Recently, I was asked what I meant by "creating our own stories" with the Bloom Where You're Planted Oracle deck? How do we use cards to create a story about our life? About the time and place where we find ourselves?
When I worked on this deck, my mind followed the path laid out by Sharon Blackie, psychologist, writer, mythologist. With her book, Foxfire, Wolfskin, I realized that I can create my stories. I can make my own myths and my own meaning.
Sharon Blackie spent most of her life living and putting down roots in the places that hold magic and myth for her: Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. Those places are not my places, but why shouldn't I be able to find my own meaning in my places?
*************************************************************************
Violet stood outside the ancient door, loud music pulsating out in bursts as the door flew open and then drifted slowly shut against the force of the air conditioning. She clutched her handful of menus gingerly, trying not to wrinkle them, but feeling the sweat from her palms seeping into the edges of the parchment-colored sheets.
She tried to make eye contact with passersby as she called out the name of the restaurant. "Eat on Bourbon," she urged.
Her boss poked his out of the door just long enough to hand her another mountain of menus and to instruct her "to go on walk about".
She cradled the stack of papers carefully in the crook of one elbow while she scooped up the huge swatch of her hooped skirts to avoid a suspicious-looking puddle in the middle of the sidewalk.
She navigated to the shady side of the street as even in early spring, the mid-morning New Orleans sun promised brutal heat for the hours ahead. She moved slowly down Royal Street, her skirts streaming behind her as the oncoming pedestrians navigated carefully around her. She parted the sea of people before her, even as she urged them silently to just take one of the menus.
No one met her seeking eyes, as if she were somehow not there, despite the purple majesty of her hooped gown. Somehow, she'd been seduced by the historic glamor of the costume and the promise of twice the hourly wage she could earn anywhere else.
"Eat on Bourbon," she chirped as a pitying older woman took one of the preferred menus under the sheltering shade of an overhead balcony. Violet knew that the kindly woman would most likely deposit the menu in the closest garbage can as soon as she'd walked half a block, but Violet was relieved just to be handing them out.
By the time Violet made a long circuit down a succession of French Quarter streets, she'd managed to unload most of her menus. Those people who met her eyes seemed amused by the incongruity of the over-the-top purple dress with its full hooped skirts; a throwback to a history that most would just as soon pretend never happened.
At home, she peeled off the shiny fabric as it clung to her damp, overheated skin. The heavy folds fell to her feet in discarded petals of purple fabric. She liked that she finished her shift early in the day, leaving her time for other interests and activities.
Dressing in yoga pants and a loose dark tank, after her much-needed shower, Violet marveled that she would gain more visibility on her way to yoga class than she'd had all morning. The hunger of the male gaze would devour her utilitarian outfit even as the bygone glamor of the hooped skirt rendered her invisible to their eyes.
She tucked her yoga mat carefully under her arm as she carefully secured the three locks on her door. Mentally, Violet planned out her route to the yoga studio, reflecting on the streets that could get her there with as little attention or interaction as possible. She would not be eating on Bourbon, although she'd be back at it tomorrow, deflecting all eyes from her swath of purple fabric.
***************************************************************************
I knew this girl. In college, she took the summer job of wearing a heavy, hoop skirted dress while she handed out menus to a restaurant. I don't know if that restaurant still exists or if young women are still taking this summer job.
The Violet signifies modesty as if the pretty fragrant flower would just as soon we not notice it as it blooms so sweetly.
My Bloom Where You're Planted Oracle Deck Kickstarter campaign launches on May 3rd. Please sign up for the notification of the launch as the more people that sign up, the better the campaign pre-launch page works with the crowdfunding algorithm.
Your support means so much to me and I would never have gotten this far without you. Thank you for continuing to support me in all my crazy new projects and new artwork!
Comments