No So-So Love

From the Mythic Tarot, the Ten of Cups; from the Symbolon, the 'Phoenix:'

          Seeing Psyche in her divine form next to her husband Eros made "Stand By Your Man" start playing in my head. She met challenge after challenge to stay together with Eros. Unlike Tammy Wynette, Psyche's husband wasn't the problem - it was her mother-in-law Aphrodite that caused her grief. The Ten of Cups seems like winning the relationship lottery, but most people never see the work, love, and forgiveness involved behind closed doors. Cutting and running is the easy option when our fairy tale doesn't work out, but it won't help grow a time-tested relationship. The Phoenix is a great symbol of the ups and downs of being in a committed partnership or friendship. There are times when we feel burnt to ashes by the vicissitudes of life, but if our partner or friend is a keeper, he or she can gather and hold that ash tenderly until we can rise again.

There isn’t anything in this world but mad love. Not in this world. No tame love, calm love, mild love, no so-so love. And of course, no reasonable love. Also, there are a hundred paths through the world that are easier than loving. But, who wants easier? We dream of love, we moon about it, thinking of Romeo and Juliet, or Tristan, or the lost queen rushing away over the Irish sea, all doom and splendor. Today, on the beach, an old man was sitting in the sun. I called out to him, and he turned. His face was like an empty pot. I remember his tall, pale wife; she died long ago. I remember his daughter-in-law. When she died, hard, and too young, he wept in the streets. He picked up pieces of wood, and stones, and anything else that was there, and threw them at the sea. Oh, how he loved his wife. Oh, how he loved young Barbara. I stood in front of him, not expecting any answer yet not wanting to pass without some greeting. But his face had gone back to whatever he was dreaming. Something touched me lightly, like a knife-blade. I felt I was bleeding, though just a little, a hint. Inside I flared hot, then cold. I thought of you. Whom I love madly.

—Mary Oliver,  White Pine