You wake up one morning and feel like everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve means absolutely nothing. You’ve done what everyone else has expected of you. Your bosses are happy. You’ve made enough money. Hell, even your parents are proud of you. But that sense of fulfilment that you thought would come from it is nowhere to be found. Instead, there’s a voice inside you that whispers, “Life was meant to be more than this.”
There are jewels, but is it true wealth or just the display of it? There is a beautiful tower – perhaps a lavish home – but will it put her in debt? There’s a snake and a dragon and some laurels. Who in the world wants that? Why is it even there? Do people actually pay for that stuff? And exactly who/what is that head?
If anyone’s ever spoken to you bluntly without caring a hoot about your feelings – you know it hurts like hell. Or if you’re waiting for someone to say something…and they don’t. I told her I loved her and she didn’t say it back. That’s the Suit of Swords in action. Words have more power than swords, I assure you.
Little Tree’s parents don’t have time for him. They think they can put money in the soil and expect Little Tree to grow. Such strange logic some people have… Kids don’t need money the way adults do. They need us to nurture, guide and provide the right nutrients so they can become the big beautiful trees they are meant to be.
You have forgotten how to just live. You are caught up in the routine of your day to day affairs. You do the same crap day in and day out. You live a world of certainty – not in a world of adventure, wonder and possibility. You need to let go of whatever grandiose cookie cutter plans you have for for the future. While we’re at it, why don’t you relegate the dusty worries of your past to the history books where they belong?
The alarm rings at 5am. It’s time for the Monday blues. Welcome to yet another week of groundhog days. Beady-eyed, David accidentally hits the stop button instead of the snooze button. At 6.30am, his eyes reluctantly open. Oh crap. I’m going to be late.
Once upon a time, there was a young lady. She worked at the office of a major brokerage firm. She spent her days talking about bonds, stocks and writing up future financial forecasts. The people she worked with weren’t particularly pleasant. Backstabbing and underhanded nastiness were the norm amongst the staff.