IX of Pentangles - Reversed

Once upon a time a woman looked over the wall into her neighbor's garden. Everything about the garden seemed lush and controlled at the same time. Her own garden seemed choked with weeds, all spindly stalks and aborted, rotting blossoms.

Her husband tended their garden contentedly. For him it was the best garden he ever had. It provided everything they needed. He brought in a tomato and she would point to the small black spot on it. He would bring in peas and she would lament that there was four peas in the pod, not five.

She would point to their neighbor's garden, "why don't we have that? You should make our garden like that.

He looked at the neighbor's garden and saw that there wasn't one plant in it that was safe to eat. The oleander smelled wonderful. The foxglove's blue flowered spikes were lined up in neat rows. The white umbrellas of water hemlock towered above the man's head. The bloodroot formed a verdant carpet beside the paths. "There is nothing in that garden that we need, my Love. Come away from the window and try these blackberries I picked this morning." She waved him off and continued to stare out the window at her neighbor's garden.

Everyday he brought her fresh foods nurtured by his patient, simple effort, and everyday she pointed to the neighbor's garden and berated him for his common one. "There is nothing in that garden that we need, my Love," he always replied.

One evening he came in with a large handful of emerald green zucchini and found his wife was not there to greet him. He set the zucchini down on the kitchen counter and chanced to look out the window. His wife was laying sprawled in the path of his neighbor's garden. He ran out, climbed the neighbor's wall and went to his wife. As he picked her up the plump black nightshade berries fell from her hand.

His neighbor was at the garden gate. She opened the gate for him, bowing her head as he passed through. Before she shut the gate behind him he turned to her. "I have more zucchini than I can use. Would you like some?"

"Yes, I would. That is very kind of you."

IX of Pentangles

The thing about that 9 of Pentangles and me realizing that I am nowhere near that 9. "It's a nice place to visit by I wouldn’t want to live there," so to speak, is part of the difference between C. and I. She lives in that 9. She is comfortable enjoying that luxury. Work is only a means of getting her to that place. People around her do their best to keep her in that place. She has learned to manipulate people around her to keep herself in that place. “I know my daughter is manipulative. People think I don’t see it, but I do. She learned it from a master,” B. said yesterday.

C. does work. She wouldn’t have gotten the full scholarship to QU if she didn’t work. But the work isn’t where her joy is. The work is the means to the ends. There has to be a pay off.

For me the results of the work, whatever I bring into being is the payoff. I guess this is where I fall short. What I’m struggling with at the moment, if in essence I already feel like I’ve been paid, why go through the effort of the next step and actually collect the 9th coin? Because that 9th coin is the profit that you get to invest to get to the happy family place in the 10 of coins, and that is where I really want to be so I can tap back into the source of the Ace for more inspiration and start the cycle all over again, create my next work.

IX of Pentangles

0: I open myself to all possibilities...
... that include nothing more complex than sitting in this chair in peace as long as possible.

1: This card is the IX of Pentangles in the Feeling position.

2: Background—A clear green sky (I hate the unnatural sky colors in this deck) over a range of high blue peaks. Two tall trees on either side of the card framing the figure’s head. A castle, white walls with red roofed turrets. Foreground—the trellis of grape vines heavy with lush, dark-purple bunches of grapes. 9 pentangles arranged in groups of threes, 6 on one side of the figure and three on the other. The central figure’s gender is unclear. Short hair (man?) opulent robe with a neckline cut to enhance cleavage (woman?) but no obvious tits. Blonde hair. Red hat ornately bordered oversized beret style (also not gender specific) Figure’s right hand rests on the top pentangle. The figure’s left hand has a large yellow glove on which a hooded falcon is perched. The falcon’s hood is red like the figure’s hat. The heavy robe is yellow with roses so stylized as to look like the female symbol. The inside of the sleeves are also red as is the wide collar. The robe uses lots of fabric, draped sleeves and a train. Barest hint of one small, pointed, yellow slipper.

3: Contentment, enjoyment of pleasure.

It’s raining again today. I’m sitting watching it fall, making the watery reflection of the puddles on my deck jump and flash light/dark. There is a pair of squirrels chasing each other and foraging through the leaves for acorns. Watching only them, you wouldn’t know it was raining. They don’t even really look wet. Tails still fluffy. They like to perch on the stonework in the backyard to eat whatever they find then scramble for more. T. has settled herself in my lap. She’s purring and warm. My feet are propped up on B.’s chair where H. & H. is sprawled out. I have tea and quiet, except for the cats and rain and machine hum that accompanies modern American life.

Greer suggests using “I” statements when describing the cards. If I did that with this card...

I’m standing in my host’s vineyard wearing an opulent costume provided by my host. It is warm, heavy, but I hate the colors. The hat is cool though. To go with the costume they gave me a falconer’s glove and a falcon. I’m glad it’s hooded because I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with it otherwise. I really wish someone would come and take it back. My arm is tired and I am inclined to set it free, but I don’t want to piss off my host. It was a thrill at first to be so close to such an awesome, beautiful animal as was putting on the costume and roaming through the vineyard and castle. But it’s all too much. I’m glad of the chance to experience all of that, and will be sad when it’s over, but I have work that I want to go do.

Evolution (mutation?)

I've been playing with this spread again. Here is a more organic image with a circulatory system added. I added what Tristine Rainer calls the "four natural modes of expression" in her book The New Diary. These correspond perfectly with the suits and I'm very familiar with all of them from my own twenty-six years of diary writing.

III The Empress

3)* Emotions and attitudes of the Empress--confident, satisfied, fulfilled.

4)* Once upon a time there was a woman who had everything she needed so she was content.

Doesn't that seem like the ultimate fairy story? M. once said that a sane woman was his favorite mythological creature. I wonder if maybe a satisfied, secure woman isn't a rarer thing still.

I know I am better now than I have been in years mainly because I get the touch I need. Everything is kind of secondary to that.

*These numbers refer to one of Mary K. Greer's 21 Ways To Read A Tarot Card.

III The Empress

0) I open myself to all possibilities...

...maybe, at least I'm in a better mood today.

1) The name of the card is the Empress in the position of Ecstasy. This is what keeps me going this year. Without her strength, without this wedded bliss that has endured I would be a complete basket case. Not to say I am not a complete basket case at the moment really.

2) I'm kind of guessing that yellow grassy looking stuff in the foreground is ripe wheat.

VII of Swords

I read something somewhere that this rogue was getting away with a lot (five swords) but not the whole lot (7 swords.)

I am that rogue with @. I said I could honor boundaries, and then when the opportunity presented itself I crossed them. Right between the physical and emotional. Granted, I had a good push from him. When we were finally alone, I said, “come here.” I was just going to have him lean on me and I would hold him. Stillness. As long as I just held and breathing was my only movement, I figured I was still on the right side of the line. Then he started running his fingertips over my skin. I had been fine with just the holding, stealing the one sword, trying not to be greedy emotionally or physically. But damn, there was the next sword dangling there in front of my face. He was handing it to me with that movement across my skin. Keen edge shaving the fine hairs. So I took the next three swords: entwined fingers, rubbed noses, bodies aligned and pressed close.

I’m not a good sneak thief though. I turned myself in. Those last two swords—I really wanted them. The kiss and then all the rest of him would have followed, but I’m just not that roguish. Though like a Hollywood movie jewel thief, I left my token behind, a quick light, stolen kiss on the lips good-bye. Like this rogue’s red hat and boots, if you are going to be a rogue do it with style.