The Fool's calling

Dear you,

Today, I'm sharing with you a sample from my present, a tribute to transitions. This tipping point between two states, two cycles. And I'll return to them often because they are at the heart of what fascinates me and what, I believe, creates the living.

I know that many of us are experiencing significant and often destabilizing changes right now, reflecting everything happening globally.

In these shifts across our lives, the practicle and the symbolic, the personal and the universal, are intertwined. Many dimensions are woven in the intersection of our choices, actions and experiences.

I hope the following short story somehow echoes in you and creates a connection that inspires you.

Find a comfortable seat. Take deep breaths with me.

Tune in to your body sensations and allow the images to resonnate in you...

From my solitude to yours, together

© The Fool card, "The Light Seer's Tarot" by Chris-Anne

I stand in front of the empty storage unit.

For a few minutes, the back wall becomes a movie screen. A slideshow of memories tells me the story of those initiatory years. I look back, at peace now, at the events that kneaded me into a new person.

Generous grace, so delicately layed on days without expectations. Joyful impulses and hopes knowing no bounds. Wounds, too. The intensity of suffering and anxiety of separation in all its forms.

The emptiness that has taken over this life chapter brings with it a bittersweet sensation. At this moment, it would be impossible for me to claim that this all was necessary. Many times I have blessed heaven, as much as I have raged against it. Stoic, it remained faithful to its watch post, leaving me to my moods and all my practices. Life can't be explained.

It is.

It breathes.

Expanding, contracting... empty lungs, full lungs...

While these breaths lull me, the black and white film reveals the trace of a sun that has never set. A star also nourished by a breath. A totem encountered years ago, somewhere on a road in Kamouraska, Quebec. A sort of natural factory that takes care of dreams, while life does its work of kneading humans along the way.

Ushering back in the whispers of the essence that works incessantly, whether we hear it or not. The value of faith in uninterrupted guidance, in the magic of that which cannot be seen or explained and yet shines without interruption.

Which breathes.

Making itself forgotten at times, so that the wobblings can be experienced.

Before returning more and more perceptibly,

when the time is right,

in the guise of this Fool who, irremediably, will pull us towards the next stage of the adventure, whether we've been cruising comfortably for too long, or have barely had time to close the container doors.

There are no comprehensible rules. Only a call, hard to resist. A quivering, somewhere between excitement and fear.

Point zero where nothing exists and everything is possible. Where courage, curiosity, a thirst for more and a certain degree of airiness assemble to launch us into the unknown. Daring to step outside the box that has become too confining, with a sparkly faith as our bundle.

Honor to all our bursts of courage, wildly simple or excessive. All those times when we listen to the voice that says to us: "This is faded in you, follow me, I know where your next unfoldings are already budding."