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Hank's white truck stops every week at high noon at the white picket fence. Hank, the Garbage Man watches Heather the Girl, with bright red rubber gloves, pruning her roses in her garden, trying to keep them alive in the hot arid desert. She watches him as well, with furtive, momentary glances. She likes his kind ways and gestures. They both work carefully, deliberately, wanting to stay in each other's presence for as long as possible. They are slowly falling in love with each other, but both are too shy to take the first step.
So they talk about their longing for love on the radio, "The Lonely Hearts Radio Show". Every night they listen, even call in to the radio DJ and since they don't know each other's voices, they don't recognize each other. They fall in love, because it's just so perfect, what the other one says about love, as if in a dream come true.
But broken hearts of the past and fear prevent Heather and the Garbage Man to reach out to each other.
Finally Heather writes a love letter to the Garbage Man read by the DJ, Damon. And the Garbage Man replies, vowing his love for her, the letter is read again by the DJ. Damon, the cynical DJ, has seen and heard it all, yet even he wipes away a reluctant tear caused by their heartfelt love letters.
Later, when Heather and the Truck Driver see each other at the white picket fence in the blazing mid-day sun, it's not the same. The friendly gestures without words by the Garbage Man are wonderful, yet something is wrong. For Heather, they are not the same as she imagined or desired in her dreams. And the Garbage Man sees the worry on her brow, the disappointment in her eye. They are drifting apart loosing interest of each other. They are both stuck with the reality of imperfection.
Damon the DJ asks them to come to the radio station and read their letters so maybe they can meet, but they refuse. Heather writes about her fear of being rejected or abandoned yet again. And the Garbage Man, a widower, cannot bear the pain of loss. So in the end, they lie on their beds late at night, talking on the telephone, with the glowing radio nearby as they read their letters of love to each other. And this way, their longing for love, remains safe and true as in their dreams.
Theme:
vitality and creativity connected with the pursuit of material security
Light:
Femininity, opulence, fertility, truthful, stable, sensual
Shadow:
bitterness, hardening, infertility, weak , dependent
Quality:
Ties with all forms of life; Matriarchat
Profession:
In a professional aspirations the fertile waters of the Queen of the Discs signify to first secure the achieved before breaking new grounds, which then will persistently be acquired. The card represents persistence and consistency in achieving goals. And phases, marked by it, will increase security and multiply ones possession. These are creative times in which however tenacity and perseverance are of the highest virtues, because otherwise it will end up in disappointment that only a temporary upsurge have burned.
Love:
In the context of love and relationships the Mother of the Matter is the "grounded" mirror in which one recognizes, welcomes, and understands where one has arrived and what one has achieved / done. The mirror shows phases of growing familiarity, in which one has a profound feeling of safety and security. From there new areas open up.
It might be to discover new, not yet lived aspects within an existing relationship or it might be a significant step towards a true relationship. In both cases the desire for a (large) family is rooted. She maintains a strong link with Nature, loving plants, trees and animals.
It won´t be an escape, not a break-out, nothing that dramatic, but a quiet getaway, well prepared, magic in its intuition, in its immanent need.
No, I am not longing for that moment any more. I am here and now. In this body, in this garden, in this house. The house where my parents lived without love for so many years.
People call me the inheritress. In doing so, they refer to the fact that I don't have to earn money. They assume I don't work. I try to ignore what people think, or say, for they don't have the faintest idea about me.
My work is called “Seeding”. At least that's what I call it. Out here, it becomes a twenty-four hour service. A Happiness-Creating-Service. It requires tenacity. It needs calmness and inner peace. Not my typical trades. But I try. It's not that easy, surrounded by death and memories.
Once I’ve already left this place. Full of dreams, full of hope. I wanted to experience life. I didn't know anything, I was unprepared. Basically, I was yearning for love. My only strength was my youth.
I was an empty vase hopefully waiting to be filled with beauty and diversity. At once I gave my hungry heart away. First it felt warm and good. Tenderly nurtured by my lover's strong hands. I felt protected, sheltered, fed at a gentle pace. Shortly after, I realized I was wrong. My beloved became careless crushed my heart and threw it away. Then he threw away his own life.
It caught me by surprise, like an accident where you know something really bad has happened to you, but you don't know where or what it is. I went through the gluey stages of loss, they went through me. I grieved for our lost love. I grieved for the man, my beloved would never become. I grieved for the dreamy girl I once was and left behind, forever…
Of course I survived. I wasn’t well armed, but somehow I retrieved my broken heart. Put it back in its original place. It hurt. It burned. I was weak and felt sick, but deep inside I was longing. Slowly I made myself ready for the sequel to my search. I wanted my hope back. I wanted my stolen dreams back. My pain and the Bearing-Up-Against-It were my new companions. Indeed I felt a little numb, but a little better armed as well.
I’ve come across varieties of life and love. I was searching for the right place to be. Searching for the right person to be with. I was searching for the home-feel I never knew. But what would it be like? I had no tangible idea. So I tried out to design some models of perfection. Sometimes it felt as if I’ve found it. But the protection of my heart absorbed me for the most part. I moved on and on. Oh, I was driven. Sometimes I felt good and strong and gave little pieces of my heart generously away again, afterwards I was weak again.
Would this search ever end? It already took ages. My ages! What did I do wrong? What was wrong with me? What is wrong with me?
AWAKENING
…I awoke from the dream. The fever was gone. Outside I heard a loud familiar sound. The sound of the garbage truck slamming itself on the desert
floor. Finally, I sat up.
Everything
was clear now. I had to start here
again. Prepare myself. Teach myself. Arm myself. Get myself ready for life and
love once again.
For this I made a plan.
Step One:
Cleaning and beautifying the house with real positive energy in my heart.
Purpose:
Changing the negative energy of the house. Turning the cursed lifeless house
into a lucky one. Learning to care about things.
Step two:
Working on a blossoming garden.
Purpose: Create something beautiful and living. Keep it alive.
Step three:
Endure the quietness of being alone in the house, in the desert. Endure myself…
Purpose: Befriend myself.
So here
I am. Now. Seeding. Maybe harvesting one day.