The Tower is Closing

For the past couple of months, I’ve been weighing the pros and cons of ending this blog, which I started in August, 2007.  In the end, I’ve decided the pros outweigh the cons – so this is my final post.

This blog has given me a chance to express my ideas, concerns and opinions and giving up this opportunity was a big “con” in my consideration.  However, I’ve never done the enormous amount of personal and technical work necessary to bring this blog to the attention of a larger audience, and I don’t feel like doing it now.  But by not doing it, I’ve increasingly felt that I’ve just been sporadically and inconsistently screaming into an unhearing void, and what’s the point in continuing if I’m not going to do the work to promote/market Views From the Tower?  For me, the final answer is that there is no point, so it’s time to end it.

That said, I very much appreciate that those of you who have been following this blog took the time to do so, and some of you have often taken the time to send me private emails of response: much praise and sometimes disagreement.  All of it was gratifying, encouraging, and gave me the sense that I wasn’t entirely screaming into an unhearing void.  Thank you very, very much.

As a writer, I certainly intend to keep writing.  I’m working on a mystery novel, something I’ve always wanted to do.  In a way, given my politics, it amuses me and reminds me of the time in the 70s that Eldridge Cleaver moved to Paris and became a pants designer.  But I’m no Eldridge Cleaver and also have no delusion that I’ll become a modern Agatha Christie.  I just want to have some fun (and maybe make a little money).  I haven’t had a lot of fun as a writer and now seems like a good time to do it.  Equally important, I abandoned my relationship with The Tarot about ten years ago and I want to reclaim it.  It enriched my life when I had it and I want that connection again – and that’s a study/practice that takes time.  You may or may not understand what this means, but suffice it to say The Tarot is important to me and that’s reason enough for me.

In general, having turned 60 earlier this year, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to time – time past, present and future.  And December is annually the month in which I give the most thought to time: it’s filled with holidays I no longer celebrate with family and friends; it’s the end of one year and the birth of a new one; and I’m reminded of what was lost in Decembers past.  John Lennon, who was murdered at the age of 40 in December 1980, would have been 72 this year.  His five-year-old son who was left fatherless turned 37.  A dear friend of mine, Stuart Franklin, died in December 21 years ago.  Had my mother and father survived their 70s, they would be 89 and 90 now – a misery I’m glad they were spared, but I still miss them terribly.

I also think about the meaningful, functional time I have left.  I don’t have oodles of it.  Over the past few months, arthritis has settled in my left shoulder, wrist and hand.  Over the past few years, my teeth have started screwing up.  My right knee is prone to slipping out from under me.  My hearing, especially in my left ear, has greatly diminished.  My home and daily routine are both a mess and hugely dysfunctional.  I need the time to get these things together and bring some peace and order to the rest of my time.

So again, my thanks, and my best wishes to all of you, as well as my hope that you have the opportunity to do what you wish and need to do with your time.  Also, Happy Holidays and Happy New Year.  Here’s hoping the future brings better times for us all.

To Everything a Season

In a few hours, when the sun sets on the East Coast, North American followers of two of the world’s primary religions will begin the observance of their holiest time of the year: Judaism’s spiritually sober yet celebratory New Year, Rosh Hashanah and Islam’s month-long period of sacred reflection and daytime fasting, Ramadan. These holidays are, in tone and intent, akin to Lent in Christianity.

As a Jew, Rosh Hashanah has personal meaning for me, a rich blend of childhood memories and comfortable ritual that enriches the importance of this holiday. As an ordained Interfaith minister, I regard the confluence of these two holidays as a powerful divine command to take stock, reassess and atone, as well as reflect, rejoice, renew and restore. And coming on the heels of the September 11th anniversary, I appreciate the equally-strong secular imperative to slow down and look within, instead of zooming about in our usual frantic manner of behaving like human doings rather than human beings. This is a time for sincere beingness, lest we lose sight of who we are and what we’re doing.

As a Tarotist, I enjoy the fact that both the Jewish and Muslim holidays are based on the lunar calendars that chronicle these religions. In the Tarot, the Moon is the 18th card in the Major Arcana and, not incidentally, 18 is the number that corresponds to the Hebrew word chai (life) and Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar (and 2 x 9 = 18…). The Moon represents the life of the soul in darkness and in light; it stands for what is hidden and the necessity of revelation. Ramadan calls for “the spiritual cleansing of the soul through restraint” (by fasting and sexual abstinence); Rosh Hashanah, which literally means “head of the year,” initiates a period of spiritual growth and redemption.

It may be a cliché to say that true faith and humanity should express itself through peace, forgiveness and unity, especially at this time of the year, but cliché or not, that is what’s so and it’s worth repeating until it sinks in. Whatever your faith (or lack of it) may be, I hope you will join me in expressing a heartfelt wish that all of humankind will use its beliefs and intelligence to make the spirit of Rosh Hashanah and Ramadan a functioning reality every day of the year.

Confessions of a Tarot Floozy

About ten years ago, I was honored to be an active member of an e-mail discussion group called Tarot-L. It was the place to be for Tarot people back then; many of the leading authors, scholars and readers participated, as well as plain old Tarot enthusiasts. During that time, a joking conversation with a Tarot friend motivated me to write the following little piece of Tarot humor. As I said when I put it out on Tarot-L, this was written with great affection and no disrespect is intended. I believe God has a wacky sense of humor; I certainly think the Tarot gods are just as amiable. If you don’t know the Tarot well, this piece probably won’t mean much to you – but if you’re a true Tarot aficionado, I think you’ll get a kick out of it. Enjoy!

People talk about the Tarot and how wise and wonderful it is, and how it can foretell the future and all. Yet no reader could have told me what my life would be like after I first got involved with those cards. In the beginning it was a thrilling new WORLD, an 8 OF WANDS of kicks and surprises. Then a dark side was revealed. I got myself into Major trouble, even though I was still a Minor. I had climbed high up the tree of life. But soon I had the DEVIL to pay and fell to ruin. I had spread myself too thin. Oh, if only I had foreseen the outcome!

It all started out innocently enough, right after I moved to Tarotown. I was having a few laughs with the MAGICIAN. I thought he was Aces. He’s an infinitely dynamic guy and before I knew what was happening, he laid his cards on the table. He loosened his snake, pointed at me and said “Do you want it Above or Below?” and I just lost my head!

Afterwards I felt so 9 OF SWORDS that it was months before I got involved with the EMPEROR. I’ve always had a thing about older men. He’s very commanding and I felt so safe with him. I was still new in Tarotown and I didn't even know about the EMPRESS until she and that harpy, the HIGH PRIESTESS (there’s more behind that veil than meets the eye!) cornered me at the salad bar in the Red Lobster near one of the local covens. They told me in no uncertain terms to 8 OF CUPS out of town. So it was bye, bye EMPEROR.

I was really shaken and I went 6 OF SWORDS up to New England and just hung out for awhile with the Motherpeace cards. They were so comforting, so nurturing; I really got my 2 OF PENTACLES back. But I couldn’t stay there forever. First of all, there were just too many damn Pages all over the place. And for another, I found myself willing to kill for a hamburger and a straight-back chair – I mean, how much tofu and sitting in circles can a girl take?

So I came back to Tarotown. And one day, I met the HERMIT over at the library and was so taken with him: quiet, shy, hooded... I felt this was someone who wouldn't exploit me. Yeah, right! I won’t even begin to tell you what he wanted to do with that staff and lantern once he got me alone!

I was very depressed after that and went on a sort of Lost Weekend, picking up Knights in bars without evening knowing their Suits, and letting some of those husky Pentacle types have their way with me. There was even an orgy with the 5 OF WANDS (hell, what do you think they’re fighting about!). I tried to have a serious relationship with some of the other Wands and a few Swords, but talk about emotionally unavailable men! Then there was a really ugly encounter with the 7 OF SWORDS. I don't want to call it rape, but he was very rough with me and made off with all my cash and credit cards!

That really set me back and before I knew it, I’d lost my job, my home, my self-respect. I was working the streets of Tarotown, jumping into any CHARIOT that slowed down along the avenue, holing up in a crack den in the TOWER, playing those pathetic 8 OF SWORDS bondage games. I was strung out on herbs and aromas and let myself get hooked up with that creep, the 6 OF PENTACLES, working for whatever pennies he saw fit to dole out to me. Oh, the shame!

I’d hit bottom. Miss 5 OF PENTACLES, that was me! Then a few of my girlfriends – maybe you know them, the 3 OF CUPS? – did a full-court intervention with me and I realized what a FOOL I’d been. They sent me out west to stay with the Medicine Wheel cards for about six months. After a few sessions in the sweat lodge and some really intense drumming, I was right as rain!

So I came home to Tarotown, my town, the town I love. And I’ve started a new life. It’s not much. I’m living in the TEN OF PENTACLES halfway house and just started a new job with the 3 OF PENTACLES (really, really nice people...). I still have dreams of meeting the KING OF CUPS, getting 4 OF WANDSed and living 10 OF CUPS ever after. But I'm trying to keep my eyes open and my expectations reasonable. Who knows, maybe someday I'll meet a nice, steady 8 OF PENTACLES and settle down. For now, I'm just taking it a day at a time. Lord, give me STRENGTH!

This post is illustrated with THE STAR because she, like this sweet little recovering floozy, represents openness, hope, generosity and good cheer (a Trump with a heart of gold)!.

Welcome to Views From the Tower

May you live in interesting times, says an ancient Chinese curse -- and who can deny that our times are interesting indeed! In the Tarot, The Tower card tells of cataclysmic change, wrenching loss, enormous destruction, complete upheaval in power, and the wrath of nature -- in other words, the state of the world today. It's easy to lose one's head and dive out. But despite the flames and lightning, there are options -- and opportunities. I call my blog "Views From the Tower" because I live in a small apartment in a high-rise that I rarely leave. It is both a sanctuary and a prison that provides a respite from the madness outside. I keep vampire hours. I don't entertain. Yet still, the world invades: the television, the telephone, email and the Internet, and my dreams. I stay out of the fray, but increasingly, I realize that I can't stay out of the struggles. In chaos there is profit, another old saying advises. We all of us, each of us, in our way, have a chance to build something better out of all that is broken. But we have to stay informed, we have to speak out, we have to be willing to surrender the comfortable familiar for something hard and new (I'm still working on that one). I'm trying to turn my tower into a vantage point, a platform, and a launching pad. I don't know if it will make any difference, but it couldn't hurt -- and just maybe it might help.

The Choices We Make

During Thursday night’s Democratic debate on GLBT issues, Gov. Bill Richardson of New Mexico was asked if he believed being gay was a biological fact or a personal choice, and his immediate response was “It’s a choice.” He was asked the question again (since “choice” was not the right answer), and he spiraled into the Bush 43 parallel universe where ignorance rules and language is brutally mangled.

It has been firmly established that sexual orientation is inborn, not selected, but that’s not the point. What if being gay was a choice? Would that justify gay-bashing, discrimination, and a complete lack of civil rights? Why aren’t people entitled to make personal choices that other people may not approve of without being reviled? Why should demands for social justice always be couched in terms of “don’t hate me, I can’t help being what I am.”?

This matter of choice and its intimations is a sore point with me, because I’ve been confronted with it all my life. I’m bi-racial (white mother/black father) and I was raised to never deny or be ashamed of what I was; in fact, I was raised to define myself as black (actually, Negro). I didn’t deny it and I wasn’t ashamed, but I was confused, because I look white – not light, white. I’ve always had problems with some black people about this. If I defend my heritage, they’re irritated because I have the option of copping to it, or not, a choice they don’t have. If I don’t make a point of it, they’re offended because they think I’m trying to hide something – and anyway, I’ve never experienced racism because I can pass. This no-win situation was brought into sharp “you can’t make this shit up” relief back in the 60s, when I was harassed by members of the local Black Panthers for not being black enough, then asked to join an elite corps of members who were given special assignments because they could pass. I declined.

Right now, America is in a stranglehold of rage about choices – the cars we drive (no SUVs!), the food we eat (no red meat!), the energy we consume (watch those carbon footprints!), the words we use, the lifestyles we live. I firmly believe the reproductive rights movement really started having trouble when they adopted the term pro-choice. It accurately describes the position, but it hits hot buttons among the anti-choice contingent (they’re pro-life in their dreams), because, in their estimation, there are some things one should not be legally allowed to choose.

Chief among the other things that shouldn’t be legal choices are cigarette smoking (aaagh!), pot smoking (maybe medical marijuana is okay, but you shouldn’t be able to have it just because you want it), teenage sex (abstinence only!) and not being as “green” as Kermit the Frog. Ironically, being fat is considered by most people to always be a choice, even though it rarely is – but then, not choosing to be obsessively healthy, compulsively fit and hysterically environmentally friendly is simply inexcusable.

It’s no wonder that people are largely indifferent to the myriad ways in which the Bush administration has shredded the Constitution. The Bill of Rights is out of fashion. “They hate us for our freedom!” GWB is always telling us. But our freedoms have been eroded and our social conversation has devolved into a polarized screaming match. Can we turn the tide towards rational debate, compromise, mutual acceptance and respect? The choice is ours.

This post is illustrated with the Tarot's Seven of Cups because this card is all about the choices we make.