I love a bit of woowoo. I have loved ‘pulling a card’ since Di Coleman introduced me to her little affirmation cards close to thirty years ago. I am not the type to put my life in the hands of the gods, but I do like to make meaning of things. So I like to pick a card and see where it makes my mind go, what connections I make, and whether or not I see it as relevant to me.

Today I had a little time, so I decided to use my cute little animal tarot cards to do a full Celtic Cross. It’s always fun to see what I think about the ‘problem’ I see myself in, once the cards give their opinion, and what will happen going forward, based on tiny pieces of cardboard. Would I make a major decision due to the presence or absence of the Dragonfly card? No. However sometimes having someone (card, person, meme) jump into my mind can solidify what I really think. Below the surface of the daily to-do list, the opinions of others, and the demands of running a business or two, it can be fun to take a moment and reflect on what is under the calm surface of a life.

So I dutifully laid my ten cards out, nodding along at some of the suggestions (and let’s face it- a card reading is only going to be as good as the person interpreting it) and tilting my head in curiosity at others. I always hold my breath a little when it comes to the last card in the cross, for it’s the the big enchilada: “The Most Likely Outcome.” (Ta-da). It’s the card where the curtain is pulled back and we get to see what the great and powerful Oz really looks like. Are we still in Kansas, Toto? Or are we about to land on some funky ol’ witch?

I sucked in my breath when I saw that my outcome card was from the Minor Arcana (damn) and the suit of Winter (double damn). I hate Winter in life and in cards. The Winter suit is always a bit sucky. Anyhow, it was too late to put it back in the pack in the hopes of getting a more auspicious card*. To add insult to psychological injury, it was a card with bloody birds on it. Winged-rats are my kryptonite.

I’m about to share with you what my most likely outcome card said, but I don’t think it was just for me. I think it might be for you too. I won’t type the whole thing out, but here are the Cliff Notes on it:

• It’s easy to convince yourself you’re trapped when you really aren’t.
• Being afraid of change can prevent you from having the vibrant, colourful life you’re dreaming of.
• Believe in yourself.
• Ask for help.
• And most of all the message is: “Escape the cage of your thoughts, sing your song, show your true colours, and know that you’re beautiful.”

So take this as your reminder this lovely day. It’s your permission to be wholly and fully you.

Go and “Fly my pretties! Fly.”**

*I may or may not do this sometimes if I don’t like a card.

**Don’t come at me. I’m referencing the original cut.. Or Mr.Burns, choose your poison.

PS That Em Rusciano vid is worth a watch. It’s a banger.

Every morning at around 7am, there is a kid, somewhere in our neighbourhood that yells out, “Bye Dad, I love you, have a great day.”

And then, silence.

We don’t know if there is a beaming dad in his ute who goes to work with something extra in his heart because TILYK yelled out, or if there’s a guy in a suit and tie who is scowling at what the neighbours think. We never hear from Dad. Does he wait patiently and whilst TILYK runs out to the balcony for his shout out, or has he already driven off, heavy as the tasks of the day drag the corners of his mouth down? Is there a Mum who pushes TILYK outside, hissing, “Say goodbye to Dad, quickquick.” (Mums are always saying things like quickquick and don’tdawdle), or is TILYK one of those helium children who wake up close to the ceiling and bounce through the mornings?

Some days we smile right along with The I Love You Kid. Those are the days where we’ve had coffee and cooked eggs and the dogs have been walked and the shirts are ironed and no one spilt cereal on the floor. Those days are where we too brim with good cheer and the intention is set for a great day. TILYK is another part of our affirmation.

And some days we don’t smile. Those are the days when uniforms are crumpled and there’s not enough butter and Shitcat peed on the floor instead of the litter and all I can think of is all.of.the.things that I should do. Shoulding all over myself. It’s a crappy mess. (Worse that cat wee). And those days TILYK also gives me the shits.

This year corona happened, and for a time our windows were shut against the morning breeze and each other. We pulled our loved ones close and thought the enemy was a teensy microorganism that was so powerful it could take away the free things: the salty air, smiles, handshakes, dancing, the sound of the waves, the DOM.

And it stole The I Love You Kid from us. Either his Dad didn’t go to work, or he was a little deflated, or our ears were deaf to his lilt. For months we didn’t hear TILYK and we missed him like certainty, especially on the days when the whelm threatened to over us.

So now that the corona life has morphed into something else, we can hear him again.

And on the days that aren’t as glittery we breathe out, and remember that The I Love You Kid is speaking to us all. He doesn’t know it, but all of the houses that snake along this road hear his fierce cry and our cells hark back to a time when we were brave of heart. He reminds us that we have a choice of how free our hearts are, and what pulse we choose to hear.

The best days are when we know that the cry of, “I love you” is meant for all of us, and our corpuscles respond with, “Have a great day,” and we know that we will and we know that we choose and we know that our minds are free.

Thanks Mel, over to you.