when words fail me, which is often, I paint. When words work for me and are available on time, I am surprised.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Yes, the ego still aches. I am too thin skinned, sensitive, call it what you will. I have always been this way. As I child I remember weeping at the beauty of the sky after a thunderstorm, the scent of burning leaves on a mist filled Autumn morning. I'd cry even. Also, I have a tendency to feel other peoples' pain. I sometimes realize when I am in a crowd that the fleeting headache or sore throat I suddenly feel is really an indicator of what is going on with the person standing next to me. If I see a wound on someones body, I feel a lesser (thank goodness) version of the pain in my body.
I started collecting Tarot decks a few years ago, I must have close to twenty by now. I get excited about the new one, season it with my dreams and essence by putting it under my pillow for a few days and sleeping on it. I usually dream the images and sometimes my guides come along and tell me things, which unfortunately, I think I forget.
My favorite deck is the Klimt deck. Gustav that is, yes. Every card has his "Tree of Life" image on the back and the fronts are beutiful, strange, realistic and gilded. Gilded means laced with shiny gold right?
This deck is the most inspirational deck I own. I shuffle, they shuffle, then lay them out on an orange and white M.C. Escher type scarf, the images I get from these cards have caused me to make some people cry.
When I realized this was my favorite, I made it a special pocket pouch lined with emerald green velvet to carry it in, along with the orange scarf.
It fit nicely in my coat pocket. Sometimes I just carry it for company, like having a friend walk with me, so I won't feel like I am walking alone.
Two weeks ago Monday, I put it in my pocket. I recall thinking at some point since then that it would be bad juju to leave it next to the heater at work, or something like that, but I can't really remember what or when that really was. Last Wednesday, I realized the Klimt was not in the pocket, the alter, the pillow, the office, the shop, under the bed. . . . I have looked everywhere I can think of.
Freaking out about where those cards are, all infused with my psyche and everything, I ask myself what this means.
The answer comes to me instantly.
I am such a great psychic, I can't find my Tarot cards.
OK, the title 5 weeks has nothing to do with this post except, it may be my last for a few weeks. I just began a 5 week crash college class in statistics, now I am really ready to end it all. . . drama queen I am, but if I have been depressed the past few days, I am betting the statistics is going to take my head in a completely different direction.