A Little Hiatus with the Writerly Tarot

Hello everyone out there in tarot land. I'm going to be taking a little break from the blog until mid-November.

Tis the season for craziness and conflict and scheduling mayhem--the usual Seven of Wands chaos--and I'm going to have to put my nose to the grindstone for a while in a very Eight of Pentacles way.

See you after Samhain!

This Week's Writerly Tarot: The Chariot

Like many of my fellow writers, I'm a dyed-in-the-wool introvert. A homebody. An INFJ of the highest order.

I tell people I got into this gig because I like to work in my pajamas, but the truth is, this gig suits me because I am extremely comfortable in my own company. I have many awesome friends (hello, friends!) whom I treasure and who are very tolerant of the fact that I have to spend huge swaths of time all by myself to function as a sane and healthy human being.

So what am I doing now? Packing for a giant mystery writer conference. Where I will have drinks with my editor and pontificate on some panels and smile brightly for photos and make conversation with complete strangers for five days.

So...I am utterly unsurprised that the Chariot comes parading into the spotlight this week, bright with starry garlands and roaring with fanfare.

The Chariot is about ego, after all, and one needs a strong and supple ego to function outside of one's comfort zone. Egos get bad raps nowadays, with a lot of pop psychology and pseudo-spiritual gurus going on and on about transcending one's ego. Which is all well and good in a metaphysical sense, but if one is going to make tracks in the mud and mayhem on the actual, real world, one needs an efficient and capable container. And that's what the Chariot is all about—finding a stable container.

I explained why this is especially important for writers the last time the Chariot rolled into our readings:

A solidly structured ego is a necessary vehicle for your will, especially if you want to take your creative work into the marketplace. Or share it with an audience. Or make it in the first place. The ego is a protective container for all the parts that must be open and receptive and somewhat soft (like our beating hearts and whirring brains). It mediates the forces that move us forward. It prevents the chariot from getting stuck up to the fenders in a sand dune. It keeps us on the right track, moving forward.

I'm trying to remember this as I pack. Because when I find ways to support my ego, I feel much more comfortable actually being myself. And that means I'll be much happier—and much more successful—in the long run.

This week, the Chariot is here to remind you that while you are on the sacred and soulful task of sharing a creative project—or your creative self—with the world, be clear about your boundaries. There will always be rejections and acceptances, pans and praise. Which means you must, as Rudyard Kipling reminds us, "treat those two imposters just the same."

Remember who's holding the reins of this particular chariot. Hint: you are. Which means you are not the chariot

 

This Week's Writerly Tarot: The Eight of Swords

The Eight of Swords describes a moment we all recognize (and might be living again real soon). It's not especially pleasant, but it's not as terrible as it appears on the surface. In fact, that's one of the themes of this card—appearances can be deceiving—which is why the key to understanding it isn't the eight swords surrounding our heroine, it's the scrap of cloth tied around her eyes.

On the surface, it resembles a scene from one of those damsel-in-peril mysteries so popular on the Lifetime network. Bound and blindfolded and barricaded by swords, a woman stands alone on a rock. The sky is a dull gunmetal gray, and she seems lost and forlorn and unsure how to get herself out of the predicament she surely didn't put herself into.

But look again. Our lady bears some responsibility for staying in her situation. She's not seeing things clearly (literally and figuratively). After all, her feet are unbound. The swords do not surround her. Even the ties around her body seem loose. She seems paralyzed by her own fear, which is keeping her in place more effectively than any bindings.

Fear is generated by the mind, and it's meant to be helpful. It wants you to run away, avoid, save yourself. But in this particular situation, it's not doing our lady any good. And in your particular situation—and you probably know what that is—it's doing you no favors either.

This week, consider what fear large or small might be keeping you trapped. What is it about the situation that you aren't seeing? Is there a way to make some small change that might allow you to rip off whatever blinders have settled in place?

Shake off the cords. They weren't really holding you back anyway. Peel up the edge of the blindfold. Take a gander at whatever it is you've been missing.