I Buy My Tarot Deck Today

I used one of the instructor’s decks yesterday. There’s a theory that no one should touch your cards, but I think I’m going to be a little lenient on that one, too. I’m no purist.

Last night, we learned the Major Arcana. I laughed out loud when I found out that the High Priestess “doesn’t say much.” I have a lot to learn from her. 

The High Priestess is the Higher Knower. “She’s like a dark, mysterious woman,” Margaret taught. I remembered the African idol of my childhood dreams, who came to life but never spoke. She only sang that song. It called to me! I was afraid of her, but intrigued and immensely attracted. Interestingly, in that dream we ran to Grandpa’s house in Pocatello, Idaho. Every time. He could easily represent the Emperor, the keeper of orthodoxy. Viewed this way, I see so clearly that I was frightened of what I didn’t understand: A spiritual path that had no familiar rule book. Even in my sleep, I tried to fit into the Mormon Church! But with my Barbies, I chanted that High Priestess’ song until it was discovered, discouraged, and forgotten.

(My paternal ancestral grandmother, my dear angelic friend, Abigail Smith Abbott, dreamed music, too. As a young woman, she learned the hymn of a people dressed in white walking through a flat, grassy plain. When she woke, she sang to it to her friends. Later, she joined the Mormon Church and made that journey across this country to the beautiful valley I call home. I’m willing to bet that on the way they sang a song she already knew. https://wildwesterngirl.wordpress.com/2012/02/28/abigails-own-words-and-the-sordid-story-of-my-book/)

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