nisaba
From the blog:-
Today, after a period of laziness, I'll be looking at Granny Jones' interpretation of the Star. Always a hopeful card, this image is a particularly beautiful one in this deck, too, at least in my opinion. Caveat: beauty is never skin-deep or a matter of polished artwork - prettiness is. And I've never accused this deck of being pretty.
Granny is looking out a window framed in solid, reliable stone blocks. It is night, and a blazing star shines like a beacon over Richmond, Tasmania, instantly recognisable by the arched bridge over the river and the church. Rebecca Jones' fine sense of place and her manifest love for her locale and the people of her community shines out of almost every card in the deck, as it does in this one.
Someone with second sight once saw her sitting behind me years ago, and described her as "having a bowling-club hairstyle". He was a bit inchoate - he saw the grey bun that peeps out from under her pilgrim's hat in this image. And she is a pilgrim: wandering through her community, through her deck and through the Otherworld simultaneously at all times.
Look at the church: at a time of night when, sadly, all Australian churches are locked up and dark, this one has its door open wide and a warm, orange glow of welcoming light and warmth shining from the doorway and windows. Spirituality isn't a Sunday Thing, nor even a nine-to-five thing. The church of Granny's imagining, the church that truly ministers to the soul, is open at all times. And notice the total lack of a cross on the spire? This same church doesn't differentiate between Christian and non-Christian, or even believers and agnostics: this same church offers welcome, comfort and acceptance to all comers, no matter what they believe or don't believe.
The trees on the far hill, blurred by distance, look almost like ragged people, cloaked-up humans struggling to reach the warmth. Outlined against the indigo sky, they approach hesitantly, in a small family group, looking for acceptance and perhaps charity. They need hope for the future, a reason to keep moving forwards through the night. And the warmth of the open church offers them just that.
Over the whole scene, Granny Jones, one of the most loving people in creation, smiles benignly. Her personal warmth fills her cottage and spills out her stone window, meeting the warmth of the church halfway. You want hope for the future, she suggests, then you need to meet it on its own terms, turn your face towards it, make the first move.
And if you do that, you cannot fail to find your own guiding light, your own comet, your own divine star of guidance lighting the road before your feet and hovering above the correct path for you to take in life.
Today, after a period of laziness, I'll be looking at Granny Jones' interpretation of the Star. Always a hopeful card, this image is a particularly beautiful one in this deck, too, at least in my opinion. Caveat: beauty is never skin-deep or a matter of polished artwork - prettiness is. And I've never accused this deck of being pretty.
Granny is looking out a window framed in solid, reliable stone blocks. It is night, and a blazing star shines like a beacon over Richmond, Tasmania, instantly recognisable by the arched bridge over the river and the church. Rebecca Jones' fine sense of place and her manifest love for her locale and the people of her community shines out of almost every card in the deck, as it does in this one.
Someone with second sight once saw her sitting behind me years ago, and described her as "having a bowling-club hairstyle". He was a bit inchoate - he saw the grey bun that peeps out from under her pilgrim's hat in this image. And she is a pilgrim: wandering through her community, through her deck and through the Otherworld simultaneously at all times.
Look at the church: at a time of night when, sadly, all Australian churches are locked up and dark, this one has its door open wide and a warm, orange glow of welcoming light and warmth shining from the doorway and windows. Spirituality isn't a Sunday Thing, nor even a nine-to-five thing. The church of Granny's imagining, the church that truly ministers to the soul, is open at all times. And notice the total lack of a cross on the spire? This same church doesn't differentiate between Christian and non-Christian, or even believers and agnostics: this same church offers welcome, comfort and acceptance to all comers, no matter what they believe or don't believe.
The trees on the far hill, blurred by distance, look almost like ragged people, cloaked-up humans struggling to reach the warmth. Outlined against the indigo sky, they approach hesitantly, in a small family group, looking for acceptance and perhaps charity. They need hope for the future, a reason to keep moving forwards through the night. And the warmth of the open church offers them just that.
Over the whole scene, Granny Jones, one of the most loving people in creation, smiles benignly. Her personal warmth fills her cottage and spills out her stone window, meeting the warmth of the church halfway. You want hope for the future, she suggests, then you need to meet it on its own terms, turn your face towards it, make the first move.
And if you do that, you cannot fail to find your own guiding light, your own comet, your own divine star of guidance lighting the road before your feet and hovering above the correct path for you to take in life.
