When you first gaze into the cup of water inside you, are you ever surprised by the unexpected "fish" that peeks out? The Page of Cups is an emotional novice, holding a cup of wonder, with an expression full of curiosity and gentleness. He doesn't yet understand this emotion, but he is willing to observe it, listen to it, and have a dialogue with it.
After that warm night at the small pub, Leo's world was no longer pure white. He began to allow some colors to seep in. But he still didn't know how to handle the strange emotion stirring inside him. He was captivated by the flower shop girl (her name was Anna), but this fascination scared him. He was used to having control, and emotion, by its nature, could not be controlled.
He chose to "study" it in the only way he knew how. He returned to his studio but didn't touch the hard stone. He took out a block of soft clay and began to try his hand at sculpting. He tried to sculpt Anna's face but failed again and again. The clay in his hands was either too stiff or it collapsed, just like his mood.
He frustratedly slammed a ball of clay onto the table and closed his eyes. What appeared in his mind, however, were Anna's eyes. They were like clear lake water, and he felt himself sinking into them. Suddenly, a vision flashed: a tiny, silvery fish leaped from the center of the lake, then playfully fell back into the water, creating a ripple.
Leo's eyes snapped open. That was it! That emotion was like that fish! It wasn't a fixed shape but something living, unexpected, and full of vitality. It leaped from the deep sea of his subconscious, winked at him in a language he couldn't understand.
His hands touched the clay again. This time, he didn't try to sculpt a specific image. He simply followed the feeling inside, molding a simple, plain cup. Then, using the finest carving tool, he carved a small fish on the inner wall of the cup, as if it were swimming in water.
When he was done, he stared blankly at the finished piece in his hands. It was so simple, so imperfect, yet it moved him more than any of his previous works. He held it carefully, as if it were a secret, a newborn miracle that belonged only to him. He didn't know what this cup meant or what to do with it. But he knew he was willing to take the time to gaze at it and listen to the fish's monologue.
He stopped trying to analyze emotion and began to learn how to coexist with it.
【Echo from the Mirror】
What kind of "fish" is peeking out from the holy grail within you? It could be a new affection, a spark of creative inspiration, or a kind of sadness you've never experienced before. Are you willing to be a curious Page, quietly observing it, allowing it to exist without rushing to define it?