"Artifacts from the years we can't remember..."

I have a real weak spot for purely autobiographical comics; there's something about them that's a little more personal than photographs, or even written journals and memoirs. When my friends Megan and TJ had their baby, it was sad for me to know how much I'd be missing out on because of the geographic distance between us. The Danger Science comics that TJ began posting to his blog have made me feel a lot closer to the action. They're just little vignettes of family life -- not really the kind of moments you'd point a camera at or tell someone about on the phone, but the kind that make up the fabric of our everyday lives. Since that's exactly the sort of thing you miss out on when you're friends with someone long-distance, I have found these updates to be hugely gratifying. It doesn't hurt that TJ has a real talent for visual storytelling (I also enjoy his ongoing comic The Konamis!, about a quartet of crime-fighting musicians).

But what I find particularly interesting about this method of storing memories is that they're going to be quite valuable to the baby in question when he grows up. Artifacts from the years we can't remember always hold a special power over us, and so do pictures of our parents when they were young. TJ's comics are the best of both worlds, providing a sort of running prequel to Jonas' own still-forming narrative. As a parent, it's a significant gift to give, and I see more and more people using the internet as a sort of a living time-capsule for these kinds of projects.

It's this aspect of TJ's work that made me think of the Ten of Cups. (See also, last cycle's King of Cups.) We're already familiar with the card as an emblem of arrival, of togetherness and success and satisfaction -- but that momentum must be carried forward, invested somehow, before it's squandered or collapses under its own weight. Everyone invests in their future happiness (and each other's) in different ways. Depending on the eye of the beholder, this card encourages new emotional, professional, or creative endeavors as a way of perpetuating the love you already feel. When the peak you've just climbed turns out to be merely the foundation for even higher hopes and grander schemes, what will you do with that discovery? Probably what you've already done in the past -- only this time you'll do it even better, and more people than ever before will benefit.

Previously On Arcanalogue: The Ten of Cups