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)

He Whispers to Me While I Sleep

Lord Byron on his Death-bed
Originally uploaded by Kien Nguyen Photography

Lord Byron... ever since I was about thirteen years old I had a bizarre obsession with him, and not just his work, but him as a person. It occasionally rivaled with my fascination for Shelley, but for some reason Byron always wins out. While both had equally depressing volumes to offer before their deaths, Byron always felt more dangerous to me. In fact, as I mentioned yesterday I always thought the name George Gordon would fantastic for some Romantic obsessed serial murder. I've even had a few really creative ideas on how to insert Byron into fiction over the years, things both dark and hilarious that cannot be shared until the ideas are more complete.

The short story I am working on right now reminds me of Byron in the most twisted way. I had even named the main character George at first, but then upon realizing the connection changed it to give myself some distance and to let the character grow into his own personality.

The strange obsession has brought about the Byronic cycles that sometimes haunt me in my sleep. In the morning, just before I open my eyes and while still suspended in that web of some dream, I hear a voice whispering familiar poetry to me. This morning that voice said:


"Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,
A boundary between the things misnamed
Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,
And a wide realm of wild reality,
And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,
They take a weight from off waking toils,
They do divide our being; they become
A portion of ourselves as of our time,
And look like heralds of eternity..."

Funny, but that is how I have always viewed dreams. A separate reality, a weight upon my waking thoughts that divides me into two beings. As a Gemini, that sense of duality has existed all of my life, and I walk a thin line between the dream world and the waking place most people consider every day life.

I'm sure that's all crazy to you... but I'm happy here. Wherever I am.