Acknowledging Grief

A few weeks ago I found myself "on edge" quite a bit. I would become angry - or at least irritable - with great frequency, and even small incongruities or comments would set me off. I didn't feel comfortable in my own skin, and I sensed that something was "wrong" with me, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

One morning as I sipped my coffee I decided to lay out a Celtic Cross for myself, and the center of the spread was the Page of Wands reversed, crossed by the 3 of Swords. I was a bit puzzled, but I knew that the Page was me. The first word that popped into my head about the relationship of this card to my own state of being was "petulant." Touchy, grumpy, testy, querulous, bad-tempered. Yep. Setting that aside, I then decided to pull another Celtic Cross for a loved one. In the position that represents the significant people in one's environment, I once again drew the Page of Wands reversed. Sigh. There I was again. And if I showed up here, then I knew that this important person was feeling the reverberations of my touchiness. I didn't want that.

So I decided to draw a solution card. What could help me right the energy of this reversed Page? I shuffled and cut the deck, and I drew the 5 of Cups. Hm! 3 of Swords, 5 of Cups. A common theme was forming related to grief, sadness, regret, mourning...... What did all of this have to do with my mood?

I set it on the back burner to percolate as I got ready for work. And then on my drive in it all hit me. This past year has been the most difficult and devastating of my entire life. I am still processing all of the changes and the associated emotions, which vary greatly, but are mostly quite painful. Over the summer my kids spent time up north with their grandparents and I was afforded a very unusual period of alone time. During that time I found that I'd be going about my days and weeks quite ordinarily, when seemingly out of the blue I was walloped by body-wracking waves of tearful grief. This would occur periodically, and each time I was surprised by the depth of hurt that would manifest. At the same time it was quite cathartic, and I always ended up feeling better. I became grateful for the space, the time alone, because I realized that if I were surrounded by the busy-ness of kids' schedules, and school requirements, in addition to everything else vying for my attention, I would likely have been too distracted for this outpouring of feeling.

On the ride to work, it all clicked into place. I realized that I was experiencing what would have been a crashing wave of grief, but with the constant flow of my external world (the kids had already come back, among many other things) I didn't have the quiet space to recognize it. Instead of sadness, it was showing up as anger. In that moment I started to cry, and it was like a release-valve immediately relieving the built-up pressure. I had a name for it; I understood what was happening to me, and why. I was deeply grateful for the way the cards had urged me toward that realization, and the reminder that I'm still working my way through a process that takes time and requires a special effort to ensure that I am taking care of myself.

Talking Past Each Other

Yesterday morning I pulled a morning draw from the Dreams of Gaia Tarot. The card was "Emotions/Intellect," which roughly corresponds to the Page of Cups in a more traditional deck. I've pulled this card a few times lately, and it always prods me toward the same end: speak your truth with kindness. Except there was more there this time - a deeper level of significance that connected to the current socio-political climate in the United States. I ended up composing this short paragraph:

A balance of heart and mind. Share your truth, and hold space for others to do the same (even if you don't agree with their perspective). Progress is restrained by compartmentalization, and impeded by "othering." It's particularly hard these days to listen, especially when we don't feel heard... but it has to start somewhere.

Indeed, it's challenging to be willing to listen to others who don't demonstrate that same willingness toward us. It's hard. Really hard. And yet how are we supposed to move forward as a nation if we can't find a way to overcome the divisiveness? 

Yesterday evening I witnessed yet another "discussion" on social media where a pretty honest and innocent question (by a New Zealander) about how it was possible for Trump to win if so many people seem not to like him, eventually led into the same sort of name-calling bitterness that is so common these days. There were some thoughtful, intelligent, calm, kind offerings, but at times those seemed to be drowned out by accusations and anger. It called to my mind the image from the 5 of Cups from the Deviant Moon Tarot:

A woman shouts angrily at a seated man, who plugs his ears as if enjoying his own blatant disregard for what she is saying. The three empty cups are symbolic of a lack of frith - the unity, togetherness, and joy represented by the 3 of Cups. Two cups stand patiently waiting to be remembered. The 2 of Cups is a card of love, harmony, healing, and meeting others half-way - the energy missing from most political conversations. The 5 of Cups is traditionally thought of as a card of regret, mourning, loss, sadness. It's not hard for me to imagine that this feeling is the root of what many people in our country are experiencing (no matter who they voted for), and underlies the impulse to shout, point fingers, and plug our ears to each other's voices. And while I believe that talking to each other is necessary, I'm starting to question the ability for us - as a nation - to ever arrive at any semblance of common ground or respectful inquiry. In the online discussion I viewed, I saw some individuals hotly refuting hard facts either without any evidence at all to support their perspectives, or, almost worse, citing sources that did not support their claims. It is almost mind-boggling, but it brings us back to the issue being discussed widely at present: if facts don't seem to matter, then what does? Where does that leave us? How does that help us to establish meaningful dialogue? 

At worst, anger, cynicism, and hurt seem to reduce our capacity and willingness to respectfully listen to each other. At best, some of these deep and fundamental issues become chasms that may not be easily fordable. What happens if we never manage to see eye-to-eye, or learn to hold rich, fruitful, meaningful, and considerate discussions about our points of disagreement? Then we must at a minimum act with kindness upon what our hearts and minds indicate is the right thing to do, and find a way to honor that in each other. Maybe that means that I volunteer at Planned Parenthood, and you support a Catholic adoption agency....and we still just might be able to sit down at the end of the day and share a cup of tea together. Maybe we can at least start with that. 

Dreaming of a Tarot Card

Two nights ago I dreamt about the 5 of Cups from the Wild Unknown Tarot. In my dream I saw a white horse with its head lowered. We were alone in a large, slightly greyed space. I knew that it was sad, though its expression seemed benign. And I also knew that this was the horse from the 5 of Cups. I thought to myself, "I don't think the horse in that card had tears in its eyes." At that moment, my dream horse began to cry. I wrapped my arms around its neck and held it to my chest to comfort it.

The next day I decided to pull that card out of the deck - I haven't read with the Wild Unknown in a while, and wanted to refresh myself on the details of the 5 of Cups. As I was flipping through, I saw the Chariot, which gave me pause - it is also a white horse, and the only other horse in the entire deck. The Chariot also happens to be a "card of the moment" for me, and after having just blogged about it a couple of days ago, the symbolism was far from lost on me.

Let the dark mountain shake to the thunder 

Where the wild horses trample the fern,

Let the deep vales re-echo and wonder, 

When, like an eddy, they circle and turn! 

Watch the lithe motion 

Run free as an ocean,

Never has man laid a hand on a head: 

Never a halter 

Has bid a step falter,

Never a crest bent down to be led!

-M. Gilmore

Guest Post: To Be Loved Is to Be Given Life

Today I'm featuring a guest post written by none other than my mother, Cecilia Skidmore: licensed counselor, grief and change expert, former radio host, and MBTI administrator (to say very little!). To read a bit more about her click here, and to view her blog click here.

******************************************************

"TO BE LOVED IS TO BE GIVEN LIFE" - those words were written years ago by the artist wife of my minister and he used them as a Christmas card the year following her death. To be loved is to be given life -odd words for a memorial for someone who has died. What does that mean? Given life...

In our society, in relatively recent times, we avoid mention of death. We left the armbands behind, left the wakes held at home behind, left the formal mourning periods behind. Death is a spectre, just like on Halloween, hovering in the shadows of our homes, our lives, our minds, and we use a great deal of energy trying to find a way to shut the door on those shadows and seal them off forever.
When our childrens' pets die, we buy another. The illusion is that life is replaceable, that pain can be erased in the blink of an eye with a new puppy. When our parents die, we keep our children home from the funeral. We keep our tears and pain inside, so that they (and we) won't have to experience that so uncomfortable emotion, despair. It feels so out of control and so intense that we fear we might frighten the children. So, while we can't replace Grandma with a new puppy, we can act as if it's ok that she died. We might even pretend she's "away" or "asleep," common euphemisms for the word "dead." We can not talk about her; we can fill the space she had in our lives and in our homes with other people or more work - or a new car. Or a new love. The hole is not only a physical one (she's not in that chair anymore) but a spiritual one and a psychological one- and we race around desperately trying to fill it with everything and anything except the few things we really need.

Golden Tarot - L. Dean

We need a light to shine on those dark spaces in our psyches where death lurks. We need to look death square in the face--and when we do, we find that death looks very familiar. It looks like us. It looks like our loves and our hopes, but also like our failures and lost dreams. It looks final, though - like we don't get another chance. Perhaps that scares us the most. And perhaps it should. We need to say and do important things now - not after they are no longer here.

We need education. Sit with someone who is dying, as I have done at Hospice. When you spend time with a dying person, you find they are Person first. Not a spectre. They live, often better than before. They find great pleasure in people, in children, in animals. They still find joy in reading, in smelling fresh cut grass, in watching the birds on a snow-covered pine. They are thoughtful and less concerned with things tangible - like money or possessions, except as a legacy they might be leaving a loved one. But they are very real, very human - very alive.

5 of Water - Gaian Tarot
Joanna Powell Colbert

We need to ponder what comes after death. (I firmly believe in reincarnation until someone I love dies - then the thought of them embarking on a new life when I've just arrived in Heaven seems so sad - so I revert to the safety of clouds and harps.) We need to read books, talk about it with friends, and weigh what we learn. A firm belief in something greater than ourselves, or a firm belief in the natural cycles of life and death on earth can be comforting.

We need to learn about grieving as well. It helps to have a belief about life beyond death - but usually that's not our biggest concern when a loved one dies. An incredible amount of the pain of grieving comes not from worry about where they are, but from the fact that they are not here with us. Grief can be an emotional, psychological and physical maelstrom. So much is unanticipated, unexpected. We experience a gnawing in our guts, a weariness in our bones, a breaking of our hearts. When my mother died, some thirty years ago, I wrote a poem:

"This morning when I woke up, I found my heart had been ripped from my body....What I want to know is... why am I still alive?"

We become forgetful, losing moments, hours, names, faces, appointments. We see things: the look of our beloved on a stranger in the hardware store - or visions that are so real, but impossible to explain.

We hear voices - or we are visited in our dreams.

We remember and remember and remember - with others, on paper, in our daydreams and our night dreams. We relive so many moments, trying to keep them alive and here with us. We are so afraid to forget.

Vision Quest Tarot

And people, other loving, fearful people try to push us forward, to get us (and themselves) away from the pain. So gradually we have our lost loved ones in our lives (so it doesn't hurt) and we gradually talk less about our beloved - so it doesn't hurt. But the hurt comes from a deep would and deep wounds take a long time to heal.

So we need to know about grieving and how long it will take. Hiding from the spectres of death and grieving leave us unprotected from the turmoil they bring. If we know, we can take care of our needs, learn to share our pain and not be overwhelmed. Grief happens all our lives, if not from death, then from divorce, or job loss, or moves, or aging. The grief experience is the same, and it carries compound interest from all the others before it. The more we know, the more we can help ourselves and our children.

At last we can take the time and energy to begin to understand who we are now - after.

When someone dies, they are transformed. Some faiths believe our souls go to a heaven of clouds and harps where we live happily ever after. Some believe literally that God's house has many mansions where we will all go,, and other that only they will receive everlasting life. Some believe in a seemingly endless cycle of life, learning, death and rebirth until we reach oneness with God. People who don't believe in a God or afterlife acknowledge that at least the body becomes part of the earth again, fertilizer, renewing other life.

The reality is, when someone dies, they are transformed - whatever you pay attention to.

Earthbound Oracle

But so are we - we who are left behind. The person we were when our beloved was alive changes - in sometimes very subtle, sometimes profound ways - always viscerally. So when the time for mourning and grieving has passed, when we awake to a new morning, free of the deep pain, we are newborn.

We are a fresh creation.

But we have not left our beloved behind. We have not forgotten. If death is like a shedding of our outer skin, a metamorphosis, grieving and healing from grief is like communion - an absorption into our living flesh, our changing psyche, our evolving spirit - of the essence of our beloved.

It's hard to understand - ask someone who has grieved. Those parts we thought were gone forever have now become part of us. And with that transplant comes a new human being - broken, but stronger at the broken places, as Hemingway said. Malleable, but firm, solid and real, but transcendent. All those cliches about dawn after darkness, spring following winter - are real, true.

They are true because love and grief are inextricably bound. We don't grieve what we never loved. We grieve only those things or people who have enriched our lives and given it meaning. When we love deeply, we grieve deeply. But we do not forget. And in our remembering we keep our loved one alive.

To be loved is to be given life.

***************************************************

Ashé

The Three of Cups Saves the Day

This has been one rough week so far! When I drew Death for my weekly card I suspected that it would relate to the adjustments here at home now that Jorge is in Sweden. Quite right. In the Lenormand system, Death's counterpart appears as the Coffin, and can represent illnesses and cancellations. I've had quite a bit of those as well this week. Now that Gabriel has started at his daycare center (which he really likes, for the most part) he's exposed to all those other adorable-and-germy children, so as is wont to occur, he's come down with a nasty cold. I didn't need the cards to predict that for me! And his sickness has led me to cancel some classes and rearrange my schedule so that I can be home with him, dumping elderberry and lemon balm tea down his gullet on the hour.

I was hoping to return to my normal schedule today, and was hopeful that Gabriel would feel better enough to return to his center. Being rather anxious about it, last night I decided to throw some cards about what I might expect for today. I first asked how Gabriel would do at school, and I pulled the 5 of Cups and the Hermit reversed. Sigh. That blurted out to me: he's going to be really sad, and he'll feel abandoned. Gah.

5 of Cups, DruidCraft Tarot
Will Worthington

Next I pulled a card about how things would go at work, and I pulled the 3 of Cups. Ah hah. I would have some friendly support from my colleagues. I started to wonder if I might even be able to find someone to sub for me for today, but then I realized that it was already 8:00pm, and knew it was a bit late to be scrambling around trying to find help. I would try to go to work, and I'd plan to bring Gabriel to his center the next morning.

After a full day of herbal remedies and rest he had a much better night last night, but he's still healing. He slept so long that I had to wake him up ten minutes before we needed to leave so that I could at least get him dressed and comb his hair before heading out the door. I knew that was a potential recipe for disaster; waking up a sick child and hurrying them out the door into the bright, wide world is not a kind way to start the day! But he did okay. He even brushed his teeth and consented to taking a little heart-shaped homeopathic pill to help with his congestion. It was as we were getting our shoes on that things started to go awry. He said, "I don't want to go to school, I want to stay home!" He refused to carry his lunchbox. He enjoys school quite a bit, so I knew that if he was feeling a preference for home, he really needed the comfort and security. But what could I do? I had no plan B. So we got in the car and drove to his center and as we sat in the parking lot the tears started to roll. He was just so sad. I saw the 5 of Cups and Hermit reversed floating through my mind, and as I watched those pitiful teardrops fall, I made a split second decision to take him to work with me. What the heck??? I didn't know. I didn't know what I'd do with him while I was teaching, I just knew that I couldn't force him to stay at his school in that state. So off we went. We dropped Lourdes at her school, and headed to the university.

DruidCraft Tarot - W. Worthington

On the way I was thinking about that 3 of Cups. I decided to call my colleague, Rose, and let her know what was going on. I explained the fiasco and she listened with a sympathetic ear. She had to give an interview at 11am so it wasn't a straight forward fix, but she thought we could work something out. We hung up as I pulled into the school parking lot. Gabriel helped me retrieve the room key, and my student was surprised and pleased to have a tiny classmate (this was a tutoring session, fortunately, rather than a full-sized class!). Eventually I reconnected with Rose, and in addition spoke with my program coordinator and another colleague, and between us all we worked out a plan to cover the necessary tutoring hours for my student. This allowed me to take my son home to ever more tea and couch-laying. I was grateful.

The cards accurately predicted how Gabriel would feel about attending school, but they also gave me a remedy. Though at first I didn't see how best to take advantage of the potentially available support network, when I made that sudden choice to not send my child to school, I was thrust into a situation that spurred me to reach out to others, and they indeed came together to aid me in that moment of need. What is special about that is the encouragement that the 3 of Cups had given me. I was feeling very much that I had to work everything out on my own. Pulling that card opened up an idea in my mind about how I might leverage help from others, and my trust in that possibility made me comfortable reaching out to ask for what I needed. I didn't have to figure it out on my own, and the positive energy of the card I'd drawn allowed me to believe that a solution was possible, and achievable. And it was.

Go divination. ;-)

5 of Water on the Last Day of School

My oldest daughter is transitioning from middle school to high school, and today is her last day of 8th grade. While she's extremely excited about being "in the big leagues" she's understandably bittersweet about leaving an entire school and social structure behind. She was giggling and dancing around the kitchen last night, noticeably anxious, and she said rather off-handedly, "Mom, do a reading for me about tomorrow!" I couldn't in that moment, but this morning I agreed to pull a card for her. Each time we ask her how she feels, and if she's sad, she says, "Well I'm really excited for next year!! But I am gonna miss my friends and teachers!" We remind her that she can see her friends over the summer, and encourage her to copy down phone numbers so they can make plans to see each other. Some of these friends will go to her new high school, but not everyone (including her big 8th grade crush, which she's particularly upset about).  So I shuffled my new Gaian Tarot, and as I went to select her card, I had one of those moments where you just *know* what the card is even before you turn it over:

5 of Water - Gaian Tarot
Joanna Powell Colbert

My daughter had wandered off down the hall, so I called to her to let her know I'd finished her draw. I showed her the card and she said "Oh my god, that's me!!" And I said "Yes - I asked 'how does Isa feel about her last day of school?' and this is what came up. Kinda perfect, don't you think?" She agreed. And moments like this are some of those that highlight how deeply grateful I am to be a card reader, because sometimes all you need is confirmation of how you're really feeling - the permission to be bummed out without being apologetic for it, or minimizing it. She smiled and we chatted a bit about her thoughts, and then she ran off to get ready for school.

This version of the 5 of Cups, or 5 of Water, is one of my favorites of all time because it's so real. There is no real symbolism in this card, apart from the gray skies. The young woman gazes across the lake or bay, solemn and withdrawn. She's holding a hot mug of steaming tea, and really sitting with - experiencing - her melancholy. We've all been there at some point or another. We don't need to see the three spilt cups to get the idea that there's sadness here, nor do we need to see two cups standing in order to understand that this feeling won't last forever. And rather than putting a silver lining on the sense of mourning by reminding ourselves that "this too shall pass," it's nice to be allowed to honor that "space," even if only for a moment.

So I wish my daughter a wonderful, comforting last day of middle school, full of hugs, laughter, and friends' numbers. May she find strength in letting go, and joy in the road ahead!

Understanding the Wildwood 5 of Vessels: Ecstasy

The 5 of Vessels is another of the many cards in the wonderful Wildwood Tarot (Mark Ryan, John Matthews, Will Worthington; Sterling Ethos 2011) that often tends to confuse readers when they first sift through the deck.  The keyword is “Ecstasy” and it features a woman dancing within a pentagram surrounded by five glowing cups.  The sky above is dark and filled with stars.  This card correlates to the traditional 5 of Cups, which we tend to think of as a card of mourning, sadness, regret, and challenges with recognizing the good in our lives.  So the Wildwood image and keyword seem so vastly unrelated to this understanding that at first readers may not know quite how to wrap their minds around it.  Let’s dive into the Wildwood and see if we can discover the deeper meaning of the 5 of Vessels, and how it connects to the traditional 5 of Cups….

Radiant Rider Waite
Updated by Virginijus Poshkus
U.S. Games, 2003

Christiana Gaudet, from Tarot Trends, has written a wonderful description of the power of the 5 of Cups, which provides an excellent starting place for truly understanding the meaning of the 5 of Vessels - “Ecstasy:”

“I love the 5 of Cups because it discusses a situation we all share. There will always be loss and disappointment in life. But this card reminds us to pay attention to what is standing and to what is still good. When we turn away from what has been lost and look to what is standing we see Two Cups.  The Two of Cups is the card of perfect love, and the healing power of love. The Five of Cups allows us to acknowledge our grief and then reminds us of what is most important to keep us on track - imploring us to release that grief and find healing through love. What could be better than that?”

Perfect love. Divine love. “Ecstasy” refers to shamanic ecstatic healing, a ritual through which shamanic healers access other dimensions and realms, connect to the divine, to Yggdrasil, the great Tree of Life, to the universal energies uniting us all.

There are many reasons for entering into an ecstatic state, but the principal reason is for healing – a spiritual healing from pain that can be brought on by the experience of physical and emotional loss.  “Ecstasy” is the acknowledgement of pain as well as the acknowledgement of the “two cups still full.”  It’s a conscious move toward healing, an understanding that pain is part of the process of loving, and of life.  Whereas we tend to view the 5 of Cups as focusing on what has been lost, the 5 of Vessels focuses on turning pain into transformation. It emphasizes the deep healing that is available to all who suffer, a process facilitated by a connection to the truest form of love that flows through us all.

When we understand what “Ecstasy” truly means, it becomes evident that it’s not really so different from the 5 of Cups, rather it gives us another perspective on loss and the powerful and positive change inherent in recovery.