Card That I Have Found on the Floor Three Times in the Last Week



Gort

"The ivy grows spreads and flourishes in many conditions--cultivated land and wasteland, in light or near darknes, in fertile soil or in rubble and stones. It will push its way through tiny cracks and crevices to reach the light and it is strong and difficult to destroy. Since ancient times, the Vine and the Ivy have been regarded as enemies. If the Vine, through intoxication, releases prophetic visions, the Ivy, in constrast, puts you in touch with your own inner resources, giving you the ability to see through the eyes of the soul beyond the everyday world. The color is associated with the Ogham Ivy is gorm, sky blue. Retain a vision of the clear blue sky to which you aspire in your mind's eye - don't be gorm-less.

If selected, this card represents the spiral of the self and the search for self. The maze of labyrinth is also linked to the Ivy, since it too symbolizes the wandering of the soul, circling inward and outward seeking nourishment and experience from the outside and from within itself, to achieve finally its goal of enlightenment."

From "The Celtic Tree Oracle, a System of Divination" by Liz and Colin Murray

The Ivy Crown

The whole process is a lie,
unless,
crowned by excess,
It break forcefully,
one way or another,
from its confinement—
or find a deeper well.
Antony and Cleopatra
were right;
they have shown
the way. I love you
or I do not live
at all.

Daffodil time
is past. This is
summer, summer!
the heart says,
and not even the full of it.
No doubts
are permitted—
though they will come
and may
before our time
overwhelm us.
We are only mortal
but being mortal
can defy our fate.
We may
by an outside chance
even win! We do not
look to see
jonquils and violets
come again
but there are,
still,
the roses!

Romance has no part in it.
The business of love is
cruelty which,
by our wills,
we transform
to live together.
It has its seasons,
for and against,
whatever the heart
fumbles in the dark
to assert
toward the end of May.
Just as the nature of briars
is to tear flesh,
I have proceeded
through them.
Keep
the briars out,
they say.
You cannot live
and keep free of
briars.

Children pick flowers.
Let them.
Though having them
in hand
they have no further use for them
but leave them crumpled
at the curb's edge.

At our age the imagination
across the sorry facts
lifts us
to make roses
stand before thorns.
Sure
love is cruel
and selfish
and totally obtuse—
at least, blinded by the light,
young love is.
But we are older,
I to love
and you to be loved,
we have,
no matter how,
by our wills survived
to keep
the jeweled prize
always
at our finger tips.
We will it so
and so it is
past all accident.

William Carlos Williams