I rise from my chair today walking serene and sedate, gliding upon the stairs like a wedding barge upon the Nile that is bearing some Egyptian Princess towards her waiting King. I feel witnessed by the four Queens of Binah as I go to meet the doorway, and push through the heavy satin folds of the Three of Swords. Heavy plush silken swathes of indigo and grey rub softly against my naked arms, cool and slippery, sliding sensuously across my skin, as I struggle against them in my efforts to gain access to the realm of this card. I am shrouded in the darkness of the doorway and it seems that I can feel hands pulling at me, pawing me and holding me back, preventing me from moving forward, but I strain against their insistent clawing, and break through their soft strength, emerging finally onto a forest pathway. Dark lofty trees stretch high into the inky sky, looming scarily on all sides, concealing all manner of fears, and I am terrified by that which I cannot see, rooted to the path, unaware of which way to go, and unable to move, even if I did know.
Up ahead a shining luminosity emerges from the obscurity, and as I start to focus on it I see a large white owl, sat in a particularly large tree some distance in front of me. I walk gratefully towards the beacon of light that the Owl has formed in the darkness of the shadowy forest, and as I reach her I stop and look up as she sits there in the calm serenity of her wisdom. I ask this icon of feminine wisdom what she can tell me on this journey, and she speaks to me of the necessity of listening to my intuition, that the eyes of my body see only the fears of my monkey mind, and that my vision can be too narrow, that I must close my tired eyes and learn to see with my inner vision, my instinct and my intuition, and allow the skills of the Priestess to emerge. She tells me that the intellect cannot act alone effectively and that if I use all three together that I will finally see with the clarity that I have been seeking.
I listen intently to her words, and I do as she tells me, focusing on my inner vision, and I allow the forest to fall away and to go out of focus, to slip into a mesh of fractals and misty memories. Gradually the forest becomes bathed in light, and I find that I can see far into the trees and that the darkness is receding, leaving me sure of my way.
I thank the Owl and I move on towards the clearer area that I can now see beyond the trees, where I come upon a kind of courtyard area built of soft yellow sandstone where three women, a lady and her two attendants weep uncontrollably, the two attendants supporting and comforting the woman who is weeping most. I stand and witness the grieving Moirai type women and listen to the mutterings that issue from their tortured mouths.
“It is the pain of feeling, the sadness and loss of women, of mother, of grandmother, of all women back to the darkness of old, we are linked by blood and history to these times and places, a channel that runs through time like a stream of consciousness, speaking in the rooms of our minds, echoing the loss that we have endured, the pain and the suffering, magnifying and focusing, decking us with the jewels of our ancestors. Speak of them for they cannot, still quiet and silent as the grave, they that will never be heard again, for who can remember their broken hearts, the inconstant lovers, the tears you dried of children who have forsaken you. Along with you they travel, hope and sadness hand in hand, the prayers of mothers, the kisses of lovers, listening still to the step of their beloved, they ache for a touch, a breath, a word from you, that will bear it hence; their love and hurt, carry it forward, to run from your pen and ink, not run in your veins like blood, for they would be like succubae and take the life from within you bearing you down into the dark earth, forever buried in grief. Write their stories upon the page, of those women who knew paper not, those dreamers you listen to…… set them free to walk amongst the stars once more, spoken of and remembered, held in a mind, a heart, to live again one fleeting moment before they turn and disappear into eternity with no echo but love.”
I ask for some knowledge about this situation and I understand that they are weeping for the loss of endless possibility, that when you have chosen a path, revealed a plan, willingly or not, then that means that all other plans for now, are lost, that they are weeping for all the lost possibilities and potentials, the spoiled perfections of women since time immemorial. I am completely overwhelmed by the grief of the women, for it shows me the depth of my own grief, and the archetypal connection that I have with those of my kind, how I could become sucked in to an endless grieving process, but that the key is to move on from this state and to carry on with the process.
The soft folds of brain activity embrace and envelop me, where intuition and instinct rule and the waters are endless and ill defined. Intellect is required to cut through this, to make a choice, to define thought and to bring realization into being. The truth is often painful because it limits our possibilities, we have to make decisions and so we move forward giving birth to our mental reality, and we no longer wander undefined in innocence, or awash with anguish.
I feel that I am done with these women now, and I turn away from their pain, acknowledging their part, knowing that I have borne witness to and have validated their grief. I see the grey and indigo swathes of the curtain emerge from the trees, and I head away, feeling exhausted by the experience, but cleaner and lighter, as if I had laid down a burden that I had been carrying for far too long.
The 3 of Swords
Saturn in Libra
October 3rd to 12th
The Lord of Sorrow
My name is Joanna Grant, I am an Astrologer, Tarot Reader and Writer, who lives on the beautiful Beara Peninsula in the South West of Ireland. My long knowledge of Astrology leads and informs my practice in offering guidance and empowerment, helping others to lead a more authentic and magical life. You can read more about me here.
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