Some good stuff * it’s transpersonal * the ten man of worlds
He sat down next to me, a Frenchman with blue pants and a nice white shirt, and with a rather wide red bandana tied like a sash behind his head, and holding tight his long silvery white hair. He was a medicine man and politely offered me a small bit from his pouch. After another small bit I was on my way and bid farewell to him. After stopping for a cuppa jojo before heading back home, it seemed that I had perhaps crossed over a bit, and was rather acutely aware of a feeling of sadness. And then it hit me. Was it the coupla few of late ?? My cousin had just lost his daughter in a most befuddling boating accident, and more recently I had received a note from someone who I had been hoping to hear from on a project I’ve been working on and hadn’t, and then received a response from him sharing that his wife had passed, and that he hadn’t been ignoring me. And then there was tonight (the solar eclipse), sitting down next to the patriotic enough looking Rene. We were both here to listen to Sasha Rose and to contribute to Blane Lyon’s benefit cancer fund. He was here playing the harmonica, but he had (already) lost his vocal cords.
A fair bit further down the road I didn’t see a crossing ‘possum in time, and that was again another loss of life, and then it felt a bit deeper. From “I’m sorry,” to “I’m really, so very sorry.”
I started wanting and needing to say it, again and again. “I’m sorry, I’m really so very sorry.”
I might have said it to you and used your name, as by chance it’s something I don’t say much, and wondering if and when perhaps there is more (just) cause for the such. And then again I wonder as it doesn’t really land so much. What did land some and of which I next felt the need to say I’m sorry out loud for the things I’ve said or prolly shoulda said, at least by at least one other’s account, that I coulda, woulda, shoulda been sorry for, like sorry for being a tall, single white American male, sorry for starting surfing and actually taking a job outta school that I actually liked and eventually paid pretty darn well. Sorry for making so much money and so early on in my career. Sorry for traveling so much, sorry for my “fantasy” life, sorry for taking jobs and doing things that don’t make sense, not to mention don’t pay so very much. Sorry for not making money, for not driving a super nice car and not owning a house, nor having a family. Sorry for not going to church, sorry for not being Christian, sorry for growing my hair. Sorry I wasn’t really an advanced math student in eighth grade, that I wasn’t a basketball all star in fifth grade, that I wasn’t a pro golfer. I’m angry again. Where is this going, what is this all about ??
Reward * ten of worlds * Voyager Tarot by James Wanless
Am I trapped by material luxury and seduced by material comfort ?? Am I (overly) security conscious ?? Have I lost the fortune (creation) mentality of continuous growth ?? Is there an invitation here to do what’s taboo, to go all in (on life, and as we know, or don’t know of it) ??
Do not stop now. Keep moving. Create, create, and create again. Keep on with the keepin’ on, and keep turning it over. Consider that life has turned favorable for you. Consider to risk, and to have fun, to spread your seeds around and fast about. Fulfill orders and collect in full.
Actor * ten of wands * Way of the Great Oracle
Am I insecure ?? Am I afraid to reveal my true self and most raw (and painful) feelings ?? Does my psychological armour and defense mechanism weigh me down and prevent me from moving on from armor and unto amor ?? Am I a bit schizo, and perhaps confused over my identity and place ?? Am I frustrated over my lack of achievement, perhaps again resulting from an excessive changeability and/or fickleness ?? Am I a Jack (or Jackie) of all trades but master of none ?? Am I afraid to get buck wild with it, and to make my creative resource most evident ?? Or do I know better and of that I am a conduit, and that I can do it.
Eye can do it all. Strive for greater mastery. Act swiftly and spontaneously. Do it now. Adapt and adjust and all the while retain your inner sense of self. Consider that eye have the power to influence and transform. Real eyes my truest of natures. From iGo to we go, liberate (yourself from mental slavery). Real eyes you are extra ordinary. Keep your focus. It’s showtime. It’s now time. Listen, ebb and flow, and know truth as univisceral. Acknowledge your mythical and mysterious origins and aspects. Use and do what works. Meditate. Decline to be typed, marked, measured or defined. Move from stereotype to archetype.
The opossum could well be a msg to “come alive with a more grand design for my life,” and not to lash out (have also been very aware of my repressed anger of late, with it most evident during drivetime, and whereas it oft rears its head/my ire) so easily (and rather to feel compassion/empathy).
