Today I drew the gorgeous Joanna herself. She graces the Nine of Earth. Here is a lovely redhead in a beautiful blue top. The top is a sky blue with fringe. I believe it is batiked. It is definitely something created with care and magic. She’s standing in a field of lavender while one of my own spirit guides wings its way across the top left corner. I am beginning to think that Joanna may also be attached to the Great Blue Heron energy. In the far back, you can see water just past the green shore.
All in all this card makes me think of being calm. Remembering my connection to my world. Diving deep into my surroundings so that I am a part of them as much as they are a part of me. Joanna’s head is cocked to her left. Her smile invites me to join her in the field. I don’t think there would be much talking. This is more about experiencing the world in non-verbal ways. Scent would have to be a part of it with all of that gorgeous lavender around her.
Oddly enough smell has been very powerful for me lately. I seem to be smelling everything in an overwhelming way. And it is not a good thing. I walked into my home last night to a faceslap of burned eggs that my stepson had cooked. I got into my car to smell cigarette smoke. Ugh. It is giving me headaches and making me nauseaus. My stepson joked that I must be pregnant the way scents were getting to me. I don’t know what it is, but even my new backpack has an unpleasant odor. I think I will be sending Febreeze a great deal of my money as I soak my surroundings to get rid of these overpowering smells.
I did realize though that scents are making me react pretty viscerally. It’s a raw, gut-wrenching thing for me right now. I have apologized more lately for my reactions to smells than to anything else.
Book says: “I am grateful for the place I call home.”
And here’s a poem I wrote just the other day. I saw the words and literally threw this down in about ten minutes. There are things that will be changed, but I was pleased with the initial results.
The nine words used were:
malaise wizened parlous purple shrewd acrid kismet mansion dwell
What parlous malaise is this love
That causes mansions to be abandoned
Delicate, deliberate tears to go unshed?
Is it some acrid scent of kismet
Where we lose our shrewd sense of reason
That love, like some wizened elder wizard,
Can cause us to dwell in treetop homes
Pretending we can fly like some bird
Purple of wing, black of eye, gold on gold
A forever nightingale for insincere ruler
Who knows not the treasure that sits so still
Waiting for that fist to close–to stop–to end
This parlous malaise that is love.
Stephanie Arwen Lynch
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