A charming, witty, pleasant, and elegant enticement?
. . . such as a present opened from the mouth of a vampire?
Comfortabilty with your earthly desires. Mind that the omissions of inhibitions enslave as easily as the tantrums of excess.
(c) 2010 Jordan Hoggard Her fully grounded out-of-body experience flying as high as her roots go deep
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!
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.”
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. . . .
(c) 1992 Jordan Hoggard
XIX The Sun (c) 2010 Jordan Hoggard
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.
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
Mystereum Card Back (c) 2010 Jordan Hoggard
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
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!
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.
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.
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 Land of Mystereum Wheel. (c) 2010 Jordan Hoggard
The Land of Mystereum Ace of Wands. (c) 2010 Jordan Hoggard
The Land of Mystereum 10 of Wands. (c) 2010 Jordan Hoggard
The Land of Mystereum King of Wands. (c) 2010 Jordan Hoggard
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
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.
Have some fun with today’s spread theme. Play Psychic Dodgeball. Your are on the Necessary Nuance team.
Play against the Necessary Nuisance team. Hit ‘em hard with lotsa laughter!
“Strong enough to be gentle.” ~Jordan Hoggard
I am doing 2 spreads today as tomorrow is the TarotBlogHop, and I do not want to do anything other than have it featured clearly on my blog tomorrow. Enjoy today’s bonus spread for tomorrow’s difference.
“Today is the bonus to fund tomorrow’s difference.” ~ Jordan Hoggard
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 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.
Starting “Tarot Turning My Infinity Into Eight” I corralled myself to stand and deliver for this blog by drawing two cards, and having a video come to mind . . . all of which of course will probably not cascade into this blog LOL. LOL? Why is that funny? ‘Cause, like in theatre, the warm-up is often not a part of the performance! And, it’s often a fun part of the dance that I didn’t want you to miss out on. Sometimes, it is more important to simply GET started than express the reason why you did. Reasons can be unreasonable, often a kind of looking back. And, in fact reasons can seriously and specifically get in the way. If you look at ‘em too much you may bump into stuff rather than dancing forward. Minding that reasons are unreasonable, I mind that form follows priority, and as well there are things that come to mind that simply do. Like the 10 of Swords, Strength, and a video!
10 of Swords ~ Release!! Rock bottom is a dang strong place to stand, stomp your feet, dance-stomp your feet, and step up to smile in and continue the TarotBlogHop dance!
Strength ~ VIII or XI depending on how you bust a move n shake it! ~ Working the power of your natural (inner animal [totem]) voice. What’s yours?!!
Video in the warm-up here.
And, things tend to work in sequence, huh?
Tarot Turning My Infinity Into Eight
How can I be the best candle? I can be the best candle by providing a voice of making nebulous things more clear in effective ways for people. Is it simply my 10th House Neptune and Mercury conjunct, Neptunian boundaryless concepts that I down-to-the-earth ground (ground as a verb)? Maybe it is not that at all. Maybe it is only that? Maybe that is simply one of my many Path-Candlelarios in the dark, or bag-alarios as I call ‘em here in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA that silver-night-line-the-path of the psychic paper-bags-with-unseen-candle lights that naturally support me in my teaching? And, astrologically, what does THAT mean?!! Neptune and Mercury conjunct? Whatsa conjunct mean?!! Makes like conjunction junction what’s your function? In my case, it means . . . two things that taste great together . . that you might not have thought of putting together.
My brand of best-candle conjunction?
Hookin’ up boundaryless concepts to specific and actionable things, and then making effective actions out of things that were initially formless.
Tarot Turning My Infinity Into Eight
I can be the best candle by . . .
I see with cat’s ears. What does that mean? Like a cat focused on you that hears something else, they simply turn an ear, and they literally see a whole world behind them with that ear without ever turning their focus away from you. And then, they still have another eye of an ear left if they need. I experience the world that way. I see with cat’s ears. My 6th sense, my psychic abilities, my personal brand of psychic abilities . . . my 5 senses seamlessly synchromesh into a 6th sense that informs me. That is simply my way. And, my quality of seeing with cat’s ears comes with a wonderful affect. It gives me the gift of a personal candle lit not only to be able to see things in the dark . . . to also see things differently in the dark.
Seeing with cat’s ears gives me a gift to be able to see differently into the dark? Why is this a gift? If Seeing-With-Cat’s-Ears gifts me the ability to also find unlit candles in the dark, it also gifts me the ability to see unlit candles for both myself and for others. Personally, I find this to be DISCOVERY on steroids, and also quite useful. I find it to be quite normal. And, in my experience the things I find quite normal are usually far from that. My candle is lit to bring others to allow them to find their own, unlit candles in their own dark. My candle is lit to help discover others’ unlit candles in the dark as their own, unseen gifts, to find their own, inner strengths. And, your inner strengths can be trained once you light them up, and/or simply find them in the dark as available for later.
Seeing with cat’s ears . . . I help to discover others’ unlit candles in the dark. I can be a better candle by making my “normal” experience of the boundarylessness of inifinity into an eight. What does that mean?
I can be the best candle by making ithe infinity I cat’s-ear-see specific.
I can be the best candle by helping others to focus in to discover their personal, nebulous things. To work with daydreaming or those things they are naturally drawn to yet then turn away from as they might feel they are a waste time . . . as, I bet in a lot of cases . . . they are “normally” and naturally turning themselves towards something. And, maybe they turn off of them when . . . uh hem . . . . allegedly nothing gets done. . . and make these “naturally turned towards things” into . . . something specific and usable and effective for them that . . . well . . . naturally resonates with them with ease. Then, there is also rest and relief, from one thing and another in the creative process. What do YOU hear? What actually makes the cut after the curtain goes up? We can go into that another time.
I can be a better candle by taking the elevator Muzak of Nothingness to show people how to apply that quality in effective ways in their lives.
I can be a better candle by providing my gift of making unseen things real, to help others find their nascent gifts, the ones that are asleep or unseen, and that found, allow them to brightly wake themselves up further on their path.
I can be the best candle by helping others find their unlit candles in the dark, and to show them how to light them!
In closing I can be a better candle and my best candle by consciously directing my teaching and Tarot readings to help others learn and teach themselves by more directly focusing on their defocused times . . . and find the gifts that hide in plain and silent sight for them to continually discover and utilize effectively. Things hiding in plain sight, unlit candles in the dark can be ROCKIN’!! And, a video musica seque towards the end for you that . . . I EVEN have no words other than YES! . . . and Koan-Ciding . . . Go to Kareena’s blog, and come back and watch this for a get-ya-going dancefloor sound experience for you!
On to the next TarotBlogHop! May these all be similar, may they each be unique, and may each of them open your eyes and allow you to better find your unlit candles in the dark. Unlit candles in the dark. Discover. Light. . . . May your unlit candles, found and lit, further inspire your life!
) 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. 
