Posts tagged ‘Flannel Flower’

8 Wands and Flannel Flower

From the Robin Wood Tarot

From the Robin Wood Tarot

Flannel FlowerThe last week before Jason arrives, not as my friend or lover, but as my intended husband, my soul partner.

Is it any wonder that the stalled energy of the reversed 8 Wands should dominate?

The minutes are crawling toward the appointed hour but thankfully we have the spirit of playfulness and intimacy of Flannel Flower to see us through.

But the phone bills are going to be truly frightening.


9 Wands and Flannel Flower

From the Robin Wood Tarot

From the Robin Wood Tarot

TFlannel Flowerhe 9 Wands is the card of the final challenge, of getting your breath back before going out for the last fight.

Last? Because you know you’ve not the strength to go further.

But its ruler is the Hermit and therefore there’s a real possibility that the looming last stand is an internal one. And maybe it’s about learning how to live beyond the battle.

After living in a state of combat readiness for any prolonged period, peace can be the biggest challenge of all.

And that’s what this lovely first week of my summer holiday with Jason has been about – adjusting to the peace.

With England-like weather (and that’s not a good thing) for most of it and a little difficulty on Kate’s part in coping with Jason’s presence, it took until Friday before I took that deep breath and felt like I was on holiday.

But if it’s taken a wee while to come to terms with the peace, Flannel Flower has been a playful and joyful remedy to see me through.

And one of its primary outcomes is an ease in the expression and enjoyment of intimacy. Very apt, given my present circumstances!

King of Pentacles and Flannel Flower

From the Robin Wood Tarot

I have not said much in this journal about my continuing inner work, unless there has been a direct relation with the week’s cards.But this week has been a big one, as I finally was able to overcome a childhood horror and… pick up a guitar.

Don’t laugh too hard – but feel free to joke that the horror is all in the listening – at my own particular emotional trauma. And don’t think I’m not conscious that when it comes to deep ugly childhood stuff, my story is very much at the lighter end of the scale.

I was a shy kid who much preferred a quiet corner and a book to any prospect of adult attention. So it was a bit unfortunate when I was about 10 that my mother discovered I could sing.

My relationship with my mother was always difficult but at that point it turned nightmarish. Adults could not gather in groups of two or more without my pushy mother hauling me out of my corner and calling for a song.

I became quite the expert in reading the subtle signs of polite boredom on people’s faces as my mother insisted and cajoled and demanded just one more song.

Inevitably my father would intervene and they would end up fighting over whether or not I actually wanted to be standing there singing another bloody song. I learned soon enough to just sing a couple of quick songs and run, there was no other way.

It was a torment for a shy kid who wasn’t looking for a spotlight.

When I was about 12 I was given a guitar by one of my parents’ friends after I sang at his wedding.

The joy and excitement of the gift vanished very quickly – as soon as I realised just how much worse it would be if I could play a guitar as well. I put it away and sold it at 17 so I could buy a suitcase and make my escape.

I’ve never stopped singing but, from that day to this, I’ve sung alone. My mother’s enduring gift to me – a dash of poison to flavour the things I love most.

So this week, feeling like a trespasser, I signed up for guitar lessons and went looking for an instrument.

I found a secondhand Spanish guitar at a silly price and struggled for days to simply be able to strum the thing and make a noise – any noise. I couldn’t seem to overcome the oppressive feeling that I had no right to touch it, no right at all.

All the pain and hurt of my troubled relationship with my mother seemed to be concentrated in my nervous fingertips as I struggled to just make a sound with the thing, any sound at all.

It’s taken a week of turmoil but here, at last, for the first time in my life I’m discovering the joy of singing with a companion, my beautiful Spanish guitar that even in my clumsy hands performs a sweet duet with my soul.

I will never be alone again.

My mother taught me well when she showed me that something I loved could be twisted and made hateful if I revealed it carelessly. Best to keep these things hidden.

A lifetime of being utterly unable to articulate what I want has ensued, but I begin anew today.

Flannel Flower is for the ease of intimacy and enjoyment of sensual touch.

The King of Pentacles enjoys his abundance because he chose it, worked for it and he cherishes his heart’s desire.

And so do I. My fingers ache so sweetly and my world is transformed.

King of Cups and Flannel Flower

From the Robin Wood deck

The King of Cups is not afraid to follow his heart and, unexpectedly, I’ll be following mine when I get on that plane next month. I’ve been thinking a lot about Jason (duh!), and what I want to say to him when I see him. I want to tell him just how much he means to me, but at the same time it seems so pointless. Why tell him how I love him when we simply cannot be together?

Still, let’s pause a moment and reflect how a dutiful trip to the UK so that I could deliver Kate to her dad for Christmas has suddenly turned in to an exciting romantic holiday.

It will be wonderful and playful little Flannel Flower says lighten up and have some fun. Romance doesn’t have to be tragic and whatever happens, however it ends, this man’s worth a risk or two.

Today’s pair also tells me that if the King of Cups is comfortable with his emotions, Flannel Flower helps him to be comfortable with their physical expression.  I will go to the UK, I will have a wonderful time with my perfect guy and then I’ll come home and take it from there.  

And yes, I have also noticed that the King of Cups speaks this time to me of Jason, rather than one of those pesky Water signs who give me so much grief. But Jason is much in my mind – and my heart – of late.