I got lost this morning on my way to work.  I had to review documents kept in a storage unit in a sleepy town in central Florida.  I’ve been to this location three times in the past, and I continue to lose my way.  I’ve tried mapquest, yahoo directions, google directions, looked it up on a paper map, and stopped at every convenience store and gas station for a five mile radius.  The storage unit sits alongside a convergence of several county roads and state highways, all at odd angles.  Did I mention the ongoing tangle of construction that hides road signs and encourages detours?

So, I got lost this morning on my way to work.  Just when I thought I was going to have to drive 90 miles back to Tampa to get my bearings and start over, there it was … Bob’s Budget Storage …  right where it has always been.  Suddenly, all the landmarks that I had tried to recall from the last trip surrounded me.  “X” marks the spot and here I am.  And I have no idea how I got here.  I got here on time, with time to spare.  No one would ever know that I drove in circles for 30 minutes and got bad directions at two gas stations – unless I told them.  I got lost, but then I found myself.

And I am reminded of those mysterious, delirious sevens in the Tarot.  The journey is truly our own.  We can ask for help.  And sometimes, we even get it.  But so often, it’s our own internal compass that guides us.  I don’t know where North is.  That’s why I carry a compass with my camping gear and with my Witch basket for gatherings.  And sometimes I don’t have a clue how I’m going to respond meaningfully, ethically and soulfully to a particular situation.  I haven’t found a soul compass in Wal-Mart’s camping section yet.  So, I get lost on my way to the solution … and just when I think that I might need to start from scratch, the world around me comes into focus and the solution confronts me, as if it has been there all along.  Perhaps it has been.  I only needed to untangle the highways and Main Streets and back alleys of my heart and mind and go around one more time.

The sevens in the Tarot are paths paved in each of the four elements, and though the journeys may seem different, they all lead within, as we untangle our inner turmoil, then deposit ourselves out right where we need to be.

The seven of fire challenges my courage and fortitude, daring me to jump the chasm of my unknown spirit.  The seven of water sees me weep silently, would have me swallow my sorrow and taste the salt of my own tears.  The seven of air speaks from every corner, testing my ability to listen, to communicate, and to learn – indeed to hear the voices in my own head and discern that which is true.  And the seven of earth tests my stamina, telling me to dig deep, to put in sweat equity, lay solid foundations, no matter how futile these efforts may seem at the time.  And at the end of each of these journeys, when I eventually find my way, I am rewarded with the Knowledge that I am capable of more than anyone could have imagined, especially myself.

I believe each voyage of the Minor Arcana Sevens begins with getting lost.  In a classic lesson learned through opposites, I cannot know myself and my own power until I have lost myself and my own power and fought, flown, floundered, or forged my way back home.  And when I am ready, I find my own Chariot – at once a grand Major Arcana archetype and Seven and my own Ego – awaits. 

            And so, I’m glad I got lost this morning on my way to work.  It gave me time to pursue wandering but parallel paths – inner and outer – and I’m a little closer to understanding my cards and myself.