What to Hold Onto Going Into The Week?

Quicksand, wands, and swords

Cards for the week — Photo by author

Last week, I asked the tarot deck a simple question:

What should I hold onto going into the week?

It was our first week of housesitting. The house sits on the outskirts of a small town, and life feels quieter than it does in the city or on the road.

I arrived sick with a fever. My partner, Fabien, arrived impatient.

The cards we picked were surprisingly on the nose. Both featured characters holding an object.

The Six of Wands

The Six of Wands is a card associated with success, milestones, and applause. But because of the way I phrased my question, I focused on the image instead.

The rider is moving forward, holding a wand.

I became less interested in the crowd and more interested in the grip.

Because my question was limited to the coming week, I also kept my definition of success small.

I have a tendency to imagine finish lines. Stories already written. Projects already completed. It’s a useful visualization exercise, but it also creates pressure.

Instead, I interpreted the card as a reminder to focus on small wins. To look at what’s in my hand, not beyond it.

To be okay with writing only a hundred words.

To sleep an extra hour without feeling guilty.

I was sick, after all.

The Ace of Swords, Reversed

Fabien’s card showed a hand emerging from a cloud, holding a sword.

The Ace of Swords is about clarity. Cutting through noise. Seeing things as they are.

Except his card appeared reversed.

To me, it suggested not reacting to every thought. Sometimes just holding the sword is enough. He doesn’t have to poke at every question that enters his head.

Yet, on two occasions, we both failed to heed our card readings.

We forgot.

Life happened.

We spiraled.

The Quicksand

The quicksand is when we not only see darkness, but drag everything and everyone into it with us.

For Fabien, there’s a time of day when he tends to get stuck in his head. Usually between noon and 2 p.m.

He starts opening doors in his mind.

It begins innocently enough.

What do I do with my time now? How should I organize my day? Why am I struggling with simple tasks? Will I ever change? What’s wrong with me? Am I that inept? What the hell am I doing here anyway?

One question opens another door, then another, then another, until the house becomes an infinite hallway.

I get pulled into his mini-crisis. I try to help him see that he’s being irrational, but it’s hard to listen when you’re waist-deep in quicksand.

Usually, movement is the solution for him.

A hike. A jog. Anything that gets us out of the house and back into the world.

My quicksand is triggered by my lack of productivity.

It happened the day after his.

I woke up to find him already active. He had been up before me and was already checking things off his list.

I got annoyed for sleeping in.

Then I got jealous of him for multitasking.

Getting bogged down in administrative work for most of the morning didn’t help.

In that moment, I went quiet.

My mind started spiraling.

I imagined never accomplishing anything in this country house. And if I couldn’t accomplish anything here, with so few distractions, how would I accomplish anything when life became busy again?

We chose this place to simplify our lives. To focus on our creative pursuits.

Me, with my writing.

Him, with his music.

Yet fear has a way of disrupting the flow.

While Fabien goes outward with his meltdown, I go inward. I go silent.

I think the quicksand is an old part of us that never really leaves. Jung might have called it the Shadow. We know we’re spiraling. We know it’s temporary. Yet, in the moment, it feels permanent. The deeper we sink, the harder it becomes to remember the way out.

My silence eventually drives Fabien crazy.

Finally, he pries a word out of me. The word becomes a sentence. The sentence becomes a conversation.

The more I talk, the lighter I feel. Sometimes that’s all it takes.

For him, movement breaks the spiral.

For me, talking breaks the silence.

And there is a lesson here, one that brings me back to the week’s reading.

The cards weren’t predicting the week.

They were preparing us for it.