Part Two: A Stupid Broken Shovel

Years of training is making me call myself out right now. There are a lot of familiar clichés, expressions, and analogies in this post. With fiction, it's highly encouraged to come up with your own comparisons. But this isn't fiction, so I'm going to embrace them all and just expand on them more than usual instead.

This is part two of a three part series. Part one can be found here.

Fun fact for the post: I talk about one of my weirder collections in this one.

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I got my bachelors in print journalism, and a part of that education was turning in articles to Utah State University's school newspaper. I'd accepted a story to interview a psychic, and after talking on the phone, she'd agreed to meet me at a local coffee shop.

The owners of the shop had taken one of Logan's little houses and turned it into a refuge for readers or students who wanted to curl up to do homework on the randomly placed couches around the store. It was also one of the places the psychic said she saw her clients.

Prior to doing independent work, she'd worked for a call center. I'm pretty sure it was one of those services that ran advertisements on the T.V. encouraging lost or lovesick viewers to call in at 1 a.m. for a reading. She beamed with pride as she explained how she had regulars who would call in just for her, just like she had regular clients now.

As we waited for one of her appointments to arrive, she sat down with me on the floor next to a coffee table and carefully unwrapped a thin piece of cloth to remove her tarot deck. She'd explained how each card held a different meaning, and that meaning could change based on if the image was right side up or in reverse (upside down). She showed me the different layouts they could be in and how she let her own intuition pick cards out of the deck. While I was skeptical, I couldn't help but be enthralled by the whole thing. I love learning about different cultures and belief systems, and this one was no different.

But what I found really fascinating was her relationship with Tarot and a larger force she felt spoke to her. Her clients came from all sorts of religions, including LDS folks (which shocked my naïve little self) like the one who soon joined us in the little corner of the coffee shop. She was the same with me as she was with her client--very friendly, kind, and compassionate. I don't think she was swindling one of her regulars who sat across from her. I watched from the sidelines in my big cushy chair as she laid the last card down and mused over the spread for a moment. She then asked about the client's missionary son. Based on our conversation, she believed wholly in those cards with the respect I usually heard from friends when they talked about how they viewed their own scriptures.

I certainly didn't feel the devil or 'evil' during the time I was there. I walked out of there thinking I didn't agree or disagree with her. I didn't believe the cards worked, but I couldn't speak for her or the woman who'd sat across from her either. Maybe for them, they were being given answers that they needed. To simplify it, I didn't really care what people believed in then or now, so long as it doesn't lead to hurting others. Whether people get answers through prayers, books, cards, or meditation, it makes no difference to me. Life is hard enough, and if those things help people get through it, great.

I never did write the story up though, and I can't remember exactly why, but it didn't work out. Somewhere in my house there's probably a cassette tape from me interviewing her. I didn't have the heart to erase over it. Even if I never find it, I still remember bits and pieces of the conversation. I'm glad she let me interview her because that was one of the coolest experiences I had while pursuing my degree.

Despite getting my degree, I haven't made much use of it. To be honest, it wasn't the best match, but that is a different story. However, I do feel it was still useful. It helped develop my skills so when I started writing fiction and pursuing that, I had a decent base to build off of. Writing books, attending Sanderson's BYU class, Orson Scott Card's writing workshops, writers retreats, critique groups, and conferences was where I really improved over the past decade.

While writing fiction, I came across tarot cards again. At writing conferences and on some writing blogs I'd been reading, tarot or oracle cards would be suggested sometimes as a tool for writing exercises or ideas. So I bought a deck recommended for writers. I didn't care for the imagery, but when I bought it, I noticed other decks often with different themes to them and beautiful artwork. I'm not going to lie, it was mostly the art work I was buying them for. But before I realized it, over time I'd gone from buying a few of them that had caught my eye, to owning several, to having a full blown collection. (I think I own around twenty-eight at this point.) In more than one way, I'm basically a magpie.

There's a carousel of the different decks at the bottom of the post.

I still don't think cards can predict the future, or have some connection to God, the universe, or whatever else. At least they don't work that way for me, but I do think they make a good meditative practice or self-reflection and they've been surprisingly useful in that way.

So when I was sitting down at my kids' swim team practice early last month and I turned over a card to see an upside down fawn staring up at me, I shouldn't have been so annoyed when I looked up its meaning. What did the innocent looking deer mean? I flipped through the companion guide and read,

"...she handles details and logistics well--people depend on her. She has vast amount of inner strength. Like all of the Pentacles family, the Daughter thrives in nature."

Well, that sounded like me in a lot of ways, except the card was in reverse, which meant there was more to it than that. The book it came with didn't have the reverse meaning, so I did the next best thing and googled it.

I found a page about it and skipped to the bottom for what I was looking for. A lot of it talked about money, but that wasn't what made me curse and glare at the card. It was the bit that said the card in reverse

"...refers to a lack of concentration. You are focusing on too many things but nothing is the priority. No matter how smart you are, this ambiguity will hinder you. In addition, the Daughter of Pentacles in reverse suggests that you should rest and refresh your mind."

Funny how the things I didn't want to think about somehow forced their way back to the forefront of my mind. Instead of some other card, of course I drew the one that reminded me of my recent failures. I wanted to see what my subconscious drudged up while I pretended not to melt in the blistering sun, not have a mirror essentially shoved in my face. I stared at the card. It wasn't wrong though and it was probably good advice. Stop forcing things, take a break, and try again, especially when I remembered what the card meant in the upright position.

I feel like part of adulthood means taking on more responsibility and knowing your limits. I had the fun moment of finding out what those limits were in recent months. I didn't know a little part of my brain could just shut off and refuse to think further on issues it just can't handle any more. Or that when I go blazing past those limits, I'll stop being able to regulate my own emotions and start acting uncharacteristically as mundane problems suddenly set my temper off or leave me crying hysterically in the garage. It was hard knowing that was not normal for me and I struggled to understand what was going on (good news is I know now and I am no longer in that spot). Turns out burn out sucks and it doesn't just happen with careers and work, but it can happen with personal relationships too.

I remember with wrestling the coaches would tell us we had to 'dig deep,' 'keep going', and 'never quit'. As if we were these endless wells where strength could be pulled from. I've heard it elsewhere too. It's a very popular mindset. But the problem with that analogy is wells aren't endless and you can get to a point where it is impossible to dig further. They can also run dry or collapse completely. I can be a well for others to find help and strength, but if I let people take too much, my stupid shovel breaks once it hits rock. I've learned I need to recognize when I'm nearing that point and take time to protect my limits, even if it means telling people I can't help them all the time, even if their problems are likely worse than my own.

I feel like it can be tied into the whole 'everyone is fighting their own battles,' and lately I've been playing the role of medic. It is as if I've watched people in my life be hit with blows that threatened to bleed them out, and all I could do was try to keep that from happening until they were stable or someone with more tools than what I had arrived. I've learned sometimes when people are in severe pain, including emotional or mental, that they aren't aware they can hurt others in the process, including those trying to stop the bleeding. Nor can they see that others might be dealing with their own wounds, even if they're not as life threatening. Because when people are hurting like that, they are struggling to survive and simply can't be there for me too. I've discovered that if I look up and see I'm the only one there, then I should bandage my own wounds. A gunshot can take a person out, but so can a thousand cuts.

I know better now to listen to myself and what my limits are, or else I'm going to break. That's been important to take to heart. I don't care much for martyrdom and self-sacrificing until the point of misery. I'm not going to do it. There is value in self-preservation. I can help my spouse, kids, family, and friends all day, but not if I wreck myself in the process. Like most people, I'd rather be useful than useless. So as much as I hate it, maybe the card was right. Slowing down and not pushing it is also respecting my limits. Going full force when I'm not at full capacity isn't prudent. And if I do break, finding outside help like a therapist is also a great way to drag myself back together, but I'd rather it not get to that point at all.

Being adaptable and learning how to navigate life and relationships is something I'm constantly learning. Luckily, new tools and understanding myself better has also increased right alongside it. But the best thing I've learned is when to stop and take a break, because if I don't do that, then my body and mind will force me to, and it will take a lot longer to get back to where I once was. And I guess another good thing out of all of it is I definitely know exactly what my capacity is.