This Arthur Rackham illustration from the Greek myth of the Golden Apples of the Hesperides makes me think of the Three of Cups. The nymphs are united by a common bond, and work harmoniously to protect the sacred tree. The idea of teamwork present in the Three of Pentacles also came to mind, but given the natural setting and the very feminine energy of this image, as well as the fact that the golden-apple bearing tree was a wedding gift to Zeus and Hera, the Cups seems a better fit.

I also came across an Italian restaurant in New York City called Three of Cups, which derives its name from the three of Cups in a deck of Italian playing cards (which are basically the pips of the Tarot). The proprietors of the establishment chose that name because it represents abundance and "Bacchus energy," a good quality wherever food and drink are served. It's not often one comes across a restaurant inspired by Tarot (even if indirectly), and for that reason alone I'd be inclined to try them the next time I'm in the City.

While reading an article Erik Davis wrote on the topic of biodynamic farming, I came across a quote that perfectly describes Tarot as well:

"This organic world-view is not science, but it is a poem of science, one that resonates with ancient and hidden networks of sympathy that link our ordinary world with cosmic forces. Those links may be fictions, but fictions are alive, and mark the world in a myriad ways, especially when they are as ancient as these. Within this literally esoteric network, meanings proliferate, reflect, and alchemically combine. As above, so below."

I was pleasantly surprised to learn that author Thomas Moore also homeschools. In an excerpt from a recent interview, he discusses his dissatisfaction with the state of education, and his reasons for choosing to homeschool his daughter mirror my own reasons for homeschooling my two sons. He notes that,

"Today we do training, we don’t really educate. So we get nervous when a child can’t use a computer. We’re not so worried whether they can be married or raise children or be a responsible and intelligent participant in society. That was an old Greek idea. The ancient Greeks thought that was the heart of education: was to educate people so that when they got older they could really make a contribution to society."

Moore deplores the emphasis on testing of children, at the expense of properly educating them. The quality of the education in public schools isn't the only issue for me. What I most enjoy about homeschooling is the freedom it affords us to create a curriculum that will best serve my boys' innate talents and interests, and allow them to develop their potential. What I want, more than anything, is for my sons to be able to go through life with the ability to think independently and creatively about situations, and to be able to do the right thing, regardless of what others around them are doing. Homeschooling allows my husband and I to encourage our boys to cultivate these qualities.

The lovely image on the right, from Yoshitoshi's 100 Aspects of the Moon, makes me think of the High Priestess card. The ocean represents the subconscious, upon which she sits serenely, a rock replacing the throne one typically sees in this card. The overall scene suggests mystery, the unknown. I think it would also make a good Moon card.

Yoshitoshi chose not provide any information concerning these moon themed images. People living in Meiji-era Japan would have immediately understood the religious and cultural references in his works. Moreover, he preferred that viewers draw their own conclusions about the meaning of any given work.

Pantone Color Institute recently announced its color of the year for 2009, a brilliant shade of yellow called Mimosa.

Yellow was on my mind when I came across this lovely image titled "Princess Golden Flower." I thought it would make an interesting, sort of pre-Raphaelite inspired Sun card.

Spaced Out

I was very gratified to come across a fine essay by Jay Weidner on Stanley Kubrick's masterpiece, 2001: A Space Odyssey. 2001 remains one of my favorite films of all time, and Weidner offers some interesting insights into the meaning of Kubrick's work.

Like all great works of art, 2001 can be appreciated on many levels. On the surface, it's an interesting science fiction tale. Visually, it's a feast, with extraordinary images, meticulously composed scenes, and interesting effects. It has a glorious soundtrack. Delve beneath the surface, and the film becomes an exploration of human history, the effects of technology on society, and most interestingly to me, human evolution and transformation. It is this last aspect of the film, its portrayal of humanity's leap to the next phase in its evolution (as symbolized by the Starchild), that Weidner writes about from an alchemical perspective. One doesn't have to agree with Weidner's conclusions in order to come away from his analysis with a greater appreciation for Kubrick's genius.

Every Wednesday, Unclutterer features a column where they good-naturedly poke fun at unitaskers, or unnecessary items that have only one use. In a recent post, they show a portable wood-fire oven from Williams-Sonoma, for baking pizza. While the $2000 price tag seems a bit hefty for what is basically an inverted terracotta dome on wheels, the Italian in me can't help but appreciate the effort behind it.

An uncle of mine had a wood burning oven made of brick built into his basement kitchen. His wife uses it for baking as well as making bean dishes. I recall once exploring the ruins of Pompeii with my husband, and being stopped dead in my tracks by the remains of a large outdoor brick oven. The mother of another uncle of mine had a virtually identical one built in the courtyard of her villa. It hit me in that moment that Faulkner was right: the past isn't dead, it isn't even past, and it bakes yummy bread and pizza.

I am far too lazy to ever consider something as labor intensive as a wood-fire oven, even one on as modest a scale as the Williams-Sonoma device. Nevertheless, there is wonderful kind of culinary alchemy that takes place when fire is applied to dough. The result is as nourishing to the soul as to the body.

Tarot Cards, Pros and Cons

Mary K. Greer has a good post on the subject of Tarot cards and skeptics' view of them and the people who do readings. What jumped out at me was the following quote from a mentalist who uses Tarot cards purely as theater props: "All YOU the tarot reader have to do is make your readings entertaining and the repeat bookings will flow in. In the end it is YOU not the cards who are doing the reading, never forget that."

I found this observation quite interesting, since it is the polar opposite of my own approach (and I would guess, of most other Tarotists'). During a reading I try to stay out of the way, to become as transparent as I can, in order to allow the cards to speak. My responsibility is to communicate what the cards have to say to the querent as clearly, honestly, and compassionately as I can, with an awareness of my own limitations and shortcomings.

Obviously, intuition plays an important role in any reading, given that the cards have multiple meanings. Depending on a number of factors, such as a card's placement and the other cards surrounding it, the Tarot reader must be able to discern the most relevant and appropriate interpretation. I also pay attention to the ideas or images that pop into my head while I read the cards. Therefore, cultivating one's own particular intuitive or empathic gifts, along with a lifelong study of the Tarot cards' history and symbolism, are required to give useful readings.

I've done readings for family and close friends, where I know a lot about them, as well as for total strangers, and oddly enough I find that it's easier in some ways to do a reading when I don't know anything about the querent and their situation. In the case of someone I've not met before, I don't have to worry about filtering out my biases or presumptions, and can simply focus on what I see before me in the spread. It goes back to the issue of transparency, and being receptive to the Tarot cards rather than imposing my own interpretations onto them. Ideally I am simply a conduit for the information conveyed by the cards. It is truly the cards, and not me, doing the reading.

I am continually awed and humbled by the myriad, rich insights a reading can provide the querent. I won't pretend to understand how the process of shuffling cards and laying them out upon a table can produce a coherent, meaningful reading. I have had numerous experiences during a reading when the cards came together beautifully, each one supporting and elaborating the other. Arthur C. Clarke famously observed that "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." The limits of my own understanding of the principles underlying the universe that is the Tarot only spurs me to continue learning and exploring this remarkable creation.

These are two images from Yoshitoshi's woodblock print series 100 Aspects of the Moon. The image on the right made me think of the Hermit. Here is a solitary figure, wandering along at night, this time with only the light of the moon to guide him instead of the customary lantern.

This image also made me think of the pilgrimage undertaken by the poet Basho, which he chronicled in Narrow Road to the Deep North (though I do hope Basho was in better shape than this poor fellow).

Researchers have discovered a cache of marijuana at a 2,700 year old tomb in a remote area of central China. According to a paper published in the Journal of Experimental Botany, the grave was the burial site of a shaman, who was interred with nearly 800 grams of cannabis probably intended for medicinal or divinatory purposes. It is, according to the researchers, "the oldest documentation of cannabis as a pharmacologically active agent."

This find provides an interesting glimpse into the ancient relationship that exists between the plant and humans.