Ace of Wands. Interesting how this card manages to so obviously signify male genitalia; and not, at the same time. Sunflowers produce huge quantities of seed, but the inclusion of them, along with the upright baton, softens, draws the eye from the obvious genital reference. The wand, the baton in this pack, says badge of office to me, although of a very old-

fashioned kind. Black Rod in the British Parliament carries such an instrument and dresses in a costume that dates at least from the eighteenth century. Modern day equivalents of the wand, the baton, are anything that confers status, labels someone I suppose. Status symbols. The batons in this suite might be construed as a representation of any class symbol, but its only true of this pack. The wands in the Waite Smith tarot are staves and don't say the same thing to me at all. Status symbols. Isn't everything? Everything’s a tool, and tools are often but not always social standing signifiers. People evaluate themselves, more or less, by what they own, the work they do, how they speak, what they speak about and don’t speak about. Everybody has an ego, but everybody and everything has some kind of plus or minus quality attached, sometimes monetary, which of course is a tool and a status symbol and has plus and minus qualities depending on how it was acquired, and whose opining. I've opened a door. Inside are so many images to look at, write about, I feel somewhat overwhelmed, although I’ve a very strong sense of understanding what I see, but I'm too lazy to make the effort to write it all down. Not considered this matter before. It really is a vast and deep issue. Humans judge and evaluate everything, including judging and evaluating; and even the way people judge and evaluate, and who they judge, evaluate is connected to social standing. I always appraise according to how I feel about stuff, about people, so less and more doesn't generally come into these things for me. May not particularly want to be involved with an individual or want something, but that doesn't mean I see the individual or the object as inferior, etc.

Two of Wands. 'He's got the whole world in his hands. In his hands he's got the whole world.' Remember that song so clearly.(It might be my earliest memory of television.) Recall watching Laurie London singing on a black and white mahogany box at the maternal grandparents house. He was a teenager. Very high voice, like it wasn't broken, or fully broken. Can recall the auntie (she was the same age as me) and

I, singing along the way kids do. Interesting how young kids latch onto a tune. Interesting how young that feeling for a song starts. It's so pure in children. Such a delicious feeling, as a , hearing a loved song. That sense of delight at the sound of the prized tune. Lucky me I never lost it. (Can see my godson at seven, singing along to ‘Search for the hero inside’, a look of pure rapture on his face, and then his face exploding into shining delight because he opened his eyes and saw me watching him, singing along to the song, possibly a similar look on my face, ‘cos I love that song as well.) So! Some possibilities. Television. Grandparents. Me as a child. That phrase. 'He's got the whole world in his hands'. What does it mean? Suppose its a variation on the world is your oyster; or king of the world. Got a feeling it may have been some kind of Christian song; that the he who had the whole world in his hands was God. Anyway, the kid in the picture is well dressed, healthy looking. Teenager, twenty something, and that’s a point in life, time of such opportunity. Opportunities that can be realised because of physical health. (Did so much in my young life, primarily and simply because I was so healthy, so strong, and of course didn't understand or appreciate it at the time). The opportunities that are available to young and healthy people, young and healthy and western wealthy people. Went to art school as a mature student. All the kids had personal stereos, mobile phones, and most of them complained endlessly about how hard up they were. Took me such a long time to grow out of poverty consciousness, start seeing that because of my acumen, organisational skills, and because I lived in Britain at that time in the 20th century, (the access wealth of the western world), I could not be considered poor. 98% of the world's population were worse of than me. Perspective is all.

Three of Wands. Lot going on here; for I. Maybe not for anyone else; and at this moment, I’m aware, apart from a few words, I’ve no idea what's to come, but I'll just keep writing and see what. Really like the colour scheme. The reds and gold's; and I've just realised why I find them attractive. Was a time in this life, which went on for about seven years, when I wore all shades of red and

orange, and what would have been seen as a necklace, by outsiders, with a picture of Bhagwan Shri Rajneesh embedded in the locket. This was the requisite apparel for the followers of the aforementioned Bhagwan . God; wearing those colours pressed the buttons. Have a feeling not a single expectation of mine, pessimistic expectation of others, did not become manifest, more pronouncedly than ever, because of those colours. Had been for so long, as far as I was concerned, anti religion and mixed with folk who were fiercely so. To apparently then get religion, or what certainly looked like religion to me, and to them, put me fiercely on the spot, on the defensive; although it took some years to understand that. Defensiveness. Now there's a tale. Could never though have come to understand how much identity is connected to the clothes we wear unless I’d gone thought that. How much the way we dress, connects us to groups, some groups, personal groups and how much changing that, particularly as radically and noticeably as I did affects our lives. Became excruciatingly, unwittingly self-conscious and it affected how I behaved towards people and friends, which in turn affected the way they behaved , and they were already acting differently because I'd changed my appearance. Can see now they would have been riding two horses at once, torn between treating me as a stranger and the person they knew. Could go on for pages and pages on this one, but that's the end and I just did not see this coming when I raised the card .

Four of Wands. Bit blank. Usually take one look and I'm fired to write; but nothing comes this morning. Strain. Strain. Its close enough to the Waite Smith version for me to see that mingled with it, and I know what I would say about that (rite of passage ceremony.) and this doesn't give that message to me. They’re on stage, giving a performance. (That came out, just in that moment, from nowhere.

Nice experience.) They are performers. The stage, in the open air, looks to me like its in the Highlands, (and things unfold.) Purpose built I bet. (Out in the open, up in the hills. ) Must be a very special dance. A commissioned dance for some one who some people see as important. It's also an expression of art is it not? The dancers are so graceful. The artist who produced the cards has conveyed that. Must take years for dancers to develop that level of skill. I admire that, admire people who commit themselves to developing artistic skill, or any skill really. We put on a performance for people do we not? Uncomfortable feeling. Most people most of the time put on a performance for most people most of the time. Starts young. With the kindest and most sensible of parents. We are asked, expected to act in certain ways, put on a performance, even it does go against that which we want to do. (No judgements. It's the human condition) However else do we get near learning best practice as fledgling humans. Not some cruel conspiracy. But we don't just learn the specific behaviour do we, we also learn to be submissive, or not, around people who are apparently more powerful, a way of functioning that will stay with us until we do something about it. God this is rambling, a struggle to get anything out, but I always feel good when I manage to fill a tight lined A4 page, and once again I’ve managed to.

Five of Wands. Something stylised here, and playful. In fact it could even be a scene from a play, dance production, and it also makes me ponder on the way lads carry on together; and I'm not talking about drunken barbarian men, just straightforward 'lads', larking around, enjoying each other's company. Playful competitiveness. Sparring. Badinage. Not occurred to me before but the image is a statement about competitiveness; and that covers a

spectrum of behaviour, from the most barbarous violence at one extreme, to playing Monopoly at the other I suppose. Competitiveness at its best is always balanced with competition. In fact in team sports the members of a team cooperate with their fellows to compete against the other line-up. At its most extreme I presume, naked competitiveness is part of every violent confrontation. At some simple level all wars are a competition, unconscious of course, as is most competitiveness. At another level it staggers me how often perfectly ordinary discussions, which might prove fruitful, rewarding even, deteriorate into what I call the last world game, amongst women as much as men, although that obviously isn’t remotely as dangerous as violent physical conflict. Might argue though that the great part of what happens in society is co-operation in fact. At a simple level of folk cooperating about driving on the same side of the road, following clock time, calendar time. Some people obviously have to be made to cooperate, or put aside because they won't, yet most so comfortably go about their lives cooperating with so much, and not in a sheep like way, but from some kind of understanding about how life enhancing it is, although I might well be accused of being over optimistic on that one. Interestingly enough in my experience some of the most aggressively competitive people I've come across have been left wing and right wing ‘idealistic’ critics of the society they live in. This is new territory for me. Not something I’ve been particularly aware of before. Competitiveness. Cooperation

Six of Wands. Heroic figure or what? The Chariot in the Major Arcana is usually seen as representing the hero archetype, but this, in an almost Disney like way, roars hero. He's all the male leads in Disney cartoons. The handsome prince. Heroes and heroines. Was always drawn to those kind of figures in books, as a child. Suppose I still am really; but from a different perspective of course.

President Bartlett in the West Wing, and his staff. Joan of Arc. Queen Elizabeth the first of England. Ned, of 'Under Drakes Flag' by G.A.Henty. Jesus was a hero figure to me when I was very young, before I really took on board all that Christian poison; that one has to work so hard to get past. Lancelot. Arthur. Galahad. A very attractive male archetype, with all those characteristics of honour and decency, courage. Steadfastness, fortitude, sensitivity. A big package. A lot to hold together. It's a bit of a synthesis of 'masculine’ traits and 'feminine’ traits, is it not? Balls of steel, and sensitive with it. Always been drawn to down to earth women with balls who get girly and I suppose I like guys who are bit the same really. Can't abide ‘all men are bastards feminists‘, but equally loathe aggressive violent men whose response to everything is to use the fist. ‘All men are bastards feminists’ always seem to me be much the same, just not backed up with the physical strength, and its usually wrapped in a sugary middle class accent which hides its poison. Mentioned the latter because of course heroes and heroines need monsters to struggle against, to be heroes and heroines.

Seven of Wands. Comics, an engaging phenomena, have drawn a lot of attention from me recently. It's the second time its happened in my adult life, and now, online exploring gives it a whole new focus. The first time was triggered by opening Craig Thompson's 'Blankets', when browsing in Waterstones. At that point in life hadn't read one, apart from Calvin and Hobbs; Bloom County (Both fantastic) since I was about

twelve; and went off on a jag, working through as many as my wallet would allow, and eventually getting these incredibly battered copies from the library, until that enthusiasm ran its course and I went on a non-fiction (mostly) binge. A couple of friends, in response to my enthusiasm, said they’d found it near impossible to actively read comics, couldn’t take in the information in that format, and I realised that because, during a long spell of dealing with a pierced eardrum, I’d been watching television with the sound down ,reading subtitles, and had, I presume, re developed right brain activity in relationship to left brain even more. (Am right brain dominant) and so had unwittingly redeveloped the ability to devour comics as easily as the standard format. The second jag started before Christmas, because I stumbled on a site of image's celebrating EC Fifties comic art, which I recalled reading, and which had been loaned to me by an American lad whose father was a friend of my parents when we lived in Malta, in the early Sixties, and then, out of curiosity, looked at a few torrent sites and discovered gigabyte upon gigabyte of all these original comics, uploaded by aficionados. You can guess the rest. An Aladdin's cave of comics. The extraordinarily interesting graphics provide and describe so succinctly, precisely, the setting and cast, what they're up to, as in every picture is worth a thousand words, and so much can be told so easily, so precisely. Anyway this particular card reminds me of a graphic version of ‘Kidnapped‘, which was serialised in the Fifties, on the back of the Topper, if I recall rightly. Was hugely into comic's in those days, like most kids,( pre mass availability of television in the UK) and my parents were mostly always willing to supply me with pretty much as much as I could read and I could put them away. So there you go. A little ramble on comics. Enjoy! Comics that is.

Eight of Wands. Noticed I was going to have to find something to say about this last night, which I try to avoid because I rather like to roll up to them unprepared. It's a card which I can make an effort over and never have any insight, no matter which version I’m looking at. This is a very pleasing image though; and unlike these cards generally it's only on the cusp of pretty, appeals more because of that. The staves, or wands

interest me; evocative of wizards and warlocks; Gandalf's and Merlin’s as they are. As I turned it up this morning had a picture of Yuri Gagarin and the dog that preceded him into space come to me. Am not actually sure if it isn't only a memory of a memory. Rather vague on all this, which is unusual. Got vague shadowy pictures in my imagination of the guys on the moon, from that first time; and again I'm not sure if it's not a memory of a memory. Slightly disconcerted, although not sure why. Maybe because I went through a brief spell a year or so ago when I would struggle occasionally to pluck a word out of my head when in full articulating mode, which was a mixture of frustrating; and freaking , and which, fortunately didn't last . Generally have an incredibly strong ability to bring to mind, indeed see pictures in a way that I realise now has often surprised me; but I've a feeling I'm not so hot on public events. Generally far too caught up in, typical introvert, and always have been, with my own immediate life, reactions and responses to it, that goes to make up my psyche. Public events inevitably pass me by unless they are really major in your face phenomena. Have definitely been aware of the banking crisis, but I suspect it's only because a lot of people in the public sphere show signs of being frightened by what’s been going on. Like anyone, they have their moments of paranoia; so how much attention to their pronouncements should I give. Have also been hugely aware of Barak Obama winning the American Presidency and being very uplifted and moved by that. So there you go. Another page filled.

Eight of Wands. A part of me holds back from writing about something as personal as the following, and more importantly, something as personal which is still so immediate, so relevant, still to some extent being dealt with. Almost a year ago, year and a half, I posted a response to something somebody said at a forum. That response was unequivocally positive, no reason

for it to be anything else. No reason for what followed to ensue. Finished writing, posted the remarks and stood up to make coffee; felt something, which at that moment I didn't even recognise as familiar, let alone recognise, and something shifted (Interesting to write about it, because it enables me to understand how much I’ve moved on) and I became still, stopped breathing, the breath taken from me by the shock of what I’d understood in that brief moment of no mind, before I began to articulate the understanding, the recognising. First of all I acknowledged that the feeling was a familiar one, that it had always been a part of my life, that I had been seemingly, for ever, in the habit of dealing with it, by ignoring, resisting, as though it was someone I didn't want to be involved with, who wouldn't leave me alone, and that feeling was defensiveness. I could not recall a time when I had not felt it. I associated it with the father. Came to realise I must have moved on because I didn't feel defensive about feeling defensive and then over the weeks and months that followed came to see it again and again. Associated with this, with that; and then realised I contained an oilfield of defensiveness. It bled into everything and having started to acknowledge, face it, it begins to fade, exercise so much less power.

Ten of Wands These Robin Wood cards are a direct variation of the Waite Smith pack, mostly mediaeval imagery, or that which was seen as such in the early part of the 20th century, when the cards were first produced; and on reflection it's pretty obvious that Pamela Coleman Smith would have been influenced by the art that was available in London. Plenty of it ‘medieval imagery.’ The scenes are so appealing are they not?

Picture postcard stuff, still in use in the early part of the 21st century, and yet the appeal of the prettiness seems to me to hide the reality of life portrayed, the hardship of the life being lived in this picture, the physical hardship; and so many people the 21st century, away from the West, still live lives of such extraordinary physical adversity compared to how we exist. I’m no longer that physically strong because of the way various ailments have affected my ability to maintain strength and stamina, although I still look as though I am, but I could not survive if I had to live a life which involved carrying these staves in this way, without the aid of technology Recall an odd conversation with a guy whilst waiting for a bus, about wearing spectacles, and he said he wouldn't wear his because they were a crutch. Well I wouldn't even get into this; and as I said we were waiting for a bus at the time; and the obvious riposte would have been to point that out, but that then led me to pondering how we take these things for granted, how much technology is an extension of our physical ability, how tools enable us to do things way beyond our immediate physical capabilities. The wonder of technology. Been a bit of a Luddite at times (Some silly trip.) and it's not uncommon for people in the West to decry technology, usually car owners, and the damage people in the Third World do to their environment( You know! The car owner who doesn't smoke bitching at the smoker who doesn't own a car), but it seems to me technology, if used as an extension of our physical capabilities is a gift, but when we use it to augment our egos, and we do, as a way of making statements regarding how we want others to see us, that's when the problems start. Its ego that’s pernicious, not technology. Not objects, things.

Page of Wands. Surveyor working with a partner, in busy streets, or not. See that regularly and never have a clue as to what they’re actually doing, so calling them that is an assumption. Surveyors. Folk in streets. Familiar strangers. All that’s going on around us; that we almost never remark upon, and assumption. Well surveyors I've mentioned as part of what goes on

around, in the city, that passes unremarked. The nameless individual with a beard, wrapped in a sleeping bag, on a sheltered spot by a wall. I walked by him last night and have only just considered the moment. He asked me for money. Didn’t respond. Gave him money a week ago. Those two blokes I noticed in that pub on the quay side, sitting very quietly in the tiny place, pints in front of them, either with nothing to say, or they had just hit a lull in the conversation as I passed. The girl talking in a loud high-pitched voice on a mobile at the bus stop. So much goes on. All the obvious landmarks, familiar places; and in fact I was in heightened awareness last night. Recently began to walk along the canal, at the back of the mailbox, in the dark. The vista that opens as I cross that narrow metal bridge, especially at night, is terrific, and the sound of shoes ringing as I make my way down to the canal is something else I was aware of that didn't trigger remarks. Broken ice is scattered across the black water, which also catches vague reflections of red brick and lights, lights gleaming on water, and ice, and a sense of space hits me because the locale is filled by canal and not traffic laden road. Started to do the walk recently, with a vague sense of wariness, although not very strong. Never come across any louts around that domain; and I've been doing it more frequently so the picture I hold in my imagination gets detailed; and the overall image of the city connects to it, gets more intense and in fact, far from not commenting I’m at a stage of beginning to assimilate it into my life; and so remark regularly. A beautiful part of the city and increasingly enjoyed.

Queen of Wands. Clothes and identity. Yes! That’ll do! Can see more than that, so had to choose. ( Not overly keen on this pack. Find the colours rather sugary, the imagery somewhat twee, but have to say that they are evocative.) God she's overdressed. I mean I've seen men who overdress, but it's usually too smart clothes, in the wrong place. That out of date look. Seen a number

of folk on buses recently and I've noticed the clothes they wear; realised, in particular the other day, that the woman was so stylish, so expensively dressed she looked old-fashioned. Suppose partly because individuals nowadays wear plain comfortable smart casuals mostly, and she was dressed in a way that was high fashion years ago , and all the clothes were new. Saw someone in Kings Heath last year and the notion that she was in disguise (That's not meant unkindly. Was an insight that led me to considering how I've been about clothes at various times in life) People use clothes creatively, and creatively in its finest sense, but also to compensate for lack in their life, an addiction it seems to me; to present themselves in a certain way, to make statements. To hide the self that we think we are and we can't accept. (blindingly obvious I know, but these are musings, not the ten commandments) Always saw myself as such a geek when I was a teenager and desperately wanted to be cool. (LOL.. Actually may have been much cooler than I realised, which is really funny.) By the time I got to art school I didn't care anymore and recall an occasion, while waiting for a friend, an acquaintance stopped and remarked how cool I looked. I replied 'Who cares!' and he said to that,' Exactly'. Yes. Clothes. Identity. Indeed!!!1

Knight of Wands. Fire horse. That's what stands out. The fire horse. The rider’s not in control of all that energy, or barely. ( http://typelogic.com/enfp.html) People like that have such potential, but its hard to engage with those energies and use them well. Came across such an individual soon after I went online. Extreme case (Don't see him in the Waite Smith version. ) Being online has been most tremendously

interesting, rewarding; and an ongoing play learning process. By and large the horror stories that I’d heard haven't materialised. Came across a number of people I would have liked to have got to know better. Share a coffee with. Spend some face to face time in the company of; and most people seem to me to fit within what I know of people, seem to me to fit within the spectrum of people I am familiar with, I have come across in my life; and I’ve been around. The spectrum has been widened to some extent, including one or two, who, from my viewpoint, seem to have more depth than I’ve come across, and at the other end of the spectrum, in particular, the individual represented by this card. He’s disappeared over the last year or so, but from the point I came across him his presence became more intrusive, peaking in the last twelve month, when his megalomania finally manifested in a situation with a moderator with balls, and a few other people with balls, who were not prepared to submit to him. At the point, when the challenge to him began to really manifest, (I’ve never come across such hysterical protracted rage in my life.) it was like facing a tank, an out of control tank. First experience of him was when he unleashed 50 posts, non stop, on an unmoderated board, because someone had disagreed with him, and the disagreement was put in a completely reasonable unaggressive manner. There were many incidents that followed. I caught him in a lie and questioned him about it and he likened me to the pure evil of a Hitler. When he finally starting to come up against a number of folk who wouldn't put up with his behaviour, where he got seen off, at one point he suggested they were CIA plants and there to interfere with what was going on. In some ways it's really funny, but also incredibly intrusive. The bigger the gap between what an individual is, and what she thinks she is, the more trouble to deal with, and with this particular individual there is no overlap between what he thinks he is and what he actually is. Certainly a new extreme in my personal experience.

King of Wands. Reckon this is a painting of a photograph of a guy dressed up. Almost certainly a friend of hers. Looks a nice bloke. Great colours. Don't seem as intense; overwhelming as they could be. Incredibly pleasing. Always appealed, the idea of a fancy dress party, or something like that, and the only memory I have of it happening was when I had one as a

thirteen year old, where we lived in Malta. (Good God. I’d forgotten about that.) Can picture it clearly. Almost feel the temperature of that summer, late afternoon. It was warm, still light. Have no memory of what I wore, but can envisage a girl called Jane, in a black plastic bag dress. Wonder if Vivian Westwood was at the gathering . Wonder if that’s where she got the idea? Suppose everything we ever did is in there, in the memory. In the brain. That's triggered recollections of another two parties I went to in Malta, and more. Was the little blond boy with glasses that the posh girls didn't like, although the ordinary decent girls liked me well enough. Another connection. As a child I was liked by some and not by others, a spectrum of responses. So obvious really Same, is it not, for everyone? Being popular, having a sense of being popular is so important to children. They go through hell if they get the idea they’re not liked. Mind you, some adults go through hell if they get the idea they’re not liked. It's a real playoff is it not? Balancing the need for individuality against the need for inclusion, being part of the community, and it seems to me the only time its possible to have both is in the early stages of a group forming, the honeymoon phase. Then the pecking order battles are just beginning, because once that stage is over things become more and more rigid. Am always rather loath to be so negative, but that particular idea stands up to examination based on my life's experience.