Tarot Tuesday and Journal Writing

A few years ago, a writer-friend planned to dedicate Tuesdays to writing about the Tarot on her blog. She was going to use the imagery of the cards to assist with going deeper into writing projects. She wanted to address creative blocks, dialogue, character development, backstory, setting, plot and poetry, and whatever else developed over time. 

I waited and waited but Tarot Tuesday did not continue. Instead, my friend’s writing-life grew wild with deadlines for books soon to be published, her husband became ill, and her blog simmered in the background of her life. 

Still, that one blog post from my friend was enough to get me interested in Tarot. I knew that my friend had studied Tarot extensively and is considered to be a person of knowledge and experience within the circles where Tarot is respected. But I was slow to jump in. All right, I will admit it. There was a time long ago when I questioned the cards. Something certainly not to be taken seriously. Add this to the fact that as person who is very traditional in my Cherokee, Lenape, Seneca beliefs, the Tarot did not seem to have a place in my life. But I’m open to having fun with Astrology (The Moon in Pisces with an Appetite Rising) so why not Tarot? 

A few weeks after the idea of learning more popped into my mind, I took a leap of faith and asked another friend who seemed like she might be open to Tarot. Turns out she had much knowledge. I’d known her for years, but she had never mentioned it. She invited me over for tea (pre-Covid) and also invited her close friend who has extensive Tarot experience and knowledge. Thus, my learning began. 

 

What I have also discovered is how much Journal Writing and Tarot complement each other. This opened the door for me to continue learning, and I'm now a believer. I'm not sure how Tarot cards works, only that it does work. I'm finding that for my personal life and within my writing life, I always pull cards in tune with where I am in my life. 

 

Tarot Tuesday by my friend Patricia 

Getting Started: First rule. I have only one rule I hold myself to, I do my best to let go of any meanings I have ascribed to the card so I can approach things with fresh eyes and beginner's mind. I usually pull only one card to get started. Though you could add another card or two. Please remember there is no wrong or right way. 

To get things flowing I begin by fanning the cards out facedown. I take my time picking one that “feels right.” Then, I get started writing which consists of describing the card in as much detail as possible. Notice the colors. Consider the landscape, the position of the characters and buildings. Is there more than one person? If so, what might they be saying to each other? Jot everything down—even random thoughts and follow where your instincts want to take you. 

Also notice how the card makes you feel. What does it evoke? 

Free write for a set amount of time—ten, fifteen minutes, or longer if you are engaged. Example: For today’s post I pulled the Queen of Swords. After describing everything I could about the card I sat quietly with the image to see if any memories or insight might surface. When nothing came, I began to ask questions. The questions I asked were ones that popped into my head in the moment. Here are a few that came up for me. Feel free to use them for writing prompts if you like. What does the landscape look like around her? What does it look like further out—in the places I can’t see? What is she protecting? Am I protecting something in my own life? (This is where a shift happened and I realized why I was blocked). If so what and why? I find it helps to turn the lens both inward and outward when wanting to go deeper. I usually do this after I have gone further into the process. 

TIP: It helps to keep checking in with your body and how you are experiencing the imagery. Your body can give you a lot of information. I discovered thru this process that what I am writing about (I am working in the genre of memoir) has a lot of emotions attached. I put up a protective barrier and it has created a block. So, the next questions I asked myself were: Can I put down my sword? Is it emotionally safe to do so? Can I create enough emotional distance from this part of my story without needing to be so guarded? 

Can I maintain its energy if I pull back a bit? Is there another way to tell the story? A more effective way? I will explore this further on my own but recognizing why I was blocked in the first place was extremely helpful. Depending on what else surfaces I may create a small ritual around letting go or add a mantra and breath work to my daily practice or it might be as simple as naming the block. Sometimes that is all it takes to get things flowing. Not everything needs to be a huge revelation in order to be helpful. 

Patricia said these exercises work well for seasoned Tarot readers and for people with no prior knowledge of the cards who just want assistance with their writing process, and in their personal lives. She signed her post by saying, "I look forward to sharing more on Tarot next Tuesday."

Except there never was another Tarot Tuesday post on her blog. However, I've discovered maybe I don’t need more. This one post gives me everything I need to explore and find what is lurking inside my subconscious, and it’s proving to give me fertile soil to write from, and to record my thoughts in my journal.

The Heart’s Resilience

At age sixteen I began writing in a journal. The first entry tells of going to the Rose Parade on New Years Eve in 1969, with Jimmy, we were juniors in high school. It felt brazen to cuddle all night in a sleeping bag on the street corner, waiting.  But what we found together was friendship, both of us, not romance. 

On March 24 I wrote, “Yippee, Luke came over.” That night Jimmy came over too and my friend Sherry was with him, they had begun going out. We double dated, finishing at Houdini’s Castle in the Hollywood hills. The caretaker’s hot breathed dogs met us ten feet from the mansion, snarling. Luke grabbed my hand, we ran fast, my fingernails gripping into his palm. 

Luke thought I was special, it showed in his eyes, but he kept me guessing. He’d arrive at my house unannounced; we fell into a long day lasting into the night. Then for the next few days or a week he stayed away, never calling, and then he’d drop by again. Thrilled and demoralized, to keep my heart locked away from him I dated others, lots of others. Luke didn’t date anyone. 

March 12, 1971, I wrote, “Had a wreck.” It means Jimmy and I ditched school to go skiing, got into a car wreck, rolled his VW. Almost getting killed together gave us a sturdy bond. In friendship I was kind of hoping he would ask me to the Senior Prom. He didn’t, he asked my friend Peggy. So I asked my friend Michael to go with me. 

In the fall Luke began film school at Cal Arts. I left for college and began perfecting my dating career until I met Richard. He had shoulder length black hair and smelled of Patchouli. We slept together for my first time. July 8 is the day I got pregnant. Code words record this in my journal.

Jump cut. July 1973 tells of moving to a cabin in the mountains where I lived alone all summer. Luke visited once. The day is logged only by a drawing of a yellow sun. I remember my brown bikini, my darker brown skin. Luke’s eyes, skimming my stomach, his hands, never touching me. By now we both resisted a romance together, biting down hard, refusing attraction or despair and became “best friends” in a minefield of platonic love.

My last journal entry is dated December 1973. It says my parents divorce was final. Our family home was sold. My dog went to live with the neighbors. I got a full time job and moved into a crummy apartment. Couldn't manage full time work and school, dropped out of college. I was twenty years old.

The following year I met Glenn. Glossy, springy hair, deepening chestnut in winter, brown-gold in summer, changeable like his personality. He opened his life to me, a fixation of love soaring high, crashing low. Three years later we married.

I read my journal for the first time in 1991. My husband and I had been married for fifteen years, and our seven-year-old son had a brain tumor. Luke was still one of my best friends and I still had to reach into that field of mysterious distance to find him.

The morning I sat in the sun, reading my old journal, it was as if my skull cracked open, spilling out my memories. They stuck to me like lint on a black dress. 

I let the incredible twisting ropes untie in my mind, my heart blared open and for hours I cried. Everyone thought the undertow dragging me down, scrapping me along the bottom, was my son’s brain tumor and most of it was. Yet the years between 1970 and 1973 had stopped around me, like a scene held in a snowy globe.

This is a true story. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. 

Earth and The Great Sea Journal

January 1, 2015

Welcome and thank you for visiting. This is my new online journal of stories, photographs, thoughts and ponderings. 

I’m an essayist and the author of  a diverse body of work. My writing life is centered on writing and revising, word count, editing and meeting deadlines. 

I began writing this journal to give myself an open field to explore, push boundaries and have fun.