Sunday, December 21, 2014

Good morning, ALL! Welcome to my MashUp for 22 December 2014: the King of Pentacles, XVIII the Moon and lensing for us today in fiery splendor is the Ace of Wands. (Today’s deck is the *Navigators Tarot of the Mystic Sea* by Julia Turk. I have the original deck, not the re-print. It’s an odd thing about this deck – I consider it to be among the most melancholy and saddest I possess. You wouldn’t think that at all looking at the art, and yet that was the overwhelming vibe I received from it straightaway. This, coupled with the film *The Perfect Storm*, which came to cinemas that week, and this deck was set in mental concrete. That was a long time ago – I don’t see the deck as dripping sadness anymore, yet it still gives me frissons of melancholy.) Well; if I do say so myself (in that tone of voice an idiotic woman uses to pat herself on the back for the successes of her children, whom you know without doubt are three ill-shaped lumpen genetic mistakes,) I have rarely walked into a handsomer MashUp. An elegant, receptive, haunting Moon is flanked by two virile, varying-degree Fire carriers, masculine and bold. Well, alright, enough of the cinema of it all, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty of it. The King of Pentacles is a wonderful guy to be, of course. Master of the material, and dispenser of balance in the here-down-below, nevertheless he’s kind of an odd nutter, have you noticed? A satisfied, doughnut-bellied man is not given to adventure, journeys or Change. He’s fine, he wants to stay put, “thank you, and if you are thinking of raising a ruckus here in my kingdom, skedaddle on down the road to the Realm of Swords, they’ll be glad to see you.” Nevertheless, my morning seems to be well-based (perhaps my wife is going to, out of the blue, cook an American breakfast?!?! Nah, never happen. Croissants et cafĂ© pour toi, connard!”) So, feeling replete as the King, I sidle up to the Moon, because I admit it, even kings get lonely, but Whoa! The Moon is in full weirdness tonight. I was recently reading a short piece on how it was necessary to see II and XVIII as flip sides of the same coin. The Priestess with her hidden, but still organized and rather formal, knowledge and teachings, “vs.” the Moon as a symbol of all the dark, mysterious, crazy shit that hides in the Female Shadow. I think the case was a bit belabored and simplistic, but there IS a point to it –the Moon is completely “imprèvisible,” unpredictable. And lest we forget, for a large part of the world the Moon is male. God knows I hate a drama queen, WAY too high-maintenance for me to care (although, to be fair, that could be applied to lunar goddesses as well.) Do you know the antique Greek diagnosis for hysteria? It was caused by the womb breaking free of its anchoring point and floating, meandering freely throughout the body until it lodged in the head, and cause behavioral disturbances. This was cured by packing the head with foul-smelling herbs to drive the womb away, and packing the vagina with sweet-smelling herbs to attract it home. I mention this because the Moon is crazy and the King of Pentacles is horny, both metaphysically and physically; that may “shock” you, but FACE the card, “the King of the Earthly element” and sex & procreation have firm footholds there. Rather voyeuristically, this melodrama is being watched and blended (“lensed”) by the Ace of Wands, Mr. Fire Idea. I have always wanted to be more Wand-like, but there is no getting away from being a Sword when you are one. It’s evident that the Ace is signifying the birth of something new, something idea-oriented, and with a good dose of luck and a prayer to Hathor it won’t be some writhing, greenish, oozing, tentacular squealing horror to which we give birth. I do hope that between us all we can come up with the start of a marvelous new phase, and perhaps even get one or two backburner ideas out of storage and off the ground. A stray affirmation offered to me for today says, “My life is filled with abundance and joyful happenstance.” I couldn’t help but break out cackling with crazed laughter at the thought of Aleister Crowley saying that to himself in a pompous, puffy manner. I think I shall go with, “With the aide of Two at their Heights of Being, I shall conceive a spark and regard it with humility.”

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