From the Robin Wood Tarot

If the Page of Cups is Cupid, bringing the promise of new, romantic love, Reversed he is the moody, sulky child who refuses to be cheered by anything.

Well, I started the day thinking that description applied to Simon. His friendship has been a real treasure to me but lately has felt more like an intrusion. I’ve been irritated by the way Simon and the archery club seem to be taking over all my spare time with problems and conflicts when all I really want to do is… what, exactly?

Which is about the moment I realised it was actually more apt for myself.

What do I want to do? I want to be left alone to mourn and to pity myself in my mourning. I want to be a moody, sulky child who refuses to be cheered by anything.

Of course, in all my mooning and crying over Jason, I have also quite deliberately avoided consolation, even to the point of abandoning my meditation practice.

Weeping and wailing in my metaphorical attic does not really keep the relationship alive, does not really prove my devotion and certainly does nothing to help me achieve my heart’s desire.

There is another, deeper, level to my misery which is perfectly addressed by Southern Cross – the ‘victim’ essence.

That is the question, asked first that night in England and so often in the days since, the unbearable, heart-breaking question that brings the tears every time without fail:

Why does everyone I love have to be so very far away?

Yesterday’s Judgment card told me there’s healing at the end of this. But I think it was also telling me I must go through these flames of grief before I can get there.

Today’s Page of Cups has shown me that the grief for my doomed relationship with Jason, my perfect, perfect guy, is part of a bigger grief and it’s time to come to terms with the whole thing.

Why DOES everyone I love have to be so very far away? My Grandma, who practically raised me for the first five years of my life and then left me, so that I only saw her again a bare handful of times. My beloved and glamorous Aunty Mona, who left a year later, and I’ve never seen her since. My sister, who died. My daughter, who lives on the other side of the world. My father, currently dying – fast or slow I don’t know, but dying – in far off California. And more, so many more, and finally Jason. Ten thousand miles away and at the pinnacle of his career. There is no hope here, as there has been no hope so many times before.

Well, that does sound a lot like the ‘poor me’ mentality that characterises the negative aspect of Southern Cross. So what can I learn from its positive attributes?

Southern Cross helps us realise that we may not be in control of everything that happens to us in life, but we can choose how we respond. Do I want to respond like a sulky child or do I want to look for the positives and make the best of my situation? It’s a hard lesson when you’re applying it to a lifetime’s worth of grief and loss. So I’d better start learning how to accept it, without tears.