#LiverpoolFC, Dreams, Prophecy, Soccer, Writing

February 2019- The Chariot

img_1437I did a tarot drawing for 2019 on New Year’s Eve in 2018 as a way to concentrate on the upcoming year. In review, January we saw the Magician – a sign of new beginnings.

In January, I restructured my WIP – taking it from 34 longish chapters into 60 short chapters and I felt this was great forward movement. I also joined a gym of sorts, OrangeTheory, and my body is changing and getting stronger. Other things, closer and personal, are also moving forward.

LFCTattooLiverpool is hanging onto their lead in the Premier League. That matters to me. Watching Liverpool play brings me a joy like nothing else. I will be getting a Liverpool tattoo on my left arm if they win the league in May.  They have 4 points on Tottenham and 5 points on Man City as of this writing. May is a long way off.

In February, The Chariot will fuel the momentum of the new year. This card represents a journey toward a long-awaited destination.  For me, that means getting book into the query trenches or developing all the tools to get the book ready for representation and sale.  It also means getting my health back in gear with my diet and exercise plan.

Two close co-workers fell critically ill in January – one cancer and one a stroke that left him paralyzed on his right side. Both gentlemen are my age and lead healthy lives. We never know when our mortal time will be done so I am reminded to thank the Lord above for the grace of a new day, a new week, a new month, or a new year. This is such a temporary state of existence. We should not squander it.

Pack up for your journey and put that first step out. That is the hardest bit of getting started, that very first step. Try and keep warm. Yes, winter is here but spring is coming. The journey is only beginning and the possibilities around the bend are endless.

 

life, Prophecy

January 2019- The Magician

img_1436So on New Year’s Eve, I did a tarot card reading for the year, one card per month. For January, I drew the Magician. It fits for the first month of a new year. It is a card for new beginnings. It signals that conditions are right for pursuing one’s dreams. That is a lovely way to proceed into the year.

I do not go in for divination or fortune telling. It’s like trying to predict the weather. There are too many factors, too many decisions that can change conditions slightly in one way or another.

Now, that does not mean I discount some greater power (God, however you conceive the concept) sending prophets from time to time. But it is not the future such beings predict. They are giving a promise from God. This is nothing like that. There are no promises here. The cards help spark potential, something we all have, or warn against foolish decisions or actions.

January is a good time for the Magician, a time for a little spark of creativity, a push forward, a new beginning. So off we go.

 

 

Dreams, Prophecy, Writing

Mind the Gap

London 057Last night I dreamed I returned to the United Kingdom. I always meant to go back there, to live there for a time once more as I did when I was at University.

The last time I visited, I took my then fourteen year old daughter. We enjoyed such an adventure. There was no plan. We traipsed around England, mostly staying in London, exploring freely.

London had changed a bit since my school days, but not so much as to lose that ambience of long endurance and that incredible air of fable. Time still seemed in long supply, and I believed I would return again. I did not factor in the world going quite so utterly mad.

london night lights bridge

My dream revealed a withered and dying United Kingdom, a divided and broken land, its culture and people utterly vanquished.  South Kensington, the place I had lived as a student, was lined with crucified bodies, heads on spikes. Masked men wearing  black robes patrolled the streets, heavily armed. In my dream, they turned to carrion birds to feed on the ashes of the land they conquered. It was horrifying. Perhaps, a symptom of watching entirely too much Game of Thrones.

I woke up weeping for its demise more than I think I would for my own country. I rolled out of bed in the night’s darkest hours before dawn and immediately took to my computer to seek plane reservations that I might return there before my visions could come to fruition.

I believed I was awake in a bright morning to find my reservations well in place. I packed and gathered my passport and arrived in London. No, I had not awaken from my nightmare. The UK was still there, but it felt dead, like a movie set more than the real place.  I told myself it was the hour of the day, and entered the tube station at Piccadilly Circus.

People packed into the platform and that gave me comfort. Here they all were, citizens of London, waiting for their train. The train came and true to nature, the people queued up to enter as a mechanized and polite voice reminded them.

“Mind the gap.”

No one did. By the time I boarded the train, all of those people disappeared into the gap which for me was a simple step and for them, an unscalable chasm. Then I awoke to my life once more, and I wrote this blog post. Let this only be a nightmare. Please, world, mind the gap.

Dreams, Prophecy, Writing

Mind the Gap

London 057Last night I dreamed I returned to the United Kingdom. I always meant to go back there, to live there for a time once more as I did when I was at University.  The last time I visited, I took my then fourteen year old daughter. We enjoyed such an adventure. There was no plan. We traipsed around England, mostly staying in London, exploring freely. London had changed a bit since my school days, but not so much as to lose that ambience of long endurance and that incredible air of fable. Time still seemed in long supply, and I believed I would return again. I did not factor in the world going quite so utterly mad.

I dreamed of a withered and dying United Kingdom, a divided and broken land, its culture and people utterly vanquished.  South Kensington, the place I had lived as a student, was lined with crucified bodies, heads on spikes. Masked men wearing  black robes patrolled the streets, heavily armed. In my dream, they turned to carrion birds to feed on the ashes of the land they conquered. It was horrifying. Perhaps, a symptom of watching entirely too much Game of Thrones.

I woke up weeping for its demise more than I think I would for my own country. I rolled out of bed in the night’s darkest hours before dawn and immediately took to my computer to seek plane reservations that I might return there before my visions could come to fruition.  All of this, thinking I was awake as I woke to a bright morning to find my reservations well in place. I packed and gathered my passport and arrived in London. No, I had not awaken from my nightmare. The UK was still there, but it felt dead, like a movie set more than the real place.  I told myself it was the hour of the day, and entered the tube station at Piccadilly Circus.

People packed into the platform and that gave me comfort. Here they all were, citizens of London, waiting for their train. The train came and true to nature, the people queued up to enter as a mechanized and polite voice reminded them.

“Mind the gap.”

No one did. BY the time I boarded the train, all of those people disappeared into the gap which for me was a simple step and for them, an unscalable chasm. Then I awoke to my life once more, and I wrote this blog post. Let this only be a nightmare. Please, world, mind the gap.