Leaning Back on the Edge

From the Prairie Tarot, the Nine of Cups; from the Medicine Cards, the "Snake:"

          This cowpoke seems so happy and content. He's had the perfect week, and now with his pay in his pocket, he's relaxing at his favorite saloon. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but his chair is about to tip over. There's a rattlesnake waiting outside that's coiled and ready to spring. It could be an old friend who's betrayed him or his foreman telling him he's having to make cutbacks. Whatever it is, it will push him to his edge.

Most of us do not take these situations as teachings. We automatically hate them. We run like crazy. We use all kinds of ways to escape -- all addictions stem from this moment when we meet our edge and we just can't stand it. We feel we have to soften it, pad it with something, and we become addicted to whatever it is that seems to ease the pain. ~ Pema Chodron

But Snake's message isn't all bad; it can lead to transformation, something that changes us from the inside out if we don't zone out or freak out:

 Sticking with that uncertainty, getting the knack of relaxing in the midst of chaos, learning not to panic—this is the spiritual path.

Because of mindfulness, we see things when they arise. Because of our understanding, we don’t buy into the chain reaction that makes things grow from minute to expansive....It all comes through learning to pause for a moment, learning not to just impulsively do the same thing again and again. It’s a transformative experience to simply pause instead of immediately filling up the space. 

In the words of the sixteenth Gyalwa Karmapa, “You take it all in. You let the pain of the world touch your heart and you turn it into compassion.”

~ Pema Chodron

Fail Better

From the Prairie Tarot, the King of Coins; from the Medicine Cards, "Salmon:"

          Now this is quite a pairing: the hands-on King of Coins with the wise and tenacious salmon. I can imagine this man traveling west, expecting to find land to cultivate. Instead he discovers dry, arid soil that isn't very hospitable for growing crops. Does he try anyway, beating himself over the head with that mallet when he fails then fails again? I don't think he gives up, but he is wise enough to know his agricultural plan will not bear fruit. I'm guessing he began prospecting for gold and found success through this new endeavor.
          In a commencement speech at Naropa University (where her granddaughter was graduating), Pema Chodron said:
There is a lot of emphasis on succeeding. And whether we buy the hype or not, we all want to succeed, especially if you consider success as “it works out the way I want it to.” You know it feels good in the gut and in the heart because it worked out. So failing, by that definition, is that it didn’t work out the way you wanted it to. And failing is what we don’t usually get a lot of preparation for... not just going down the tubes with it but actually taking responsibility for what is happening to you and having some tools about how to work with painful feelings, raw feelings. So fail, fail again, fail better. It’s how to get good at holding the rawness of vulnerability in your heart. 

A Sticky Subject

From the Prairie Tarot, the Empress; from the Medicine Cards, "Horse:"

          A woman with needlework in her hand watches a mother hen, who in turn watches over her chicks. What the Empress creates, she also protects and nourishes. While she's well aware of the natural cycle of life, she also has a lot of emotional energy invested in what she loves. Horse on the other hand represents both power and freedom. There's a reason his head is turned away from the Empress; he knows those emotional ties can bind. Those ropes are responsibilities and the reason one's choices become fewer and far between. Ask the mother of a newborn, the child of a parent with dementia or the spouse whose husband has Parkinson's disease, and they will tell you about their loss of freedom. Yet I can hear the Empress rage about unselfish love, about being willing to take the hard road rather than the easy one. Is there a middle way between the stickiness of emotions and the desire to be completely free of such entanglements? I suppose even Horse would have to agree with the Empress that nothing lasts forever.

Hold On to Those Quills

From the Prairie Tarot, the Jackalope; from the Medicine Cards, "Porcupine:"

          Part jackrabbit, part antelope, this card is a version of the "Happy Squirrel." Ator writes, "A creature rarely seen, this jackrabbit wearing an antelope's horns embodies the fantastic, the unexpected, the surprising…." The last time I drew this card (over 3 years ago), I was taking life way too seriously and not laughing nearly enough. And now he's shown up again, giving me the same look my cat does when I don't want to get out of bed at 5 a.m. to dish up breakfast. Okay, okay... let me get my morning cup of coffee and I'll try to manage a smile.
          Porcupine, though loaded with barbs, is normally a gentle, non-aggressive creature. Only if threatened will it release its quills as a weapon. But what happens if I'm feeling prickly, as if I'm walking around with no skin on? I won't make any charitable assumptions about anything said to me; instead I'll be shouting "Man the torpedoes and prepare to fire!" Porcupine combined with Jackalope reminds me that humor can often be a much better response. And there's no mess to clean up later.

Cold, Dark Night

From the Prairie Tarot, the Five of Coins; from the Medicine Cards, "Deer:"

          My idea of hell is not intense temperatures, fire and brimstone; it's a place where it is damp and the weather is freezing. Looking at this card, I wonder what in the world would make someone leave their warm shelter and slog through deep snow in the dead of night. Did a horse or livestock animal disappear that they depend on? Neither person has a torch to light their way, but a fire in their cabin burns brightly and acts as a beacon.
          Deer, according to Sams and Carson, represent gentleness. What a welcome message to receive when one is suffering physically or financially. I can get frustrated with my body when it gets sick or becomes injured, even though it serves me quite well for most of the 365 days of each year. A speaker I was listening to the other day told us to raise our hands and clench our fists. Then she said, "Now notice your breath." Like everyone else, I was holding my breath as tightly as my fist. Tough times come and go; if I apply gentleness, I won't add to stress to the problem. That is the beacon that shines its light in the cold, dark night.

Double-edged Swords

From the Prairie Tarot, the Eight of Swords; from the Medicine Cards, "Bat:"

          Thoughts are like double-edged swords; they can help us or hinder us. The Eight of Swords reminds me of a term I heard recently from psychotherapist Dr. Russ Harris, a proponent of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT). Cognitive fusion refers to becoming so entangled in our thoughts, we can no longer clearly see reality. Our thoughts, assumptions and beliefs become like a blindfold, and so our decisions and actions are based on our internal experience rather than what is actually going on in the world. And from this young woman's cognitively fused point of view, she's out of options.
          Sams and Carson associate Bat with rebirth and the death of old patterns and habits. Nothing much can grow in the soil unless it is cleared of old stumps and large rocks (like habitual thoughts). How do I get past such cognitive fusion when it feels so real? Harris suggests we put some objective distance between ourselves and our thoughts. Instead of saying, "I'm so worthless," the woman could defuse a bit by saying, "I'm having a thought about feeling worthless." Thoughts and reality get a bit of separation between them, leaving room for a crack of light to filter through. Hopefully, she'll eventually be able to remove that mental blindfold and discover there are more options available than she originally assumed.

It's Hell Being Average

This week I'll be using the Prairie Tarot, created and self-published by Robin Ator. Paired with it will be the Medicine Cards, a deck and book set published by St. Martin's Press and created by David Carson and Jamie Sams. Today's cards are the Eight of Cups and "Moose:"

If you are going through hell, keep going. 

― Winston S. Churchill

          I can't imagine packing up all my belongings, pets and people into a covered wagon, and then traveling many miles into remote lands. Those pioneers had courage, which is exactly what the Eight of Cups is asking of me. When I'm miserable and feel useless, why stay in this place? Probably because the hell I'm in feels safer than the unknown of change, but as Churchill states, it's not a place I should want to stay. There's undiscovered territory waiting to be explored.

          Carson and Sams have assigned "self-esteem" to describe the message of Moose. After reading several studies by Kristen Neff, I think I would change it to self-compassion instead. Self-esteem requires a constant evaluation and comparison of myself with others. To be positive, it requires me to be special or above-average. On the other hand, self-compassion (according to Neff) has three main components:

(a) self-kindness—being kind and understanding toward oneself in instances of pain or failure rather than being harshly self-critical

(b) common humanity—perceiving one's experiences as part of the larger human experience rather than seeing them as separating and isolating

(c) mindfulness—holding painful thoughts and feelings in balanced awareness rather than over-identifying with them. 

Self-compassion offers the benefits of self-esteem without the downsides. And I think it would give me the courage to pack my wagon and the resilience to keep going until I find what I'm looking for.

Voila!

From the Tarot of the Master, the Magician; from the Geomancy Cards, "Albus:"

          Vacchetta's Magician is not the RWS kind with four suits displayed on the table but a public entertainer. With those cones and balls, I'd surmise his game involves sleight-of-hand to impress his viewers. The keyword given for this card is "ability" and suggests he's good at his craft. He can make things seem to appear and disappear at will. Yet is he simply a performer or a con man? The geomancy figure Albus (white) may be a nod to the latter. It represents purity and clarity and is associated with the planet Mercury (communication). Leading someone toward a false assumption is incredibly easy. I can omit vital information and skew the facts by reporting only what is positive. Outright lying is avoided, but manipulation still happens. "This vitamin supplement will give you amazing energy (especially when your stomach cramps and you must find a bathroom immediately). And it's yours for the amazing low price of $5 (though with your credit card information, we'll be charging you every month for a new bottle, whether you want it or not)." Speaking with integrity and listening with a discerning ear are on today's agenda.

Flying Hourglass

From the Tarot of the Master, the King of Coins; from the Geomancy Cards, "Caput Draconis:"

           I bet this King of Coins has callouses on his hands. Instead of sitting on a comfy throne, he is busy engraving his own coins. You would think he would want a picture of himself on them, but looking at the wall, it appears his coins are decorated with a winged hourglass. If he were a young man, I would guess his message was "time is money;" yet his age makes me believe it is a reminder that "time flies." Don't waste a precious moment of it, he would tell me, embrace even those parts that seem hard and challenging. This material world is meant to be engaged with fully.

Outside

On the eve of autumn

I find myself standing still,

Drinking in the smell of tea olives in bloom.

Their heady fragrance makes me smile,

And I suddenly become aware

Of the many gifts of Creation

That lighten my heart.

          Caput Draconis (head of the dragon) is associated with doorways of opportunity. This figure is connected with the North Node, where the path of the Moon meets the path of the Sun and eclipses occur. Like an eclipse, it is a moment that is brief; the window of time will eventually close and I'll lose my chance. Self-absorption is like wearing a bag over my head. Again the King reminds me: pay attention, use your senses and drink in the beauty and wonder while you can. 

No Help at Hand

From the Tarot of the Master, the Hanged Man; from the Geomancy Cards, "Amissio:"

          The keyword for this Hanged Man is "agony," and I can't think of anything more agonizing than finding you have no control over a distressing situation. With the river below, I'm theorizing that he has been hung from the support of a bridge. There is some area in his life where he would like to move from one place to another, but he's been stymied; his hands and feet are tied. There is nothing to do but wait (and hopefully see things from a new perspective other than "Why me?").
          The mice eating the fruit represent Amissio, or loss. This geomancy figure is connected with Venus, normally associated with love, beauty and pleasure. But Venus also includes tenderness and vulnerability. There's no way to love and care deeply without exposing my heart. And when I suffer a loss, there will be pain. Like the Hanged Man's predicament, there's no quick fix, pill or potion that will instantly cure my hurting heart. Time will help, but only if I realize I'm not alone in grieving such a loss.

Peep Priorities

From the Tarot of the Master, the Ten of Cups; from the Geomancy Cards, "Rubeus:"

          The keyword for this Cups card is an odd one compared to the RWS - order. Such a word feels like there is a hierarchy of relationship or peep priorities. My guess is the big cup symbolizes my immediate family, while the other shelves represent other relationships: my intimate circle of friends,  extended family along with other friends, and acquaintances. What makes their order shift from one shelf to another? Rubeus (red) suggests a fiery passion; I tend to be closer to folks who are excited and enthusiastic about common interests, hobbies and goals. Odds are if we don't have any commonalities (anything to talk about other than the weather), that relationship will sit on a dusty shelf. Yet Rubeus is connected to the planet Mars, and so it brings a warning with it. Relationships can be very fragile things. I need to be careful I don't break any because we don't see eye to eye on a certain topic. Rubeus would encourage me to use its energy for the courage to explore and learn from such relationships instead of dismissing them outright.

An Inside Job

From the Tarot of the Master, the High Priestess; from the Geomancy Cards, "Fortuna Major:"

          How interesting to see La Papessa show up with Fortuna Major after having drawn the Hierophant and Fortuna Minor yesterday. The book of the High Priestess and her keyword "knowledge" make me think of the practice of Lectio Divina (divine reading) that includes reading following by reflection and contemplation. Resting with what one has learned and letting it settle and take root seems quite appropriate for her. Instead of analyzing and debating, intuition and insight take over once given the quiet space to do so. The wisdom I find in this still place will create an inner strength; it provides the stability found in Fortuna Major that doesn't rely on external events. I don't have to actively seek it, I only need to pay attention and accept it. It's going to be an inside job.

 Albert Einstein called the intuitive or metaphoric mind a sacred gift. He added that the rational mind was a faithful servant. It is paradoxical that in the context of modern life we have begun to worship the servant and defile the divine. ~ Bob Samples

Just Like the Seasons

From the Tarot of the Master, the Hierophant; from the Geomancy Cards, "Fortuna Minor:"

          I'm not a fan of the Hierophant, but it helps to think of him as a teacher rather than an oppressive, religious leader. The keyword assigned to this card is "faith," another term that makes me uncomfortable. I find it impossible to believe in a deity who responds to the prayers of a athlete asking for a victory and not the prayers of a starving child in an impoverished country. Love shouldn't be based on a lottery, in my opinion. Though there may be a Power that moves through all creation, I personally don't believe it interferes in the natural course of things.
          Fortuna Minor (lesser fortune) is connected to the Sun, just like Fortuna Major (greater fortune). I struggled with  the difference between the two, trying to understand what makes one greater and one lesser. It finally dawned on me that Fortuna Minor is connected to external change which sets up fortunate events, while the Fortuna Major is connected with an internal strength that doesn't depend on outer circumstances for success. Perhaps that is the Hierophant's message in the Fortuna Minor: be patient because change will come, just as summer moves into autumn.

Hope is important because it can make the present moment less difficult to bear. If we believe that tomorrow will be better, we can bear a hardship today.

~ Thich Nhat Hanh

As the Tray Turns

This week I'll be using the Tarot of the Master, a recolored version of Giovanni Vacchetta's original deck published by Lo Scarabeo. Paired with it will be the Geomancy Cards, a digital deck I created for myself. Today's draws are the Six of Chalices and "Puella:"

          The little tiered table the cups sit on remind me of a Lazy Susan, a revolving server tray. The keyword "memory" has been assigned to this card, and reminds me that I have every experience of my life tucked away somewhere inside my gray matter. As the tray turns, which cup will I choose to sip from? From the Geomancy Cards was chosen "Puella" (girl), a figure that suggests happiness and peace. It is connected to Venus, which further adds pleasure, beauty and tenderness to its meaning. Unfortunately I have plenty of memories that have nothing to do with any of these words, so Puella cautions me to be careful of the chalice I choose. Dwelling on a memory of fear can lead to neurotic worry; a flashback to anger can produce a simmering resentment. I have the power to guide my mind to more beneficial places, to thoughts that can help open my heart and mind rather than close them. It seems a shame not to use those reins.

Dreaming Alone

From the Tarot of the Absurd, the Nine of Coins; from the Post-Psychedelic Cyberpunk Deck, "Dream:"

          This woman seems to have created a bower from a tree - a shady garden retreat just for herself. One of my theories about the Nine of Coins is that the woman is single not only to learn how to be independent and self-sufficient on her own, but so she can learn to enjoy her own company as well. Even if I have the resources to accumulate more and more stuff, none of it is going to make me feel secure or happy if I'm not content with myself. There aren't enough distractions in the world to create that reality. Solitude can give me the time to pay attention to my own dreams which will reflect what I need to work on personally and out in the world. No way I'm going to be able to do that if I'm constantly surrounded by a crowd.

Random Luck?

From the Tarot of the Absurd, the Six of Sticks (Wands); from the Post-Psychedelic Cyberpunk Deck, the "Random Number Generator:"

          These athletic-looking fellows have managed to reach a tall branch by working together, one providing a boost for the other. It reminds me of trying to hang a wind chime in a sycamore tree the other day. Being vertically challenged, there was no way I could have reached even the lowest limb without assistance. The Random Number Generator questions whether success (as suggested by the Six of Sticks) is random or planned. Are some folks just lucky, or do we make our own luck? I surely had no choice over my genetics, where I was born or how I was raised. Those things might be considered good or bad fortune. But other responsibilities land squarely in my lap. Do I ask for help when I need it? (And do I thank those who offer aid?) Do I take advantage of opportunities that present themselves? Do I put my shoulder to the wheel or expect someone else to do the hard work? I figure some is pure random luck, and some success is self-made.

No Swimming Allowed

From the Tarot of the Absurd, the King of Coins; from the Post-Psychedelic Cyberpunk Deck, "The Endless Bridge:"

          This King has a strand of beads in one hand while a coin floats above the other. Though he has his eyes closed, I would bet he's not using the beads as a mala but as some form of abacus. The King is keeping an account of the many people, places and things for which he's responsible. Though he's an investment and financial wizard, he's well aware that what is not maintained or cared for can slip through his fingers.
          The Endless Bridge represents a safe passage over turbulent chaos. Like his calm and composed brother (the King of Cups), it's suggested by this card to stay out of the murky, emotional waters that might cause unwise decisions and actions. I can think of two possibilities that might fit this warning. The first is the approaching holidays, and the desire to buy gifts for those I care about (an easy way for me to go over my budget if I'm not mindful). The second has to do with a thunderstorm we had the day before yesterday; it produced a bolt of lightning that ran into our house. We are just now discovering items (TV, computer) it zapped. The wise choice would to contact our insurance agent, fill out the papers and let them pay for new things rather than rushing out to buy them ourselves. "Stay on the bridge and out of the water" sounds like a good mantra for today.

Changeable Outcomes

From the Tarot of the Absurd, the Eight of Sticks (Wands); from the Post-Psychedelic Cyberpunk Deck, "The Cat:"

          The Eight of Wands is appropriate for me today. I've got my yearly mammogram at 8:30 this morning; after lunch I'll be chairing the book club, followed by a meeting with a friend (much fun and merriment) and then will be closing the day with another meeting with a woman I mentor. A full day that will keep me hopping. Yet Schrödinger's Cat shows up - a paradox based in quantum physics. The idea is that several states can exist simultaneously as long as we don't look to check. Checking (or measurement) is what limits it to a single possibility. What does this have to do with my hurdle jumpers? I see them (and me) running toward a goal that is set. Yet what if the course we're running gets changed suddenly from a straight path to a curvy, longer road? What if the hurdles get higher? I'm the type that likes to stick to the structure of schedules to get things done, but these two cards suggest I better keep an open mind and be willing to be flexible.

Innovative Solutions

From the Tarot of the Absurd, the Queen of Sticks (Wands); from the Post-Psychedelic Cyberpunk Deck, "The Riddle:"

          If this Queen is made from the sugar and spice recipe of the rhyme, I'm guessing the cook went very heavy on the spice. She exudes fun and energy; her body position says she is fully confident being herself. I have no doubt the gift of Amy Vanderbilt’s New Complete Book of Etiquette went straight into her trash can. She's as independent (and flexible) as her cat, and she's used to getting what she wants with her charismatic charm.
          The busyness of The Riddle makes my eyeballs ache, yet beneath all the detail is a spiral of keyholes. Falkov says this card represents a puzzle, but not one that can be solved in the usual way. It will require one to "think around corners and outside the box." Forget the charm, Queen; you're going to need an innovative solution to get what you want. Her feline companion makes me think of the phrase "curious as a cat." Perhaps that will be the hook that reels in the fish - a mystery that can't be resisted.

A Closer Inspection

From the Tarot of the Absurd, Temperance; from the Post-Psychedelic Cyberpunk Deck, "Matrioshka:"

          These angels initially appeared to be mirror images, but upon closer inspection, I see the hair, wings, body shape and foot position are different. It is human nature to look for differences instead of commonalities, but this card suggests doing the opposite. Separation becomes combination; all or nothing becomes compromise. Rather than choosing one thing over another, a blend of the two creates something wonderful and beneficial.
          The Russian nesting dolls suggest looking much deeper than the surface to uncover the truth. I've never failed to be amazed by the layers underneath the normal exteriors of humans. Taking the time to get to know someone more than superficially makes it impossible to put them in a neatly labeled box. I was listening to a talk by Tara Brach the other day, and she had her listeners imagine coming across a cowering dog hiding among shrubbery. We talk softly to it and reach out to pet it, but the dog suddenly snaps and snarls. Immediately we might judge the dog for its behavior. But then we notice one of its legs is caught in a trap, and our hearts open with compassion because we now understand its response. The story was a good reminder not to rush to a verdict about someone because of their words or actions. You never know what inner injury lies behind outward behavior.

Finger-Waggers

This week I'll be using the Tarot of the Absurd, created and self-published by Jessica Shanahan. Along with it, I'll be using the Post-Psychedelic Cyberpunk Deck, created and self-published by Masha Falkov. Today's draws are the Seven of Sticks (Wands) and "The Door:"

          Don't you just hate it when people stick their fingers in your face and try to shame and intimidate you? That's what I see with Shanahan's illustration. She writes that this card is about "a struggle after initial satisfaction" and suggests holding one's ground with determination and courage. There will always be folks who disagree with how and why I do things. As long as I know my motives are honorable, I shouldn't fear the finger-waggers. Yet Falkov's Door means the ability to look at things in a different way. Perhaps some of those people with stick hands have some helpful wisdom to share, if I can keep an open mind. No need to abandon ship, but I could try out a new oar.

Is it Useful?

From the PetraK Tarot, the Eight of Wands; from the Astrodice, "Mercury/Taurus/2nd House:"

          This Eight of Wands reminds me of the red hot poker plants my neighbor grows in his yard. Yet if he were to place a concrete slab over the ground they spring from each year, the plant would wither and die. Likewise, this card suggests a need for freedom in speaking, thinking and acting in order for progress to be made. If given free rein, solutions will be found and challenges met in a swift manner. Sounds simple, right? But the roll of the Astrodice shows the eloquent, quick-thinking Mercury has combined with the conservative, stability-seeking Taurus in the 2nd House (resources). Taurus is the concrete over Mercury, obsessively fact-checking and testing every little detail before doing anything. In the book I'm currently reading (10% Happier), Harris questions his mindfulness teacher Joseph Goldstein who encourages him not to think and worry so much. Harris protests that his job and life require him to plan and worry if he wants to be successful. But Goldstein suggests that after Harris runs through the same scenario in his head for the seventeenth time to question if such thinking is useful. Useful, no. Neurotic, yes.

Self-Defeat

From the PetraK Tarot, the Five of Swords; from the Astrodice, "Pluto/Sagittarius/9th House:"

          In the PetraK painting, the central sword is pinned down at the hilt while two other swords prevent any forward or backward motion. This is defeatist thinking at its worst; something negative happens, then suddenly all opportunities are avoided because of a fear of failure or loss. I know exactly why I drew this card today - I'm leading the meditation group tonight. Lately for every meditation I do, there is always someone who doesn't like it. If I do a listening meditation with ocean waves, someone tells me they prefer a guided meditation to keep their thoughts on track. Then when I do, someone else tells me there was too much talking. They request relaxing music with no words, but the music doesn't suit some folks (none of whom want silence only). It has been frustrating, and I do feel like giving up.
          The roll of the dice pairs the transforming change of Pluto with the good-humored honesty of Sagittarius. The 9th House implies a search for meaning, which fits well with my feelings of frustration. Yet the Planet and Sign suggest if I want things to be different, it's going to require me to explain how I feel. But I must be careful that I don't lash out in anger ("If you don't like it, then maybe you should do it!") or try to lay a guilt trip on anyone. Perhaps the biggest change should be with me - I need to stop taking things so personally.

But It's Practical

From the PetraK Tarot, the Prince of Disks (Knight of Pentacles); from the Astrodice, "Sun/Pisces/2nd House:"

          Köck-Reiter explains this painting as the Prince's large disk surrenders to gravity. Representing the airy part of Earth, his inventive ideas always become grounded in practical creations. If it's not useful, he sees little reason to spend his time on it. With the roll of the Astrodice tossed in, the power and vitality of the Sun meet the dreamy imagination of Pisces; the 2nd House includes one's resources. Rarely have I bought anything only because it was useful. Aesthetics matter to me. It is not enough to have a bed to sleep in; I prefer a bed that looks inviting and comfy. Having a house is helpful for shelter, but what I put in it and on the walls makes if feel like home. Beauty and that which enlivens my senses add so much more to the practicality of the Prince.

Active and Receptive

From the PetraK Tarot, the Ace of Wands; from the Astrodice, "Moon/Cancer/9th House:"

          A friend once sent me a ruby in the rough; though lovely, most people probably wouldn't give it more than a glance in its raw, unpolished state. Likewise, the burning wand suggests I have an untapped supply of energy and enthusiasm at hand. Though unrefined, my will can shape it and put it to good use. It can provide me with the passion and motivation I'll need to get things done. Yet the roll of the Astrodice balances out this fiery, masculine energy with a feminine approach. The intuitive and receptive Moon links up with the sensitive and nurturing sign of Cancer. Combining such opposites can be quite the tightrope act. The "bulldozer" side of me likes to get things done, but age is teaching me that an encouraging nudge is often better than a hard shove. Slow, mindful movement with my intuitive antennae extended should lead the way, to make sure no one gets run over. The 9th House suggests all of this has to do with finding meaning through travel, study or spiritual searching.