In yesterday’s blog post, I mentioned what I hoped to gain by a daily tarot reading, and it was only afterwards I remembered that the only thing I hoped to gain was a feeling for and a knowledge of the cards. Although I made it sound as if I was looking for a deeper understanding of myself and my life, that isn’t the case. Or at least, it wasn’t. I have no idea now what I’m doing it for.
At the beginning, of course, I did a daily reading more as an homage to my deceased older brother because he was the one who collected the cards. I figured he did so in an effort to understand his life (which was confusing at best, and often horrific). As I’ve become more familiar with the cards, any true reading has to reflect me, my hopes, my life otherwise they are just playing cards.
Still, despite this disavowal, I am looking to them for something since my daily question is “What do I need to know today?” and more often now, “What do I need to focus on?”
I certainly didn’t get into this daily practice to find ways to improve me or to understand more about my life. At this late stage, I’m not sure it matters all that much. So much of what was to be has already been. The past is a long tail on the mote that is today, and today is a mere shadow indicating perhaps what is to come. If I look too far into the future, the end is obvious, so the secret is (perhaps) taking a short long-term view. Or not look into the future at all. And I certainly have no interest in rehashing the past. I’ve done that and have laid it to rest. So to a certain extent, I am a static being suspended in the crucible of today.
I hesitated about inserting “static” in the previous sentence since no one is truly static — we are all changing even if in small ways — but it feels as if I am a done deal. If I could have been smarter, or wiser, or more intuitive, or more radiant, or whatever, I would have thought I would have accomplished that already. Now I so often find myself tired and feeling the weight of my years. It’s hard to find enthusiasm for anything (though I do try, especially when I am posting a commentary here). I’m probably more interested in finding acceptance in myself that in instigating any big change in attitude or attribute.
And yet, there is that daily tarot reading. It’s become such an established procedure of my day that it’s gone long beyond being merely an homage to my brother. Maybe someday I’ll figure out why I continue to do it. Perhaps someday I will even become smarter or wiser or more intuitive. Or not. Who can say? So far, the tarot is remaining mum.
Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.
December 31, 2022 at 11:52 am
Who knows, indeed? Though hopefully the cards stop being so mum sooner or later.