Writing has been hard for me this week.
There are no words screaming to be put on the page. I’m not sure where my head is at, but I know it’s a little out in left field the past few days. I’ll blame the full moon.
ANYWAYS, that being said, I stole today’s newsletter content from my blog. I haven’t written much over there lately, but it was my container for processing a lot of my grief when it was super, super fresh.
I wrote this at the end of September.
I always envied the way my mom shuffled playing cards.
We weren’t the “family game night” type so it was a skill I didn’t routinely witness, but every time I did it floored me.
The cards just slid through her hands and intermingled with each other effortlessly, like butter. I was mesmerized every time.
I hope I told her that.
There’s always been a part of me that has been interested in “non-traditional” spiritual practices.
However, as a former Catholic school girl whose previous modus operandi was to fly under the radar…it was a slow build. My thirties now have me running around smudging my house, burning paper in the front yard under the light of a full moon and worshipping all sorts of “false idols”.
When my mom received her ALS diagnosis last fall I was shook to the core. Like many do when faced with the incomprehensible— I turned to something larger than myself.
I drove to the store and bought my first deck of tarot cards.
My deck has been within reach for almost a year now.
On a few occasions my mom and I pulled cards together. It was my desperate attempt to give her some comfort as I watched her confront her hastily arriving death.
My practice looks mostly like pulling a card, soaking in the image, reading a bit from
’s Tarot for Change, journaling and...shuffling, shuffling, shuffling.Every time my hands and fingers attempt to mix up the cards, I’m reminded of my mom’s ability to do so effortlessly. I wonder how many hours it took to perfect her skill.
Recently, it’s gotten easier for me…the shuffling that is. The cards explode onto the floor with less frequency and their ends meet with less resistance.
However, the biggest take away of my shuffling journey so far has been this:
When I am holding onto the cards too tightly, or my mind somewhere else, my shuffle fails.
Isn’t that our quest in life? Finding the balance between holding on too tightly and letting go.
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That was a lovely message about holding on too tightly or letting go. Thank you for sharing :)
This resonates today