Father/Daughter love. The Emperor is the patriarch and the quintessential Father figure of the Tarot and associated with the suit of Fire, specifically Aries. He represents authority in its many forms, and, upright, makes and enforces the rules for our own good. He’s wise. He’s experienced. He must know everything ’cause he’s Dad, and of course an essential figure in our lives. DNA is DNA.
The Queen of Cups, she of the psychic, sensitive, emotional suit of water (Pisces/Cancer/Scorpio) is openly emotional – she tears up at the drop of a hat – receptive, and sometimes a little naive, that’s why this older man likes her. This combination can mean an older man – younger woman relationship – her childlike naivety is part of the appeal, and makes this aging Emperor feel like a young man again. He’s her Sugardaddy. (Last paragraph dedicated to the late Hugh Hefner.)
Forgive me if you’ve heard this one before but I feel like someone could be encouraged by this today.
My Athiest Harley-riding, hard-working, hard-partying Father (“God doesn’t put food on this table, I do.”) grew pensive in his last years even before he was diagnosed with bladder cancer. “How do you know” he’d said, “there’s anything after this?”
“Because you’ll tell me when you get there.” I’d said matter of factly as we ate Italian and drank wine at his dining-room table.
He went quick, refusing chemo and dying as he always said he would, in his damn Levi’s.
Some days later, I’d be typing away around midnight and I’d hear the microwave go off in the next room. I didn’t think anything of it, it was just a couple of random beeps. The same thing happened the next night, and again I was so into whatever I was doing I didn’t really think about it. But when it happened again the next night, it finally occurred to me that someone was trying to tell me something. I got up and went in to look at the microwave.
Very slowly, as if a child were learning to work the numbers on the keypad, the digital display spelled out ‘1-1—-11’. Awkwardly, hesitantly. I stood in front of it and watched as the display went black, and then again, this time a little more confident, a little quicker, the bright white numbers in the dark room:
11:11 11:11 11:11 11:11
Finally realizing I was receiving some kind of message, I Googled 11:11 and those of you who know, know. It’s a love thing, an eternal thing, and believe it or not it’s easier for love to be when and where it belongs when it’s needed when it’s not trapped in a meatsuit.
High five, Dad, now you know.
Oh yes – and we have an issue with the “G” word. Please use Spirit or Presence. You love someone’s Spirit or Presence, that sounds nice, but ‘ghosting’ someone, well, that’s not a nice term, is it? No. It’s not their fault we’re not listening.
We thank you, my Father and I.