Completely Joyous

Connecting and Creating

May 15th, 2012 . Posted in Reiki, Tarot, Tarot and Reiki, Tarot Philosophy, Tarot Readings | No Comments »

A common thread that has come up in both my tarot classes and Reiki classes is, How can we help others when we have so much healing to do ourselves? As passionate as we are about sharing our gifts, the more we learn about healing the more we see how long our own road is.

One of the first exercises I teach in my beginning tarot class is to tune into what our personal projections are so that we don’t confuse our own stuff with that of our clients. In Reiki the teaching is similar: we learn to step aside and be an empty channel for Spirit. At more advanced levels, the metaphor is slightly different, and we practice becoming aware of our connection to Divine Unity, and then being aware of the client’s connection to Divine Unity, so that there is no longer any separation from the perfect health and happiness expressed through Spirit. Either way we release our own limited understanding and ego-based existence and place ourselves in a state of knowing that all is perfect because all comes from Spirit.

I advise my tarot students also to learn to step aside and allow their readings to come from Spirit. It’s a Reiki approach to tarot that really works. Another way of looking at this is to do all readings from the heart. When I first started doing a lot of public readings at psychic fairs and such, I would start the reading by visualizing a horizontal ray of light connecting my heart center and my client’s heart center, and then seeing a ray of light from my heart up through my crown to Spirit, and a similar ray from the client’s heart to Spirit. The rays converged at the level of Spirit, creating a tall, narrow triangle linking my heart and my client’s heart to Spirit. Knowing that the reading was coming from the unity of Spirit and being expressed through compassion, I was able to read at a much deeper and more healing level.

It is easy to approach even difficult cards when we are confident that to speak these challenges will release them to Spirit so that they can be quickly and easily transformed. And when I’m working from a place of compassion, there is no judgment to get in the way of the reading, no overseeing societal sense of right or wrong, simply compassion for the immediate experience of the client and a clear connection to Spirit to provide the vast perspective from which insight and guidance arise.

The only problem I see with tarot is that words too often get in the way. Language comes from a part of the brain that is analytical, decisive, defining. Language limits. That is its beauty and its betrayal. I always start my public Reiki talks with the quote, “The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.” As soon as words are imposed on Spirit, we limit the unlimited and therefore are immediately mistaken. As soon as I open my mouth, I’m wrong. So how can I ever possibly help another person? When doing a Reiki session, it’s easy—I keep my mouth shut! I simply bask in the beauty of Reiki. I might be the one to open the window, but we all benefit from the breeze.

Most styles of reading the cards require the use of language. I have found that the more I release those words from what I might think they would mean for such a person in such a situation (my own limiting beliefs and experience imprisoning the reading!) and the more I allow the storyteller to spin the thread of the tale from the stuff of Spirit, the more accurate I become and the more I connect on a deep level to the querent. I am constantly learning to stop trying to be right or trying to be helpful and just tell the story in front of me, no matter how creative it may sound.

Creation comes from Spirit and our true nature is to express ourselves as creative beings. So how do we heal ourselves? By empowering ourselves to freely express our deep honesty, compassion, and creativity. How do we heal others? By sharing our own totally free selves.

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If you like this post, you might also like “Tarot and Reiki” and “Tarot as a Healing Art.”

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Joy Vernon is a Certified Professional Tarot Reader and Reiki Teacher in Denver, Colorado. Her specialty is the Empyrean Key Transformational Guidance, which combines energetic and esoteric modalities to help her clients break through blocks and align themselves with their higher purpose. For information on upcoming classes or to schedule an appointment, please visit JoyVernon.com.

The Fire Tends to All

May 1st, 2012 . Posted in Astrology, Tarot, Tarot Blog Hop, Tarot Philosophy | 4 Comments »

Welcome to the Tarot Blog Hop! An international group of tarotists are all writing on the same topic and then linking to each other so that the reader can hop from one blog to the next, seeing all the permutations and facets that the topic inspired in different writers. You can hop back to New Paths Tarot, An Enchanted Journey on Your Life Path. Or read ahead here and then hop forward!

Beltane is the holiday in the sign of Taurus, the Bull. This is a fixed earth sign, no fire about it. Although, as we’ll see, the phrase “the fire tends to all” is nevertheless highly appropriate. An interesting thing I learned about the fixed signs as I have meditated on them over the years is that whereas at first I thought they must work to keep things the same, in reality they could be very change-oriented–but always in order to continue or prolong. This came to me when I compared the three modes to the beginning, middle and end of a story. The middle certainly doesn’t stay the same! Everything happens in the middle. Just think of all the plot twists and turns in a good thriller or the turnabouts and machinations in a never-ending soap opera. The fixed signs do their best to keep things going.

Beltane is a cross-quarter day in the Neo-Pagan ritual cycle. The quarter days are the solstices and equinoxes—the demarcations of the cardinal signs: Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn. The cross-quarter days were simply half-way between the quarter days, and back when I celebrated this cycle, I often failed to give them much more credence than that. The quarter days were clear to me in their implication—they marked observable transitions in the solar cycle. The cross-quarter days had various myths attached to them by different traditions, myths that had to do with agricultural cycles or other things that were foreign and unrecognizable to my modern day mentality. The only thing I knew about farming was that, in Michigan where I grew up, my mom would say that the corn should be “knee-high by the Fourth of July.” This did not then or later inspire me as worthy of ritual observance.

So as I worked the cycle of the year, writing and performing magical rites, the quarter days had the momentousness of momentary meaning—the moment when the sun stood still, the moment when the day equaled the night. The cross-quarter days were about stories and traditions. Planting seeds at Imbolc (I preferred to call it Brigid, whose story I liked), dancing the Maypole at Beltane, scrying when the veil was thinnest on Samhain. Moods not moments.

This becomes clear when considering the dates astrologically. The quarter days start the four seasons, the zero degrees of the cardinal signs. The cross-quarter days are roughly but not quite the midway marks of the fixed signs—sloppily approximating the 15-degree point. The dates are assigned by tradition, not defined by the sun’s zodiacal journey. (The mutable signs manage to avoid the whole charade, simply floating past unmarked by Pagan imprecision.)

In A Handbook for the Humanistic Astrologer, Michael Meyer says that the cardinal signs generate energy, the fixed signs concentrate energy, and the mutable signs distribute energy. He calls the four 15-degree points of the fixed signs—the kerubic signs, represented by the Lion, Eagle, Angel and Bull, the “Four Gates of Avataric Descent.” The gates concentrate and release the power generated by the preceding cardinal sign. So the gate of Taurus focuses the energy of the vernal equinox, the gate of Leo that of the summer solstice, etc. Meyer’s Cyclic Formula of the Four Portals states that the gate of Taurus the Bull represents the power released toward the formation of an individual being; the gate of Leo the Lion is the power released by that individual; the gate of Scorpio the Eagle is the power released towards the formation of the universal being and the gate of Aquarius the Angel is the power released by that universal being.

Fixed signs cultivate—they nurture, tend. They provide every opportunity to prolong the story, to extend life. Taurus is the fixed sign that is harnessing the power of the preceding equinox—zero degrees Aries. Taurus is concentrating and focusing fire. So Taurus truly does tend the fire.

The symbols of the Lion, Bull, Eagle and Angel are well known to tarot readers. These four images generally appear on the World card dating back to the Marseilles decks, and are also found on the Wheel on A. E. Waite’s deck, which, according to Case, he derived from Eliphas Levi’s diagram in The Sanctum Regnum. There are also occasional encore appearances, such as on Crowley’s Chariot card. In the Wheel and World cards, the Bull and Lion are on the bottom left and right corners of the card, representing the formation of the individual and his release of power. The Eagle and Angel are the top right and left, representing the universal being and the release of his power.

Why did Waite add the four kerubic emblems to the Wheel card? For one thing, it equates the Wheel to the World. If we supplement our knowledge with the idea of the gates of avataric descent, it seems that one of these cards must represent the formation and power of the individual whereas the other would represent the formation and power of the universal being.

As to which is which, the Wheel is associated with the Hebrew letter kaph, the grasping hand. Paul Foster Case says that the two extremes associated with this double letter are poverty and wealth, marking the ends of the spectrum of property, a Taurean keyword. He assigns to the Wheel the direction west and sunset, the endings of cycles. The Wheel also represents capricious change in fortune. Materialism and changing cycles are associated with the manifest world. Together these symbols all suggest that the Wheel, were it to be assigned to an avataric process, would symbolize the formation and power of the individual. You might say that this is indicated in the card by the haloed kerubic emblems–in this card, the energy is brought from the universal energy at the corners of the card and manifested into the material world represented by the centered wheel.

The World is associated with the letter tav which means mark or cross, and which Paul Foster Case calls a symbol of salvation from death, and eternal life. Both Case and Levi refer to the symbolism of the card as indicating the completion of the Great Work. Case goes on to say that tav represents the center, where man can commune with God. Dominion and slavery are the opposites given to this double letter, ideas which work well with the World’s planet, Saturn, and which are usually associated with the bonds of the material world. These are the extremes of the scale of mastery. Here Taurus comes in handy again, for the Hierophant, the trump associated with the fixed earth sign, teaches us about this paradox. By enslaving himself to the rituals of his faith, this religious leader gains the dominion of the spiritual realm. It seems that the World certainly refers to the formation and power of the universal being. Here, the lack of halos on the kerubs could indicate that the energy is stepping forward from the four corners of the material and manifest plane and erupting through the center wreath into the universal being.

To reinforce our work, it is helpful to note that Saturn, the planet assigned to the World, rules Capricorn, the Devil, representative of the winter solstice. It also rules Aquarius, the Star, representative of the gate of Aquarius, the man or angel at the top left of the card. Saturn is exalted in Libra, the autumnal equinox, which is the Justice card, which is the equinoctial energy focused by Scorpio—the eagle in the upper right—in the formation of the universal being. So by this reasoning, we again find that Saturn, the World, correlates to the universal being. Interestingly, Jupiter, which corresponds to the Wheel, is exalted in Cancer, the Chariot, which is the summer solstice, relating to the solstitial energy funneled by Leo, our lower right corner kerubic emblem, symbol of the power of the individual. (The two signs Jupiter rules are mutable signs and not covered in our discussion.)

Our seasonal sign, Taurus, and its related card the Hierophant, help us unlock the mysteries of involution and evolution, the formation of the individual and the formation of the universal being. The Hierophant holds his right hand in the gesture of that which is revealed and that which is concealed. Like Taurus focusing the energy of Aries, the Hierophant concentrates and releases the fire of the Holy Spirit. This divine energy, released into the material world through the limited rites of religion, is sustaining, nourishing, and unchanging. The fire tends to all.

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To work more with the image of the Wheel and the process of formation, see The Revolutionary Wheel article and spread, which focuses on the involution/evolution process. For advice on how to rise above the capriciousness of Fortune, see the Who Will Reign spread.

Hop ahead to Tarot by Hilary, the girl next door… that reads tarot or visit the master list of all the blogs.

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Harnessing the Grand Trine in Earth

March 21st, 2012 . Posted in Astrology, Empyrean Key, Tarot | No Comments »

If you’ve chanced to look west after sunset the past couple weeks or so, you’ve probably noticed Jupiter and Venus, bright and beautiful above the dark horizon. If you’ve felt in love with the whole world, it might be because the lovely Venus is dancing hand in hand with the contagious high spirits and worldly wisdom of Jupiter. The Moon will cut in for a very happy threesome at the beginning of next week (and Jupiter says the more the merrier!).

All this loving is part of a much larger astrological formation. Jupiter, Mars and Pluto are equidistant from each other, creating the shape of an equilateral triangle on an astrological chart. This triangle, or grand trine in astrological terms, indicates that all the planets involved are in an easy-going, harmonious and mutually supportive relationship.

The three primary planets of the grand trine are all very energetic—they have a lot of fire power. Jupiter is expansive, Mars passionate and Pluto transformative. When you take all that successful, courageous, destructive and resurrecting energy and put them together like a cosmic wheel of fortune, change is inevitable. And of course the vernal equinox already means new growth—you can feel the heat this spring as we germinate under this heavenly grow lamp.

The planets of the grand trine are in earth signs. Earth signs are stable, reliable and abundant. Our harmonious and energetic planets are doing their work in an environment of long-term security. We transform with unwavering commitment and our results are enduring.

Sometimes the grand trine energies work so well together they tend to get lazy and take the easy way out. That might be possible while Venus is distracting Jupiter, but the new moon of March 22 will join several planets squaring Pluto, a focal point into which the build-up of transformative energy funnels. The Sun doesn’t form an exact square to Pluto until March 29, but at the time of the new moon, there will be a Sun, Moon, Mercury, Uranus stellium in the first few degrees of Aries that squares Pluto in Capricorn. The beginning of Aries marks the vernal equinox, and these four planets coming together in this place of symbolic budding create a magnifying lens that can direct the grand trine energies into a smouldering focus—and the phoenix will rise from the ashes.

If you are fired up to engage your own transformation, now is the time to do it! I have created a series of tarot spreads for astrologers and non-astrologers alike to help you find what the grand trine in earth means for you personally. These spreads use the Empyrean Key method for personal transformation, so you won’t just get insight into these forces in your life—you’ll harness them and drive them to your destination! Using the Empyrean Key process outlined here, you can analyze the significance of the astrological formations, see how you express them in your life, and synthesize that expression into a unity of purpose and focus. Meditate on the synthesis to discover a simple symbol that summarizes the work you’ve done in your interpretation of the cards, and then use that symbol magically and playfully to manifest change in your life.

Get your free Empyrean Key Harnessing the Grand Trine in Earth Tarot Spreads!

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Paint a Journey with New Life

March 19th, 2012 . Posted in Tarot, Tarot Blog Hop | 18 Comments »

Welcome to the Tarot Blog Hop! An international group of tarotists are all writing on the same topic and then linking to each other so that the reader can hop from one blog to the next, seeing all the permutations and facets that the topic inspired in different writers. You can hop back to the Fool Stop Tarot Blog, the official blog of the U.S. Games Systems. Or read ahead here and then hop forward!

When I found out the theme for this cycle of the Tarot Blog Hop, I ran it past a number of friends to get their insight on it. One immediately responded as if it were obvious, “Well, you’re painting a journey—that says to me that you’re taking action and creating something.” Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. But it seemed right on—and very appropriate for the seasonal symbolism.

Ostara is a holiday associated with the spring equinox. Unlike the earlier spring holiday, Imbolc, which is representative of the first stirrings of growth still deep underground, Ostara is the time of visible expansion—shoots, buds and the earliest of the foolhardy blossoms that push up through the snow and show off their colorful defiance.

According to my Webster’s New Collegiate dictionary, Easter comes from the Old English eastre and is akin to the Old High German ostarun. It goes on to say that both derive from the prehistoric name of a pagan spring festival associated with the east. In traditions worldwide and throughout history, the east, through its natural association with the dawn, symbolically represents the beginning of things, new birth and resurrection. This is celebrated at the holidays of Ostara and Easter.

One of my early Rocky Mountain springtimes was spent in Rist Canyon. I remember how difficult the winter had been (we were up a mile and a half of four-wheel-drive-and-chains Jeep trail) and I remember one day seeing the most lovely little purple flowers half-buried under the snow. They looked like furry crocuses. We asked around and found out they were pasqueflowers.

Pasque is the word for Easter, the time when these flowers bloom. Checking my Webster’s again, I found that these flowers were called passefloure in Old English from the French passefleur from passer, to pass. The derivation goes back to the Hebrew pesach, Passover. The flowers, and this time of early spring, symbolize that which has passed through the difficult and deadly winter to spring to life in the early days of growing light. The pasqueflower is a reminder that our suffering will pass, and new opportunities will present themselves.

In Christian symbolism, the resurrection of Christ at Easter is preceded by His Passion, or suffering. Consulting the dictionary again, I found something very interesting. Passion also means being acted upon—passive. Here is an interesting contrast to my friend’s interpretation of the Ostara theme—to take action, create.

There is a tarot card with a similar paradox. The Emperor brings to mind from its title alone a powerful and ruling figure. It is easy to read the card as a force that acts upon us, we the passive recipients of his command. But the Emperor is esoterically associated with the astrological sign of Aries, the beginning of which is marked by the vernal equinox. Aries is a cardinal fire sign, initiating, energizing, inspiring and creating. Aries is fiercely independent, not likely to rule or be ruled, but exploring, pioneering, breaking boundaries.

The Emperor is, I think, the one card that Waite got wrong. His image shows a white-bearded stately ruler, sceptre and orb in hand, armored and then draped in a robe and cloak of red. He shifts uncomfortably on his throne carved of rock, adorned with the seasonal ram’s heads. He is foregrounded; in the far distance a blue ribbon of river spools through a yellow desert from which rises a steep and towering rock cliff. As he fidgets, he glances to the side. One tarot reader told me he was looking to his wife, the Empress, to get permission for his actions. Waite has produced the image of the weary ruler, tired of his assigned duty, ready to move on. But an Aries doesn’t squirm or seek approval. An Aries just acts.

I think a better image for the Emperor is that of either Aleister Crowley or Paul Foster Case, both of whom show the statesman in profile, turned to his right, legs overlapping to form a cross, surmounted by the triangle of his arms and head. This forms the symbol of alchemical sulfur, the expansive force in nature, which activates the process but is evaporated out before the process is complete.

The Emperor faces full profile to his right to show that all his force and power are directed towards the Empress, who receives and gestates this energy in her process of manifestation. The Martial energy of Aries is directed towards Venus, who rules the succeeding sign of Taurus, associated with the material—money, possessions, comforts—that which can be obtained and maintained. This Emperor advises that when we get spring fever, not to let that energy dissipate, but provide it direction and focus. Aries are notorious for starting things and not finishing them!

The Emperor in profile suggests the compromise between passive and creative—directive. He takes the unregulated influx of spiritual energy and gives it shape and focus so that it can be most effectively and efficiently utilized.

Curiously, when I initially read the description for the Ostara theme, the very first card that popped into my mind was the Druidcraft Three of Wands. It shows a man in the foreground on the right, one foot on the ground, one on a rock, as he leans against a large old tree, his back to us, looking off into the far distance. To his left are planted three saplings. But his gaze is on a path that winds off into the distance before him. To me the card symbolizes wanderlust. Despite the fact that he has established new beginnings in his present environment—the three saplings—his mind is already casting ahead to his next adventure. Does he stay to tend what has been newly established or head off to the next new thing? This card is associated with the second decan of Aries, ruled by the Sun, and is a fitting example of the Aries initiating energy.

Wanderlust only needs a direction, not a destination. When we paint our own journey with new life, we are not hitching a passive ride, nor are we creating a specific place of arrival. Rather we are entering the flow of the Divine, and through our directive force, choosing which heading to take on our exploration. With the confidence of the pasqueflower, we push up from under our darkness, our suffering, our times of death, and know that as the light waxes, so our new life dawns before us.

Hop ahead to Michael Banuelos, the Modern Day Oracle!

For a complete list of all bloggers and links to their Ostara Blog Hop entries, visit Musings on the Tarot.

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Intention-Attention-Connection

March 1st, 2012 . Posted in Reiki | No Comments »

It’s time for me to step forward and make my confession. I’m not a huge fan of intention, affirmations, and such. I do use them—don’t get me wrong. They’re fast, simple and effective and sometimes that’s what I need. But to me, intention can too often be about control, and control is about ego, and one of my spiritual goals is to try to expand beyond ego.

Certainly intention has its place. As in most things, there is a spectrum that ranges from vague, unfocused and nebulous, through highly defined and controlled, out to pure Unity where we are in total alignment with Divine Truth. An intention is a great way to crawl out of the ocean of the undifferentiated and bring focus to what we’re doing. And when we are at the point of just developing our meditative focus, then setting and using intentions is a great tool for bringing our mind to bear on a single thought.

Someone recently commented on a Reiki website that energy follows the mind. The point was that if our mind is otherwise engaged or distracted, the energy will follow these distracted thoughts, which might be on a television show or what to get at Starbucks after we’re done with our session. In fact, as this person pointed out, the meaning of the first Reiki symbol is Focus, reminding us that focusing the mind is an important first step in our spiritual development.

However, in my experience it’s not so much that energy follows the mind and its intentions, but that energy follows our attention. For instance, I don’t intend for the Reiki energy to flow and it begins to flow; I know the Reiki energy is always present and always flowing and I simply turn my attention to it.

I think the idea of attention asks us to reconsider what the mind is—to me our attention or awareness is part of the mind, but not the part of our mind that is always thinking; it’s the part that can be aware that we are thinking—I’ve heard it called the Observer. I think Reiki is more likely to follow the big Mind; and the little mind is more likely to impede its flow.

The first symbol is certainly about focus, but it’s also about earth energy and grounding our spiritual practice into the unfocused world of reality. It’s about bringing our attention into our body, and shifting our focus to the physical body can, with practice, still the mind. Also, by being physically present in the body, distractions, either generalized hubbub or those that are unintended and unpredictable, have less effect on us, allowing us to work even when conditions are not optimal.

Bringing the energy into the body might sound counter-intuitive for some—Reiki is spiritual energy, it seems like it should come from above us. And certainly many people experience it just that way. However, according to Japanese philosophy, our connection to the Source begins in our body, at the hara, or belly. The hara is the place of our connection with our parents, and extending beyond that to our ancestral energy, which by extension includes our connection to the Source of Life. It is our original energy that we were born with and cannot change; some define it as our personal perfection. By finding our connection to Source within us, it is much easier to see that we are one with Source.

I think Reiki works best when the mind is still, when we release our intentions and experience our connection.
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Joy Vernon is a Reiki Practitioner and Teacher in Denver, Colorado. She is trained in two styles of Traditional Japanese Reiki: Usui Reiki Ryôhô and Komyo Reiki, as well as the Western-influenced Usui Tibetan tradition of Reiki. Joy is also a Certified Professional Tarot Reader. To schedule an appointment or for information on upcoming classes, please visit JoyVernon.com.

The Qabalah Tattoo

February 16th, 2012 . Posted in Kabbalah, Spiritual Practices | No Comments »

This ancient mystical tradition of the Hebrews possessed three literatures: the Books of the Law and the Prophets, which are known to us as the Old Testament; the Talmud, or collection of learned commentaries thereon; and the Qabalah, or mystical interpretation thereof. Of these three the ancient Rabbis say that the first is the body of the tradition, the second its rational soul, and the third its immortal spirit. Ignorant men may with profit read the first; learned men study the second; but the wise meditate upon the third.
–from The Mystical Qabalah by Dion Fortune

A good friend yesterday reminded me of the qabalah tattoo.

Last fall I had mentioned something about qabalah to one of my best students and she said, “I don’t know what qabalah is. I mean, I know Britney Spears does it and got the tattoo…” This might suggest to you my student’s age. Most of my friends respond to any mention of qabalah with, “Isn’t that what Madonna does?” Certainly these different generations of superstars have made this a household word, but that doesn’t mean there is a common understanding of this mystical tradition.

Qabalah means “to receive,” and refers to receiving this oral tradition “from mouth to ear.” However, I see it as also meaning that the understanding of the system can be received directly from the Divine, through our study and contemplation of its symbols. No one can tell you what qabalah means, but you can learn to open yourself to receive what is important and relevant for you.

There are a lot of different ways of approaching the qabalah, and the tradition I follow is not that of Britney or Madonna. In fact, the qabalah can be divided into three very broad styles, each with many subsects. The different spellings you see often reflect these broader categories: kabbalah with a “k” generally refers to the traditional Jewish mysticism, and is what the other styles derive from. Cabala with a “c” is the spelling often preferred by Christians who engage in this study, and qabalah with a “q” refers to the Hermetic qabalah, which is taught in the Western Mystery Tradition that I am trained in.

But don’t get too fond of these definitions: the spelling cabala is the only one not highlighted by spell check, and some people use it for that very practical reason. Likewise, kabbalah is probably the most common spelling, and I frequently choose that because it’s what people are more familiar with and more likely to search for. The mutability of the spelling of this spiritual tradition already starts to provide some clues about it: it is adaptable, not set in stone; it changes and transmutes according to need. There is no right way of doing it, although there are certainly more traditional ways to approach it.

My friend yesterday said, “Really? There’s a qabalah tattoo?” I responded sardonically, “Well, apparently.” He nodded with a focused but distant gaze. I watched him. I felt the need to clarify. “No, there’s no tattoo in traditional qabalah.” “Oh!” he said.

I imagine—and I don’t have the slightest desire to bother Googling it—but my guess is that Britney, if she did get the alleged tattoo, most likely has etched into some part of her body the symbol called the Tree of Life. The Tree of Life is the primary glyph of qabalah and is a meditative tool that opens the way to profound wisdom. (Hopefully Britney has her tat where she can easily see it so she can gain the benefits of contemplating it; this is only conjecture, but I suspect that the benefits cannot be gained solely from the inking experience.)

The Tree of Life is a brilliantly simple yet complexly layered symbol. It arises geometrically from the interstices of four overlapping circles. These four circles represent the four worlds of qabalistic philosophy. They describe a process for bringing inspiration into reality, or traversed in the other direction, for rising from the material world to that emanating from the Divine. The interstices show the landing points or stops along the way and represent different states of consciousness. If we draw lines linking the interstices to each other, we gain pathways that can lead us from one state of consciousness to another, and ultimately provide ways of moving between the different worlds.

So, what is the qabalah in twenty-five words or less? The qabalah is a map to the Divine, a blueprint for manifestation, and a meditative tool that lets us journey between heaven and earth.

The Tree of Life is also a system of correspondences. Each interstitial point—or sphere—and each linking line—or path—has a series of associations assigned to it. The correspondences include colors, planets, tarot cards, parts of the body, plants, incenses, gemstones, angels, deities from cross-cultural mythologies, and on and on. We can use these correlations to help us explore the states of consciousness with our senses or meditate on the relationships to find new insights.

The labyrinth of correspondences winds ever deeper providing fascinating insight and sometimes devious detours, but walking these paths truthfully eventually leads us to the still center. The Tree exhibits certain symmetries that through reflection provide ways of approaching even the most hidden mysteries. It is through the sussing of these secrets that we learn to understand ourselves and through that understanding approach the unattainable Divine.

Of course, there is another meaning for tattoo–a rhythmic series of raps, as on a drum. Sometimes the dance between correspondences becomes so syncopated that it brings us into an altered state. As the mind circles through the sometimes paradoxical symbols, we are forced to release reason and sway in the cadences of intuition. And here in this rhythm we receive the revelations from beyond the veil. Here in the rhythm of the qabalah tattoo we hear the heartbeat of the Divine.

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If you are interested in seeing how the systems of correspondence from the Tree of Life can be used in a fun and practical manner, please check out my Valentine’s Day tarot spreads that I developed for the Denver Tarot Meetup. These aren’t typical “find your soul mate” spreads, but I played off the idea of finding soul connections. They can be used to gain insight and clarity into any type of relationship. One is a fun predictive spread, one is designed to help us understand our relationship in comparison to the vision we hold for it, and one is a deeply transformative spread that uses my Empyrean Key process to forge soul connections or heal deep wounds from past relationships. Enjoy!
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Mystery and Mastery

February 1st, 2012 . Posted in Reiki | 2 Comments »

At this time last year, I decided to join an organization called Shibumi International Reiki Association. This group was developed by Frans and Bronwen Stiene, who run the International House of Reiki and teach Usui Reiki Ryôhô, which is one of the Reiki lineages I am trained in. As a member, in addition to upholding the Vision, Mission and Philosophy of Shibumi, I also agreed to uphold their Codes of Practice, which includes, among a great many other things, the requirement that members not use the term Reiki Master. As the Shibumi website puts it, “The term Reiki Master is not utilized by Shibumi members due to the understanding that one does not master Reiki (spiritual energy).”

That’s simple enough and certainly makes sense. So why did I go through such inner turmoil over making the change?

I had worked hard to earn my title of Reiki Master. I took the first two levels as directed by my teacher, went through an emotional and energetic clearing process and regularly traded sessions with a friend. I didn’t pursue the Master and Teacher levels until almost two years after my initial training. I meditated regularly, practiced the precepts, worked with the symbols. I sought out monthly Reiki shares with other practitioners who shared my belief that Reiki was a quiet and meditative practice. Then three years later I trained again, this time in the Usui Reiki Ryôhô traditional Japanese style of Reiki. I constantly sought to learn more, experience a deeper connection to the Reiki energy, and become a better practitioner by stepping aside and allowing the energy to do the work.

And yet here I was, ego-attached to a word. A word that now had to be excised from my business cards, my website, my bios, my being. I didn’t want to give up that title! And of course that recognition is what made me realize how important it was to give it up.

I felt like I was losing a part of myself.

The Shibumi website suggested that I use the phrase Reiki Teacher instead. That was a bit of a relief, because the title of Teacher was always the highest level one could attain in Reiki. I pondered that carefully—in some ways it seemed to be the only thing that could smooth my ruffled ego.

But as I contemplated it further, I began to ask myself, what does it mean to be a master? If we say we’ve mastered something, doesn’t it usually follow that we have nowhere further to go? That we have accomplished all that there is to accomplish? I certainly did not feel that way about Reiki. I knew this path would continue to reveal much to me. In fact, isn’t that what I liked about teaching? I loved to teach because I always learned so much! To me, the title Teacher meant that I was always a student, always seeking, learning, revisiting, expanding. Quite the opposite of mastering! Yes, I thought, I can do this. I can leave behind the word master and call myself the perpetual student, secretly hidden in the verbal guise of Teacher.

I changed my business cards, website and bios. My being was lighter, stronger and more authentic now that the superfluous term of Master had been stripped away.

I should write a blog post on this amazing process I thought, and that way everyone will know that I’m actually a Reiki Master!

Luckily, I immediately recognized this sneaky little Hail Mary from the ego, and heroically restrained myself.

But now, a year later, I have gone to dozens of Reiki practice and meditation groups, meditated alone and with others, given four public Reiki talks, taught two Shoden classes, two Okuden classes, and two Shinpiden classes, worked with dozens of clients, said the precepts thousands of times, and received additional training. In each of my Shinpiden classes we had a discussion of what mastery is. Each group encouraged me to share my story.

What are you a master of? I asked my most recent Shinpiden students. “Eating. Showering.” One student laughingly replied. Then she went on, “You know when you’re in the middle of your shower, and you can’t remember if you did the conditioner or not?” We all laughed. She continued, “So I guess I’m not a master of showering. Not if I can’t always remember if I’ve conditioned or not.” Yeah, that’s it, isn’t it. Being fully present, every moment of every shower. And then eventually every moment of every day.

Shinpiden means “mystery teachings.” One of my students asked, what does that mean? What is the mystery?

The next week she said, “I know what the energy is for each of the first three symbols. I can feel that clearly. But what is the energy of the fourth symbol?”

I shared with her a quote from Morihei Ueshiba, the Founder of Aikido: “The Japanese term for birth is U-MU, consisting of the kototama U, ‘Being’ and MU, ‘Nothingness.’ That is, life springs forth when Form and Emptiness are in perfect balance.” The fourth symbol, I said, is the life that springs forth.

The energy of each of the first three symbols can be felt within our body’s energetic centers. But the energy of the fourth symbol expands beyond our limitations, arises from us, connects us, is more than us.

“Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.”

Like Donne to his three-personed God, we submit to the spiritual energy and it masters us. This is the mystery of the third degree of Reiki. This is the mystery of mastery.
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The Teller of Tarot

January 16th, 2012 . Posted in Tarot Philosophy, Tarot Techniques | No Comments »

This is excerpted from my in-progress book, Journey Through Tarot. The first time I taught my tarot class in the early 90s I called it Exploring the Tarot. My marketing materials at the time said you would “become the teller of the spoken image.” Shortly thereafter I named it Journey Through Tarot, and my flyers invited you to “learn the metaphorical language of the tarot.” Last year I began calling it The Magician’s Tools and started using the phrase, “read the cards with your unique, authentic tarot voice.” I’ve continually expanded the class over the years, but the exercises have stood the test of time, and are as popular, effective–and telling– now as they were then.

A friend of mine often tells me about her aunt, who “told the cards.”

A professional reader I know says he doesn’t know much about tarot, but he’s happy to tell you a story about the pictures on the cards.

Journey Through Tarot is about learning to find your unique voice as a teller of tarot.

Many tarot instructors teach tarot in the same way that Classics professors teach Latin. First, you are given a list of vocabulary to memorize. Then you are given a passage from an ancient text to translate. This method of learning foreign languages is efficient and time-honored. But it’s not the only way to learn an unknown language. Another highly effective way is called cultural immersion. In cultural immersion, you learn the language through everyday conversations and interactions with others who use it and with those who are also just learning it. Your grammar may not be as precise as a student who spends most of the lesson conjugating verbs, but the personal reward of being able to communicate with another person in a new way is immense.

In Journey through Tarot, you learn the metaphorical language of tarot through cultural immersion. You won’t start by memorizing the meanings of cards, but rather you will use the images on the cards to determine what they mean to you. Nor will you begin by laying out spreads and translating them like a classic text, but rather you will intentionally choose cards that have something to say to you—and use these tarot images to express your thoughts and ideas. In this course, you will learn tarot backwards. You will learn to speak with the cards first. And then when you begin to listen to them, you will see that they have so much more to say than the stuttering of memorized phrases.

There are a number of different ways to read a card. In Journey Through Tarot, these different methods are called guideposts. This book presents seven guideposts that point the way toward understanding the cards. Exercises and examples help you to learn and apply each guidepost.

From the beginning you will be using cards in groups, not singly. The interaction of the cards is at the very foundation of learning to read tarot. It’s the difference between the word “cat” and the phrase “a black cat.” “Cat” as part of the phrase “a black cat” cannot refer to a tabby cat or a calico cat or a Siamese cat, and likewise, by laying down two cards, they must necessarily form a meaning that is different from that of either one alone. But if this method sounds complicated, the beauty is that it’s not. Because the guideposts teach you to use the cards to speak, all you have to do is tell stories with the cards. The stories you tell—the work you do with the cards—is what teaches you tarot. You learn by applying your own experiences, knowledge and understanding to the cards.

So, if this method doesn’t rely on the academic memorization of card keywords, does that mean it’s intuitive? Many of the students of Journey Through Tarot have found that they feel their intuition is strengthened through these exercises. But reading tarot intuitively is not the goal of this course. These techniques teach you to interpret the symbolism of the card, just as an art history student learns to interpret art or an English major learns to interpret a poem. You may start with an intuitive response to the illustration on the card, but this technique teaches you to be aware of where within yourself those intuitions arise from and how you can test and verify them with knowledge you already have. Furthermore, the lessons in this book will introduce a variety of symbol systems, called systems of correspondence, so that your readings can be fine-tuned with new vocabulary from these various dialects. The method offered in this book is not about memorizing meanings, nor is it solely about learning to trust your instinct as to what a card means, but rather it empowers you to confidently tell the stories in the cards by providing simple, easy to follow guideposts that help you analyze the symbols in any card to find that card’s unique meaning.
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Dancing with Ganesha

December 29th, 2011 . Posted in Spiritual Practices | 2 Comments »

I have heard that meditating for 20 minutes with someone who has a stronger or different meditative practice than yours can initiate you into their level and style of meditation. I have found this to be true, having experienced a variety of longer meditations with several different partners. But I now know that it’s possible to receive this energetic instruction in less than 20 minutes. Earlier this month, I taught my mala class for the second year in a row. Because malas were developed as a Hindu tool for counting prayers, I always bring in a guest trained in Sanskrit mantra meditation to lead us in a meditation during class. This year my guest was someone who was experienced in devotional Hinduism. When this devotee of Krishna chanted one round of a mantra in praise of Ganesha, maybe ten minutes total, I stepped through a doorway into a new world of devotional worship.

What is devotional worship? The usual definition suggests that it is a private, not public, prayer or worship practice. But there’s more to it than that, an ineffable quality that is unique to the worshiper. Thefreedictionary.com sums it up nicely with their suggestion: “See synonyms at love.” YogaMax magazine says of Bhakti, or devotional, yoga: “It is Bhakti through which supreme love for God is experienced. This makes our heart to get purified by absorbing in God.” A Christian tract defines devotional worship as “a prayer format designed to provide an anointed atmosphere for meditation on scripture and for lingering in the presence of God.” Experiencing the love and presence of the Divine is to me the primary component of devotional worship.

At first, the mantra felt wrong as we began to chant it. It was much faster than I normally chant, and also higher pitched. I was certain that this was going to do nothing for me, but planned to practice it in my normal, slower pace at home. But as we continued, I gave myself over to the chant, and I was surprised at how effectively it worked. The faster, lighter quality of the sound and its rhythmic repetition carried me like a drumbeat to the place of inner vision. I saw Ganesha dancing, beckoning to me to join him. We only chanted a single round— which seemed absurdly short because I am used to doing 40-50 minute mantra meditations—but my experience was nevertheless profound and immediate.

The next day I did the same mantra, Om Gum Ganapatayei Namaha, three times through the mala and then went to make my tea and feed the cats. I continued chanting as I filled the kettle. Normally while the water boils and then the tea steeps, I do kitchen chores like putting the dishes away and loading the dishwasher. But this day Ganesha kept beckoning and calling, “Come sing and dance with me!” And I grabbed Fuzzy Kitten and danced with him around the living room and chanted. Luckily, I discovered that I could sing and dance and put the dishes away at the same time.

The third day I chanted the mantra four times around the mala and was set ablaze to work on the mala book I’m writing. This energy arose from a release that I experienced during the chanting. I have a five inch statuette of Ganesha on my altar and as I chanted, I gazed at the deity rather than keeping my eyes closed. I again saw the dancing, beckoning Ganesha, but now I saw an energetic cord anchor him to the statue. As I watched the statue, I saw his hand offered in the “fear not” gesture, and experienced a profound emotional release. I continued chanting throughout this release and regained my voice enough to carry on for the fourth round. Now I felt a very strong connection to this energy. In that one day I was so productive that I greatly expanded the outline for the book and designed five new prayer bead designs to include in it.

The energy of the Ganesha mantra is light and playful, very different from the deeper, blissful and rejuvenating but almost sleepy and remote energy of the Reiki jumon I normally work with and the other personal mantras I have developed. It occurred to me that my spiritual practice has always been about the magic of personal transformation or the search for unity and enlightenment. I feel like I have come very far with those two practices, but something was missing. Certainly I thought I just needed to continue to go deeper and practice longer. But this is my missing piece: a devotional practice.

I have been doing prayer, meditation and ritual work for connecting with the Higher for decades, but the traditions I’ve followed and the way I’ve engaged in my practice has focused on approaching Perfect Unity, which has no characteristics and all characteristics. By giving the Divine a personality–no longer the expression of the All but as manifested in the world, I gained an entirely new experience. My practice has always been to climb towards the Divine. Connecting with an admittedly limited but still Divine aspect of the Unlimited in a devotional way allows the Divine to come to me.
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Joy Vernon is a Reiki Practitioner and Teacher in Denver, Colorado. She is trained in two styles of Traditional Japanese Reiki: Usui Reiki Ryôhô and Komyo Reiki, as well as the Western-influenced Usui Tibetan tradition of Reiki. Joy is also a Certified Professional Tarot Reader. To schedule an appointment or for information on upcoming classes, please visit JoyVernon.com.

Page of Cups

December 26th, 2011 . Posted in Rants, Raves and Reveries, Reiki, Tarot and Reiki | No Comments »

I wrote this July 25, 2011 and didn’t post it because it didn’t have much of a point. But not everything does, does it? I hope this summer memory brightens your winter.

Sunday afternoon I went to the Botanic Gardens for the Japanese Tea Ceremony with some of my Reiki students and colleagues. I got there a little early, hoping to find a good spot to meditate in the gardens. I wandered around, eventually finding my way to the dragonfly pond in the Plains Garden. I sat on a bench at the edge of the pond, and began a breathing meditation. A large family passed by, and I opened my eyes, the better to maintain my focus with the noise and movement in my vicinity.

I slowly began to look around. Across from me, a waterfall cascaded into the pond. A man in the group of people excitedly pointed out that there was a turtle in the pond, and sure enough, I saw it swimming along, only the very tip of its nose poking above the surface of the water. Seeing the turtle was the passport I needed to become aware of the bustle of activity in the pond that had been just below my level of perception. Suddenly it was no longer a still, quiet pond, and I saw beautiful golden orange koi floating, dragonflies cavorting with each other, long-legged insects skimming the surface of the pond, and a sparrow swooping down and grazing the surface. I briefly thought, I wonder if one of those fish will come to talk with me. My perception firmly shifted to this natural realm, the passing of people now only barely registered, at the outskirts of awareness.

One of the goldfish had drifted closer to me, separated from the group. He was pointing straight at me, as if he were looking at me. I slowly shifted my focus to him, wondered if he was the one who would come and talk to me. I began to release the thoughts I had about fishes (especially Gollum related images, which I thought would scare the poor thing!) and focused on what it felt like to be a fish, the shape, the feel of the water, but just then he flicked his tail and turned away from me, and I withdrew my perception, which I think had gotten too close for comfort. But now I could see a tiny wisp of fin on his back and his diaphanous tail. I wondered if I had scared him away or if he would still come and talk to me.

I continued to quietly observe the pond, the dozens of colorful dragonflies, some of them electric blue, playing tag with each other in the air. I wondered if they were dragonflies or damselflies, but none ever touched down so I could see if its wings stayed open or closed. I saw the turtle again making slight ripples in the surface of the pond as he paddled around.

I looked down at my friend again. He had drifted a little closer. He had turned halfway back towards me and I could see his beautiful deep orange color with highlights of golden yellow scales at the side of his neck. I saw movement around him and for the first time noticed another fish, a dull brown color, the same drab color as the pond itself, swimming around him. I could only barely make her out; she blended in so perfectly with the water. At times I thought I was mistaking a ripple in the pond for another fish, but then she would flick her tail and spin away from the direction of the ripples caused by the waterfall. She continued to swim in circles around the bright orange fish. Had she always been there? What was she doing? He stayed perfectly still, as he had done for most of the time I was watching him.

The two fish continued to drift closer; I think the waterfall was causing a slight current that carried them towards me, although the main group of fish had stayed in the center of the pond. She continued to circle him, flicking her tail, turning away from him, flicking back, circling around. What was this dance, this ritual they performed?

I finally decided it was time to go. My gaze dropped to the water just in front of me, where before the skimming insects had walked the surface of the water, and right there, not a foot away from the edge of the platform my bench was on, a tiny little baby fish, the drab brown of the pond, mouthed at something on the surface of the water. Well, hello little one, I said. Have you come to talk to me? He was very small, only a couple inches long. He continued to open and close his mouth, kissing the surface of the water, so close to me.

I got up and walked down the path along the edge of the pond, crossing into the shade of the trees on the other side. As I walked over a wooden bridge, one of the electric blue flies landed on the edge of the rail for a fraction of a second before buzzing off again with its companion. Damselfly.
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Joy Vernon is a Reiki Practitioner and Teacher in Denver, Colorado. She is trained in two styles of Traditional Japanese Reiki: Usui Reiki Ryôhô and Komyo Reiki, as well as the Western-influenced Usui Tibetan tradition of Reiki. To schedule an appointment or for information on upcoming classes, please visit JoyVernon.com.

Completely Joyous

Connecting and Creating

The Fire Tends to All

Harnessing the Grand Trine in Earth

Paint a Journey with New Life

Intention-Attention-Connection

The Qabalah Tattoo

Mystery and Mastery

The Teller of Tarot

Dancing with Ganesha

Page of Cups

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