I wrote a poem a few weeks ago when I was reflecting on House of Leaves and the phenomenom of echolalia. In particular, this idea of involuntary repetition made me think about tarot cards.1 If you draw the same cards repeatedly, the cards represent lessons that you are not learning, mistakes that occur again and again.
When I used to read tarot cards, once upon a time, the card that I used to draw for myself was Temperance. My first deck was a Greek mythology tarot, and the Temperance card was one of the most beautifully illustrated cards in that set. I never quite understood what this card meant for me when I used to read, as I didn't think of myself as a particular intemperate person. I haven't touched the cards in about six years now, for one reason or another. A good friend gave birth about two weeks ago to a beautiful baby boy, and she has asked that I do a reading for him, so I pulled out one of my decks and started to see where the cards would take me. I dealt a Celtic Cross reading, which is a reading of ten cards where the first card represents the querent. What is the first card I draw? Temperance, naturally. I guess I haven't changed as much as I think I have.
1I should point out that my use of tarot cards is/was very casual, and that I'm mostly interested in the imagery of the tarot (which is relevant to an English scholar) and its meditative qualities rather than any fortunte telling. The artwork of tarot cards is fascinating to me, and I have a couple of tremendously beautiful decks, including the Vertigo Tarot, which features characters from DC Comics' Vertigo line, and is illustrated by Dave McKean, who is enormously talented, dark, and twisted. There's also a Salvador Dali deck that I quite covet (which is worth about $200, which is why I don't own it).
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