When I awoke, I tried my laptop out. A large area of green had grown from the bottom of the screen since last night, creating the illusion that the machine was now drowning in a sea of computerised water. Maybe this is where the messenger of Death steps in; counting my laptop down like a boxing referee.
We were up and out pretty early today. Rain had been forecast but we've only saw the briefest of showers. We drove over to Kate's for midday and joined her parents for tea in the garden. Her father was talking to me about my choosing to abandon alcohol, since it was something he did fifteen years ago. He remarked on how it didn't change him so much as it changed other people. 'Friends' began to not invite him and Kate's mother out because he thinks that their sober presence made others more aware of how much they were drinking. I guess these were not real friends; maybe no more than just drinking buddies.
The circle that Kate and I sit in fortnightly had a psychic fair today. My boyfriend drove us, but it wasn't really his thing. We wandered about for a bit, eyeing up the stalls. Kate bought a hair-pin and I found an army green bag for my old RWS. It is over twelve years old and it's box wore away a long time ago. I thought there might be some interesting things to buy there, but it wasn't half as good as one that my boyfriend and I travelled to last year. One of the things which shocked us was that some of the people we sit with in our circle had stalls of their own; some of them looked quite professional, even if a little overstated. However, from our involvement in the circle, we were both surprised, since a lot of these people are no greater than novice readers. I have been putting off working this kind of fair for a long time because I never considered myself experienced or good enough to give myself to the public in this way. Without meaning to put down those who do (since everyone must start somewhere), seeing people I considered to be less experienced readers than myself actually gave me the confidence to try and get myself a slot the next time one comes around. A death of a long-term belief maybe?
Throughout the day, people put on different free workshops. Without realising what I had agreed to, Kate dragged me off down a hallway to a room where we ended up drumming inside the sacred hoop. Now, I must admit that I was a little unprepared for sitting in a room with White Buffalo and four other people, shaking a rattle while pretending to be sitting under a teepee. I did think I might laugh when the main couple started squawking like Indians, but generally, it was a surprisingly uplifting experience. I didn't get a rush of emotion like one woman did, but I did enjoy the experience, whether the spirit of Medicine Man was with us or not. The two drums, one in deer skin and the other in elk, were so powerful and made beautiful sounds; they were so loud that my boyfriend could hear them from outside, where he had gone to have a cigarette and wait for us. I don't really enjoy meditation, but could see how this kind of participant work might help me to achieve a mediative state I have had trouble reaching before. Kate is already planning to get us booked in for an open air session in a sacred space. Even though I felt as though I had somehow stepped into an episode of Absolutely Fabulous, I got something from being there today and it was worth the overall entry fee.
After missing Tarot talk last week, we took our files and my deck of cards to a county pub. My boyfriend sat with us while we discussed the different names we'd chosen for the major cards.
|Kate and I do Tarot Talk in the sun|
We pretty much came up with the same words, minus a few exceptions. Using the one word method seems to be helping Kate and she read some three card spreads, elaborating on her chosen words by looking into the images. It was a little like shining The Sun into a room of darkness, as she banished confusion and read the spreads with feeling, confidence and a new understanding.
Illustration from The Original Rider Waite Tarot by Pamela Colman Smith