By Sarah Taylor
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I will meet you there.
— Jalal al-Din Muhammad Rumi
Maybe it’s just my ishoo, but I have a hard time explaining tarot to people who are firmly situated in the tangible world — the ones who propound science over spirit, who might describe themselves as ‘left-brain’ instead of right, who talk of empirical evidence and reproducibility, and who often want proof, sometimes demanding it of me with a twinkle in their eye. Oh, and when I see that twinkle, I hope they’re up for a sparring match; they might as well be throwing down a gauntlet and asking me to meet them at dawn. And I can talk all night.
Because for all of the fact that I have a reputation of being — how to put it? — fey (The other day, a friend of mine helpfully told me that I was ever so slightly ‘birdies’ — you know who you are!), I am at pains to point out the utter normality of spiritual life and laws as they appear to me. There is, as quantum mechanics is demonstrating to us, a place where science and spirit meet. Take a look at the movie What the #$*! Do We (K)now!? for an introduction to this concept that is both entertaining and accessible, if a little twee at times. In the same way, there is a point where you and I can meet and talk and find a way that explains our own experience of the world in words that are meaningful to both of us. Words create meaning.
Which brings me to this: I’m not interested in talking in a dialect that alienates people who might feel they are lacking a sense of meaning in their lives, but have no idea where to start looking. I’m not interested in something that segregates people into ‘us’ and ‘them’, those who are ‘evolving in consciousness’ and everyone else who isn’t, those who belong to the new paradigm versus those who belong in the old, those who are going to be moving forward and those who are going to be left behind. In therapy, this is a mechanism known as splitting, where we unconsciously project something undesirable in us onto a suitable — and preferably separate — receptacle, while putting all the ‘good stuff’ in a place with which we more closely identify.
Splitting reflects a state of internal division. As defenses go, it is common. It is whether we are willing and able to become conscious of it that is critical. It is the difference between maintaining that division, which will continue to be reflected in our outer experience, or taking steps to integrate and become whole. We all want to be angels, but how many of us are willing to say we are also demonic? How uncomfortable is that phrase to read, because it was somewhat uncomfortable to write it? How uncomfortable is it for each of us to embrace what we fear? And how often is that reflected in the language that we use and the paradigms of meaning in which we choose to operate?