I decided to read my Tarot cards after the 2016 election results sent me reeling with disbelief, anger, and despair. The message I got was simple: I will be fine. (The nation and the world..? IDK.) But the cards advised me to focus on me. My family. My goals. My dreams. My work.
I will have to set aside what I can’t control, and focus on what I can. I’ll have to strive for balance and joy in my own life. Stop watching the news. Stop arguing on Facebook with people who frankly don’t give a shit about the facts when they’ve already made up their minds. Stop hoping they’ll learn their lesson when we all go to hell in a hand-basket. Because they won’t. They’ll find a way to blame it on someone or something other than the man they elected to destroy a government they feel is against them. They sent an atom bomb to do the job a hand grenade (or a flat of daisies and some good fertilizer) would have accomplished. And the rigged system Trump complained about elected him president though the majority of voters elected Hillary Clinton. And we will all have to live with the results (as will the rest of the world) because what’s done is done is done and done.
But I have to believe that there is a larger plan in motion that I’m not aware of–because really, isn’t there always?
So instead of biting my fingernails and waiting for the world as I know it to implode, I will work in my own yard and communicate with animals and do counseling and healing sessions for my clients. I will write and meditate and make art.
When it is too scary and depressing to contemplate the world beyond our farm, I will look inside, instead. Inside this farm fence. Inside these farmhouse walls. Inside my own soul. I will take my cue from the animals I talk to on a daily basis. They’re not concerned with politics. They are interested in themselves and those they love. They tend to their own, and pour all their love, all their effort, all their focus, into doing what they can, where they are, with what they’ve got. The roosters assert their dominance while the hens huddle together for comfort–and when necessary, gather together to whup a rooster’s arrogant ass. Then they all go back to scratching and clucking and digging for worms in their own back yard, ignoring everything that happens outside their own sphere of influence.
That’s what I’m going to do, too. And I will be okay. We will all be okay, if we focus on putting everything we’ve got into the only thing we can control. Ourselves. We have to concentrate on filling–and then overflowing–the present form. Quantum leaps may not be possible right now. But we will be okay if we continue to give steady attention to making our own contribution to the collective consciousness the best it can be.
There are two options in this life. Love, or fear. Though fear tries its hardest to hook me with its claws, I choose love.
I choose love.