Divination Exchange: Next Six Weeks

Sun: taurus (earth/fixed), 6:12am - 8:21pm
Moon: waxing crescent, cancer (water/cardinal)
Earth: chilly and even somewhat blustering, with rain on and off all day, the morning starting out bright sunny and beautiful, giving way to steady rain and then gray chill

Jeff and I decided to do an experiment tonight — a divination exchange in which we each did a reading for each other. The question we focused on was, "What advice do you have for [us] between now (Beltaine) and the Summer Solstice?"

Interestingly, we both ended up with readings with an energy flow moving from left to right (we use Robert Place's method of interpretation), making the three card spread pretty close to your typical past-present-future layout. Both of our readings seem to have to do with new projects of some kind, with caution not to burn out or push too hard, though the specifics were different for each of us. There's also some strong themes about the relationship between love and death in the left-most card, corresponding to some of the more mystic/ecstatic themes of Beltaine I was writing about recently.

Below is the reading Jeff did for me, followed by the reading I did for him. He used Robert Place's Buddha Tarot deck, while I used my usual Shadowscape Tarot. I stuck with just the simple three-card spread, while Jeff felt moved to pull a fourth "clarification" card for his reading. (He also wanted to spend some time in meditation on the cards, but was feeling really tired and so didn't get much out of it as a result).

Advice for Ali

(reading by Jeff)

Future Empress | Ace of Jewels | Six of Jewels
The Middle Path

Future Empress - This is the Buddha's wife. Before he became the Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama lived with his father, the king; and his father wished him to marry. He asked for women to come from all over the kingdom to visit Siddhartha if they wished to be his princess. He provided Siddhartha with gifts, so that the young prince could welcome them. Siddhartha welcomed them all graciously (and there were a great many), but when the last one arrived — Yasodhara — there were no gifts left. Siddhartha found himself completely captivated by her; and so he took his own royal ring from his finger and gave it to her to welcome her. They fell deeply in love, and were married.

Siddhartha's father was sure that the love of the beautiful Yasodhara would keep Siddhartha's mind occupied with the doings of this world, so that he would fulfil the prophesy by becoming a mighty emperor. But Siddhartha's love for Yasodhara (and the son she bore him) was so deep that it went far beyond earthly pleasures. Shortly after his son was born, they threw a great party, and there was dancing and drinking. Late at night, Siddhartha woke and saw all the dancers, and his wife and child, lying asleep in the moonlight. To him they seemed as if dead. This served to harden his resolve to free them all from death and suffering; so — out of love — he left them there and went away to find out how to release everyone forever.

This card corresponds to the Empress in the standard Tarot. It is a card of fertility, beauty, love, and the attractive power of desire. Associated strongly with Venus.

Ace of Jewels - Ace of Jewels corresponds to the Ace of Pentacles. New projects, especially in the physical world. The Jewel is associated at one level with satifying physical desire, but at a deeper level with satisfaction through release of desire. The Buddha presented "Three Jewels" to comfort his followers as they followed away: the Buddha himself (as an example of enlightenment), the Dharma (his teaching), and the Sangha (the monk community of fellowship).

Six of Jewels - Six of Jewels is the Six of Pentacles. In this deck it especially represents generosity and the rewards of those who are generous. Generosity: there are five basic rules of conduct in Buddhism: do not cause harm, do not steal, do not consume toxins, do not commit sexual misconduct, and do not lie. Each of these basic rules is paired with a positive version: develop love and peace, be generous, cultivate awareness, cultivate contentment, and be truthful. Generosity helps one release attachments to property and other things we think we own, such as our time, our reputations, and so on.

The Middle Path - While Siddhartha was seeking enlightenment, he was a student of many teachers. One common kind of practice in India at this time was asceticism, in which the body was put under great stresses, such as fasting, self-harm, and the like. The idea was that by denying the pleasures (and needs) of the flesh, one could rise above it. Siddhartha was extremely good at this, and many of his teachers were sure he was going to be a great yogi. He gathered followers of his own, who were amazed at his devotion. Eventually he pushed himself so close to death that he could barely eat or drink at all; but still he was no closer to salvation. The desire for enlightenment itself had become a barrier to enlightenment. So he gave up on it and began to nurse himself back to health. His followers, not understanding, and disgusted at his weakness, left him; but he didn't care. After a little more time, as he sat begging, a woman brought him a big bowl of rice. He took this and divided it into 49 parts, deciding to eat this over the next 49 days as he sat in meditation under the bodhi tree. He resolved not to get up from that spot until he had achieved enlightenment.

The commentary card, The Middle Path, corresponds to the Temperance card. There is a lot of energy in this reading, a lot of motion, and my intuition is that the Temperance card is there to advise taking it easy with the new project and not burning out on it.

Advice for Jeff

(reading by Ali)

Judgement | Hanged Man | Page of Pentacles

Judgement (XX) - A call to new beginnings, restoration and wholeness, absolution and forgiveness. New life arising from death, a time of joy and rebirth. The trials and tribulations have passed and you are called, by destiny or a greater purpose, into renewed life in the light of a new dawn. Also, a time to reflect on the past and understand how the actions of yesterday have helped to shape today.

Hanged Man (XII) - Self-sacrifice, especially for the greater good. A time of release and surrender, letting go of the effort and will normally exerted towards concrete or practical accomplishments; instead, withdrawing into solitude, contemplation or more mystic/"spiritual" pursuits. "Turning the world upside down" to gain new perspective. This may be a period of difficulty - it depends on how willing or unwilling the sacrifice is.

Page of Pentacles - Opportunities for new growth and prosperity, a spark of initiative and potential offered. Grounded in earthy qualities like diligence, responsibility and practicality - relying on the tools and resources at hand - there is still a certain lightness and playfulness that accompanies every new beginning or intriguing opportunity. Also suggests an enjoyment of physical pleasures of the five senses, possibly in particular an engagement in nature (perhaps a literal garden?).

The Story - The energy of the cards doesn't seem to have one clear direction. The Angel of Judgement faces to the left to sound her call, but both the Hanged Man and the Page seem to face forward or out of the card (though the Hanged Man's body is turned to face towards the right, his head hangs down so that he's looking almost behind him). Considering the association of the Judgement card with the events of the past and the Page of Pentacles being associated with new opportunities, there is some indication that the energies should be read from left to right like a simple past-present-future spread. In this case, Judgement might be strongly indicative of the transformation and new life of spring (associated so strongly with Beltaine, especially with the undertones of death and "breaking free"). The Page of Pentacles might be associated closely in time with the Solstice, then - perhaps in a very literal way, as a time when your activities and projects are "bearing fruit" in the form of new opportunities or potential being realized… but in a way that still demands continued steady work and commitment in a very practical, grounded way. In the meantime, there's a suggestion, by the Hanged Man, of acceptance or surrender, perhaps a period of rest and release, turning inward to seek the inner wisdom of spirit… or perhaps simply in preparation for the work to come, in order to gain some new perspective or insight that might be useful for taking full advantage of those future opportunities when they arise.

Hasty Letter to Mentor

Wow, B--! That sounds like an amazing moment! :)

I'm wondering if I'm experiencing a little energy boost as a result of my ties to the grove, because after a month or two of feeling "blocked" spiritually (or, more accurately, feeling so intensely engaged with practical life stuff, I haven't had time to do much more than meditate), the last day or two I've had a renewal of energy and focus. My flamekeeping shift for Brigid was just yesterday, and I actually spent part of that time going back over the DOTR lessons and looking at where I am and what's coming up next. So your message is well timed! ;)

Right now, I'm just about to start in on the lessons for the four elements, starting with Air. I'm in the process of studying, on my own time, the basics of astrology, as well as Erynn Rowan Laurie's take on the ogham. So I'm thinking of tying the four element work in to that exploration (since I have more than a passing familiarity with the four elements already, and this would provide a refresher as well as a more in-depth exploration). I'm beginning my study of astrology with Stephen Arroyo's handbook, but plan to move on to his well-known work "Astrology, Psychology and the Four Elements" where he explores the energies of the four elements and how they express themselves in the planets, houses and aspects in great depth. I'll probably read that over the course of the next few months, even if it doesn't precisely match up with the lessons as they're outlined.

My other concern right now is finding a grove to practice with in-person here in Pittsburgh. On Imbolc, I attended a rite hosted by the local ADF grove, which was a very good experience for me. Since then, I've been meaning to make it to some of their discussion groups and smaller blessing rites that they hold throughout the month, but my schedule has been full-to-bursting (and last Sunday's Beltaine ritual was rained out - so Jeff and I did a simple garden blessing ritual with the kids in the backyard instead.) Also, part of me feels like if I'm going to be regularly involved in their work, perhaps it makes sense for me to "officially" join ADF. But I'm hesitant to do that in part because I definitely part ways with them on some key theological issues, and in part because I'm not so inclined to go through yet another year-and-a-day introductory course!

Jeff and I continue to talk about forming a grove of our own more in keeping with DOTR's style, and eventually he will decide to commit to joining DOTR as well. He's just not a very big group joiner in general, and not very keen on ritual - a bit too much Zen in him - he likes to just chase whatever interests him at the moment. I definitely feel that some in-person, real-life commitment and ritual work would be beneficial for me at this point, though, so maybe I can work on him. ;)

So that pretty much sums it up. Sorry this response is a bit rushed. Hopefully I'll have time a bit later today to sit down and go over things a bit more carefully. For now, have to run!

--Ali

She That Is: A Meditation on Brigid Star Fire

I gather together the candles, the prayer beads, the scattered objects and tools I've consecrated to Her over the past few years, and I set them before me on the altar. Three candles burning. One flame flickering deep, half-hidden in a thick, white pillar mostly melted down, its edges sculpted in soft dips and peaks like slowly collapsing snow or the heights of a mountain. One pillar still like new, solid sculpted wax, churning the cool rusted copper of LED electricity, nestled in its hurricane vase of cracked orange and red glass. One small candle floating, a dull gold ring around a bright, steady flame, hovering suspended by clear water studded with glints and glitter in a dark, blue bowl rimmed with black.

What is She? Who is She? Celestial, ephemeral, pristine and pure, delicate, new, grace itself, fresh and bright. Earthy, dark and grounded, sweat and dirt and hot breath, the hard flex and tension of muscle, the rough power of fire and stone, the burning fluidity of molten ore. Primal, deep and ageless, utter stillness and distance, utter light in the darkness, spun out, flung out, fragmented, holographic, the whispering wholeness buried within each disparate glint of limit and form.

And the hammer, the anvil, the spark — the sweat and hot breath of the universe, the work and labor of the cosmos brought to bear on itself, the earthy Ground of Being lifted, deepened, expanded to fill a sky overwhelmed with the clamor of stars, each forged, each made new, pristine, a shining fragment of light. And the stars, the infinite suns, perfect spheres in a great dance of beauty, humming with song, swung in great arcs as though in one another's arms, spinning into newly created moments, new beginnings, like a child spinning around her center in a fresh spring meadow, arms flung out, effortless in grace and welcome.

And the hiss of the steam, the pulsing of groundwater, the twining thrust of energy rising in the mound, a serpent of stars in the dark earth. The tongue of flame licking dark and bright above the wellspring, the purity and intensity of all-consuming heat, soften, tempered by the fresh, cold waters.

She is too much. I cannot hold onto Her, I cannot see Her — I can only follow the winding, spiraling connections, dynamic and always changing, fluid, fleet. Sometimes She is overwhelming, even austere, so hot and great that Her fire burns cold. Sometimes She is all innocence and promise, coaxing and gentle and warm, caressing and playful. Sometimes She is so intimate I cannot tell Her from my own passion, the drive that spurs me, the energy that courses through my blood and lashes out in righteous anger or sharp, clever words like a long blade. Sometimes, She is absence, void, the emptiness of death or grief, the keening of wind whistling through the hollow, the barely glimpsed sliver of light reflecting off the rainfall in the dusk, wane, distant, not enough.

Who is She? I don't know. I cannot describe Her outside of poetry, and poetry cannot do Her justice. She is creativity at the heart of existence, tempered and expressed in culture and art, the resistance and pressure of material forms that force us into relationship and engagement, and the release from those heavy forms afforded by inspiration and the spark of light and insight that lifts us up beyond ourselves, seems to defy even gravity itself. She is my Goddess, my Sun, my Center, my Light, my Starscape, my Tongue, my Draught, my Forge...

Diary

Sun: taurus (earth/fixed), 6:28 am - 8:09pm
Moon: last quarter, aquarius (air/fixed)
Earth: bright and sunny for most of the day, warm (in the high 70s) for the first time this spring, with thunderstorms moving in as dusk fell with a soft rain

"Sometimes you have to take a break from being the kind of a boss who's always trying to teach people things. Sometimes, you just have to be the Boss of Dancing."

- Michael Scott

Before I begin, I just want to make one quick note: I'm using Dragon dictation to write this diary entry. This is a software program I've begun using for work, and I figured I'd use it to write this diary entry to kill two birds with one stone. But using dictation software is very different from typing, so I'm not sure how it will go. sentences may seem awkward at first, especially since I can't correct or change my mind halfway through. Once I begin a sentence, I have to commit to finishing it. So if my sentences seem awkward, please forgive me, and hopefully I'll improve as I use the software more.

This morning I spent some time in meditation out in the backyard, as it was such a beautiful day, bright and sunny right from the start, and it's been a long time since I've spent any time in meditation on a regular basis. I realized that I reached a point where I was hesitant to meditate because I was afraid I would be out of practice. But remembering that there are external forms to ritual that I can rely on and that can help me ease back in to the more in-depth practice that I'm seeking, I decided to go ahead and jump back into regular practice. It held that the weather was so gorgeous, because it gave me an excuse to go outside and just sit and allow myself to relax and return to my breathing. my other intention was to try to reconnect with the earth and the land in this immediate area, especially because of the hydrocracking spill that occurred last week up in northern Pennsylvania. I've been wanting to write an article about it for the new blog, No Unsacred Place, but haven't known how to approach the topic in any coherent way. I strive for certain amount of poetic oppression, and that deep connection to the earth that can help me find the right words to express the importance of this issue. I am not exactly a news person or a fat person, I don't have very much confidence in listing all the evidence. I feel like my most moving pieces , my best kind of writing, is when I am able to draw from my personal experience—and yet, this is not something that I and experiencing personally. The world around me seems beautiful and healthy, and my only knowledge about this disaster comes from things I've read in the news or seen online. So I wanted to try to connect to the earth and reach out to the land to listen to what the land has say about the experience of this pollution and this tragedy. But I'm out of practice, and even if I weren't, I don't know if I would be able to listen like that to the land. I have had only fleeting experiences of the kind of connection that I've heard of in books, the tales of shamans from indigenous cultures and healers and even other pagans. Salons struggling to balance this lack of knowledge and lack of personal experience with my fear that I can't connect to the land in the way that I need to, that I won't be able to talk meaningfully about some of these very serious problems that deserve to be addressed.

This is tangentially related to some feelings I was having later this evening, that I think might be related to my Saturn return, and Jeff agrees with me with on that—he says that he read something this morning about how today would be a day of either great confidence or great self-doubt for most people all over the world. The stellium that was going on in Aries is finally coming to an end as most of the planets leave one by one, and Mercury has finally gone direct again. that might be one reason why I haven't been updating in this diary very much recently, there's been so much energy and intensity, and I focused it mostly on work and getting things done. In that way, I've been pretty successful. I've managed to launch my new website can, which looks fantastic, and get No Unsacred Place off the ground running, with lots of good posts from a number of different people. I'm doing well with my transcription work, and I have a plan for the next several months about various writing projects I want to undertake. But today, I found myself really bothered by a conversation on Facebook. I made the mistake of sharing a controversial article about the connection between autism and vaccinations that set—well, I was going to say a number of people, but that's just not true, it's really only one person whose opinion I value a great deal—in any case, I obviously have a problem being made of cool love in public. (So that sentence actually read, “being made a fool of”—but the mistaken transcription made me smile, so I'm going to leave it.)

The thing is, I don't know about the science behind vaccinations. I don't have time to know everything. But I do have personal experience of modern medicine, and how people are treated sometimes very poorly if they are viewed as lower class, or incompetent, or sometimes just female. Because I didn't have insurance the last time I went to the doctor, I was treated as though I were a know-nothing who couldn't be trusted to tie my own shoes, let alone keep myself healthy. A doctor told me in all seriousness that if my injured arm continued to hurt, that I should just take Vicodin to make the pain go away. The time before, when I was in a great deal of pain because of a urinary tract infection, the antibiotics they prescribed made me vomit so often I almost died of dehydration, and would have if just haven't been there to force me to drink Gatorade when I could barely sit up in bed. But when I returned to the doctor later, he told me that it must have been in my head because you can't be allergic to antibiotics. He proceeded to blame my anemia on being a vegetarian, even though I was diagnosed with and had suffered symptoms for years before becoming a vegetarian, and was able to mitigate my anemia once I gave up meat. To be treated with such disrespect is not an uncommon experience for a lot of people when they go to doctors and hospitals today, especially if they have a misunderstood disease or don't have the insurance to cover the treatment they might need. So I'm not surprised that parents are worried about what will happen to their children as a result of all of the vaccinations and drugs that are so blithely prescribed by doctors who sometimes don't really seem to care what your opinion is or whether or not you know what's going on or what's going into your body.

But none of that really matters. Parents who believed that there might be a connection between infant and childhood vaccinations and the increase in autism and other problematic diseases have been classified as nut cases, and anyone who states an argument even remotely agreeing with their perspective is dismissed. It bothers me that I don't know the science to back up the personal experience that I have had and I know others have had. It bothers me that debates cannot be nuanced or subtle, and that even people who I respect are very easier to demonize and to listen to spook stories and deride those who don't agree with them or don't know as much of them, rather than trying to be compassionate or educate them. And it really bothers me when a person uses the excuse of “being a parent of young children.” As if people who disagree with them couldn't possibly have families of their own or couldn't possibly be responsible parents themselves.

I think what bothers me most is the feeling that I can never know enough to be respected. I don't know if it's sexism or ageism or something else, or just in my head. But it often feels as though no matter how hard I study, no matter how eloquently I write, no matter how my ideas are born out by events and experiences, that I am rarely taken seriously, or if I am, it's treated as a one time thing, almost a miracle, unexpected at the very least. I feel resentful and bitter towards leaders in the pagan community to act as gatekeepers and whose recommendations are seen as the final word about what to value and who to listen to. I work my ass off. But often times, I feel as though I have no idea what will be viewed as valuable an intelligent by others, and what will be seen as arrogant, or confusing, or obscure, or just plain dull. I want to do work that is valuable and important, and work that stems from my personal experience and my view of the world, and yet sometimes it seems that it is precisely that kind of work, work that relies on and is rooted in personal experience instead of objective facts or the consensus of the majority, that is derided or dismissed.

Who is my authority? This is the question that Saturn prompts me to ask this coming year. Maybe the lesson is that I shouldn't try to talk about things that I haven't personally experienced. Yet that just doesn't seem right, not when so many things around me deserve to be talked about and need to be brought to people's attention. What about this spill up in northern Pennsylvania, that hardly anyone is paying attention to? I don't know. Maybe this is my fear of being irrelevant, and I should overcome it and trust that the experiences that I have are truly valuable. Maybe this is just the old fear that I live a protected and cushy life, and I have nothing to say of value unless I'm talking about tragedies that are going on elsewhere, over there, to those other people. Or maybe this is just all nonsense. I'm tired of having these debates. I'm tired of always having to justify myself and prove myself. I don't even know if I'm trying to prove myself to other people, or to myself, or some combination of the two. And I can't help but think that a lot of people must be feeling this right now. I know that I'm an intelligent person, and I have a good education that has continued to expand on my own time and with my own resources. What about those people who don't have those opportunities? Again, I can't help but feel like we need to have more compassion for people who might hold theories that seem crazy or kooky or wrong. But when I tried to say this, especially in the context where I shared something that turned out to be incorrect, it's so easy to accuse me of just trying to change the conversation and avoid acknowledging that I was wrong. (And of course, I don't even know that I am wrong, all I have is the word of other people who disagree with me for their own reasons.)

The incense wafts in the air. The candle burns steady. These things I experienced right now, as they are. I am not crazy for thinking that these things are meaningful, that they change the world and they change me through my willingness to experience them. How do I translate this into work that is meaningful for other people? Is this kind of frustration a good thing, something that I should embrace and acknowledge as a necessary reminder, a stick that will urge me on? Or is it something that I should leave behind? I used to always face into my fears, chasing them down in the belief that they would leave me to a deeper truth. Is this that kind of fear, or the kind that should be shrugged off and forgotten as silly? Maybe I should embrace the idea that I will be viewed as a ditz or a fool or, gods forbid, just a woman. May be there is a kind of freedom in that. I don't know. I could go around in circles all night with this question. I don't even know why it bothers me so much, but it's been on my mind all night.

I think, regardless of anything else, that I do need to return to my practice of centering and grounding, and renew my commitment to regular prayer and meditation. Even if it doesn't bring me any clarity on these types of issues, at least perhaps it'll get my mind to shut up for a little while and stop worrying over things that might not be all that important in the grand scheme. In any case, it's getting rather late, and I think I should end this.

I apologize for any strange wordings or typos. I've tried to catch most of them, but I'm still getting used to using this dictation software. Just being able to talk it out in a clear, articulate voice has actually helped me feel better about some of these issues. So maybe this will become a regular practice of mine. Or maybe not.

Diary Tarot Card

As I dealt out the cards, my mind wandering, a thought occurred to me: that when we worry too much about being perfect in our writing and our words, we assume a certain passivity in our readers and the community who receives the products of our creativity. Maybe there is a place, instead, for trust—trust that, even if our words are not perfect or our work salvific, that they will be received in such a way that they will have the right effect anyway. I think of Merton and detractors who talk about his ideas as dangerous and self-absorbed, and yet so many people have been drawn to contemplation and mysticism through his writing. Even if he was a self-absorbed sex-maniac (as some folks tell it), his writings still have a blessing effect on many. Maybe that's the best we can hope for.


© Stephanie Pui-Mun Law, The Shadowscape Tarot

The Knight of Cups follows his dreams, the idealist and romantic who listens deeply to the stirrings of connection and emotion at the heart of things and follows the promptings of his intuition. He is almost reckless in his pursuit of those ideals, sure that his faithfulness and honest devotion will bear him to those dreams he seeks.

The King of Swords sits poised, a portrait in stilled movement, a thinker gazing abstractly over his realm. He is balance and reason, the weighing of night and day, art and science brought to bear on one another. Clarity of vision and depth of insight, thought and memory, are his guides. He does not go out seeking on a quest, but sends his thoughts flying to the farthest realms while he remains, a pillar of strength and intelligence.

Meanwhile, in the Six of Cups is a reminder of childhood innocence and open-mindedness, an embrace of all the possibilities the world holds. It is a card of simple joys and pleasures, and an imaginative engagement with the world that prompts a response in kind. The little girl sets her table and pours her tea, never minding that grown-ups might not believe or might claim she's only imagining—and sure enough, the faeries slip in to share her simple, playful ritual with her, welcomed guests for once not shuffled off with skepticism and disbelief.

The cards in this spread present a clear movement from right to left, as each figure seems to move into the next. The Knight of Cups, with his idealism and romanticism, might represent the initial urge at the beginning of the journey, the spark that sets the whole thing rolling. Perhaps in this case, it represents the higher pull of justice and peace that I feel, that drives me towards… the King of Swords, that desire to see clearly across the whole realm, to become, through knowledge and clarity of insight, a ruler even over life and death, day and night. In the King of Swords card, the movement of the Knight is stilled and restrained, reigned in to be refined and directed wisely, without undue haste or recklessness. In this spread, it's almost as though the stillness in the King of Swords makes space for the innocence and play in the Six of Cups—while at the same time, the Sword card is the fulcrum on which everything turns, so that if the call of idealism is the urge that begins the journey, the exercise of careful thought and clarity of insight is the way the journey is made, even in the midst of seeming stillness. And what both of these lead towards is that expression of innocence and imagination—that is what, in the end, has the power to change the world, evoking engagement and relationship. Piercing intelligence is stilled and respectfully restrained in the presence of creativity. Again, there is that message of the stilled sword—the sword held up to cast light, rather than to strike a killing blow. Again and again, this symbolism comes up. Something to ponder for the future.

Astrology of Me: Change and Career

By way of explaining my absence here for the past month or so, I'll just cite this excerpt from the astrology site that Jeff routinely checks. He checked it this morning when we were both up before dawn — he, out of self-discipline, and I, because I woke up around 5 AM thinking about coding and website design and couldn't fall back asleep.

Uranus Triune the Midheaven seems to pretty much nail it on the head.

This influence represents a period in your life when you can make creative changes in both your professional and your personal life. In your career, sudden opportunities may come about that enable you to move in radically new and different directions. Often this influence signifies a change in career to another field such as scientific or technical professions, including electronics, computers and engineering. This influence can also signify an interest in the occult, especially astrology.

But this period has a larger significance. At this time you are able to change your life direction and do something that more truly expresses your individuality. The problem for most people is that this new field may be quite different from what you were taught was a "proper" profession. Most people's focus in this regard is too narrow. It is very important now to let yourself explore any field of endeavor that attracts you, regardless of how well it fits your preconceptions of a career. Please note that your new direction may not be a career in the usual sense but a field to which you devote your life, although it is unrelated to making a living. One's avocation may well be one's true calling.

The only restriction is that your new direction should be ethical and legal, simply because this influence can create serious problems with the law if you are not careful about legality.

This is also a time in your life when you will be innovative in whatever you do. Your thinking is fresh and original, and you do not try to solve new problems with old solutions, either in your profession or in your personal life. Thus you will be attracted to new techniques and new ideas, especially for your own personal development.

This influence began in May 2010 (right around the time I first injured my wrist, which eventually led me to quitting my old job at the end of June 2010) and will last until January 2012. It's the kind of influence with peaks and troughs, and one of those peaks occurred just recently, building strength through February and cresting the third week of March — right during the week that Jeff and I were at a week-long business conference where I put in more than fifty hours of work. The next peak will come in October, during yet another week-long business conference.

So let's see. We've got:
√ a new career direction doing relatively nonconventional work from home
√ tax issues cropping up due to filing as a "self-employed" independent contractor
√ complications in exploring legal options for a Pagan wedding (not career related, but still)
√ new, intense interest in website design and the use of new media in unique ways
√ growing interest in astrology

So there you have it. I don't know why I even bother keeping a diary, if the stars are going to be so precise.

Diary

I just realized that I haven't updated here in forever, and even now it's past my bedtime. The past several weeks have been very much akin to those contests you sometimes see on TV, where burly lumberjacks have to dance across rolling logs as they turn and bob in the rough waters of a wide river. I've been jumping from project to project with an intensity that, normally at this time of year, I devote to revamping my yoga routine and plunging into spring cleaning. (Jeff has been worrying that I'm ungrounded... but how can you ground on a rolling log? You just have to dance.)

I'm wondering if the stellium in Aries has anything to do with it. Last night I had a dream that Jeff and I were in a classroom full of people where a professor was trying to give a lecture, when his podium went up in flames. I tried to rally folks to get out to safety, but everyone just sat there like startled sheep, and eventually I made a bolt for the door and managed to find a fire alarm in the hallway that set the whole place ringing with sirens and warning bells.

So it seems a lot of my life right now is about movement and energy, and learning to move when you have to, to keep up and stay safe. I stay wound all day, intensely focused on my work, and at night, I sleep like a log. It's like my own little private version of spring, with sap rising and everything waking.

Except that I remember past springs, when I had time for things like poetry and daydreaming. Not that I don't enjoy being productive and rising to the challenge.... but I think right about now I could go for a few poems about daffodils. Not to mention a few actual daffodils. It's been a long winter.

Diary

Days of Note: Seakeeping with Manannan

Sun: pisces (water/mutable), 7:32am - 7:27pm
Moon: *waxing gibbous, leo (fire/fixed)
Earth: gray, somewhat chilly and rainy all day, though at least we seem to be safely past the snowy season, if not the morning frosts

I'm raging again tonight. Every once in a while I get into moods where everyone just strikes me as stupid and selfish and, despite my pacifism, I want to kick people in the head.

What set me off this evening was reading Rand Paul's rant about low-flow toilets. How a grown man can throw such a self-entitled tantrum that would make our eight-year-old roll his eyes, and do so as a member of an elected government.... ! Jeff insists he's just blinded by his particular ideology, to which I responded, "Well I'd like to kick him in the head so that he would be blinded by my foot in his face!" Low-flow toilets! Of all the things! Like there aren't people who use a bucket or a hole in the ground... like there aren't people in this country who do it by choice as part of their effort to live an environmentally respectful lifestyle, recycling their own byproducts through their compost toilets and giving themselves back to the earth, ensuring there will be enough clean water for the rest of us. And meanwhile, studies are rolling in that those most disproportionately affected by the climate change crisis are those who tend to contribute the least to the world's pollution — those who live impoverished and close to the land — while studies show that we Americans with our air-conditioned SUVs rumbling around the suburbs are growing increasingly less worried about climate change in recent years. It drives me nuts!

And then my cousin, who can sometimes be a bit, well, judgmental, makes a passing remark on Facebook about how as a journalist she used to hate interviewing writers because they always had such big egos. Which, even if it's not an intentional swipe at me personally, still feels like one. Like there's this whole nobility that comes with struggle and failure, like those of us who are passionate about our work shouldn't dare take pride in our accomplishments — or like working to cultivate a thriving community of "niche" readers in love with your subject matter means you're still just a "little fish in a huge sea" and shouldn't imagine that what you do is actually -laugh- important!

Then the irony hits me.

I can't fully articulate it, but there must be a lesson here, about judgement and kindness and rage and passion. And community. What strikes me over and over is how hard it is to save the world each on our own. Every effort Jeff and I make, every step we take towards a healthier lifestyle is one that we take, firstly, as a family, and secondly, as members of our local community. It would be impossible to do this if we didn't live in an urban neighborhood with stores within biking and walking distance, if we didn't have the local co-op with organic, local produce, if we didn't have restaurants nearby specializing in vegetarian and organic cuisine, if we didn't have neighbors and community volunteer programs involved with keeping the city parks clean and available, or protecting the local landscape from developers and corporations. And still, I feel like I'm not doing enough. And when I think of folks in the suburbs, I get angry. I get judgmental.

What I should probably be doing is seeking kindness, and passion. Passion will connect and grow, where rage only isolates and repulses. Kindness opens people up to the possibility that they are good enough, that a good and healthy life doesn't have to be one of desperation and frustration and struggle. There is nothing wrong with taking pride in what we do to help one another and improve the quality of life for ourselves. Harping on how hard and tiring it is to drag American culture along by its teeth into the realities of the twenty first century isn't going to win anyone over. If change and health is something that we can only find in community (with each other, and with the earth), then first we have to nurture and share those things that help to foster community: joy, laughter, kindness, generosity, and gratitude.

I can feel the rage like a physical entity in my body. When I sit for a moment and breathe, I can feel how close that rage is to love and excitement, how easy it is to change my mind about the physical sensations coursing through this meat-space of mine. In a few breaths, that energy is transformed and directed, no longer a destructive force that wants out through clenched fists and tensed muscles, but now something that I can work with, shape and direct to transform the world.

This is what daily practice is for. This is why meditation and prayer are so absolutely vital. The tools to transform rage and anger and frustration and fear — to change them from the center. To reform and redirect, to refine and renew. I can do this. I can learn to do this.

Diary Tarot Card

© Stephanie Pui-Mun Law, The Shadowscape Tarot

The King of Pentacles stands sure and steady in the center, presenting a choice or offering alternatives. A figure of stability and generosity rooted deeply in the earth, he remains grounded and humble (close to humus) even as his aspirations reach ever higher towards the sun and rain above. The choices he presents, with his wise guidance, are two alternatives, two ways of handling the energies of the earth that well up within, drawn from the roots and gathered in from the limbs.

The Nine of Wands is a choice that brings us constant vigilance and resolve, tensed with uncertainty, straining into the future and what it may hold. The lone sentinel astride his mount, poised on the cliff, already worn with previous battles and perhaps overly eager to see strife and conflict in what's to come.

The Four of Wands, on the other hand, is a choice of freedom and joy, celebration and jubilation, finding harmony and balance among our energies so that, through them, we discover our freedom and lightness of being. Lush flowers bloom below as the sun shines above, and we discover ourselves not alone, but part of a community dancing and bounding with gladness through the beauty-charged landscape.

Both these choices lead in the same direction. The center figure, the King, holds his arms out in an equal length cross from his chest, reaching towards each. But to his left, the Nine of Wands, his open hand is lost in shadow, while to his right, his open palm shines in sunlight, holding the glimmering, golden acorn, seed of great and mighty things to come. Prosperity, generosity and stability come not from the battle-weary and bitter, but from the energies of joy and gladness shared in community, which lead back to the center, back to the feet of the King himself.

Diary - Dream

Sun: pisces (water/mutable), 6:45am - 6:18pm
Moon: waxing crescent, aries (fire/cardinal)
Earth: sunny and cold, hovering around freezing for most of the morning and then warming into the afternoon, but the sun is golden on the snow and spring is coming


I had meant to type this dream up this morning, but didn't have a chance. I'm not sure exactly when or how it started, other than the usual "wandering around some place with old friends." In this case, I believe Ellen and other high school friends were with me. At some point, we were rushing through an airport, having just landed and disembarked the plane, when we came across Joe in a security officer's uniform (or police, I'm not sure which). I recognized him as we approached him, and he recognized me, confusion and amnesia in his eyes. This is not the first time he has appeared in my dreams as a go-between of the dead, as has Freddy since he died. This time in particular, his skin seemed dark, and he had the look about him of Hispanic-African American that Freddy had, though his height, body and build were his own and I knew him as Joe, calling him by that name in the dream itself. I walked up to him, seeing how bewildered and confused he was, not knowing he was dead and not knowing how he had gotten there. I felt overwhelmed with a kind of sweet grief and compassion for him. He looked at me and asked me where he was, what was going on. I explained that we were in an airport, that my friends and I had just gotten off our plane. He asked, "Is that the way I came to be here, too?" And I held my hand up to his face, touching his temple with my fingertips, and said, "No, baby, I'm sorry. You didn't come the way we came." (Considering that I would never call someone "baby," and in fact it's a pet peeve of mine, the naturalness with which I addressed him that way struck me as strange after I woke up.)

Then we were moving on, out of the airport, and we were in the College Landscape again - not the campus where I actually went to college, but a landscape that's a mash-up of several different campuses I've been to, all kind of heightened to an archetypal level. Huge, cinder-block dorm buildings stretched up around one part of campus, and academic buildings in another. Ellen was dragging me along to a play that some of her friends were in, and just as we were entering the posh-looking theater lobby, I realized I was carrying around the heating pad I use when I'm having bad cramps. I also didn't have any purse or bag with me, and I stopped her and asked if we could run back to the dorms so I could drop it off. When she insisted no, we were going to be late and it was my own fault for carrying it around with me, I replied, "Well, I was in pain, and if you had warned me we were going to a play, I would have at least brought my bag along to put it away." In the end, I think we decided to skip the play after all, because soon both of us ended up back in the dorm building section of campus.

I realized that I did not actually have a dorm room, yet, but had to choose one (as it was moving-in day for everyone, with the first arriving able to snatch up the nicest rooms). I lost track of Ellen at some point as we each went off to search for our rooms — I think she went off to a hall or suite where a bunch of her friends were already rooming together. I found a house-like section of a dorm building (much like the honors students' house I was in in college), and decided to try to find a room there. I had been explaining to someone earlier (perhaps Ellen), that I had tried for an MFA once before, but just could not find the right fit for me and so I had decided to leave the program. This time, however, I was enthusiastic that my grad school experience would be much better. As I wandered this section of the dorm building, I found a stairwell curving up in one part of the house, and I followed it up. It seemed there was a room in the very peak of one of the gables, and I thought it might afford some privacy and a nice view... but as I climbed the stairwell, it got smaller and smaller, until I could barely squeeze through it. At the top, there was a tiny trap door just barely big enough for me to wriggle my shoulders and hips through, and then a room hardly bigger than a bathroom, half of which was taken up by a huge porcelain claw-footed tub, and another part by a desk, with only half a mattress on the floor to sleep on. I recognized this as the room I'd stayed in before during that semester of MFA work, and understood suddenly why I hadn't brought a purse with me to the play — there was no room for anything but me to fit through the door, not even a purse, let along a backpack or laptop or pile of books. I remembered hating going back to my restrictive room and never feeling like I could get things in or out easily. Then I understood that this was why grad school had never "fit" before — I had literally been too cramped and isolated up in the attic. There was some impression that this was supposed to be "my" room, but I decided, fuck that, and turned and walked back down the spiral staircase from where I'd come. Reaching the second floor, I found that one of the rooms was still free and unclaimed there — it had huge double doors leading into a spacious suite with a half partition, and huge windows overlooking the campus. The central hallway of the floor, where the steps came up from the floor below, was more like a sitting area, wide open with several groups of furniture (couches and comfy chairs) arranged for lounging and socializing. For a second, I felt a rise of panic when I realized that, if I chose that room right in the middle of everything, there was no way I could avoid people, I would definitely be mingling and socializing much more. But I squared my shoulders and decided that this was necessary, if I was going to give myself the space I needed to stay sane and healthy (and be able to accessorize with large purses for books and heating pads, and gaze out those huge windows to the horizon).

It was about then that I woke up.

My impression of this dream, which was quite vivid and visceral, was that it reflects to some extent the change in attitude I've had towards my writing recently, and deciding to embrace the idea of a "writing career" instead of turning my nose up at teaching and such as a distraction from writing. A couple weeks ago, I had two nights of dreams in a row that involved me wandering around huge, mansion-like houses with many rooms and winding hallways — getting lost in them and discovering strangers and folks in unexpected rooms where someone was holding lessons or leading choir rehearsal, things like that. I've come to think of these "house" dreams as being about my own personality (or perhaps, more specifically, my mind). When I was teaching myself how to draw several years back, I had a bunch of intense dreams in a row about being in in my "house" and pulling aside empty boxes or clutter to discover whole empty rooms I'd never known about, and the excitement of realizing that I had more "space" in which to live and enjoy than I'd known about before. This seemed almost too obvious a metaphor for "discovering new talents" by exercising a skill I had never realized I had. These recent dreams, centering on strangers being in the house and how I react to them, seems like it has to do with my ego sorting out its attitudes towards developing a more "public" face for my work... and the fact that these have all centered around or involved teaching or group gatherings in some way makes me think that it's particularly that aspect of my career that I've been trying to incorporate. It's hard to find a better metaphor for my experience of grad school before, and how my attitude has changed since then, than this idea of living up in a tiny, cramped attic with a door almost too small to fit through — so that I feel both as though I don't have a home and as though it's impossible to bring things "out" to share with others (or make my life easier, like having a purse so I could carry necessary items with me without being exposed and awkward). Moving down to the second floor and accepting that I will be interacting with others, but doing it for the spaciousness and accessibility, is a pretty good metaphor for my change in perspective recently. Instead of feeling overwhelmed, hedged in and vulnerable, I feel up to the challenge, knowing I'll also have a real "home" to come home to at night.

I'm not sure what role Joe played in all this, other than to be there for me as a guided into that deeper dream state. Perhaps I am feeling to some extent a "death" of some kind, too, a dying to the old self and a rebirth, though it is different from his literal dying. The fact that, when he was alive, he held a position of authority in my life, which he held lightly and with humor, and was also acting selflessly as a volunteer when he died, means that he's always been a kind of gentle, but forthright guide for me in these kinds of dreams (often seeming to involve life-and-death, like the dream about my unborn son-that-never-was)... even if we never were all that close when he was alive.

Flamekeeping Meditation and Divination

Days of Note: Flamekeeping (begins at sundown), New Wind Tossed Moon

Sun: pisces (water/mutable), 6:48am - 6:16pm
Moon: new moon, pisces (water/mutable)
Earth: warmer and raining all day, with some winds rustling the trees

Meditation

For a while, I sat quietly in darkness, eyes closed, waiting. For a while, nothing came. I felt my body relax as deeper trance took me and, after wandering in obscurity for a time, I found myself back on the cliffs of my inner landscape, looking east out over the long, silent waters of blue ocean. To my left, along the cliffs edge, the rocks raised to a peak where the huge, ancient Shrine of the Ashless Flame burns, stone bowl carved of the rock of the land, covered with lichen, filled with dew and rain water, over which the ashless flame flickers, a mirror to the sun, a fiery arrow pointing ever upwards.

This was where I first met Brigid in my meditations, here on the edge of the forest that led into my grove, on the highest point, a pinnacle over the sea and woods, reaching towards the sky. I laid offerings and poured libations and sat before the impersonal, eternal flame as it danced in the wind. It was months before I made the connection to Brigid as a goddess — she was, first and always, a primal force, surging upwards from the earth, rising like wellspring and steam and the scent of stone and soil as it rises with the midday sun's heat as the twilight settles in.

All at once, I was hearing her voice again, unprompted, speaking in low, steady, vibrating tones. She spoke of that power, that I have forgotten perhaps too often recently in imagining her as a goddess with body and human shape, a human face. She is, above all, the exaltation, the rising energy and force. She is not a human, but a Person of glory and light and brightness, and also of underground water and sacred sources of healing working in the dark and the mystery.

I felt a resistance to my left, the west, where the edge of the forest seemed to loom dark and thick in my peripheral vision. I turned towards the woods, saw the shadows lurking beneath the tangled branches despite the bright sun overhead. That was the place I must turn to and enter, what had been dwelling on my mind — she seemed to say, and yet, the forest was thick and dark with growth, that green sprawling and spreading and climbing over itself to reach the light that poured out upon them, each leaf finding its place. The darkness was not apart from the light, but an aspect of it, a response to it; the shadows of the forest existed because of it, not in spite of it. It was not Brigid who gifted me the Sword of Light, though she may have had a hand in forging it, nor was it in the light of day that the Sword of Light is used, but in the darkness and the night, in the mysteries and the depths. I know now whose gift the Sword of Light is to give, she told me, and turning I saw again the ocean stretching wide beneath me. Though the sun was intimate and close in its self-giving, impersonal in its distance and brilliance and illumination, the oceans wrap the earth in a surrounding embrace, so very close, dark and deep and intimate and passionate.

What, then, should I do about these flamekeeping shifts? I thought I was meant to know her more personally, but it seemed that she would always be, to some extent, the great fiery arrow, the blaze and glory, the guide and inspiration but also the drive and power — not tame, not ever so intimate or quiet as I had hoped. Should I turn my attention and energy, then, to cultivating that personal relationship with Manannan? Should I stop my flamekeeping shifts and leave the Cill? No, for the perspective and illumination of these moments of seeking her to honor her in her power and impersonal wholeness are also important. Hold these flamekeeping shifts still, but do not expect too much of them. Hold them because you honor that Light, that Flame, not because you expect personal attention or intimacy in return. It is important to remember that not all gods are tame.

Flamekeeping Divination

What does Brigid ask of me for this Flamekeeping shift?


© Stephanie Pui-Mun Law, The Shadowscape Tarot

(a) Page of Cups - She holds the golden chalice up to gaze within at the stray sunbeams and lost treasures that have sunk into the deep, shining even deep beneath these waters with the warmth and radiance from a far off sun. She is the true romantic, the dreamer of dreams, listening to her intuition and her depth of feeling with all the enraptured attention of a child. Here, there is peace and simplicity, and dreams of sunlight kissing the rocking surface of the waves.

(b) Page of Pentacles - Perched high upon the molded stone, above the curling, sleeping figure of the dragon green and verdant, powers of the earth, its lush fecundity — she holds in her hand the glimmer of invitation and initiative, of opportunities for prosperity and, more importantly, for growth. It is her gift, with her practical nature and her concerns for earthly, earthy matters lightened by her joy in the physical bounty around her. Diligence and rootedness, giving rise to the blossom, the fruit and the seed.

(c) King of Cups - Calm, patient, guardian of the deeps, strength of the sea in both its storm and the slow erosion of its caress, breaking open the rocky shores, opening and smoothing, gently claiming them over eons of murmuring and the dance of the tides. He is a protector and guide, and the quiet strength of mystery and compassion well up from within him like the waters of the ocean from the unimaginable depths, yet as close and intimate as the blood, that private sea, we carry within our own bodies and hearts.

The Story: Each card of Cups faces in towards the center, the Page of Pentacles, which gazes ahead, reaching out her gift before her in offering. This is the Central Destination story, and suggest the ways in which these energies, patterns or people may converge and meet, and what that meeting might lead to. It seems, perhaps, that I am represented by the Page of Cups, who holds a sacred chalice close, gazing deeply into the shining golden light within. I seek to know that sunlight and that warmth — and, as with the Page of Cups, perhaps this gazing and dreaming is an aspect of a romantic longing, a listening to the lessons of my intuition and subconscious. Yet, the Page faces towards the King of Cups, who faces her in return. He, too, holds a chalice, though it seems to be made of silver and does not glow with golden light — it is as if he is offering up the very essence of himself, the depths that are the seas and their dark waters. In some ways, then, it seems this story is one of mutual offering and exchange between myself and the God of the Sea, Manannan, a marriage of patience and strength of ancient seas with the liveliness and voyage-dreams of sun-gilded surface of waves. As a result of this meeting or relationship, the Page of Pentacles offers a gift of initiative and opportunity for growth, a place in which both practicality and levity have their place, or perhaps a chance to bring these gifts to manifestation beyond the realm of emotion and intuition and into the physical world as part of the earth's fertility and creativity.

It seems, then, that Brigid's advice is clear: to give myself over to this relationship with Manannan, to embrace that new meeting, and to carry my own light into that relationship, a light I have received from and learned from her. Doing this will lead not only to a relationship of mutual exchange, but fruitful, concrete results of productivity and initiative as well.

DOTR Lesson 3: Awen and Creative Work

My work with Lesson 3: Awen is, I think, almost at an end. I haven't spent as much time as I would have liked writing poetry and doing "actual creative work," but there's no doubt that I've been feeling the influx of inspiration lately and, in particular, changing some of the ways I've been thinking about creativity and creative approaches to soul-work and career in particular.

The "creative project" for Lesson 3 will undoubtedly take much longer than a few weeks, so I'm pretty comfortable moving on to the next lesson while continuing that creative work. I had been anticipating being able to spend more time sitting and writing poetry, but what has demanded my attention — practically forcing its way to the forefront this past month — is work on my website and, by extension, what I'm now coming to call my "author platform." A lot of the work that I've been doing on the wedding planning end of things has led me to reevaluate my expectations about what I'm capable of accomplishing. When it came to planning a wedding, I assumed that (a) we didn't have the money to hire a professional wedding planner, (b) tons of people manage to plan a wedding without a professional planner every year, (c) no one else was going to step up and plan my wedding if I didn't (especially not the way Jeff and I wanted it), and (d) I most obviously had the skills to do it right — in fact, to make it fantastic! Yet all this time, I've been looking at folks who present workshops, give lecturers, teach classes and in general rock the professional writer scene and thought to myself, "I could never do that! I'm just an introverted, shy type of writer-recluse who will just have to settle for being amazing yet amazingly obscure." But why? I can't imagine that preparing a talk or presentation is all that much more intimidating that planning and hosting an event for about a hundred people.... And I managed to break the latter down into a manageable goal that I could work up to a bit at a time. So, why not the other?

That's my inherent elitism coming out. I really do think that part of me assumed that I could handle planning a wedding because lots of people do it all the time without any special prep work or qualifications, and I am way more competent than lots of people even without any experience or credentials. But thinking about becoming an "expert" on something, enough for a book I wrote to be taken seriously, to have the authority of Author.... was not something I could imagine for myself. I didn't know how people became "experts" at the very same time that I was still busy thinking that most of the "experts" out there these days weren't nearly as thoughtful or intelligent as I can be. So I was working this neurotic double standard that kept me expectations far higher than perhaps they should have been while secretly harboring snarky suspicions about people who managed to be professionally successful... which just became an excuse for me to stay in the shadows and always be in the process of "working on my book" without ever finishing one.

Now I'm seeing that creative work is not limited to what I put down on the page. It's also about crafting a professional career, and that's a beautiful thing! There's no job out there that's made perfectly just for me, that I get to just step into and start earning a paycheck — precisely because any pre-made job opening couldn't be suited precisely to me and my needs. Instead, I get to engage in the creative process of making my own job, composed of the various tasks and interactions that I'm most interested in pursuing. But if I can bring a sense of professionalism to a job like waitressing, I'll be damned if I can't live up to the "professional" side of being a professional writer.

And what really brought it home for me was how I have, for some people, come to be considered an "extremist," and how out-of-control and unjust my online presence suddenly seemed to have become. Whining about misunderstandings or the limits of the medium seemed silly when I thought back to the craft of poetry when I was first learning it, and forgoing the whining of "readers just don't get me" and instead buckling down to the hard work of making my writing more accessible and clear. My online persona — my "author platform" online and in person — is not who I am at the deepest level, it is a creative work just as much as a piece of writing is, and if I feel that it's not getting through, then I have at least a large part of the responsibility to listen, to attend, to practice and respond and shape my craft so that it does.

So that's my big creative project for this lesson, and one that will continue to play a major role in the months and years to come. The biggest part of that right now is launching a new website, and leaving behind the Meadowsweet & Myrrh space. Ever since upgrading to the new design, trying to tweak and change and incorporate the kinds of features and widgets I wanted, that space has started to feel more cluttered, too messy and small to meet my needs. The more direct control over the layout and design of this new website is already making a world of difference, though I wouldn't be surprised if it needs to be revamped in the future. It will also be more sustainable in terms of the organization of blog updates, giving up the linear model for one that is more expansive, which will relieve the pressure to constantly update with new amazingly mind-blowingly awesome posts — which in turn will free up my energies to devote elsewhere, to other aspects of my writing. The website will be a good home base for my author identity even if I'm not constantly updating it (because, honestly, I don't think my personality is cut out for daily updates... I can't even sustain it in a private forum like this blog).

So I've been kept up at night several times over the last few weeks, with brain-storms roiling and thundering behind my closed eyes as I imagine all the possibilities and find myself getting more and more excited by it. Understanding that I need to narrow down my goals and set some reasonable, reachable ones (and, as one writer I read recently put it, being able to distinguish between "prolific" and "productive" in a way that frees me a bit from the pressures of guilt and perfectionism)... it's all very awesome. I look at how in two years time I was able to quadruple my readers for Meadowsweet just with a fumbling, haphazard approach in the midst of big life changes, and I imagine just what I could accomplish with an organized approach with clearer goals and a deeper insight into who I want to be as an author. Was it less than a year ago that I was thrilled to even be mentioned on The Wild Hunt? And now I've guest posted there, I have regular interactions with Jason (and frankly, because I'm elitist, I find that he's not all the hot shit I thought he was originally and there are actually things about his approach that I disagree with him about), and in general I feel perfectly comfortable considering myself part of that "in crowd." And all the while, my expectations for what I can accomplish always outstrip my current success (the old phenomenon I mentioned to Carl last time we saw him: I might have huge admiration for a publication or publisher.... until they accept and print my work, and then I figure they must not have been all that good or picky after all. Is this elitism or low self-esteem?).

I figure, if my expectations are always based on the next biggest success marker, then that might actually be a good thing — something that challenges me to keep pushing and stretching and growing — as long as I don't use it as an excuse not to try at all or to give up too soon. I recently found out that one of my favorite words — attending, which I love for its triple connotation of presence, focus and service — comes from a Latin root meaning "to stretch towards." This is what I want. I don't want to be hedged in by trolls and nay-sayers, I want to stretch towards that dream-self I can imagine myself as being, and find ways to make her my reality. She doesn't let trolls define her or pull her off track: she has a gift, and she shares it, and she seeks out those who will be receptive and makes a point of reaching out to them. And those who aren't receptive? Love will find its own way out: water through ice, root through rock.

Diary

Days of Note: New Wind Tossed Moon

Sun: pisces (water/mutable), 6:51am - 6:13pm
Moon: new moon, pisces (water/mutable)
Earth: cold and bright, down into the teens this morning, but climbing into the 30s later in the day

Yesterday was a "Wedding Wednesday" day of planning and preparing for our next "Beer & Budget" meeting with my parents next week. Had a moment of panic in looking at the amount of work still to be done, not so much because I'm afraid I won't be able to do it all, but because there's so much to do I'm afraid I'll miss something, and the sheer amount is hard to organize into an attack plan for the next six months. After talking it over some with Jeff and making some lists over dinner (a belated Valentine's Day dinner out at the Melting Pot), I felt a little more able to approach the task of drawing up a detailed plan for the next three months and a general plan for the final three after that. Like last time, this Beer & Budget meeting is going to be at least half dedicated to going over the details of what we've already gotten done, which is a lot. I'm a little worried that we haven't heard back from the officiant about our desire to meet with him in person when we're actually down in the area in three weeks (after our business trip) — I was hoping to hear back from him this week so we could let my parents know about the intended meeting and also so we could arrange travel plans with Arthur about a return trip, if he's planning on driving down with us.

I'm also a little freaked about the Do It Yourself projects I have lined up, especially the one involving the customized drinking glasses. I have still not found a reliable and classy-looking way to get the glass paint to work, after experimenting on smaller pieces like votive candle holders. Our next experiment is going to be using the sand-blasting to get an "etched glass" look, see if we can get that to work with a handmade stencil using our design. And of course, there's the lawyer consultation, and anxiety in general about the florist, and the cake that my mom is supposedly handling (though she tends to leave this stuff to the last minute), and the music (I'm still not sure Raymond is even planning on coming, so relying on him to play for the ceremony is probably a no-go), and the dress (which is not as big an issue, honestly, I have a dress picked out and some intended alterations to make, and if it falls through I have a back-up choice that's under a hundred bucks that I could order and have ready in only a few weeks). In general, it's all the little stuff that I'm worried about losing track of, especially since it seems some of our vendors have a habit of saying, "Oh, we'll email that to you!" and then needing three or four reminders before they actually do it. Long distance planning.....

On the other hand, I have been thinking more and more recently how my approach to wedding planning (using "GULP") might also work for approaching my book manuscript — since I've now told Graeme I want to have that finished by June, originally thinking I could get it out of the way so that the last few months leading up to the wedding I wouldn't have to worry about it, but getting that finished and the website launched might be a bit over-ambitious. With the Christmas gift card from Steve and Phyllis, I got a couple books on organizing research and manuscripts for nonfiction books, and "growing your author platform," thinking that, like the Big Wedding Book I got, I can read them knowing I probably won't care about even half of what they say, but knowing how other people do it can give me something to go off of and tweak to my own needs. We'll see — the books arrived a few days ago, but I haven't been able to bring myself to read them yet.

Otherwise, today was mostly work after waking up quite early in the morning. I'm dreading "daylight savings time" when it'll go back to being dark until 7:30 each morning. Had a minor freak-out with Jeff over the issue of late checks — he got in touch with the woman in accounting who takes care of that, asking if there was anything I could do to try to keep the checks more regular instead of going a month at a time without an income, and her response was to point out that my contract says turn-around time on the invoices just has to be under two weeks. It bothered me more than it should have, but this has been twice now in only three months that there has there been a lengthy delay, and the first delay was three weeks long, so clearly my ability to enforce the contract is pretty much nil (and I pointed out the injustice of this to Jeff, at length). But what bothers me is that all I was asking was for more information — even just a response back saying the invoice had been received and was in-process — and her response felt like she was chiding me for being an impatient nag. It seems to me that replying with a two-minute email giving an acknowledgement that the invoice has been received and an estimate about when the check might be processed hardly pushes the boundaries of simple courtesy. It bothers me when I am trying to behave like a reasonable person, asking how we can both work to make things easier on both ends, and all I get back is a snippy response citing "contracts" that one party can ignore at will in any case. I do have the option of sending an invoice whenever I want, and could easily make things much harder by sending invoices every week, or even every few days, instead of twice a month as I have been. That would more than double her workload, which is why I've been content to just do biweekly, but if she's not going to meet me halfway on trying to get the check turn-around time lower than ten to twelve days (and erratic, at that), then I'm not sure what other options I really have. So much for me trying to be courteous by submitting regularly timed, reasonably spaced invoices to make everyone's lives easier.

When I'm a face author rolling in dough, these things will seem like such silly worries.

In terms of spiritual practice — other than the diet, which is demanding a lot of discipline and mindfulness from me most days, I find myself wanting to spend time in meditation or, especially, out in the woods, but without the time available between all the projects I'm trying to juggle. I'm eager to explore this relationship with Manannan, which seems to have receded a bit, though when I think about it, I get that thrill of excitement almost as though I'm musing on a new crush. I've been working to bring more mindfulness and presence to my daily activities, but when I'm stuck in front of a computer screen for hours at a time, it's difficult to do — as if there's nothing physical to be present to. The weather takes a dive in temperature whenever it's sunny enough out to be inviting, and only warms up when it's gray and drizzling. The other day (two days ago, or three, I think), we woke up to a gray, misty, rainy mornings in the low fifties. I was downstairs eating breakfast when Jeff decided to run out to the grocery store before settling down to work for the day — he came back in and asked if he could open the window in the dining room to share the morning with me, and his eyes were shining. The smell of spring came pouring through the open window, and the grass in the backyard suddenly seemed to be living again the way it hadn't been all winter, though it was still sparse and patchy. It was as if I could smell the spongey give of the muddy ground, and I actually started to cry a little with relief. Jeff nodded and said that had been his reaction, too, when he first stepped out. I'd wanted to go for a walk that day, but waited thinking it might get a bit warmer later in the day. Instead, the temperature dropped again until it was just too cold to go out into the woods. We did manage to go jogging together the day before yesterday, and that helped a bit with the cabin fever. But today, my body is not feeling comfortable at all, and after breakfast I actually had an intense wave of nausea hit me which resulted in me losing half of what I'd eaten back up into the toilet. I suspect that was just drainage from overnight fighting with the orange juice... but it does worry me a bit. I feel so desperate for spring, I can hardly stand it. Sitting in the study visualizing warmth and water and fire just does not have the same effect. I miss the earth and the woods deeply, and if the cold didn't make my skin so painful that it bleeds, I'd be outside much more. (All the more reason to move to Florida, at least for a little while. That, and the fact that the stars are aligned against me ever making any career progress here in Pittsburgh.)

Tomorrow, I only have a few hours of work left for the week in the morning, and I plan to spend the rest of the day working on revision for the book manuscript and possibly coming up with a GULP game-plan to get the revision done by June. I also want to email everyone who's agreed to sign on to the Green Pagan blog project, and write up a request for a few more writers for Jason to send out on the lists. Getting that off the ground would be fantastic (I'm reading Abram's Becoming Animal now and already it's amazing — though at times even a bit too heady with the poetic language for my taste).

Diary Tarot Card

© Stephanie Pui-Mun Law, The Shadowscape Tarot

The Empress (III) - Queen of the natural world in all its fecundity and lushness, she is a symbol of mother earth and her cycles of ceaseless creativity and regeneration. A card saturated with life and color, the joy of the senses and the sensuous, she represents the pleasure we take in our creative powers and a full-body engagement with this new blossoming, the first buds opening. She is the first unfurling and manifestation and the creative urge into the world, and as such she is wild and full of passion and self-giving, though still somewhat unstructured for the time being.

Six of Swords - A necessary journey through difficulty and strife, leaving these trials and tribulations behind as we move on to a brighter future. He nestles into the warm down of the swan's back as she carries him across a dark-clouded sky, high above the stormcrows where they perch hunched and black on their sharp swords. The journey is one of respite and renewal, providing comfort and perspective - but there may also be a risk of carrying those burdens with us, the unhealthy thought-patterns, expectations and attitudes that weighed us down and drained us of our energy in the past. This journey is a time of rest and recuperation, letting go of the past and looking forward to a welcoming future ahead.

Ace of Swords - A new beginning, the gift of clarity and insight that helps us put what was once chaotic into order and gain the perspective and knowledge we need to see the truth of things, and work towards that truth with justice and reason. Perhaps the start of a new intellectual endeavor or a break-through that will lead to new ideas and insights.

Story - A story that moves from the past into the future: the Empress faces to the right, towards the Six of Swords, her left hand upraised in blessings as the butterflies dance and swirl in brilliant patterns of color before her. She is the creative urge, so closely connected with my sensuous relationship with the earth and the woods, that I have felt in the past: a joy that pulses through me and manifests in spinning words in poetry and story, but has often lacked the structure (and I, the discipline) to sustain any long projects. The Six of Swords continues the journey on the back of a graceful white swan, facing to the right again, moving through a period in the present characterized by difficulty and struggle as I work to leave behind old, unhelpful patterns of thought and allow the forced rest and withdrawal of winter to give me an opportunity to gain perspective and reevaluate. In the final card, the Ace of Swords, the journey comes to an end, the upright sword surrounded by both swans and butterflies in joyful celebration — the integration of the creative self and its denizens, the butterflies, with the fierce commitment and graceful strength of the swans necessary to make the long journey, and at their center, the Sword of Light, both poetry and intellect, creativity and the insight and clarity to order that creativity in a way that will give birth to a new beginning, new projects yet to come.

Divination: The Relationship between Manannan and Brigid

I just finished Robert M. Place's The Tarot: History, Symbolism and Divination (one of the books I got Jeff for Solstice this year), and so I thought it might be worthwhile to experiment with his three-card story technique. One of the spreads he recommends is a nine-card "relationship spread," so I used that spread to explore the potential relationship between Manannan and Brigid Star Fire. My clarity in the question ("What is the relationship between Manannan and Brigid?") may be somewhat lacking, since I didn't exactly ask what their relationship was in regards to me, and I'm not sure my interpretation of the cards will be all that accurate since I've only experimented in a kind of intuitive way with three-card story readings before (jumping to a full nine-card spread may have been ambitious, now that I'm looking at the cards all laid out in front of me). But here goes:

(g) (h) (i)
(a) (b) (c) . . . (d) (e) (f)

Manannan

© Stephanie Pui-Mun Law, The Shadowscape Tarot

(a) The Star (XII) - A card above all of hope, renewal and inspiration, the guidance of starlight emerging from darkness and difficulty. There is respite, rebirth and peace in this card, the optimism that resides in stillness and quiet, in which the first stirrings of joy begin. The image of the card is dominated by the soft blues and purples of water in ripples and swirls around the figure of the Star stepping delicately over the surface of the water. Around her swim golden carp, and above her shines a seven-pointed star in silvery-white reflected in the rippling curls of her hair. All is still and quiet, shimmering. The figure of the Star walks forward, but looks to her right (my left) with a hand upraised in blessing.

(b) Ace of Wands - A card of energetic beginnings and passion taking root, the wand of fire planted firmly in the ground alights with inspiration and creativity. This card seems to reflect the classic meaning of new beginnings and fresh starts in the realm of activity, yet the image depicts an autumn landscape at sunset, golden-colored fallen leaves swirling and rustling around the feet of the foxes, while small red mushrooms push their way up from the soil nearby. This spark or seed of creativity illuminates and draws out the creatures and spirits of the woods that otherwise may not be seen — just as in autumn, with the baring of the trees can reveal new aspects of the landscape usually hidden by the thick green of foliage. Of the three foxes, one faces right, one left, and the third forward — this last has a sun-spiral tattoo on his flank, spiraling outward. The seed of fiery energy and passion can take root even in a waning season, and germinate and grow throughout the spiraling year.

(c) Page of Pentacles - The Page perches upon a mounded rock around which an ancient dragon, green and verdant, curls asleep and dreaming of prosperity, fecundity and opportunity. She holds forward glowing in her left outstretched hand a small golden orb, the spark of opportunity and initiative, the key and invitation to plunge in and enjoy the sensuality and physicality of the world. She faces forward on her perch, as does her owl companion, though the sleeping dragon faces off to the left (my right), towards the center of the spread.

Story: The general flow of energy in these three cards seems to be from the central card (the Ace of Wands) outward in two directions, towards The Star and the Page of Pentacles on either side. One fox each faces left, right and straight on — my interpretation of this is what Place calls the "central teacher" pattern, in which a central figure is pointing out or commenting on two options or alternatives. The spark of creativity and passion symbolized in the Ace of Wands takes on two different forms. In The Star, that spark becomes a silvery seven-rayed point of light, far distant yet able to give guidance and hope in the midst of darkness. The figure of the Star reaches towards the utmost left of the spread, in fact almost directly pointing towards the placement of Manannan's candle and shell on my altar. In the other card, the Page of Pentacles, the spark of energy in the Ace of Wands becomes an invitation or offered gift to take the plunge into a sensual, pleasurable engagement with the physical world and encouragement to seize the opportunities presented. Though this card, too, is mostly a forward-facing one, there is some movement of energy to the right, towards the center of the spread. The Ace of Wands, as a central teacher, seems to be suggesting that these two approaches to an initial spark of inspiration need to be balanced and brought together — the intertwining bodies of the foxes, the spiral tattoo that draws both together, and the spiraling double-twist of the staff on the wand itself seem to suggest bringing these two approaches together to inform one another.

Brigid Star Fire

(d) The Hanged Man (XII) - A card of willing surrender and self-sacrifice, especially a time of reversals, transformed expectations and a new perspective on the world that can bring further insight and breakthroughs. The figure of the Hanged Man is one of release, but also of tenacity and strength, the inner courage and commitment to see through a period of difficulty and sacrifice, a suspension of the ego on the World Tree. Upside down, hanging from the branches of the huge oak, he faces off to the right, but his head tilts back so that he almost seems to be craning to gaze left from his inverted position. Above his hands, protected by the fold of his legs, he cradles a small, glowing golden orb similar to the one the Page of Pentacles offers.

(e) The Moon (XVIII) - A card of dreams and things half-seen in the pale moonlight which sometimes seems to only create more shadows and uncertainties in amongst the dark trees of the woods. The figure of the Moon stands within a ring of mushrooms, an enchanted faery circle glistening with tiny fireflies and dew. She holds up her left hand pointing upwards, a tiny red heart in her palm, and in her other hand she holds a strange, white mask with elongated nose and red ribbons trailing from it, which she turns her head (to her right, my left) to contemplate. Above her, a gray-white bird, possibly a doe, flies off to the left above her head. She is a figure deeply involved with masks, questions of identity and honesty — she holds at once the bright heart of true emotion revealed to all, and the mask that one might use to conceal it. She stands within a sacred circle, danced around by faery beings, yet she appears solitary and singular in the center, not exactly participating in the gathering. The world around her seems very much like a dream world, both obscure and revealing.

(f) Nine of Cups - The mermaid-figure in this card marvels at the swirling beauty around him, so rich and luxurious — the school of golden fish turn and move, circling almost as one being, sparkling and shining in the dark waters, and the mermaid seems to bow in reverence and gratitude in amongst them. This card symbolizes wealth and luxury, especially in terms of emotional contentment and gratitude, and suggests a feeling of exquisite harmony and fluidity in how everything seems to be coming together. The mermaid faces left, towards the center of the spread, but although the fish swirl around him, many seem to face to the right, towards the placement of the candle of Brigid Star Fire on my altar.

Story: It seems as though these three cards might be illustrating what Place calls a "central problem" pattern, in which there is no clear energy flow and the central card is blocking or dispersing the energy. The center card, The Moon, faces forward, but her face is turned towards the left (her right), with both hands raised. This might also be a "central teacher" pattern or even a linear pattern from right to left, where the final card (the Hanged Man) is turned to meet the action. The figures in these cards seem much more ambiguous than in the Waite-Smith deck Place works with, so I'm not exactly sure how to interpret the energy flow in this story. Assuming a linear pattern to the energy flow, the story moves from the Nine of Cups towards the right — suggesting a beginning in harmony and emotional contentment that then leads through a period of confusion and uncertainty as the Moon contemplates an open, revealed heart on the one hand (literally) while contemplating the mask in her other and what role it might play. This uncertainty and exploration into the dreamworld leads to the final card, the Hanged Man, who is turned to face the on-coming action but holds behind him (to the left, nearest the center of the spread) the glowing ember of possibility and, perhaps, renewal. This interpretation might suggest that a period of confusion will lead to a revolutionary change in perspective, turning the world upside-down and revealing new insights. In some ways, a central teacher or central problem interpretation sees very similar meaning in these three cards, with the Moon acting as a turning point in the process that can either block or give aid during a transition from the emotional contentment of the Nine of Cups to the wisdom-gifting self-surrender of the Hanged Man.

The Bridge Between

(g) Two of Swords - A card of blockage and impasse, the hooded figure stands in the center of the path, blocking the way with drawn swords crossed. A dark and immovable figure in the midst of the forest, his eyes are hidden by his hood so that he cannot see the offerings of the two swans by his side — the small, red heart of love and receptivity and the red-orange flower, possibly a poppy, symbol of sleep and death which open up the way for dreams of respite and renewal. He is frozen like ice, his back towards the right, the center of the three-card spread.

(h) Justice (XI) - A card of balance and harmony, a clear and even mind capable of weighing all things carefully and perceiving clearly and with piercing insight their true character and quality. A card concerned with truth, even when such truth is as subtle and light as the lightness of a feather or a butterfly's wing — in many ways, Justice is also a figure that turns inward to consider the inner tensions within the soul itself, seeking a balance that will help to ease these tensions and allow a return to center and equilibrium from which to take just and appropriate action in the world. The figure of Justice holds the light father-like sword of insight and discriminating mind close to her breast, turning her insight inwards, while holding out the balanced scales to influence and respond to the world around her. She faces forward, balanced and symmetrical in her stance.

(i) Eight of Wands - A card of energy and activity, beginnings and initiatives that move forward with the momentum of what has come before but that leave behind established projects to seek new ground in which to plant new seeds. The figure in the Eight of Wands sets loose her seeds drifting in the wind, carried to new fertile ground where they may germinate and take root, growing into new saplings and eventually great trees. But this process seems to happen largely without personal effort or involvement, carried along simply by the force and energy of the activities themselves and the wish that set them spinning out into the world on their gossamer filaments. The figure faces away from the center, towards the right, watching as her wishes are carried off by the wind.

Story: The flow of energy in these three cards very clearly fall into the pattern Place calls the "central origin" — a central card facing forward, with cards on each side facing away from the center in opposite directions. In this case, the center card of Justice may indicate a current pattern in the relationship and the two results that may arise from such a pattern. Clear insight and discernment, with a focus on finding a careful balance and weighing truth against truth, gives rise, on the one hand, to the Eight of Wands, a card of momentum and energy (especially one that will lead to new beginnings) that are largely impersonal in nature and somewhat "left up to" the forces and whims of nature. This might mean that the stillness and inward-turning nature of Justice is likely to give rise to activity of a dispassionate and impersonal nature, instead of a more personal involvement and engagement. In the other direction, another result that may arise from the pattern embodied in Justice is the Two of Swords, an impasse in which the swords of analytical thought are held at cross-purposes, barring the way and preventing a deeper receptivity to the gifts being offered. Given that the Two of Swords appears to the left, closer to Manannan's side, and the Eight of Wands appears to the right, closer to Brigid Star Fire, this suggests to me that too great a focus on discernment and balance may lead to an impersonal but potentially fruitful relationship with Brigid, but will only serve to block or prevent a deeper relationship with Manannan, whose fluidity and receptivity might be stymied by over-analysis.


Overall Interpretation: I find this reading difficult and rather ambiguous in its meaning, and I suspect one of the biggest reasons why is because I did not clarify enough in my own mind exactly what I was asking before beginning. Am I treating Manannan and Brigid as two distinct entities and asking for insight into how they relate to each other, as though they were two mutual friends of mine and I was looking for insight into their relationship? Or am I asking for insight into how each of these deities fits into my spiritual life in an integrated way that brings them into relationship? In other words: where am I, as querent, in this spread? I think the second version of the question is probably the closest to the one I was intending (though having a clearer question in mind may help in the future). If that is the case, then it seems likely that the three cards for each deity suggest how that deity is in relationship to me and how that relationship shifts or changes with the involvement of the other deity; while the "bridge" between the deities seems to be about my own attitudes in how to consciously connect them or bring them into relationship in my practice and approach. What's interesting is that, for each deity, the card closest to that deity and farthest from the center seems to reflect or echo the "core" of the other deity: the card closest to the heart of Manannan is The Star, a symbol that I have been connecting deeply with Brigid (Star Fire); the card closest to the heart of Brigid is the Nine of Cups, an intensely watery card depicting an underwater ocean scene. In both of these cards, water and fire, darkness and light share an intimate relationship with one another, suggesting that it is unwise, if not impossible, to try to separate them out into distinct entities without running the risk of diminishing one or both. As the relationships in each of the three cards moves towards the center, ambiguity and uncertainty seems to enter the picture (especially in regards to Brigid), but the card closest to the center in each three-card grouping holds that seed of light that is offered as a potential new beginning, new opportunity or new insight into the world. In this case, the "bridge" with a fulcrum as Justice, concerned with separating out and discerning between opposites, might represent my intellectual attempts to reconcile these changing relationships and clearly delineate each deity, though it seems such an attempt may be wrong-headed and unhelpful right from the start. This seems especially ironic considering that at the beginning of my reading, I spent a minute in meditation reaching out to the energies of water/sea below and fire/sky above, joining them together in the earth/tree of my body (as per the DOTR three realms working from Lesson 2) and asking for clarity of insight in my reading.

With that, I'm going to do a final three-card reading asking for advice to see if this interpretation may be even remotely on the right track.

Final Advice

(c) Ace of Cups - A gift and beginning, the first drop of water that unites with the ocean, merging with the source of all water and life, sending ripples out in all directions. This card is one of utter unity and wholeness, the emotional and intuitive core from which all else springs and ripples outward — mystical in its connection the the sacred grail or chalice, source of life. The first stirrings of gladness and joy, an initial surge of connection and attraction, as the tides are pulled by the moon, it is also a card of imagination and receptivity.

(b) Queen of Wands - A fiery queen of passion, initiative and energy, she stands at her harp, her living wands, drawing the delicate strains of music from its strings as the creatures of the forest still to listen, entranced by her energy and enthusiasm. As queen, she has the maturity and composure to balance her fiery energies with receptivity and love, and these weave through each other to lend beauty and depth to her activities. She is self-confident, playful and at ease with herself, whether she is the center of attention or retired into the background.

(a) King of Cups - A king of intuition, emotion and receptivity, he governs with endless patience and calm, deeply in touch with the emotional and spiritual needs of his subjects. He is a protector and provider, offering healing and cleansing from his sacred chalice. Balancing out the receptivity and fluidity of his natural element with his maturity and authority as king, bringing structure and order to his realm. Yet his authority arises not from imposition or control, but from being deeply attuned to the patterns and currents of intuition and emotion that flow through the world.

Story: The pattern in this final three-card reading is obviously, almost overwhelmingly linear, moving from right to left, from the Ace of Cups through the Queen of Wands to the King of Cups. All of the figures in these three cards face to the left (even in the Ace of Cups which might be expected to be forward-facing, the golden fish that arise from and swim around the chalice face to the left). In this story, then, it seems that the Ace of Cups represents a beginning, an initial gift of connection and intuition that then led to a relationship with the Queen of Wands, a queen of fire, energy, passion and creativity. This seems to clearly indicate a relationship with Brigid (Celtic fire goddess). Through this relationship with the Queen of Wands, there is then movement towards the King of Cups, a powerful king of the depths of intuition and emotion. Again, this seems to so obviously indicate Manannan, not only in imagery and symbolism, but in the suggestion of intense emotional engagement that I feel with him. The three cards, moving from right to left, actually move across my altar from my Brigid candle to my Manannan candle, again seeming to indicate a linear movement from one to the other. Yet, the fact that Brigid is represented by a Queen and Manannan by a King (each of which themselves have a balance of energies within them — fiery feminine, watery masculine) seems to be a strong suggestion that, even within this linear progress, Brigid and Manannan are paired as a couple and are intimately related to each other. Overall, the advice of this final reading seems to be to accept the unfolding progress of events at face value — a linear movement through/away from Brigid and towards Manannan — and to allow myself to explore this relationship with Manannan more deeply, but without worrying that to do so will somehow weaken my relationship to Brigid. As a fiery Queen of Wands used to being the center of attention and showing up in the center of the spread, it's unlikely she will be going anywhere any time soon.