The choice
I’m a person of many houses. In my head. I used to spend almost 2 months in the Norwegian mountains every year. Then Covid came and disrupted my perfect track of 22 years in a row.
Once a Norwegian asked what I’d do if I had all the money in the world. I said that I’d buy 12 houses in Norway, all on top of a mountain. I would spend exactly one month in each house on rotation, simply zipping to them by helicopter. I would have different decors in each house, save for a few standard ideas – I vacillate between a traditional Japanese house and a house that features the finest silk rugs or the thickest Persian ones. In my current house I have, for instance a Tatami room, a Persian room, a Zen temple room, a Western esoteric magic room, a Danish library room, and a few others. The house is big and I use it as a sort of an experimenting prototype, for indeed, at the end of the day, who’s to say that I won’t be able to get my 12 houses on top of a mountain in Norway? And a helicopter.
Meanwhile, there are other houses I find here in Denmark. Just the other day I found one not far from where I now live, which is in the middle of the wild Nordic nature, right on the beach of the North Sea. Now, this other house features a great garden and tall trees, a rarity in the area. Since the house is also on an island some 30 minutes drive from my dwelling, I thought about how perfect for the days when I have enough of the North wind, and the regular Zephyr in the west refuses to visit. Do I buy this house or not? That is the question.
‘But it’s the recession,’ both reason and others say. And I go, ‘so what?’ I never negotiate with my desire. When it hits me unexpectedly, I simply acknowledge its presence. The other thing is just numbers.
I cast the cards for my choice. I performed a 6-card reading for this dual question, one for each set of 3 cards placed side by side:
What will happen if I get the garden house?
What will happen if I don’t?
The simple rule in such readings is to choose the better option, or, when that is not available, to choose the lesser evil. I hammered on this and other similar ideas in my book, Choices, worthy of a read. But here’s my example.
The top row of cards, featuring the World, the Pope, and the Hanged Man for the first question, says this: the house is perfect, and it has just the right enclosure I’m looking for. But if I get it, I’ll also be getting more than just the house. I see the Pope here representing the financial consultant, and pointing to the likelihood of getting stuck with the house. This is not the best of news, for, as much as I want the house, I’m also quite Zen about it, which means that I would rather not get into any deals I can’t get out of again. When all things are said and done, I prefer myself unattached.
The bottom row of cards, featuring the Tower, the Devil, and Judgment for the second question, says this: if I don’t get the house, I’ll be devastated, and I will keep obsessing about it until the hereafter, or at least until the day when I’ll be able to make an announcement either about this very house, or one that’s similar in terms of how it may exert its exciting prospect on me.
What do I do then? The cards spoke their clear language. Interestingly enough, both rows of cards feature the idea of attachment in them. What is the lesser evil, then, given that I already said that I prefer the Zen way of non-attachment?
Culturally speaking, being demonically attached is worse than being in a house you can’t get rid of – although I know quite a few that got to the first state by being stuck in the latter state. So I conclude that the two evils here are of equal measure.
What then? I go Zen again. In order to avoid a non-desirable attachment, I refrain from engaging. As the Master Yoda said, ‘when all choices are wrong, choose restraint.’ Sigh. As per the second row of cards, I may first create a circus out of having to refrain, but then, all things being equal, I’ll get over it. Judgement, after all, is a card of renewal, and as such, I can bank on it. Besides, this house is not one of the 12 I dream of. So I carry on dreaming. I already live in a dream house, so it’s not difficult to dream up some more house.
For instance, I sit at this desk below as I’m writing this down, in a room that’s excellent for breathing, especially when I happen to hyperventilate due to occasional frustrations. Looking out the window at the sand dunes and the sea bathed in sunlight, I get transported to many places that tend to fix whatever obsession I may have. Sometimes this ‘fixing’ is a good thing, sometimes it’s a bad thing. But in the scheme of things always being as they are, all I need for the good life is to know this. Which I do, by Jove, I do – and so I do say this, while I’m searching already for more trees…
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Now choose…
Choices features 10 concrete examples of 6-card readings, all posing different degrees of difficulty.
In between these choices there are stories of reading the cards for the local Lutheran priest, analyzing films, and taking stock of a favorite topic, namely infinite love.
