This Week's Writerly Tarot: The Ten of Wands

I wasn't going to say much about this card. I didn't draw it, you see. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes I feel the pull of a specific energy so strongly that I go ahead and write about the card that represents that energy.

I am dog-tired. Worn out. Frazzled as an old shoelace. I've been on the road for six days now, and I'm coming back home to a to-do list even longer than the one I left with. So many tasks to catch up on, so many chores to begin, and the world whirls and spins new stuff to do on my plate.

At this moment, there is no card that better represents my energetic situation than the Ten of Wands.

So I decided to post it with an apology. Sorry, friends, this week is beyond me, I was going to write. Here's the Ten of Wands as explanation. Just look at that card and you'll understand.

But then I checked to see if I had explained it before, if this card had previously turned up on its own accord. And indeed it had.

Just one time.

Exactly one year ago.

Y'all, it's like the tarot is playing me sometimes. Like it occasionally feels the need to show off a little.

But yes, it's a Ten of Wands day at the end of a Ten of Wands week, and I am brain-dead and stupefied, so I'll let what I said last time suffice for this time:

Last [week], we celebrated the autumnal equinox here in the Northern hemisphere. Traditionally considered the beginning of the fall season, this day is also known as Harvest Home, the Feast of Ingathering, Mabon, Meán Fómhair, or Alban Elfed. It is celebrated as a time of harvest and balance when day and night are equal (though we must tack the modifier "almost" in front of that "equal"—the equinox itself is a moment, specifically the moment when the solar terminator (the "edge" dividing night and day) is perpendicular to the equator.

I've been busy-busy-busy. Not like the proverbial bee either. Bees never seem to be in much of a frantic rush. They move from flower to flower with mindful attention, each blossom encompassing the whole of their world for as long as they are there. They don't look at all the hundreds of other flowers and go, "Jeez, I'm gonna be here all day! How am I gonna get to all those flowers? It's already noon, and I've barely covered the roses, much less the ginger lilies and the frangipani."

No, bees do not do that. People do. And when they do, the Ten of Wands shows up in their lives. As it did in mine.

The Ten of Wands describes a burdensome situation. The figure in the card is striving to carry a massive bundle of wands. This does not look to be an easy task, and he is struggling. The Wands are the suit of passion, and as such, they can lead to over-enthusiasm, over-commitment, over-loading. All the over-things.

Luckily, there is much to learn in this card. Every wand in that bundle is there because we picked it up. We may regret some of those decisions (that Facebook party we signed up for); others we are happy to have made despite the hard work (like that workshop we taught or supportive e-mail we wrote to a struggling fellow writer). The wands we carry are the products of our choices. We can put some of them down. We can learn to be more discerning in what we pick up.

One wand at a time, y'all. One wand at a time. I'll see y'all next week with a brand new Writerly Tarot. And maybe with a back that's a little straighter and a load that's a little lighter.