Auntie Doris’s Tarot Card of the Week #30 The Eight of Swords: 26th May – 2nd June 2014

Well, this young lass has got herself into a right pickle hasn’t she. All tied up and blindfolded on the beach, with eight ruddy great swords stuck in the sand around her. Not a very pleasant position to be in. Plus it’s miles back to the castle, which is at the top of a steep hill.
The thing is, that she could easily wriggle out of those strips of material tying her up and take the blindfold off if she wanted. And then she would realise that although she is surrounded by swords, the people who put them there have all gone, and are not ruddy interested in whether or not she sorts herself out. It’s completely up to her. She needs to get a move on though, because it’s getting dark, and the tide is coming in, and it looks like it might rain soon, and she doesn’t appear to have brought an umbrella. (Although she might be holding one behind her back)
We have all been in a position like that. Where we have got ourselves into a right old tizzy because of what we see as a threat from people who have left their mark, but are not really bothered about wether we sort ourselves out or not. When I was a young woman, I was surrounded by swords, and petrified to think for myself. This is who had left them. My father who was a lay preacher at the local nonconformist chapel, and used to nip my legs if he thought that I had misbehaved; Mr Transept, the vicar at the chapel, who used to encourage him, and sometimes watched him do it; God, who my father and Mr Transept told me approved of the nippings and had sent his only son, so that I didn’t have to suffer worse punishments; Mrs Rostrum, my form teacher at the Newland School for Girls who said I would never amount to anything “if I didn’t pull my socks up”; Doctor Caldicott, who blamed all my illnesses on what he called an “indolent lifestyle” and always prescribed castor oil and vinegar; Sergeant Scrape, the local bobby, who boxed my ears for pinching apples and told me he wouldn’t press charges if I didn’t tell anyone what he had done, Mrs Varicose, the nit nurse, who made me wash my hair in paraffin, and Bridget Shunt, who was in my class at school, was bigger than me, and once stole my pencil and snapped it before giving me it back.
They had all moved on in one way or another, and left me to pluck up the courage to remove the blindfold and realise that I could walk away. and that is the message of this card. You can do the same!
Four things that you might do this week: (i) Walk away. No need to forgive. No need to forget either. Just walk away from the guilt and fear that other ruddy silly fools have put into you. You are your own person. despite all of them. (ii) Go for a walk on the beach, but don’t take any swords or blindfolds, take a bucket and a spade, some little paper flags, and an umbrella. (iii) have a nice chat with someone who you suspect is surrounded by unattended swords, help them to get rid of them, the council might come and collect them if you give them a ring. You can get a good price for scrap metal these days. (iv) if you have been making swords to bother other people with, ruddy well pack it in. Lay them swords down by the riverside and beat them into something useful, like ruddy ploughshares. Whatever they are, when they are all at home.
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