Fear of the Seeker

I recently joined the Gaian Tarot Circle, an online community for Joanne Powell-Colbert’s wonderful Gaian Tarot deck. And, although I have hardly dived into it, I already have this feeling of community. I know all the people there love this deck at least as much as I do, and that they are all intent on learning more about the cards and themselves.

Part of the Gaian Tarot Circle is dedicated to a monthly study of one of the cards. And, as befits a new community, the first card is The Seeker. (You can see it here.) In working through the questions for week 1, I came to realize that my emotional response to this card includes fear and trepidation. These aren’t feelings that I have ever had with the Fool card, and in some ways make no sense. The Seeker is a lovely card with a verdant valley and meandering stream. There are swallows in the calm sky and the feeling of a gentle breeze blowing softly across my skin. And yet I feel fear. (As an aside, when I first wrote this out, I typed “free” instead of “fear”. Very interesting, n’est-ce pas?)

The journey through that valley looks like it will take a very long time, and I don’t see any signs of human life. Who will be my companions? Where will I rest? Where can I take shelter if there is a storm? Is the companionship of the fox, a trickster and shape-shifter, enough to sustain me? Is he even meant to be my companion?

I am sure that these unusual feelings conjured by this card are just a reflection of my life right now. It is unsettled due to work questions, mothering a toddler, and continually putting off my dreams (until my contract is up, until Baby Man is older, until we know what we are doing, until I feel better, until I catch up on some sleep, until, until, until).

One of the ladies in the Circle posted a wonderful passage to the forum. It is from Scottish mountaineer William Hutchinson Murray:

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.

All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.

And that, gentle Readers, is what I need to do. I must commit to something and allow the world and myself to get on with the work. But there also lies my fear.