Disclosure doesn’t mean exposure

I’ve had Tarot card readings before. As a paid up punter –  never on the house and never in my house. Some at fairly dodgy addresses. So Sundays sitting was different from the get-go. There was my sister and Michelle, an American pal visiting, who produced the Motherpeace round tarot deck just as we were finishing our supper. So we made a clearing in amongst the crockery. ‘The Motherpeace Tarot celebrates the power of the Goddess and illuminates wisdom from a variety of cultures and from the earth herself’. I could do with some of that . We worked from the deck and an essential book of interpretations. These being circular, there were upright, reversed, left and right interpretations to choose from.  I was the first one to cut the deck and lay my cards.

Turning the cards over, I felt as though I was in the ladies shower room, butt naked, chatting away like this was a totally normal state of affairs, and I  was totally cool about stripping when clearly I wasn’t. I reminded myself that I was an open book with nothing to hide. I’m not though. But I didn’t call a halt so on we went. And I did get a good hand. There were a couple of funny moments. I didn’t get hung up on the specifics. I think I would have put a positive spin on whatever came up. I was prepared to filter. The cards spelt out my location – a good place. The right place.

It could have been different. I nearly didn’t spot that we were a card out to start. Reading card 2 for card 1 and so on. Or maybe that wouldn’t have mattered so much. For the main it was jaunty. The cards led on to chat and chat led on to tears. Tears to fears then back to more tears before we called time. DH was still awake when I crept in beside him at 3am. I whispered ‘A lot of shit has gone down’. I ruminated for a further hour cutting a quarter out of my bed hours. I’m tired since.

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