I am really having some tension with this deck lately. I feel like there are cards and ways of knowing in the deck that really resonate for me, but what I’m being presented with each morning is mundane and frustrating. The guidebook entry for this card references the acquisition of skills as a ‘unique human trait’ and I am instantly defensive of my corvid and other animal kin.
I wonder how to engage with this deck in a more wholehearted way.
I wonder what my visceral rejection of some of these cards can tell me about what I need and what I want and what I’m afraid of or feeling.
Skill, here, feels like both an impossible ask – how can I bring skill to any efforts when I am so tired and so overwhelmed? – and also redundant – of course I bring my skills to my labour, always.
So, what am I missing?
Focus.
Focus is what I am missing and what is evident in this card.
It’s not just having skill that matters, it’s applying skill. And that requires focus. And focus is what I lack lately. I’m moving in too many directions, too quickly.
So maybe, slow down.
Trim the extras.
Focus.
Find the space to apply the skill.
I appreciate that his eight stone carvings are all different – this card is not demanding that I choose one of my many directions. It’s just inviting me to focus on one at a time. I can still do each of them. Just not each at once.
I think I am feeling friction with this deck because I want big answers that solve my big problems. And this deck keeps offering me small answers that take a long time to resolve into solutions. Balance, frustration, instruction, skill. I want the blasted oak and the polestar – upheaval and direction. This slow movement through sticky mud is hard. I am tired. I am just so tired.
But there’s wisdom even if it’s not what I want to see.
Focus. Apply my skills. Do one thing at a time, as well as I can.
I am comforted by the three rush lights – 3s, with their reminder of community and connection. That feels hopeful.
Queen of Cups 