Tens - a reading (on YouTube)
I’m coming up on a decadal birthday anniversary. These are
the ones everyone in our society seems to take most note of, as if reaching a
certain age is a major life accomplishment. It beats the alternative, I guess. Though
honestly, 13 and 21 are bigger events in most young people’s minds than 10 and
20. But 3-0 begins the first in a series of “big” birthdays.
I can’t say I’m looking forward to this one. Not because I
feel old, merely older. It’s like losing my hair, my age is not something I
hide, or hide from. More, I think I’m apprehensive because the past has taught
me that big birthday anniversaries often bring big changes, not all of them for
the better.
Within six months of my turning ten, my parents divorced
which pretty much turned my world upside down. By the fall of that year, I had
gone from being distinctly middle class to qualifying for free lunch at school.
The next few years were the darkest of my childhood.
The day I turned twenty, my father called my mother to try
to convince her to cut off what support she gave me for college. Their divorce agreement
mandated he pay for half my tuition because of money he’d raided from an
educational fund. His call chained to her calling me in tears, and then me
calling him to tell him never to call her again when he’d been drinking. But he
succeeded in his quest a year later when she cut me off without warning.
Unlucky for him, I came up with the cash to hold up my end of the bargain so he
was still on the hook for his.
When I turned thirty, I was in the midst of planning a
wedding. My wife and I were married a month later, the best day of my life. But
six months after that, I learned a family secret that led to arguably the two
toughest years of my life, perhaps barring 2007. The scar they left still aches
some days and in fact may never heal. My only comfort lies in knowing my
reaction may have prevented someone else from sharing her experience.
A week after I turned forty, my wife was in surgery having
the last real hope of our ever having children removed. Only a handful of
people came to visit her in the hospital, giving me my first real taste of how
in hard times, friends sometimes disappear. A few weeks later, an erstwhile
friend decided it was a good time to malign her in an email. It didn’t end well
for him, or the friendship.
Those were hard years. Against that backdrop, I’m uncertain
what this year will bring. I am not superstitious just cautious from my
experience. Coincidence does not indicate causation. And the changes those
years brought helped define who I am now, much of it for the better.
As I look back, in an odd way I take comfort from the tarot.
Okay, first, let’s clear up a misconception. Like the I Ching, the primary
purpose of the tarot is not some sort of mystical divination. More, both act as
intuitive guides to illuminate sometimes unrecognized patterns. The Major Arcana
of a tarot deck track a spiritual journey from the Fool to Enlightenment (the
World). The Minor Arcana highlight aspects of the ordinary distractions that
crop up along the way.
The Minor Arcana are divided into four suits that mirror the
four classical elements of antiquity, coins – earth, cups – water, wands –
fire, swords – air, with the Major Arcana acting as a binding Spirit. Together,
they create a useful metaphor, a lens through which to view this life.
Similar to ordinary playing cards, each suit of the Minor
Arcana is divided into ten numbered cards and four face cards, princess,
knight, queen and king. Each ace through ten tracks a secondary cycle of events
shaped by the influence of its suit. Where the ace represents the essence of an
element, the ten represents its excess, for good or ill. In the case of cups,
it’s an overflow of joy. In wands, an oppressive burden. In coins, material
comfort taken for granted. In swords, a ridiculous amount of pain. Where the
nines truly capture the epitome of each suit, the tens are like that second
helping of ice cream you know you shouldn’t eat. Even of a good thing, they are
little too much. And of a bad thing, they are overkill.
If you roll all those tens together, you come up with the
ten of the Major Arcana titled The Wheel of Fortune. Depending on which
interpretation you ascribe to, the Wheel is the random events of life over
which you have no control. Or sometimes, it’s reminder that pride comes before
a fall. At its heart it represents the constancy of change. If you’ve been cast
low, you have nowhere to go but up. If you’ve been raised high, be careful of
that next step.
Which brings me full circle to the beginning and what this
year will bring. A little bit of everything I expect, some joy, some tears,
some success, some burden. In that way, life is a little like the weather: If
you don’t like what’s outside at the moment, just wait a while and check again.
I’ll guarantee it will be different.
As a friend pointed out to me this week, if we’d had six
fingers, or four, instead of five, anniversaries divisible by ten wouldn’t be
such a big deal (though I suspect anniversaries ending in zero still would be).
The Chinese have such a system, a cycle of twelve years overlaid with a greater
cycle of five. As with the I Ching, maybe they see life in broader patterns. So
by that thought, in ten more years maybe I get to start again.
But at this point, the best I can hope is that I’ve only
lived half my life already. It’s more likely I have less time left on this
earth than I’ve already spent. If anything, that’s what weighs on me most about
this birthday, what on my list remains undone and whether I get the chance to
do it.
In the end, I need to remember to enjoy each season of each
year while I’m in it. Winter for its quietude. Spring for its rebirth. Summer
for its warmth. Fall for its harvest. And then we start over. Like counting up
to ten. After all the events in recent years, maybe a little change wouldn’t be
such a bad thing right now.
© 2014 Edward P. Morgan III
