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I Don’t Believe in Bad Cards. None. Notta One! 5 of Pents, 1min 06secs

It can take a while, be quite a process, to get to 1 minute 06 seconds. Brevity’s not the soul of wit on this one. The 5 of Pents can be quite a journey, quite a mountain to climb. C’est la vie 🙂

I don’t believe in Tarot or Astrology, a neighbor recently expressed.  Hmmm. GOOD! I don’t, either!

WHAT?!! What do you mean you don’t believe in Tarot or Astrology?! You’re a TAROT READER. You’re a TAROT AUTHOR. You’re an ASTROLOGER for cryin’ out loud! Don’t you make your living with that stuff?!

[[ (:) Laughing to myself. Thinking, glad they had good grammar with the ‘an’ before the ‘a.’ In Astrologer(:) ]]

I don’t believe in my range or fridge, either. (Credit shout shout to Shawn Nicole, James Wells) I use them often to provide nourishment, though. They got it. They saw my perspective, and sorta started seeing their own in a different way. Inspect what you expect, I said (Unknown author, and I’m currently for some beautifully unreasonable reason not trusting the mixed message attributions given for the quote when kneeling to the Google Oracle.)

My Personal Pentacle

Natal Astrology Chart as Personal Pentacle on my fave leather deck box

I don’t believe in Tarot. I don’t believe in my range. I don’t believe in bad cards in the Tarot, either. Further, though, I feel bad cards don’t exist in the Tarot. Like dogs and cats and children and people. No bad cards, only bad owners — all the adults out there, yes, that’s you. Aren’t we each responsible to adult in the ways that only each of us can own as we’re now the parent of ourself? Hmmm, yes, no, maybe. Though, I presumptuously and pedantically digress. Doncha hate it when that happens? No, wait, that’s process. Ok, NOW the digression’s over. Geez. I’m getting tugged on this one. Love it. So many dodges, parries, and slips to keep to what I originally wanted to express. No bad cards.

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A matter of perspective, life experience, and the proper wits and will to utilize one’s life experiences tend to tenor and cascade through the flow of a reading.

I’ll say it again. Inspect what you inspect. Especially, from yourself before, during, and after readings.

Inspect what you inspect, and be fluid. Don’t go with the flow. Only dead fish go with the flow.

You see, I have a secret. It’s a public secret if you know me. Though, nonetheless it seems to resurface enough times like some kind of public Alzheimer’s is present so that it continually reverts to presenting itself as a secret. I could take a different path by simply denying it next time, and it might not ever come up again. WhatsUp with the forgetfulness? I mean. I’ve only been radio silent for 7+ years. Confusing? Maybe it is a naive denial on my part. Oh, WAIT! Nope, its the secret part that hides in plain sight.

My secret? I have a mantra. It’s simple to me. It may not set right for others. Though, after almost dying on the mountain (+ 2 additional other times, both on a mountain) I began to full-on understand the relationship of blood and rocks and sand and Nature itself, and my responsibility to my creativity and imagination. They desiccated and disappeared for 8 years (from May 2008 when they started going — that’s another blog) to 3+ years ago when I started Brainspotting with a Psychologist knowing my normal prolific creating had been gone too long to ignore. It was approx 17 years after the mountain in 1999. Mt Democrat. To close that out, I certainly put in my vote there.

It’s a very common symptom of intense PTSD. Very common to lose creativity, then have your imagination follow suit. It’s often gradual enough that you acclimate at each step to disappearing little by little. Now? Year 12 after May of 2008 (the financial crash), and year 21 after the experience, here I am. I climbed a different mountain in the background across these 17 – 21 Cicada Years.

So, maybe it’s just that I’ve stared death in the face and reached out a hand to call the bluff. Then again, death mighta just yanked. So, that wasn’t it. Plus, that would be hubris just askin’ for it. Hubris, Easy to taunt, easy to fool. ~ The 300.  I’ll call it Nature, and Nature’ll kill ya, and/or like you very much inside with fortitude beyond your imagination. I didn’t beat Nature. I didn’t win. I found my own Nature inside that day, and I lived. It only took me 21 years to come into my own with it. So, my mantra settles right in with me. What is it, you ask? DAYum this is a long prelude. Ok, no more teasing. Here it is:

Don’t waste trouble.

That is one of my breaths. It has its bindu back-and-forths deceptively long and short. don’t waste trouble plays its part in the breath of my path, In fact, it reigns In my sovereignty like an expert violinist carrying one note for just about ever as if it’s only one note and one motion. There’s something hiding in plain sight. It’s not only one note in one, continuous motion. That’s the poetry of their expertise at play. it’s kelpingly fluid seamless segues of moments in motion continually in movement. It’s also much like freehanding a perfect circle where you are always in a constant tangential change of direction. One must dispense with analysis and order to flow with their own way to abduce and draw out a circle. Drawing a circle with a big Sumi brush is beyond meditation. It’s like a personal ET abduction where one abducts themself in finding their true way. Then, the calligraphy starts. And, you thought the circle was difficult! LOL

Train until the mind forgets and the body remembers. ~ Ip Man (Yip Man)

I guess that bindu breath violin bow action and drawing a circle are like heartbeats over a lifetime.

Don’t  waste trouble. Sovereign. Will you say it out loud?

I am Sovereign. Don’t waste trouble.

Don’t. Waste. Trouble. Am I sovereign? I Am sovereign. Can you explore that question in yourself? Can you shed those words to explore it further?

The 5 of Pents card often provides trouble for people VERY OFTEN. I’ve heard it called a bad card more times than I can count. And, I’ve heard it called much worse as well. Maybe Urban Dictionary will document those new expletives.

It’s wonderfully evident why people consider the 5 of Pents a bad card for a whole host of reasons which I won’t go into here. Though, I don’t see it that way. Neither, do I see the 5 as a chaos number, nor the 7. I see 5 as a, maybe even THE, number of Nature — though I would fight myself over that to promote the 9, the Nin, the Tao of a certain Japanese martial and meditation system. 5 and 7 operate like the weather, not like emotion. There are certainly plenty of attributions one can aptly dance back and forth, though from my perspective 5 is a number that just does as if without thought or will. Like Nature. 5’s mind has forgotten, and 5’s body remembers is the way I see it.

So, we got past the false summits of the climb up to over 14K feet above sea level on a 14’er blog post. So, now we experience the expansive view. Here’s an example of one of my Don’t Waste Trouble mantra-breath-violin-bow-bindu thoughts in regards to a bad card.

I gift the upcoming 5 of Pentacles Mystereum Tarot Moment video to amplify anyone’s Inner Snake Tooth to direct itself to poke and lacerate and liberate and emancipate themself from the Snake-Egg Valence Shells and Loki Onion Skins borne mostly of trauma, and begin to further become the fresh serpent so to speak, his/her skin shedded, his/her skin not missed. Was that a long enough sentence forming a whole paragraph? Climb a mountain and have trouble, and that was a blip. Ya gotta say Fuck blog and SEO guidelines on the mountain. It is what is is, and Nature’ll kill ya if you aren’t natural there. No malice, no motive. Nature’ll kill ya on the mountain if you don’t listen to fear as a trusted guide and ally and allow anxiety to hijack it into it’s being afraid mold.

My gig is knowing this process lasted a lifetime, though not to tire through what seemed exhaustingly infinite Loki Onion Skins and Egg Tooth Valence Shells. I remember Mt Democrat. That was exhaustion. I literally almost saved myself to death that day and through the night. This is not that. This is your subtle, daily goings on, and frankly that may be much more intense over time than almost dying on a mountain. Take care of the little things, and you will be given much. ~Bible — as it alludes to keeping your filter clean, not letting things build up, and getting shit done actionably. Like with a sword, ya gotta work clean to live and die and make it back down to base camp on the mountain of life without cutting off your own leg.

Moving forward, when the 5 of Pentacles comes up, I suggest, how can you not waste trouble?

Here’s one of my odes to No Bad Cards, the 5 of Pents Mystereum Tarot Moment. Here’s to you living life your way!

From Tarot in the Land of Mystereum

What has has always been.
What is has always been.
What will be has always been.
~ Louis I. Kahn

Past, present, and/or future trouble?

Please don’t live in it. Immerse WITH it and MEET it.

Undisguise some blessings from inside today.

 

How can YOU not waste trouble today?

Ace of Pentacles     2 of Pentacles    3 of Pentacles    4 of Pentacles

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The Wisdom of the Heartfelt Hierophant

I am resonant as I re-read something that struck chords in me 20 years ago. It stood and still stands as one of my faves, and of course it feels different this time. No longer an Initiate, I initiate myself, feel a new charge cascade in tingles throughout me like when you hear someone sing in just that way that wonderfully waterfalls an ablution inside you.

This time around, my Hermit-Devil character, assemblage of Magician on the Right, Priestess on the Left, this time with them married within me form is again made from the formless. The cairn on the path of this passage is not unconsciously passed by this time with sparkly eyes drunk on wonderment. To clarify, that was a good thing. To enter. To enter from a place inside where reasons are unreasonable. To enter fully, because my I Am must, I had to, and so I did. I had a choice, though I am My Am. I did not bow my sovereignty to Must then. I stepped into the unknown with it bringing in Tarot full force alongside Architecture,Art, Alchemy, Poetry, and Psychology. It may have been one of the most important and courageous things I’ve done. Fears then were simply signs to inform my awareness. Acceptable risk was even off to the side behind me, left somewhere in the dust. Being afraid was like anxiety and worry, a waste of energy. I had plenty of fear, though being afraid was not a quality of them. Being aware in a manner where fear was simply the wise Counsel of Nature, of what was, is, and potentially will be. I entered fully, without a net. I stepped past my own steps.

As I immerse in the fresh discovery of my previous, first footprints that began an important cycle back then, I pause in respectful Silence and cherish the wild intensity of my creativity then. I steep, aware and conscious of this milestone moment of a new cycle, passage into a new orbit. I feel like the serpent maybe does just before it bites its own tail. I live in the meditative moment where the world of the serpent experiences that quark of a millisecond AS it bites its tail, becomes the Uroburos, and disappears Forever to bleed itself out of the serpent, out of the tip of the lead into the circle.

New circles, such as the one I have just had the honor to experience, make all things go ‘round. Awake again, I step more fully into into my previous footsteps, their paired and alive, talismanic artifacts, and stand like a Temple on their unseen stylobate, their fecund made-of-earth foundation. We stand together as I breathe the joy of being refreshed. As we stand together, One, my heartbeat fuels the next evolution, the earth’s presence rises from my feet with their groundgrabber toes up and throughout me, and my future orbits begin to present themselves to come more into focus. I will not describe them now. That would be a disrespectful irritant of a grain of sand, an undue influence to their soft oyster newness. As a Creator, I am deftly familiar with the responsibility to be the rock under which freshly molted ideas hover under my watch as they acclimate to move and make form from the formless. No irritants allowed. No grain of sand. I’m not out to make a pearl. Here, in a new circle, the snake his skin shedded to artifact steps, the snake his skin not missed Moves forward.

Enough about me. Back to the book that transported me above to right here. As I immersed into this book this time, a particular line struck me as one of my favorite assemblies of words to date. It may stand as the most concise and clear statement about creativity and divination that hasn’t lost its heart to the analytical, hasn’t divorced beauty to forsake its heart for a mistress of structure. For sure it’s no skeleton in a biology class used with overt irony as fact to discuss living things. It’s skeleton, it’s structure, is embedded within it like a 4 of Pentacles hidden bridge, and it’s still possibly an invertebrate. I needn’t know that distinction. The snake, his skin not missed resonates throughout with the chords struck by what i will refer to as The Astral of Ancestral Divination, and Forensic Archeological Empathy. No old, desiccated Hermit sitting in a Hierophant throne here. This is the Hierophant, wisdom from experience immersed in the throne of the heartfelt. Enjoy this assembly of words, this quote from someone whose politics in life I firmly do without, whose work I respect and value to the utmost. If it whets your whistle, enjoy!:

Symbolic representation and imagistic writing are the pure hieratic forms of esoteric expression. Through symbolism, and through it alone can we read the thought of the Ancients. It is only through the symbolical that we will be able to coordinate the known elements of this great civilization and that the writing may take on its true meaning.    ~ R.A. Schwaller de Lubicz — The Temple In Manp. 19

 

 

 

May you wake to The Sun of who you are with actionable and clear purpose comfortable with the not-knowing.

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Tarot. The First Circle Was Not A Circle At All

The First Circle Was Not A Circle At All…

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It was an uroburos, head bite-touching the origin of its tail 
for just an archetypal         
nano-split second until that quark of an archetype 
embedded itself within  
just as quickly to disappear to become...
a circle with no beginning and no end...
with mystery intact living within it.

Drawing a circle with a compass slowly is like... 
is like unfolding a watch's movements
gears stretching their stationary orbiting
to slow-slingshot outwards while still engaged
becoming time-telling fractalled facets
not infinite facets on a finite sphere
as they shift focus and redirect scale 
in a constantly continuous manner consistently
such as when drawing a perfect circle 
by hand without a compass
for to draw a perfect circle
one must be able to dancingly integrate
the circular branch nature 
of the relatedness of things
even if 
simply related by adjacency or infinity of non sequitur
so as not to distract the focus of the drawing
of a perfect circle
in one
continuous stroke
as a perfect circle
is composed of an infinite number
of mini-chord lengths
each just longer than a point 
while changing direction continuously.

That is the alleged difficulty of drawing a perfect circle 
by hand sans compass
being comfortable enough with planning to be able to be even more
comfortable with the forgetting for getting
within and about to orbit in a naturally moving not-knowing
conscious of the feeling
though again transcending 
the step-off-the-path-never-stepping-off-the-path
of the circular branch
simply having the circular branch integrated 
as dog-eared and well-worn experience

being comfortable enough with planning 
to be able to be even more comfortable with the forgetting 
for getting within and about to orbit 
in a naturally moving not-knowing
living right in the tip of the pencil
tough again transcending the steps of the circular branch
to dance continuously changing direction 
naturally always changing
direction naturally moving
The circle may have no beginning and no end 
once it is drawn 
or drafted
or delineated
or rendered.

While drawing it, though, 
whether with a compass or freehand
infinity naturally dwells 
in the feelingsense of the action
prefiguring the nano-split second uroburos archetype 
to quark in and then embed within the chthonic reaches of it
each and every time a circle is drawn.
Do it long enough 
and simply thinking about your compass will do it.

I can call the Self, Chthonic Numinosity.  
I can call it The Temple in (Wo)Man.
The Temple of (Wo)Man. Neverminding that pedant statement

The first circle was not a circle at all. 
It was an arced freehand line completing itself, 
a curved compass line touching its beginning 
to overlap with seamless segue
where no knowing was required, 
and the very act of lead passing over 
onto its own lead arced-line origins,
formed knowing as the head of the snake as it touch-bit its tail
becoming an archetypal figure
that disappeared just as fast within itself
as it moved inside the line as chthonic heartbeat
full and pure in the unconscious depths Shadow lands,
living as mystery within, a fitting resident for the darkness.

The first circle was not a circle at all
when the inner journey of The Hermit
opened his eyes to unfurl and sail on the mysteries
as he noticed his first steps
and fully engaged the big picture
by focusing so intensely on the detail that time dilated
to be so big and so there 
as to disappear and birth an archetype in the aftershock of the moment
of The Hermit
noticing his feet
meeting The Wheel.

And, another day the serpent within squirmed and twisted over.
The aftershocks of the inner movement twisted the circle,
twisted the circle into infinity,
and the lemniscate was formed.

And, you thought drawing with a compass 
was just going in circles. Ha!
It is why I like Grand Prix F1 over Indy.
I like to do more than turn left all day.
Oh, enjoy that factually fractally faceted circular branch.
And, draw a circle slowly a million times.  
At least take out your compass
and draw several circles slowly 
while fascinating your self with the curved arc
continuously changin direction and especially the place
where the lead touching the paper touches its beginning.

I guess that going to the office 
to draft my own plans for decades actually served a purpose.
I got a single blog out of it. I rather like that.
Hidden within that, though, is a blessing...
the blessing of drawing circles by hand 
and with a compass as a guide
for 3.1 decades. 
This thought was always in there.
This thought was always in there, 
and I was conscious of it every time.
It was in there both consciously and unconsciously 
rattling around in there rattling around 
as my temples flexed knowing something was there
and simply Hermit to Wheel experiencing it...
until today I hadn't written it down.
Strange how deadlines met are met 
yet still take idea-casualties.
Plus, when drawing a circle with a compass,
you don't punctuate the arc while doing so.
Breath does that for you. 
And, there's your rationale 
for me waiting to start punctuating this
until I made drew the circle.
When drawing a circle with a compass,
you don't punctuate the arc while doing so,
until you have, and then you do. It's called dimensioning.
Center location.
Radius dimension.
Angle of arc if not a full circle.
Try it. Be aware of your breath while scribing a circle with a compass. You might want to practice first, though, by patting your head while rubbing your tummy. Have a great one! Scribe ON!

The Circle was born when…

Circle was born for all time timelessly without beginning or end at that point in time hidden in the compass swinging the arc when the curved line touches and lead passes over its own Self lead origins…. at which point in time The Hermit, becoming aware of his steps and seeing his first steps and the familiar surroundings differently, meets The Wheel… at which point in time The Hermit meets The Wheel.

And Hermit to Wheel, 9 to 10, uroburically births an IDENTITY

9 Nines: XVIII Moon ~ IX Hermit

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That’s it for today.  Ciao for now.  Till next time.

Oh, Identity. The uroburos. Let identity be embedded, though don’t let it disappear. I really should come up with a relevant card for this uroburos and identity thingamabobbadoodle… OH!  Silly me.

who you were when you were born, Self, return, identity, bright success in context

who you were when you were born, Self, return, identity, bright success in context

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Tarot Connecting

Hmm. . . Which card in the Tarot represents the symbolic meaning of the ouroburos?

The World from Land of Mystereum

From my perspective many cards in many ways represent the ouroburos. For now I will go with The World as a verge point of the “that which eats its tail.”  I see the eating of the tail as a “so to speak” gesture present in real-time, change as ongoing as breath, like a tadpole absorbing its tail, leading vestigial qualities to continually be and refresh inherent structural, personal components.  Primitive and instinctual features?, and then the cycle of The World card presents a larger, new world being entered.  Similar for the great white shark of the insect world, the dragonfly.  It goes from being an underwater swimming and voraciously carnivorous larva in a chthonic underworld (so to speak) TO numinous flight above.  Brings in “as above, so below” to be symmetrical as to placement but not relative to its form.  I call it educated symmetry. . . things of different identities placed identically or similarly across an axis though they are different identities, different forms. similarly placed across an axis.  Focusing on the ouroburos (uroburos)’ head-tail connection would be related to this “axis of educated symmetry”. On either side is the same body, but of different form. . .body behind head, body in front of head.  The point where they touch is that cascading-throughout milestone/landmark place where transformation occurs.  The cracking of the once-caterpillar’s-now-but​terfly’s chrysalis is as well this point/place.  And, back to the dragonfly.  It’s whole world began under water. It, then, moves above water, to fly!  “Dragonfly.  Break illusions.  Make change.” is an great totem statement.  It also expresses phases and cycles.  How would one express these on a day to day basis without making an overly-intrusive learning curve?  “Breath is prayer” might work.  I believe Alan Watts expressed that a great deal.  Thx, Alan.

So, all that said, I’ll stick with The World as the card I feel for the Uroburos for now, yet any two cards in sequence can as well can represent the place of the connection of the tail being eaten when seen in light of them both being The Fool becoming the next Fool experience.  Every place, every scale you experience . . . there is a whole world there.  Shifting focus, and redirecting scale . . . Card one the mouth, Card 2 the tail.  How do they continually interact on a deep and presently actionable and ongoing level.  Level.  Singular.  All those roads as components of one.  Mitochondia comes to mind.  Mitochondraical sounds like memory sickness, existential, cellular biology alzheimers in the making.  So, I will stick with mitochondria as a non-sequitur that popped up to squiggly-looking structure express connections.  Like . . . think cell nucleus.  The center is rarely in the middle.

Hmmm, so now I say The World as one card is representative of the ouroburos, and also the space or place between two cards is a whole world as well . . .hmmm, any two cards in a reading to be representative of the transformation.  That sounds a bit nebulous, huh?  Think of a stairway.  Think of the stairs AS a place.  Stairs are themselves a place like the space between.  Stairs are the space between spaces, the place between places.  Stairs themselves, when you are on them, are your place.

And, thinking of that I just thought my way through this to see the little squiggly thing I draw when indicating card relationships to switch up and cascade forth and become the ouroburos.  Heck, I’ve used the Leo-looking squiggly since I was 14.  Squiggling a stroke in, and lasso-ing around back to connect places.  Visualize this.  Nice to refresh it.  My diagramming just transformed a little.   Looking forward to that cascading throughout.  What new world will come of this detail? . . . this place where the snake bites its tail?  What new world comes into play when you transform a crucial detail behind/within your head to become a nourishing place before you?  The ouroburos is in a the-present-is-perpetual state continually taking in a new perspective of itself, its tail end, the ouroburos as a metaphor for bringing the tail-end, the horizon between, seen and unseen, right up for close view.  The snake not seeing its tail, curls to tail-touch-bite.  The snake, tail-biting . . .  its shedded skin not missed.

What new world comes into play when a time similar to after The Tower happens for you where “You, only new” occurs?. . . occurs for you when skins are shedded naturally and not missed, you still you are there, only new?!  Is the shedded skin the nourishment of reinvigoration?  Is the newly discovered and experienced world the nourishment of refreshed places?  Both?  Neither?  Both and more?  The Fool can be the whole ouroburos, and as well the micro-place where the mouth meets the tail.  Foot on the Ma?  Not so much.  The World is your oyster when shedding skins.  The next first touch can be just that grain of sand . . . that irritates . . . OR . . . over time you form a pearl with it.  I would say the choice is yours.  I would rather say that you probably deal with things your way.  Are you an irritation hound, or a pearl maker?

So, where is your center on the move?  How does memory influence and fuel your decisions.  Is not the Uroburos a symbolic reflection on how connections are continually made?  And, further, how they are continually made in real time, at speed, on an ongoing basis?

Which card or experience in your life resonates with the connection of the snake biting/grasping/connecting with the tail of its instinct?

Whichever card or whatever experience, best to your best being present in your way.  Simply said.  What drives you?  Not, what is your foundation, but what drives you?  What is the foundational placement that is always refreshed and refreshing when you connect with it.  Personally, I like chocolate with things like rasberries and chocolate in it.  Break it, and see the colorful constellations of a whole universe that you can taste . . . like your tail . . . only useful for YEAH! kinda continuing with breathe as prayer.

Which card in the Tarot represents the ouroburos to you?  Or, which experiential gig plays this part?

Joy in the Mystery continually solved to You . . . for further breaths.  None of us are getting out alive, so isn’t your play expressive of the higher octave expertise of your everything?  Be your expert.  Play as you do.  Maybe there is a tail awareness there.  Maybe.  Maybe I am simply having a hard time cadence-melodying the language of this blog to finale.  C’est finis.  How’s that?

What is your place of a whole world in a single connection?  What is the World really small?  I’d say the 2 of Pentacles, the most crucial connective tissue, the kernel-shell nucleus of integrated opposites that births the onset of antinomy.

Land of Mystereum 2 of Pentacles

What distinguishes your World from a really small and detail perspective?  What is your place of a whole world in a single connection?

Enjoy connecting the two dots!

 
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Posted by on November 8, 2011 in Card Curiosities

 

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