Some say the attraction of Tarot is the combination of being able to carry a huge art collection in your pocket or handbag, and the lure of tapping into something bigger than yourself. Some say it is the bridge between the mundane and the sublime. Some say it’s the immediacy of contemplation and meditation: pull out a card, look, and be withdrawn from daily life for a moment.
I’ve got to agree with almost everything here.
I find it difficult to say what I like about Tarot. What I have said or paraphrased above, has said almost everything that I’ve said myself, but what it really is for me and what I manage to say are two different things.
It is a wonder and a marvel how small a Tarot deck is, for the massive art collection it is (imagine trying to hang 78 canvasses in a small house, then multiply that by eighty!). It is a wonder and a marvel how they work. It is a wonder and a marvel how they enlighten and nurture. It is a wonder and a marvel how even when I feel as if I might have lost my ability to walk between dimensions, Tarot can take me there at any time, no worries.
Tarot-space is Nisaba-space.
I couldn’t imagine life without it, even if there are days when I never pick up a deck. On such days, I’m still in Tarot-space, somehow.
I am a walker-between-worlds, as RJ Stewart might have said. I flip in and out of my body fairly easily. Yesterday I had coffee at my favourite cafe where my Pet Waitress works, and I looked out the windows to a massive Norfolk Island Pine that is gradually dying off. It is still fairly green – I don’t think anyone else has noticed that it is beginning to die.
But I sat there waiting for my coffee, seeing the massive, powerful, brilliant aura that the tree still has, and as I watched its energy blazing around it, I knew with a sadness how much stronger and more brilliant still its aura must have been when it was younger and not dying, and even younger still, and actively growing.
Tarot allows me to see the world like this. Nothing is mundane – everything has its own spiritual reality enfolded around its physical reality. And no, I did not pull a card for the tree. Doing so now, I have pulled the Ten Cups. This is somehow fitting. The tree is within sight of the Pacific Ocean, and a few metres from it, probably even over some of its feeder-roots, is a paved poolside area with little fountains that local and tourist children traditionally play in.
A perfect card for a perfect tree, because even though the tree is dying it is a perfect tree. And when it is dead it will still be perfect, and its timbers will be perfect also.
I have just decided that this afternoon I will go back to that tree, and pick up some of its dead, fallen leaves, to keep as a token of this awareness of the tree that I have just had. Life is a wonderful thing. And Tarot and life are inseparable.