My Root Tarot

For someone so happy to indulge in different forms of worship/being, I have come lately to the tarot. My first introduction to it was through Robertson Davies' Rebel Angel trilogy and then more directly Italo Calvino's Castle of Crossed Destinies, both of which I loved. I loved that these tarot cards were used in an open, creative way that yielded a multiplicity of stories. This is still how I see the tarot, less as a direct answer to a question, and more as a language of symbols that might break through our analytic overly sure minds.

My root tarot card, as you saw above is the high priestess. I've been learning a lot about her, and myself in the process. These days, this learning process is about opening and listening, rather than deciding that something is True.

Diamond in the Mind

First Butterfly, by Sulamith Wolfing

What better amulet can you carry than one that is always present in your mind?

Here is the "amulet" I was recently taught:

"All conditioned dharmas
Are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, or shadows;
Like drops of dew, or flashes of lightning;
Thusly should they be contemplated."
    —excerpt from Diamond Sutra

Yoga Practice: Migration

Bird migration at Eddystone Lighthouse, by Charles Samuel Keene

Watching birds fly south as the seasons change, I've been noticing my own movements as life around me changes and unfolds. I'm not sure where I'm headed, but like the birds, I seem to have some internal homing sense that leads me and pulls me along to the next destination.

Here are some things that have been meaningful to my yoga practice of late:

• Sun salutations with a pause to move back and forth between extended side-angle pose and reverse warrior pose. It feels a little bit like I'm stretching my wings and getting ready to fly.
• Finding eagle pose, then shifting my non-standing leg forward and then back to warrior three feels a little bit like I'm taking account of my situation and then letting go to soar.
• Taking time to do some some scissor jumping jacks with arms outstretched makes me feel little like I'm getting somewhere fast.
• Stretching out with heron and pigeon. These poses remind me that even birds need to take a rest from traveling now and then. 

Postmodern Hymn: No Line on the Horizon

Benten, by Warwick Goble

I could make a whole hymnal out of U2 songs, and I know they would be totally happy with that. It's common knowledge that they make use of Christian imagery in their lyrics and promote what they would say are Christian values, although their brand of Christianity is definitely not mainstream.

But before we get too concerned with labeling anyone "Christian" or "not-Christian" though, I'd like to look at one powerful image that continually resurfaces in their songs: the divine feminine. It's an image that blurs the line between Christianity and non-Christianity. Listen to songs such as "No Line on the Horizon," "She Moves in Mysterious Ways," "Grace," "Lemon," "Gloria," and you'll hear a collection of recurring motifs: the mysterious female, grace, ocean, moon.

What do these motifs have in common? For one thing, the lyrics point to a lack of control, either in the creative process or in the search for absolution. Creativity and grace come unexpectedly, as Bono says in an interview with Rolling Stone: "This kind of spirit blows through every now and then. It’s a very strange feeling. We’re waiting for God to walk into the room – and God, it turns out, is very unreliable."

If you're interested in this topic, here are some fun reads on the interwebs:

• "U2: The Stadium Psalmists and Prophets," by Mark Meynell
• U2 posts on Rock and Theology
• "Yeats, U2, and Poetic Imagination," by Joe Bisz 
• "Mysterious Ways: The Kabbalah of U2," by Geofrey Dennis

Food for the Soul: Roasted Beets

Beetroot, by Maria Livings and Marie Rodgers of Lush Designs

Let's celebrate autumn with the vegetable that is surely the juiciest, most autumnal root—the beet!

"The beet is the ancient ancestor of the autumn moon, bearded, buried, all but fossilized; the dark green sails of the grounded moon-boat stitched with veins of primordial plasma; the kite string that once connected the moon to the Earth now a muddy whisker drilling desperately for rubies."

    —Jitterbug Perfume, by Tom Robbins

Beets aren't the friendliest things to cook, but you can be rewarded with candy-flavored little jewels of food if you're willing to put into some slicing and roasting time. 

Slice them up (wear an apron but enjoy the way your hands turn a lovely hot pink color). Toss in a few sliced carrots and let them get a little pink, too. Sprinkle some rosemary over beets and carrots. Roast at 400 or 425 until they're tender—about 45 minutes. 

You can make salads with roasted beets (red cabbage, walnut, red apples, and red wine vinegar is a good one), but after waiting for them to roast, I'm usually to impatient to do anything but eat them! Try roasting them at the same time as you roast a chicken.

Remember to save your beet greens, too, for a light reminder of the end of summer. If you have a juicer, the beet greens make a lovely pink foam for the top of your orange-carrot juice.

Nature's Course

Daphne mezereum with butterfly, by Georg Dionysus Ehret
via Victoria and Albert Museum

The flower invites the butterfly with no-mind;
The butterfly visits the flower with no-mind.
The flower opens, the butterfly comes;
The butterfly comes, the flower opens.
I don't know others,
Others don't know me.
By not-knowing we follow nature's course.
    —from Dewdrops on a Lotus Leaf, by Ryokan, translated by John Stevens, via gardendigest

This Zen poem has come up in several contexts lately, and along with a conversation on Derrida and his concept of waiting for the revelatory presence of the Other, it has me thinking some about the mysterious, unfathomable depth of things.

It's a favorite topic of mine; I seem to find the theme in a variety of places—Italo Calvino's writings, for example. The mysterious Other has such potential for ethics and art. Accepting the Other as mysterious leaves space for authentic encounters to occur. And, when the concept is combined either with a scientific or Taoist/holistic perspective, the face of the Other shifts. That mysterious Other that seems to completely separate from me becomes a part of me. 

Zen: The Life of Dogen

from Zen
via Rusty Ring

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to watch a wonderful movie, Zen, a Japanese movie about the great teacher Dogen. I can't recommend this movie highly enough. It's absolutely beautiful, visually and philosophically. It includes many famous sayings from Dogen's life, including this lovely conversation he has with a head cook:

I asked, "What are words?" The tenzo said, "One, two, three, four, five." I asked again, "What is practice?" "Nothing in the entire universe is hidden."

Trust me, this movie will make you see your own life differently. Maybe, like Dogen, you will find yourself on the shore, with the full moon above you.