Friday, March 18, 2016

Good morning and Welcome! to my Scales of Ma’at for 18Mar2016 : today my Heart is hanging out with a “bad influence,” the 9 of Swords, while the Feather of Truth is cooling her jets and snoozing over on the 7 of Disks. (Today’s deck is of course *The Tarot of the Holy Light* by Christine Payne –Towler & Michael Dowers. Revelatory & superb. The art is not static, it lives. Each card is an esoteric summation, beautifully done, yet it doesn’t slight the exoteric, either. Readings flow seamlessly for me. This is a new criterion of judgement I am employing, and so far there are just a handful of decks within my hundreds with which readings “flow like water.” This is one.) So, my Heart today is suffering the consequences of our detour yesterday. Let me explain – yesterday, I was “supposed to” progress from the 3 of Wands to the King of Wands in some sort of law-abiding and peaceful manner. (I despise the verb “should.” It was invented at the same time as guilt, and both are equally useless, the word itself slightly less so, the concept and “implied judgement” reeking to high heaven.) Instead, I took an ill-advised detour through misplaced, smoldering Anger, that I kept leashed because it had no logical target, no just cause. It just Was, and looking for victims. I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from – ostensibly, certain of my wife’s actions, but that was both untrue and irrelevant, as I knew deep beyond the anger. Finally I clued in later in the afternoon that I was angry with the impasse in which I found myself, wanting to JUMP into my little project and chafing at necessary delay, because it isn’t a one-dude pony show. Plus, I indulged in Anger against perceived stupidity, which as we all know is an exercise of the deepest futility. In other words, I wasn’t taming the beasts walking my Inner Fields, and I needed to do so. In order to do that, I had to jump FAR into the King last night to regulate the ebb & flow of Fire energy in me, and that took me into Administrative mode which bears a “fausse ressemblance” to IX the Hermit. So today I’m living with the detritus of that self-made side-mess, the 9 of Swords – perfect! It harkens back to the Mercury in Gemini-ness of my father, always critical & “heavy” after-the-fact, in my youth. (Dad is cool. He’s 83 now, and we long, long ago worked out our kinks. He’s a nice old man now, just like me –LOL. ;) ) I believe we were “built” to be young hellions; besides dad & me, there’s my brother, & in certain respects my sister as well, and to settle into hard-won wisdom with age. Not that I’m blowing my own horn, but I’m sure you understand.) . . . At any rate, like our poor friend the eagle up there, I was/am faced with fighting for my liberty again (not too serious, don’t call the medics) from my oppressors, an aggregate of bad habits and old attitudes still loitering in the shadows. 
When I do break the chain today I will be looking, yet again, at the Feather nestling happily on the 7 of Disks, Waiting. Patiently waiting, but still awake! yes, one must be patient and attend the harvest, but hell! There’s STILL a farm to run in the meantime and everyday chores to do, so don’t sit on your ass, Mark, today Truth lies in routine and patience. “Humility and compassion for the little guy,” as the LWB states (except it isn’t an LWB, it is a big, colorful, illustrated book deep in profound traditions and brimming with esoteric knowledges. [If the Nazis force you against the fence and tell you that “you must choose, Sophie, the book or the deck,” even through the tears, choose the deck, though the book will be a heavy loss. The cards are more likely to survive to carry the message more concisely. If nothing else, they will be treasured as “pretty things” during the Dark Ages to come . . . .]) The 7 is Virgo ruled by Saturn, and I am Aries/Virgo rising/Taurus moon, so this card is one of my little, itty-bitty bêtes noires, Patience. We are . . hmm. . uncomfortable together. I’m all Sturm und Drang, and Patience isn’t, she is the hausfrau in her country dress and braided hair, content to whistle and open peapods. Pretty she is, but a bore. “Ah, but have you met her cousin, Meditation?” everyone tells me. “Yes,” I say, “I have, and I’ve found meditation masculine-style more my thing, thanks. Another drink?” I do meditate, in my fashion . . . . The point being that I can hear Elsa Lanchester’s high-pitched fruity Anglo tones behind that Eye & Pyramid  intoning, “But Await! For yet More shall be revealed!” So, I wait. I don’t fidget, either; I’ve never found that an adequate substitute for the soothing relief of action. So, I “meditate,” and wait (still a bit impatiently, it is true) for that which is still to be revealed. By the way, I’m good with all of this. Having recently realized that I am already in possession of all the Keys I need, now it is a slightly less breathless task to put all the cogs and gears in their proper places and working order and set sail for the æthers of the Divine, a one-way trip. (“The Æthers are like Hotel California – you can check in, but can never check out.” True or False? You have 15 minutes, your papers WILL be graded and count towards your final grade.) I’m just glad to be out of yesterday, to tell you the truth. It felt uncomfortable and even unattractive, something which in my youth would never have occurred to me. I’m simply thankful that with the advance knowledge of where it was advisable to go, that choosing to do differently didn’t take me down uglier roads than that. I’m also thankful I hurt no one – something which I regret needing to consider after one of these foolish caprices; I wounded no one with unkind word or deed, so I can sail into today with my marbles bright and shiny and ready for another game. May the Cosmos be Joyful and Bounteous with us today, and may we have the Openness to receive it!    

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