Not Too Tight, Not Too Loose

Or, a funny thing happened on the way to the pharmacy.

When it comes to the Sunday newsletter, I write the essay and card reading separately, and am often pleased to discover they play nicely together. This week, something different happened. Right from the get-go, they wanted to commingle, in one glorious mashup of stories and symbols.

So today, please enjoy this more-seamless-than-usual issue, just for paid subscribers.

Here’s a funny story about one of the sadder moments of my life. It begins with a push notification.

One drizzly Friday afternoon, I glanced down at my phone to see a triumphant little bubble saying a package was out for delivery. “You’re getting a delivery from FINAL GIFT!” it declared, followed by the emoji of the party horn releasing a cloud of confetti. Its energy was wildly off-base. Final Gift, as the name might suggest, is a pet crematory. My dog Mia’s ashes were heading home.

A few hours later, another less jubilant notification appeared. The package could not be delivered. (Why? Who can say, as I never left, and the buzzer never sounded.) It was now waiting for pickup at the local pharmacy.

Taking care of business is not my strong suit — I have been known to delay simple tasks for as long as I can get away with — but I wanted to get this sorted as soon as possible. I hope the box is discreet, I muttered, as I made my way down the block. May this be a quick transaction. May I not run into anyone I know. May I be able to hold myself together.

I approached the counter and told the clerk my name, reflexively reaching for the I.D. they typically require. But she did not ask to see it. She’d been expecting me.

The clerk blinked several times, trying to discern if I was what she expected, kind of like the time I saw Matt Damon at Starbucks yet strained to confirm it in the shadow of his baseball cap. And then she did something altogether unexpected. She hollered.

“SHE’S HERE!”

With this, two more clerks — tall, reedy youths — materialized from a back room, like Thing One and Thing Two.

Felt a lot like this, honestly.

“Ohhhh,” said One, eyes wide as saucers. “You’re here.”

“We’re so sorry,” cooed Two.

The original clerk produced a box from behind the counter. It was small and rather plain, save for the giant red sticker declaring “PET REMAINS” in screaming type. She set about scanning the package while the Things launched into a back-and-forth volley of questions.

“When did it happen?”

“Was it, like, natural?”

“Dog or cat?”

“Were they old?”

“How are you doing?”

“Do you think you’ll get another one?”

The inquisition was peppered with the sound of a monotonous beep, like the world’s worst club music, as the scanner chose this moment to stop working.

“I’m sorry…” the clerk said, over and over, though I’m still not sure if she was talking about the dog or apologizing for the faulty UPC code.

I’d expected to spend the entirety of this errand on the verge of tears, but by this point, the whole thing felt so absurd, so straight-out-of-Seinfeld, I couldn’t help but laugh.

I was reminded of this when I saw today’s card.

Featuring the Spolia Tarot by Jen May and Jessa Crispin

A tarot deck contains 78 cards depicting universal human experiences — one for every stage, every thought, every emotion. But I find few as relatable to contemporary life as the Two of Pentacles.

It often shows a person juggling, which we are free to interpret in a multitude of ways:

Are they attempting to multi-task?
Tackling an endless to-do list?
Considering two different, competing truths?
Struggling to please others while remaining true to themself?
Chasing the elusive concept of “balance” (yet somehow falling short)?
Toeing the line between who they are…and who they are becoming?

The answer — to any or all of the above — is a resounding yes.

“Balance” as a concept can be beautiful, indeed. But too often it becomes another source of pressure, one more benchmark from which we fall woefully short.

If you are reading these words, it would seem you are alive, and thus probably don’t need me to tell you that life can feel like an epic balancing act. How do we hold it together? How do we keep showing up?

Life ain’t easy, as the saying goes, and this card acknowledges that completely. But in place of the usual advice (“try this new yoga sequence”), today, the Two wishes to inquire after our sense of humor. When, it wants to know, is the last time we really laughed?

A sense of humor does not refer to one’s talent for performing standup comedy. It merely means our ability to find stuff funny. Maintaining one’s sense of humor — recognizing a glint of the absurdity inherent in our world — can be key to preserving one’s sanity.

The iconic Smith-Waite tarot, with art by Pamela Colman Smith

The Two of Pentacles shows a character handling two coins in a figure eight. Though it resembles an infinity sign, it doesn’t invoke feelings of eternity, but rather serves to caution us against repeating the same patterns that keep us stuck in an endless loop.

Which reminds me of another story.

There is a well known Buddhist tale about a musician (in some versions they are a sitar player, in others a lute player…choose whatever resonates). Said musician is having trouble meditating (because who doesn’t?) and asks for the Buddha’s advice.

“What happens when you tune your instrument too tightly?” the Buddha asks.

“The strings break,” the musician replies.

“And what happens when you string it too loosely?”

“It won’t play music.”

“That is how it’s done,” the Buddha concluded. “Not too tight, and not too loose.”

This week’s message reminds us that balance doesn’t only mean juggling tasks or expectations. It can also mean making space for a range of emotions and experiences. Or even an array of possibilities.

Balance, it tells us, is a process, not a destination.

There is an element of fun inherent in this card, a much-needed sense of play. Despite the demands, the pressures, and the challenges of being a person, it asks: Can we take a dance break? Can we listen to that beloved old song? Can we stop taking ourselves so seriously? Can we remember that laughter is medicine?

It invokes Groucho Marx paraphrasing Oscar Wilde: “Life is too serious to be taken seriously.”

Featuring the UV Tarot by Modest Mouse with art by Violet Aveline

The Two of Pentacles makes way for things to be wildly nuanced, acknowledging our ability to hold multiple truths at once. Life can be sad and funny, hard and beautiful, devastating and fulfilling. We can feel all sorts of ways about things…sometimes about the same thing, within the span of the same day. We can change our minds. We can change our approach.

The thing about juggling — and indeed, about balance — is that it is never static. One ball is always in play, one issue held higher than the others. One facet of our lives will take priority. And then, just like that, it will shift.

This brings us to our last, but arguably most important, message for the week. The Two of Pentacles doesn’t only concern the juggle of our daily lives, but of our very selves: who we are…and who we are becoming.

The Two invites us to consider two sides of the same coin, and in the process, to rediscover ourselves. What interests us? What no longer serves us?

When we are trying to “get it all done,” our impulse is sometimes to do more. But this card suggests a different approach. Do less, with more precision. Focus on what is in front of you, for as every good juggler knows, each hand can only handle one ball at a time.

Not too loose, and not too tight. Embrace movement, invite flow. But above all, especially where you least expect it, leave some space for joy.