What the hell, Tarot? Last two draws for this column: the Death card. And today? The Tower. The Blasted Beech (Tarot of the Hidden Realm deck). Will they make it? They are falling from a great height. Will they make it? The one with the fiery red hair reminds me of our friend from the […]
The Sun is in Cancer now so home, family, and mother metaphors come easy, they slip off the tongue like pearls.
A couple weeks ago we got the news that we have to move.
About a month before that, I got a Tarot reading.
Yes, I give them and I get them! My Tarot lady did a Celtic Cross for me and then groups of three cards, for specific questions.
One of the most striking spreads revealed the Death card followed by the Wheel of Fortune.
Every loss is a repeat of the…
Every loss is a repeat.
I’m sad about moving. And I know that sadness has attachments to it — to the past. Like in an email you might send — a photo. A document. A love letter. An attachment.
The Wheel of Fortune has no such attachments. It drops them all with every uptick of the wheel.
Of all the cards of metamorphosis in the Tarot, of all the cards of profound change in the Tarot, I think the Wheel of Fortune is my favorite. It’s less startling than the Tower. Less heavy than Death.
The changes, in fact, could be sweet.
Some renditions of this card depict a carnival ride, Wheel of Fortune as ferris wheel gone wild. Up up up then down down down — but ferris wheels are supposed to be slow. Meditative. Cloud-watching.
See, I think it’s both.
You’ll get your peace — when you see the Wheel — you’ll get your miracle, but not until after the wild.