Since this blog reflects my day-to-day preoccupations (so far, our awesome puppy, being creatively adrift, and, um, a basil plant?), it feels appropriate to write about a Tarot card reading I did for myself a few days ago. I’m still mulling it over.
I read Tarot cards like I read movies, TV shows, plays, and conversations I overhear in coffee shops: not in any particularly mystical manner, but knowing full-heartedly that I can learn something from anything, that there’s something useful in having narrative art laid before you. Beyond being entertained, if you want to, you can become a semi-reflective surface when you face it. (Yeah, very reverse-mimesis, you Aristotle fans.) If I look at how I react to characters or situations (find myself identifying with a character or person, for example) and have some semblance of self-awareness, I can learn just a bit more about myself by mulling over why I’m having a certain reaction. What features am I reflecting, what angles am I taking? It’s sort of like tossing a coin to make a decision, except you use your reaction to the random chance (No! Why wasn’t it tails?) to choose what you’ll actually do.
My reading was question-centered: What do I need to know about why I’m so unfocused and have so much trouble doing what I want to do?
And the spread (the arrangement and number of the cards) was a simple set of three, representing the past, present, and future.
Sometimes the reading immediately feels meaningful, and part of it did: I instantly related to the center card of the present, feeling bound, blinded, and confined in the present. (So dramatic, right?) But Justice in the past? The freaking Chariot in the future? So strange, it seemed to me, so impenetrable! And, to be fair, mostly because I’m a novice and wasn’t sure how to read these intimidating cards.
So I looked up the most basic of possibilities: judgment and victory, respectively, and, duh, I say to myself. This led me to feel cautiously hopeful, but still confused. Sure, past decisions have lead to present restriction (lady surrounded by swords can so get out of them if she tried just a bit!), but how does present restriction get to sphinx-led-chariot-riding victory?
Because it’s so puzzling to me, there’s what I need to think about: I get, more or less, why I am where I am. That’s less important than answering the question: how do I get out? How do I become the self-assured badass with the staff and the sphinxes?