Eight of Cups: Following the Stream

Above image: Huyton Wetlands, a secret we never knew in our childhood.

We grew up here. And yet we never knew that it was the source of its own river. How can that be? As children we played outside during long summery days, all around Liverpool’s suburban edge-land of Huyton. The flowing River Alt seeps out of the earth in Huyton’s own inconspicuous wetlands, hidden behind the giant Asda. It always seemed to us that ‘The Asdas’ was the true centre of Huyton: it was where the town started for us as children, the place of plenty where all the best treats came from (including Madonna tapes if you badgered your mum enough).

It turns out that this area has always been the centre of Huyton life, but not because of the shopping amenities that The Asdas offers. It turns out that people originally settled here because of the River Alt, to be by the river, as our human ancestors so often did. A freshwater source was imperative to survival, but now people buy water bottles from The Asdas and chuck the empty plastic bottles into the River Alt. Strange how this wetlands was out of our awareness as children, hidden behind the monstrous shopping block, this place where birds waded in marshes with long legs, where the ground swelled to create a seventeen-mile miracle that flows northwards into the Irish Sea.

This is a strange sort of pilgrimage that myself and my brother Chris have taken on. We are doing it in tiny chunks; with me living in Scotland, and Chris living here in Liverpool, doing the 17-mile hike in one go isn’t going to happen. The River Alt is an anchor for us, linking us to each other and to our childhood home throughout a vulnerable time for the family.

Literally the first thing we saw at the Alt was this shopping trolley!

Obviously, the first thing that we see when reaching the young stream at the wetlands is a discarded shopping trolley in the water. Classic Merseyside. We walk along the wooden walkway through the marshes to find a hidden green space full of wild grasses and gnarly oak trees, all surrounded by suburban semi-detached houses. It is a surprisingly warm and sunny afternoon in what is turning out to be an outrageously wet spring. We marvel at this hidden gem and talk about how lucky we were to have access to Nature in our childhood. There were parks, ponds and fields near our home, all surrounded by the giant motorway heading into Liverpool City Centre; inter-city traffic whooshed endlessly through wild, neglected spaces. People from the countryside would probably laugh at us considering this as access to Nature, but we know city life, and realise that for Liverpool folk, we were unusually blessed to know frogspawn, oaks and wild rabbits (even if the sound of three-lane motorways and the passing trains were always present).

We move over the road, into an alley where the stream flows behind rusting iron bars, caged like a criminal. The sun glitters starlight onto the flowing water as we lean over the railings to take in this mystery. I am now sure that I have walked through this alleyway as a child, perhaps carrying a plastic Asda bag – but did I ever notice the stream? The Universe is reflected right here, right now, in all of its beauty and its mess. I know that I should be disgusted by the state of the stream – I count 14 shopping trolleys clogging the water here – and yet this is how Nature looked to me when growing up. I find it hard to conjure outrage, and so I smile at the shopping trolleys. I smile at my working-class-ness with all of its raw honesty and mess, even though this display is causing untold damage to Nature and causing discomfort in me, too. (Richer people cause their damage in air-miles and second homes instead; nobody is the good guy here, folks.)

Above: Eight of Cups from the Waite-Smith Tarot

In the Waite-Smith Eight of Cups, a cloaked figure walks away from eight upright Cups, following the flow of the water into the hills. The Moon almost covers the Sun completely – an eclipse, a symbol of transformation. It’s a simple image that has always moved my heart. Everything seems perfect for this figure, yet they leave the cups behind, go on their pilgrimage, lean on their walking stick as they move into darker, perhaps unknown paths.

A popular saying states that you can never step in the same river twice. Likewise, you can never go backwards to live your old life again. But that doesn’t stop Chris and I from having a go. We take a detour from the stream’s course to walk down the quiet street where we grew up in the 1980s and 90s, the place where my Mum lived for over 30 years, remaining long after my Dad died, heartbroken and yet always ready for a Stock, Aitken and Waterman party in the kitchen. Mum’s home had an open-door policy for us all; whether night or day, her gentleness, silly humour, Kylie soundtrack and sweet perfume were always available.

But not today. The front door to our childhood home is open as Chris and I walk past slowly. We stop and peer inside for as long as is possible without returning into creeps. There’s the kitchen, just there. The place of the legendary family parties. The place where my earliest memory is. (I was allowed to stay home from school, despite not being sick, on the condition that I was a good boy and helped Mum do the washing. I did, but only after Fraggle Rock had finished.)

The house is perfect, like the eight standing cups. But like the arrangement in the card, there is an obvious gap. So much is missing. My Dad has gone, his dry humour evaporated into ether. My Mum has gone: her cheerful out-of-tune singing can no longer be heard in that kitchen. The little boy who tripped over his own feet, dragging the dirty washing from the machine – he has gone. Me and Chris can’t go in there.

Above: Eight of Water (Cups) from the Osho Zen Tarot: ‘Letting Go’.

Just as the water in the River Alt is constantly flowing onwards and changing, so is human life in this house. I wonder who lived there before we did? Did they ever stand in the street afterwards, just like me and Chris do now, feeling shut out of their past whilst we partied inside, imposters in their precious home?

We saw the house go on sale recently. Who has it become a new and exciting chapter for? I hope they appreciate it. 

We leave our childhood street, reluctantly. And yet, there is a sense of adventure too, as we put another date in the diary for River Alt exploration Part Two. What will the water reveal to us as we follow its route to the sea?

(Below are a series of photos that we took over the following year, capturing the River Alt and it’s surrounding landscapes throughout Merseyside. That’s my brother Chris in the photos.)

That’s all for now, friends. Thank you for being here – and please check out my Therapeutic Tarot Sessions and my courses embracing Tarot and Nature if you’d like us to work together. You can also sign up for the Tarot Blog newsletter (different to my main newsletter) below to receive occasional email updates (roughly monthly) with the latest posts.

Smiles from Scotland,

Stephen