Hanged Man — Tarot of the Absurd

Thursday, June 21st, 2012

il penduThe hanged man sacrifices himself
for some purpose greater than his own well-being.
A willing victim of his own up-ended perspective,
he pushes aside the popular opinion,
forsakes the temptation of easy gratification
and goes without things commonly seen as “needs”
in attempt to open others’ eyes
to a different world view.

 

A martyr to some is a traitor to others;
a thief to some is a savior to others.
Bear witness to your true beliefs:
Which side are you on?

 

*   *   *

 

I went to the printer’s with my 80 files: 78 cards plus the extra moon plus the silly copyright card. The silly copyright card will be numbered (1 thru 600) and signed, but I’m not going to let you know all the silly words.

 

I’ve never gone through the process of putting something in print format for the printer before. I needed to make all the files the exact correct dimensions (7cm x 12.5cm) and add bleed and crop marks and make sure the color was correct. Tedious.

 

I hear the millions (I wish!) asking, “What color?” Oh, if only I could have known before-hand that files need to be in CMYK for print and RGB for screen. For some mysterious reason (feel free to enlighten me in great detail if you know), RGB black does not translate to the same black as CMYK black. Now that I’ve re-learned my lesson the hard way, I recall being told something to that effect a dozen years ago.

 

Anyhow, all my files were printing some horrible muddied black. I am a person of muddy grays in theory, but I wish the pigment on these cards to appear BLACK BLACK BLACK BLACK BLACK.

 

The upshot is, I should get to see a proof sometime next week. Yahoo! After I measure how thick the stack of cards is, I will design a box. The box will not be a regular tuck box, because my printer does not have a die to cut them out and I do not wish to cut out 600 boxes by hand (why not? who knows!) so I am making my task even more difficult by having a partly printed, partly handmade box. Thus, no two boxes will be exactly alike.

 

If anyone is interested in a copy, do feel free to let me know (see the contact info) and I will keep track of you in a very organized manner and let you know when it is ready.

 

You notice I have not yet mentioned price. This does not mean they will be free. It means I detest setting prices. Ultimately, it will be the low-average price for a LE self-published deck, which is $41 including shipping in the US. Assuming the box is not too much work…

 

*   *   *

 

Happy Summer Solstice!

The Hermit — Tarocchi dei Celti “Jacovitti”

Sunday, May 20th, 2012

The Hermit turns away from a consumerist, materialistic society to seek answers that arise in quiet solitude. He teaches us to honor timeless inner wisdom. The Hermit understands the myriad of paths that people choose and  helps us with compassionate detachment.

 

I draw one last card from this deck before I send it away to its new home. The Hermit. Why do I let this deck go so easily? Perhaps because I do not realize its value. Perhaps because I realize value is not intrinsic to an object, but rather given to it by others. Perhaps because it makes me uncomfortable. Perhaps because I know it will be adored in its new home. Most likely I let it go because I am afraid of becoming like my mother in her vast house full of curiosities and wonders. For example, there is a room built specially to house reels and skeins of yarn whose twisted fibers will never touch one of the dozens of knitting machines that lounge about the house, each one purchased in state of disrepair and fixed to perfect working order. They are for sale, if only some one would ask.

 

Last weekend I asked to borrow my mother’s button collection. I haven’t looked through it in years. I remember three large tins of buttons. They arrived with my sister last weekend, eleven tins of fasteners, each tin averaging 5”x8”x8” in size. One tin contains old coat buttons, hundreds of buttons in muted hues of grays and browns. Another contains white buttons, no mother-of-pearl. Another contains mother-of-pearl buttons only. Another contains antique cards of buttons once sold at 27¢ each. There are buttons to be covered, wooden buttons, woven leather buttons, sequined buttons, glass buttons, silver buttons, and more. Any button, any button. Thousands of buttons— myriads.

 

I am in the process of having my tarot deck printed. It is a long process because I am learning about papers and bleed and color and layout and nursing all at the same time. The local printer does not have a tuck box die, so I am going to design a card sleeve and then make a box decorated with ribbon and an antique button— hence the buttons— if I ever have two hands free.

 

There is always an idea. There is always material to carry out the project. There is often not enough time. Even less often is there enough will. The house is full of possibilities. A room of yarn. A room of fabrics. Dozens of sewing and knitting machines, fixed to perfect working order. Paints. Papers. Inks. Rooms full of books. Where is my mother amongst this? It is springtime. She is in the garden, weeding, building fences, moving rocks, planting seeds. Everything in the house can burn, as far as she is concerned. These curious items are nothing. The earth is everything.

 

The Hermit turns away from a consumerist, materialistic society to seek answers that arise in quiet solitude. He teaches us to honor timeless inner wisdom. The Hermit understands the myriad of paths that people choose and  helps us with compassionate detachment.

The Two Moons of the Tarot of the Absurd

Friday, May 11th, 2012

Jes Shanahan

Artist: Jessica Rose Shanahan

 

Strange things happen by the light of the Moon.

 

The Moon shines light on the inner demons of the unconscious—
giving life to the shadow self’s distorted vision—
a moon-shadow landscape of illusion
where dream and reality swirl— undifferentiated—
where the self wanders bewildered and aimless—
anxious and mad— into the arms of deception.

 

When illustrating the cards in this deck, I incorporated the meaning of the card with a few traditional symbols together with a few symbols of my own into an illustration that attempts to embody the concept of the card intuitively. The conveyed meaning is based largely on posture and human expression rather than on the basis of occult symbols. What allowed me to do this relatively freely was largely my ignorance of the sacredness of symbols in the occult tarot. However, artists invariably have personal symbols that come through in work. Thus the cards— like any work of art— are not devoid of symbols. The symbols are merely different. My goal was to offer a new way of looking at looking at an old idea.

 

When illustrating the Moon I thought, What is the most deceptive thing? My conclusion was that the most deceptive thing is a creator who brings something into this world and endows it with the faith that it will be loved and cared for and protected fully— then from within the realm of confidence of its creation, the creator becomes destroyer. I illustrated this as a mad mother consuming her own child: the ultimate deception. It is a disturbing image.

 

This action can be seen overtly in cases of child abuse. However, it also occurs small-scale in every-day relationships. We let people down. Despite our best efforts, we are imperfect mothers, friends and lovers. We deceive and destroy even our own selves. This inevitability begs the question, Who is more greatly deceived in this relationship: the creator or the destroyed?

 

Upon becoming a mother myself, I find this image more and more disturbing and have found it necessary to deceive myself anew. Thus, I drew a second Moon. The second Moon contains not only the illusion that my creation will have the ability to wander into the wilds unarmed and sleep with the wolves, unharmed, but that I myself will be the perfect mother, able to produce such a miracle. This comforting illusion occurs when we refuse to take off the veil of deception and witness reality.

 

Unfortunately, although this is the more comforting image, the refusal to see reality ultimately does more harm than good. Facing the truth of one’s destructiveness allows us to better our actions. Choosing some comforting illusion allows us to be lead blindly by our own inner demons into the deception of dreams.

 

Which Moon you choose is up to you. I leave them both in the deck.

The Star — The Shakespeare Oracle

Friday, April 13th, 2012

Artist: Cynthia von Buhler
Author: A. Bronwyn Llewellyn

 

The first time I passed through Oaxaca, Mexico, I had one of the most amazing dreams of my life.

 

I dreamed I was a woman living in a small village in the mountains. I was newly in love and newly married when my new husband went off to war. He said to me before he left, “While I’m gone, make me a weaving.” So I made weavings. Every day I made weavings, weaving to no end until one day I said, “I can’t do this anymore. I have to stop. I have to do something else.”

 

I wanted to join the army. I bypassed all the armed forces where women are accepted. I walked until I came to a cement house where it was cold. I went inside. The house overlooked a canyon— a canyon familiar to my dreams, into which I often dove on wings of faith in search of freedom. The men inside wore black: black clothing, black hoods over their faces. This sector of the army was kept secret from women. No woman knew of it; none had ever been here.

 

I picked up a gun. “I wanted to fight,” I said.

 

The men looked at me askance. “You are a woman,” said one of them.

 

I saw into their hearts and knew then it was not a sexist remark. The men were aware that I could fight as well as they could, but they cared too much about me. Each one of them loved me and would not let me do this to myself. This squadron meant death.

 

In came the man in charge. He said I could not join. I was furious. One man after another of higher rank came in until at last in came the Zen Master. I paced in small circles as we talked.

 

I said, “I thought I knew this. I used to know what I was doing. I used to know detachment. I thought I knew what Zen was.”

 

He said, “We are all just learning.” He said, “Show me your weavings.”

 

I brought them out. He lifted up each of the weavings one by one and held each one in admiration. Each weaving depicted a different woman, sitting, weaving. There were piles of them, dozens and dozens of weavings, large, and in bright colors. The man nodded at each one. He knew the names and villages of all the women. He spoke highly of their weaving and spoke highly of mine.

 

At the bottom of the pile was a small weaving of a young child holding an empty spoon before her with two hands, as if in offering. The Zen Master could not place this image; he had never seen such a child. He asked, “What is this?”

 

I turned my head and looked at the floor. My eyes blurred with tears. I said, “Oh. That one doesn’t belong.”

 

He said, “Then get rid of it.”

 

“I can’t,” I said, and began to sob helplessly. “It’s my hope.”

 

“Well then,” the Zen Master said to me, “get rid of all the others.”

 

And I woke, sobbing.

 

*   *   *

 

The woman in the next bunk in the hostel noticed when I woke. She said she heard me crying but didn’t want to wake me in the middle of a dream. She sat at the head of my bed and listened as I told her my dream, crying. She said she never had dreams like that. I thanked her for listening. I am so thankful for her, so thankful for this unknown woman from Israel, for without her waiting for me to awaken and without her listening, I may never have remembered the most beautiful dream of my life: the dream of what hope is.

 

Hope is The Star. Get rid of all else.

Strength — Three of Swords — Seven of Coins — Russian Tarot of St. Petersburgh

Monday, April 2nd, 2012

Artist: Yuri Shakov

 

Last night, in an attempt at sleep, I read the entirety of Wang’s An Introduction to the Golden Dawn Tarot. Unfortunately, I found it riveting. I want to try moving towards multiple card readings. I would like to try to remember the stories behind how one card relates to the other. I draw three cards— past, present, future.

 

The past is Strength. Not that Strength is past, but that physical Strength was the most obvious manifestation of my very-independent Self. That Self has past in the direction of the Three of Swords. The body and one’s apparent independence are ultimately impossible to hold onto. It is best to become less attached to them before necessary. This decreases heartache and increases freedom. The Three of Swords leads onward to the Seven of Coins. Having a child is always the Seven of Coins. I imagine the investment is perpetual, tho one hopes to put less effort into it over time. And I imagine harvest thus:

 

—hunting for ripe blackberries at the beginning of the season—

among the brambles
not quite out of reach
one sun-kissed drupe
placed upon the tongue
evokes a wash of purple
dripping from the sky
melting over thorns
a be-here-now
of sunlight

in the mouth

The Emperor — Tarot Noir

Saturday, March 31st, 2012

Robyn Tisch-HollisterArtist: Robyn Tisch-Hollister

 

Waiting for this baby, I say, “Teach me something about patience,” and draw the Emperor, reversed.

 

Mr. Emperor. I’ve always had trouble with you. You would show up reversed. I have trouble dealing with authority. Yeah, so what? That’s because people in “authority” often take it instead of earn it. I have no patience for such people. I had issues illustrating the Emperor card: I have trouble seeing anything other than his domineering and controlling manner. Supposedly, the Emperor can be a nice, fatherly figure to the whole deck, but I haven’t seen it. They say, upright, he sets his long range goals and has no problems with patience needed to achieve them. What foresight! What planning! What control. What if I don’t agree with your plans, Mr. Emperor?

 

Patiently, I wait for Baby to be born. According to my initial divinations, the apple will fall from the tree during the 2nd week in April. Modern technology has thrown my own mathematics for a loop. The ultrasound technician— who was not there for conception— says I’m due last weekend. Although I seem to have no authority over my own body, the situation isn’t bad. Patience is the only thing I need. In the grand scheme of things, that is asking very little. I should upright the Emperor and learn to see him as the baby’s father. Perhaps then I could learn to love the Emperor.

Il Mondo — Tarocchi dei Celti “Jacovitti”

Wednesday, March 28th, 2012

Benito jacovittiArtist: Benito Jacovitti

[This card was not drawn at random.]

 

I’ve been following this thread on the Aeclectic Tarot website called “Where are the bitchy women of tarot?

 

People post pictures from different decks depicting women who, in one way or another, appear to be a bit bitchy. There are many ways to define bitch. Wikipedia does a good job under “bitch (insult)

 

Different people have different reactions to the word depending on their history with it. I have different reactions to the word, depending on the situation and how it’s said. If it’s said with spit and spite, I want to bite. If it’s said sweetly by someone I like, I might laugh or find it endearing. [I am not certain this has ever happened, but I remain open-minded.] Or I could refer to myself as a bitch because— la!— it happens.

 

Referring to dogs, the term bitch is an old one. In writing, it was first applied to women about 1330 and then with increasing frequency. It meant to refer to a woman who was acting like a female dog in heat. Now it is used more liberally, generally to refer to a woman who has control over a situation in one way or another. Women in power are referred to as bitches by people who don’t like them and as strong women by people who do like them.

 

If a woman throws a dish at you and yells at you, you might call her a bitch. If a man throws a dish at you and yells at you, might call him an asshole. Throwing things and yelling is a nasty way to wield power.

 

If you are a man with a very large ego and a woman totally slaughters you at tennis, you might call her a bitch, but not to her face. If you are a woman and a man totally and unapologeticly slaughters you at tennis, you might call him an asshole, but, again, not to his face. Such is the world of poor sportsmanship and insults. [I only say tennis because women wear those sexy little skirts; I suck at the game.]

 

If you are a man and find a woman really sexy and you want to fuck her yet she avoids you while continuing to turn you on, you might call her a bitch. If you are a woman and you find a man really sexy so you fuck him and then he ignores you, you might call him an asshole. After women succumb to the advances of men, the balance of power changes. Desirable women have power over men. It’s a hormone thing. In this phase, women are bitches. Women become less desirable to men immediately after sex. Again, a hormone thing. In this phase, men are assholes. Yes, men are totally ruled by hormones, just like women.

 

So, what makes a woman a bitch?

 

In fourth grade, I was at my friend Becky’s house where she was showing off her new COLOR computer monitor. I really couldn’t see the advantages of a color monitor seeing as how the printers were all in black & white, but whatever. She was the boss. She was showing me a drawing program. It was boring, but I watched as she tediously made a white line drawing of a dog on a fucia background. Let it be known that in fourth grade, I was programing with Logo turtle graphics. Becky didn’t know this and she didn’t care. She was smarter because she said she was smarter. She saw me as less intelligent because I refused to argue with her. [I was already living by my mother’s maxim, “If I’m going to argue, I want to argue with someone who is more intelligent than I am.”] Becky’s primitive computer skills bored me. My mind wandered.

 

I think our argument began when I brought up my newly-acquired knowledge that a female dog is called a bitch. Becky turned to me and said, “Don’t you dare say that!” I was rather confused. I was certain a female dog was called a bitch because I’d read it in a book about dogs. “But a female dog is a bitch,” I said. “Take that back right now or I’ll punch you in the face!” said Becky. Confused and speechless, I stood there dumb. Becky punched me in the face. I walked home.

 

I think Becky was a bitch.

The Fool — Tarot of the Absurd

Thursday, March 22nd, 2012

Jessica Rose Shanahan ‘If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise.’ —William Blake

 

Zero is the cardinal number of the empty set and the additive identity of real numbers. It is important in field theory and it is part of every basic algebraic structure by definition.Without zero and the ideas contained in the notion of identities and inverses there would be practically no modern mathematics and physics.

 

The occult tarot and other metaphysical systems use allegorical significance of numerals rather than mathematical significance of numerals. Metaphysics uses the notion of identities and inverses in a philosophical manner to describe abstract concepts undefinable by means of mathematics. Mathematicians define a (seemingly) completely different set of abstract concepts using the same symbols.*

 

‘Only two things are certain: the universe and human stupidity— and I’m not certain about the universe.’ —Albert Einstein

 

The greatest problems in communication occur when people agree on the symbol used but cannot agree on the abstract concept defined by the symbol. Symbols in and of themselves have no intrinsic meaning: in every case, the meaning of the symbol is defined by the viewer. In order to facilitate communication, we try to agree on the meaning of a symbol.

 

At times this meaning is dictated by society. A large red octagon with a white outline means “stop,” although nothing intrinsic to red-octagon-with-white-outline implies “stop.” It is merely the meaning we have given a rather arbitrary symbol in order to help prevent accidents. In a city, choosing to believe that the octagon is not a symbol for stop may result in injury or death. On a deserted road, the octagon quite often takes on the meaning of “look both ways.”

 

‘The wise through excess of wisdom is made a fool.’ —Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

There two kinds of people (there are many kinds of “two kinds of people”): those who define symbols and those who more-or-less follow definitions. Definers-of-symbols are often great thinkers and philosophers or at least great leaders, however—

 

“Any fool will make a rule, and any fool will mind it.” —Henry David Thoreau.

 

So what is to prevent us from redefining the entire set of symbols and numbers used in the occult tarot? What is to prevent us from introducing an entirely new set of symbols and numbers to please our fancy? Nothing, other than the fact that this habit tends to frustrate communication. Historically, this has been done time and time again. Each religion defines its own set of symbols and defends this set’s concepts as true.

 

‘Those who wish to appear wise among fools, among the wise seem foolish.’ —Quintilian

 

In illustrating my own deck, I needed to determine which symbols meant something to me, which symbols meant nothing to me, and which of my own personal symbols I thought significant enough to introduce into the deck. Unfortunately for those who favor such correspondences, my thought patterns prevent me from incorporating the symbols of astrology, runes, quaballah, numerology, and other commonly associated esoteric systems into my deck. This can make my deck difficult to “read,” if one is used to working within “traditional” tarot systems. I apologize. For me, the endeavor of creating a deck was a beautiful journey of personal exploration and artistic expression. I am grateful to all who adore the fruits of my labor. Thank you.**

 

‘The fool doth think himself wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.’ —William Shakespeare

 

*I am neither a mathematician nor a metaphysician.
**Today’s undiscussed question was, “When will my baby be born?”

The Hanged Man — Pearls of Wisdom

Tuesday, March 20th, 2012

Pictures & Words: Roxi Sim & Caeli Fulbrite

 

This is one of those decks about which I read, “I really wanted to love this deck but I found it so cluttered.” I would not complain about the clutteredness. I would complain more about the fact that every face has the same smile and that the quantity of curls and spirals in the bodies makes them look like articulated mannequins. It is difficult for me to see beyond that to other details, such as the fact that much of this card is upside-down. In the background, the water is the sky and the upside-down mountains are reflected therein. The potted plants in the upper corners grow inverted. This gives the impression of leaves falling upward.

 

“How will I fare in business?” I ask, and draw The Hanged Man. I am immediately tempted to throw it— hide it in the middle of the deck— deny my draw in one way or another— maybe use another deck altogether— but I manage to control myself. What can I learn from this card?

 

The Cute Little Book that comes with this deck tells me:

“The surrender to water, representing the deep emotional content buried in the subconscious mind and made available to consciousness through the shock and exigency of the situation, opens the way for new wisdom and transformation while in physical form.¶

 

“The Hanged Man, though bound, is available to the totality of the experience. He is free from fear of loss. Able to sense the fullness of his own divinity, he is emancipated. In that sensing, all the exigency of sacrifice and difficulty is lost and forgotten. What is left is the wisdom and knowledge of who he is and who we all are. ¶

 

“The snake reminds him that the shedding of skin, though difficult, brings beauty and blessings. Paradise is wherever you are, not a place from which humans are exiled because of stolen knowledge. Knowledge that leads to wisdom is ours by right of being human.”

 

So, how will I fare in business? I have always been terrified of doing business for myself. There are too many decisions to make. If the business fails, I am a failure. I don’t want to be a business person because I want to be a _____ (fill in the blank). Sheer terror! Running my own business has always been the most unappealing thing I could possibly do.

 

Whether or not I am going into business for myself is not a question I am asking at the moment: to a certain degree, every artist or writer is in business for his or herself. I cannot be successful at what it is I enjoy doing if I remain too timid or lazy to market it. In order to be successful at business, should that be what I choose to do, I need to shed the skin of fear that surrounds what I believe I can and cannot do and perhaps even my ideas of what I like and do not like to do.

 

While it is relatively easy to invert my body and gain a different perspective on the world around me, it is a bit more difficult to gain a new perspective on my own self. No matter which way I turn, my own body still appears in the same orientation to my eyes. Perhaps the first step would be to stop reciting an old mantra sculpted of the primordial clay of my formative years: “You will never be successful as an artist. You will never make money as a writer.” Although it is true I do not personally know any “successful” artists or writers, it would be failure indeed to spend my entire life refusing to give myself a chance at following my heart because I have labeled myself doomed to failure from the start.

 

The Hanged Man need not hang his own heart in preemptive failure.

Four of Wands & Two of Cups — Napo Tarot

Friday, March 16th, 2012

My younger sister was willing to pick a card, although she was not willing to ask a question. She likes this deck. I asked her what the picture made her think of. She said, “Not a thing.” I think it’s great that she specifically does like the colors and shapes of the deck but attaches no meaning to the image because it is too abstract. I have trouble liking something that I find too abstract to attach meaning to.

 

Interpretation: “Completion of work. Activity at a standstill, work unresolved. Union of equal forces.”

 

I need to make a story for everything. Sometimes, the story is particularly boring. These people are cheerleaders, shaking their pom-poms of fruit and leaves because they are happy to be done with what they set out to do.

 

I need a clarifying question, as it is obvious to me that neither my sister nor I are accomplishing what we mean to be doing. “What is the purpose of procrastination?” I ask, and draw the Two of Cups, reversed.

 

Interpretation: “Love, affection, relationship, courtship, friendship, marriage, pleasure, joy.”

 

Procrastination happens when we do not love what we are supposed do and therefore we put off the task at hand by doing something we love to do more.

 

•   •   •

 

I somewhat do not like this deck, perhaps because the Little White Book totally sucks. The introduction starts out, “Argentina is a country brimming with esoteric possibilities. Our aboriginal mythology, rich and profound, always skirts around mystery, destiny and hope.”

[…and finishes…]

“Bringing this deck of cards to the public is the satisfying result of a search for inner symbols. The Tarot cards came out of my imagination, and the drawings by Napo came as a result of the knowledge of the cycles of life. We thus immerse myth in history and find the same meanings, the same question, as in the Tarot of the Middle Ages.”

 

Unfortunately, there is nothing in the book about what the esoteric possibilities of Argentina are, little mention of mythology or explanation of the symbols she used, no talk of what came out of her imagination, no mention about how she and Napo worked together, nothing. Mystery becomes uninteresting when there are zero clues. I’m glad she found her inner symbols. I am sure others of her culture understand the symbols of this deck better than I do. But because she does not help me relate, her symbols do nothing for me. Either that or I’m just grumpy because I’m really sleepy.