Weight of Responsibility

From the Tarot of the Crone, Justice; from Transforming Dragons, Nervoc:

While you live you walk my Web.

          Even Nature seems to prefer balance. An orb weaver begins its web with two strands, a tight one and a loose one below it. Once the framing and radial lines are attached, it adds two spirals, a non-sticky one that travels outward and a sticky one that moves inward. The kabbalist's Tree of Life also shows this preference; it contains three pillars - Mercy and Severity on the outer sides and Mildness in the middle. Likewise, Justice is a push to make adjustments to bring things from an extreme point to a more centered harmony. John Michael Greer calls this a "dance of constant adjustment" and explains it "is not found by going to one extreme or the other or by remaining fixed at a static point; it is created by self-correcting movements to either side of a midpoint." But first we have to realize what that midpoint is.

          Nervoc is a dragon personification of imprudence and carelessness. His motto is "Responsibility is a heavy weight on the back of fools." This is the guy who ignores all warnings, does something stupid (he'd call it exciting), then wants to sue when things go awry. But as Greer warns, "Deliberately push a balanced system one way, and you will make it swing back the other way with redoubled force." Rights and privileges require responsibilities, and freedom demands some kind of sacrifice; it's as simple as that.

Fluff vs. Fundamental

From the Tarot of the Crone, the Shadow of Disks (King of Pentacles); from Transforming Dragons, Spedonco:

What is essential? How can I persevere?

          Most Kings of the physical realm of tarot are portrayed as lovers of comfort, beauty and affluence. Lorenzi-Prince suggests the King of Disks is someone who knows the difference between fluff and what is fundamental. In this bare-bones land of sand and stone, there is nevertheless life in the spider and ant. I think all of us find ourselves wandering in such a place at some time in our lives. Can we truly appreciate our comforts and abundance if we don't know how to be content with simplicity? Thoreau wrote, "We are happy in proportion to the things we can do without."

          Spedonco is the dragon of fear; his bug-eyed look is due to the adrenaline of the fight or flight response. He is the other extreme of blind optimism, anticipating only dire circumstances and outcomes. Yet his energy is wasted on such predictions; instead of dealing with what's in front of him as best he can, he's running around screaming about his vision of a dreadful future. I think the King would tell him to slow down and become aware of the resources around him. And above all, keep it simple. 

The Root of the Problem

From the Tarot of the Crone, the Devil; from Transforming Dragons, Duveros:

 I am the Fear that binds you

the Hate that eats you

the Pain that never lets go

          Some people feel as if they walk around with no skin on in a realm of broken glass and razor blades. They often discover certain behaviors or substances can briefly alter their mood and give them a temporary respite. Such reactive behavior easily becomes a compulsive habit; the antidote quickly becomes the poison.  A social drinker imbibes to feel good; the alcoholic drinks not to feel at all. Originally there is the delusion that one is somehow getting rid of those "bad" parts of oneself, just as the monster eats her own arms in the illustration. But what isn't noticed often until too late is that there is a wider set of teeth; she is about to be fully consumed.  

          The booklet says Duveros is a dragon who "pays attention only to himself no matter what the circumstance or situation." He's the type of guy who, when he learns his friend's father died, can only think about is how this will interfere with their upcoming golf game. Interestingly, here's a line from AA's text: "Selfishness - self-centeredness! That, we think, is the root of our troubles." I would go a step further and say it is also the root of most problems of humanity. Driven by fear, hate and pain, we tend to look out for number one. But stepping out of a self-absorbed orbit and looking at the big picture can quickly show us how destructive this approach can be. We invariably find that we ourselves are the ones who have set fire to the house we're standing in.                

Emotionalism

This week I'll be using the Tarot of the Crone, a book and deck set created and self-published by Ellen Lorenzi-Prince. I'll be pairing it with Transforming Dragons, a set created by Sonia Cafe and published by Weiser. Today's cards are the Ten of Cups and Esberfonc:

          It was hard not to think of Coldplay's song, Sky Full of Stars, when I saw this card. Lorenzi-Prince writes that the Ten of Cups is about the power of emotion "to overwhelm your body with sensation, your mind with vision or delusion, and your soul with an epiphany beyond tongue to tell." This description sounds like the experience of mystics, which tends to be more feeling than intellect. In this state of being swept up by emotion, the usual separate sense of self falls away. The revelations or insights a person may have is usually difficult for him or her to fit into a box of words. The kicker is it (at least its natural, non-drug-induced form) comes out of the blue, like an unexpected gift.
          Esberfonc is emotionalism personified in dragon form. I often see this in people in recovery, whose addiction previously gave them the highest of highs. Without chemicals life seems dull and flat, so they seek out turbulent relationships and create drama for excitement. Mole hills become mountains in order to maintain the feeling of chaos. It makes me think of a spoiled child at his birthday party. When the gifts run out, he screams and cries for more. This synthetic kind of joy isn't real (and isn't really happiness either). True joy appears when the heart is open and reaching out with love, not when grasping selfishly.

Natural Talent

From the Hezicos Tarot, the Eight of Coins; from the Way of the Horse, Dharma's Reflection:

          Griffin suggests the meaning of this card is an encouragement to "explore your natural talents." Now when I think of a person with natural talents, I imagine someone who learns more quickly and makes progress at a rapid pace. Yet research published in the British Journal of Psychology found some surprising results in a study of music students. The more accomplished musicians did not learn quicker than anyone else. In fact only one thing predicted how proficient the students were - how much they practiced. Maybe we should redefine natural talent as how much we enjoy doing something. Doing what we love does makes us more readily embrace the study and training needed to learn the skills.
          In this image of one horse reflected in another's eye, Kohanov writes, "looking honestly at how we respond in relationship provides a deeper glimpse of who we are than any mirror... if we simply become curious about how we react in certain situations, and why, we quite naturally begin to change those patterns." Applying this to learning a new skill set, I can see how comparing myself to others leads me to alternate between blame and shame. I may excuse my lack of discipline by saying I don't have time, or I may sing an "I'm not worthy" chant. Neither is conducive to helping me learn more or increase my proficiency. What I do need to do is practice.

Group Dynamics

From the Hezicos Tarot, the Three of Cups; from the Way of the Horse, Boundary Dance:

          These three wee lasses all dressed alike remind me of a younger version of the Red Hat Society. With a cake that resembles the Leaning Tower of Pisa, I'm guessing they're at the seashore for a celebration instead of just a vacation. Being a tad on the introverted side, I'm not much of a party planner, but I have a couple of friends who need no excuse to host a get-together. I've met some delightful people at these gatherings that I probably would've never gotten to know otherwise, and so it's been good for me. I'm also a part of several "tribes" - small groups of people with similar interests and purposes. I imagine my life would be very dull without such a variety of people to associate with.
          Boundary Dance shows two horses beginning the process of defining and respecting boundaries. Any group (even those brought together by a common interest) will be a mix of opinions about topics from politics and religion to how to raise a child or grow a vegetable garden. When ideas clash it's easy to be offended, especially if someone isn't being respectful. Frustration can lead to anger, and anger to rage. If I can pay attention to another instead of just flapping my gums, I can sense discomfort rising and realize I've crossed a line. I can respectfully back up and apologize. But if someone invades my personal boundaries, I should speak up with kindness and let them know too. The tricky part in either case is to not let my heart disconnect from the person. Society trains us well in having our rights heard, but it fails to teach us how to do it responsibly and compassionately.

Bonfire of Grief

From the Hezicos Tarot, Death; from the Way of the Horse, Bonfire:

What delight is there in seeing the bleached bones,

Like gourds thrown away,

Dried and scattered in the autumn sun?

~ Dhammapada

          I can't even remember when I first pondered my own death; I imagine it was the death of a pet as a child that first spurred the thoughts. Now as I age, I search the obituaries for the names of friends or colleagues. I watch my mother-in-law, who is encased in a 95 year old body in which dementia is rapidly taking control. She is miserable, yet even she fights to continue to live. I've been trying to work with small endings lately, such as when something breaks or wears out, or when a friend moves or stops being interested in our relationship. These have become my "death" practices - to learn how to embrace and accept these lessons in impermanence. Sogyal Rinpoche wrote, "Death is like a mirror in which the true meaning of life is reflected." His words remind me that how I care for the people and things in my life matter, even if they are all like library books which must be returned some day. 

          The Bonfire card reminds me of the literal definition of nirvana - to extinguish. It is a Buddhist term that describes freedom from what binds us. The card itself suggests a release of tremendous energy that burns through any blocks to a wider perspective. Resistance just creates a bigger fuel source; it burns fiercely (and painfully) until we release what we grip so tightly. What is it I must let go of? I think it is the pain I see my husband and sister-in-law experience, as they deal with the slow process of the death of their mother. I can't protect them from it, and trying to do so may only exacerbate their grief. Better to let the bonfire of mourning cleanse them instead and support them through it.