firemaiden
I miss the tarot, that's something new. I'm newly married and very happy ... I don't have the time anymore to sit by myself with my cards and immerse myself in the magical mysterious world. When I first encountered the tarot, I lived in dark and cold Berlin, grey Berlin... did I mention it was very dark ? Hardly any sunlight all winter. Did I mention the cold ? You didn't want to go outside. Not even to buy cream for the coffee, if all I had left in the fridge was coffee. So it was easy to fall inside the sunny colorful world of a box with 78 pretty pictures.
No, no, they were never just 78 pretty pictures in a box. They were 78 pretty pictures in a box that moved and talked if you put them down random ways. The combination of images, the stunning coincidences sometimes so incredibly literal --- what do I need to do today ? -- the Renaissance tarot showed me a that wonderful recreation of the girl pouring milk. Aha ! I told you I needed to buy cream for the coffee -- stuff like that. For an aetheist like moi-même, the encounter with this little coincidences was freaky cool.
Then the itch to read evolved, very slowly. At first it was OUT OF THE QUESTION, then little by little, I ventured little interpretations in Your Readings, then the Spoof Readings began, where I explained that the readings were pretty much guaranteed to make no sense, but I would do them anyway, as a joke. And many of you said they actually made some kind of sense, so I started to sort of take the tarot seriously...
Then after thousands of posts on AT, and the ravenous purchase of over 50 decks, and hundreds of readings -- eventually the cards turned back into flat cardboard pieces with nothing to say except "I look like a stupid cartoon" and the books I so feverishly devoured on tarot -- now, after one sentence made me so horribly bored, I wanted to throw them across the room. Bo-ring ...
Now it is cold and dark again, and I am in France, I sort of miss that period where the pictures were so talkative. The urge is creeping up to take a few out of the box and let them talk. Anyone know what I'm talking about ?
No, no, they were never just 78 pretty pictures in a box. They were 78 pretty pictures in a box that moved and talked if you put them down random ways. The combination of images, the stunning coincidences sometimes so incredibly literal --- what do I need to do today ? -- the Renaissance tarot showed me a that wonderful recreation of the girl pouring milk. Aha ! I told you I needed to buy cream for the coffee -- stuff like that. For an aetheist like moi-même, the encounter with this little coincidences was freaky cool.
Then the itch to read evolved, very slowly. At first it was OUT OF THE QUESTION, then little by little, I ventured little interpretations in Your Readings, then the Spoof Readings began, where I explained that the readings were pretty much guaranteed to make no sense, but I would do them anyway, as a joke. And many of you said they actually made some kind of sense, so I started to sort of take the tarot seriously...
Then after thousands of posts on AT, and the ravenous purchase of over 50 decks, and hundreds of readings -- eventually the cards turned back into flat cardboard pieces with nothing to say except "I look like a stupid cartoon" and the books I so feverishly devoured on tarot -- now, after one sentence made me so horribly bored, I wanted to throw them across the room. Bo-ring ...
Now it is cold and dark again, and I am in France, I sort of miss that period where the pictures were so talkative. The urge is creeping up to take a few out of the box and let them talk. Anyone know what I'm talking about ?
sometimes things becomes mundane, you take a break and the colours and light are back again shining brightly