This Week's Writerly Tarot: The Ace of Swords

There's a hurricane threatening my neck of the woods, a vast Category Five onslaught of ill winds and massive destruction. Predicting its landfall is difficult right now—there are too many high and low pressure systems at play—but that doesn't make this kind of storm random. Oh no, a hurricane is a deterministic beast. Like all forces of nature, it is subject to rules and laws and factors. And that is why it is a particularly apt metaphor for the Ace of Swords.

You can read a summary of the card here. When it flashes into view, the Ace of Swords asks us to consider the mental aspects of our situation, how our mind can either help us solve a problem or play tricks on us. A clever creature, our brain. So much of its mechanisms remain separate from our understanding, just like the forces that shape the path of a storm.

And just like storm, our mental powers can be used for good or evil, to help or to hurt. They can challenge the status quo as deftly as they topple the best laid plans.

Right now, there is a panic sweeping the Eastern seaboard from Miami to Charleston, South Carolina. It is fueled partly by memory and partly by anticipation. Emergency preparation has at its heart logic and common sense, but it's easily corrupted by anxiety and fear. Like the Ace of Swords, our mental sharpness cuts both ways.

This week, I am prepping for a hurricane. And I am doing my best to be flexible in the face of such winds. Bendy like the willow, that's my motto. May it be yours as well.

This Week's Writerly Tarot: An Equinox Reading

Last Thursday, 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.

That moment occurred on Thursday at 10:21 AM EDT. So I am a little late getting to my equinox reading this week. 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.

But how do we know a beneficial wand from an overwhelming one? How do we spot the tipping point before it's too late? The next two cards are the key: The Sun and the Ace of Pentacles.

The Sun is also a simple card (it last graced our presence only a few weeks ago, here, and also rose during the winter solstice, here). It brings illumination, enlightenment, optimism, and good cheer to our situation. Follow your bliss, Joseph Campbell instructed us. The Sun lights the path to it. Just turn your face—and your talents—toward that which warms you, that which energizes you, that which nurtures you.

Because the Ace of Pentacles is here to remind us that good productive work is one of the truest forms of bliss. It last showed up here, a smack-in-the-face reminder that I needed to get to work. But this week, it has a different message.

There is a saying attributed to Thomas Mann: A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people. As the suit of material concerns (think job and home and finances and health), the Pentacles describe how we integrate such practical needs into our spiritual practice, how we find joy in the mundane.

The Ace represents the energy of this suit in its clearest, most distilled, most potent form—pure potential. In the same way that all matter is really energy holding hands real tight, the Ace is both right-now and all-that-might-be. When you do good work—and only you can know what that is—you are tapping that potential. Your potential. Where the finite meets infinite possibility. And there you are, surfing on the edge of the wildest of the wild waves.

This week, take a breath from all the busyness that you are surely caught up it. The equinox is a moment, and so is this reading, a snapshot of place and time. Remember your bliss. Connect to your joy. Do your best work right now. And in doing so, prepare for the next season.

This Week's Writerly Tarot: The Ace of Cups

So it's Monday afternoon, and I am just now remembering that I haven't written up this week's tarot post. It's been crazy around here First, my latest release came out a month early (!!!). Then the usual spring break jumble of getaways and family visits and road trips happened. Throw in some flu and allergies and foot surgery...

It's enough to make any girl wanna retreat, possibly into a spa, definitely for a good long while.

But then we have the Ace of Cups to remind us — go with the flow, it says. Because life is always flowing.

And flow can feel very much like chaos. Which it is and isn't. Fluid dynamics provides equations that can predict the overall patterns of liquids in a state of flow, but at best it's describing how things will happen, not what will happen. Stirring a spoonful of cream into your coffee will have a predictable outcome, but trying to foresee the exact bouncing and swirling of molecules is a doomed endeavor.

So don't try. Don't even.

This week, hold high the Ace of Cups. It is reminiscent of last week's Three of Cups in that it encourages you to partake joyously.  And to remember that when life is in full flow, don't get out the anchor. Get out your surfboard.

This Week's Writerly Tarot: The Ace of Pentacles

Contrary to public opinion, tarot isn't a set of prescribed meanings. It's a library of shades and shadows, themes and symbols. It reveals itself in connections and side roads, memories and subconscious imagery. It's a journey, not a destination.

And yet, sometimes the tarot can be slap-in-your-face direct.

Like this week.

The Ace of Pentacles, the apex of its suit, the essence of practicality and foundation. Oh, it heralds success and riches and financial wonderfulness — the suit is also called "coins" for a reason — but the kind of wealth it references isn't of the sudden windfall type. It's not the lucky strike of a lottery win. Rather, it's the kind that comes after perseverance and dedication and lots and lots of hard work.

So the message this week? Get back to work. Sometimes that's all you need to know, and all you need to do.

See you at the keyboard!

This Week's Writerly Tarot: The Ace of Swords and The Star

It's a two-tarot-cards-for-the-price-of-one deal this week, and boy howdy, do we need it.

If you follow the stars, you know that we're in the first week of the last Mercury Retrograde of 2015, which will be ending on October 9th. Mercury retrograde occurs when the planet seems to be moving backwards in the sky, and until it appears to move forward again, all kinds of muckety-muck can foul the gears, especially in all endeavors travel and technology and communication related.

Which sounds like a nightmare to all you writerly types, I know. E-mails getting lost or misunderstood, computers hiding files or catching on fire. Flat tires and delayed planes and trains not training properly. Ugh.

However, if you switch up your perspective, the energy of Mercury retrograde can be used in an effective manner. My brilliant friend Sara Amis refers to it as "the scapegoat planet" because every ill wind for these three weeks gets blamed on Mercury heaving itself backwards in the sky. As if planets do that. No, people do that (remember, a retrograde only looks backwards, which makes it a perspective challenge, not a roadblock challenge).

So yes, switch it up. Relax into lateness as an exercise in non-resistance (you Buddhists out there know what I'm talking about). Back up your files as a practice in prevention. Appreciate the weirdness and odd quirks that flavor your landscape. Mercury retrograde is a great time for anything with an re- in front if it -- redo, revise, reorganize, revisit. Recover. Reconstruct. Remember.

Re-imagine.

The tarot has some tools to help you. This week two cards came up, one drawn by me -- the Ace of Swords -- and the other a "jumping card" -- The Star --  which is a card that makes itself known in other ways, like falling out of the deck.

For a well-needed dose of mental clarity, there's the Ace of Swords (see its previous appearance for further details). Use it to slash away all that does not serve, clearing the space for you to bring forth that which does. Caveat to the wise -- the chaotic energy of Mercury Retrograde tampers with communication, so re-check your words before they leave your mouth or keyboard. Make sure that the Swords' penchant for cutting truths and sharp assessments doesn't slice too deeply by erring on the side of diplomacy and compassion.

From the Tarot Art of Thalia Took

Luckily, The Star asserted itself, so there should lots of good nurturing energy to help you do that. The Star is a card of hope and balance. It asks nothing of you but to be fully present in the moment -- a moment that has both grounding and flow -- and search for a light that will guide your way.

Because there's always a light. And it remains fixed and steady, especially in times of flux. Seek yours, and set your feet to the path forward.

It's just a retrograde. Fasten your seatbelts. You'll be fine.

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.