First – I stole this from Amy Ruttan’s Blog:
You are The Hierophant
Divine Wisdom. Manifestation. Explanation. Teaching.
All things relating to education, patience, help from superiors.The Hierophant is often considered to be a Guardian Angel.
The Hierophant’s purpose is to bring the spiritual down to Earth. Where the High Priestess between her two pillars deals with realms beyond this Earth, the Hierophant (or High Priest) deals with worldly problems. He is well suited to do this because he strives to create harmony and peace in the midst of a crisis. The Hierophant’s only problem is that he can be stubborn and hidebound. At his best, he is wise and soothing, at his worst, he is an unbending traditionalist.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
Hmmm – I used to teach, so it is interesting that education comes up. I like the phrase ‘bring the spiritual down to Earth.’ Not sure why but it seems to suit. Stubborn and hidebound. Um, yeah, probably. Wise and soothing, I can only hope, and yes, I’ve seen signs of ‘unbending traditionalist’ though I try hard not to be – you’ll see why in a minute. And I love the pictures – considering I’m currently writing about a shapeshifting dragon.
I’ve been writing furiously on this latest futuristic paranormal erotica story. It’s really coming together well, and I’m quite pleased. I’m at 11,000 words currently – and that’s since May 14th when I wrote 4,000 words. Usually I try to average 2,000 words, and yesterday I got up to 1500 words when I just HAD to break off because the kitchen cupboards were in a desperate state. So I dashed out for groceries, taking my youngest son with me, figuring I’d dive right back in when I got back.
File under Coincidences I can do without …
Well, you know that old adage about the best laid plans? I didn’t get any more writing done. Why? I ran into my parents. It’s the first time I’d seen them since May 11, 2000. In a very bizarre coincidence, I just happened to be shopping in the exact same aisle at the exact same store at the exact same time as my mother. She walked by, and I did a double take and had to make a quick decision as to whether to approach her or not. I’m not going to get into why it’s been so long – it’s a long and very convoluted story. But I decided to be adult and not run away, to at least say hi, and leave it to her whether she’d acknowledge me or not. I had my doubts, and it was a tough decision to make.
She did. Like me, she did a double take and there was a moment of awkwardness, but she said hi back and then hugged me and said that everything was her fault and she was so sorry for what had happened. That was nice to hear.
And then my father appeared at the end of the aisle – he took one look at me and turned on his heel. Well, that was no surprise. That’s exactly how he reacted the last time I saw him too – in fact my mother’s uncle, who was with us as we were walking down the streets of London, couldn’t help but laugh at his behaviour. And that urge struck me yesterday because, quite frankly, I realize that I was glad I’d approached Mum, otherwise I would have been as silly as he behaved that afternoon.
Mum and I talked, I was nearly in tears and found it hard to talk, and since she’s nearly deaf, I’m not sure how much she understood of what I was saying, but I made her promise to stay in the store until I got my youngest son for her to meet. I went to fetch Curly and brought him to her where she went speechless. The last time she’d seen him he was a little 9 year old boy. Now he’s taller than everyone in the family, with a scruffy beard, and a deep voice. He’s a man, no boy. And she’s missed all those years that she’ll never get back.
I helped her out to the car with her groceries, and the whole time I saw Dad hanging around at the far end of the aisles, peeking around corners and ducking out of sight if he saw me look in his direction, then lurking around the largest SUV’s and trucks in the parking lot as if I wouldn’t see him. Finally, as she closed the trunk, he dashed over, unlocked the car and got in, closing the door behind him, totally ignoring not only me, but his grandson.
Curly was wonderful – he knew I was upset, and though he was meeting … well, basically someone he didn’t really know, he refused to leave me, stayed by my side the whole time and then made sure I was okay to drive home. He’s a great kid.
Mum ended our conversation with ‘Well, I guess I should phone you.’ Considering it’s not long distance, and our phone number hasn’t changed in 21 years, that option has always been there, she just hasn’t exercised it. But the choice is hers. It’s obvious I’m still not welcome there, and if I phoned there and Dad picked up, he’d probably hang up on me as he has in the past.
I half-expected a phone call this morning, while the other part of me knew she wouldn’t call because Dad was there and she’d never do anything he didn’t want her to do. She’s from that generation where the man lays down the law for the ‘little woman’ and heaven forbid that she’d go against him. The phone never rang.
But you know what? As emotional as it was yesterday, I’m at peace with it all. I didn’t walk by – I made the effort and reached out. If I never see them again, I know at least I tried.