About a month ago I was having a conversation with my friend, Jeff Rundquist, in the venerable public space of Facebook. On that occasion he made the remark that I was deserving of gifts. By a swerve of fate, he mentioned that he was going to send me a genuine arrowhead. The offer for this gift coincided with my having walked the dog at the venerable hour called 2 AM in the morning – a normal routine for me – and when I found myself taking pictures of the Moon spearing Jupiter. This he didn’t know about. Nor about the fact that I had just been musing about a sharp thing to go with my moon beam. I ended up writing a little fragment about it here, inlcuding pics and everything.
How can I use this venerable gift, found in a field by a small river, and probably from the Osage tribe?
Three cards fell on the table:
The Popesse, Death, The Hanged Man
Sometimes we are meant to just witness how divinatory tools work with power tools.
My first impression here was to say that there’s a reversal: in this sequence, it looks like the sword is mightier than the pen, what with the scythe decapitating the author. But then I looked at The Hanged Man and marveled at the message, when my limited cultural competence finally kicked in. This is all about scalping, a venerable first nations tradition in times of war. Well, scalping was also used for other things, as I have since learned, as soon as I read these lines on the history of the Osage tribe:
‘The men of the Osage Indians wore a scalplock with the rest of the head shaved. The clan a man belonged to could be distinguished by the pattern of their scalplock.’
It goes to show. We go with the flow and we learn something all the time. Though, of course, as with the cards, we’re also meant to consider the beauty of ambiguity and what it does for us: If I’m meant to lose my head, then how can I still perform the action that would honor what I wanted to know from the cards in the first place? ‘How can I use, thee…’ I’ve asked the arrowhead.
I think I’m going to take another walk in the woods in the company of my dog, and will try to figure out how to start with my own scalp. Cut some of my hair, and bury it into the ground, or do what the Osage people did. I’m beginning to have a very distinct feeling that I’m being inducted in this tribe.
I wonder what Jeff will make of all this.
Thank you, my friend, for this very special gift, and for the thoughts and actions it stirs in me. Blessings onto you. Aho.
Note on the cards: Carolus Zoya Marseille Tarot (ca. 1790). Facsimile by myself with permission of the collector K. Frank Jensen.