Based
on a dream of a friend, in hopes she can discover the place of peace.
The waters became silent and soon I found myself folding one leg over the other while maneuvering my fingers into my preferred mudra. I watched the spectacle that unfolded as she signed up to compete against the skillful mermen. I decided to focus on the beat of my heart, a steady percussion, accompanied by the sound of my breath as it entered and left my body. All the while I thought to myself: “What exactly is the difficulty in accepting limitation and what is one getting away with really?”
A whistle blew and soon the sounds around me were turned up. The mermen disguised as athletes lined up on the opposite side of the pool, filing into their perspective lanes. I saw my friend position herself at the end of one of these lanes. Ill prepared, she competed in her normal clothing. Her turn arrived as she waited for the whistle to blow. When it did, she jumped into the wrong side of the lane before her, failing to take note of the dark net which separated each of the lanes underneath the water’s surface. She had become gravelly entangled and soon, was unable to unravel herself, a skill she had not acquired. Screaming for help as her arms flailed in the water, she was in need of rescue. In disbelief everyone watched as she cried and screamed, as she waited for a nurturing hand to comfort another one of her mistakenly ill measured decisions. This was the story of her life, a chapter that I chose to skim over lightly.
Her life is a never ending cycle of traumatic events. Confined in the realm of the unfortunate sevens, she refuses to escape the sheltered views of her book; unable to swallow pride and the sense of false courage, the word of her testament. She knows not when to cease speaking to the tune of manipulation, a mode by which her deceptions are shielded. Aiming for expansion, she cares not for those amongst her. This is her signature mark, a trademark attributed to the unfortunate sevens. In despair she cries for truth and clarity, while in a state of elation, she embraces anything but. She resides within the safe haven of her delusions; a battery of self-inflicted wounds. Around and again goes the wheel of her deceit as she rejects to grasp the seven of the tangible, the authentic, of valor. She travels around this wheel fueled by the force of the unfortunate sevens safely within her pocket.
www.aldtarot.com
www.etsy.com/shop/aldtarot
info@aldtarot.com
Standing beside an Olympic sized pool, I
awaited to watch a swimming competition. I saw a friend far off, approaching
the pool as she spoke with another. I smiled and waved waiting for her to
return the gesture. She turned her face towards me, and upon seeing me, turned
away to ignore me. I steered my attention back towards the pool as I refused to
let her coldness of heart destructively affect me. I watched the Olympian
athletes gracefully warm up, as they practiced their well measured strokes and
breaths. As I stood there, the water called to me, a sound I imagined water
sirens were accustomed to. I was soon convinced through this melody, to examine
the experience to follow from within the realm of this liquid haven. Obeying
the call, I reached for my swim apparel and confidently tip toed to the far
edge of the pool. Once there, I asked the closest swimmer if I could take a
dip, taking care to not disturb their practice. With a warm welcome, this
swimmer, a merman in his own right, directed me to an enclosed area of the pool
by which I could partake in the experience. Excitedly, I hurried off to a
private corner and changed into my swim gear, a second skin of which I seemed
to have forgotten, just how comfortable I was in it.
Delightedly,
I returned to the pool. I felt cool liquid lap against my feet, water that
invited play, enticing my toes which hung over the pool’s edge. Bending one leg
at a time, my bottom met the tile beneath my feet, and with a gentle push, my
body was submerged. Liquid heaven, fluid and cool, I could see mermen gliding past
me, demonstrating their exquisite talents. In need of a breath, my arms pushed
against the liquid around me and soon my head met the surface of the water.
Treading and floating in this place felt second nature, as the mermen who swam
circles near me clearly enjoyed my presence. This was a place of peace.
Floating quietly as I did, the voice of my friend within earshot, I could hear
as she boasted of her swimming abilities. Her voice expanded as details of her
abilities grew by the second; a sound so horrid that it disrupted the peace of
all who dwelled within the fluid realm. Unlike the water that surrounded us,
her soul was unclear and her mind was riddled with the thoughts of lust over
personal recognition.The waters became silent and soon I found myself folding one leg over the other while maneuvering my fingers into my preferred mudra. I watched the spectacle that unfolded as she signed up to compete against the skillful mermen. I decided to focus on the beat of my heart, a steady percussion, accompanied by the sound of my breath as it entered and left my body. All the while I thought to myself: “What exactly is the difficulty in accepting limitation and what is one getting away with really?”
A whistle blew and soon the sounds around me were turned up. The mermen disguised as athletes lined up on the opposite side of the pool, filing into their perspective lanes. I saw my friend position herself at the end of one of these lanes. Ill prepared, she competed in her normal clothing. Her turn arrived as she waited for the whistle to blow. When it did, she jumped into the wrong side of the lane before her, failing to take note of the dark net which separated each of the lanes underneath the water’s surface. She had become gravelly entangled and soon, was unable to unravel herself, a skill she had not acquired. Screaming for help as her arms flailed in the water, she was in need of rescue. In disbelief everyone watched as she cried and screamed, as she waited for a nurturing hand to comfort another one of her mistakenly ill measured decisions. This was the story of her life, a chapter that I chose to skim over lightly.
Her life is a never ending cycle of traumatic events. Confined in the realm of the unfortunate sevens, she refuses to escape the sheltered views of her book; unable to swallow pride and the sense of false courage, the word of her testament. She knows not when to cease speaking to the tune of manipulation, a mode by which her deceptions are shielded. Aiming for expansion, she cares not for those amongst her. This is her signature mark, a trademark attributed to the unfortunate sevens. In despair she cries for truth and clarity, while in a state of elation, she embraces anything but. She resides within the safe haven of her delusions; a battery of self-inflicted wounds. Around and again goes the wheel of her deceit as she rejects to grasp the seven of the tangible, the authentic, of valor. She travels around this wheel fueled by the force of the unfortunate sevens safely within her pocket.
www.aldtarot.com
www.etsy.com/shop/aldtarot
info@aldtarot.com
