If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now, put the foundations under them.

~ Henry David Thoreau, Walden

What wonderful experiences occur when you listen to yourself and consistently and diligently work your natural way with embodied care and attention to your experience within? What wonderful experiences within occur when you do? Is it like amending your own soil?

~ Jordan Hoggard

Thief!

You see, several years back, maybe 10?, No, it was 9. It was 2011 when Schiffer published Tarot in the Land of Mystereum: An Imagination Primer Tarot deck and 192-page book boxed set. It was the last time I connected with my Dad before he had Parkinson’s, which soon became full boat. We had THAT conversation. It wasn’t about the birds and the bees, though it certainly had to do with Nature… OUR Natures fully in play together.. that wonderful, family alchemy time…

Dad: I don’t buy into all this Tarot and Astrology pseudoscience stuff. You really need to be careful about indulging in that. Do you care about your career as an Architect?

Me: (laughing and laughing and laughing some more to pause… and then laugh some more to the point that he steeped into the ablution immersion pool with…

Dad: Well now Jordan, whatever has tickled you so much?

Me: (coming to an ebb in my laughter for long enough to…) You. You, Dad.

Dad: Well, I wasn’t being funny. This is serious business. I respect this deck thing you’ve created for its consistency of 78 painting in a painting series, though that’s that.

Me: LOL, Dad, maybe not as serious as you know, That is certainly not that.

Dad: Well, what do you mean by that? This IS serious. I care about you. I don’t want you toddling off over these cliffs and mucking up your life.

Me: Well, 1st off, why the affected pause of ‘Well,” every time you try to step up? Secondly, (holding hand palm forward), You’ve had plenty of time Mr. Mentor/Tormentor. You’ve always cared, inside, though you didn’t take it to out here except in word and action. Where’s the feeling filling those two with fuel made of simple courage? So, I will. I will right now. Thirdly, I toddled dafuq off when at 4 1/2 and 5 1/2 I had 13 1/2 and 16 hour major surgeries at the Mayo clinic. You were there. Do you remember the oxygen tent I was in for 10 days the 2nd time? Do you remember them putting me in the “playroom” at night because my screaming nightmares Which usually squeezed out a turd I was so clenched like a human singularity that kept the other patients up? … and, that because of the HVAC balance the heat was NOT on in that room at night which meant thrown out in the cold, alone, all night, every night?

Me: And, finished counting, here’s the deal, Dad. You’re now Emeritus from a 40-year rockin’ career as a Professor of English, Creative writing, Poetry, British Lit, and Greek Tragedy with your precious Reason. Cool. Though, you know what’s cooler than that?

Dad: Well, sounds like I’m about to.

Me: (shaking head at another “Well, … ,”, though shaking it off)(pursed lips and raised eyebrows about to release, though holding for long enough to…) Dad, here’s the dealio. You’re basically a Senator, head of the Senate in fact pretty much at least from the back-room politics perspective, and you and yours stand there in your white robes clean and pressed and enamor yourself over alleged ideas while drunk on Reason. And then, to use your word, “well,” it happens.

Dad: WELL, what’s that? What happens?

Me: Someone asks you about your son, where he is now? What’s he doing? And, you pause in that way where you know that whatever comes after is made up bullshit duck-and-covering for a response by that person because you’ve chastised a thing, though not engaged a thing that they love. And, they, those people, smell it on you.

Dad: ??? Well… , well, I’ll be. How long have you been holding this pot shot?

Me: Nice try, Dad. Though stop playing checkers to my chess. How long? Wrong question. I haven’t been holding it. I’ve been living it. I’ve been living it my whole life up to this point. Here’s the deal. You and your Ancient Greek Reason Senate are there in the city in your safely enclosed and secure amphitheater with your dramaturgical intellectualism. Where’s your son? I’m at this little 40-mile town called Delphi running the place. And, I AM the Oracle. Maybe you’ve heard of it. Maybe you’ve heard of me. It’s not that I am Sovereign. It’s beyond that. Kings have to come ask me when they want to go to war.

I’ve never heard my Dad laugh so hard in such a connectedly earnest way before or after that moment. We connected. We connected in ways that covered all the omissions from both sides in a way where, in that moment, we knew. We knew not father and son. We knew two connected people in the same family. Us!

Then, fucking Parkinson’s began to take him away. I don’t expect that we would have connected much after that moment, wouldn’t need to. Being around someone where you both GET each other? That’s one of the examples of joy of family. No apologies. No explanation. Experiencing things together. He didn’t work that way, though. His support was unfailing, not dutiful, unfailing, and it was present, regardless. Regardless

The experiential, The poetic? Yes. There was a great 20-mile canoe trip we took together over a 3-day weekend. Then, when he waxed up over the top of too much MIND with It’s like you can hear the Ancient Ones speaking from up there in the tall mountain bluffs. I shook my head, could do no other than, DAD! ENOUGH with the simile. It’s not LIKE anything. I WAS listening to the Ancient Ones speaking… until YOU interrupted it!, and just dug a deep slap of my oar back from the front Of the canoe and splashed him… and we both howled laughing together. We’d both smile at the same things for wholly different reasons. We both knew. We both knew how to give each other room, and though oil and water never really cover the divide, we were (are) a solid oil and vinegar vinaigrette together. Just makes the salad better.

You just had to know, though, and play with the non-verbal actions of love rather than the words, though still… The words were there, though… too much I over we. That was/is his way, now struggling to find words.

Fuckin’ Parkinson’s Is stealing my Dad. He’s there. When I’m physically there, he’s not all MIND with conscious hide and seek feelings like before. His eyes speak what his mouth cannot, or as a Stoic, will not allow. Though, that here is almost all gone. That… Here is Gone.

I can’t not cry. Finally. I can’t not cry. It’s been 4 years coming. Not capping the well for 4 years, just that confusion that placates denial when you have already passed that point and come to terms with… that which you can’t as you live through it.

Let it dafuqin flow! The well is deep. Let it dafuqin flow!

Parkinson’s stole my Dad. We’ll unfortunately never have an Oracle or Ancient Ones canoe conversation like those again.

I love you, Dad… Let it dafuqin flow! The well is deep. Let it dafuqin flow.

I love you, Dad

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Intention is important, and it can also be vastly over-rated. It is far more important the way an idea comes across.

Jordan Hoggard, at a BBQ in 1992 or 1993 in Denver, CO

Table of Contents

   1^st     ImaginAction Divination Spreads Creation Story     1^st 11 pages

   2^nd    ImaginAction How-To                                                     Next 10 pages

   3^rd     78 ImaginAction spreads                                               001 through 078

   4^th     To Establish Value                                                           Last page

Invest in yourself. I hear it lasts a lifetime.

Warren Buffett

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