It's spring in the mountains. This morning I woke to a big dark wind, heavy clouds, robins singing their heads off. It love this dark spring weather - it feels swollen or pregnant or something, just waiting to burst. Maybe it's looking up the mountains and seeing all the snow that's going to come roaring down the creeks soon enough.
Many years ago, in the throes of a huge life decision, I stayed up all night and just as it was beginning to be light I walked down to the shore of lake Ontario. In those days the lake still froze between the shore and the big offshore islands - you could drive a car on it in mid-winter. It was still frozen that March morning when I walked out on the pier, gathering my resolution for the big things I'd decided to do. Then one of those huge spring winds came roaring over the lake, as loud as a train. Suddenly the ice began to break. Terrific noise. Chunks of ice as big as cars tossed in the air, falling back, breaking more ice. Gulls going crazy. An explosion of spring as the lake broke out of its winter prison.
I find myself longing for something like that, huge, cathartic, splendid, to break up the walls of my life right now and set me free. I want to fly a kite in this huge wind and cut the kite string and let it go. I want to jump on a train to anywhere. Go back to China and see my friends.
I do none of these things. I pick up my cards and shuffle and draw the Eight of Pentacles. Step by step. Stone by stone. This is not a card of smashing barriers and leaping out. It's a card of slow patient organized building, balancing resources, organizing viable budgets and living with them, tidying and lining things up. I can do this, but this morning it feels like building a prison to house me, stone by stone, and I am asking with all my heart for some other card, some other avenue to open, for spring to blow my house down.
Maybe I just need some exercise.