“Come In, and Know Me Better Man!”

Ghost of Christmas Present, The Muppets Christmas Carol

My Tarot reading for Solstice looks edgy.  I’m no expert, so I  send the results to a friend in the hope that her objectivity lends a better slant.

I prefer happy cards myself–the ones with flowers and suns and balance. There doesn’t seem to be much of that in the Tarot, and it’s my mother’s fault.

She was the one that used the cards, not me. But after she died, I delved; just to be closer to her; and to find my way without her counsel.

My mother listened; and I talked… and talked… and talked.

Now I write and write and write.

I don’t feel her as strongly this year. I don’t. It’s her birthday, of course. On Christmas. It’s been 11 years–the age of my youngest.

That first Christmas was the harshest. The angel globes that my sister sent lifted my heart. This year, the gold seems faded.

It’s because our tree is too small. It does fit nicely into our crowded livingroom, and we can put the star atop without bending the tip; but my husband didn’t need to cut so much off the trunk, and I tell him so. The kids quickly moved closer to intervene:

“It looks good Mom,” they say. “It’s fine. It’s fine.”

Still, I think the angel would be more beautiful if she was hung higher.

My nose burns with the thought of my mother. I’m not a crier. I get headaches instead.

The tarot reading is filled with swords and wands and disks. No cups at all. They’re the ones with emotion.

Defeat is the first card–the one that captures the essence of my winter work. Oppression and Strife make unkind appearances too–in my future and in the possibilities that lie ahead.

The reading ends with Prudence, and I feel her alignment. Wisdom comes from order, not chaos, it says; from trust, not control.

The card that stays with me most is the one I drew as my winter blessing: The Devil.

This card encourages me to face that which be-devils me, and to face it with humor and sure-footedness.  It reminds me that I’ve taken things too seriously.

I never get jokes. I don’t even like them. I don’t even know when someone is fooling with me.

I read non-fiction.

Last year, I bought a family calendar with cartoons just to loosen me up. I don’t think I changed. Maybe I’m beginning to.

Even if I don’t like jokes, I do welcome light-heartedness, and I wake this morning, feeling lighter, and wondering why I ever took the work of Christmas so seriously. 

The Devil card encourages me to follow my bliss and more importantly to be mirthful in facing my problems. I think on the Ghost of Christmas Present, the one from the Muppets; the huge, jolly giant, with red dreadlocks, who laughs and eats and says over and over again, “Come in, and know me better man.”

And so, I step into this day–this eve of the Eve (as my eleven-year old calls it)–and I take the hand of that Giant–with humor and sure-footedness–and most importantly with: MIRTH.

Kelly Salasin, the eve of the Eve, 2011


One thought on ““Come In, and Know Me Better Man!”

  1. mirth, like merry, mary, mama, maybe, myth. mine.
    mirth like warmth within
    mirth chuckles or laughs out but low and relaxed.
    mirth like happiness within, but not contained.
    mirth feels like watching a baby learn to walk.
    yes thank you I will have a cup of mirth.


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