divination

LENORMAND IN EXISTENTIAL-LAND

ONE

Here I am upon a horse
Why? Last time I rode at 16
He tried to bite me
Thirsty
But here I am a RIDER
No doubt a lost outsider

TWO

All I remember is blackness
Nothing, not a thing
Until a spark of light
In the night
Lit and I was back
In a dewy field of CLOVER
Trying to cross over

THREE

Water now before me
An ancient sailing SHIP
Empty like the Flying Dutchman
Tossing upon waves
On a mysterious trip

FOUR

Climbing a jetty on shore
A stable HOUSE
With woman and spouse
But I was invisible to them

FIVE

And now walking alone
Under an ancient TREE
Far from sounds of the sea
I convinced myself all would be clear
If I remained patient

SIX

Above were stormy CLOUDS
Mirroring my confusion
Scanning for people on the horizon
But nothing
No riders, walkers, drivers, crowds

SEVEN

Ah, but here a SNAKE
Curled around the bark
No fancy patterns
Maybe venomless
Deceit or wisdom
Mixed message made my head ache

EIGHT

Spying a box in the distance
I moved along the path
Sitting above the dirt
A plain pine wood COFFIN
But no one saying farewell
No mourners for the blow to soften

NINE

Where am I? I cried out
Then spotted a field of flowers
Gathered up a colorful BOUQUET
Returned along the pathway
And placed it on the box for hope

TEN

Oh, but here a hooded figure
Staring off into the sky with a SCYTHE
He didn’t look very blythe
He didn’t look at all
No eyes gleaming, focusing
More like a scarecrow
Scary, to me, though

ELEVEN

Around his other shoulder
Was wrapped a WHIP
A symbol of life’s strip
From the landscape of repetition
Happening over and over

TWELVE

So I changed direction
Walking toward the north
In a moment of clairvoyance
I knew I must move
The song of a BIRD
Openly conferred
This truth to me

THIRTEEN

Out of nowhere suddenly apppeared
An out-of-place apparition
A delightful CHILD
In all innocence, smiled
And believed the future would be revealed

FOURTEEN

I watched as she tumbled with a FOX
The sun tilting to the spring equinox
No worry, at present, about intrigue
All was right with this strange world
Since I didn’t seem to be visible

FIFTEEN

I moved along to a cave with a BEAR
Experiencing a fearful flare
Yet the power and might of
This strong personality
Continued to feel lucky

SIXTEEN

Not long after, the sky darkened
But a lovely guide, a huge STAR
Silently promised me clarity
Resonating in my reservoir
Of strength and hope and reality

SEVENTEEN

Allowing myself a dreamless sleep
I awoke in daylight once again
Continuing a journey of reversal
Back to the south
As the beak of a STORK
Pointed the way
And come what may
I’d follow

EIGHTEEN

Before long I noticed a DOG
Seemingly following me
But unaware as dogs never are
Yet he barked if I went the wrong way
And I obeyed
This trusted travelogue

NINETEEN

As all my silent companions did
He disappeared and I wandered
Alone and dispirited
There stood a TOWER
Of loneliness but power
And I stood outside the open door

TWENTY

Shockingly
The room held a GARDEN
With many people socializing
I moved toward them
Begging their pardon
Asking where we were
But as before
I remained unheard

TWENTY-ONE

Frustrated I moved outside
Heading toward a MOUNTAIN
Hoping to overcome the obstacle
This unsolvable problem
Pausing at a fountain
To wet my weary feet

TWENTY-TWO

I arrived at a CROSSROADS
Not sure which way to wander
A feeling of being turned around
As if right was left
Instead of the antipodes

TWENTY-THREE

Scurrying around were tiny MICE
Another sign of my distress
Closing my eyes I walked quickly away
Searching for someone, anyone
Who could give me sorely needed advice

TWENTY-FOUR

Suddenly I saw an indentation
In the grass I tiredly walked through
I was sure it was shaped like a HEART
A loving piece of art
A sign that love was alive
Somewhere in this terrible world
I couldn’t contrive

TWENTY-FIVE

In the center was a tuffet with two RINGS
Symbol of commitment and partnership
Music from my guitar and other strings
Transported me to an iconic room
Once again inside

TWENTY-SIX

Of course it was a library and
I chose a large leather-bound BOOK
Where else could I find the knowledge
A much needed map that was a hook
To hang my vulnerable mind
While I learned more of my mystery

TWENTY-SEVEN

Inside the cover was a LETTER
Addressed to me
At least I thought
It was my name from another time and place
But the words were unfamiliar
Dancing upon the page
So I could not figure them out
And as I focused they did not seem better

TWENTY-EIGHT

There behind a desk stood a MAN
Busy with a quill and pen
Scratching foreign words upon
A parchment
Not seeing me
Leaving me
Without a plan

TWENTY-NINE

Near a shelf of books was a WOMAN
She also did not see or hear
Reading a manuscript
In one hand
Tapping a lacy fan
In the other
To some silent rhythm
Only she could bear

THIRTY

I’m dead! I’m dead! I said
And tore out the door
Plucking a LILY
Feeling immature
And incredibly silly
But not knowing what all this could be

THIRTY-ONE

I gazed at the SUN
Not caring if it blinded me
Feeling as if hit by a stun gun
Feeling the heat
Feeling the chill
Feeling the absence of all

THIRTY-TWO

Time passed and soon
I was staring at the MOON
Its silvery gaze
Mirroring mine
But keeping the secret
Of my loss

THIRTY-THREE

Hearing a clink
Bent down to see a KEY
Carved from silver filligree
I could hear its vibration
Saying, “Pick me…”
So I did

THIRTY-FOUR

I saw a pond
With a golden FISH
Worried about this business
I crazily made a wish
To meet someone to help me

THIRTY-FIVE

All I needed was an ANCHOR
I thought with rancor
To bring me stability
On this journey

THIRTY-SIX

So then I realized it was fate
As appeared a karmic CROSS
And suddenly felt the loss
Of this heavy albatross
Lifted from my life
And then I knew
Whatever I would do
Made no difference at all…

(c) Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Lenormand oracle decks

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HAIKU (BUTTON BOX SORTILEGE)

Trinkets collected
Tactile and vibrational
Replacing tarot

Button box contents
Imbued with spiritual thoughts
Provide sound guidance

A guitar-shaped spoon
Conveyance of Nature’s gifts
Security roots

Earth is survival
Balance food and drink cravings
Healthful harmony

Smothered emotions
Denial not always wise
Concede pain and heal

Water perceives pain
Let the tide carry it out
And begin anew

All birds rule the sky
Drifting feathers are symbols
To rise above fear

Air is mindful life
Thought a logical process
Remember to soar

A John Lennon coin
Perfectionist musician
His image says, “Do!”

Fire is spirit
Music bridges body-soul
Practice makes perfect

After decades of reading cards, interpreting tea leaves and coffee grounds, plotting
astrological charts, numerological studies, elemental skrying, and welcoming in the
new century by using an internet random number generator to receive guidance in this sometimes-overwhelming life, I craved a different way to divine. So I combined my favorite pastime, looking and touching and dreaming over the 4-dimensional
contents of my button box that, of course, contains more than buttons. I don’t
wear anything with buttons anyway. Just slide shirts or tunics over my head and
ready for the day. So here’s what I do: close my eyes and whatever I touch first
is brought to light. I hold it think about it, imbue it with my physical and
spiritual body shell. Depending on how complicated the question is, or the answer
I require, I may continue to choose four (one for each element) or ten (like a
beginner’s tarot reading) or whatever I have time for. This is what I found,
to share with you, via haiku.

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: My button box

 

CROW TAROT DECK

What a lovely and informative reading! I’ve been so impressed with the card images
but also with the daily readings, and my own personal one, learning so much already.  Although tarot seems to be a cut and dried mass of symbols, we all interpret them a bit different, based on surrounding cards but also in an intuitive sense. Being
part Romani, I learned to read cards at an early age, using my own Major Arcana
symbols that my Gran called the Drom Ek Romani (Way of ONE Gypsy) but I prefer using a full tarot deck for important readings. So although I love-hate crows, this is
obviously the deck for me! I am looking forward to receiving mine!

Here are the links:

https://www.facebook.com/crowtarotdeck Facebook link

https://crowtarotshop.com/ Indiegogo link

 

(c) 2018 All images copyrighted MJones, Crow Tarot

CURSE OF THE HANGED MAN

So many explanations about
The Hanged Man of the Tarot
Most depicted with left leg
Twisted into a cross
Cross under a cross
The home of martyred gods
Of pecked-out-eye gods
Absorbing the secret of life
An Odin, a Jesus, and
Some might say
A John Lennon
Wood of the cross
Wood of the tree
Tree of Life
Tree of Knowledge
Root of the Curse
Visited on me
Passed down through family
Mark of the maternal line
Great Gran, Gran, Mom
Me, my son
Born misshapen left leg
The Curse, Gran said
Good and bad
The healer’s mark
Telling us to do no harm
But it just accompanies
The dreaded curse
No one listens
No one cares
No one loves
How to heal
Those who steal
Our reputation
Our confused social damnation
Leg now unswerving in youth
Remaining resolutely strong in maturity
Helping us to forget
Our notoriety
Seen only by others
Never ourselves
What did we do?
Origin remains a mystery
Perhaps fog and rain
Disoriented the brain
Some well-meaning healing
Backfired
Triggering hateful words
Directed to the drabarni
And her progeny
Throughout time?
Curses return, says Gran
We must never curse anyone
But can we end its power, I ask
Gran turns away
Bathed by the sun
Accept your life, every day
Managing to age
Left leg begins to distort
As fragile bones contort
And once again
We are back on the tree
Upside down
Wondering
What did I learn
And why me…

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Some Hanged Man cards

SPIRITS AND SENIOR PROMS

 

(Humor lightens fearful actions)

 

Time to start communing

With the spirits

Family, friends

I’m not a Ouija person

It lied to me decades ago

Although

My friend really did

Meet and marry a Louis

But I never met Bruce

The New York lawyer

Did go to my senior prom

With a New Yorker

We fought

He wanted me to stop

Hanging at coffee houses

Screaming about war

And most of all

He hated my super-size

Peace earrings

Anyway

You know I’m getting old

Can’t seem to tell a succinct story

This is a poem

About Ouija boards

Spirits

Not proms

Pink gown

Hated pink

Mom got it on sale

Insisted I get my brunette hair

Teased and sprayed

Into an itchy pile

Atop my head

Radical chic

More fitting for my frizz

Not quite in yet

What’s with me

And the senior prom?

Okay, spirits

I’m old now

Wanna know

What’s doing in the

Dead Dimension

I’m getting cremated

Why would I want to

Waltz through paradise

In a five-foot frame

And have to keep my

Weight down

Using a heavenly elliptical

Into kingdom come?

So I’m willing to trade in my body

For something nicer

No one wants to try this

Handmade Ouija with me

All the way from the smallest continent

Overpaid

But don’t think I need money

Where I’m headed

Might as well spend it

So Lone Practitioner that I am

Will lightly place both hands

On the planchette

Dogs will be quiet

Because I’ve tryptophaned them out

With chicken jerky

(Ten dollars for 16 pieces!

WTH is wrong with Walmart?)

Yeah, ok

I’ll be damned

–I am, I know—

Draw a protective circle

Sit amid a bronze bowl of salt

Fake crystal bowl of water

Aromatic sandalwood in a resin holder

Elephant trunk to hold the incense

Supposed to be a good luck totem

Flickering white candle from Save-A-Lot

With a picture of a saint

The acrylic moves

Across hand etched wood

Spelling out ——-

Well, can’t tell you

But I asked respectfully

Asked for a kind soul to guide me

And halfway through

The answer

The essence flew

Not sure where

Relieved?

Somewhat

Will save it for another day…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

GOOGLE-MANCY

 

So growing up with cartomancy

Consulting the cards

Or tasseomancy

Consulting the tea leaves

Or any of those other mancies

Ouija boarding the spirit world

Maybe even tipping the magic eight ball

For a quickie answer

Has now morphed

For me

Into querying

The O-Great-Google

For answers

Seriously

I said to myself

Why are you asking this question?

But here it is:

Is it ok to prefer strumming

Over what I think is the

More-difficult fingerstyle

Or is that a cop out?

And lo!

I’m not the only one who needs to know!

Forums about it all over the net

And my favorite answer is:

The Beatles preferred it

When playing acoustic

And strumming songs of fame

Are associated with Bob Dylan’s early name

On Google

Most everyone said learn both

Most everyone said strumming’s

Not necessarily the easy way out

It’s ok!

Whew!

But then…

I confess

I can guiltily see

A tempting retreat for lazy me

Hmmm, I wonder if I can ask Google

Who my Prince Charming, um,

Who my Ol’ King Charming

Will be…

 

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Victorian Tasseomancy (NPR unattributed)

TO LIVE INSIDE A DECK OF CARDS

To live inside a deck of cards

Safer place to reside

Than the world of flesh

Wouldn’t really be two dimensional

Because the true thinking

Goes on there, not here

In the Third dimension

I shuffle my Drom Ek Romani

The Way of One Gypsy

Amateur drawings first conceived

When very young

Although my artistry never improved

Each card is imbued

With my soul signature

I enter seeking refuge

With my agenda-less friends

(After all, I am their agenda)

When alone and blue

And want to hear the truth

It will not hurt my feelings

Like lies do, as told by

Three-dimensional people

Smiling into my face yet

Secretly sneering

I find myself in a polar universe

The Physical plane

Ice-encrusted imposing castle

Against a blue-tinged sky

Kapuri card 9

Imprisonment

Solitary confinement

Self-imposed?

My thoughts so imprecise

How do I melt the ice

Moving onto a theater stage

Opened curtains for performing serpent

Plane of Emotion

Slobozil Pe Maya card 10

Strip away the illusions

When I cannot accept life

I fantasize

Fine

Just don’t insist on making them a reality

Decades of falling into the same trap

The serpent represents wisdom

He hisses, but kindly

And I move away

Not quite twilight, I reach

A dark cave sheltering huge eyes

Guga card 20

Face your fears

This, then, is the Mental plane

Blinking eyes

Use your eyes

They seem to say

Then process all in your mind

Don’t be blind

How to trust my judgment

Once again a serpent

Wrapped around a tree

Reminiscent of that biblical story

But quite different

The snake, a she, wants me

To stop hanging on her tree

Sap card 12

You will hang here with me

Until you learn

Sacrificing your life

When all along you only need

To let go

This is the Spiritual plane

Trust in the Universe

Listen to what it sings

Most importantly

Trust in yourself

I am now on a bridge

Between the Third and Second dimensions

So safe here with friends

So frightening there

The world like a ring

With facets of faces

Multiple emotions

Directed my way

Don’t make me cross that bridge…

But I do…

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Four Drom Ek Romani cards

WORKING POVERTY

 

From medieval times

Romani women

Peering at palms

Some silken soft

Fewer worn and callused

Mapping wet tea leaves

Extracting colorful dyes from

Precious saffron

Strong spices

Local flora, used to

Embellish wood chips

Painted arcane symbols

Touched by the questor’s hands

Anxiously listening to

Forthcoming flutterings

Struggling to earn a few coins

That will stay sewn

Into the hem of the skirt

Lined with tiny mirrors

Reflecting jakhalo

Whether the Evil Eye

Deliberate or accidental

Part of the colorful clothes

An Eastern European version

Of the sari once worn

Before driven from the homeland

Into a freezing diaspora

Scattering all over the world

Some unluckily becoming slaves

Feeding the maw of

Greedy jaws

Until desrobireja

Emancipation

In the 19th century

Freedom once again

To travel the muddy roads

Never escape, though,

From need and someone else’s greed

Saving those few coins of comfort

In a romanticized job

With longer hours

Than nine to five

I, no better than my ancestors

The working poor

Trying to stay alive…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE:  A Chance Meeting with a Fortune-Teller, Adrien Moreau 1834-1906

 

 

 

SMITH COMMEMORATIVE

 

Why does Fate

Force some of us to wait

When we wish for Fame?

 

Talent unrewarded

Makes the mind disordered

Future promise dies from shame

 

Finally, dear Pamela Colman Smith

Your artistry depicting magic and myth

Has been lovingly recognized

 

A commemorative tarot tin

Your name first for the deck within

Has given what we prized

 

Rider-Waite never felt right

As I gazed at your art late into the night

When I was a very young girl

 

Like Edgar Allan Poe

So very long ago

You and others stayed hidden like a pearl

 

But genius and ability

Will demand visibility

Although you may never know

 

So like decades before

I read your images interpreting lore

Honoring the gift you did bestow…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens, ViataMaja

IMAGE: My tin of Smith-Waite tarot cards

 

 

15

 

How random is random

Clicked on the internet generator

15

 

15 is my day of birth

15 in tarot is temptation (some would say the devil)

15 in numerology adds up to 6 and in tarot that is the lovers

15 in Tao Te Ching is my favorite quote about being still

 

Since it is hard for me to remain still and quiet

I need this reminder

In love

But also in life

And here it is hours away from the 15th day of April:

 

“Who can be still
until their mud settles
and the water is cleared by itself?
Can you remain tranquil until right action
occurs by itself?”

 

I don’t think so, but I will try…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: pagespeed.ce