Monday is Tarot Day! The card: The Tower

I blush to see that my last blog post was on May 1, but I'm not surprised, nor will I apologize.  Anyone who's a student of the tarot will understand when I say that the month of May was one harrowing fall from the Tower after another.

I remember the first time I ever saw the Tower card.  My friend Dara introduced me to it via her Aquarian deck (first published by Morgan Press in 1970, which makes it kinda groovy, even though its artwork is more Art Deco-inspired).  I pulled it as an outcome card in a reading I requested for the future of a relationship I was in.  Out popped the Tower and Dara saying, "Uh oh - doesn't look good, lady.  I mean, look at the imagery.  It's like Waco".  She referred, of course, to the tragic events of The Branch Davidians, David Koresh, and the siege on Waco, ending in a fiery battle between the cult member and the police.

Not good, no sir.

When I read the tarot, I normally focus on the good, I really do.  I tell my querrants that so much depends not only upon the card itself, but its position in the spread and its proximity to other less-than-favorable cards.  However, the Tower rarely portends anything truly positive - or, I should say, there may be a positive outcome, but the road there will be rocky, with unwelcome surprises and blindsides along the way.

So let me sum up my month of May, filling you in on why I haven't blogged consistently:  a sudden rush of activity regarding my book (good Tower), Dad went into the hospital and his breathing stopped (horrible Tower), Dad had a pacemaker inserted and is doing much better (surprising Tower), during production week of a show I'm in, a cast member had to totally drop out of the show due to a serious health concern (very bad Tower), and another cast member (my leading man, actually) almost had to be replaced because of laryngitis (nasty, upsetting Tower) and I acquired a cold - something any singer doesn't relish (Tower, may I slap you in the face already, please?).

My antidote to it all: attempt to remain an observer of the tumult, to watch the swirling morass of drama and heartache, to not get caught up in it to the point that it rattles my soul.  I did fairly well at this, but not always.  Probably why the cold eventually grabbed me by the collar.

So, right now, I'm hoping for no more Tower energy.  My dad is alive and kicking (and flirting with the women at his retirement community), I'm getting my book out there to the public, the show has completed its first weekend (with some blips and frustrations along the way, but certainly nothing Toweriffic) and my cold is settling down. 

If there are more spills out of the Tower, I'm feeling I'll have a parachute for a gentle landing from this point on.