We're having quite the all-suit summer—last week was the Five of Cups, the week before the Three of Pentacles. I'm betting the Swords will make themselves known next week. But for now we have an emissary from the suit of Wands, the suit of energy and passion, and what a welcome image this four presents.
We have been visited by this gracious card recently (you can read about that here) but in light of what has gone before, the card has a different flavor this week. The Wands are the suit of creativity, yes, representing the element of fire in all its sparky, jazzy, hot lick glory. Wands do tend to run wild, though, except in this card—the Four tempers all this fiery goodness into a slow, steady burn. Fours contain, which may seem anathema to an energy as vibrant and vital and free as fire, but in some cases, this tension between running free and staying put is a useful one. Think campfire versus forest fire.
Fours can also represent culmination, but I'm not getting that feel this week, at least not in an end-result kind of way. Chances are good, though, that you will be finishing an important stage in a larger project (think of the detail work of the Three of Pentacles) and fully moving through some emotional challenges and discovering some latent good in a situation that seemed very all-is-lost (think of the spilled chalices in the Five of Cups, and the upright cups still remaining to be tasted— thanks to The Daily Compost for that insight!).
The Four of Wands is a moment of celebration. It exists only because we choose its existence, because we honor and hollow a moment of gratitude. This week, string up what garlands as ye may and raise a cheer. You have good work behind you and good work before, and that is truly a blessing.
Oh, but we have all been there. And here we are again.
The Five of Cups turned up earlier this year—you can read about its previous incarnation here—and its energy has not changed. It is still the card of loss and grief, of missed opportunities, of the pain that comes when something that matters very much is gone. Gone is a natural and necessary part of the cycle, of course, but gone is also hard.
Very hard.
We are much more comfortable with the "building up" part of the cycle, construction and manifestation. Having our hopes and dreams become tangible (like last week's Three of Pentacles) appeals to our sense of reward. It gives our actions purpose. Word by word, day after day, and soon enough you've got a novel. Yay us! Accomplishment feels right and good and, darn it, we deserve a little rightness and goodness after we sweated through all that work.
And then there's this guy. AGAIN.
He's always there, of course. Even when we have pushed up our shirtsleeves and gotten to work. Even when the sun is shining with optimism and clarity upon our plans. Even when the Universe Herself is giving us a loving pat on the back.
This week, even if things are going swimmingly for you (and I sure hope they are), make some space for the Five of Cups. The building blocks of success didn't just materialize out of thin air—everything comes from source, and every source material was something else not that long ago. Something that crumbled and dissolved and changed and transmuted. Acknowledge that. Sit with it through whatever discomfort arises. Let it arise. It is actually your friend.
Be grateful for empty spaces. Despite what you have been told, Nature loves a vacuum. Nature rushes to a vacuum with everything she's got.
Roll up your sleeves and let's get to work, people—the Three of Pentacles is in the house.
Since the Pentacles (or Coins or Discs) is the suit of all things foundational and material, it has a lot of advice to offer about work, especially the nuts and bolts and day-to-day practice of it.
Because as any writer knows, putting words on a page is real, often challenging, work. Sometimes inspiration flows; sometimes we're digging spoonfuls of dust from a dry well. Sometimes anything, even cleaning out the proverbial litter box, sounds better than bellying up to our work in progress.
And yet writers write. We show up at the page again and again. We keep our appointments and trust that our Muses will keep theirs. Writing is Pentacle business, sure enough, and this week the Three of Pentacles is here to remind us why that practical aspect of writing is just as important as its more emotional or imaginative components.
Let's start with that word "work." It has connotations of drudgery, unpleasantness. Work is the thing you must do before you can do the thing you want to do. Mystics of an alchemical bent, however, speak of the Great Work, a holy process of becoming, of learning and achieving one's true will and purpose. When we do the thing we are called to do, when we practice our spiritual vocation, we play our part in this great unfolding. The Great Work is huge, yes, but it is composed of our daily work in the same way that a novel is built word by word, each word built letter by letter. In the Great Work, there is no separation between the mystical and mundane except in our thinking.
This understanding is key to the Three of Pentacles. A group of workers gather under a gracefully constructed arch. The brickwork around the arch reveals it to be part of a larger building, but this singular feature holds our workers' attention. One has climbed atop a bench to get a closer look. Another consults what looks like plans or blueprints. They know that this piece matters, that it belongs to a greater creation that can only be achieved by getting this part exactly right. And so that is what they are doing. It is work, yes. But it is also love.
This week, you have work before you. The Three of Pentacles is here to assure you that it is good work, that you are laying a strong foundation for a larger success. Knowing this, seek satisfaction in even the smallest task. Pay attention to the minute details. Get up close. Run your finger along the lines of what you are creating and be grateful that the Universe has placed such a finely wrought piece into your care.
Ready to begin? Then let us begin.
It's definitely a holiday weekend around here at Whittle Central. We're all home, for one, and there are tasty eats being prepared (in our case we're celebrating America by cooking a Mediterranean feast of epic proportions). We're all engaged in various projects, but not a single one of us feels obliged to crack down on our official to-do lists. So no engineering, no opening the college history book, and in my case, not a single bit of PR or promo work or (ack) bookkeeping.
Writing itself? Oh sure, I'll be doing some of that. But it will be purely for the joy of it today, not to make a word count. Maybe I'll treat my characters to a fireworks show and see what other kinds of fireworks might happen. Or maybe I'll let them have a dinner date that doesn't involve a criminal investigation. Regardless, it will be a just-for-fun scene that has no place in the plot-driven mystery novels they inhabit, but that I enjoy writing so very much.
That's the lesson I'm taking from the Ten of Cups, which is a card of well-earned joy. Tens are cards of culmination, and the Cups are the suit of emotions (and how we order and experience them) so a little celebration feels in order. For me, that means I'll be including my fictional people in my activities, but more importantly, I'm making time for my flesh and blood people. The Fourth of July is called Independence Day, but in the middle of all the red, white, and blue, I think what we're truly celebrating is our connection to each other. It takes an us to make a USA. And I have some fine people to call mine.
This week, honor your creative spirit by being grateful for all the joy that it has brought into your life. And be especially grateful for all the people who have helped you along the way -- your family, your friends, your creative tribe. Every hand that has taken yours in encouragement or assistance or camaraderie. All these shared moments are culminating in the right here/right now of who you are. Which is not where you were when you started this creative journey, I am willing to bet.
Happy 4th of July! May it herald a fantastic second half to your 2017!
A mix, done well, is a piece of art. The way themes weave together, images and ideas corresponding and contrasting. The placement of the songs, transitions between them, pacing. Once I learned a little about mixology, just enough to be dangerous, I wanted to make my own, but the process seemed daunting. I'd been in the company of too many works of genius to think I could step up to that particular plate.
But when a friend at church came up with this project, I was intrigued. His idea -- to create a mix based on the Major Arcana of the Tarot -- came without the scary thought of trying to get songs in the right order, the hardest part of making a mix (in my mind anyway). The Tarot has its own order. Ditto on the themes. And not having to worry about all that freed me up to take the first steps toward my very first mix.
Except for the title, which in the end turned out to be the hardest part of all. A friend suggested Tina Whittle and her Ultra-Oracular Extra-Arcane Divination Mix. But it's not oracular, and it's not divinatory. It is mine, however. Kevin called his The Fool's Journey in honor of the first card. So I'm gonna call mine All This and The World As Well, in honor of the last one.
1. The Fool -- "Get Out the Map" by The Indigo Girls
2. The Magician -- "The Man with the Hex" by The Atomic Fireballs
3. The High Priestess -- "West Virginia" by John Linell
4. The Empress -- "Guinnevere" by Crosby, Stills and Nash
5. The Emperor -- "The Queen and the Soldier" by Suzanne Vega
6. The Hierophant -- "John the Revelator" by Depeche Mode
7. The Lovers -- "Breathe" by Maria McKee
8. The Chariot -- "One Way or Another" by Blondie
9. Strength -- "Rain" by Patty Griffin
10. The Hermit -- "Into the Mystic" by The Wallflowers
11. Wheel of Fortune -- "Where I Want To Be" from Chess
12. Justice -- "Cell Block Tango" from Chicago
13. The Hanged Man -- "Big Strong Girl" by Deb Talen
14. Death -- "No One Lives Forever" by Oingo Boingo
15. Temperance -- "Pendulum Swinger" by Indigo Girls
16. The Devil -- "Essence" by Lucinda Williams
17. The Tower -- "A Hard Rain's A-gonna Fall" by Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians
18. The Star -- "Hold On Hope" by Guided by Voices
19. The Moon -- "Brain Damage/ Eclipse" by Pink Floyd
20. The Sun -- "Magnolia Soul" by Ozomatli
21. Judgment -- "Graceland" by Paul Simon
22. The World -- "The Whole Shebang" by Grant Lee Buffalo
1. The Fool -- "Get Out the Map" by The Indigo Girls
"With everything its opposite enough to keep you cryin'/ or keep this old world spinnin' with a twinkle in its eye/ Get out the map, get out the map, and lay your finger anywhere down/ We'll leave the figurin' to those we pass on our way out of town/ Don't drink the water, there seems to be something ailin' everyone/ I'm gonna clear my head, I'm gonna drink that sun."
A card of beginnings, spontaneity, and faith in the face of apparent folly. At card zero, The Fool hangs in the balance, neither beginning nor end. This song addresses paradox -- "the same sun that warms your heart will suck that gutter dry" -- and the movement of time, beginnings in endings, the seed of the ending in the beginning, and the folly -- and necessity -- of faith.
2. The Magician -- "The Man with the Hex" by The Atomic Fireballs
"You remind me of a man (what man?)/ Yeah, the man with the power (what power?)/ Oh, the power of voodoo (who do?)/ Yeah, you do, you do."
I love the drums and horns here, the whole swing rhythm. It's kitschy, of course, but it has the same energy as this card. It gathers to a greatness of sorts, as great as something off the Scooby Doo soundtrack can be. Plus, it shares the wink-wink acknowledgment that this Magician possesses something of the Trickster in him.
3. The High Priestess -- "West Virginia" by John Linell
"Sugar maple's winged seeds/ propellers spinning from the tree/ rhododendron evergreen/ look within and you will see/ there's another deep inside you and inside the other one there is another/ in the other."
There's a Russian nesting doll on my altar, and it's there because of this song, which captures the inward focus of the High Priestess, the potential and the mystery, the spiraling down from the obvious surface to the hidden depths.
4. The Empress -- "Guinnevere" by Crosby, Still, and Nash
"Guinnevere had green eyes/ like yours, m'lady, like yours/ she'd walk down through the garden in the morning after it rained/peacocks wandered aimlessly underneath an orange tree."
I wanted a song that captured the organic bounty of this card, its lavish easy abundance, and this song does it even without the significance of the name Guinnevere, which is a version of Gwenhwyfar, the Welsh Goddess who embodied the natural world, made mortal so that King Arthur could literally unite with the Land. Her name means "White Phantom" and she is often depicted as the Queen of the May . . . which makes her even more appropriate to represent The Empress. With her, "we shall be free."
5. The Emperor -- "The Queen and the Soldier" by Suzanne Vega
"And she never once took the crown from her head."
The Emperor represents order, structure, and authority -- and the price that they exact. I like this song because it shows how the craving for control can hide a startling vulnerability, and because it shows what people will do to protect that vulnerability, even a woman with a face like a child's. Maybe even especially such a woman.
6. The Hierophant -- "John the Revelator" by Depeche Mode
"By claiming God as his only right/ he's stealing a God from the Israelite/ stealing a God from the Muslin too/ There is only one God, through and through."
When religion becomes what the Hierophant forces it to be -- a conformity to a rigid group think -- it betrays the very same Divinity that it seeks to illuminate. God/Goddess/Holy Spirit has the integrity of the whole, not a piece hammered out to certain specifications. To believe in the piece is to commit idolatry.
7. The Lovers -- "Breathe" by Maria McKee
"My heart beats your blood, your breath fills my lungs/ Your heart beats my blood, my breath fills your lungs."
In contrast to the Hierophant, this card is NOT about the group -- it is about as personal as it can get, literally wrapped up in each other, blurring the boundaries between self and other. And the songs ramps up the desperation and fear and ecstasy that often accompany such union.
8. The Chariot -- "One Way or Another" by Blondie
"One way or another/ I'm gonna find you/ I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha."
If there could be road music for driving a chariot, it would be this song, especially if you were driving said chariot on a stalking mission. Talk about taking the reins and exerting one's will. It also has that element of making one's choice into reality, of trying to control two unruly beasts that tends to charge off in different directions. Only in this case, the two options -- one way or another -- are really just the same thing.
9. Strength -- "Rain" by Patty Griffin
"Strange how hard it rains now/ grows in rows of big dark clouds/ but I'm holding on underneath this shroud/ praying."
Sometimes being strong means just holding on, quietly. Laying your head in the jaws of the beast and just willing them not to close on you. Sometimes strength is a powerful gentleness.
10. The Hermit -- "Into the Mystic" by The Wallflowers
"Let your soul and spirit fly."
The Hermit is a card about going inside, but it's also a quest card, a card of searching for whatever it is that is both inside and out. It's about withdrawing from the world, yes, but into something interior that is larger than the exterior (which sounds like a paradox, and I guess it is, but it makes sense -- bigger on the inside than on the outside). This song has that same feeling, of coming home into truth and beauty and love bigger than you thought they could ever be. Magnificently.
11. Wheel of Fortune -- "Where I Want To Be" from Chess
"When the crazy wheel slows down/ where will I be?/ Back where I started."
I fell in love with the musical Chess the second I saw "One Night in Bangkok" on Friday Night Videos. The whole East/West defection plotline seems hopelessly dated now, but the idea that you can step into an identity that carries you ever more swiftly away from who you were, that you can get sucked under that current so easily unless you swim for your life, that at some point your choice of direction dissolves and all you can do is keep from drowning . . . Yes. But. There is always a choice, even when the universe seems to be crunching you in its gears. Sometimes you can't see the choice. Sometimes someone else may have to point it out to you. But there is always a choice even on the wildest ride, even if it's simply the choice to keep your eyes open instead of shutting them tight.
12. Justice -- "Cell Block Tango" from Chicago
"He had it coming/ He had it coming/ He only had himself to blame/If you'd a been there/ if you'd a seen it/ I betcha you would have done the same."
Boy, after hearing this song, I just wanna grab some heartless bastard and kick his ass. Well, not really. In the end, all you really hear behind the anger and sharply faceted bitterness of this song is a complete lack of understanding. Because each murderess had it coming too. And then the cell door slams. They have mistaken vengeance for justice, a substitution this card would never allow. This is a card of cause and effect, as is this song.
13. The Hanged Man -- "Big Strong Girl" by Deb Talen
"Come on, come on, lay it down/ the best laid plans/ come on, come on, lay it down/ are your open hands."
The Hanged Man is all about the Letting Go -- releasing emotions, accepting what is, giving up control and learning this lesson: "don't push so hard against the world." It's upside down and paradoxical that surrendering can be a strength, but this card says believe it.
14. Death -- "No One Lives Forever" by Oingo Boingo
"And I'm very quick, but don't forget/ we've only got so many tricks/ no one lives forever."
Since the Death card is all about transformation and cycles and rhythms, I wanted a happy happy song here, to celebrate the paradox of this card. So "drink a toast and down the cup and drink to bones that turn to dust."
15. Temperance -- "Pendulum Swinger" by Indigo Girls
"Doesn't come by the bullwhip/ It's not persuaded with your hands on your hips/ it's not the company of gunslingers/ the epicenter love is a pendulum swinger."
Okay, this breaks the "only one song per artist" rule, but I break rules for the Girls. This song deserves a shot, especially since it demonstrates the essence of this card -- balance, even in the extremes, especially in the extremes, since extremes are necessary for this card. And it all comes back to center.
16. The Devil -- "Essence" by Lucinda Williams
"Baby, sweet baby, you're my drug."
I think the essence of the Devil and the essence of "Essence" are the same: bondage and helplessness and the lure thereof. It starts off pretty sweet, but then that first plunge hits and you realize the territory you've gotten yourself into now that you've stepped over the boundary. The Devil also represents all that is taboo, the shadow side that must be reintegrated if the self is to be whole, and this song hits that note as well with its waiting and stalking, its "flirt with death," and its search for essence (which can, in the end, never be found anywhere but inside -- that's what the singer doesn't get yet).
17. The Tower -- "A Hard Rain's A-gonna Fall" by Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians
"But I'll know my song well before I start singing."
Even Death isn't as frightening as this card -- lightning and devastation and tumbling into churning surf, dashed on the rocks. You crash into chaos -- down down -- and then, the revelation. That's this song to me -- people starving and people laughing, dead oceans and sad forests, places where none is the number. And then, after, your voice again.
18. The Star -- "Hold On Hope" by Guided by Voices
"Everybody's got a hold on hope/ It's the last thing/ that's holding me."
This card is the hope card to me -- I cannot see it without being inspired. There is a serenity on it, and peace. I don't think this song has peace yet -- there is still a sense of need and despair -- but it has an eye on something higher. In the mud, maybe, but looking at the stars. This isn't a card of solutions, but it is a card of faith, of "reaching out for the hand that we can't see" -- and finding it there.
19. The Moon -- "Brain Damage/ Eclipse" by Pink Floyd
"There's someone in my head, but it's not me."
When I see this card, I feel a kind of dazed delirious feeling, like I'm about to come down from a drug trip of some sort, on the edge of lucidity, the very boundary of it . . . but not quite. And as befits a card that occupies subterranean psychic lands, this piece is a dreamy stupor, half-shadowed, bizarre, fantastic. Mad, utterly mad, yet also utterly sane. Another paradox, but what else would one expect in a place so disorienting that truth masquerades as a hallucination?
20. The Sun -- "Magnolia Soul" by Ozomatli
"We gonna make them saints march on again."
The Sun always comes up after the dark dark night. This song captures that feeling of breakthrough and invigoration, the confidence and optimism of a breaking day.
21. Judgment -- "Graceland" by Paul Simon
"Maybe I'm obliged to defend every love, every end/or maybe there's no obligations now/ maybe I've reason to believe we all will be received in Graceland."
Absolution. That is the nature of this card despite its very heavy-sounding title. It comes with a sense of appraisal, of course, of separating wheat from chaff. But in the end, what gets blown away is the guilt and regret -- we are all found to be enough. Perfect. Cleansed and forgiven. When you hear this call, follow it -- it comes with hope.
22. The World -- "The Whole Shebang" by Grant Lee Buffalo
"We'll take the whole shebang/ all or nothing, anything/ Ecstasy's the birthright of our gang/ we'll take the whole she-bang/ free your heart from guilt and shame/come and claim what's yours, the whole shebang."
Integration, accomplishment, fulfillment. The World delivers, but only if we claim it. To hold the world in our hands, we must give ourselves to it. Another paradox, like all the Tarot, like the way this song shifts from soft twinkling to full on dancehall. Like that. Just like that.
The Earth is spinning her way around the Sun in a dance older than every story we have ever told, soon to be at one of the year's two solstice peaks. For those of us here in the Northern Hemisphere, this is the Summer Solstice approaching, the longest day of the year. The word "solstice" has its root in in stillness, and so that is what we are doing this week—slowing down and looking at the Universe in a grain of sand.
Or a spread of cards.
I've been analyzing the three-card reading I did over a month ago, one that turned out to be rather monumental—Judgment, The Moon, and Temperance (you can read my individual analyses by clicking on any of the previous). As in the above illustration, Judgment was the central card in the spread, the thematic statement of the reading, its message flavored by and echoed in the two supporting cards. So let's start there.
Judgment is the card of the calling, and as such, shows up at times when the Universe is delivering a summons (being "called" is a feature of all the cards in this spread, a through-line that gives us the major theme of the reading). Judgment features the angelic messenger Gabriel blowing upon his celestial trumpet, waking the departed from their graves, and as such it calls to parts of us that perhaps we have thought long-dead. It bids us to rise and come forth and—and this is the most important part—heed the call.
That's your first question—what are you being called to do? Since this is a celestial call, you'll feel it in your bones, which are made of stardust. This call might scare you—angels are not exactly the bland pastel presences that greeting cards make them out to be. They are the messengers of all that matters and can be frankly terrifying, with beating wings and rushing air. So there might be fear associated with this call, perhaps a deep existential kind. Your rational brain will probably try to hold you back from leaping to this call, terror being one of its clues that maybe you are venturing too close to the edge/the sun/the monster/the unknown. It responds to this cue like a dog to a whistle.
Such is fear, which is the most primal of protective responses. It's a huge part of the second card, The Moon, too. The Moon beckons you to move forward, from the waters of the subconscious and past the baying wolf and hound, up the crooked path and between the imposing pillars. The Moon send up the warning that whatever you are being called to do, it will have a nightmare or two attached. But all calls that matter come with fear because all calls that matter come with the threat of loss. So ponder for a while on these moonlit shores—what are you attached to that is preventing you from answering this call? What do you fear might happen if you say yes to it?
Take some time with this step. Call your fears up from the deep. Look at them clearly. Sit with them for a while. This is the hard part, but it is necessary preparation for the second angel, Temperance.
A
lchemists describe the process that Temperance initiates as solve et coagula—dissolve and coagulate—and as you might expect, people sometimes have a harder time with the breaking apart of things than the coming together. But breaking must happen. This is how the building blocks of whatever is coming next will be formed, in the ash and crush of something returning to source. Think atomic energy. Think combustion. Think raw materials. Temperance may be compassionate, and deliberate, but she is not necessarily gentle.
As you can tell, this is no fortune cookie reading. This is Big Deal Stuff. Yesterday I posted about love, and how this is the only thing that can save us in this burning world. This reading compels you to love as fiercely as you can through whatever art you make—writing, painting, singing, sculpting, playing, moving, acting, dancing, praying, storytelling—and to do it now. Release whatever you must to make room for that love to thrive in this world, even if that means letting go of a fear that seems to be keeping you safe. Share your art with others, and receive theirs in return. This will make you wildly vulnerable. Do it anyway.
You have been gifted. It is time to unwrap that gift and take it out of the box. It really really is.
