“Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.
He is awkward and does not know the ways
Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.
His voice makes vinegar from wine.”
So begins Tom Hiron‘s darkly rich and sublimely satisfying poem.
I stumbled across his poem a couple of years ago, and promptly printed a copy to go in my cookbook. I pasted it next to the beef, mushroom and red wine recipe – I decided a long time ago that good poetry and good food make excellent bedfellows.
So I was elated to find the poem has been published and a hard copy – small and potent little pearl of beauty – promptly found its way to my kitchen table. I received it today, and somehow, in a fit of intuitive impulse, decided it goes wonderfully well with the Wooden Tarot by Andy Swartz. My opportunities for tarot play have morphed into quick shuffles in between nappy changes, feeding, and entertaining my bundle of joy (and I mean that very literally – the little man laughs in his sleep, every time he sleeps; I’m talking full on giggles…). This is good: there is not much time for thinking long and drawn out conversations in my head. It’s all very natural: this poem goes with this deck, regardless of whether any of it makes any sense and who cares anyway.
So there I was about an hour ago, experiencing the tactile enjoyment one savours from the printed book and thinking to myself, Who is the wild god?
Now I am not a fan of taking cards that fall out as gospel. I know readers who swear by this method – as one shuffles the deck, inevitably one or more cards fall out. I don’t ignore them either – I know there’s a message in there, but I prefer to shuffle and cut my deck, choosing cards from the middle pile. It’s my solid, trusted and comfortable method.
So anyhow, I see the Star and think well that doesn’t make much sense, I mean, shouldn’t it be the Devil or something like it (see how the mind always churns; this is why I took up yoga, folks, to try and still the never ending conversation). I place the card back, shuffle some more, cut the deck, and pick the top card from the middle pile.
Of course it was the Star.
Tarot does that to me sometimes. Every time I experience one of these moments, I feel like divine grace is there, gently reminding me to trust and have faith.
I suppose they are also qualities one needs to meet their wild god – sooner or later he (or she) will turn up. Again.