Let’s All Drink from the Ace of Cups

Posted in Blogging Memes, Bookworm Tales, Hestia's Hearth, It's In The Cards, Poetry, Quotents, Soul Food Cafe Fun, Tarot Journey with tags , , , , , , on 29/06/2010 by gwenguin1

The Ace of Cups

For Heather

In my favourite deck

(The Thoth-Crowley Deck)

The Ace of Cups rises from a

Fully open white lotus blossom,

Which is the symbol of

Love of a giving nature. 

It is the feminine counterpart of

The Ace of Wands;

Open, receptive, surrendering;

Bearing the transformatory

Power of giving love.

The key words are overflowing love,

Emotional clarity,

Deep love of the self,

Giving and receiving.

The giving of love happens effortlessly. 

That which continually flows into us from

The boundless abundance of the

Universe radiates outward again by itself,

If we remain open and receptive.

This giving is not dependent on individual,

Perhaps close people. 

There is so much to share! 

All of existence can take part in it. 

Becoming one with the

All-embracing,

Omnipresent love

Is such a silent ecstasy.

The affirmation is:

All-encompassing love fills me and my environment.

From The Wheel of Change:

The cup is a potent symbol of

Containment,

Protection, and

Enclosure.  

It is a vessel of magic,

Allowing us to control liquids

That would otherwise

Escape our practical use. 

The cup or chalice is also associated

With the original container of life,

The womb.

The Ace of Cups

Is the most

Elemental and

Original expression

Of the

Water Element.

All life originally

Evolved in the

Primordial

Womb of the

Sea.

It was the

Dark,

Concealing,

Protective

Mother;

Where life was

Cradled

Before it

Emerged and

Crawled to land.

Again:

The central cup of this card

Is the Ardagh Chalice,

One of the finest

Examples

Of early

Christian Celtic art,

Crafted in Ireland

In the early eighth Century.

Ireland is a

Mystical land of

Water and feeling.

The mist of the

Island, and its

Green foelds

Represent the

Fertile Goddess and

Her mystery,

Which lives

So deep in the

Hearts of the

Irish People.

The Ace represents

Emotion in an

Undivided state,

A type of

Feeling we rarely

Experience

As we grow

Older and learn to

Stand back from

Our feelings

So that we may

Interpret and

Analyse them.

In the

Rumi Tarot,

The Ace of Cups

Represents the

Intoxicating wine of

Divine Ecstasy

Imbibed within the

Tavern of Ruin

Served by the

Cupbearer, or

Saki , as

Celebrated by many

Arab-Persian poets.

This

Talismanic Cup is the

Jewelled Chalice of

Jamshid,

The mythical

King of Persia,

Which contained the

Divine Elixer of

Intoxication and

Immortality, and in

Whose Depths

All things occurring in the

Seven Heavenly

Spheres were revealed to

The Seer.

The cup,

Chalice, or

Vessel also

Symbolises the

Feminine womb,

Which in the

Arabic language is

Called

Rahim.

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And Another Blitz Poem

Posted in Blogging Memes, Bookworm Tales, My Inspirations, Poetry, Quotents with tags , , on 29/06/2010 by gwenguin1

Trees In Belt

Researching my family tree

Researching the Norse World Tree

Trees in bloom

Trees in the wind

Wind in my hair

Wind in the wires

Wires in the wall

Wires on the poles

Poles have shifted before

Poles immigrated to America

America the Beautiful

America, Land of the Brave

Brave Pioneers

Brave New World

World in Black and White

World without end

End of the book

End of the line

Line on paper

Line in the sand

Sand between my toes

Sand on the beach

Beach at the ocean

Beach the boats

Boats bobbing on the waves

Boats tied at anchor

Anchor the poster to the wall

Anchored in the real world

World of Warcraft game

World of magic

Magic act

Magic both High and Low

Low prices for one week only

Low-pressure front is stalled

Stalled the lawn mower

Stalled at the starting line

Line of descent

Line forms here

Here is my house

Here is the victim

Victim of circumstance

Victim of the times

Times are changing

Times are listed below

Below the waterline

Below the belt

Belt out the tune

Belt of rotgut

Rotgut

Tune

Found Poetry

Posted in Blogging Memes, Bookworm Tales, Call Me The Seeker, Everday Living, Hestia's Hearth, It's In The Cards, Soul Food Cafe Fun, Tarot Journey, You can do these! with tags , , , , , , , , on 05/06/2010 by gwenguin1

My friend Shiloh did a post on Found Poetry a couple days ago {http://sunnydreamer.net/2010/found-poetry1.shtml}  and I thought that I would give it a try, Since almost all of my fiction books await me in storage, I went ahead and used books form my grimoire they ended up being books that accompany two of my Tarot decks: The Wheel of Change Tarot and the Thoth-Crowley Tarot.

 

The Thoth-Crowley is the deck I use the most for my personal queries, and the card I have chosen as my Significator was one of the cards that the book opened to; The Queen of Wands (or Staves, or Batons).  Since she appeared and she reflects a lot of what the affirmations are saying I have also used the post for my tarot Journey with the Rumi Tarot.

 

 

Found Poetry One:

Wheel of Change Tarot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The Fool is

An expression of the

Possibilities that

Cannot be fixed,

And are open-ended.

 

The Hermit represents

What is really

True and right

For you

 Is within you

Waiting to be noticed.


The Wheel of Fortune

Asks you to

Make an opportunity

For self-understanding and

Self-growth through the

Mirror of the outer world.


From the Three of Wands

We learn that

The personal goal

Is to use your creative power

In a way that enhances

Your own life and

The lives of others.


On the Ace of Cups

The central Cup

Is the Ardagh Chalice

One of the

Finest examples of

Early Christian Celtic art.
 It represents

The soul’s journey

Toward the setting sun

And the Western Lands.

 

The Lands of Shadow

And Darkness. 

It is there

That we discover

Our deepest passions

and make connexions

With others that

transcend our limitations

 

 

Found Poetry Two

The Thoth-Crowley Tarot Deck

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

This one speaks from The Thoth-Crowley Tarot Deck, which is my personal favourite for Spiritual Lessons.   I think I will use a series of the Affirmations from this deck.

 

 

I am now ready for the new beauty in my life.
(Princess of Discs or Pentacles)

I find the strength I now need in my centre.
(Three of Wands or Staves)

I surrender to the transforming powers of the Divine. I am an open channel for creative energy.
(Art or Temperance)

I know more and more clearly who I am.  This recognition leads to the full development of my personal strength.
(Nine of Wands or Staves)

I am loved, simply because I am the way that I am.
(Nine of Swords)

I am a radiant being filled with Light and Love.
(Queen of Wands or Staves)

I am now ready to give everything and receive everything.
(Three of Discs or Pentacles)

I have the power and virtue to reflect and know.
(Three of Wands or Staves)

I relax and trust Life.
(Eight of Discs or Pentacles)

I have the courage to believe that all that happens in my life serves for the best.

(Seven of Discs or Pentacles)

 

 

Joseph’s Return

Posted in Call Me The Seeker, Everday Living, Family History, Hestia's Hearth, Misspent Youth, Old Deep Roots, The Family Tees with tags , , , , , , on 02/06/2010 by gwenguin1

The short story below is based on both my genealogical res3earch, and a family legend about ‘Big Joe’ DuBay:

‘Manda watched the road every day for Joseph’s return, she knew that the heavy frosts at night would send the loggers home from the camp for the winter.  She dreaded the summers, with him somewhere in the eerily dense forests beyond their small farm.  She didn’t complain about being the one to tend the crops and care for the animals, she was used to the hard work. 

She even enjoyed the opportunity to wear pants instead of her heavy skirts.  She was cooler as she walked the rows of corn, squash, tomatoes, beans, and even some rice in the lowest part of their property.  The wheat and hay was saved for the cows and Joseph’s prized Percheron pair, a well-matched mare and stallion.  They needed little in the way of aids to plough deep and straight rows for planting, or to mow the hay that kept them sleek and healthy all winter.

Elle and Homme produced a fine foal every year, this year Elle had foaled late, and Joseph did not know that this year’s colt was black instead of dapple-grey.  Petit Noir was already getting large and powerful, although he was less than six months old.  She petted him every day, and had woven a halter for the colt out of strips of waste fabric from her sewing.  How he had strutted the first day she had settled it on his fuzzy black head!

How pleased Joseph would be to return to a farm ready for the winter; she had a pantry full of canned and dried fruit from the woods, She had traded in town for flour, sugar, and coffee.  She had gotten a good price for their weaner pigs, especially the gilt that had red and black spots on her white hide.  They stood to have a good winter, thanks to both of their hard work.

Their dog, a woolly mixed breed barked, and she heard the joy in his voice, only Joseph’s return would cause that, the children they already had charged out the door, calling, “Papa!  Papa!”

‘Manda followed them, taking time to wrap a shawl around her shoulders, the fringe moving in time with her strides.  She smiled to herself, by the light of the lantern she could see him distributing maple sugar candy to their children, taking the time to hug each one and greet them by name.  He lifted little George to his shoulders and trotted towards her.

“’Manda, my dear wife, I ‘ave missed you so!  Augustus ‘as no skill at the cooking, I am wearied of bacon and beans with black bread.”  He held her close and inhaled the scent of lavender that always clung to her clothes, and her.

“Zhoseph!  I am so glad to see you too.  Now I will sleep well at night again.  Allez, I ‘ave a fine roast boeuf for dîner with potatoes, beets, and a fine pain complet.

“Ahhhh… I will eat well again! ‘Ow much wood ‘ave we for the winter?”  Though he spoke lightly ‘Manda could hear something in his voice, a sadness he had not had before he left last spring.

“Zhoseph, what ‘as ‘appened?”

“Later, we will talk of it later ma petite.”  He leaned over; far enough to kiss the carpenter’s square perfect part in her dark hair.  He had spent the summer dreaming of watching her brush it at night, with a single candle bathing her in a golden halo of light.

Joseph’s pre-dinner prayer of thanks was heartfelt, even more deeply than usual.  The lamps glowed brightly over the dinner, shining on ‘Manda’s china and silver, both decorated with golden D’s.  The table itself gleamed from the patient sanding and oiling Joseph had lavished on it.

Dinner lasted late into the evening, Joseph told the children tales of the kinkajou that had terrorised the trappers, and the doe that had so little fear of them that she raised her twin fawns within sight of their single large cabin.  The loggers had taken to leaving treats for the family on a convenient stump.  By late summer the fawns would follow Augustus around, butting him with nubs of horns to beg for treats.

Pierre, the dog, gnawed happily on a beef bone under the trestle table Joseph had built to hold their growing family.  Little George was settled in Joseph’s lap, leaning trustingly against his father’s 6’5”, well-muscled form.  His dark eyes would flutter closed and then open in determination as soon as he heard his father’s voice.

Finally, after a treat of hot chocolate all of the children fell asleep under hand-sewn quilts on their bed of woven rope, under a down mattress.  George was rocking slowly in the small bed, Joseph’s foot happily taking his turn at rocking their baby.

“Now, Joseph, tell me what has darkened your heart so?”  ‘Manda took her husband’s calloused hands in her own.

“Ahhh, my ‘Manda, a terrible thing ‘appen this summer….” Joseph could not bring himself to look at his dainty, fearless wife.

“You know ‘ow the men are, they grow bored in the evening and seek something to fill the hours they would rather spend with their families.  They will drink, gamble, and ‘ave fights to pass these lonely times.  I usually spend the time reading, or praying to Le Bon Dieu.  I rarely take a drink for drinking will lead to foolish acts

“One night, I did take a drink, I ached worse than usual because the saw had kicked back so many times on an ancien oak.  I will not lie; I took more than one drink.

“The men were fighting one another, boxing and wrestling.  Paddy, le petit Irlandais, drank more than any and grew hostile.  He wished me to fight with ‘im, but I told ‘im non, for he is so much smaller than I, it could never be a fair fight.

“’E would not take my no for an answer and he attack me.  I ‘ad no choice but to defend myself.  I ‘ated to raise my ‘and to a friend so I did not ‘it as ‘ard as I can, I make a slow uppercut.

Unfortunelment, he sharge me as I did this, I ‘it Paddy in the nose.  He immediately fell down and did not get back up.  Augustus check, and Paddy ‘ad died from that one blow.

“’Ow can I ever go to ‘Eaven to be with Le Bon Dieu et L’enfant Jesu after I ‘ave killed my friend?  I must spend the rest of my life trying to return to God’s favour.

“I promise you, I will never drink again, nor raise my ‘and to any living thing.  I will dedicate my life to Le Bon Dieu.  From zees day forwar’ I will not swear and I will pray as often as I can…”

“Zhoseph, my dear, it was not your fault, le pauvre Paddy made the mistakes.”  ‘Manda cupped her husband’s face in her hands.

Joseph’s face crumpled and he began to sob, tearing sobs that shook his whole frame.  Manda stood and buried his face in her stomach, to muffle his cries and not disturb the children.

“It will be all right, my dear, have zee authorities been notified?”

“Yes, Enri rode into the nearest town and brought their sheriff back.  After he had spoken with everyone he said that Paddy’s death was an unfortunate accident, and that no-one would be charged.”

“When we go to Mass Sunday…” ‘Manda began.

“I ‘ave already ask Pere Robidaux to say a Mass for Paddy every morning, I pay ‘im too.  I ‘ave also made arrangements to ‘elp ‘is widow and children.  I personally rode to their ‘ome and apologise to Madame O’Brien…”

“Ahhhhh mon brave, you ‘ave t’ought of ever’t’ing.  What did Pere Robidaux say of all this?

After I confess to ‘im, ‘e give me a penance, an’ ‘e tell me God ‘as forgiven me.  I cannot yet forgive myself for what ‘appened.”

“I know Zhoseph, I do not blame you, and I will always love you, for you are a truly good man.”

Ma petite, ‘ow did I ever get so fortunate as to ‘ave you for my bride?”

“You make me laugh, right in the middle of Mass!”  ‘Manda kissed Joseph and smiled brightly.

It was then that Joseph knew that he was truly home.

Yeah, Well… My family was…

Posted in Call Me The Seeker, Everday Living, Family History, Hestia's Hearth, Old Deep Roots, Soul Food Cafe Fun, Stuff And Nonsense, The Family Tees with tags , , , , , on 24/05/2010 by gwenguin1

 

“If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people.”
~Thich Nhat Hanh~ 

 

There are any number of people (I’m one) who talk about what their ancestors did and who their ancestors were.  I can’t remember the quote I read about someone bragging about their ancestors is like a turnip; the best part of them is underground.

  
 I’m also one of those who wonder if the tall tales of ancestors are the truth or not.
 Can someone prove that his or her ancestor was tossing tea into the Boston Harbor?  Was someone’s Great-Great-great-Great Uncle was supposed to go to Little Big Horn with Yellow Hair, but they were ill and the fort Doctor said no to them going?
 
 How can one go about proving their boasts on generations past?  Simple, you do your family tree, or have it done.  Shiloh and I are doing this, and see the opportunity for a lot of writing, both journalistic and creative.


 I have been doing mine for about 6 months now and have followed one branch of eight Great-Grandparents all the way back to the 7th century.  I doubt I’ll see any more go back that far but you never know.


 Shiloh has been working on hers for a couple weeks so she’s still in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.  We both hope to find ancestors in common.

I hope to prove that there is Native American in my family tree.  Shiloh wants to know more about her Danish ancestors.


 We both want to do a series of posts about where our ancestors were during a specific historical event.  Par example, both of our families were already here in the U. S. for the Civil War/War of Northern Aggression.


 Since this is a joint project, you’ll be able to access all the posts we make on each of our personal blogs.  We’ll provide an archive and links to the posts so you’ll be able to track our progress.

 

Here is where you will be able to access everything from Shiloh’s Blog:

 

http://sunnydreamer.net/2010/ancestry-series.shtml

Living History

Posted in Everday Living, Old Deep Roots, Reviews and Previews, Stuff And Nonsense, You can do these! with tags , , , , , , , on 13/05/2010 by gwenguin1

 Below is a taste of living history- 2010 is the 150th anniversary of the Pony Express here in the US.

I  read a book many years ago, and many times called “Mustang-Wild Spirit of the West” , in the book “Wild Horse Annie” testifies before the US Supreme Court, that the Mustang, then being hunted for meat, was the only horse the Pony Express would use for the very difficult mountain terrain. 

The wiry, compactly tough little mustang was a descendant of the Andalusian horses brought here  by the Conquistadores, and then bred with horses that escaped or were ‘borrowed’ from white settlers during the days of the Wild West.

 
 

 
St. Joseph, Missouri - Where the Pony Express Began and Jesse James Ended.


 
 


Pony Express
Pony Experss
 

 


Relive the Excitement! Witness the 150th Pony Express Re-Ride.

If you missed the April 3, 2010, 150th celebration of the launch of the Pony Express, you won’t want to miss the National Pony Express Association’s Annual Re-Ride over the 1,966 mile route of the Pony Express National Historic Trail from California, through Nevada, Utah, Wyoming, Nebraska, Colorado, and Kansas to Missouri, June 6 to 26, 2010. The event commemorates the Pony Express of 1860-1861. This year marks the 150th Anniversary of the Pony Express. The Central Overland and California Pikes Peak Express Company carried letters and telegrams for 19 months to prove the Central Route through Salt Lake passable year round. The owners hoped to win a federal mail contract on that route. Pony Express history is preserved in the federally designated Historic Trail, administered by the National Park Service, in museums, Pony Rider monuments, books, and the annual re-creations by the NPEA.

Normally, this Re-Ride is a 10-day, 24-hour a day, non-stop event by over 500 riders and horses. In 2010 the Annual Re-Ride will divert to all daytime hours in most places. This gives the Divisions and other entities/communities a chance to hold a celebration. The mail will be carried by rivercraft from San Francisco to Sacramento before the start of the re-ride .

Each of the eight “Pony Express” states (California, Nevada, Utah, Wyoming, Nebraska, Colorado, Kansas, and Missouri) will also celebrate the 150th Anniversary of the Pony Express with events of their own, as well as, creating their own souvenirs.

The Re-Ride concludes on Saturday, June 26, 2010, at the Patee House Museum. In honor of the conclusion of the National Pony Express Association’s annual re-ride, at 10 a.m. the Missouri chapter of the NPEA will hold a colorful circa-1860 procession from the foot of Francis Street at the St. Joseph riverfront through downtown St. Joseph, past the famed Pony Express statue and original stables at the Pony Express Museum…ending with the arrival of the horses and mochila (mail bag) at the Patee House Museum, site of the original Pony Express headquarters. In a moving ceremony, commemorative letters carried from California will be turned over to the US Postal Service for delivery in St. Joseph-just like in the days of the Pony Express! Admission to the Patee House is $5 for adults and $3 for students; Admission to the Jesse James Home is $3 for adults and $1.50 for students, www.ponyexpressjessejames.com; (816) 232-8206.
 
St. Joseph, MO, has created a PX150 Sesquicentennial Facebook Page full of information happening around St. Joseph during 2010 for this anniversary year. Click HERE for additional information about the history of the Pony Express, 2010 Pony Express Sesquecentennial Event Calendar, and FREE downloads for your mobile phone.

 

 

 

Quick Link

 

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American Road magazine on:
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American Road Magazine | PO Box 46519 | Mt. Clemens | MI | 48046

The Story of the Green Man and his White Lady

Posted in Hestia's Hearth, It's In The Cards, My Inspirations, Soul Food Cafe Fun, Tarot Journey, You can do these! with tags , , , , , , , on 13/05/2010 by gwenguin1

Once upon a time, in a small kingdom by the edge of a wide, sweet sea there lived a King and Queen who reigned happily over their people.  There was but one wee grey cloud in sll the kingdom…  

 

The King and Queen were only able to have one child…


 The Lady Anemone Fionn, a daughter they deeply adored, for all that she was a solemn, chubby child who preferred the company of books and commoners to days spent gossiping in the court.   Since she was not the prettiest of children and did not have the sprightly temperament of many princesses, they despaired of her ever being happily wed.

 

 So she was allowed to wander among the commoners in sparrow-brown garb, where she learned about love and kindness, as well as tolerance in the huts and shops of the capital city.   As she began to grow older, she accepted the training she would need to be their heir without complaint or rebellion.  She wished to serve her country with the best she could be.

 

 

It was early in her training that the first letter from the Green Man came to them, aboard a gaily-painted ship, with sails of exotic silks.  One of the letters was given up to the King and Queen, requesting their daughter’s hand in marriage when she came of age.

 

 The other letter was delivered to the young Lady; from that day on she kept all of the Green Man’s letters in a box of delicate silver filigree.  She wore the key to the box around her neck on a plain silvery chain.

 

“Anemone Fionn, Sweet lady of the Beaches, you hold my heart in your gentle hands.  My Spirit sings at the merest thought of you, and my heart beats in tune with thine.  When the day comes that all see the beauty I do I shall claim you as my beloved bride.”

 

 His words had lost no power since they had been given to her by a man from the Green Man’s country when she had not yet blossomed into womanhood.
 
 

When the arrogant young princelings would laugh at her face and form she would reread them and find much comfort in the words he had written only for her.

 

 When no nearby princes or kings asked for her hand, she begged her parents to accept the Green Man’s pledge, and betroth her to the man who had comforted her, and sparked her mind to discover more about the world than any other Princess deigned to pretend to know.

 

And so it came to pass, after many long years that the Green Man wrote to the Lady and told her.  “I will be with you in truth with the coming of summer my sweet Lady Anemone.”

 

Faioléan the seagull perched close to the sorrowful lady and spoke in his skree-ing language.  “Weep not my lady fair.  The Uaine Fear, comes to claim thee, sailing across the wide green seas.”

 

 

The lady did return, “O Faioléan tell me true, does he love this plain face of mine?”

 

 

“Fear not fair Lady Anemone, the Uaine Fear comes for you, seeking yon beauty across the wide, green seas

 

 

The Seagull hopped close enough for the Lady to smell the sea and fish on his feathers, his bright eye locked with hers.

 

 

“Fear not dear Lady, for the Uaine Fear cometh to you, seeking your beauty and pure spirit.”

 

 

So the lady returned day after day, waiting by the ocean for this secret lover who sought her.

 

 

Her pale cheeks were given a golden glow by the sun’s light, and the gentle, salt air of the ocean soothed her breathing so much so that she even stopped coughing.

 

 

The dull brown hair that had been so lifeless and limp began to have secret tints of gold in its curls.

 

 

The longer she remained by the sea, and forsook the rich food and many sweets in the castle the slimmer her limbs became, and her skin became smooth and honeyed.

 

 Every day the same gull was at her side, reassuring her of the Green Man’s advance across the wide, sweet sea.
 
 

Every day, the sailors on the docks, calling to her how pretty she was becoming, greeted the Lady and she would thank them prettily for their kind words.

 

 

Every night as she lay in her soft, fluffy bed the Green Man would send nightingales to sing her to sleep.  In their sweet voices she heard the words the Green Man had written to her all those years ago.

 

 

One summer day, years ago, the Green Man gifted her with vibrant silks to clothe herself with.  They had delicate laces, golden and silver buttons, the fur of exotic animals, and rare jewels to sew to the clothes with Thread-of-Gold.

 

Every season the Lady would take them out and ponder dresses from them, and them put them away, until she would have a fairer form to wear them upon.

 

 

One day as she dressed in another drab gown, that now hung off her like sails on a windless sea, her ladies-in-waiting all conspired to measure her for a new gown. 

 

While the Lady waited at the shore for the Green Man, the ladies in waiting made her a new gown, from a deep peacock blue silk, trimmed with Peacock’s feathers and Thread-of-Silver, and many, many tiny pearls crusting the bodice.
 

When the lady returned that evening, and began to ready herself for dinner her ladies-in-waiting slipped the blue gown over her head, and styled her hair to show off the golden dusting on the soft curls.

 

 The Lady looked in her polished silver mirror, and stared.  Surely this lovely creature brushed in gold dust couldn’t be her!!   

From whence had come the womanly curves, and kissable freckles?

 

 

The same princes and Kings who had jested at her expense gathered about her, each vying for her full attention.

 

 

She laughed and treated them with tolerance, but none of them turned her head from the Green Man, who had sought her hand when no others would.

 

 

Night after night, she fended off a parade of handsome Princes and Kings.  Day after day her ladies fashioned another gown, trying to outdo the previous one in beauty and uniqueness.

 

 

Day after day she watched the seas for some sign of the green Man’s bright sails on the horizon.

 

 

At last there was only white silk that seemed to hide all other colours in its shadows left in her case of fabrics.

 

 

She took it out and caressed it, delighting in the way it slid through her fingers.  “I wish to save this gown for when my future husband, the Green Man, arrives.  And this is how I want it to look.”

 

 

And so it was that her ladies fashioned a gown to be the envy of every highborn woman in every country.

 

 

It was of clean and simple lines, and a bodice set with squares of abalone, mother-of-pearl, and lapis lazuli set in it like a necklace.  With Thread-of-Silver, they embroidered circles of ivy, mistletoe sprigs, holly, and white roses along the bottom of the gown.

 

 

The lady went to the Royal Jeweller and asked him to make her a discrete coronet.  A silver band to sit among her curls, engraved with flowers, and set with magical stones that continued in the silver netting that fell to the ground.

 

 

The lady tried it on, and she was well pleased and thanked her ladies-in-waiting with generous gifts and sweet words of gratitude.

 

 

And so, not long after, she spied a black spot on the horizon.  Her heart beat so she could barely breathe, and she ran home, calling for her ladies in waiting as soon as she had seen the bright colours of the Green Man’s sails.

 

 

Once she was dressed in her white gown and she had caught her breath she returned to the docks to await the Green Man.

 

 

At long last, the Green Man’s fleet filled the harbour, their sails were each of a different pattern of silk, and they lay at anchor peacefully.

 

 

With all due ceremony, and great pomp, the Green Man walked from his ship, across the plank, and onto the dock, where the Lady awaited him with bright eyes and glowing smile.

 

 

She could see nothing of his face behind a cunningly carved emerald mask.  At last they stood face to face, and still he held up the mask.

 

 “

My Dear Lady of the Blue Harbour.  Will you still wed me?”

 

 

The Lady answered happily. “I have awaited this day forever and a day, yes, I will wed you.”

 

 

At last the Green Man took down his mask, showing everyone an ugly, twisted old man’s face with spindly legs and potbelly.

 

 

“One last time I would ask thee.  Wilt thou marry me as I am?”

 

 

“I will marry thee, whether thou art handsome or no.  You have always treated me with gentleness and respect, and have gifted me with loveliness and comfort.  Yes, I will gladly call you husband, and follow wherever thou wilt go.”  The Lady knelt in her white raiment and kissed the wrinkled hand tenderly.

 

 

The Green Man threw back his cape and dashed the mask to pieces on the dock’s planks.  “And so our love will be fulfilled.!!”

 

 

In a flash of golden light he stood tall, becoming a young and very handsome prince, medals at his breast and a golden crown covered in rare jewels sat amongst his golden brown curls.  His sea green eyes were afire with love for the Lady.

 

“When I was young a Sorceress cursed my Kingdom and me.  Neither would know a happy day, or prosperity until I would be accepted by a Lady who did not recoil at the ugliness she set upon me.”

 

 

And so it was that the Green Prince and his White Lady were married and travelled to his Kingdom on the other side of the deep, sweet sea, where they lived happily ever after, and made sure that the people of their kingdoms would know happiness as well.

 

 

Again, what has this to do with out Tarot Journey?  This surely is The Lovers of the Major Arcana.  The choice between love and lust, a true connexion, and a passing fling.

  

 

The Lovers

"Love has a thousand feathers."