This video does a great job of explaining the 26,000 year global cycle known to our ancient ancestors and raises some very interesting questions!
Bought a big pile of old magazines at an estate sale with the original Life Magazine shot of the pic above (Life shot is a little different). She made a beautiful fortune teller, didn't she?
What is your favorite tarot card? Not your top ten or top five, but your absolute favorite. And more importantly, what does this card say about you? As a reader? As a client? As a human being?
No hedging, either. There can only be one favorite of anything.
No hedging, either. There can only be one favorite of anything.
If you feel you can't make a choice, stop and think. Imagine yourself doing your own tarot reading or that somebody else is reading for you. Which card makes you smile? Always. Whenever you see it? Whatever the question?
For me, it's the Hermit. Yes, there is more than one tie for number two, but this is the card that most signifies who I am or who I would like to be. What my best possible life is about, has been about, really, for a very long time. Whenever I draw it, I know I'm on the right track.
For me, it's the Hermit. Yes, there is more than one tie for number two, but this is the card that most signifies who I am or who I would like to be. What my best possible life is about, has been about, really, for a very long time. Whenever I draw it, I know I'm on the right track.
The Hermit is an unusual card, one of only eight cards in the entire 78 card RWS deck that clearly shows a radiating light source. Of these eight, five (The Fool, Moon, Sun, Lovers and Ten of Cups) show rays of light radiating from a natural source. Two of the remaining three cards show light radiating from 1. A floating crown that seems clearly metaphysical (Temperance) and 2. A figure (The Hanged Man). Arguably, both of these are halos.
Only the Hermit displays light radiating from what is clearly a manmade light source: the Hermit's lantern. Except that what is inside the Hermit's lantern is not manmade - it is a star. The only visibly shining star in the entire deck.
Only the Hermit displays light radiating from what is clearly a manmade light source: the Hermit's lantern. Except that what is inside the Hermit's lantern is not manmade - it is a star. The only visibly shining star in the entire deck.
This six-pointed star is a topic onto itself. In my personal association, the star in the Hermit's lantern represents our own inner light. But the Hermit isn't only a card of light, it is a card of mystery as well. And like any good mystery, it poses a number of questions.
The Hermit stands on a mountain top, or so it appears, but we do not see the valley. It isn't clear whether he is lighting the way for others or seeking something below. And yet, his eyes are closed. We may wonder if he is looking within? Or simply reflecting on what lies before him?
We can't answer these questions. But we can make some assumptions.
The Hermit holds the light of spirit high for all to see. He is solitary but at the same time he is a beacon for others. He has traveled far, climbed the icy mountain alone, and that climb has been arduous. Caught in the stillness of the card, he stands, rests his head upon his staff, and gathers his strength.
We can't answer these questions. But we can make some assumptions.
The Hermit holds the light of spirit high for all to see. He is solitary but at the same time he is a beacon for others. He has traveled far, climbed the icy mountain alone, and that climb has been arduous. Caught in the stillness of the card, he stands, rests his head upon his staff, and gathers his strength.
But this is only a snapshot in time. Something comes after.
The mountains are endless, and the journey is ongoing.
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| A beautiful picture taking on a truly perfect day. Even if I didn't see it then. Next time I will. |
Today is Sunday, January 1st, 2017.
Today is number one of seven.
Today is number one of twelve.
Today is number one of thirty-one.
Today is the first day of 2017 and 2017 is 2 + 0 + 1 + 7 = 10. And numerologically 10 is 1 + 0 = 1. Making today number one of the next ten years.
And because I was born in 1957, today is the first day of the first year in the sixth decade of my life.
So, because I wanted to be ready, it made sense to me to wake up today, at 4 AM, and make coffee and open up my journal. Not the new journal, I'd bought in honor of the new year, mind you. But the old the journal I'd begun in Fall of 2016 because in that journal there were 24 empty pages remaining.
So, because I wanted to be ready, it made sense to me to wake up today, at 4 AM, and make coffee and open up my journal. Not the new journal, I'd bought in honor of the new year, mind you. But the old the journal I'd begun in Fall of 2016 because in that journal there were 24 empty pages remaining.
The new journal was right there next to my chair and the pull of starting fresh was strong. My first inclination was to close the old journal and turn my back on the old year and the season past and make a new start. But those 24 empty pages called to me. And I realized that it wasn't about wasting paper. It was about a space that had to be acknowledged.
That space between the old and the new is always the same for me and, whenever I encounter it, I'm reminded of a trapeze artist, letting go of the old bar and hurtling through thin air in the direction of the new one. I think of how everyone always has to let go of whatever it is we've been holding onto and trust - even though there is no hard guarantee that the next thing will be there when we need it.
Leading up to that space I worry about what will happen and think long and hard about how it can all go wrong. But once I'm in it, the uncertainty and fear fade. All at once I remember how vitally important that space is. In and of itself.
It is not the space of letting go, although in those 24 no longer empty journal pages I did just that. And it isn't the space of moving forward, either, even though towards the end of those 24 pages I did that too.
Instead, it is a space that is moving and still and empty and full all at the same time. It is a space of courage and of faith. A space of transition. A space where anything is possible and everything is in is motion.
So I encourage everyone to take stock of what was, by most accounts, a very trying year. I encourage everyone to sort it out and let it go and make that jump. I encourage everyone to embrace the space between what was and what will be. Because that space is freedom.
This year I realized that I have been lying about my favorite season for years. The blazing glory of Northeast Pennsylvania fall foliage aside, my favorite season is not autumn. It is winter.
Hope is a commitment we make to ourselves. There is something about the darkness this season brings, something about the way it almost overpowers the light, that helps us see just how much that light means. I believe that this is why we light yule logs and Menorahs and Christmas lights.
The contrast between indoor coziness and exterior misery has something to do with this, I'm sure. But the real reason I love winter is because of the absolute clarity that this time of year brings. It is a clarity that doesn't come from books or journaling or other people. It is a clarity that comes straight from the source.
And here is an example. Standing on the edge of my snow covered lawn, I hear a crow call from the woods and a moment later another responds and even before the words come, I know something I didn't know before.
A few years ago I came in from another cold lawn and wrote that it takes determination to make a go of winter in Northeast PA. But the truth is that it takes more than determination - it takes hope. And just now, out in the wet snow, I realized something I should have figured out a long time ago.
Hope is a commitment we make to ourselves. There is something about the darkness this season brings, something about the way it almost overpowers the light, that helps us see just how much that light means. I believe that this is why we light yule logs and Menorahs and Christmas lights.
Because in the midst of darkness, we need to remember that light is hope and that hope is a promise we must keep.
This year, a relationship I used to believe in is in trouble and people I care about are trying to make their way through a very difficult holiday. Words are my gift but in this words have failed me.
So I light a candle and I remind myself that even if no one else can see it right now that's okay because there are times when they did and there will be times when they will again.
And I know that, eventually, we will all get a chance to keep that flame going and that this year it is my turn to hold the light.
I was asleep in my room when I heard (through sleep) a loud knocking or pounding. I was counting the knocks evidently half asleep and not really aware I was counting because I heard myself say, that's 13. And as soon as I said it, my entire body was flooded with fear.
It was the fear which woke me up completely. I'm not sure if I opened my eyes or if I had had them open all along in the dark but I see that the room has somehow filled up with light. Seeing the light reassures me. The fear evaporates.
The illumination in the room is white-out bright and the light itself is dense and diffuse at the same time like a spotlight in the dark - much brighter of course but of that same hazy quality. The light is so white and so bright that it obscures the contents of the room though not quite completely. Underneath the brilliance, I make out the form of my bedroom - the blaze of the mirror, the shape of the furniture, walls, windows, drapes.
The illumination in the room is white-out bright and the light itself is dense and diffuse at the same time like a spotlight in the dark - much brighter of course but of that same hazy quality. The light is so white and so bright that it obscures the contents of the room though not quite completely. Underneath the brilliance, I make out the form of my bedroom - the blaze of the mirror, the shape of the furniture, walls, windows, drapes.
I watch the light for some time, feeling no need to analyze or understand it. Finally I drift off to sleep.
Rebecca was the last "witch" to be hung as a result of the infamous trials in Salem Village (now Danvers, Massachusetts). She was 71 years old, in ill-health and so hard of hearing that she could not respond correctly to the questions she was asked.
The evidence against her came in the form of "spectral evidence" or psychic "apparitions" perceivable only to her accusers. Such evidence was allowable under English law in the trial of accused witches only. Other special legal conditions granted in English witch trials included the testimony of children, statements of sworn enemies, and evidence presented by those who owed money to the accused.
After readings my great aunt's testimony and Shirley Jackson's wonderful book, The Witchcraft of Salem Village, I feel certain that Rebecca did not have malicious bone in her body and was absolutely innocent of the "spectral torture" of the young girls who testified against her. Instead, she was a gentle warm-hearted woman, loved by her family and community, less vulnerable to slander than many of the accused but a victim nonetheless.
She was not, of course, the only only one to suffer.
She was not, of course, the only only one to suffer.
Of the 200+ people (most of whom were women) accused at Salem, twenty were put to death. Nineteen of these twenty, including Rebecca and her sister Sarah, maintained their innocence right up to the time that they were hung. A single victim, Giles Corey, refused to speak throughout his trial (because a plea would lead to forfeiture his land) and was, for that crime, sentenced to be crushed to death by heavy stones.
Rebecca was remembered for her courage on the gallows. I like to think that, as a Christian, she held a strong conviction that she was going to a better place - and that this was a place her accusers were unlikely to see. Even so, the months of hardship and dread in a primitive prison and the ultimate terror of Gallows Hill must have been almost impossible to bear.
Seeing Rebecca's home and the beautiful farm she and her family carved from the wilderness was a moving experience. Just that morning we had been in Salem proper walking with the crowds, smiling at the costumes, and enjoying the many witch-themed shops. The night before, I had stood with an large, boisterous group of people, in the center of town, taking photos of the Samantha Stevens statue - enjoying the high spirits and outright celebration of all things witchy.
Walking the same path Rebecca walked so long ago, however, made me see all of that in a different, and unexpected, light.
The most conservative of estimates tell us that an estimated 100,000 people, and most likely more, were put to death as a result of the witch hunts that spread across Europe and the colonies in an approximate three hundred year period (1450 to 1750). While some of these people did practice some version of the Craft, all were innocent, in my opinion, of the curses and murders of which they were accused.
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| Bewitched |
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| The Nurse Homestead |
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| Grounds |
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| Folding Rope Bed - Note 14 Inch Floor Board from Virgin Forest |
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| Candle Making. Something still done in our family :) |
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| Kitchen Garden |
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| Rebecca's Memorial |
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| Rebecca's Likely Headstone |
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| Outside Author and Witch Christian Day's Salem Shop |
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