The Delightful Mrs P

Cards of the Day

Daily Card Readings – 3.03.024

Today’s cards are from Tayabbah Lee McQuillar’s The Hoodoo Tarot (Artwork by Katelan V. Foisy).

Our centre card is Aunt Caroline X

It’s all about Fate. So today we are where we are meant to be, it’s no accident. We stand looking face on, direct, no turning away, no looking to the past or the future – no wishful thinking or what if.

No, we stood where we are meant to be, in the Here and Now. There’s no getting away from it. It’s time to consider the Big Picture. While there may be so many other fragments of pictures, and it tempting as it is, to look at all those irrelevant pieces. What Aunt Caroline is asking us to do is to look at it straight on, with no filters. No what if, no if only. Aunt Caroline is asking us to face it straight on, to recognise and acknowledge what has brought us here, to this moment and to understand the consequences of this time, of this moment. Accept it for what it is, embrace it and be in that moment.

To her left is the Son of Baskets. He stands in front of a beautiful waterfall and carries for us a basket of wildflowers. This boy is an idealist, he carries hope and joy. He is full of hope and inquisitive. He can see the Big Picture, which perhaps we couldn’t with Aunt Caroline.

He’s laughing at it, a new beginning, a change is coming after we have faced the reality of things as they are. He’s asking us to look at things with the mind of a child, to see the beauty, and to dream again.

The water of the waterfall and the pools becomes the Great Wave which rises and falls as we see in our next card.

The Two of Coins.

It’s a balancing act there is no doubt. So, while it may seem like there’s chaos in the background, you can draw a protective circle around yourself and know you have the skills to remain upright. The wave has great power, and for a moment we can dream of being the Surfer who has the freedom to ride High, but this is not the time.

Our Juggler reminds us it’s all about Balance. He’s looking straight at us, letting us know it’s possible. Things may go up and down – as does the wave, but we need to find that moment in between, that space between the mundane and the manic, that liminal moment of peace and assurance, once there we can and will succeed.

‘Under the greenwood tree…Come hither, come hither, come hither’

‘

Under the greenwood tree

Who loves to lie with me,

And turn his merry note

Unto the sweet bird’s throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here shall he see

No enemy

‘Under the greenwood tree’, from As You Like It by William Shakespeare *

*Blows the dust off…* Yes I am still here, still around… and I still have a shop, though a little sparse, but we are working on that.

https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/1283927556/green-woman-round-trinket-box-ideal-for?click_key=6b9a93ba4fca60005a8ac38ff659e4193f6184f8%3A1283927556&click_sum=8abc2461&ref=hp_rv-3

As you can see above I have a couple of delightful Trinket boxes decorated with the faces of the Greenman and Green Woman. These have been decorated by myself each piece is handmade. It’s not just one mould, I make each leaf separately before painting and gilding.

ideal as not only boxes for trinkets but also spell boxes.

Why not pop across to the shop and have a look see… go on you know you want to…

There is an old tale that goes that Herne the hunter, sometime a keeper in the Windsor forest, doth all the winter-time, at still midnight, walk about an oak . . . .There is an old tale that goes that Herne the hunter, sometime a keeper in the Windsor forest, doth all the winter-time, at still midnight, walk about an oak . . . ‘

–

Harold

Meet Harold, who was once a young lad who found a ‘deserted’ copper mine.

Legend has it, that the mine he ‘found’ had never really been lost. The miners fled when rumour that anyone who worked it would soon come into contact with the true owners, the Little People or ‘The Knockers’ as some people called them You know the folks who live deep under the Hill.

Harold dreamed of making it rich, so rich so he could bathe in it. Ignoring the warnings of others, Harold began to mine the ore. Day and night he was down there, chipping away, taking what wasn’t his.

Until, one night, when the moon was dark, the earth shuddered, the mine collapsed, and Harold got his wish.

He lay there for years and years, or so it seemed, but that was Fey time, he was gone for only a day or two.

The locals feeling the ground move, shuddered crossed their fingers and closed their doors, making sure they salted the windows sills. The next morning after Church and being good Christain People, well on a Sunday anyway, they sent out a search party.

When they entered the mine, there was nothing much left to find except for the copper-covered Skull with the awkward smile.

So here is poor Harold.

If you’d like to offer Harold a home, why not pop over to my little corner of Etsy and have a good gander at him in all his Cursed Glory.

Be Still My Beating ( and Bloody) Heart

I have a couple of new pieces in my Shop, with I thought you might like…and of course, we have a poem!

NOW SOLD!!!!!!

Be still, my beating heart, be still!
There is no hope for thee to-night.
The fading of the wintry light
Has made a blackness of the hill.

Be still, be still, my beating heart!
For thee to-night there is no fear.
The moon has risen white and clear,
And we shall neither meet nor part.

All One by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

If you’d like to take a closer look at it in more detail you can find it here in my little corner shop

For those who’d like a darker heart...

And men forgot their passions in the dread

Of this their desolation; and all hearts

Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light:

Extract from Darkness by Lord Byron

There is also a brain for sale, and of course Coffins! There are always Coffins my Darlings, ideal for burying those you need to get rid of figuratively of course, or to sit Delightfully on your Altar. Oh and of course, for those of you who like to tie Knots, these delightful little coffins can be used as Ring boxes – won’t that make the Vicar jump!

The Bluebell*

Bluebells & Wild Garlic ©Shullie H Porter, The Delightful Mrs P, 2013-23

A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less of power.

There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell.

Yet I recall not long ago
A bright and sunny day,
‘Twas when I led a toilsome life
So many leagues away;

That day along a sunny road
All carelessly I strayed,
Between two banks where smiling flowers
Their varied hues displayed.

Before me rose a lofty hill,
Behind me lay the sea,
My heart was not so heavy then
As it was wont to be.

Less harassed than at other times
I saw the scene was fair,
And spoke and laughed to those around,
As if I knew no care.

But when I looked upon the bank
My wandering glances fell
Upon a little trembling flower,
A single sweet bluebell.

Whence came that rising in my throat,
That dimness in my eye?
Why did those burning drops distil —
Those bitter feelings rise?

O, that lone flower recalled to me
My happy childhood’s hours
When bluebells seemed like fairy gifts
A prize among the flowers,

Those sunny days of merriment
When heart and soul were free,
And when I dwelt with kindred hearts
That loved and cared for me.

I had not then mid heartless crowds
To spend a thankless life
In seeking after others’ weal
With anxious toil and strife.

‘Sad wanderer, weep those blissful times
That never may return!’
The lovely floweret seemed to say,
And thus it made me mourn.

*Ann Bronte

Hymn to Aphrodite

Greiffenhagen, Maurice; Aphrodite; Hunterian Art Gallery, University of Glasgow; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/aphrodite-138547

Hymn to Aphrodite

Throned in splendor, immortal Aphrodite!
Child of Zeus, Enchantress, I implore thee
Slay me not in this distress and anguish,
Lady of beauty.

Hither come as once before thou camest,
When from afar thou heard’st my voice lamenting,
Heard’st and camest, leaving thy glorious father’s Palace golden,

Yoking thy chariot. Fair the doves that bore thee;
Swift to the darksome earth their course directing,
Waving their thick wings from the highest heaven
Down through the ether.

Quickly they came. Then thou, O blessed goddess,
All in smiling wreathed thy face immortal,
Bade me tell thee the cause of all my suffering,
Why now I called thee;

What for my maddened heart I most was longing.
“Whom,” thou criest, “dost wish that sweet Persuasion
Now win over and lead to thy love, my Sappho?
Who is it wrongs thee?

“For, though now he flies, he soon shall follow,
Soon shall be giving gifts who now rejects them.
Even though now he love not, soon shall he love thee
Even though thou wouldst not.”

Come then now, dear goddess, and release me
From my anguish. All my heart’s desiring
Grant thou now. Now too again as aforetime,
Be thou my ally.

Sapho by Theodore Chasseriau (1819-1856) 1849

*Sappho

Forest of Life – The Four Aces

So this first week we have been asked to look at, meditate on and create with
the Four Aces. I decided as I mentioned in my previous post, that I am going to use the cards as prompts.

Today I pulled out the first 4 decks on my table. If I’m being honest these are the ones that I used yesterday and had not yet put back, – untidy/busy person that I am.

They were:

**Tarot of the Mystical Moments – Catrin Welz -Stein**

**Smith- Waite Tarot Deck – Centennial Edition**

I shuffled each deck first and asked for the appropriate Ace, to show itself and then went through until I found the first one.

I did this until I had the four laid before me, then I sat for a while, meditated, and then I started to write.

In the Beginning was the Word, and She was the Word and the Word was Her.

Nothing was created without her Whisper, and nothing ended without her Say.

Her Voice sang us into existence, and through Her Logos did we Become.

Thus, when her Logos became the Book, we grew from and out of it. Stretching towards the Heavens,

Our fragrance saturates the skies, like clouds of iridescent Hope.

Our leaves, like wings, imbibed by sunlight, lifted us until we transcended Imperfection and flew.

So sure of ourselves we forgot Her and cast Her aside, not knowing, illiterate to the Truth.

Only as we fell, spiralling down to the chthonic, into Her Interior. Where She, who begat it all, opened her bough and consumed us, did we understand

Laying Between and Betwixt, cradled in Her engorged Breasts, we waited for a new Nirvana. Such was our Belief.

And as Her waters broke, we rose from Virgin Territory. Girdled in Her Knowledge, Sanctified by Death.

Consecrated. Refreshed and repurposed, Transmuted by Dea, our Creatrix, our Queen of Heaven,

Like Lilies upon a Silent See, we floated towards Oblivion.

Forest of Life Calendar

Peter Duchemin, an amazing magical man and magician is the creator of the wonderful Meta Magic Matrix Forest of Life Calendar.

His system is very unique and based on the Venusian Calendar.

Each week he focuses on a card of the Tarot as he (and we ) journey through The Venusian Year creating as we go along.

A new year/cycle has just begun and so he has kindly invited people to join him on this most wonderful magical path.

This week begins with the Aces.

He is asking people who join ( free of charge), to reimagine and meditate with the Aces, in order to get a deeper understanding of the tarot system itself. You can then ‘create’ in any way that you feel drawn to, be that by drawing, painting, writing, singing or by, ‘just being. ‘

His hope is that by the end of the year, we/ you will have created an entire tarot deck of your own. His ‘ mission’. is ‘to see the birth of 10,000 Tarot decks… all using the rhythm of this amazing calendar.’

Here is the link to Peter’s Instagram page if you feel called to join – the more the merrier!
https://instagram.com/the_forest_of_life_calendar?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

This year, I am using it to try and write more, as such, I am going to use the cards as prompts. It may be poetry, prose (Short fiction/story) and/or a mixture of both,

What you see/read here will be on the whole first drafts, with very little editing, done after meditating, and led by Spirit.

*So be kind!*

Yule

The Shortest Day by Susan Cooper

And so the Shortest Day came and the year died

And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world

Came people singing, dancing,

To drive the dark away.

They lighted candles in the winter trees;

They hung their homes with evergreen;

They burned beseeching fires all night long

To keep the year alive.

And when the new year’s sunshine blazed awake

They shouted, reveling.

Through all the frosty ages you can hear them

Echoing behind us—listen!

All the long echoes, sing the same delight,

This Shortest Day,

As promise wakens in the sleeping land:

They carol, feast, give thanks,

And dearly love their friends,

And hope for peace.

And now so do we, here, now,

This year and every year.

Welcome, Yule!

Our Lady of Rennes, 3rd November

Also known as Our Lady of Miracles

LADY OF MIRACLES

Since you walked out on me
I’m getting lovelier by the hour.
I glow like a corpse in the dark.
No one sees how round and sharp
my eyes have grown
how my carcass looks like a glass urn,
how I hold up things in the rags of my hands,
the way I can stand though crippled by lust.
No, there’s just your cruelty circling
my head like a bright rotting halo.

by Nina Cassian

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The Shortest Day by Susan Cooper

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