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Theories: Ten of Pentacles |
Posted by
Schizo on Saturday, September 13, 2003 - 04:04 AM PST
She levered her heavy eyelids open, but somehow her eyes didn't want to focus, so she untwisted a stiff arm from under her and ground her knuckles in them until they blinked to submission. 5:07AM, the red and slightly blurred numbers told her, and only 23 minutes until her alarm went off, a fuzzy, almost imperceptable stream of music from her clock radio, but it was enough to wake her up. At least since the baby; everything wakes her up now. But she really didn't even need that. She always woke up before the alarm nowadays.
She closed her eyes once more, debating whether to get up, or to savor those last few minutes in bed. She heard a quiet snore beside her - Ben had allergies, and he had been snoring off and on all night. Luckly, unlike her, he was virtually unwakable, and a few gentle nudges could produce the necessary change of position without disturbing his precious sleep. He never got out of work until after midnight, except that night the transformer blew up at the factory, and they sent him home at 9:45. But that wasn't this night. Better let the man sleep. But the snoring was irritating enough to drive her out of bed, unwinding the comforter from her legs, and stumbling over last night's cast-off clothes. She remembered to turn off the alarm before she left the room, even though she knew it would wake no one. Neither did the creak in the hardwood floor, although the baby turned slightly in response. It was always a little hard to bring herself to leave for work in the mornings. That's why she always got up so early. She had to leave a little time for something pleasant before facing the daily grind. This morning, it was a book. She had 45 minutes to read and eat her breakfast. That left time for a shower and getting dressed. As usual, the reading time ended before she had gotten her fill. The comfort of the hot shower also ended too soon. She crept back into the bedroom to grope for clothes in the semi-dark. It was a lot easier now, in the early summer dawn, to put an outfit together. A pair of jeans, a t-shirt, underwear, and socks. She looked over at the thin figure lying, blankets thrown off, on the untidy bed. So thin. But it was impossible to get him to eat - nerves, perhaps. He was always wound tight like a spring. Lying there in bed he looked like something she could snap between her fingers. Maybe if they could get ahead - buy a house, maybe one to rent; that was his dream - maybe then he would lose that fragile quality, and take care of himself. She couldn't do it for him - working separate shifts, so they wouldn't need a babysitter - she had so little time to be with him, and she was so tired when she had the time. But speaking of time - she had none now. It was time to get dressed, almost time to leave. She stuffed some money for the cafeteria in her jeans pocket, and grabbed her keys and badge. Out the door, in the car (Jimi Hendrix sang her to work), and into the factory she went. On went the suit of sterile blue. On went the fluffy white hairnet. Just one more working drone for the hive. 8 and a half hours, 1 hour of break, just building parts, building parts, working in America for rich Japanese. Her mind obsessed with daydreams, problems, anything and nothing. Her 45 minute lunch break she was allowed to go home. Even pushing her old junkyard-bait car to its trembling limits, that only left her 20 minute with Ben. With the baby, too, if she was lucky, and it wasn't taking a nap. Not this time, though. But that was good in its own way. With the baby awake, it was a constant distraction. She had time with her child - not enough time, but time. But time alone with Ben was hard to come by. She walked in the door, and tried to pretend that it was the weekend, and not the middle of a workday. But, then again, it was the workday that gave them a door to walk through - they had both had enough of the humiliation of living off others - be it friends, family, or the state. The neglected clutter on the furniture was a monument to independence, and the weariness on their faces was matched by the pride in their accomplishment. The 20 minutes was packed with all they could remember to say of nearly 24 hours of "I need to tell them this"-es. Mostly, they just sat next to each other, soaking each other's presense up. These minutes, after all, were the ones they lived for. And they were over far too quickly. A quick kiss, and out the door she went. A couple more hours of mind-numbing work. Then again a brief meet in the parkinglot, with the baby in the car. Another quick kiss. Ben walked into the factory. She got into the car. Switch to mom mode. Here was the happiest time of day. There was enough time for her to enjoy her child before bedtime. This was what kept her going. The fact that, were it not for the baby, she would certainly have more time with Ben, did not dampen the enjoyment of the next few hours. In the life she had to live, you must take joy where you can find it. The baby had a cold today, and by bedtime, her t-shirt was patched with snot. Funny how it would have bothered her once upon a time. She brushed the baby's teeth, getting her finger bitten in the process, changed the baby's soaked diaper, and bundled it off with a bottle of water in the crib. Now came her own time, if she could just find the energy to enjoy it. A little time on the computer, perhaps, or reading a book, or perhaps watching TV or playing a video game. But as often as not, she went to bed soon after the baby. If she went to bed early, then she could get up when Ben came home, and still be able to wake up for work the next morning. So she crept into the bedroom and shed her clothes on top of yesterday's pile. Creak, went the hardwood floor. The baby turned in its sleep. She crawled into bed, on Ben's side, using his pillow, and pulled the old down comforter up to her shoulders. The pillow retained Ben's smell - she remembered taking deep, hungry breaths of that smell once upon a time, at the beginning. Passion of that kind takes an energy that working mothers don't possess, but the smell still made her smile. It was comforting - homey; it made her feel like she belonged, and she fell asleep every night on this side of the bed for that reason. And fell asleep quickly. Her note waited up for Ben as he came in the door a little after midnight. She woke to feel him shaking her. Slowly, she extended each limb to its limit, yawning as if to take in the entire room in one gulp. After a couple minutes, she followed him out to the living room. The TV was on, its blue light mingling with the blacklight on the entertainment center, and the purple spiderweb lights she bought a couple Halloweens ago. She sat next to him, leaning on his bony arm like she was superglued. His fingers found her knee and rested there. They didn't say much, a little about their days, whatever they had forgotten to say before. He was a chronic channel-surfer, but that didn't bother her. She didn't care much for TV anyway - she was here to be with him. Again, there was not much energy for passion. Both were worn with work and baby. Just sitting there, experiencing each other, silently sharing their mutual dreams of a better life. Their plans for getting there. Mutually exhausted with their struggle to carry out those plans. Someday, they would work the same shift, maybe not have to work that many hours. Someday, moments together would not have to be snatched. Energy would not have to be conserved. It could be wasted, prodigally, where now it was hoarded. The things they enjoyed about life would have room to expand and grow. There is always a someday, but now there was a today, where she sat next to him, and it was good in its own way. Perhaps you value things more when you struggle for them. Perhaps this stolen moment is the one she will look back on from her future paradise with half-envious remembrance. Remembering the day when they dreamed together. When they told their tarot, and gathered hope from the sight of the ten of pentacles.
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Ten of Pentacles | Login/Create an account | 13 Comments |
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Re: Ten of Pentacles by Schizo (Aranea@spidersdance.com) on Sep 14, 2003 - 08:10 AM (User info | Send a Message) http://http:// | Thankyou, Squid. It WAS from the heart. I've written so many articles on all those horrid times a couple years ago. I kind of wanted people to see what life is for me now. Maybe reassure them a little. I'm tired and all that goes along with that, but I'm OK and my life is good.
By the way, names have been changed to protect the semi-innocent! |
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Re: Ten of Pentacles by chameleon on Sep 15, 2003 - 11:19 AM (User info | Send a Message) http:// | Thats excellent Schizo. To find joy in life, is that not what we are all here for? I feel all warm and hopeful inside now! Never studious in the tarot, I'm wondering what the ten of pentacles is though... |
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Re: Ten of Pentacles by Schizo (Aranea@spidersdance.com) on Sep 15, 2003 - 05:40 PM (User info | Send a Message) http://http:// | About the 10 of pentacles, there's a bit of a story behind that. Though, while explaining it, realize that different tarot decks differ in variations of meaning.
While I was pregnant with my daughter, I found it necessary to release my boyfriend to deal with the fact that he wasn't over his ex yet. (to put it mildly). He lived with her and their two children for almost six months of my pregnancy before he finally got it through his skull that he didn't want to be with her. So we gave it another (thankfully, successful) try at that point.
His ex is a Wiccan, and liked to tell the Tarot. She had a bad habit of doing it about every night, which I've found is really not healthy and can make you obsess over little things. She used to tell his cards over and over. There were two cards that she kept drawing repeatedly in his readings. One was the death card, which she freaked out over, saying he was going to die. However, I am of the opinion that this card was predicting the death of his desire to be with her. The other card was the 10 of pentacles.
My boyfriend told me about this, and it made me curious. I had a tarot deck, so I looked up that particular card to see why she got all upset about this one. In my deck, the 10 of pentacles shows a family scene, with an old man, a mid-aged male and female figure, a small boy and a couple of dogs. Considering that the source of her upset was her interpretation of the card as my boyfriend, myself, and our child together and happy, this did not make much sense. So I found out what deck she had, and bought it.
In her deck, the 10 of pentacles depicts three dark-haired figures - a young man, young woman, and a little girl. The adults are holding hands, and the woman's free hand is resting on the girl's head. They are walking through a field of flowers towards the open gate of a golden castle.
This is the card that disturbed the peace of mind of my boyfriend's ex when she saw it in his readings. At the time, we did not know for certain what sex the baby would be, and I don't think she knew at all. But it turned out a girl, as the card showed, and the three of us are all dark-haired, also like the card. We are all together, and happy, as depicted, which is not something that would have naturally been predicted at the time.
But the real reason we derive so much comfort from the card is the part that has yet to be fulfilled. The peaceful field of flowers, the leisure to take that time for a family walk, and the destination of the comfort and plenty of the golden castle have not materialized in our lives yet. They live only in our dreams, at this point. But then again, at one point, that happy family of three was only a faint and distant dream too. If that part of the card came true, perhaps the castle will, too.
And that is why my article is entitled "Ten of Pentacles". |
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Re: Ten of Pentacles by daria_4 (-) on Sep 15, 2003 - 06:53 PM (User info | Send a Message) | Wow, I had no idea there would be quite that much to it. Knowing that now, and reading your article again, I find that nothing huge (like the general tone) changes, but there is a slight difference... as a reader, I feel that much more drawn in to the story and more concerned with the characters' fate than I was the first time around (not that I didn't care at all, but now I do moreso). I wish you the best of luck in attaining your dream, and thank you for the reminder to remember my own. |
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Ten of Golds by Arthegarn on Sep 16, 2003 - 01:48 AM (User info | Send a Message) | Just my two pesetas about the subject.
Schizo, bet you use the Waite deck? I don't know about the Psycho Slut's though... Anyway, I wonder how did that woman read cards exactly. The 10 of pentacles (called the 10 of Golds in Spain, since the original Tarot decks is about coins) has almost nothing to do with family, at least not in what I would call "Scholastic" interpretations.
Being 10 the number of the cycle (something even the Major Arcanes reflect, unless I am mistaken in the Alexandria deck the Wheel of Fortune is actually called The Cycle) the 10 of pentacles has, partially of course, a meaning of moving and returning wealth. That can be interpreted, and it has, as wealth moving from one generation to the next, but always staying inside the family; also as the investment a parwent makes in his children that will later care from him in ancianity, but little more about family issues. If you ask me, she drew that ten of pentacles upside down time and again.
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Re: Ten of Golds by Schizo (Aranea@spidersdance.com) on Sep 16, 2003 - 02:58 AM (User info | Send a Message) http://http:// | The psycho-slut learned the tarot from her mother, who learned it from a professional card-reading neighbor. Which of course, doesn't explain the ridiculous panic over the Death card, which any reader worth their salt knows rarely means physical death.
Her deck is called The Witches Tarot, and is a rather modernized deck. I compared the little booklet of interpretations that came along with it, with the meanings in my tarot book I bought a year or two ago, and found vast differences. I kind of think that she doesn't stick so carefully to the traditional meanings, and goes more on intuition, and what the picture seems to say to her. I tend to mix the two; to look up the meanings of card and position, and then just let my intuition fly, even if I end up with a slightly different twist than the book told me.
I think that the traditional meaning of a card is very powerful and valid, but that occasionally, under certain circumstances, a card takes on a new meaning of its own, solely for the people the reading was for. I think that is what happened in this case - that the card took a departure from its usual meaning, and depicted a family that did not yet exist, in a situation that still does not exist.
It could also be that the card foretells the beginning of a wealth that can be passed through generations. I mean, all those legendary rich families had to start somewhere, with someone making a bundle and passing it down. That could be an interesting insight towards the type of situation that we could be heading for.
Maybe it's all just wishful thinking, but really, if any of our plans for getting out of these dead-end jobs take wing, we could potentially start making some real money. I'm studying for my real estate license (when I can find the time and energy), and when that happens, I ought to be making enough money to buy an investment property, and eventually several. With a little luck and hard work, we could end up with enough to pass on.
Anyway, it's a dream. Something to aim for, and I find the card an inspiration, even if I'm departing from tradition in my interpretation. I really believe in that future. And if it never comes true, at least I tried. At least I kept hope. |
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Re: Ten of Golds by chameleon on Sep 16, 2003 - 04:46 PM (User info | Send a Message) http:// | Thank you Schizo for the clarification. It makes a lot more sense now. I wish my runes were like the tarot, but alas, they are only runes and VERY open to interpretation.
Dreams are why we desire to live right? And hope is what keeps us believing in those dreams. My prayers are with you, whether you want them or not. I'm sure it will all work out in time, most definitely for the better. |
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Re: Ten of Pentacles
by Arthegarn on Sep 14, 2003 - 03:33 AM
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That's a life. That's a faith
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Re: Ten of Pentacles
by Psychopixi (psyche.at.psychopixi.dot.com)
on Sep 14, 2003 - 03:30 PM
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Wow, this actually got tears in my eyes - not from sadness or happiness, but just from the feeling in it! Thanks for sharing it.
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Re: Ten of Pentacles
by daria_4 (-)
on Sep 15, 2003 - 05:52 PM
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Like one of the other posters, I'm a little curious about what the Ten of Pentacles entails, as I am not very familiar with the Tarot.
I like the way you wrote this. It flowed very well, which was an interesting contrast to the way the "daily grind" usually goes for people. (I hope that made sense.) Looking back on some of my past, I tend to think that some things are definitely more valuable to you when you struggle for them; at least on a personal level, as "valuable" can be quite subjective. In the article, you wrote that perhaps that is the case... if you don't mind my asking, do you find that your experience has enforced that idea at all? Or even the opposite?
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Re: Ten of Pentacles by Schizo (Aranea@spidersdance.com) on Sep 15, 2003 - 06:12 PM (User info | Send a Message) http://http:// | In answer to your question, I would say both yes and no. I'll use the example of quality time with my boyfriend. The struggle has made each five minutes we can grasp together that much more valuable. It makes us appreciate the little things. But then again, the struggle has exhausted us to the point that, during those five minutes, we tend to waste it falling asleep on each other, which kind of defeats the purpose of quality time.
So I would say, the struggle helps to a point, but after a while, the struggle needs to end (at least temporarily) to allow room for full enjoyment of the thing you are struggling for. It's a balance that can be hard to acheive in a situation like mine.
Ideally, what you want is a finite struggle to a point of resolution, at which point you deeply enjoy the thing you were struggling for. And when stagnation and apathy starts to set in, you find yourself something else to struggle for.
Unfortunately, I seem to be in an enforced struggle at the moment, and the resolution seems to be still some ways away. Sometimes I feel like a starving traveller who, when he finds food, finds himself too tired to eat. But not always. And it's those times, when I am hungry, and eat my little, plain crust of bread, that I find more happiness than some overfed, obese Louis XV type, gorging on roasted peacock and exotic fruits, only to vomit it up and stuff my gullet again.
So I guess the moral of my story is, when in a situation like this, conserve energy when you can, enjoy yourself when you can, and hold on to your dreams and never let go. Never stop fighting for your dreams. Because if you lose your dreams, you may as well lie down and die. |
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