This striking image from a modern tarot deck is the Strength Card. A vulnerable woman grips the handle of a powerful scythe. Delicate flowering branches quietly shelter her as she ponders her next step. She seems to bow to the challenges she faces, channeling deep reserves, much as we are doing now. The pandemic is shifting all we knew, all we know, and in the fifth week the depth and breadth of change seems limitless.
The other night I surprised myself when, without warning, I started to cry. The loss of so much, for so many, and the absence of a clear way forward surged straight through me. Crying, alone in the dark, was comforting. Fitting. Of course there is grief.
After my cry I felt relieved, the tears rinsed away a pretension: I am not totally fine.
The woman in the garden, holding the scythe, is me. Is you. Is us. There was a time in my younger life when strength meant wielding power, clearing obstruction, pushing forward. All these action words imply that strength is gathered and wielded short term. But the global changes we face are not short term.
Must we hold on to what was? We did that. We had that. I look again at the card. The scythe looks weighty, like the future. The flowers float like memories, thoughts of not so long ago. We are in the transitional period, between past and future. Grief feels honest. Bare. It just is. I sit with it, with the woman in the image, and forgive myself for pretending to be fine.
Tarot artwork by
Immortal Veil 2019
There is grace in vulnerability. How else can we face this liminal moment? Even now I want to race forward with healing words, with guidance, anything rather than sit still and wonder. But for today, let us bow to the unknowable. Let us forgive, you, me–anything and everything– and give thanks for the strength to do so.
I love this.❤️
How do you manage to so beautifully distill the very essence of our human experience right now? The image is so fitting – so perfect for what we are going through. Thank you Elisa for your insight and wise words. They are helpful. I will think of them as I teeter on my own personal wire of vulnerability and strength and will feel you holding my hand.
And I may even, eventually, beside never again to pick up that heavy sythe. But for now, feel the silence, is all I need. Thank you for your writings and your thoughts shared with all of us, Eliza. Even so, it is enough