stonetalker is doing one-card draws (I think until midnight Eastern today, if you’re interested:
I posted, “I’d just like to ask about the risk in some job decisions my husband and I have made recently”
The answer was, “The Six of Water tells a story of cooperation. It is a card of happiness that comes through sharing. The Six of Water is advising you to watch for unusual ways in which you can share your happiness with others. There is karma with this card, too; a bonding with those with whom you have shared previous lifetimes, or far-memory. Keep sharing your happiness, and happiness will keep itself sharing with you.
I feel no uneasiness regarding your job decisions; I feel these too were karmic for you. Just keep flowing with optimism and cooperation.”
No, I don’t particularly believe in the Tarot, but I do believe in “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” and that the universe is stranger than I can imagine. I don’t think there’s anything intrinsically magic about squares of carboard with pretty pictures on them; whether they can serve as tools for gifted people to tap into something bigger … I sayeth not. But I don’t say that they can’t and anyway it’s always nice to get affirmations, given that the alea is pretty much acta.
The risk is not so much about whether things will work out for my job, as whether Ted will get a job, and whether it’ll come with an expat contract. However, I feel strongly that they’d be idiots not to hire him, and they’re not idiots.
The above helps with the optimism bit, but I think I have the opposite of SADS, anyway. I perk up in winter. I loved last winter’s trip to the Ice Hotel and I’m lookng forward to going to the Netherlands in (under) two weeks. It’s probably largely because having spent most of the last 20 years in hot climates means that I am completely sick and tired of heat, but it’s also that the winter in those climates is so short and fleeting. I haven’t gotten tired of it at all. Then again, I didn’t mind the winter in the Netherlands. I confess I was more than ready for spring the winter I spent in Worcester, MA (see my very earliest blog entries) but that was mostly about being resentful and tired of Worcester.
I can tell my level of mood by what I’m singing, sometimes. Lately it’s all about hope. Last week it was Gordon Bok’s Turning Toward the Morning. Just now I caught myself singing his “Julian of Norwich”:
“Love, like the yellow daffodil is blooming in the snow;
Love like the yellow daffodil is Lord of all, I know.
Ring out, bells of Norwich and let the winter come and go –
All shall be well again, I know.”
In the next few weeks I know I’ll be singing Peter Yarrow’s “Light One Candle”, because I always do this time of year. I’ve come to think about that song, and Chanukah in general (and also St. Lucia’s Day and Christmas) as being about lighting a candle when darkness is looming, as an act of hope, faith, and defiance.
I see I lied above – I can tell by the non-tirra-lirra-y songs. I don’t exactly “perk up” in winter, because that implies being chipper and cheerful and carefree. You don’t need hope in that mood, just as you don’t need it in (metaphorical) summer. What winter rouses in me is more a mood of bloody-minded optimism, which makes me want to simultaneously embrace the cold and darkness (when I was in my early teens, when crowded parties got too loud and oppressive, I used to sneak outside and go walking, at night in winter without a coat), retreat from it (into the pleasures of cozy room tea or chocolate, book, fire, knitting), and defy it, by lighting lights and refusing to let darkness convince me that it’s here to stay. In winter I feel more like me.
I suppose none of the above makes much sense to anyone not living in this head. It’s a good mood to tackle paperwork hassles in, anyway.