Saturday, April 1, 2017

(I am Large. I Contain Multitudes.)


I'm incredibly Type A.  As such, control is important to me.  When I feel out of control, my world quickly dissolves into chaos.  I flail.  Insecurities and fears run rampant.  And then I try desperately to find something that will help me regain some semblance of control.  I get a hair cut.  I book a sugaring appointment. I deep clean my house and purge garbage bags full of stuff.  Or, you know, I go have a tarot reading.

I'm a practicing Catholic who believes in karma and tarot.  Is this reflective of commitment issues? Maybe. Uncle Walt's words are apt: "Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself.  (I am large.  I contain multitudes.)" That line seeps into my mind countless times throughout the day. I think there's room for all of it -- Christianity, karma, tarot.  At the root, each is about a sense of order and structure amid chaos, a desire for comfort and peace and solace.

I was nearly giddy for my reading.  Much is up in the air in my life.  I hate that.  I guess I was hoping the cards would reveal something concrete; that's not how it works, of course.  I'll be honest.  In the moment, I felt scammed.  Many things they said didn't make any sense at all; it felt like they were grasping at straws.  They were wrong.  Frauds.  But just as I was about to call it quits, elements of deep truth seemed to emerge.

In many ways, a tarot reading is the same as a walk in the woods, a stroll under a blanket of stars, a stretch of meditation.  It's a quieting wherein I come to recognize what I really want, what I truly need.  There's breath and acceptance and calm.  Do I believe in the cards?  Yes and no.  With the cards spread in front of me, various elements resonate, but I recognize they have been there all along.The message that rises to the top isn't new, it was merely dormant, waiting. The cards give me permission to hope, to give myself some grace, to dream.  But mostly, the reading reminded me that I am a child of the universe, not the universe itself.  Humbling. The sooner I can give up my obsession with control, the sooner I can relax and appreciate my life and all the possibilities within it. It's a work in progress.

In parting, one of the readers offered a line so ubiquitous that I often don't pause to think about what it means: Give it up to the Universe.  Then she smiled, "What will be done will be done. What a gift! You don't have to carry it."  We shared a moment of peace. Then, "That'll be $50.  Cash or credit."

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