"Oh, this is a real temptation for you."
He pointed to the card he had just turned over. I strained to see it in the dark alcove of the magic shop in the French Quarter.
The Five of Cups. Regret, despair. Recently, it had been a visitor to my own tarot drawings, but I had never seen this rendering of it. (I have a very non-traditional deck, one that I am absolutely in love with.)
"Look here," he said. "The woman is so focused on the three cups of spilled wine that she is completely ignoring the two full cups sitting behind her that remain."
I flashed back to a moment the previous week. I had been doing a mini-life review in the room of my house where I do my coaching, which I often think of as my "chapel." At my age, barring any major health challenges, I figured that I had about two decades of decent productivity left, give or take.
With my transition in the past few years from corporate life to coaching, I have generally felt like I am (finally) On My Path. But still, it can be hard for me to let go of regret for all the time it took to get me there--wondering about what might have been possible had I started earlier. Those feelings had been especially keen that week.
But there they were now. Two cups, two decades. Full to the brim, and waiting for me.
As if to emphasize the point, he said, "Do you see the clock in the tree behind her? These cups exist in time." That is, there is time left. For me.
On the ride home to Baton Rouge that night, my BFF who had gone with me on this adventure got a text from our like-hearted friend. She had been following our journey to New Orleans with wistful interest, and had gotten a strong intuitive hit that evening. "So, did the Five of Cups come up in Chris's reading?"
Oh boy. Did it ever.
Image from Llewellyn Wizards Tarot (the one used by the reader)
