Rust Rainbow Robyn BeattieDusk rain on oil slick

Heavens the street at our feet.

Which sky hosts, you, me?

All of last week I held the Rider Waite Smith Ten of Cups image in my mind, that sunny, happy image of a young couple with arms upraised, children linked in centrifugal spin of dance, ten full cups arranged along rainbow’s arc in the sky. Foraging for today’s Haiku in the week’s lived imagery, I find a night version of the Ten of Cups (see last week’s prompt).

Window Rainbow slick Robyn BeattieOne rainy evening this week, sated with work, my husband fell asleep early leaving an eager Husky prancing at my feet. I kissed my husband, donned a jacket and headed out into mistfall to circle the Bay. Within seconds, I heard the shrilling of the rusted gate we leave unfixed as an incoming/outgoing warning system. In sweatshirts and jeans, my two boys raced towards me, barefoot, to jostle for first hug as only brothers can do, hips colliding, knocking the breath out of me. There’s no convincing them into shoes so off we go, dodging the droll serpentine swaths of snails sharing the sidewalk with us.

The boys lag behind, taking care to stop when I stop to let the dog scour the under shrubbery for the day’s scents. I soon realize they are decidedly keeping their distance, keeping me out of earshot. They stop and spar—but not in earnest, elder passing on a few martial arts moves to the younger. At my feet I find the rainbow halo of an oil slick lit by streetlamp and rain.

I am so blessedly happy. I turn my back to the boys, breathe deep, and walk on, thinking about what part of us might be reflected unexpectedly in some sky somewhere just as this night rainbow appears here at my feet–unbidden–made of castaway oil and sweet rain.

 

Ace of Disks Robyn BeattieTuesday’s Prompt: The Ace of Disks

We move on today to the Suit of Disks…we will be steeped in disks for the next eleven weeks. What is your relationship to Earth, to belongings, to home and hearth? Aces, anchoring at the root of each suit, are meant to remind us of gifts or blessings we currently possess or may wish to open our heart, mind, body, and soul to receiving.

In the Rider Waite Smith version of the Ace of Disks, I love the hand emerging from cloud holding that golden orb. “Here,” it seems to say, “take this gift!” Eden Gray (A Complete Guide to the Tarot) writes that this Ace has to do with “counterbalanced power,” “eternal synthesis,” and the “whole of the universe visible.” In this card, we are poised inside the garden looking out of arbored hedge entrance, mountains in the distance. “Gold, pleasure,” and “beauty” are a few more things attributed here. Rachel Pollack (78 Degrees of Wisdom) writes about the way the Earth “bears its own magic” in relation to this card.

And of course, I love equally if not a touch more, the Thoth version of the Ace of Disks with its soothing greens and browns gracing the spiral montage Lady Frieda Harris makes of great feathered wings and growth rings of trees.

Heart Angel TaniaWhich gardens have you created against or in favor of the wildness or wilderness of your past or you family’s traditions? Which garden would you like to dwell in now? Where do you best connect with nature?

 What is the “gold” in your present life? Is there a gift in your present surroundings you have overlooked? How could you open your heart to receiving? Is there a person/institution/situation in your life holding out a metaphorical golden orb for you to take?

Feel free to respond in comments here or to join the conversation at Tarot Tuesday’s Facebook page to share your word or image response.

Photos in this post are by my poetry movie collaborator Robyn Beattie; the one pencil drawing above is one I made while visiting her last month. I’m always struck by synchronicity when we work together; I don’t know if Robyn realized the image at the top of this post mimics the imagery in the heart angel–she sent these selections to me after I returned to San Diego. What a blessing and a privilege to play and work together…thank you Robyn, I love the rich field of your imagery, and you, so much.

 

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