Let the Cards Fall Where They May

When I was fourteen, I got my first deck of tarot cards. The Rider Waite deck, which is one of the most well-known and basic decks on the market, it was the only one they had at our local bookstore at the time. A friend I went to school with had done a demonstration speech on how to read tarot cards, and I had to have them.

Long had I been into the metaphysical, checking out books on the Salem Witch Trials and demonic possession from our local library when I was all of about ten years old. Learning to read tarot cards seemed like the next logical step in my journey toward self discovery.

I've amassed quite a tarot collection over the last nineteen years, having a total of thirteen decks at present. Three of those decks are Celtic, in tie to my Scottish and Irish ancestry, and each of the others has its own special significance.

Over the last three months a lot of things in my life have been up in the air. I've had serious career doubts, work trouble, emotional ups and downs and our financial situation could use a serious boost! Of course, all of those things put strain on our romantic relationship, which until about two weeks ago had been going so perfectly, I had never felt closer to my incredibly talented and wonderful spouse of nearly thirteen years. Suddenly the weight of the world slumped down on me like a fat man's belly let loose from the belt after an all you can eat buffet. I literally found myself tossing and turning about an hour before the alarm went off this morning because my mind was chewing away at some unprocessed worry that needed sorting out.

When things get this jumbled in my life, pulling out my tarot cards and taking a look at what life is trying to tell me is an absolute necessity. While many people think of the Tarot as evil, some even going so far as to belief the messages from the cards come from demonic spirits, there is actually nothing demonic about them at all. Just as all things in life have a tendency to do, the cards fall where they may, and the symbolism in the pictures act as a guide, offering clarity into situations in one's life that may not be registering clearly.

So I spent some time with my cards. I actually pulled out the Rider Waite deck. The shuffling of cold cards over the years has become so familiar that it's almost second nature. I know when to stop, which card to take and as I turn it face up I see exactly what the universe wants me to know based on my circumstance and situation.

The good news is, I'm not only on the right track, but I am on the giddying brink a serious breakthrough. Apparently, I'm hanging on tight to the thread of an old ideal that I need to clip, so I can go spiraling into the great, wide unknown. Excellent, because change is what I need. As a Gemini, stagnation is worse than death, as at least with death, it's an unknown new adventure.

So, as I pick up my cards, and tuck them back into their satin, red back, that old cliche, "It's always darkest before the dawn," pops up like a banner in the background of my thoughts. I think I'm going to need a new pair of sunglasses for that sunrise.



(these are not my cards, but an image from SanFranAnnie on Flickr)

Submission

I love that word, and not just because I'm a writer. It's also got very little to do with the fact that I just submitted a personal essay to a magazine I've admired for a couple of years. I think my love affair with that word has more to do with its multiple meanings. Submission could refer to the above mentioned literary endeavor, or it could mean to give over and yield power to someone or something, to surrender.

All too often, the idea of submission or surrender feels like a negative thing. The weakened warring nation had no choice but to submit to their enemy. The dominatrix forced her naughty client to submit (though for the submissive this is probably a positive thing.) After giving everything she had to keep her head above water, the only option left was for her to submit.

And yet, when carrying a burden on one's back, is it not best to surrender worries to a higher power? She faced her goddess and knelt in submission. When battling an illness, we submit to treatment. When you know your best friend is right, you submit to her better judgment. I browsed through the contents inside the envelope one last time before dropping my submission into the mailbox.

The word originated from the Middle-English word submitten, which is what I would have done had Geoffrey Chaucer written a poem in my honor. The Middle-English word was derived from the Latin word submittere.

So what about you? Are your submissions in order?