(from Hamlet, spoken by Hamlet)
To be, or not to be, that is the question:Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to sufferThe slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,Or to take arms against a sea of troublesAnd by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,No more; and by a sleep to say we endThe heart-ache and the thousand natural shocksThat flesh is heir to: ’tis a consummationDevoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub:For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,Must give us pause—there’s the respectThat makes calamity of so long life.For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,Th’oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,The pangs of dispriz’d love, the law’s delay,The insolence of office, and the spurnsThat patient merit of th’unworthy takes,When he himself might his quietus makeWith a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,To grunt and sweat under a weary life,But that the dread of something after death,The undiscovere’d country, from whose bournNo traveller returns, puzzles the will,And makes us rather bear those ills we haveThan fly to others that we know not of?Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,And thus the native hue of resolutionIs sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,And enterprises of great pitch and momentWith this regard their currents turn awryAnd lose the name of action.
To go or to stay? To step bravely into an undiscovered inner land or to stay in the safety and security of home and grunt and sweat under a weary life. This is the question!
As I stand at the entrance of the Labyrinth sounding decidedly like poor, despondent Hamlet, the King of Pentacles, normally known as the master of stability and comfort surprises me. He makes it quite clear that he really doesn’t think that staying will sustain my spirit, especially in these dystopian times of lockdowns, curfews and mandatory mask wearing.
He tells me that now that the siren song of adventure has sounded its perfectly reasonable to chuck in the mundane everyday life and head off with that eccentric little donkey and the Raven I often keep company with.
Duncan and I agree to hit the road! However, as we plan he makes it quite clear that he is more than a little concerned about how much I am packing and asks if I really expect him to shoulder this load.
I remind him that the Suitcase I travelled with in the Forest of Enchantments was able to produce everything I needed, only to be tersely reminded me that Suitcase and I did have a falling out and we ended up being called to face the Council of the Animals.
Then, as if by magic, we heard a whooshing noise and low and behold a rather handsome Chariot materialised in front of us.
“We are happy to oblige” exclaimed the two cats pulling a very charming Gypsy wagon. “Our Gypsy Wagon has oodles of room! The only condition is that you must bring this Charioteer and the Tarot Del Feugo with you”
“Done!” I smiled! “This is one of those offers you simply cannot refuse!”
Revitalising the Inner Wild Woman 