A majors-only deck seems to lend itself to smaller questions and bigger answers than a regular 78-card deck to me. And the Wild Green Chagallian Tarot in particular makes me wonder about small plants and big healing effects. So this is my first question to this deck.
What’s the “medicine” I need to give myself most today?
A blue-skinned, black-haired woman kneels in the half-shade betweentwo young trees, one of them an apple tree, the other a birch. She is surrounded by violets whose leaves and flowers have melted into the fabric of her white dress. She is reaching up to the one red apple hanging from a branch. In the background, there’s a yellow unicorn galloping along cheerfully, with a black-and-white bird on its back (that bird is a magpie to me, although it’s too small to really see any characteristics).
To me, this is a very peaceful and happy image. Despite the red apple, it’s late spring or early summer to me, as indicated by the flowering violets and the bright green light. This is at the edge of a forest (or a clearing in the forest), and there aren’t any other people around. I’ve been to places that felt like that, like the edge between the everyday world and another, more mysterious/fantastic one where there may indeed be unicorns (or fairies).
Those are places where something happens to your mood and mind, where everyday burdens fall aside and curiosity, wonder and delight sneak in and then tackle you until you find yourself lying on the back in the moss, grinning a little stupidly and sighing contentedly. It smells warm and a little damp and the perfume of forest decay tickles your synapses, the sun makes tiny bubbles of intense red swim around behind your eyelids, and you feel yourself sink into the ground a centimeter or two.
Your fingertips magnify the flat, spined coolness of a blade of grass, the rolling crunch of a pinch of sand, the layers of temperature as you stroke little burrows into the earth. Through the quivering shadows of your lashes you see gigantic moss trees rising up next to you and shiny ants climbing around between the grasslands of gently swaying hair on the mountains of your flesh.
Eventually, something starts buzzing around you and you open a third of an eye, trying to lift a hand to wave it away but all that really happens is a bit of finger twitching because your arm is still melted into the ground. Or maybe it grew a bunch of thin, white, fuzzy rootlets already? In any case, the line of separation between you and the ground isn’t that clear anymore.
Your mind has started swaying gently, too, and sometimes, just sometimes, in the middle of the bliss of being right where you are with nothing to do but be right there, right now, an insight ripens and waits for you to pluck it from its branch, to dig your teeth into and get sticky with its juices, later. Later. For now, there is nothing else to do but slowly blow a tickling hair from your nose and wish you could become small enough to make your home in a cave below the roots of a nearby tree. And then you close your eyes again and your mind goes back into its woven hammock of neurons to once again start swaying gently.
Indeed. A mix of sunshine and shade. Rolling around words in my mind until they are not only functional but also interesting to look at in that combination. Taking time to be and not rush anywhere else. I think I shall take a small walk and sit somewhere nice now.