This Week's Writerly Tarot: The Six of Pentacles

Ah yes. This card.

Some tarot readers say the Six of Pentacles is the only card in the deck that reads the same way right side up as it does reversed. That is to say, it's a card of energy exchange, and as such, it describes a movement, not a static collection of pieces-parts. And movement, especially that guided by the hand of Karma, is hard to pin down into topside and otherways.

Things seem obvious in the image. It's easy to see who's giving (the rich guy) and who's receiving (the beggars at his feet). The scales are balanced. But the card asks you to look deeper. Exchanges never flow one way only, and the act of giving/receiving is no different. It is a relationship, a connection. It is reciprocal. We are all cogs in the Machine of Larger Cycles, each action a tiny whirring gear turning the giant wheels of time and space and human potential. Receiving fuels the engine as much as giving; they are both parts of the same clockwork.

I hear you saying, "Yes, but what does this have to do with my writing? Right now? No rich people with handy portable scales here. No golden coins hovering in the air either."

Well . . . no. We writers may traffic in symbol, but they rarely show up so blatantly in our mundane worlds. And you're so busy, what with all the planning and outlining and submitting and revising and -- you know -- putting actual words on the page, who has time to interpret such an image? Couldn't I just slap a nice inspiring Facebook meme up there?

Oh very well. Here.

Photo by OLU

As for the Six of Pentacles, remember -- no man is a self-made island. No woman either. With apologies to Blanche DuBois, we all exist on the kindness of strangers. For some people, giving is hard (see last week's post on the Five of Swords and scarcity mentality). For others, especially those accustomed to having enough to be a generous giver, receiving is way out of the comfort zone. Both are required, however. They are the yin and yang of everything. Every gift requires a recipient, and you do your part in the great infinity loop when you show up whole-hearted for both roles.

Writers share time and words with readers; readers share time and money with writers. Writers share encouragement with each other, and sometimes more concrete gifts -- a recommendation, a review, a hand up the ladder. We celebrate the sold-out signing and commiserate when That Guy on Amazon writes an addle-minded review.

This week, consider all the actions of giving and receiving that you participate in. Be conscious in them. Be fully present for them in all their joy and squinchiness. There may be a beneficence coming your way. Or an empty hand extended. Or you may be the one reaching out in one fashion or the other.

Regardless, you know what to do. Take a deep breath. You got this.

This Week's Writerly Tarot: The Five of Swords

Uh oh.

That's all I can say for us this week, writerly folk. Nobody likes to see the Five of Swords pop up. Indeed, the Swords as a whole are renowned for their double-edged ways. Swing them with proficiency and precision, and they're dead useful -- swing them with malice and/or clumsiness, and they're dead dangerous. Which is to be expected for a suit associate with all things mental -- to paraphrase the old saying, a mind is a terrible thing to let loose without any balance from the heart or body or soul.

So now we have the Five, traditionally associated with slander and betrayal, with dirty deeds done and not a small amount of gloating. Also winning. Lots of winning going on here, though it will come at a price, you betcha.

So what to do? Our first impulse is to watch our backs, be on guard for Those Who Have It In For Us. And, okaaayyyyy, there's something of that in this card.

But let's look deeper for a second, shall we? This energy exists only if one has a scarcity mindset, which goes some like this: there's only so much pie, better grab my slice. In the creative world, this translates into only so many readers, only so many good reviews, only so much attention, better grab my slice.

No. Just no.

Being creative is to participate in abundance. The well will not run dry. Do not be envious of others' successes (not even E.L. James's). Do not schadenfreude over others' come-uppances (not even E. L. James's).

Tap your source. Do your work. Honor your process. Share and receive. Let Karma, the Great Mistress of Tit-For-Tat, write the rest of the scene.

This Week's Writerly Tarot: Strength

There are times when you need to push hard and push fast, muster every ounce of willpower you have and exert it with force and discipline.

This week is not one of those times.

This week calls for Strength, a card the demonstrates a more nuanced approach to control, one that might not come easily to mind when confronted with an angry lion. Slavering beasts with pointy teeth bring out the "gotta get that thing in a cage, and quick" mentality.

But notice the woman of this card. No whips, no chairs. She's not combative, not demanding. The lion does not resist her touch; indeed, the creature seems almost tame. How does she do it?

The key is soft control, and that begins with compassion and empathy. Despite their reputation, these are muscular responses, hence the title of this card. The infinity sign above her head is another important clue as to the meaning here -- the quality of mercy is not strained; neither is it finite. There is always an abundance to tap, if we can learn to open our hand and let it flow.

What in your life are you trying to beat into submission? A project, an attitude, a fear? Strength reminds you that the most impressive muscle at your disposal is your heart, not your biceps. Stop wrestling your demons. Befriend them. Pluck whatever thorns you can find from their paws. You might find that monster in need of defeating is actually a pussycat.

This Week's Writerly Tarot: The King of Wands

Are you a mover and shaker this week? Or perhaps you feel more among the shaken and

moved? Either way, meet the gentleman* responsible for whatever seismic goings-on are rumbling in your world, especially your creative one.

Kings are the cards of action, of exterior, of the wide world. They are the bringers of expertise and resources, the ones who grease the wheels. Wands are the suit of creative energy, the fire and passion that burns within us, the energy we release whenever we put our talents to work. The King of Wands is will made manifest, and as such, he has little time for logic-debating or day-dreaming or detail-obsessing. He's a "get on with it" kind of man.

So your question this week is simple: are you the actor in this situation, or are you the acted upon?

In creative endeavors, we find both types of energy. Being a writer is often solitary work. Most days, you are your very own boss, for better or worse, and the King of Wands urges you to seize the day, make your mark . . . all those fiery masculine activities that are sometimes difficult for people accustomed to working from a desk. Fix your crown firmly on your head, make your plans, and move forward as if the seas of the world will part before you. That's the King of Wands way.

However . . .

There are days when you're not the King. Creative fields have many kings -- editors and agents, publishers and critics -- who often have sweeping control over your life, and the best you can do some days is avoid getting your head chopped off (which is a massive accomplishment, don't ever forget). Of course some days you are granted an audience, an opportunity you must make the most of. Kings can be headstrong, hard to influence, as difficult to turn as a hurricane. But do try. This King may burn fearfully bright, but under the right circumstances, he is as generous with his fire as Prometheus.

Some days you are the King. Some days you meet the King. In either case, remember: forward ho, and hold your head up high.

*In the tarot, Kings represent a very masculine energy, but in the real world, that energy can be expressed by any gender. 

Writerly Tarot for the Week: The Ace of Swords

You know what you need? You need a breath of fresh air. And a giant sword.

Here you go! You're welcome!

It's a bracing bit of cool logic, the Ace of Swords, and if your writerly week is starting out anything like mine, you'll want to grab it with both hands. Careful, there. The Ace of Swords is not for show. That blade cuts true and deep and swift. You'll want to bring all your carefully honed attention into play before your wrap your fingers around that hilt.

But once you've got it in hand, once you've tested its heft and edge, here are some tasks you can put this fine piece of steel to:

* Feeling muddled and confused? This Sword will cut through any nebulous gray funk gathering in the corners of your brain like so many cranial cobwebs. Swish and swish! Now doesn't that look brighter? You know better than anyone else what cleans your mental clock (in a good way, I mean). Yoga. Meditation. Sudoku. Get some of whatever works. Get it now.

* Somebody looking to pick a fight with you? This week, a sharp tongue and a rapier wit are yours for the brandishing. One word of warning -- this Sword is particularly sharp, and not especially merciful. Thick twice before you swing it.  I suggest you take your mental and verbal acuity to the page. Let your characters slice and dice each other -- spare your friends and family the bloodletting.

* Having a hard time maintaining boundaries? Finding time? Setting priorities? The Ace of Swords will cut through the clutter, carve out time and space. It will do it clean. But it will not always do it painlessly. Writers often require solitude and separateness to do their deep work, and this Sword will prove an excellent tool in that endeavor. It will provide. Just don't forget to put it back in its scabbard when the work is done, so that your nearest and dearest know it's safe to approach. But keep it sharp regardless -- remember that old kitchen adage about dull knives being the most dangerous? The same is true of swords.

All in all, the Ace of Swords is an auspicious card for any mental endeavor, especially those involving rationality and logic. It's a whoosing rush of pure brain power, and it fuels communication both written and oral. Just remember -- this is a blade that cuts both ways. Wield it with respect. Use it wisely. And don't fall too much in love with its shiny slicing prowess.

Writerly Tarot for the Week: Nine of Pentacles

Ah, now this is better. The Nine of Pentacles is one of my favorite cards, as it is often described as the card of the self-made woman. Just look at her, standing there on her own two feet. She is independence personified, dressed in a richly embroidered gown, gold coins literally rolling at her feet. It's a lush card, and like all the nines, a mix of both past actions and the eventual results of those actions.

But the key to this card isn't the money or the wardrobe -- it's the falcon on her arm.

Make no mistake, that's one wild bird. Fierce. A predator. And yet our lady has him lightly perched on one hand.

Writers court such wildness, but if you've come this far in your creative journey, you know that wildness does not respond to being chased. Wildness comes to stillness. We must learn to be composed and self-contained to develop a relationship with the part of us which flies clean and high. The part of us that swoops in ever-widening gyres, but which -- with trust and proper care -- will always return to our arm.

This week, take some time to make yourself a resting place for your fine feathered Muse. The creative spirit can be fierce and free, but if you cultivate some time alone, in some garden metaphorical or otherwise, it will come to you. And it will prove to be a faithful companion.

Writerly Tarot for the Week: The Seven of Wands (Again) Plus The King of Swords

Apparently, the concept of "lazy days of summer" is lost on you and me, dear reader. For here we are again with the Seven of Wands (previously seen here, warning us of chore creep and reminding us to cherish the real reason we do what we do).

Because we are still beating back the world with our stick. And the world just keeps on coming.

So I asked the deck for a little further enlightenment (we're allowed to do that, you know. If the messages you're getting from the Universe are muddled or muddy or inexplicable, you're allowed to say, "A little clarification, please."). Because apparently there's something still going on here, something we need to be addressing.

I drew the King of Swords, one of the court cards. There are twelve of these in the tarot deck, four for each suit (you can see contemporary echoes of this court in the face cards of a deck of playing cards). In the tarot, Kings represent action and authority, and Swords the suit of mental expression. The King of Swords has a clue about how we should handle all the continuing chaos surrounding us, and his advice has nothing to do with waving a stick around.

This King suggests that instead of rushing about and trying to exert order on a messy world, we should take a step inward into the one thing that we can control -- our own minds. Our brains are our best friends in many ways, but they can also be tricky, demanding, and deceitful. Meditation teachers will tell you that the human mind is like an unhousebroken puppy -- it must be brought gently and firmly to the newspaper where it can do its business. Hitting it with a stick will not help it learn. Treating it with loving discipline will.

So this week, when the chaos crackles and swirls like heat lightning, don't pick up a stick and try to beat the world into submission. Instead, disengage yourself from the situation. Breathe in and out. Soothe your mind until it is as clear and free of thoughts as the blue sky.

And the rest will follow.