Rainbow Serpent Woman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
perzephone) wrote2010-09-17 05:21 pm
perzephone) wrote2010-09-17 05:21 pm
Entry tags:
New Project - Pathworking with the Tarot
I'm casually approaching some serious pathworking via the Tarot again. Starting from the beginning, of course.
I've had The Fool propped up by my bed for the past few days, seeing if it would influence my dreams any, which is hasn't, or if it has I don't remember the dreams. Maybe it's working at some deep, hidden, long-buried portion of my subconscious... (yeah, right).
It dawned on me today that most of the time, when I work with The Fool, all my focus is usually on the Fool himself. Not the environment, not his or her belongings, not the dog at his or her feet. Not all versions of Tarot include a dog with the Fool. In the New Orleans Voodoo deck, it's Damballah and Ayida Wedo's egg, the World Egg. In the Thoth deck, a tiger is gnawing on the Fool's leg. The dog is just an every-day agent of fate. The Fool is going to fall off the cliff one way or the other. He or she may realize at the last minute that their dance is perilously close to a precipice, but the dog will insure that the fall takes place.
Chelsie & her clowning fits right in with the Fool's dog. No matter what you're doing, at some point Chelsie is going to reach out her paw, snag your ankle and trip you. You might be playing with her (apparently, you don't play with a Catahoula, a Catahoula plays with you... as in, you're the toy), or you might be carrying scalding hot coffee into the living room. That paw is going to get you. You can move obstacles (like the unused Gazelle that she's used to pin me into precarious positions) out of the way, to clear your line of sight and make the inevitable fall less painful, but you're still going to fall. Rob says that, on the occasions that the dog has tripped me and I've fallen over, I roll like some kind of big beetle on its back. I try to position myself to land on the most padded areas of my body - my ass & hips. I try not to put my hands out to brace myself, because that only leads to broken wrists and sprained hands. I don't try to fight the fall, either. Gravity is going to do its work. Fighting it only leads to injury, beyond just a bruised pride. I just fucking fall down and try to roll with it.
In many Tarot guides I've read, the symbolism of the Fool is tied to the Biblical Fall from Eden. The Fool is the naive state of grace that Adam and Eve were in before the Serpent and the Tree came into the picture. The dog, of course, is the material world, the Serpent in woolier guise. Instead of being openly tempting though, leading the Fool to his or her demise with bright shiny fruit, the dog is trotting behind, waiting to take the Fool unawares. In Gnostic practices, we had to fall. It was Sophia's mistake in instigating the Fall, but we had to do it. We need the experiences that the material world gives us in order to evolve and progress. In Gnosticism, though, there is a rejection of the material world. It is base, the dross that comes of the alchemical processes. To the Gnostics, it's the struggle to be 'in the World, but not of it' that leads to salvation.
When I look at Chelsie, that dog is in the world and of it. There is nothing wrong with a little dirt, and in fact, it's quite tasty. Her own butt is tasty. We're tasty (just not right after she's been licking her own butt). The dog experiences life by living and licking and sniffing it. She explores everything with wide-eyed curiosity. She looks at things like it's the first time she's ever seen anything like it. Wow! A book! Wow! A pigeon! (Woof! Woofwoofwoof!) Wow! A pair of shoes! Wow! A roach (om nom nom)! Wow! A weed (om nom nom hork hork hork)! The dog trips the Fool to bring the Fool down to the dog's own level; not standing 5 1/2 feet or so above the ground, disconnected from experiences and emotions, but down to about 2 1/2 feet, at nose level with smelly things like crotches and t.v. trays loaded with dinner. If Chelsie falls down (which she does), she doesn't have far to go. It doesn't hurt as much. She knows the earth is her friend and companion, and gravity isn't quite as much of a harsh mistress at that level. She can rise above it all, to catch a ball or Frisbee, or launch herself at the pigeons and doves winging away overhead.
Another thing I've noticed about the Fool in the Rider-Waite tarot is that ledge he's standing on. From the perspective of the card, there are mountains in the far-off distance. It gives the impression that the Fool is truly flirting with disaster. He seems to be quite high up, and if he falls it will be forever. For all we know, though, that ledge could be a step or two. He might be falling two feet down. Maybe that ledge is the undercut bank of some wide river - the river of time, ready to wash him downstream and into the future.
I've had The Fool propped up by my bed for the past few days, seeing if it would influence my dreams any, which is hasn't, or if it has I don't remember the dreams. Maybe it's working at some deep, hidden, long-buried portion of my subconscious... (yeah, right).
It dawned on me today that most of the time, when I work with The Fool, all my focus is usually on the Fool himself. Not the environment, not his or her belongings, not the dog at his or her feet. Not all versions of Tarot include a dog with the Fool. In the New Orleans Voodoo deck, it's Damballah and Ayida Wedo's egg, the World Egg. In the Thoth deck, a tiger is gnawing on the Fool's leg. The dog is just an every-day agent of fate. The Fool is going to fall off the cliff one way or the other. He or she may realize at the last minute that their dance is perilously close to a precipice, but the dog will insure that the fall takes place.
Chelsie & her clowning fits right in with the Fool's dog. No matter what you're doing, at some point Chelsie is going to reach out her paw, snag your ankle and trip you. You might be playing with her (apparently, you don't play with a Catahoula, a Catahoula plays with you... as in, you're the toy), or you might be carrying scalding hot coffee into the living room. That paw is going to get you. You can move obstacles (like the unused Gazelle that she's used to pin me into precarious positions) out of the way, to clear your line of sight and make the inevitable fall less painful, but you're still going to fall. Rob says that, on the occasions that the dog has tripped me and I've fallen over, I roll like some kind of big beetle on its back. I try to position myself to land on the most padded areas of my body - my ass & hips. I try not to put my hands out to brace myself, because that only leads to broken wrists and sprained hands. I don't try to fight the fall, either. Gravity is going to do its work. Fighting it only leads to injury, beyond just a bruised pride. I just fucking fall down and try to roll with it.
In many Tarot guides I've read, the symbolism of the Fool is tied to the Biblical Fall from Eden. The Fool is the naive state of grace that Adam and Eve were in before the Serpent and the Tree came into the picture. The dog, of course, is the material world, the Serpent in woolier guise. Instead of being openly tempting though, leading the Fool to his or her demise with bright shiny fruit, the dog is trotting behind, waiting to take the Fool unawares. In Gnostic practices, we had to fall. It was Sophia's mistake in instigating the Fall, but we had to do it. We need the experiences that the material world gives us in order to evolve and progress. In Gnosticism, though, there is a rejection of the material world. It is base, the dross that comes of the alchemical processes. To the Gnostics, it's the struggle to be 'in the World, but not of it' that leads to salvation.
When I look at Chelsie, that dog is in the world and of it. There is nothing wrong with a little dirt, and in fact, it's quite tasty. Her own butt is tasty. We're tasty (just not right after she's been licking her own butt). The dog experiences life by living and licking and sniffing it. She explores everything with wide-eyed curiosity. She looks at things like it's the first time she's ever seen anything like it. Wow! A book! Wow! A pigeon! (Woof! Woofwoofwoof!) Wow! A pair of shoes! Wow! A roach (om nom nom)! Wow! A weed (om nom nom hork hork hork)! The dog trips the Fool to bring the Fool down to the dog's own level; not standing 5 1/2 feet or so above the ground, disconnected from experiences and emotions, but down to about 2 1/2 feet, at nose level with smelly things like crotches and t.v. trays loaded with dinner. If Chelsie falls down (which she does), she doesn't have far to go. It doesn't hurt as much. She knows the earth is her friend and companion, and gravity isn't quite as much of a harsh mistress at that level. She can rise above it all, to catch a ball or Frisbee, or launch herself at the pigeons and doves winging away overhead.
Another thing I've noticed about the Fool in the Rider-Waite tarot is that ledge he's standing on. From the perspective of the card, there are mountains in the far-off distance. It gives the impression that the Fool is truly flirting with disaster. He seems to be quite high up, and if he falls it will be forever. For all we know, though, that ledge could be a step or two. He might be falling two feet down. Maybe that ledge is the undercut bank of some wide river - the river of time, ready to wash him downstream and into the future.