insert favorite excuse here” that require patience.
I think strength and patience are perhaps sisters. Or at least cousins.
Starmoth Press 