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:

You have a choice before you this year. You can change how you are living, or not. If you do change how you are living, it will have to be a major change to make any difference; and major changes are represented by the card Death. On the other hand if you don't make a major change, the way you are living is already a form of death! Every time you nap in the afternoon instead of writing or exercising, it's a way of choosing unconsciousness—a little death (and not the fun kind!)—instead of full engagement with life and the day at hand. Every time you drink too much at night and watch YouTube videos, it's a way of escaping from your lived experience. Make these choices often enough, and you will die without achieving any of the things you wanted to do with this freedom you have now. And if you really never get any exercise or any social stimulation, that real physical death will come sooner rather than later. That's what happened to Calhoun's rats, after all.

Just bloody wonderful.

Yes, I remember how poorly my dad handled his own retirement, when he didn't actually have to go to work to keep food on the table. I also remember that it is not enough simply to identify a bad outcome, in order to avoid it. You have to want to do something different—in fact, to will it—and that's not always so easy. I've talked about that distinction a number of times before. (I can find three such posts in the last year-and-a-bit: here, here, and here.)

The longer I think about it, the more I think this card fits, with the reading I've given it here. And no, of course I don't want to die soon. Now if only I can find a way to will that I live, and live productively. Maybe I need to fling myself into a cauldron of adversity, scarcity, and conflict? Gosh, I hope there's an easier way than that!