In my last post, I alluded to the past year having been terrible for me. The truth is, it was the culmination of a difficult period which had been going on longer than that. My decision to move to the US from Scotland in 2008 had always felt like a mistake. (And no, I don't believe that everything happens for a reason, or that any higher power has a master plan for each of us!) I tried my best, I think, to love the land - but I hated the climate, and often felt like the feeling was mutual. I never found a way to fit into the local community, and only managed to find a job after eight years. I met and fell in love with my partner, Mark, but while he was a wonderful person in many ways, our relationship was incredibly challenging for both of us, and by the beginning of 2017, I wondered whether I could continue, but at the same time didn't have the stomach for ending it, either. I often found myself wishing for something to change, even though I couldn't see what or how anything could.

In January I got a temporary job doing community work locally with a charitable trust. I found it interesting and meaningful, but at the same time, it highlighted the degree to which I wasn't accepted locally. Then, in March, all hell seemed to break loose. (Be careful what you wish for!) I was out feeding the horses one morning and something spooked them. My gelding, Bruce, crashed into me and knocked me over. I landed badly and did some kind of horrendous damage to my ankle. I ended up being on crutches for three months. This episode confirmed what I already knew in my heart about my relationship with Mark. He wasn't going to keep me safe. He didn't really have what it took to responsibly do all the things that I suddenly needed, as well as pick up the slack on the farm by doing all the chores that I normally did with the horses and land. And, almost worse for me, he just couldn't show any empathy, sympathy or affection for me in my plight.

Since I was doing most of my work from home, I was able to keep up with my job, but at the same time, I was being asked to re-interview for it, if I wanted to keep it - which I did, even though my heart wasn't fully in it. I wonder, looking back, whether I actually had some kind of breakdown during the next couple of months. I certainly know that I became more distressed than depressed, and was hysterical on a number of occasions with the stress of it all.

Then, in May, just as I was beginning to be able to walk without the crutches, Mark went off on a weekend road trip with a friend. I asked him to stay home, as I was still a bit unsteady outdoors on the uneven or muddy ground, but he elected to go anyway. On the second day of their trip, he dropped dead from a heart attack. To be honest, I'm not sure what I felt. Grief at losing my daily companion, shock from the suddenness of it all, terror as to what would now happen to me - as Mark had been mostly supporting us, financially ... relief, too ... and then guilt over the relief.

In June, I lost the job. Mark had left me nothing, and, it turned out, was in debt. I could see no option other than to sell the house and land, which meant letting go of most of my animal friends, including my beloved ponies. Without the land, I couldn't keep them, and I had no way to live, and be sure of caring for them, if I didn't sell. To my surprise the farm sold within just a few days of going on the market. I hadn't expected that, and in a way it was just another terrible shock, as now I needed to pack up and search for a new home of some kind when I barely had the energy to get out of bed in the morning.

During those months after Mark died, I would occasionally go to the cards. Feeling lost I would hope to find something which might tell me how to put one foot in front of the other. Where to put that foot, to find some solid ground. I remember getting the Cattle card."Wealth in store. Stewardship of conspicuous assets. Practicality." That made sense. Yes. Take care of things as best I could. Show off what I had to sell to its best advantage. Be practical. I could do that!

Another time it was Rooks. "Intelligence, communication and problem solving come naturally. The society of the tribe is important, and the individual flourishes within it. Loss of these qualities brings ill. Change and death may be frightening, but can also be foreseen, and guidance found to pass through."  I had known for a long time that I was not among my tribe. Both the loss of my job, and the lack of community support when Mark died really brought that home to me, and reminded me that the situation was becoming untenable. To try to hang on longer in that community was not safe or healthy for me. It was time to make changes, even though it felt like jumping off a cliff or crawling into a dark tunnel.

I remember getting the River card, too. "Birth, motherhood and nurturing. Letting go. Cleansing." Again confirming that it was time to let go, to go with the flow, to take care of myself."

These occasional one card readings were a kind of lifeline. They were enough, and in fact they were more powerful for me than a spread of three or more cards would have been.  I wasn't in a place, mentally, to deal with too much information at once. I was already being forced to do more than enough of that in my mundane life, and I wasn't coping all that well with it.

It was so much easier to have one simple concept to hang onto for awhile, and it served me well. First, "Steward you assets and be practical." Later, "Accept the need for change and that your tribe is not here." And finally, "Move on and take care of yourself."

The lovely couple who bought my place were flexible about the hand-over date, so in the end I looked at the calendar and decided that I wanted to be on the land for the autumn equinox. I needed that liminal hinge-time to honour the land, to let go, to prepare.  

In the next post, I'll talk about how I used that time.

I'll give a brief nod to the fact that it's been more than a year since I have posted here, on a blog that has been not so much neglected as abandoned. But today I want to talk about cards, their meanings, their uses in my world, and how I would love to share that world with you, dear reader, once again. To that end, I asked for a little help to find a card that would help us begin together. Me, begin to write -- you, begin to understand. Of course, it turned out that it was more a case of me beginning to understand... yet again.

The card that presented itself today was The Curlew. I define the meaning of this card as: Something is difficult to find or penetrate. Endless searching. One song is a warning, the other a lullaby. I have little faith in predictive card readings. However, I am grateful for insight, for confirmation of what I think I know, of a fresh angle or an "ah ha!" moment.

I have been going through a terrible time this year. One in which disasters have been layered on top of frustrations, in which old wounds have been ripped open by new assaults, and in which every avenue of escape or salvation seemed to end in a sheer drop, a mighty wall, or impenetrable darkness. Hopeful chinks of light turned out to be pipe dreams. Helping hands teased and were then withdrawn. I wouldn't wish a year like this on anyone.

In July a dear friend came to stay with me for a few days. She arrived at a time when the phrase "What fresh hell is this?" was apt, but not particularly funny. A time when I was voluntarily adding a new grief to those recently accumulated, in the hope of fending off future troubles. My friend is an activist. A doer. She said to me, not long after she arrived, that she thought there was going to be a lesson for her in that visit, and the lesson was: "There are some things that can't be fixed." I can't say that this cheered me up, but I was also relieved that we were operating from a place of mutual truth.

If you watch the little video of the curlew, above, you will see this endless searching, as it probes the sand with its long bill over and over. Of course, it will find food, but it will work hard for every morsel, with only a tiny percentage of searches bearing fruit. In the past year I have been searching, often frantically. I've looked for insight in books, blog entries, myths and meditation, from supposedly wise counsellors -- and of course, from the cards. I've sought help and friendship, answers about what to do, about what I even want to do.

Often, the things I'm looking for remain hidden, or they slither away before I can grab them. I find a lot that can't be fixed, and so I feel my way, working only with what's possible each moment, like someone crawling through a narrow passage without a light. I have my hopes, but they are not in sight, and I am reduced to feeling around in a dank, dark place. Is it possible to go to the left? ... to the right?... forward? ... or will I suddenly find the way completely blocked?

So have the cards failed me? No - they simply haven't rescued me. One confirms what I already knew was wrong - and reminds me of the seriousness of the situation. Another suggests some possible handholds in the perilous dark, while yet another lets me know that it's okay to just allow myself to float for awhile - to go into a realm of mist while waiting to become myself again. Another suggests the process of birth and nurturing, but reminds me that this is also a state of letting go. And finally the Curlew comes to remind me that I am simply searching. Following the instinct to go forward, and keep probing. Sifting the possible from the impossible and hoping that it will be enough to keep me going. Drawing a card now and again is probably all the insight I can cope with at the moment. I couldn't digest more because I'm finding that the lesson of each card is enormous.

And for awhile I've been thinking of how much I want to share the cards again. That, as always, I see how well they speak, and it's a shame not to offer them out to others. So let's do it! And I'm going to suggest that we keep it simple, so I am going to offer one card readings. More and more I come to appreciate their clarity, their lack of clutter. And I'm flexible. If the first card raises a question, or needs some kind of balance, then we'll simply draw a second card, or a third. No big deal.

Continue to part 2 - When the Centre Cannot Hold, Keep it Simple.