Thursday, March 31, 2016

Good morning and Welcome! to my Scales of Ma’at for 01Apr2016 : today my Heart is haunting the drifting mists and midnight airs of XVIII the Moon while the Feather of Truth seeks solace in the forest just beyond the 8 of Cups. (Today’s deck is *The Wild Unknown Tarot* by Kim Krans. It is unique and gives profound readings.) It is a “right on” but problematic reading; with my Heart in XVIII the Moon, I am not feeling very disposed this morning to spilling my morning guts on a piece of paper, nor am I keen on the idea of even subvocalizing my reading, preferring instead to gnaw it mentally like a Canis Major with a bone. HOWEVER, that’s not why they pay me the Big Bucks; spill your guts, Mark. (Yes, that’s right; I’m paid quite handsomely for every single Tarot post I make. What? You don’t have the same deal?? I’d speak to my agent, if I were you!) It isn’t actually that I have emotional drama to hide from the prying eyes of Madge Q. Public; it is that I am not feeling very forthcoming about ANYTHING right now. (One can imagine the consequences upon a reading; “Do you see anything?” “Yes, I do.” “What?” “That’s for me to know and you to find out. All I can say is watch out for the falling piano.”) The Moon is a clever girl (or rather fey young man, depending on your preferred mythological system.) In Scorpio scuttling across Pisces, s/he hangs out between Netzach and Malkuth. Water is everywhere, the universal solvent, the vast ocean of night and emotion. It’s ALL about the subconscious down here, and the subconscious is famously mute. “S/He leads us into the blackest depths of our soul where there are no words, just images and ideas. It represents a journey into the Dark, a look behind our own face.” (Raven & me) And it’s true, Dora! I feel not so much like a lost soul in the closed library of the cosmos, but rather like the caretaker who, peculiar individual that he is, lives to walk the silent, empty corridors and hold his own agreeable conversations with the lifeless exhibits. It isn’t a pout, honest! Rather, I think of it as a temporary “disengagement” from the machinery of Caring; as an empath, the world is constantly wounding me, resulting in my thick-as-a-brick hide. Nights on the Moon are my way of getting a facial: I soften up the underlying new skin and slough of the dead, dried and flaking epidermis of my battered emotional self. Please don’t get me wrong – I’m not singing the blues and bemoaning my fate – far from it! In a certain way, I LOVE the weirdness of my life; yet, the cares & concerns of others, just the simple MASS and VOLUME of the world’s hurt, really fucking gets me down sometimes, ya’ know? And when I become overly vulnerable, I need that space shuttle ticket to Destination Luna. There are also echoes, today, of fond farewells to a more “involved,” “active” emotional past, but they ARE that, fond farewells. My Moon is rising over the 8 of Cups, and I can “hear” the Feather of Truth shivering in the woods just beyond the scene of abandonment and melancholy. Move on, Mark, move on. “Nothing good remains for you here.” (TWUT Guidebook) I have never been the type of person who finds accident scenes morbidly interesting & hangs around in the hopes of seeing something revolting. I can turn on the TV for that. But what I am particularly sensitive to is being TOLD to “Move on!” How DARE anyone dictate to the Emperor of the Universe?? LOL. Yeah, there’s a bit of that, too, but “I ain’t gonna lie about it, Pa.”  Part of that ego IS the desire to move on once a situation has been “milked dry” of its utility for me. I know, heartless opportunist, right? But no, just in symbiosis with a Universe which feeds off of me as much as I feed off of it. Having a clear view of the ruthlessness of the cold bronze machinery of the cosmos does NOT mean that I cannot have a fully developed & integrated self for my interactions with LIVING beings. (Yeah, yeah, the Cosmos is a living being . . . don’t get nitpicky with me, I’ll have to “have a talk” with you.) My 8 of Cups is in Hod 
(having boated there) and is feeling very Saturn in the 1st decan of Pisces. Hod is all about structure and logic, but I/we are in Briah here, “Emotions, Ahoy!” so the result is resignation. But, SO WHAT? The message is clear, “Get the HELL out of here.” Or, as Raven puts it, “Nevertheless, happy or not, the call must be heard to leave the bogs of numbness, and the Eight of Cups tells us to abandon the past, leave the current situation, make up our minds most honestly and open our eyes to upcoming changes.” Upcoming changes . . . hmmm. XVIII the Moon, hidden knowledge & agenda . . . hmmm. I suppose that I shall be forced to accept, after all, the position of director of the Nazi army waiting on the far side of the Moon (the premise of a late-night movie I saw this week: unintentionally hilarious film by some very misguided but earnest filmmakers!) Bringing it back to reality . . . none of this is unfamiliar. I’ve “known” since just before the beginning of the New Year that changes were in the wind; I just didn’t, and to a great extent still don’t, know what they involve. Am I plotting world domination? Perhaps plans to apply for the position of Secretary to the Antichrist? Or perhaps Reader to the Stars at some exorbitant rate to prove how deep & special their readings are?? (LOL) I don’t know, yet. I’d like to think that the Ain Soph is going to use the better part of me to reach out and help, but one doesn’t know. (Another in the string of ‘golden’ aphorisms my father has given me: “Go ahead, shit in one hand and wish in the other, and see which fills up first.”) So, I can “wish” that I am used in a way that pleases me, but one never knows. So, in light of that thought, today I would ask the Cosmos to give us ALL the discernment to know the bullshit from the truth today.    

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