Weekly Cycle with the Tarot -Medellaina

Medellaina searches her heart - Am I a Fool or a Magician? Creating Thursday's dream I shall take a leap of faith and manifest the day. Am I a Priestess or an Empress? I shall follow my intuition and listen to my emotions.

On Thursday, three horses, a larger older roan, a young skittish bay and a piebald, cropped the grassy tussocks in a field near the rock-strewn edge of the bay. As they moved through the grass the piebald realised his hooves were sinking into the muddy peat where a stream welled up through a boggy area. With effort he lifted his legs, the water sucking around his hooves, pulling them into the mire. He squelched them free and carefully crossed to the other side of the unsafe ground. The young skittish bay had noticed his plight and became nervous. He would need to cross the soggy, sucking area as well. The older roan watched, let the young one choose his route. Slowly and with great care, the young one reached the fresh grass. Now it was the experienced one’s turn. Sure-footed and safe, his hooves throwing peat into the air, in two jumps he was across.

Medellaina wonders about the requirements of creation – Am I an Emperor or a Hierophant? Creating Friday’s dream I have the authority to construct the day and I must look in my own heart for the answers. Am I a Lover and do I have a Chariot? There must be a reconciling of duality today and I shall shape destiny to the consent of all.

On Friday, in the late afternoon, the sound of swan’s wings echoed across the bay as two flew over the sandy beach to the freshwater lake beyond. They rested through the night, heads tucked under white wings. The next day, on the high tide, one floated down the bay to the headland, dozing in the warm spring air. At the lighthouse it turned, took off with six long strides, flew just high enough to cross the beach again and return to the lake for the night. The next morning it again went for a leisurely float to the headland, returning to the lake for a fish lunch. In the afternoon the two swans took to the air, necks outstretched, wings rising and falling in unison, and were gone.

Medellaina considers her own life – Am I Just to all or a Hermit? Creating Saturday’s dream I shall aim for an inner peace that will benefit these hours then I shall share them with others.

On Saturday, one of the lambs said to her mother:

‘The white horse is so fine, look at his coat, its so smooth it shines in the morning sun. The horse must be the most perfect being in our pasture.’

‘Maybe so,’ replied the old ewe. ‘The horse is truly a very wonderful smart animal but, there are others here as beautiful.’

‘Where mother? You can surely see none as handsome as the horse.’

‘Listen – what do you hear?’

‘A pretty piping song.’

‘Yes,’ encouraged the kindly mother, ‘where is it coming from?’

‘The hedge.’

‘Yes, that small plain brown bird, hidden by the branches of the hawthorn, does not have the grand beauty of the horse, but it has the most beautiful song. And look at the hedge again…’

‘That is the terrible sharp spiky hawthorn and barbed gorse that no one can go near for fear of cuts and prickles’, said the lamb.

‘Can you see the bees buzzing amongst the white and yellow flowers. They are one of the first to give their nectar to the bees to make honey.’

Medellaina is concerned about the pivotal day of the week –Am I turning the Wheel of Fortune in a good way? Creating Sunday’s dream I shall remember that both beginnings and endings, in all of life’s events, carry promise.

On Sunday, baby fish were playing by the bridge. An old grey stone bridge that crosses the peaty brown waters as they flow from the moors to the sea. It was wonderful in the warmth of the shallow pool. The fish darted to and fro, explored where the grassy bank dipped into the stream, bumped into the small stones and sand, and wiggled amongst the eddies. Their life in the stream was just beginning. Medellaina enjoyed their antics. After one boisterous pursuit they rested a little and then the stream spoke and shared its thoughts with her. It remembered how it once fell from heavy grey clouds. After the surprise of landing on the earth it played games, up on the moorland, as a bouncing, high-spirited brook. But that was long ago, now it was slower and older. Yet, it could sense exciting changes. An unexpected visitor had arrived. The salty waters from the bay had come to make its acquaintance. Medellaina gazed at the scene. Exactly right. There was an exciting future for the stream. The visiting sea was merging and entwining with the fresh stream water until you could not tell the difference. The moorland stream and the vast ocean had become one.

Medellaina welcomes the new day with more insights – Have I the Strength or am I a Hanged Man? Creating Monday’s dream I remember who I am and know I am well supported by my Mother. Have patience everything will happen in its own time. Does Death and Temperance walk with me? I must let go of the past, and as the changes unfold I will be moderate in my conception, as I do not need to tell everyone how wonderful I am, inner beauty always shines through.

On Monday Medellaina walked amongst the twigs and branches of a little wood. The tree complained that the grove had felt winter’s cold too long. They wondered if they would ever be free of the frost that clung to them. The bluebell leaves were appearing above the leaf litter but it seemed forever that they were waiting; the spring was slow tot come. A heron was standing, watching the side of the stream where it joined the fresh water lake. She listened to their complaints and she explained to Medellaina her approach to what lies ahead of you. She stood perfectly still. She watched fish for many hours, becoming aware of the pattern of their movements through the water, observing their favourite places, where the flies were fat and juiciest. Perhaps tomorrow she would ask one if it would be her supper.

Medellaina reviews her attitudes to her undertaking – Am I a Devil in a Tower? Creating Tuesday’s dream I shall conquer my fears and laugh, my tower shall not crumble, as I have no illusion of who I am.

On Tuesday, a light breeze rippled the water and the gleaming ferry gently rocked at its moorings. While a red and white lobster boat unloaded its catch the young gulls screeched overhead, fighting as usual, as to who was strongest, bravest, loudest, and most handsome and most deserved the pick of the feed. A butterfly skimmed over the water, landing on a twiggy fuchsia bush. The pattern of its wings shone like jewels in the sun. One of the wiser gulls led her brown-feathered youngster into a rising thermal, a little away from its cousins. Looking down she dipped her wing and pointed out the butterfly. It didn’t boast about how beautiful it was, it just was. The butterfly looked up, and together with the gulls listened to the skylark, its song travelling across the gorse and white sandy strand by the harbour. Its trills and calls were the most musical of all the birds, but it did not boast about its voice, it just was. From its great height in the clear blue sky, the songster looked across the vastness of the hill. The sheep and horses feeding were as dapples of white dots on its sides, white splashes broke as the sea washed against its rocks. The skylark admired its huge body, nurturing and sustaining so many. It didn’t boast of its strength. It just was.

Medellaina pauses before forming the last day of the weekly cycle – Am I as a Star or as the Moon or the Sun? Creating Wednesday’s dream I shall remember that I am connected to the world, connected to all things, there is beauty around me. All the wishes and dreams will come true in an absolute unity.

On Wednesday, the early sun came up behind the mountains and glowed brightly down on the calm waters of the bay. It was a peaceful morning, the tide rising with a lethargic current of cool water. The gulls drifted overhead, the youngsters copying the elders. How long could they glide without a wing flap? Suddenly, the tranquillity was scattered. Everything changed. A great splash of white foam smashed the air and a triangular fin rose to the skies. All in the bay became excited. The air buzzed with the news, dolphins had arrived. Skylarks flew higher to get a better view, the white horses galloped to the walls by the cliff edge, and the sheep stopped cropping the grass and ran to the headland.

Medeillaina reflected on her week of creative dreams. Am I honest in my Judgement of the World? I am the instigator of changes within and without, changes that can be sudden and may come from an unexpected direction, but transformation is always welcome. Each dream has led me to this and now I shall continue the dance into the possibilities of tomorrow.

Page last updated: 12th Jan 2011