The Fool says hey, you know what? You know nothing.
That one day back in April when Notre Dame started burning was the same the day my gynecologist called back to say ok yes, let’s quit this endless loop of diagnostics and go straight for a hysterectomy. I was like, great. And thank you. We set it up for mid-May and that was that.
Later that day my social media feed was full of photos of friends in Paris. I didn’t like it. It looked to me to be announcing “I personally have been to Paris,” more so than the significance of losing so many objects of holy beauty. I thought, wow, wouldn’t it be hilarious if I took this to the next level? Like instead of a photo of myself in Paris what if I joined the conversation by posting “Aujourd’hui ma womb c’est mort,” which would be funny because it’s the first line of L’etranger which we all had to read in French II, or whatever, which means “Today my mother is dead.” But in French. And not “my mother.” My womb. You see how good this is.
Except it’s really not. I mean it’s still funny in my own head but ultimately I decided this would not have translated on social media, any better than those well-meaning probably heartfelt-feeling people’s pictures of themselves in Paris worked for me. So instead I just shut up and privately found it funny, and heavy, and really just perfect, that my womb got put on notice on the same day numerous objects of holy beauty got charred over there in Paris.
The Fool says hey, hey, you know nothing. You have no idea what those people experienced on those trips to Paris. Maybe they had the most sacred experiences of their lives. You have no idea, you know nothing, and if a beginning is going to feel like a beginning and amount to anything at all, it has to start like this.
NOTE! This drawing which I have assigned to The Fool is by Abby Daleki. She didn’t know she was drawing a tarot deck, at the time, but as I watched her drawing-a-day-for-100-days project, it looked to me like a deck was taking shape. So after her 100 days were up, she let me look through the tablets and pick the drawings that seemed right. This one seemed like The Fool. You see how it has the look of starting out. It’s tentative yet there is no looking back. The day Abby drew it she also wrote down the question “how can you feel loved and wanted without seeking to be desired, empty or whole.” The Fool says, hey I’m sorry, but I am not kidding you — if a beginning is to feel like a beginning, it has to start like this.