Fabio Saavedra Where Are You?

“Flowers In Sunlight”

This is a chapter in my book “Compassionate Tarot Companion”.
The book’s overview with download & 2 chapters … {-here-}
All blog posts that are chapters … {-here-}

Here’s the project test for the Simple Tarot.

Fabio Saavedra, where are you? You were a friend. I had two of your paintings on my walls for years. I have a folder of your drawings.

Your apartment just across from mine, across the poor and lovely courtyard Microcosm, where the Five of Cups stood waiting to be seen and where the Wheel of Fortune hung before my startled gaze one morning in the opened air, your apartment, that cool dark den of conversations.

Where are your brother and your father and your mother and your wife? Where is your little baby boy?

Houston, summer 1980. I will never forget your gener­os­ity that day, the invitation to your brother’s airy sunny house, where several of your pieces were arrayed along a wall and, much to my surprise, some honored per­son suddenly arrived, a famous critical writer visiting from South America, your brother whispered to my whis­pered inquiry, there that day to view your paintings and advise.

I never will forget the manner. Utterly courteous and utterly confident of competence amid the nervous­ness that filled the house. Here was the Four of Wands indeed.

And when the honored critic, fragrant cigarette held delicately in fingertips to be a sort of ceremonial wand, duly progressing down your wall of paintings, nodding calming mur­mured affirmations of your expla­nations and your work itself, came to the little dining table where you’d stationed me, I duly arose with my little half completed deck of hand­made paper cards in hand, seeing smiles around me, and made bold to speak with gestures of utmost humble courtesy, apologetic for the English which he did not understand and for the excess inches of my physical height, holding out the deck tenta­tively and shrug­ging, asking if he’d care to see a work in progress.

I never will forget your generosity that day, to share a treasured resource.

He found the pictures interesting. He manifestly did. He found some of them actually arresting, pausing for a moment, murmuring assent, as they filed before his eyes from hand to hand within the fragrant smoke.

Perhaps the Eight of Coins was one of those, its political dimensions being so acute in 1980 South America, although it was the man’s Native face I prin­cipally watched, in its intel­ligent pleasure in surprise.

Handing them back, smiling encouragement and nodding, repeating twice some word I did not know, he positively said the piece of work is good, smiling round to all, returning to the pleasant task for which he’d come.

So the project went on with confidence renewed. The damn things worked.

Fabio Saavedra, you are still a friend.

(- Here is the end of this blog post.-)

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