Back in the 60s and 70s, the disc jockeys on my favourite local Winnipeg radio station played Gordon Lightfoot songs almost as often as they did The Beatles. I loved the Beatles but I was also a huge Gordon Lightfoot fan. Who wasn’t? He had a guitar, curly hair, a moustache, and songs that told stories, had substance and thoughtful surprising lyrics. Each time a new Lightfoot song came out, I listened closely for the words. I didn’t know it at the time, but his songs had much to say that I needed to hear.
Lightfoot knew Canada’s forests, knew they’d never been empty, knew they were full of botanical, animal, and human life. To me, that’s why the forests of his “Canadian Railroad Trilogy” are “too silent to be real”: they’re not real, they’re mythological. The lyrics to his trilogy echoed across Canada during our centennial year of 1967. It almost felt like it was my job as a young Canadian to like that song, and I did, but I loved the upbeat feel of “Steel Rail Blues” more, even though the story in that one is not at all upbeat.
In the Manitoba of my youth, a black day in July was caused by thunderclouds rolling in from the west, not riots in the streets. Unlike the radio stations in the thirty states that stopped playing Lightfoot’s “Black Day in July” because its content was too sensitive for American ears, Canadian radio continued to air the song. Its urgency and drama was startling, even in the turbulence of the late sixties. Lightfoot’s response to the banning of his song was to say that radio station owners wanted to play music that made people happy, not music that made people think. For me, Lightfoot’s music did both.
Music over the airwaves wasn’t as available back then as it is now: we had no Spotify or Apple Music to provide a constant source of whatever we wanted to hear whenever we wanted to hear it. I had a limey green transistor radio that was rarely out of my reach. I could listen to it in the backyard or in my room without bothering anyone else in our small crowded house too much. (Me and my radio shown below.)
The quieter Lightfoot songs were the ones that really drew me in. I knew all the words to “I’m Not Sayin’” or “The Way I Feel” or “Did She Mention My Name” or the heart-breaking ballad “Bitter Green.” The wandering cad of “That’s What You Get for Loving Me” was like most of the boys I knew back in high school, but at least the singer in Lightfoot’s song was honest about it. Whatever Lightfoot wrote seemed to have an eerie insight into my world.
Although I was still living in my parents’ home, I had waves of homesickness whenever I heard “Early Morning Rain.” I wanted someone who made me feel “Beautiful,” someone to come to me “Softly,” someone to slip away with on a “Carefree Highway.” “Cotton Jenny” reminded me of my mother, who was always stretching the family’s pennies. “Sundown” felt dangerous, but I wanted that satin dress and those faded jeans.
“If You Could Read My Mind” came out after Lightfoot’s first divorce, just around the time I was getting married for the first time. I loved the song but I didn’t hear the warning in the words back then. Now that’s all I hear. I sang along to “Alberta Bound” long before I knew my own life was Alberta bound. I cried the first time I heard “Rainy Day People,” wished I knew some, hoped I could learn how to be one. Sometimes it seemed that Lightfoot knew me better than I knew myself.
While I was still in high school, there was a rumour that he was going to play one Friday night in a local rundown coffee shop. Some of my friends were going, but I couldn’t because I was working my part-time job as a Safeway cashier. I was desperately disappointed, but not as much as they were when the rumour turned out to be just that.
I saw him play live only once, when he was much older, after his voice had started to go, but the words and the music and the musician were as strong as ever and I was no less entranced. As his later years unfolded, I was inspired when he defied death numerous times, then returned to the stage and continued performing almost to the very end. Today, his songs put me back in touch with the girl I used to be. I’ll be listening to them for as long as I can.
Perhaps it was the Lightfoot songs playing as a constant ear worm in my head since May 1 that made me pick up my Tarot cards for the first time in almost two months. That’s a long time for me. I don’t go far without my Tarot cards. Even when I travel I take them with me. Last summer, I ruined my beloved Waite-Smith deck (seen above) by spilling a go-mug of hot tea into the tote bag they were in while I was staying with my daughter. We tried to rescue the sodden deck by laying the cards out to dry overnight. They look fine in the above photo, but now they’re thick and won’t lie flat, rendering them impossible to shuffle. I can’t throw them out, can’t possibly part with them, but I can’t use them to work with anymore so I had to order a new deck. Initially, the new the didn’t feel the same in my hands, but we have grown accustomed to each other and I’m now quite fond of it.
I taught myself the Tarot because I wanted to write a story in which the main character was a Tarot card reader. During the learning process, the Tarot became part of my life. I don’t read for others. I don’t have that kind of vision or training, so that would be a disservice. I will help friends gain a basic understanding of the cards so they can read for themselves, but for the most part, I use the Tarot only for me and my writing.
When I reached for my cards last week, I held them in my hands and asked my usual question: What should I be paying attention to today? Then I drew my card of the day. The Hermit showed up and I laughed out loud. It was exactly what I wanted. The Hermit says lie down or go for a walk, take some time to think, pay attention to yourself. With The Hermit’s encouragement, I decided to continue with my regular 5-card spread.
This is how I read my five-card spreads. The card in the first spot tells me what I’ve just been through: it’s the “what has recently passed” card. This time, King of Swords showed up. (The Tarot is not gender-specific. All the cards can apply to anyone, so even though I’m using ‘he’ here, it can be ‘she,’ they,’ ‘you,’ or ‘me’). The Swords King is a well prepared guy: decisive, vigilant, disciplined. And I realized that after my illness I was still in a state of vigilance and discipline. Maybe I could relax a little now.
The second card in my 5-card spread points to what is present now. Four of Swords is a card that goes very well with The Hermit. Four of Swords is all about reflection. It’s time to rest and replenish. I can do that. Geo will tell you that I’ve become very proficient at resting.
The third card where the action is: it’s what to do now. I am always happy to see The High Priestess show up. She’s all mystery and intuition, spirituality and science combined, wisdom and tenacity. She’s just what I need when I have doubts (daily). Sometimes The High Priestess is me. Sometimes she is a wise friend. Sometimes she’s someone I haven’t met yet. Whoever she is, The High Priestess tells me not to overthink things - go with my gut.
The fourth card is a helping card. What shows up in this spot is what will help the situation. Seven of Pentacles appeared this time. Pentacles are the earthy suit: feet firmly on the ground, hands digging in the dirt, all that kind of thing. On this card, the figure has paused: he’s leaning on his shovel, contemplating his work, figuring out what to do next. That’s me these days.
The fifth and last card in my regular spread is always the “what can happen” card. It’s always a joy to see The Sun appear. It’s a card that says go outside and enjoy the day. But this time, my Sun came out reversed. That happens sometimes. Cards in a deck have energy and with all that shuffling they can get turned around. Cards that come out reversed have an edge to their message. The Sun reversed is no less sunny; it’s just not quite as clear as we want it to be. In other words, anything can happen.
So that’s how I use the Tarot in my life. With my latest spread giving me the go-ahead and Lightfoot songs still playing on a loop in my head, I’ve decided to share with you the cover of my new book, She Who Burns, soon to be released (sometime in August). This is the very first public peek. I hope you like it. I am very grateful to my FriesenPress design team for creating a cover that speaks so beautifully to the story inside.
Thanks for reading Me Who Writes. If you enjoyed this piece, please share it with your friends.
As usual, my dear, you nailed it.