The Point: the Tarot in Energy Healing

Migraine headache: the pain splits my head open in all directions, crossing my brow, shooting down my neck and up through my third eye chakra. I check facebook to see what my loved ones are up to, and try to hold on to conscious thought. I watch a very weird 1971 animated flick called The Point (lots of occult imagery, suggestive scenes, age appropriate for grown-up kids?) while I down a pot and a half of what I call “Head Wellness Tea” (tonight’s formula is skullcap, blue vervain, passion flower) and anoint my pressure points with peppermint oil in attempts to maintain. In this state I am amazed my inner processor is running. At this point, I have a peppermint-oil splotch on my right knee. I must have needed a soak. I’ve come back to clean this up.

So, I do what I sometimes do when I really don’t know what to do. I know the outcome of lying down. The pain continues to pierce unabating, until I haven’t had enough sleep and I’m running late for work again. I pick up the deck that happens to be sitting next to my computer, shuffle the cards, and cut the deck three times. Maiden, Mother, Crone; Past, Present, Future; Center, Above, Below. Lady, Lord, Divine Child. I ask in my heart space, “What can I do to alleviate my headache?”

I flip over the 3 of Cups, Reversed.

In The Point, the protagonist, Oblio, meets three joyful dancing and singing ladies. The scene acutely reminded me of the 3 of Cups. I fantasized briefly of a themed Tarot deck (if the show isn’t too obscure, but maybe that is the point…). The joyful dancing and singing ladies seem to be made of balloons. All their parts are incredibly and noticeably round. In the scene, they draw Oblio into their joy and laughter and once his mood is lifted they bounce gleefully away. Drawing this card in the moment of this head splitting pain feels like something has come along to turn those ladies flat on their faces. This card is a call to examine relationships and refrain from empty connections. Physically, it can represent one hell of a hangover.

I thought that aspect didn’t apply to me, at first, but on further consideration I realized: I had a swallow of berry liqueur as I was cleaning a friend’s kitchen, to see if it was still good. I poured more than I needed to taste it (maybe a 1/3 ounce), took a bit, but rather than pour the rest out, I finished it. It was made with some pretty foul vodka. I didn’t even feel its effects, but I have had a raging headache since about 4 pm. I would have taken the liqueur at about 12:30 pm.

Fortunately, my biology is ensuring I will never be an alcoholic.

So, I redirect my question: “What is the root cause of this pain?”

The answer comes: XIII, Death, Reversed.

“Take Pains. Be Perfect.”

This past lunar eclipse has been like walking through a shadow. Reading The Stand by Stephen King (thanks, Mr. King) actually helped. A lot. A friend accused me of slipping into depression, but I was not afraid, rebutted the accusations, and spent time with myself, finishing the gazillion page book in 3 days, then processing gallons and pounds of food for the winter. Today, I helped another friend by cleaning a kitchen. I hope to make it back to do the job more thoroughly, this week. The circuit of giving continues. To be honest, I have confronted some crazy cycles, culminating with the peak of this lunation on Friday. Luckily, my daughter was with me. I get so much comfort from nurturing her, I’m glad I can keep this experience for when she’s older. Friday and Saturday, she and I just hung out together. No computer, just making food, eating together, playing pretend games, reading books, all that fun stuff. Sunday was our outing day. We went to the Unitarian Universalist service, where my daughter’s best friend attends, too (she hugged the girl upon sight, since the friend had been travelling the past month). We went food shopping. We visited some other friends who are going out of town, a group that happens to include another little girl who is a good friend with my daughter. We visited yet other friends who keep some goats and a few chickens and are kind enough to share. We then went on a hike with yet other people we know, and dogs, to boot, and my daughter got too confident on a rock wall and fell and twisted her wrist and her foot. I carried her a ways off, we rested on a couple of landscaping rocks for a while, and we chatted about the flamingos in the lawn of the house, for sale and vacant, that was so kind as to have rocks for us to sit on. She walked the rest of the way to the car, we picked up provisions, and headed out to the hills.

Out in a straw bail house with cedar paneling, down the road from a certain dam, my daughter hung upside down, backs of her knees on my shoulders, back to back, her ankles in my grip, as I spun around, dodging friends who nipped at her with their fingers, laughter ringing all around. When my daughter was done, I put her down, stopped, and blurted about how it re-enacted another dream I had dreamed, at the last October full moon. The dream had been terrifying, the play terrifically joyful. The dream was the portent against my return to Utah. The experience of my friends tickling my daughter on my back reinforced the feeling of rightness to be here, to be filling in the Faye-shaped place in others’ lives. Shortly after that dream, events brought me to meeting pretty literally the man of my dreams. Even though I feel right to be up here in Utah, I would give anything else but that feeling to be physically present every day with a certain someone. Where I live is up to where my daughter can live, and thanks to mutually poor communication skills in the relationship between my daughter’s father and me (and other circumstances I will not share in a public venue), plus Utah’s particular legal system, I have yet to win a pattern of taking our daughter out of the valley for the coldest months of winter to return in early March. Post Christmas, until her birthday. Worst of the winter months. Easier on everyone, right?

This morning: daughter snoring, sunshine, cold house, wool blankets, box elder bugs, gluten free pancakes, maple syrup. A guy with dogs chatted with our host, then a carpenter showed up to build a storage bench. I stayed after the host left to tidy up the kitchen. So there it is. A miniscule dose of cheap vodka and loud carpentry work, then, my downfall. I even downed a quart of water before we left for home.

Death. Passage of a matter in terms of an age, an eon, a state of being, a relationship, a phase of life. Reversed, indicates clinging onto the past, resistance to death, feeling overwhelmed, confronting secrets about sex.

The Stand explores an experience of the stillness of a death widespread and gloomy. Solitude. A year ago this month, Hazel and I embarked on a journey through the wilderness. We stayed in Moab and Gallup on our way to Las Cruces, New Mexico. The plan was a couple of weeks, the result was four beautiful crazy months. We had no close calls on the way there, it was like God’s Hand pointed our way and Guardian Angels lit the exit ramps. Once I got turned around just long enough to take an old vet to his home on reservation lands (Navajo) just as night was falling. I drove carefully, a bit spooked by lore I’ve heard from people with firsthand experience, but a child waved at our car on the way out and I knew we were safe. Our friends spotted us a hotel room in Gallup, and the wheel turned.

I feel like in some ways I’ve been resisting the turning of the wheel, ever since coming back. These moments are so precious, and I want so much that I can’t hold all at once, I’m battling the fear of losing it, all over again. 

The pain comes out through my nose, like worms in my brain. It pounds hammers on the inside of my forehead like impish dwarven miners. I think through the pain, I think with the pain, and maybe none of this will make sense.

In a short answer, the key to my headaches, is: Avoid listening to others over myself, drink more water, and don’t drink ANY hard liquor. Not even a taste.

Meanwhile, I’ve further explored my own walk with my own mortality and humanness.

I’ve just shared all this super-personal stuff so that you might glimpse how my personal revelations work, and how closely I work with the Tarot. All of this post was written in stream-of-consciousness, which I perform as an exercise with the Tarot. Most of the time, my thoughts run too fast, but the result is the same answer I would get, as if I were to write it all out.

My headache dulls, in the way that the last rolls of thunder peel off in the distant. Piercing turns to pressure. I stop to stretch and take off my glasses. Past my bed time. Tomorrow, raking and cutting down. Weeding and pruning. Hopefully the aura of my headache is light.

Blessings on all, and goodnight.


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