I'm always looking for new ways to use the Tarot for Journaling. Today, I pulled out a great book on Journaling...'a Writers Book of Days' by Judy Reeves. I look up the prompt for today...Aug. 23, and it says, 'Something's burning.' Images that haunt you. Ok. I use the Archeon Tarot Deck that I love, haunting images that work perfect with haunting questions. I draw these 3 cards at random. Well, nothings really random...the Queen of Cups, Death, 5 of Wands. Oh, joy. What a great draw to write about. I must need to do this. So, I will.
Something's Burning:
I just dreamed this last week, actually a nightmare, black smoke was pouring through the vents in the house. I panic, dialing 911. I have had a fire. Just about everyone in the world can tell a scary story about fire. Right now I have a white candle burning as I write...scented 'Fresh Cotton.' Fire keeps me warm in the winter, heats my water, cooks my food. So, using these three cards as my story prompt, what is burning. My desire to change the way I see things. The desire to let go of what I can't fix, stop trying so hard. The images I see from these cards are...a gentle lady holding her golden cup, gazing into the future with hope. The grim reaper, sweeping away what she doesn't need, the soulless man, a hand print marks his chest, as she declared he's out of time. Stop.
This is about my father. The smoke, the panic, needing help. Someday, this will make sense. Now, I just have to trust there is a plan. And I don't have to understand it...I just have to relax. Let go of the outcome. Stay soft, stay hopeful. Stay. Don't run, don't hide. It's all good. He told me just last week, he has prostrate cancer. Ugh, hard to even type. At his age, they think the cure is worse than the disease. So, to quote him, 'if I can get in my boat and catch one more fish, that's a good day.' Something's burning...the desire to talk to him, say what I can't say. Make it all better. Heal all the years and years of scars, hidden and stuffed under the bed. Until they sneak out at night, waving at me, reminding me they are still there, through my dreams. Think I will call him tonight. Yeah. Give the ghosts a rest.
1 comment:
I've been reading your journal for a while, but I've never left a comment. I had actually talked to you briefly about participating in a performance that fell through a couple of years ago. So sorry to hear about your father. I know nothing anyone says can make it right. I also recognize that desire to say things, brfore it's too late, but you know what? I've found that a lot of times, the people we love already know. Take care.
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