After time away sewing and knitting and reading over the winter, I started reading tarot blogs again and got uncomfortable. I have one friend I always read, and a few other people occasionally whom I enjoy. Beyond those I get uncomfortable. I wanted to sort this out in my mind with a ramble.
A person once referred to tarot people as being either saccharine or backstabbing. I find it difficult to connect with saccharine which often feels like a lack of intelligence to me, and the other kind are frighteningly vindictive. Yikes. Such is the polarity of being human.
Part of it is forums, the cliques that build up on them, and the correctness of belief that ensues. The other part is that with the Internet and the opportunity to turn tarot work into a wider business, many people see themselves as gurus and they attract the needy and easily led, the people that aren’t keen on thinking for themselves. One guy I used to know called them “sheeple” which is a gross generalization but somewhat apt.
The Internet also fuels those sad folk who desperately want to be famous. You know them: they post everywhere they have blogs and videos and write reviews in various arenas where all they talk about is themselves and how much they know or how smart they are and how much experience and wisdom they have and how gifted they are and how many books they’ve written and how if you don’t agree with them you are an idiot…zzzzz. I didn’t put commas in there for a reason.
This too of course is a generalization. Somewhere in the middle of these polarizations lie the rest of us.
I like to write the odd review, I think many of us feel such compulsion when a deck or artist strikes us. I like to take more time to write reviews; life changes over weeks and months, I want to experience a deck that way. I like to mess around with cards and art and poetry and words. I like to show images or compare them. I do riffs on one card reminding me of another, or a book or a piece of artwork, that’s something I have enjoyed for years. I’ve always written stories and poems with cards.
I am uncomfortable when other people seem to break my own connection with cards and books and art. Perhaps it destroys the meditative value of them for me, the closeness I feel, I’m not quite sure. I am not really a people person, I find people stimulating but ultimately overwhelming, so that might be it. For me cards are just a way of being quiet and connected to the Self.
So that’s it I think, I just like to mess around by myself, and sometimes reading other people’s blogs makes me uncomfortable, winds me up too much, makes me angry or sad needlessly. You would think by now I would know this, having crashed and burned on a few groups and lists years ago, escaping, relieved to go. I like to do my own blog and mess around.
Let’s have a card to go with this. I’ve got to rummage for a suitable deck, something from my early days….the Portal Tarot! I was so hoping this would be expanded and published in a full deck, but alas, life has moved on.
I will go upstairs where it’s warmer and make myself a cup of red clover tea. Then I can hug my Portal Tarot and say “Hello old friend it’s just you and me and we’re going to connect.” Darn, the Portal insists on nettle tea, not red clover. He’s always like this, very firm about things. Okay, we’ll have nettle, after feeding the cats of course, then we’ll shuffle and pick a card and read the booklet and sip our tea and enjoy ourselves.
0 – THE FOOL
I thought of an isolated sphere that is actually connected to others. The Fool, not being fixed in place, can float around and do what he wants, joining together with others or not, but his inner and outer worlds are always joined. Impulse and adventure, the adventure is not limited by being alone.
I keep thinking of the song I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles, which fits beautifully with this card.
I’m dreaming dreams,
I’m scheming schemes,
I’m building castles high.
They’re born anew,
Their days are few,
Just like a sweet butterfly.
And as the daylight is dawning,
They come again in the morning.
I’m forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air,
They fly so high,
Nearly reach the sky,
Then like my dreams,
They fade and die.
Fortune’s always hiding,
I’ve looked everywhere,
I’m forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air.
When shadows creep,
When I’m asleep,
To lands of hope I stray.
Then at daybreak,
When I awake,
My bluebird flutters away.
Happiness new seemed so near me,
Happiness come forth and heal me.
A good time with cards is ever satisfying, ever rich, ever resonant.
Kind of like a good cup of tea and a dog skipping at your heels.