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TarotBlogHop ~ Imbolc ~ Sanctuary of Self: Creating the Making

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 Welcome along your BlogHop adventure from Karen Sealey’s Pure & Blessed Tarot blog

Welcome to the Imbolc TarotBlogHop

… where we have this great group of TarotBlogHoppers working with Tarot in their own, unique ways coupled with the theme, “Tarot Healing & Creativity”.  Enjoy the experience of the Tarot Imbolc gifts one and all that you receive on this TarotBlogHop!

Welcome now

The warm-up no longer part of the performance, and the curtain goes up, the mic goes love… ahhh, leave the typo. Love goes well with live.  Welcome to my performance of the TarotBlogHop Imbolc theme

~ “Tarot Healing & Creativity” ~ 

Sanctuary of Self: Creating the Making 

 DAYum! Now, What cards go with what I am about to do?!

by Jordan Hoggard

Imbolc + Architecture + Tarot = Sanctuary of Self: Creating the Making

… where Imbolc can = a Gaelic festival celebrating the Goddess Brighid marking the beginning of spring

… where Architecture can = its Greek roots of arche and techne where arche is the creating, the first-spark of an idea, the inception AND techne is the making, the putting together of that idea in form, the conception.

… where Tarot can = a perpetual well-Spring that naturalizes Self… We are not broken when there is no hole in our soul.  We are whole and complete and resonant relationships enhance our freedom… where rather than armor for protection there is healing born of integrated armor. Integrated armor is health.

So, it is simple, really, what cards go with this?   The Magician’s intense focus for Imbolc,… though isn’t focus somehow formless?  Well, yes, get to the damn blog! ,,, and The High Priestess’ giving form to that formlessness.  Oh, I see, first there must be that formless 1st-spark of full-on focused idea, and then there is the full-on giving of form to that formless.  Though, WHAT ABOUT effin results and fruition!?!  Everything’s process!  Well, everthing is ALL IS about process … Oh, I see, Ye Olde arche – techne game…. and, not to worry… the Empress coming to full term from her Yoniverse of which all else emanates will be there …  So, Imbolc. SpringaComingOn… Hop into your Magician~Priestess~Empress… not to worry.  The Emperor was out on Holiday.

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Tarot

Tarot induces the Creating.  We are each the Making always in the making. All similar, each unique. Always complete, never finished… while continually driving consequences expressed in results… results that continually create, so we can make, so we can put things together.  We are Divine, and thus we divine. Tarot cards flash as shooting stars through the mind like…Star light, star bright…

Tarot light, Tarot bright. First Tarot card I see tonight.  I wish I may, I wish I might, divine the wish I have tonight.

Imbolc

Brighid.  

With an image like Joanna Powell Colbert’s at the link… nuff said.

Architecture

Tarot cards can be seen as cardboard Source Magnets.  With Tarot cards the Temple In (Wo)Man is nourished, washed in the ablution of wonderment given form in each turn of a card. With this nourishment from Source we continually heal AS each new cycle of our wholeness. We are each the Creating itself. We are each the Making. We are each the Creating and the Making in and as our Divinity.

May Tarot nourish the highest and lowest of your life-octaves.

May every card back remind you of Source, of potential, of innate talent present.  May every card turned over further assist you to develop your innate talents into effective abilities.

Always complete, Never finished. Each birth is brilliant in its age, in that which came before that is present to nourish and root the now… for flying as high as your roots go deep.  Allow the still waters in your cards running deep and silent flowing to heal your worry and direct your insight to be the heartbeat of every action. Dream while awake with your Tarot cards. Have that instant theosophic vision of the lapis of the card back that when turned over is a dream born and birthing psychic gold. Direct your dreams. Aim your insight outwardly to affect healthy and responsive results.  Water confirms to its cup they say.  Fill the cup around you with aimed insight. Discover a card anew each time you rediscover it by turning it over. Turn each card over and feel the health of 78 Card-Magnets of Source living in the the sanctuary that is you… and further nourishing you each time you do. This is especially helpful to nourish your readings for others. Water your empathy seeds with experience, fresh experience.

Your next stop is Morgan Drake Eckstein’s Gleamings from the Golden Dawn Tarot blog.

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“Adversity does not build character.  It reveals it.” ~ James Lane Allen

“Even in a card with no people, there’s still always one…You looking in through the portal.” ~ Jordan Hoggard

NOW AVAILABLE!

PowerScopes

Like a day by day empowering astrology book for 2014, though with TarotScopes!

365 daily empowerment tool Tarotscopes.  52 weekly summaries.

126 pages to enhance your 2014 in an easy to use pdf

Order your copy of AREA 52 today!

PowerScopes v2

Order your copy of AREA 52 today!

(c) 2013 Jordan Hoggard

All images (c) 2010 Jordan Hoggard

Tarot Bargain of the Century!

 
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Posted by on February 1, 2014 in Tarot BlogHop

 

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TarotBlogHop ~ Yule ~ The Black Crucible of the Magician

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Welcome to the Yule TarotBlogHop

… where we have this great group of TarotBlogHoppers working with, playing, interpreting, and / or dancing the the topic of Tarot in their own, unique ways coupled with the theme, “TURNING DARKNESS INTO LIGHT”.  Enjoy the experience of the Tarot Yule gifts one and all that you receive on this TarotBlogHop. They are Yule gifts one and all!

Welcome now

as the chaff of the warm-up sloughs off from the wheat of the intro in the BlogHop wind… and, like in theatre, the warm-up is no longer part of the Yule performance… Welcome to my iteration-gift of the TarotBlogHop Yule theme:

~ “TURNING DARKNESS INTO LIGHT” ~ 

The Black Crucible of the Magician

by Jordan Hoggard

The Black Crucible of The Magician!  WHAT?!  What is THAT?  What is the Black Crucible of The Magician? Well…

[[[ Do a slideshow video speaking the meditation ]]] 

Close your eyes. Visualize the big bowl of your night sky as a huge, black crucible you look up into. Visualize your huge night sky with stars as an immense forming-vessel, as a …Black Crucible gifted by The Magician and his first-sparks of ideas.  Then, visualize your own shooting star to strike across and square your circle of this big, black bowl of your night sky.  Remember this shooting star as a 1st spark of inspiration. Allow this 1st spark of inspiration to brighten you as it disappears into the darkness.  

Remember the 1st-spark shooting star.  Visualize that shooting star AS the 1st spark of ALL ideas.  Remember the shooting star cascading across your night sky. As you remember that shooting star, slow its instantaneous coming and going down. Slow that shooting star down as you watch it slowly cross your night sky like Inner State Highways TV.  Watch it and smile.  Watch it and imagine. Now… imagine it starting across the  sky, the Black Crucible again.  Bring your shooting star to mind and focus on it.  Like candle gazing, bring your shooting star to mind and see it up close.  Get wonderfully lost in its infinity of tinyness and distance as you cascade yourself to it up close.  

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Now, with it slowed down so you fully experience it, engage yourself to flex your temples smiling into it again… this time flexing your temples to imagine it in up close like a candle flame. As you begin to imagine it again, slow down your big bowl of night sky that is around it.  Watch the whole scene as the shooting star appears and slowly, slowly moves across your big bowl of night sky.  Slowly. Slowly.  Slowly.  And, it is gone again. Bring it back to mind again up close like a candle’s flame. Go through its magical cycle of life, its magical cycle as it dives into you through your imagination.  Experience the full cascade of energies of a shooting star seen up close frame by frame.  Run slowly through the star’s cascade across your sky again as you count to 9 across its path.  

Settle your shooting star into your imagination in its own orbit. Recall it when you need a shot of inspiration. Remember the shooting star each time as it plays slowly in long-form each time you have an idea.  Remember this slow-form of your idea to gear into ITS mode of cycles before you jump in and write it down. Feel its presence on its terms. Feel its presence on your terms.  Adjust to the pace and rhythm of each idea you have this way.  Slowly gear into each idea as that shooting star across your sky and up close. Shift focus and redirect scale as you feel to or simply do… as you steer yourself to jot down the remembrance of its own particular ways, of its own particular ways enhancing your own, particular ways. What are its identifying qualities? Does it have a name to remember it by?

Now, identify and think of something you struggle with or a challenge you enjoy AS this shooting star. No need to stay Tarot related now at this point in the meditation. You have almost gone all night in these brief moments. Visualize the morning twilight. Visualize the Psych Synapse invisi-bridge of night to day in the twilight dawn. Raise your hands up stretching like the sun stretches across the twilight horizon to birth the day. Take 4 deep breaths. 1   2   3   4. And, in your 5th breath, your chaos-central air-traffic control breath, feel all of these things come together in seamlessly synchromeshed orbits. Think about opening your eyes. Simply think about opening your eyes as the sun thinks about the day right before it comes over the event horizon of the twilight dawn.  Now slowly. Slowly. Slowly open your eyes as you inhale through your nose. As you are open your eyes, jot down an idea that comes to you right now, any idea.  

Ask yourself: “How can I actively utilize this idea to really begin to express the particular core of this idea? How is this idea  a primary connective tissue throughout all of my actions and influence. What is ts essence? What one noun comes to mind?  Write that noun down.

Now, write it down again with the word “to” in front of it to make an infinitive, a baby policy, an expression of the form-giving dna of one of your priorities. If your word was “dream,” then wrote down “to dream.” If your word was clarity, write down “to clarity.” Make your noun into a verb as you awaken inhaling through your nose flexing your temples to the new light in the day of this meditation.

Now, there’s good news and there’s bad news. The good news is that you have an idea.  The bad news is now you’ve gotta actively breathe life into it and build foundations under its dream.

Take a few moments to say nothing. Simply look around your space right at your fingertips and a little further and as far as you can see.  Write down the three close, near, and far away things that catch your eye first.  Allow these three things to tell you of an action you can take to bring your idea to life.

Smile. Breathe. Flex your temples. You are through the dark night. Now, work your idea through the day.

Cheers to your successes always. All the Best to You. You are your own Royal Court. May the Black Crucible of the Magician always show you how best to get the rubber to meet the road with your ideas from start to finish.  Start to finish. Always complete, never finished… Now, start… to finish. Start to Finish.

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Gratuitous Advertising and Shameless Self-Promotion Below

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“Adversity does not build character.  It reveals it.” ~ James Lane Allen

“Even in a card with no people, there’s still always one…You looking in through the portal.” ~ Jordan Hoggard

NOW AVAILABLE!

AREA 52: 52 weeks of Tarot day by day

Like a day by day astrology book for 2014, though with TarotScopes!

52 weekly summaries.

365 daily Tarotscopes.

126 pages to enhance your 2014 in an easy to use pdf

Order your copy of AREA 52 today!

Order your copy of AREA 52 today!

(c) 2013 Jordan Hoggard

All images (c) 2010 Jordan Hoggard

Tarot Bargain of the Century!

 
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Posted by on December 21, 2013 in Tarot BlogHop

 

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TarotBlogHop ~ Lammas ~ Tender’s Wisdom

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The previous stop on this Lammas BlogHop adventure is Stella T’arot’s US Games’ blog

The next stop on this Lammas BlogHop adventure is Joanna Ash’s bright SunGoddess Tarot blog.

Welcome to the Lammas TarotBlogHop

… where we have this great group of TarotBlogHoppers working, playing, interpreting, and / or dancing the the topic of Tarot coupled with the question, “What can I share from my table to enrich my community?”

First Off, One Expression of Lammas is…

The remembrance of place in the protection of the barn as a symbol of abundant storage with a sacred loaf baked with care and attention from the first harvest, and broken into four with each quarter gifted to each of the barn’s four corners. I tend to play with shapes, so I might need to do that, though sneak-bake another loaf or two to sacredly quarter and gift to the additional corners… Please don’t think Zodiac Barn.  ;-)…. errr, and so I don’t allegedly modernize your Lammas rituals or skew the good history of Lammas… well, not right off the bat at least…

Here’s a Bit Of General Lammas info for You from Wikipedia: (that I will so graciously edit in blue in parentheses in context as making bread is a process and needs to be minded.  And, though I feel the patient awareness of kneading the dough is wonderful now, it also gives me a chuckle to think back to my Dad’s “breadmaking” when I was young and bring it into now… as I tend to edit the cookbook of life so to speak with how I work though the DAYum discipline of the ritual is fortunately ALWAYS there… where the warm-up is absolutely necessary and as well not part of the baked golden performance of bread when the curtain of the oven opens.  [paragraph] Heck, in my book nothing is sacred that you can’t laugh with.  There may be Silence in ritual, though ritual is no shhhhh of a library in my house… uh hem… delegating the kneading of the 1st batch of bread to the kiddo. SOMEbody other than me was certainly laughing.  Back then the task was SO lost on me… though I certainly had no idle hands. Thankful for that now, the kneading, the incessant kneading which seemed to outlast Sisyphus though somehow served to burn out incessant needing.  All alone in the kitchen kneading that first batch my mind would wander while remaining in an intensely focused kneading autopilot.  Not too fast.  Not too slow.  And, we always kneaded together on the second and third batches. On Holidays my Dad made about 25 loaves.  Rockin’ Moroccan Anise Bread!  Hearty and tasty stuff!  I guess the real selflessness was that ANY of it actually left the house.  Though, he would drive around with 8 or so loaves each afternoon making rounds over several days with each fresh batch. He would make rounds and socialize gifting fresh, rockin’ Moroccan Anise bread.  It’s like the bread went to the four corners of the city… and also to a farm or two beyond the city limits.)

“In some English-speaking countries in the Northern Hemisphere, August 1 is Lammas Day (Anglo-Saxon hlaf-mas, “loaf-mass”), the festival of the wheat harvest, and is the first harvest festival of the year. On this day it was customary to bring to church (I’ll substitute “sacred place of gathering”) a loaf made from the new crop, (remove comma and keep kneading) which began to be harvested at Lammastide. The loaf was blessed, and in Anglo-Saxon England it might be employed afterwards to work magic. (Uhh, awkward transition that at first begs for a new paragraph and then… “Keep kneading kid, it’s good for you. Oh, and think about magic and discipline while you are kneading the dough, and how you can best switch gears and extend your thought with paragraphs to enhance their flow.  But, mostly only think about kneading the dough. If you stop, it won’t rise right.  We’ll be back shortly and we’ll check your progress. Gotta go out and get some more yeast. You washed your hands, right?”  Hmmm, I always wondered why they didn’t fully prepare with enough ingredients beforehand?  I smile now at their date-afternoon yeast errands.) A book of Anglo-Saxon charms directed that the lammas bread be broken into four bits, (remove comma… dang my hands are getting tired. WHEN are they going to be back??!)) which were to be placed at the four corners of the barn, (comma, kneading kneading. What do I do when my nose itches?) to protect the garnered grain. (uhhh, left field grinding gears.  Use the clutch next time.  Don’t knead too fast.) In many parts of England, (no comma after prepositional phrase required. I hope they get back soon as I’ll develop Superman grip if I do this much longer. OH, STRONG HANDS!!!, I am making BREAD OF THE GODS!… uh hem… they’re not back yet.  Focus.  Knead.  Keep kneading) tenants were bound to present freshly harvested wheat to their landlords on or before the first day of August. In the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, where it is referred to regularly, it is called “the feast of first fruits”. The blessing of first fruits was performed annually in both the Eastern and Western Churches on the first or the sixth of August.”

Welcome now as the chaff of the warm-up and kneading comes off from the wheat of the process in the wind.

Welcome now as the Lammas kneading warm-up leaves, leaves toward loaves, where the warm-up is not part of the performance, and where warm and fresh is just amazing.

Welcome.

Let’s break some sacred bread together for the corners,

each friend themself a corner.

Welcome

to my iteration of the TarotBlogHop Lammas theme:

Our theme is: ~ “What can I share from my table to enrich my community?” ~ 
established, down-to-earth spirit, wisdom, new spirit, activation

established, down-to-earth spirit, wisdom, new spirit, activation

 

I Offer from My Table

I offer a poem from The Hierophant in Tarot in the Land of Mystereum (Schiffer, 2010) as the eye of a storm and center of the 5′s to express the natural and developed tool on my table that is my anti-hysterical bias, the beautiful curse born of grace under pressure kneaded and risen and baked into my soul from way too many deadlines over decades.  Heck, a bomb might go off and amidst the chaos, and I’ll most probably respond with, “DANG! I forgot my lunch today.”, and then calmly and directly address air traffic control from the eye of the storm as I pilot amidst the chaos to another completion… pilot knowing that the center doesn’t actually always occur in the middle.

I Offer from my table a poem I wrote this year for Lammas

As I thought about the Hierophant as a Silverback, I composed a poem for Lammas as my enriching gift to you and yours from my table to spread as you will.  May this bread gifted below be baked golden and quartered and gifted to your friends to protect the four barn corners of your life.  As I think of the Silverback as The Hierophant, I wonder, I knead the idea.  And, as I wonder… wondering, kneading… I wonder wondering if the tender topics in life are the most natural like dough. I wonder wondering if the tender topics are best kept tender where they feel to touch Nature itself in their naturally tender way where their adversity never builds their character… where their adversity reveals it… And, tender topics may simply knead their lives as a beautifully personal oven continually revealing their character.

A gift of a poem for you for Lammas.  

Here is the sustenance of “Tender’s Wisdom”, a poem from my table gifted to you to quarter and protect your corners.  The Silverback Hierophant’s got your back, so DIG IN AND ENJOY with you and yours!  … I have errands to go do, rounds to make.

Tender’s Wisdom

Wisdom expressed is best
with its soft curls and wisps
never cut too short or made to be brittle
by giving in to the reactionary arachnid
of conversation and reaction that bleeds things empty.
Naturally expressed wisdom,
talents honed and developed into secure abilities,
embraces wisdom in life itself wise in time in the moment
as it dispenses with futile searches for Truth.
Naturally expressed wisdom
embraces one’s own fluid fluency
fully becoming aware that Truth is not to be trusted to philosophers,
fully becoming aware that we are all similar and each unique,
and that the full Songs of Experience of Life and Love are Truth,
as Truth is born of a full life mixed up and kneaded over years
to rise up to continually be baked golden.
There feels to be a fluid fluency in the Truth of tender things,
a fluid fluency as much as coral zips back into its shell for protection,
at the same time as much the integrated armor
of a cute, ole, 600-pound tiger napping on its back
strong enough to be able to be gentle.
The Hierophant on a bad day may be the stubborn, unbending traditionalist,
though The Hierophant as Silverback has a welcoming, down-to-earth spirit
having brought spirit down to the earth long ago,
has a natural tenderness present
coupled with the strength of unflinching wits to support you.
The Hierophant,
continually baked golden and repeatedly kneaded and risen by decades under fire,
is present in those you know who live in continually evolving awareness
of their own Truth as they compassionately protect all four corners.
The Hierophant,
is present in those you know to be unflinchingly tender
while strong enough to be gentle without bluster.
The Hierophant,
continually baked golden by decades under fire,
bearing the naturally integrated armor of coral as his wits,
is strong enough to be gentle,
strong enough to be gentle.

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The previous stop on this Lammas BlogHop adventure is Stella T’arot’s US Games’ blog

The next stop on this Lammas BlogHop adventure is Joanna Ash’s bright SunGoddess Tarot blog.

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“Adversity does not build character.  It reveals it.” ~ James Lane Allen

“Even in a card with no people, there’s still always one…You look in through the portal.” ~ Jordan Hoggard

(c) 2013 Jordan Hoggard

All images (c) 2010 Jordan Hoggard

Tarot Bargain of the Century!

 

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Christmas Present Prescient Presence

Welcome TarotBlogHoppers from Aislin’s blog! 

Welcome to this Tarothoppin’ segment along your TarotBlogHop dance of “Christmas Present.”

Christmas Present Prescient Presence & Garlic

[[[ Devil ~ Lovers ~ Ugolin ~ Judgment ~ Priestess ]]]

La lepidus illecebra

A charming, witty, pleasant, and elegant enticement?

. . . such as a present opened from the mouth of a vampire?

 

There forever

they shall reside

under a small lake,

immeasurably deep,

lying high up in the mountains,

where is brewed the thunder,

and in fair weather the dragon sleeps.

 

Ours is not a lot to be feared.

The dragon is a necessary beast.

 

Whipcrack!

The older arrow flies broken,

til the hand’s firedance overrolls the lips

to lift the line.

 

Lifting the line

to further unwrap this cadeau,

the prescient presence of this present,

now, in the present . . .

There is Brahmana, your Priestess.

There is Brahmana, My Love

as she writhes as an empowering apocalypse,

as snow leopard sent as epiphany

to sleeping warrior.

 

You have your narcissists, though predatorial bliss is diff to a vampire,

is simply a pure life lived in each moment

forever resonant with ITS own way . . .

is sniffing the acrolid bodyair of this present writhing moment

opening another present across twilight,

through and into and across dusk re-awakening . . .

Predatorial bliss is knowing this small hourglass

knowing her own stopping power,

as She knows my dreaming life

better than I know my own eternity.

 

You see . . . I opened a moment centuries ago.

I’ll call the wrapping paper of this present in the present

a prescient cadeau of The Vampire’s Offspring . . . where . . .

 

The Vampire’s Offspring

juvenilis puerilis vanitas ostentatio jactatio

Feel your safety on your holy ground.

Suckle

on the myth of your goodness

in those places you hold sacred,

while I suckle

on the rest of humanity.

We do not follow you to those places

as we cannot

do those things which are conquerable,

and simply cannot bear those places where you sing.

 

Those places do not protect you.

Enslaved gargoyles,

traitors to us lest their unknowing feet

entrained in those prison-shoes of stone you fashioned,

and an occasional bellringer stroking them

as they drone high above your path,

where the wind is stronger than the scent of your life,

keep us circling above,

intent on your storied portals,

those lists of the best tasting among you.

 

Angels.  You misname them.

They are simply prettier to you

than their gargoyle siblings

held down by those enslaving prisonshoes of stone

that you call cathedrals.

 

You should know,

there have been sly ones among you.

Those tricky Nassenes for instance,

knowing that in our vanity we will not touch our young,

as we, too, find them abominable,

stole away with nine of them,

worshipping them as they grew,

carrot-leading them:

 

You are perfect as you are . . .

Grow strong not beautiful . . .

Help keep us safe . . .

 

Up there you can see eternity. Live up there . . .

Turn to stone, it is strong . . .

 

Ignorant of their heritage,

of their eventual grace and stealth and eternity,

they were taught to perceive a strength and power

in your piles of stone conveniently shaped.

 

Behold Us!

We are strong and beautiful.

 

Can you resist us?

Gaze into our eyes and see inside your universe.

Touch our skin of winter,

and feel the heat of your passion

pulsing in the silence of our bodies.

 

Peeking through the wonder piquing,

can you resist us?,

knowing that all we want

is simply to open your entire life for just a moment?

 

Your silent guardians sometimes stir

inside their stony sleep

still unborn into a life

where they would eventually die into their own eternity.

 

They lie dormant far above you,

and nightly we circle.

Nightly the bellringer.

Nightly they stir far above you.

It is not fire or lightning

that occasionally rips the gargoyles from the towers of your cathedrals.

 

Keep eating your garlic.

We will help you stop sinning more quickly

if you are spiced up a bit.

 

Welcome to the opening of a new gift.

Welcome to your opening into a new epoch after solar system at orbital apogee with the Galactic Center.

 

The last glyph on the Mayan Calendar may actually translate as . . .

Time to re-order your Daytimer Baktunacus.

How do you open past this Grand & Epochal Apogee?

Presently, how will you open your own present of your Imagination Solar System across the magical twilight dusk-n-dawn at one and the same time both top and bottom of breath at one . . .

Exhaling, your shoulders dropping a bit to relax, the yin of breath.

Inhaling, the intake  of life, the yang of breath.

Hmmm, can you Yin-hale? Can you Yanga-style-exhale?

Ahhh, nevermind that.  Open this Grand & Epochal Apogee!

Nevermind recycling the paper.

Let the opening of your cadeau rip!

Open your prescient presence right now in the present as you open YOUR present of YOUR Imagination Solar System right now, presently!

Rip, J. blah blah Pritchard RIP!!

© 2012 Jordan Hoggard

All images © 2010 Jordan Hoggard

All similar, each unique.

Happy Mutha of all TGIFs today!!

Best to your Christmas Present!

 Click here to  POOF yourself right to the next TarotBlogHop stop at Joy Vernon’s Tarot blog.

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Samhain BlogHop ~ Savoring Shadow

Samhain BlogHop ~ Savoring Shadow

Welcome Samhain TarotBlogHoppers from Johnnie Twobrows Metaphysical Meanderings blog!  If you’ve just hopped in right here, make sure to drop back a blog and check it out.  

Welcome to this Tarothoppin’ segment along your TarotBlogHop Samhain dance.  The theme across the TarotBlogHop during Samhain this year is: Rather than look to outside entities this Samhain, look inside of yourself. All of your Self. The dark pieces that you think you have left behind. The parts of your Shadow that you believe you have pushed deep, deep down into a dark well . . . I look forward to meeting you.”  

If you encounter a broken link alonig your TarotBlogHop, visit Amethyst Mahoney’s blog clicking here where there is a Master List.

Tarot ~ Samhain ~ Savoring Shadow

I savor my Shadow, always have as long as I can remember.  I remember watching the shadow of a butterfly, the butterfly flying near, its shadow on the ground flying near mine.  And, as it flew by over me, its shadow disappeared into mine, re-emerging on the other side . . . of my shadow . . . of my head.  I was 3.

Life as I thought I (k)new it with my big, bright eyes curious and intrepidly traveling was about to end . . . actually, one day, 3 miles down the highway to Funland it was soon to end, though didn’t.  Heck, I asked my Mom if we could go to Funland.  She expressed now wasn’t the time.  Sauntered over and asked my Dad . . . after picking up a volume of Faulkner and dropping it in the trash. “Dad. Funland?”  “Oh no, Jordy, go explore” as he motioned smilingly to the back yard which was pretty expansive. Heck, I had asked them if they wanted to go.  I really wasn’t asking them to drive me there.  I was just trying to be inclusive.  They were my parents, and that was the only polite thing to do, right?  So, I shrugged my shoulders, it was out the back door I went . . . and out the side gate, and down the street with a friend I happened to see, and was on my way stylin’ with no shirt on.  He was a year older from up the street, but I used my deep and lightly gruff voice to make sure I knew what I was doing and make sure he thought this was a pretty good idea, too.  It was ONLY 3+ miles down a highway, and there was only ONE highway . . . the highway just happened to be the majority of getting there.  Geez, there was a shoulder, and after all . . . I was this many (3). LOL

Life as I (k)new it with my big, bright eyes curious and intrepidly traveling was soon to end. Or, was my life’s shadow simply flying in to my head to seed my continual transformation? . . . that had already concretely begun?

Let’s take a step back from 3.  Yes, a step back from 3.  This is not a specific memory other than the car smashing against the driveway when I dropped it ( ;-) ) but I had had a hernia when I was 2.  My abdominal wall just flew open and my intestines POOF-bulged out.  It’s more common than you know for boys.  I don’t remember the pain as I evidently made quite the noises, though off to the hospital and Dr. Crump gently and masterfully pop-pressed my intestines back in with a masterful palm, and then sliced me open, and sewed me up good as new . . . or, so I thought.

You see, that hernia in the lower side of my abdomen. . . that’s the sacral region. A child of 2 won’t conceptualize the violation, only the no-pain-after.  Frankly, it’s very natural.  Sounds like blacking something out?  Nah, my experience was fully experiencing and moving on, not tieing myself to every little experiential knick-knack.  Didn’t really matter, though . . . Life as I thought I new it was about to end.

Age 4 1/2.  Off to Mayo Clinic for 2 weeks. Reconstructive surgery on a portion of my insides.  Evidently, I was still a bun in the oven, huh?  They gave the final, physical formation pushes a boost.  Oops, there was an overshadowing snag.  All of the surgery went brilliantly, though I started the sniffles after a 16 hour surgery began.  Came out with pneumonia — that happens if you go into a surgery with a cold — and lived 10 of the remaining 12 days in an oxygen tent.  OOPS.  oxygen tent.  PURE environment.  Can you say Initiation?  Can you say high octane air?  I’m betting those 10 days dosing me with that much oxygen activated some things a little early?  Seratonin?  HeLLO, How long till I get to be a man?  lol.  Balancing brain chemicals may have begun flowing as naturally as a child plays? . . . if they already weren’t.  Couple the surgery trauma with the purity of an oxygen environment . . . . prelude to Chthonic Numinosity?

Age 5 1/2.  Back to Mayo Clinic for Act II and doing the final touches inside after the rest of the surgery had had a year to take and get things going on their own.

Why am I going into this biography when the topic is about the Shadow?  Because somewhere between 4 1/2 and 5 1/2 my childhood ended.  Exile.  All I could feel was exile, and my big, bright-eyed smile at the same time.  Rumplestiltskin was my fave fave fave story. Heck!  What little boy wouldn’t find the Gold-spinning Queen guessing Rumplestiltskin’s name on the 3rd try “in his rage drove his right foot so far into the ground that it sank in up to his waist; then in a passion he seized the left foot with both hands and tore himself in two.”  THRILLING!  RIVETING!  Almost better than blowing things up.  Almost.  Yet, think of a boy learning his own name, opened up at 2.  Nope.  Not the name.  Opened up at 4 1/2.  Nope, Not the name again.  And, BAM at 5 1/2 BOOM.  “Close, suchre, and let all heal as he takes it easy for a while.  He’s a real trooper.

Scroll forward where we skip the summers in Central Mexico, divorce and consequent MULTIPLE CHRISTMASES AND BIRTHDAYS WHOO HOO! (Oh, don’t go there.  I was 6 then. Safe to say that’s as processed and cooked as ground beef).  Skip the discovery of Alan Watts and Eastern Philosophy and Architecture at 14. Skip the Black Belt at 17.  Skip a whole 5 years of individual death marches of projects through architecture school.  

Scroll forward to 1991, where the last day or two of thesis in college I had discovered Rainer Maria Rilke and Carl Jung and William Blake and Pablo Neruda almost simultaneously.  Ohhh, the duality present.  Oops, so I thought.  How did I have such an immediate handle on these figures’ works?  Yes yes, I resonated with them which certainly helps, though there was something of an almost direct memory quality to their work. Wasn’t some previous lifetime or concepts like that.  Felt like as easy as remembering a fave birthday present or time from years back.  Hmmm, I just graduated, and really had just begun my own education in earnest free of school. . . .

Please DO notice the archetypal sun in this card seen up close with deep space all around.  Your bright identity can nestle in your shadow to highlight your brightness.  Let it.  May I suggest you ask it for a dance?

Scroll-dial up one year now to 1992 and I defined Self as “Chthonic Numinosity.”  I painted “The Dive” and “Ichthusa” and “Chthonic Numinosity: Self” in the short span of several weeks after continuous Big Dreams each night, and POOF “Chthonic Numinosity: Self” was accepted into a show and featured in the front window of Alpha Gallery’s Art By Architects Show in Denver at 110 Broadway.  I found Jung in earnest and devoured 22 Bollingen series volumes in 6 months.  My painting “Ichthusa” disappeared when a woman said, “SO erotic” as she slipped a check in my hand, quietly took it off the wall as I watched, and walked out the door of a brewery’s gallery several months later.  After her car disappeared out of sight, I had fun being fakely low-key with, “Has anyone seen the painting I had in this spot?  Did one of you sell it?”  Thing is . . . how did she hide in plain sight so stealthily as she carried a 20″ x 90″ painting right out the front door?  One of the people I asked had actually helped her with the door.

She set the anima free back in the wild.  I could forget about consciously mining those Melusina depths in earnest. Earnestly forget mining them, and earnestly forget and move on.  Note to all you Girruls out there: Hell, if a guy ever even MENTIONS his anima to you, that faceless female onto which anything can project, RUN LIKE HELL.  It’s important to know about it, but geez, no, nope . . . talk to the hand . . . don’t bring that up catharting in public unless you have just as big of an ‘excuse me’ ready when you cathart in public.  

Think about that whole thing.  She took the painting.  It resonated, and I simply smile out from the depthful place and had a little fun as I saw the sun through the opening door. Cave metaphor? Yep. Long ‘parting is such sweet sorrow goodbyes?” Hell no. It was time.  My Shadow then opened me up with forgetting being for getting.  Forgetting, is for getting . . . for making more room for the good stuff with something I had made.

And, I had defined self as Chthonic Numinosity. ‘Nuff said as I loved yet forgot Carl Jung’s “Mysterium Coniunctionis: A Phenomenology of Self” into my own two words in that painting.  Forgetting is for getting.  Makes more room for YOUR OWN good stuff.  What happened to that painting?  I had THAT relationship in my early 30′s, and I let the Shadow lead one day.  SO glad I did.  I cut up and destroyed that painting after taking enough Glass Hook Venom from her to kill an elephant.  Call it the Shadow Initiating me by trial and by fire from naivete so I’d keep my refreshed freshness and sense of humor with depthful, almost scuba gear for the psyche . . . yet as well my Shadow led me to step out of there pretty immediately, and get the rest of the backstocked paintings to be adopted by a friend and his storage area PRONTO before they suffered the same fate as Chthonic Numinosity’s shamanic dismemberment mirroring my own in the “Das Panzer” relationship.  And, shadows stretch out long at certain times of the day.  It was one of those ultra-mundane Tarot readings of my shadow long on the highway shoulder of ground in traffic, in a car, that pointed me . . . reading the visual . . . to GET OUT OF HERE!  YOU ARE IN DANGER my Shadow felt to say when I traced its outline on the highway offramp. My Shadow literally pointed the way on the shoulder.  Hmmm, sound familiar?

And, The Dive, my natural way, soonafter disappeared as a gift to a friend.  You see, that exile I mentioned?  I had and still have a wonderful family.  Very very supportive.  But, I was Rumplestitskin ripped open at 2, 4 1/2, and 5 1/2.  Duality came early, and soonafter felt very amatuer or bush-league.  Jung.  Alchemy. Antinomy.  Chthonic Numinosity is a statement of antinomy.  Not antimony, antinomy — integrated inner opposites that in a small way each work together AS each supporting side of every Psychic Synapse Bridge in the magical twilight of a thought.  Antinomy became the higher octave of duality, an interesting identity with shadow rather than Jeckyl and Hyde.

My sense of exile while being IN a supportive family environment can only be penned as a natural, self-exile, and at one and the same time it needs no impetus or direction or reasoning.  That was simply how I began, the Capricorny sickly-ish child though mine presented physically in 1 2 3 and then off to the races across the next 20-year plateau.  Exile and a comfortability with wandering were one pair of my chief influencers — now it’s more a comfortability with the not-knowing while freshly getting projects done on time like pulling fresh bread out of the oven.  If I was bored then, I needed to go entertain myself.  When you’re out there alone, ya gotta make it for yourself or you’ll bore yourself to death. When Tom Hanks named his ball Wilson . . . YES!!!!  Deep   In    Self he was, and his Shadow-friend Wilson was the ideal companion . . . for the island.

Integrated inner opposites.  Antinomy.  Chthonic Numinosity.  Your shadow plays with you every day with an even more fluid fluency than Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing together regardless of your motions.  Yes, that’s mundane shadow.  Though, is it?  Is it also the face of your depths evidently present? . . . .  Yet, remember my butterfly at 3.  It disappeared into my head, only to re-emerge, all the while before, during, and after as a shadow.  A shadow into my head, that was a shadow.  You can play some 3-level chess with that one . . . I’ll be over on the checkers board.

Have some fun in the sun and dance with your shadow.  Be like The Sophia Principle that Pallas-Athene always reminds me of: Aware enough to sense your shadow, yet smart enough to dance with it.  Notice that it is not phrased “to not fight with it.”  Notice it is not phrased with light and dark and yin and yang and this and that and vice-versa contrariwise.  It is phrased, “aware enough to sense your shadow, yet smart enough to dance with it.”  Aware, conscious. Sense, natural animal. Smart, sensate Swords thinking. Dance . . . well, dance is everything, huh. Rather than waiting for a shaman to ask when you stopped dancing.  I have been dancing with my shadow my whole life.  May I cut in and ask you to have a dance with yours in the sun.  Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s that first step to finding that little kid in The Tower . . . the little kid that is You, Only New.  But, you (k)new that, didn’t you?  Go dance with yourself in the sun.  I’m sure Billy Idol would approve.

How does YOUR Shadow enhance your sense of place cast from your body so you don’t float away, or at least you playfully know where your own ground is?  How is the spell of your shadow cast?  How do you cast the spell of your shadow?  

Are there other shadow characteristics that are effortless as well?  I suggest to just make sure you get used to leading when dancing with your Shadow.  The Shadow isn’t very helpful when leading, and as you can imagine I’ve never been terribly fascinated with Persona. Was that a non sequitur?  Well, I’ll be damned.  It wasn’t.  My Shadow made me do it, anyway, though. :-)

TarotBlogHop in and dance!  Heck, I may have re-invented enough wheels in my life to be an honorary tire designer. Even so, I still rather my foot on the gas, steering wheel in hand. I almost want to credit that to my Shadow.  I’ll have to step up and accept the honor, though.  The lighting in here doesn’t cast her through the screen.

Life didn’t really end, huh?  In fact since age 2 it has just gotten intensely better and better.  Note the two Tarot card images.  The Sun, and The Tower.  Feel deeply the Sun’s bright identity nestled directly in its deep-space-all-around Shadow, and its dark and light characters working together below.  Note the After-Shadow of The Tower when all the smoke and rubble has cleared, and see the bright-eyed little child come up asking you all sorts of questions that you answer and answer and answer some more until you realize you are answering them ALL and POOF . . . poof . . . poof all quietens down, and that little child’s eyes beam, as you smilingly ask, “Who are you?”  The child smiles back, “I’m you, only new.”  DAYum, the Tower Kid is in the future from mentioning him before.  Quite a bright one that Tower Kid jumping forward like that . . . perfectly out of line.

Nestle in to your dance with your shadow this Samhain, even if only in play with candles and masks.  It helps keep you fresh, and is like Direct Priority Delivery from your unconscious.  What shadows do your masks cast within you?  How do you cast the spell of your own Shadow beautifully outward like The Sun card above?  How can your Shadow be like a cashmere sweater?  How do you dance with your Shadow?

May you lead your Shadow well in the dance . . . as you can’t help but wear it.

All similar, each unique.

~ THE END ~

Happy Tarot Samhain BlogHopping!

May your life be a place where masks are colorful and enlivening,

a place where masks fall away as naturally as autumnal leaves,

a place where you are always in the season.

May your life be as natural a place as the snake his skin shedded, the snake his skins not missed.

BOO!  Jordan . . . Happy Samhain!  

HEY!, Where’s my candy?!!!!  

OH funny . . . just realized my street address is 110 now in a different city 20 years later.

Go 110!

Best to you Shadow-Unmasking new life into your journey as you explore the Samhain series of TarotBlogHops!  Click here to magically shed the skin of this blog so it becomes another shadow and Carolyn Cushing’s Art Of Change Tarot is featured.

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Tarot~Mabon~BlogHop~Mystereum Mead Made

Tarot~Mabon~BlogHop~Mystereum Mead Made

Welcome TarotBlogHoppers from Kerry Ardilla’s Neopagan Priestess blog! 

Welcome to this Tarothoppin’ segment along your TarotBlogHop dance of “Mabon ~ The Power of Transformation.”

Tarot ~ Mabon ~ Mystereum Mead Made

Power your life’s firmament fermenting Tarot mead

What serves as your Tool of Transformation? What makes your grapes and honey turn to mead?
~ Turbo read the Majors card by card in verse as a “Mystereum Mabon Poem of Transformation Of How Dreams Actively Come Into Being”

Mead Making Topic: Is Marriage Like The Confluence of Getting A Ticket Together, Making Honey, and Then Fermenting Mead With It?

Try to read the entirety without seeing the card at the first part of each line . . .

Try to mead the following without seeing the first card speaking each line . . .

The Fool: On a whim I trusted myself without explanation, feeling that reasons were just damn unreasonable fluff
The Magician: and as I stepped into nothingness, new ground formed right under my feet
The High Priestess: as form was given to the formless
The Empress: a quizzled and wild-eyed smile coming to full term
The Emperor: as my vision spread out across such expansive beauty
The Hierophant: in the majestic and inspiring down-to-earth-spirit of painters’ sunlit skies thick with clouds
The Lovers: and I turned to pause. That whim was like another’s eyes brightening mine, and there she was
The Chariot: singin’ Doo Waa Ditty Diity Don’t Ditty Deet
Justice: yet, even the loud music pressing the foot further and was a balanced scale of a 
The Hermit: silent man in uniform with intense gaze
The Wheel: “Uh hem.  You’ll need to pay this by next Tuesday, or appear in court as it says.
Strength: We turn again, don’t we?, with the power of our natural voices to each other in the present. BWAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. WhatEV. You? Me? Should we pay the ticket or the toll man?
The Hanged Man: Neh, that would be a clear waste of time floating around with either of THEM.
Death: NEW ROAD! That tree’s cool. Turn left!
Temperance: Where are we really going? We’re in this wonderfully deeply . . .
The Devil: Oh YEAH! Let’s have sex behind every tree in the forest!
The Tower: And, our worlds exploding altered the very fabric of the forest as we crashed down heaving together
The Star: to look up at that single first night light making wishes never smoking hope and diggin’ our celestial groove so
The Moon: that only we each knew inside, smiling at each other with our newly formed secrets
The Sun: knowing that we were behind on our “every tree” deadline as the sun would come up soon enough and call time though it didn’t stop our conversation,
Judgment: only re-introduced us to the magic of twilight as we resurrected from our newly humidified forest to emerge with most of our clothes
The World: and conquer the world with tired and knowing smiles.  

The washer and dryer aren’t what steal that other sock are they?

Wands: Our energies developed
Cups: a nourishing fulfillment
Pentacles: that we began to solidly base things on
Swords: where all the elements came together to temper and quench us in masterful communication, and we cut off looking for the sock.

~ THE END ~

All similar, each unique.

How does YOUR Tarot make the honey-ambrosia of the mead of the fermenting fun of a road trip of a story?

Happy Tarot Mabon Meading where Merry Meet Mabon’s to Merry Mead!  Jordan

Best to you painting new life into your journey as you explore the Mabon series of TarotBlogHops!  Click here to  POOF yourself right to the next TarotBlogHop stop at Sungoddess Tarot’s blog.

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Tarot. Lammas. Pentacles. A Magnetic Fruit

Welcome

to this Tarothoppin’ segment from Tarot by Arwen’s blog along your Lammas TarotBlogHop dance of Pentacles: The Fruits of Harvest.

And, thinking about Pentacles and the fruits of harvest . . . a magnetic fruit came to me . . .

A Solid Big Fruit

As I sit here in my desert Oasis in New Mexico, USA thinking about Lammas and harvest, the fruits of harvest, Pentacles, Pentacles: The Fruits of the Harvest, I forget my oasis on my deck above my courtyard where I am shaded under my apple tree. . .
Yes, the tree is heavy with fruit, as is the pear tree near,
yet another idea wants to come through, a different kind of clear idea,
a different Pentacle, a differerent kind of fruits of the harvest . . .
and my mind wanders off into the imagined desert outside the city-oasis, as the apple tree shades me,
and I look up at all the apples.

I imagine

that the desert may be the ultimate reaper, always reaping, though I also imagine a field of harvesters harvesting in the bean fields that used to be right here, and a feast afterwards, and that is when I felt it, a different fruit of the harvest, a magnetic one!
This fruit danced its way into being as the heart of a solid idea, solidly birthing its qualities, and moreso renewing an awareness, a primary awareness of thanks for the harvest . . . and of something larger.

You see,

a whole apple tree of potentiality lives in the apple seed. In a field of barley the ancient Egyptians felt living sustenance, which by the way feeds in to their hieroglyph for “Fabric”.  The “fabric” hieroglyph is 4 pairs of barley stalks, 4 pairs of barley stalks leaning together in pairs all on common ground. . .like the 4-pillared golden symbol below this Knight . . .

(c) 2010 Jordan Hoggard

And, therein is the solidly magnetic idea that renews my awareness, that draws me in another direction of fruit harvested.  The magical twilight of the space between each of us that bring any two or more of us into relationship . . . is MAGNETIZED BY THE HARVEST to bring together and enhance and strengthen the magnetic and solid fruits of the harvest that are us in . . . COMMUNITY!!!

Community

is solidly magnetized by the harvest to be present and visible, resonating fully during the harvest.  Like the visual story of meaning living in any hieroglyph like the whole apple tree present in the inner infinity of potentiality of the seed . . . Like the visual story of meaning living in the hieroglyph for “fabric” is magnetized by the harvest to gather together community . . . Communities are Pentacles-level solid fruits magnetized together by the harvest.
A community and the harvest inner-outer mirror one another.  Inner-outer mirroring?  Inner-outer mirroring and the always ripe number 9, and 9 of Pentacles come to mind for a coming harvest feast’s sweet dessert.
So, as you hop through fruits of the harvest with Pentacles in mind, enjoy this video about literal inner-outer mirroring with the 9 of Pentacles.
Enjoy the solid magnet-mirror living within the 9 of Pentacles.  Best to it folding over into the solid fruits of your harvest in your community of self, with others, with Nature!
Hop back by any time you have a Tarot appetite and want an impromptu feast.  TarotBlogHop along next to Joanna Ong’s TarotBlogHop blog!
Here is a Master List link in case you encounter a broken link along your TarotBlogHop.  Click it if you find a broken link, and you will be able to hop right back on the TarotBlogHop track and keep going.

(c) 2012 Jordan Hoggard

All images (c) 2010 Jordan Hoggard

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As The Gargoyles Sleep, Celebrate The Sunrise

Welcome along your TarotBlogHop from TABI Tarot!

 

As The Gargoyles Sleep, Celebrate The Sunrise

Litha and Midsummer and Tarot.

Enjoy this Tarot spread and poem to celebrate the sunrise at Midsummer.  Psssst.  Litha told me Lilith made me do it.

The Vampire’s Offspring

juvenilis puerilis vanitas ostentatio jactatio

Ours is not a lot to be feared.  The dragon is a necessary beast.

Feel your safety on your holy ground.

Suckle

on the myth of your goodness

in those places you hold sacred,

while I suckle

on the rest of humanity.

We do not follow you to those places

as we cannot

do those things which are conquerable,

and simply cannot bear those places where you sing.

Those places do not protect you.

Enslaved gargoyles,

traitors to us lest their unknowing feet

entrained in those stone shoes that you fashioned,

and an occasional bellringer stroking them

as they drone high above your path,

where the wind is stronger than the scent of your life to remind them,

keep us circling above,

intent on your storied portals that are not your saints,

they are lists of the best tasting among you.

        Angels.  You misname them.

        They are simply prettier to you

than their gargoyle siblings

held down by those enslaving prisonshoes of stone

that you call cathedrals.

You should know,

there have been sly ones among you.

Those tricky Nassenes for instance,

knowing that in our vanity we will not touch our young,

as we, too, find them abominable,

stole away with nine of them,

worshipping them as they grew,

carrot-leading them:

    You are perfect as you are . . .

    Grow strong not beautiful . . .

    Help keep us safe . . .

    Up there you can see eternity.    Live up there on the stone city peak . . .

    Turn to stone, it is strong . . .

Ignorant of their heritage,

of their eventual grace and stealth and eternity,

they were tricked-taught to perceive a strength and power

in your piles of stone conveniently shaped, and forget their own.

Behold Us!

We are strong and beautiful.

Can you resist us?

Gaze into our eyes and see inside your universe.

Touch our skin of winter,

and feel the heat of your passion

pulsing in the silence of our bodies.

Peeking through the wonder piquing,

can you resist us,

knowing that all we want

is simply your entire life for just a moment?

Your silent gargoyle guardians sometimes stir

inside their stoney sleep

still unborn into a life

where they would eventually die into their own eternity.

They lie dormant far above you,

and nightly we circle.

Nightly the bellringer.

Nightly they stir far above you.

It is not fire or lightning

that occasionally rips the towers from your cathedrals.

Keep eating your garlic.

We will help you stop sinning more quickly

if you are spiced up a bit.

~ Jordan Hoggard

Best to you having enjoyed this scenic overlook along your TarotBlogHop!

Your next Hopstop to enjoy is Morgan Eckstein’s “Gleamings From The Dawn

EXPRESS TAROTBLOGHOP TICKET: If you hit a missing link along your TarotBlogHop, you can get back on the bloghop from this master list.  TarotBlogHop Master List, June 2012. 

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All images and text (c) 2012 Jordan Hoggard.  All rights reserved.

 
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Posted by on June 21, 2012 in Movie Time, Tarot BlogHop

 

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Beltane Tarot ~ The Fire That Tends To All

Welcome along your TarotBlogHop from the great Hopstop Beauty~History~Magic blog of Claire-Marie Le Normand 

The Tarot Fire Tends To All

Beltane and Tarot. For this Beltane TarotBlogHop segment the idea of playing with fire like a simple and important dance through Tarot lit me up. Wands are a fire that require no fuel. Well, maybe they require perception and experience, the tree in the forest thing, so having them actively speak to you as a gift to enhance your Beltane experience felt to strike chords to resonate with this middle place, or cross-quarter time, between Ostara and Midsummer in The Wheel of the Year.  The warmth of action in middle times along the way feels important to nurture like doing a simple dance around a campfire.  It feels more important to dance without reason, even simply, than to not dance at all, and the Wands stepped up.  To paraphrase Osho, the person who can laugh without reason has gone either gone completely mad or has found their path to enlightenment. With the Wands, dance feels to be like laughter in this regard.  So, dance for no reason . . . and run like hell if you see a pair of doods in white coats approaching. ;-)  Dance isn’t crazy. It’s crazy not to, especially around a Beltane fire.

Dance feels to be one of those things like imagination that can expansively tend to all in a single step like laughter, like the inspiration present in a single, imaginative idea.  Feel like having a Wand-thought?  As we dance we share the flow of the energy of our inner fire with the community fire.  Wandy dancing is a beautiful, shared gift, a reflective and meditative, lifeful gift.  Dance with Wands’ eternal fire.  That dance enhancing the energy in the world feels to tend to all.

So, today I commissioned some Tarot in the Land of Mystereum Wands cards to express the dance of their energetic voices, to warmly speak to you in celebration of your fire.   Dance around the Beltane fire as you please as they fill the air with energy and voice.  May their voices fully welcome you to this Beltane, TarotBlogHop, scenic overlook.  May their voices play for your dance, your fire that tends to all with the rockin’ value of you, effortlessly.  Imagine your life, your way.  The cards are there for you.

Tarot Wands.  Fires that one by one tend to all.  So, let the cards play the instruments of their voices as your Beltane dance begins.

The Wheel ~

Welcome to The Wheel!  Welcome to Your Wheel! Hop on. Find a Ferris Wheel or a merry-go-round, or a sacred fire to dance around! They are together here. Settle in and enjoy the ride. Notice the scenery as we all slowly go round and round, our energy emanating for the community fire to breathe. As you go around, notice what you saw before in a new way each time you see it again. Things may change a little or a lot each round.  Simply notice them and be considerate of their life force. The things you experience are yours to feel.  Develop them as you see fit. Let them tend to time.

Ace of Wands ~

I love new life.  I taught priests and master builders of old how to set their sacred staff to locate the place of a building or meeting space. They used the sacred staff called the omphallos to set and seed the making of a place.  I feel that place-making is important. I love to locate a building. I love to locate a space. I get excited when I locate a place to play! My favorite thing is to make a place for a set of ideas! Yesterday, in preparation for Beltane, I made a sacred wand and let it gift and make a place, a sacred place on the earth to give today’s fire a welcoming home.

10 of Wands ~

I love the energetic balance that you show in your courage along your journey! I love the energy of your agility.  I love your strong balance with all you carry! I love that you are able to balance your energies so well that you learn how to tow everything with the simple grace of your own body!  Nothing more. Nothing less. May you play with weighty things as easily as planets orbiting the sun. May you play with weighty things as easily as fire lights up the Idea Solar System in your eyes.

King of Wands ~

I am the King of Wands. Charismatic leadership is within you and flows from you. Your flow has great influence. Feel that.  I love that now is often the best time to get done what needs to be done.  I love that what needs to get done will get done! I love that once complete, everyone will be enthusiastic about the results.  On this Beltane and every Beltane I gift you complete energies to be able to act in the moment and dance to build vibrant life throughout your kingdom and the Your Royal Court of You. Your charisma is a fire-gift, an energy from which all can benefit.

Fire-starter Quotes

to sprinkle magic from Your Magician on the fire of your imagination:

Grab your fave Mag card partner to dance with as you read them . . .

Friendship is a fire that requires no fuel. ~ Japanese proverb

The biggest room in the world is the room for improvement. ~ Japanese proverb

Light today with tomorrow. ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The most courageous act is still to think for yourself. ~ Coco Chanel

A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are for. ~ John A. Shed

Strength makes it more natural to be gentle, positive confidence, to be open. ~ Jordan Hoggard

Best to you having enjoyed this scenic overlook along your TarotBlogHop.  Your next Hopstop to enjoy is the Rose Red Tarot blog, Rose Red’s Tarot Home!

EXPRESS TAROTBLOGHOP TICKET: If you hit a missing link along your TarotBlogHop, you can get back on the bloghop from this master list.  TarotBlogHop Master List, May 2012. 

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Tarot~Ostara~The TarOstara Twilight Bridge

Welcome TarotBlogHoppers from Lisa Frideborg Lloyd’s Tarotize site! 

Welcome to this Tarothoppin’ segment along your TarotBlogHop dance of “Ostara: Painting the journey with new life.”

Tarot ~ Ostara: The TarOstara Twilight Bridge

Paint Your Journey With New Life

Chill here a little, and experience . . . Tarot and Ostara AS The TarOstara Twilight Bridge.

Twilight, the magical space of dusk and dawn, the magical spaces between night and day, between day and night.  Twilight dawn, twilight dusk, each day the magical twilight twice.

Yet on one day each year, on the TarOstara Twilight Bridge, there is magical twilight thrice. Dawn and Dusk, and the Psychic Synapse in between.  On Ostara visualize Ostara itself as a whole day of a Big Twilight Dawn as Winter’s night wakes from sleep into this Spring day. Visualize a dream still real and pulsing, morning-stretching, orbiting into memory. Visualize the awake-dream of Spring, longer daylight no longer a dream-time rumination, as a day is born partnered in a common communion dance with one night. Neither leads, neither follows. They are equal, night outstretching its arms of dreams as perennial noses poke-paint into the receptive hands of the day.

On Ostara from winter dream, from night-time intuition, Spring wakes across the magical twilight thrice across the TarOstara Twilight Bridge. Was winter a dream? Spring a present in night’s dream come true?

Just on the other side of this Ostara bridge of a single day, just on the other side of this Ostara place between, where the Twin Stars of the day and night dance-partners pause, pause leading, pause following to breathe across this bridge . . . they dance across the Psychic Synapse as the life-breath of this bridge where day and night are in balance, each a bridge support.

Day and Night Paint

Paint in the day and night as equal times, presently prescient remembrances equal in span.

Paint in the day and night as equal times, presciently present remembrances equal in span.

Breathe as you cross this annual bridge-time, the place of Nature’s Psychic Synapse.  Breathe across the magical TarOstara Twilight Bridge, as only today on Ostara does this bridge appear.  This magical TarOstara Twilight Bridge has quite a welcoming crew for you. As Winter stirs its depthful sleep to paint perennial Spring, to paint in the magical twilight dusk toward night, the magical twilight dawn toward day . . . turn and dance-paint with magical twilight all day on Ostara as you journey, as you magically move across the time of the TarOstara Twilight Bridge.

Noses Poke Up

Noses poke up in the garden canvas of Mama Gaia. They paint strokes as they subtly crown through their earth, as they, too, cross the time of the TarOstara Twilight Bridge. Flower noses paint a garden one by one as they cascade forward past to paint the life-journey with new life straight from Mama Gaia’s Garden.

~ Move from meditating the focus in your night to contemplating it in the day. Take a few aspirating breaths to shine some light on your focus.

Just near the middle of this day’s journey, we can realize the TarOstara Twilight Bridge is a drawbridge of sorts, a drawbridge seen always open in the middle when down, and only appears one day each year.  It has this place in the middle much like the neural Fool-step of a synapse, much like our own, inner space-between synapses that bid greeting one living nerve to another, painting the journey with new life, one . . . little . . . magical . . .neural . . .twilight bridge at a time.

Nature’s 10th House?

Maybe this bridge is like Nature’s astrological 10th House public face.  Populating its welcoming crew . . . note that Neptune supports the depth of the night side on the left. And, in its own unique place 1 degree away all the way across, Mercury encompasses all very mercurially to bring the day forth agile in both mood and motion. There are also signs that look like cards.  Well, they ARE cards.  The High Priestess stands at the door from night looking IN to you as center.  The Hierophant sits IN the center at the door to day looking OUT to send you forth. Feeling-sense listen closely as you cascade through these cards. Feelingsense hear their harmonizing voice as they sing together across the Psychic Synapse, the place between.  Do they sing, “Nature is Psychic” across this synapse?  The High Priestess embrace-forms Neptune to herald the faraway night-sky sun of The Star.  The Hierophant is further braced to move forward with The Sun playfully peeking through Mercury.  And, the signposts in the middle, like French Surrealist aphorism signposts all dressed up but with no supports . . . this is the magical suspension of the space between of the Psychic Synapse.

The TarOstara Twilight Bridge and Psychic Synapse  (c) 2012 Jordan Hoggard

The TarOstara Twilight Bridge and Psychic Synapse
(c) 2012 Jordan Hoggard

The Psychic Synapse

First, we see the small one, the shooting star of inception that is The Magician.  Then, unfocusing to share Self with the Universe, the larger, The Lovers.  And, THEN what is so big and SO there we can’t see it comes into focus. The Moon!  Seeing a New Moon Full?  That’s ridiculous!  Well, not here it isn’t.  It’s a bit of the Psychic Synapse magic at work.  Across this magical TarOstara Twilight Bridge we can shine forward with one another painting our journey with new life.  Neptune stands with The Star deep in the night sky silences.  Mercury stands with The Sun brightly peeking through it to illuminate and communicate the coming longer light scenes.  And, the Psychic Synapse begs one to Fool-look up . . .  to Fool-look up and magically fire across it like the living impulse nerve to nerve to feel what is so big and so there you can’t see it. . . until you do of course.  It is The MOON so big and so there all the time, New OR Full.  And, here is Ostara!  Here is the TarOstara Twilight Bridge!  Meditate the night body of the moon with no light of its own, a dark body in the night of space, as it fully reflects the sun’s light.  Does a Full Moon present our sun a reference to a night-sky Twin Star sibling in the image of The Star?  Something magical about that thought today on this Ostara Day of the Psychic Synapse between the length of the night and the day.  I’ll simply enjoy my hmmmmmm on the TarOstara Twilight Bridge and leave it at that.  What magical thoughts Psychic Synapse to you today?

So, in closing . . .

All similar, each unique.

Day and night are equal today, and still day and night, similar and unique . . . And today, we can magically journey over the Psychic Synapse of the TarOstara Twilight Bridge.

May we perennially poke-paint our noses on the canvas of Mama Gaia’s Garden.

Today, may we each be balanced pairs always whole and complete, always never finished painting our journey with new life.

Happy TarOstara Psychic Synapsing!,  Jordan

Best to you painting new life into your journey as you explore the Ostara series of TarotBlogHops!  Click here to Psychic Synapse POOF yourself right to the next TarotBlogHop stop at  Zanna Star’s Tarot Notes Major and Minor blog.

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