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.
"The world is violent and mercurial -- it will have its way with you. We are saved only by love -- love for each other and the love that we pour into the art that we feel compelled to share: being a parent, being a writer, being a painter, being a friend. We live in a perpetually burning building, and what we must save from it, all the time, is love." -- Tennessee Williams
And so this week I begin with a prayer, for all of us, but especially those touched personally by the tragedy in Orlando -- may we all open our hearts to the giving and receiving of love. The poet Jack Gilbert's brilliant "A Brief for the Defense" explains that "we must risk delight" in the "brutal furnace of this world."
And so that is what we do this week. We will lay out cards and light candles and say prayers and hug our loved ones. We will share whatever gifts we have. We will come together.
And later this week, when the sun does not feel so raw upon my skin, we will discuss the three cards that will lead us into the Summer Solstice -- Judgment, The Moon, and Temperance. Because there will always be a Solstice for as long as there is a Sun and Earth. We can count on that.
And now we come to Temperance, the third in my Spring Into Summer reading (you can read more about the first card, Judgment, and the second card, The Moon, in previous posts). This is the card that ties our package with a neat bow, but don't worry, the Temperance of the tarot has nothing to do with Prohibition and everything to do with Alchemy.
So first, make yourself a refreshing drink (I suggest a mojito, a cocktail that suits our purposes well—an especially appropriate recipe follows). Then put your feet up, get comfortable, and let's talk alchemy, which for our tarot-centered purposes today can be defined as the philosophical/spiritual study of transmutation and transformation (fine print: that is a very basic definition, a starting point only. But we must start somewhere, yes?)
You
probably already know more about alchemical principles than you think
you do—if you're a Harry Potter fan, you have already read an excellent seven-book primer. Here's J. K. Rowling on the subject of Rubeus Hagrid and Albus Dumbledore (their given names referring to the colors red and white respectively):
"Where my two characters were concerned, I named them for the alchemical colours to convey their opposing but complementary natures: red meaning passion (or emotion); white for asceticism; Hagrid being the earthy, warm, physical man, lord of the forest; Dumbledore the spiritual theoretician, brilliant, idealized and somewhat detached. Each is a necessary counterpoint to the other...."
Opposing but complementary. Necessary counterpoints. Those are the key concepts of Temperance, not any Puritanical restraint. Don't think of doing without; think of tempering steel.
Look at the image. A winged angel come from the air to the earth, one foot in water and one on land, an upward-pointing triangle on her chest (the delta, an alchemical symbol for fire). That's all four classical elements, if you're counting, united by Spirit, represented here by the illumination around her head (an activated crown chakra, for those of you conversant in such things).
In other words, the Whole Shebang. And we haven't even begun to parse out how our angel unites the rest of the cards, which, like Temperance, are all major arcanas, the Great Big Deal cards of the tarot. But I will get to that next week, just in time for us to prepare for the summer solstice.
Stay tuned! Until then, may I present...
The Well-Tempered Mojito
10-12 fresh peppermint leaves
1 to 2 tbsp cane sugar (to your taste)
1 tbsp fresh lime juice
2 oz Very Good Rum (Ten Cane is my choice)
8 oz club soda
Crushed ice
As much of this as one can do for oneself, do. Pick the peppermint. Juice the lime. Crush the ice. Grow the cane and distill the rum if one has a mind to do so. You Yourself are an ingredient, of course, so bring your best and most high quality efforts.
In a 12 oz glass, muddle the mint leaves and sugar and lime juice with a muddler or the back of a spoon. The idea is to extract the oils from the mint
without tearing the leaves, so be gentle. Add the rum and stir until the sugar is dissolved—again, be gentle; there is a reason we're not using a blender here. When the sugar is dissolved, fill the glass with club
soda and ice and stir the mint leaves up from the bottom with a long handled-spoon, preferably ancient and silver. Ponder the mysteries of the universe, and enjoy!
*Alchemy footnote: Like the Temperance card, all the elements are present here—peppermint and lime for fire, sugar for earth, club soda bringing both water and air (effervescence), and the rum providing the uniting factor of Spirit (what? you didn't think liquors were called spirits for no good reason, did you?). There's a nice balance of feminine and masculine energies. Plus the muddling and the juicing and the stirring represent the act of physical transformation, and as such, take effort and finesse and intention.
What is our fine gentleman looking for on the horizon?
Perhaps
it is this week's Writerly Tarot he seeks, which elucidates Temperance,
the third card in my epic Spring Into Summer reading (you can check
out Part 1 and Part 2 of that reading if you'd like a refresher).
But
alas, he won't find it this week. I am discovering I need a little more
time than these past seven days have provided. But I am sure that if he
peers into his crystal ball, he will see Part Three coming up lickety
split on Sunday.
I am absolutely certain it.
And now we come to the second card in my Great Big Spring Into Summer Reading: The Moon. The first card was last week's Judgment; we'll get to Temperance next week. But for now, stretch out in a midnight shadow and look high above the trees—The Moon is beckoning.
The Moon is a card of the senses. It is lush, exotic, slightly taboo in its sense of otherworldly seduction. The Moon beckons. It pulls with tidal, irresistible power. This is the card of the subconscious, and as such, brings with it a knowing that is both deeper and more evanescent than conscious understanding.
It is mystery and emotion. It is fantasy and imagination. Writers should know the feeling it evokes very well. The Moon represents the times when our plot seems to twist away from our control, sliding its sinewy way into uncharted lands. Our characters refuse to cooperate with our plans, moving of their own agency in unexpected and perplexing directions. This is the time of fever dreams and rushing words, of barely being able to keep up with the story bursting onto the page. We feel possessed. Enthralled. Not entirely sane.
Such is the moon. It illuminates, but not in an entirely coherent light, which is something every lunatic understands (and we all have an inner lunatic, every one of us). But how does The Moon connect to Judgment and Temperance? What message could there possibly be in that trilogy?
One clue lies in the imagery of the card itself. The ocean represents the subconscious, the dog and the wolf the baying voices of fear. The path represents our journey out of the subconscious, past our fears, and into. . . . what? The card does not show us. The twin pillars in the distance represent the unknown, the boundary beyond that which you already know. You are being asked to walk through them.
Last week we looked at Judgment as a card of interesting times, of the call that pulls you out of the life you know into the life you were meant to have. The Moon is the portal you must walk through, past your fears and into The Next Thing. As such, both Judgment and The Moon function as cards of initiation.
And so does Temperance.
But we'll get to that dual-natured angel next week. Until then, pay attention to your dreams. Watch for synchronicities. Listen for whispers. The Universe is an engine of revelation, and it has an important message in the works for you.
This tarot thing, it's a practice. That word can be looked at as a verb: to perform (an activity) or exercise (a skill) repeatedly or regularly in order to improve or maintain proficiency. It can also be extended to a related noun: praxis. The practical application of a theory.
And in the case of tarot, the theory we're applying is the theory of divination, the idea that something like a deck of cards—or a set of runes or a group of I-Ching sticks—can be used as a tool for wisdom and guidance. A way to bend the attention of the Universe your way for a short time. As such, it is very personal.
That paradox is the foundation of what I do here each week for you, the members of my writerly tribe. I ask the cards what I, as a creative person, need to know in the coming week. I ask for me, but since the truly personal is also the truly universal, I am also asking for you.
Usually, I pull one card—either randomly or by design—but this week I decided to pull three. It's spring moving into summer, the light growing stronger day by day. It felt like a big time, engaging the larger gears of the celestial clockwork, so to speak, so I decided to honor that feeling with a slightly bigger reading than usual.
The Universe heard my request. Everything but the "slightly," it seems. Because let me tell you, this reading was big. Three major arcanas: Judgment as the central card flanked by Temperance and The Moon.
So no, not big. HUGE.
Which is why I decided to take this reading one card at a time, and then explain the significance of the cards working together. I decided to do this in parts, starting with the card you see on the left.
First of all, don't take the title of the card at its most obvious—this actually isn't a card about judging (which I explain in this post). In fact, many decks prefer to call this card Rebirth, and the most important aspect of it isn't the naked folk rising from the grave or even the angel above—it's the trumpet.
As you might expect, this is no ordinary musical instrument. For starters, it's a trumpet. Trumpets have a very long history, dating back to at least 1500 BC. They were found in Tutankhamun's grave in Egypt, also in China and Peru and Scandinavia. They were played in Solomon's Temple and mentioned many times in the Bible, especially as the symbolic "last trumpet sound" that announces the End of Days. In this sense, they are associated with the archangel Gabriel, the Great Revealer.
So no, not an ordinary instrument. And not an ordinary card.
Judgment reveals that you are at a crossroads. To quote the old Chinese blessing/curse, you are about to enter the Land of Interesting Times. Make no mistake, though—the road ahead is the one you were meant to be on. It may not be the road you wanted. It may not be the road you chose. But it's your road, and as such, it is as royal and rewarding as they come.
For writers and other creative folk, begin listening. Extraordinary trumpets rarely make a lot of noise. They are the still small voices of the creative ether. But once you've caught the note, there's no pretending you haven't.
The Empress is the tarot's equivalent of the Earth Mother: fertile, abundant, giving. It is my gift to you this Mother's Day, when we celebrate this ideal both personally—by thanking our own mothers or by being thanked by our children—and symbolically, by celebrating the idea of mothering.
This week, take the gifts The Empress offers. She is the harbinger of great things being born into the world, but remember: nothing is born without pain and mess. These are her gifts too, the whole of the process.
Open to love. Open to trust. And most of all, open to the cycles and seasons of the Earth, and of yourself, every greening and keening thing. And be grateful for everyone who has mothered you—all the mothers, even the hard ones—along this path.
