Writing

Arcane III: The Empress (final installment)

XIII

For me, Empress is an archetype full of anguish and defeat. She, overwhelmingly fecund, forms the mortar and grit that holds empires attentive to the ways of culture, lineage, and heritage. She is the connection between ages. Her fullness resides in the realization of place in personal life and civilization’s cycles.  If I were to bitch about taking the Empress’ symbolism to heart, I would call her a baby factory between calling my name and articulating whispers of being a wanton witch. For me, Empress’ definition and symbolism are excavated, explained, countered, and envied with every gaze into the card. Probing beneath my shadow self, I allow the accusations to bubble out of my personality and froth over. For now, I know her as the seduction to becoming a prostitute. The call is lashing out at the women I have heard and seen fall from grace over the last nine years. They take part in forming the archetypes of my daily life. Through aspects of the tarot I presumed I would understand them better. So be it they become the face of the Goddess and I slip into a mental eon long gone to know where I live. Painters Egon Shiele and Gustave Klimt had the same bent. Both elevated the mundane and hidden to a level of exquisite beauty and worship. Like them, I do not have far to go to find a muse and model for my work. What little I could pay for services may not suit for attractive work. The other side of appeal may not guarantee them a place in eternity. A prostitute sitting for Empress comments a reality in social circles that deserves careful probing.

Despite my inferences, I never see Empress as demented or psychotic like some of the women these years have become. It may be a matter of post traumatic stress disorder following through her fertile cycle as well as eventual post partum depression. What I presume then is that the pregnancy must be a constant high over nine months. In my mind’s prejudice, the women who embody Empress are always clean and watchful. Of street currency, the women I hear of stay dirty and covered in grime sometimes for the full term. Correcting my prejudice with reality, smoking, drinking, and addiction does not prevent other women from sitting high on the cushioned devan to be quickly photographed into family history. I must let the spiritual lesson in the window separate the chaff from the seed. Otherwise, why do I seek Empress beyond immediate reaction? I am resolved that she is a guidepost for all females. There are certain marks of the aging feminine that cannot be ignored. By looking over the card I see a handful of guise of the Goddess. With deeper contemplation I am a hostage of my own maturity. There is more to understand of her immediate presence.  I feel I am missing a core part of her mystery and am backing down angry for another night. The real fear is in missing another point of my life’s passage in the feminine. I once thought there was no guidebook. This is life, do as you will I seemed to practice. Over the last thirteen years, I know I am wrong. Without a discussion of gender roles and types, I find my way through old literature and being quiet around the wagging tongues of old women. I found something in adjusting to classic roles. I seem reticent to attempt the myth of the super black woman. I am learning that I do not have to have it all. I fall not into submission, but into a stillness and quiet that speaks stoic to the trees and wind. Contrary to this, Empress seems gregarious and sociable. Another turn of the car and I am rejected again. I do not care why I will not walk away from her. All I know is that I cannot give up just yet. Something is about to break again in my subconscious and I want to be fully attentive to any change in my reality. I am learning through confrontation. I refuse to lose another lesson again.

XIV.

I am in the way station for another night wondering if hell will take over come nightfall. It is the hard questions that I need let stew on paper before I attempt to answer even one. A few days ago I decided to commit to the psychological work with the tarot. It is likely this journey will not end even after I am finished writing. Working the tarot as a supplement to personal symbols will enrich my work with untold depth.

The first questions lead in multiple directions: What are the characteristics of the shadow part of the Empress? What is her countenance? What is her posture?  What can I expect of myself for wanting a child between dosages of medication for twenty years? Is my selfishness appropriately hidden?  Will I waver between wanting a career and/or family through to my twilight years? What will a child do to my calling? Sacrifice does not come just in terms of time, but also in relinquishing power, position, and knowledge. What about a husband? Promises to marriage make child rearing easier. I have had few real prospects, if any at all. This keeping in mind that one night stands are no case to build a marriage on. I muse at night underneath cold cotton sheets that I sustain my drive by resigning to being a lady in waiting for another year. No doubt it would be forced marriage of convenience. The children would be his and I would be a simple incubator. Being a child of two divorces, how can I believe that love exists? If I wed I am settled that adoption, in all turns of choice, seems best. Still, I fear sound judgments may not be had on my part. Providing stability and consistency is an environment I strive to provide for myself. If I can accomplish it for myself maybe I can maintain that presence for three.

The night is about to claim my tired limbs and writing. Before I put the pen down, I have to acknowledge that my introspection thus far lends mostly to the cold temperatures of the mind. Instead of all these intellectual arguments, where do my emotional arguments lead? What makes my case with the Empress singular in bridging my soul through to her mysteries? Without resorting to a dictionary of symbols and the staid definitions of the Major Arcana, I need know what agrees with me concerning image, conflict, and responsibility of the Empress? Also, what makes my case with her particular to my growth and understanding of womanhood? In the least, I can count on her to mean a fruition of hard labor. Or is she simply an incubator for notions? I see her as the gateway of maturity. She is a symbol in part of walking out of the innocence of maiden’s tradition aware to the tools of adulthood by way of what the body dictates. This graduation into the next phase of the feminine is an achievement of intellect and emotion honed beyond the simple use of skill.

Empress can be given praise, but is she ready for the work? The question can be answered in light of those adults who are caught in the glamour of pregnancy. The occasion reflects it as special time and high for a woman.  For those with a selfish concern, I wonder what happens after the baby is born and the shine wears off? In that requirement to work, Empress sits at the edge of being trained and charged with responsibility.  The robes and crown speak for themselves but the shield tells more of once being a student.  The shield is the heart and a mark of the feminine celebrating the moment of recognition of womanhood. A badge or medicine shield reveals Empress coming full term to being recognized as woman. The shield reflects self-control and appreciation of womanly arts and sciences. The shield celebrates the obligations and rights of womanhood as an aware participant in self-knowledge and practice.  Empress is one who has born before and knows what to expect. She knows the wisdom of cycles. As one who wields the aegis, lessons in the feminine are now at her command for personal use as she is embraced as a symbol fully vested in the ways of feminine wisdom. One would think that this includes the dark faces of the Goddess as well. In the rites of the Empress, this exists, but it is shunned and not spoken. It hides in suggestion when coupled with other tarot cards.

My conclusion is not meant to attack the positive light filled and plain lessons of the joys of aging. Even I have learned the shallows, but know the deeper feminine resides in the dark as well as the light. Compared to the calm that settles in the dark after wrestling with the angel, it is the child or creation that comes full term in the Empress that needs nurturing to full maturity. These creations are not lost to the dogs or abandoned away from the cemetery. What lives may not stay with great mother, but it will have a fighting chance to abide in health, ethics, and moral guidance.

XIV.

Empress enthroned is a temporary state. We do not see the trial and agony that precedes the joy of good news. It is a wonder that the pain that follows is as much an old wives tale warning the newly wed. Empress presents the obligations of a copulated marriage. She knows love just as well as independence. Taking poise on the divan, she is a symbol of accumulated knowledge practiced over time and trial. As a result, she sits in her power recognized and loved.  The Empress also rules in water’s fashion. Warmth and harvest time exudes and wells in her gaze.  This tarot window is a snapshot of ignorance reflecting bliss ensnared and captured. I can only wonder if the emotional state that follows after this isolated moment is one of psychosis.

Standing in the aisle between the book stacks, on the second floor, I began rummaging the row as usual. I already pulled items on Celtic mythology and legends from India. Every book title I browsed after that became a topic of extreme interest. I was sure to have inspiration for clay works by evening light. What resulted from the readings on Aboriginal art, legend, and culture was a series of vessels I intended to hold a single human breath. I was positive that I could capture an air of spirit, versus designing a vessel to hold flame.

From Empress I learned the hinge pin of being a creator is to animate. Somewhere before that imbuement is culling the creation to shape and form. Just like the potter, Empress calls to work an incubator to mature life until it can perform on its own. Based on Empress’ demeanor, I have one question. What are some of the obligations of a Creator archetype? For me, I know the act of creation must be born out of responsible action. What is created is made with intention and purpose. Lastly, there is an anticipated place for the creation to belong, reside, and grow in relevance to its environment. Another series of questions begins with whether responsibility to the created ever ends? Could the creator/artist ever be a Deist in perception and action? In this manner the created is formed and left alone to graduate into independence instead of fostering a parasitic co-dependence.

With those things said, I wonder if I will be able to let go of what I make. When I die, if probate does not latch hold to my former property, will the end of my works come in the form of a garbage truck? The logical conclusion resides in continually finding place for my creations even after death. I hate to mention it, but right now letting go is a personal condition of commerce. I think about letting go of the books, papers, paintings, quilts, and effects. I never seem to fully realize they are gone even after reviewing the sales slip for taxes at the end of the year. In graduate school, I learned a story about Jasper Johns. He raised the fact that he could not let go a painting to a level of vandalism. At parties thrown by collectors he was known to bring paint brush and fresh oils to work in a corridor where the painting was displayed. He could not let go. Rampant thoughts must have flooded John’s mind: “It’s not done, this needs to be corrected”, “I used the wrong color”, and “This belongs here, not there.” Time passes after finishing a handful of works and I go gray over making changes. Should I nurture and tend to the pieces more? Parenting never ends. In another instance, Dad and Mom tell me to get my shit together one way or another. Pursue my dreams but understand they will not always be here. Both follow with a penetrating look and quip, “You know you will always be my baby no matter what you do”. I don’t argue anymore. I used to angle around the reality of the statement trying to show independence followed by respect. Now I stifle comments that, “I’m grown! Whaddaya mean I’m still your baby?!!” My dignity and endurance fall, realizing that to them I have not yet reached a level of maturity that they see as one of an adult. Or maybe it is just a matter of sensitivity to the tender chubby cheeks of a two month old that I have retained into my forties.

We cry when they are gone. Mother told me of the days she would cry for her mother’s presence and wisdom. She had no one else to trust. The vacuum had not sealed of her mother’s musing presence for over thirty years. At that time, her soul needed sun, water, and wind every day. Despite nurturing through the years immediately after her mother’s death, the stem fell and the root of grandma’s creation almost finished rotting out. Tending to my mother’s needs from the day I knew she was still hurt, was a weak suggestion of the inexperienced feminine. Mother needed mentoring born of ages closer to being bent over with a polished cane. I do not know how it resolved itself, but thinking through what Grandma would have done in the same situation may have caused responsibility to parent through the veil.

XV.

From the artistic angle, Empress is a stage in the creator archetype. To me the compliment to her abilities is a factor of time. She is an incubator and not so much a mother or caretaker. She is pure potential. To me it is a clinical observation; she is a pregnant woman at the height of womanhood’s mental and physical fruits. In my anger, I reject her. If not for knowing that t here is no assertion in a physical reflection, then for knowing her prime maintains while mine is gone. First, I have not dealt with the issue of race and this card as I fear resurrecting shadows of guilt, fear, and toxic shame irrelative to tarot history. Settling into my senses, when I read I look past cultural prejudice and use of the cards.  I take into account my immediate reactions to text and image. Some days I deeply want to understand the tarot card I choose, so I have to let the unconscious bridge old hurts with new concepts no matter the pain. In this way I see reading the cards as a game but also a psychological tool to manage the self from the core. When studying the arcane, I cannot stop the lessons of discernment because of perceptual barriers. Putting subsequent revelations from the tarot in their proper perspective is an art to elevate to mastery. I well in old arguments right now and seek clarity in understanding Empress regardless of the card’s design and implications.

XVI

While she rules from her cushioned roost I fear a gut wrenching admission that I have wasted my last twenty years. I veered from the norm. Sometimes I lay in the night desperate to understand where I have gone? What do I still long for as a female? Have I rejected fundamental knowledge of my sex? Are there any traditions left to me to participate and feel a member of the clan of woman?

XVII

I sat up in bed, turned the switch, and waited for the light. She’s there, dangling on the wall clipped together in a small stack, Empress from three different decks. She has been hanging there for the last five months. I cannot look right now. I am too angry – at her and myself. How could I have missed it? The obvious source of confusion is in what the card implicates, not just a fascination about a figure wrapped in finely decorated linen. My focus is on the shield and aegis. While browsing a book on tarot definitions, I conclude from the lengthy entry that the sign is a call into women’s health. Empress points to the biggest ill of the last century wrapped in Roe vs. Wade and our pervading collective ignorance of our own bodies. Even from my last graduation, my fear into the 21^st century has the Devil destroying our hopes by playing our bodies against our minds.

Personally speaking, I came to carnal knowledge through grade school friends. The slang from back then escapes me, but the code among kids became familiar to me as a bond between friends. They confessed to my ears what they could not share with brother, sister, cousin, father, or mother. Since young, this code of trust and possessing a relative ignorance of human sexuality has shielded and removed me from a persistent path of vipers.  On one occasion, I was bribed for sex by an older “cousin” in his bedroom. The situation left me open for a life change if I did not immediately retreat to join adults downstairs. “I’ll give you this purse if you’ll have sex with me,” he attempted to persuade. After being molested by a different relative, I began to defeat growth of self-esteem by falling into a pattern of yielding when asked for sex acts. No matter how infrequent the request, it took a long emotional trial to realize that I was not a slut. What I became was something lonely and emotionally programmed. Desperate for attention may have left me that day with child by incest. Though I am sure someone would point out that just because those involved where black and called themselves brother, does not mean the tempter was a blood relation. Quibbling the understanding would not relieve me of the damage short and long term. For the time after, constructing personal boundaries made for the second line of defense. The first was to yield to a personalized verbal and psychological dismantling.

So, dear Empress, this other door through which I have passed reveals you a discipline, law, and a counselor. Because of this, I have completely changed from a literal interpretation of you to a hidden concept of perpetually renewed energies. Now I can sit. I can actually sit comfortably now with her sight and influence. Now, before Hecate cackles out my state of bearing without the yoke of motherhood, be reassured that Empress calls to order the discerning shadow side of femininity as well. I may finally see myself and what lessons remain may come through the face of another arcane. It is strange and funny how the queen of swords looms before my eyes again as I resolve a close to The Empress. I said nothing before, but the queen was apparent as I started writing about the Empress from the beginning. In my close, she returns. It must be a portent that I have intellectually reasoned the mark. Living through the Empress physically will have me intrinsically know this Arcane through a fulfillment of task. As a result, the trials of womanhood, gender, and femininity may not escape me again. I am committed to going through this mystery where ever she leads. Personal rites of sanity and age demand recording for now and the healing that comes after.

©N.A. Jones      2017       All Right’s Reserved