Seen by the side of the road

I was amused.

          

Meeting my Shadow, 2

Just a quick follow-up to this post from New Year's Day.

Ten minutes ago I was on the sidewalk out in front, stretching my legs for a few minutes, and I thought about this ongoing argument with Marie. And suddenly it occurred to me: one reason that Marie's moralism drives me so crazy is that I used to do the same thing. (Maybe I still do, but I try hard not to.)

At the moment that the thought struck me, there was an example to hand as well. Now, ten minutes later, I don't remember what it was. Oh wait, yes I do.

Echo chamber, 2

I just checked, and my last post on this topic was two weeks ago. Obviously I dropped a week in my memory. (Marie and I talk every Wednesday morning, you see.) I think we've reached a terminus on the discussion, but I wish I were happier about it.

I should probably just go to bed. I'm drowsy and droopy; and while the amount I drank with dinner isn't enough to put me away, it's enough to make me flabby and imprecise. On the other hand, I was thinking earlier this afternoon (admittedly, while completely sober) that it was about time to post a follow up to the earlier note. So here goes.

Medieval poetry for the win!

You find the damnedest stuff on Twitter. (Excuse me, X.)

Today, for example, I found a pair of medieval Welsh poems. One is by a male poet, addressing his cock with some exasperation. Then a century later (or so) there's one from a female poet, complaining that men don't compliment women's cunts nearly as often as they should.

You'll find the details below the fold. 

Echo chamber

This morning I had a Skype call with Marie. She had been out of contact for five days. When we started the call she was troubled. By the end of the call she said I had cheered her up. So far, so good, I guess.

But God in heaven, what an unsatisfactory call!

Am I become Death?

Back on New Year's Day, I did a Tarot reading for myself for the year. Much of what it told me was unexceptional. My immediate situation was pegged as waiting (8 Wands reversed), exacerbated by indecision (2 Swords). The basis of my situation is that I'm acting like a scholar (Page of Pentacles) by thinking and writing, both here and in my professional blog under my real name. And so on.

Now my Self card was Death. At the time, I read this as advice that I would see major changes in my Self this year, because I have always read that card as "major change." But I wonder if there might not be more going on?

Over on the Patio I just finished a pair of articles which propose that humans thrive best under conditions of adversity, scarcity, and conflict—not peace and plenty. (You can find the first one here, and the second one here.) And last night, after I finished writing and posting the second article, I started to think about it with respect to my own situation. I have enough to eat and drink, and a roof over my head, all without working. I live alone, so I don't have to fight with anyone over the breakfast table. For the most part, except for some writing once or twice a week, there's nothing special that I need to do.

When John B. Calhoun subjected a population of rats to those exact same conditions, the rats died.

And so I began to wonder, Does the Death card have a double meaning for me right now? Yes, of course it generally means "major change." And of course anyone learning the Tarot is always warned not to read it as death simply and straight-up, because that will terrify the person you are reading for. But I start to think that maybe it means something a little more complex, something like this: