The 7 of Pentacles is one of my favorite cards to read for other people – I praise them to no end when this card comes up for them.
“good for YOU – this says you are REALLY taking a long, hard, analytical, truthful look at your work/ money/ home….” – I usually tell them something like that.
But it came up for me tonight -reversed. Ugh.
Ok, ok, tarot cards- you caught me. Yup, I’ll admit it – it really does look like I’ve had my head in the sand about a few things pentacular recently. (yup, I just made that word up. Like it?)
You see, when the 7 of pentacles comes up REVERSED – or, in my own languaging, “needing to be turned the right way around”, usually what is happening is that that close, detailed look at an earthly situation is being avoided like the plague.
I have been massively fortunate to have someone come into my life recently who seems, miracle of miracles, to be GOOD at this 7 of pentacles sort of stuff – in other words, good at looking at physical chaos and making sense of it. Dealing with stuff practically. I know – amazing, right?
We were talking this evening about how physical “stuff” can carry so much emotional weight for a person that sometimes it is just too much to deal with. That’s understandable, but I’m not letting myself off the hook because of that.
And yes- incase you haven’t realized it, the 7 of pentacles energy that I personally need to turn upright for myself seems very much to do with physical stuff at the moment.
The 7 of pentacles can address any number of physical course corrections for people depending on context- perhaps fine tuning matters of finance, or a move to improve one’s circumstances, diet, etc etc- but for me, this time around, it feels very much like just plain STUFF.
I remember, back in the day, when I was a free bird. At 20, 21 and 22 years’ old, I had a backpack and some books, and that was about it! It felt good to be able to put everything that I own in the back of my truck, on top of an old futon, and drive wherever the heck I wanted to go. I did a ton of traveling, both via highway and across oceans, hitting most of Europe, the Mediterranean, Israel, Egypt, Jordan and Mexico in a very deep way (think Chiapas, Oaxaca, etc) before my 22nd birthday. I took a Green Tortoise bus, hopped into an archaeological dig in Israel, was on a hijacked train in Egypt (really!), got run over by a motorcycle in my sleep outside of Carnac, France (yeah- that’s a good story. Hilarious too…), danced naked on top of a bus on the Sea of Cortez, and had several memorable hot springs adventures.. Oh, so many memories. And not a single regret. I loved that freedom.
I remember my Dad being so impacted by my freedom and wanderlust that on my 21st birthday he wrote me a song… I’ll have to try to track down all of the lyrics, but the one that really stood out at me was
“21- and she’s got keys – keys to the highway….”
- and that really did say it all. He knew me so well.
Now, 14 years, two children, one mortgage and one failed marriage later, I am again getting a bit of wanderlust back in my blood. I can feel it: bubbles of yearning in the marrow. I want to share a backpack with my son before he gets so old that he doesn’t want to hang out with me anymore. I want to show my daughter the unrestrained abandon of paddling over a reef at sunrise before she is more concerned with how she looks in her swimsuit than she is in the kaleidosope of perfect life in the corals.
But settling down wasn’t the worst thing in the world, you know – in fact, I NEEDED to settle. And I did a fantastic job of settling. I own a house with an affordable mortgage in one of the most beautiful mountain towns in the United States, I have an amazing community of yoga teachers, waldorf parents, and generally conscious people around me, and I have time to enjoy it all. I talked about “putting down roots’ – which I was sorely lacking – when I came to Flagstaff in 1999… and put down roots I did.
Now, though, like with all things, balance is needed again. I needed to clear after the marriage… and am still clearing. Physically.
The nerves and emotions mainly come in because I am in overwhelm. There’s just so MUCH of it all. I’ve got about 4 of 6 rooms in the home cleared (which I continually pat myself on the back for doing ) but the two remaining rooms are more than daunting tasks looming on the horizon… and I very very clearly feel myself hiding from the responsibility of clearing them.
But, like anything that humans avoid doing, there’s usually a modicum of sabotage in that avoidance. My favorite explanation for why people sabotage themselves is always to point out this: That which we desire the most in life is often also that which we fear the most. – it always seems to be true to one extent or the other, doesn’t it?
So if I desire the freedom to up and leave my home, to take myself on wild, untamed adventures again but I’m having trouble getting my head out of the sand on a simple thing like clearing stuff away, what’s really going on? Am I unconsciously worried that becoming an adventuring single mama would isolate me from other people? Leave me lonely? Cut off? Probably. Am I dreading the red tape that is waiting for me when I need to figure out how to take a sabbatical and school my kiddos from a beach instead of easily dropping them with their wonderful teachers? Definitely. That’s a tall order. Am I petrified that if I ask for help with this mess of property that people will judge me, think of me as lazy or chaotic? Yup. Terrified of others’ opinions of me. Absolutely.
Most of all, the thought of clearing everything blocking this flow is scary, I think, because I so desperately want to ensure that freedom will not leave me unhinged. Is it possible to become a kite, dancing, and still know unequivocally that you are tethered? That you will not blow away? That you will always, always have a home to come root to?
I hope so. I think somewhere in that reassuring, balancing knowing of home, my freedom awaits, and my garage will get cleared out
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