Steampunk Strength

I took today off(ish) – I still had a lot to get done, but I let myself focus on the things I wanted to do.

One important project was to get started on tidying up my bedroom so that I can set up a small desk and have a space to write, where I can close the door and have some quiet to work even on days when the kids are here. Right now my office space is in the dining room, and that’s fine when the kids are occupied or not here, but it doesn’t work when they’re loud or need attention.

As I was organizing things, I came across the Steampunk Tarot.

I bought it over a year and a half ago and had never opened it. I bought it at a difficult period in my life and it never felt like the right time to open it and use it. I bought it for the wrong reasons – it was supposed to be something that would help me bond with my partner, at a time when he was still unsure whether being with me was the right thing for him. I bought it out of desperation, and the hope that I could, by offering enough fun bonding activities, force the connection.

I should have trusted that the connection wouldn’t need to be forced, and I should have known that forcing it wouldn’t be the right way to approach it anyway.

Thankfully, even though I bought the deck for the wrong reasons, I never opened it and tried to use it the way I had first intended. Instead, it sat in its cellophane for a long time, until today.

Today, it felt right.

I was here, at home, alone. The house was quiet. I cleared off some space on the kitchen table, opened up the deck, and shuffled.

It felt really good.

The cards felt good.

The steampunk design felt good.

It just felt like the right time to meet this new deck.

When I was done shuffling, I cut the deck and drew a card.

Steampunk strength

From the book (edited):

“Thank you for your kind aid. Instead of devouring you, I will serve you.”

Core meaning: Calm control and healing that brings strength.

Cards from older tarot decks show a human wrestling a wild lion. This expressed the idea that people had a wild, or evil, side of themselves that must be constantly fought, repressed, and controlled or it would take them over and utterly destroy them.

This woman suggests a different tack. She believes the lion that stalks her is simply a symbol of her shadow self. In Jungian terms, the shadow self is comprised of all the parts of ourselves that we dislike, don’t value, and are ashamed of. These parts, she says, are not bad in and of themselves; rather, they are aspects of ourselves that have been wounded.

She counsels that we approach our inner monsters with compassion, because that makes it easier to determine what caused the damage in the first place. Once we identify the root cause, we can remove it, just as she has extracted that gear from her lion’s paw. Yes, it hurts, and yes, it is scary. The lion will probably roar – you may even get scratched or bitten. But it must be done, for only then can healing begin. From this healing comes strength.

What we hid from – our anger, our fear, our emotional needs [I would add, our trauma] – we now welcome and learn how to express in our lives in a healthy and useful manner.

When confronted with the Strength card, you are well advised to tap into your deepest inner strength and express it with calm compassion. The infinity symbol in this card represents your connection with all aspects of yourself. In this card, it creates amazing strength. Find that connection; feel that strength.

This was both exactly what I needed to hear, and exactly what I have been talking about recently. It felt like such a lovely confirmation.

I’ve spent a bit of time with the book and it just feels so good. I love steampunk aesthetic, and I love the ways in which steampunk culture has the potential to envision inclusive and socially just past-futures. (That said, I don’t love how a lot of steampunk culture ends up being very colonialist, white supremacist, heteronormative, transantagonistic, and misogynist.)

I’m so glad I found this deck today, and had some time to spend with it. I am pretty excited about seeing what stories we can tell together, and I love the reminder to find wholeness and integration, to make space for my monsters and to find strength in healing.

Business communication spread

I picked up Sasha Graham’s book 365 Tarot Spreads, and today’s spread is a 9-card business communication spread.

Since I’m continuing to navigate the early days of my new business(es) (check out my website! support my Patreon!), it seemed worth doing.

1 – What is my vision?

The Fool. Yes!!! This is my heart card. And it feels so right for my work now – leaning into vulnerabilities, finding creative ways forward, navigating new stories and helping other people find their way through self-care and self-storying. Transitions, and the beginnings of journeys. Courage. Willingness to step forward, to take risks, to fail and to try again. Yes.

2 – What opens my perception to hear others?

The Hanged Man. Staying still, looking at things from new perspectives, letting myself be present with the discomfort and with experiences that are outside of my normal. I like this.

3 – How do I present myself in the best way possible?

Six of Cups. Reaching back into my memories, engaging my sense of playfulness, sharing my history and building community. Grounding myself in my roots (and finding my roots – I also read this as an invitation to explore my own cultural history as well, and to mine my memories for richness and depth when it comes to self-care strategies and narratives).

4 – How do I maintain clarity?

King of Wands. Stay focused on moving forward, ground myself in the fiery energy of the wands and be confident in my approach. I read this as a reminder that I do have the skills that I need, and that clarity comes when I stop doubting myself and hesitating.

5 – Do I adequately express enthusiasm?

The Hermit. I think this pairs with the King of Wands, and is a bit of poke at my deep reluctance to do any real marketing or promotion. How can people find me, and work with me, if I’m hermiting away for fear of failure? There are times when The Hermit is a great card to sit with, but here I think it’s a reminder to not engage so much of this hidden and inward-turned energy.

6 – What helps me negotiate?

The Wheel of Fortune. Flexibility and an awareness that things change. I read this as encouragement when it comes to my growing focus on the Patreon rather than the standard services-for-payment business, because the Patreon is much more in line with my socialist leanings and my desire to make my work freely available, so that people can find it regardless of their changing circumstances. It’s also a reminder of why sliding scale is built into everything I do.

7 – Am I following up in the best way possible?

Four of Wands. This is such a sweet and encouraging card – especially in the Shadowscapes deck, in this position, in this spread. The leaping gazelles are graceful and coordinated, and the card’s focus on peacefulness, restfulness, and stability is really encouraging. Often, I feel like everything is chaos and struggle right now. This card suggests to me that even though there is chaos and struggle, for sure, I am doing the best that I can in this situation, and my ongoing efforts are coordinated and there is some grace underneath all the flailing. This is a sigh of relief.

8 – What stands in my way?

Queen of Cups. This card means so much to me, and in this position I really had to stop and reflect on it. Are my emotions standing in my way? No. But, given how immobilized I have felt at points in the last few weeks, I think my desire to master my emotions is standing in my way. I need to embrace more of The Fool’s energy, and allow myself to be early in the journey. The desire to not move forward unless I can move forward with mastery is getting in my way.

9 – How can I use communication to grow my business in the best way possible?

Hilariously, Seven of Cups. I read this more as the deck sassing me over my lack of a clear focus, and perhaps as an invitation to embrace that lack of clarity and just be open with my potential clients about the false starts and uncertainty – about both the lofty visions and the confusion.

I find it interesting that this business communication spread didn’t include any swords or any pentacles. Nothing about airy element that governs communication, and nothing about the earthy coins that look at material positions and possessions.

It’s all Cups and Wands and Majors – heart and hand and the journey. Feeling my way forward!

Stay with the trouble

stay with the trouble spread

One of my favourite spreads is this three-card spread.

The first (top) card is the situation, or me within the situation.

The card on the left is the wrong path, or what I should be careful of.

The card on the right is the right path, or what could be helpful.

When I pulled these cards yesterday, I had a super intense reaction of joy to the Knight of Wands. Finally I’m away from the fives! Finally it is my time to act! To move forward confidently and assertively! The embrace action, and the forwardness of a Knight!

(Note, that card’s on the left. I am not great at left/right. It took me a solid minute of delightedly imagining myself charging forward before I realized my mistake.)

Once I did realize my mistake, I was a little bit crushed. More than a little bit crushed.

But my approach to tarot has always been that the cards offer a conversation, a map, an invitation. They do not dictate absolutely, and they do not close doors – they offer ways of seeing, ways of knowing, ways of moving forward.

I try to approach every tarot spread with some openness, some reflectiveness.

If, after breathing with it for a moment, I really had felt like the Knight of Wands was the right path, my personal approach to tarot leaves the option open to switch those cards around. I have had very positive experiences with shifting the narrative in a spread by moving cards around, drawing new cards, and engaging in the conversation.

But, sitting on my “read as soon as possible” bookshelf is Donna Haraway’s book Staying With The Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene. As I looked at the Five of Wands – yet another five, my third in three readings, challenges everywhere – I thought about Haraway’s book. I wondered if there is wisdom in staying with this trouble.

This morning, after another night of staying away and thinking about gender things and parenting things and oppression things, and dreaming about my dogs who have been gone a long time – after another difficult night following weeks of difficult nights – I pulled Haraway’s book off the shelf.

Trouble is an interesting word. It derives from the thirteenth-century French verb meaning “to stir up,” “to make cloudy,” to disturb.” We – all of us on Terra – live in disturbing times, mixed-up times, troubling and turbid times. The task is to become capable, with each other in all of our bumptious kinds, of response. Mixed-up times are overflowing with both pain and joy – with vastly unjust patterns of pain and joy, with unnecessary killing of ongoingness but also with necessary resurgence. The task is to make kin in lines of inventive connection as a practice of learning to live and die well with each other in a thick present. Our task is to make trouble, to stir up potent response to devastating events, as well as to settle troubled waters and rebuild quiet places. In urgent times, many of us are tempted to address trouble in terms of making an imagined future safe, of stopping something from happening that looms in the future, of clearing away the present and the past in order to make futures for coming gnerations. Staying with teh trouble does not require such a relationship to times called the future. In fact, staying with the trouble requires learning to be truly present, not as a vanishing pivot between awful or edenic pasts and apocalyptic or salcific futures, but as mortal critters entwined in myriad unfinished configurations of places, times, matters, meanings.

Donna Haraway, Introduction, Staying With the Trouble

“Our task is to make trouble, to stir up potent response to devastating events, as well as to settle troubled waters and rebuild quiet places.”

Oof.

Right in the feels.

And so, this spread that suggests staying with the trouble, that keeps me in the fives of the deck, ends up feeling right in an uncomfortable and hopeful way. Make trouble. Stir up potent response to devastating events. Settle troubled waters. Rebuild quiet spaces.

The ideas of settling troubled waters and rebuilding quiet spaces echo back to that Five of Pentacles earlier in the week. Find ways to bring peace, quiet, and calm to my home base. Set boundaries around how much the trouble agitates at home and in my relationships. Find connection, and create quiet spaces within which that connection can flourish.

And the idea of stirring up potent responses to devastating events calls back to the Five of Swords, and the idea of choosing the fight and knowing the cost.

The way forward, the right path, is the Five of Wands. Staying with the trouble.

And myself, at the centre, The Magician. Intention. Will.

As Beth at Little Red Tarot says,

Begin, now, with what you have.

A phrase I’ve been banging on about lately. This Magician doesn’t have much in the way of material resources. Yet they have everything they need. This is a perfect, poised moment, having gathered their personal resources – the four elements hanging from those wings – they now reach for the fifth. This is the moment of asking, the very moment of intention setting. You can already see the magic happening – that green ball or energy, levitating between their hands, the lemniscate glowing above their head. Something exciting is about to happen… because The Magician wills it so.

In this card, I read an invitation to maintain balance – to keep each of my many selves present. Not to get lost in one specific fight or one kind of “trouble” – to keep each element in balance.

And I also read an invitation to stay focused, and to remember my power. To draw on the resources I do have, rather than getting lost in hopelessness thinking about the resources I don’t have. To be creative, inventive, intentional in my actions.

To stay with the trouble, but to keep an untroubled space within myself.

To be with it, and not to be it.

It feels useful, and helpful.

It’s a narrative I can work with.

It’s a map to self-care that I can read, a way forward that makes sense to me.

Still in the fives, but recognizing the potential that comes with that challenge.

The Lesson from 2016: Justice

Today’s question was, what lesson did I learn in 2016?

The answer was Justice.

In the Shadowscapes deck, she is a flame-haired creature with closed eyes, broad black and white wings, a long white feather in her left hand and scales surrounded by butterflies in her right. She is balanced on long, twisted branches, and there are red threads at her waist and holding the scales. The crescent moon is behind her. Her left wing is twisted, maybe broken, but she doesn’t seem in pain. She seems at peace.

I had a complicated response to this card, and this image.

That broken wing… I’ve never noticed it before. I’ve drawn this card at least a dozen times in various readings – probably many more – and I’ve never seen that broken wing. But tonight, it’s the first thing I noticed.

And the first thing I thought, when I saw the card? “Make your choices. Think them through, and act on them.”

That’s the lesson – make the choice.

Act.

Make the choice.

Do the thing.

Take the step.

Accept the consequences.

I know that Justice is not The Fool, or maybe she’s The Fool after the fall (is that where her wing got broken?). So I know she is not the beginning of the journey. But that’s what I associate with the card – the idea of choices, acting on them, being true to them, accepting the consequences of them, knowing that actions have impacts.

And that wing. That broken wing.

So, in this card, I also see peace with the damage that results from those choices. Acceptance. That red thread of connection. The butterflies – they come completely undone during the transition from caterpillar to butterfly. The pain and the damage is real, and permanent.

2016 was a year of undoing. Unbecoming. Doing. Becoming.

There is damage.

There is a lot of pain.

There is a lot of peace, and joy, as well.

In 2016, I moved out of the home I had purchased less than a year earlier with my anchor partner. I moved in with someone else – someone I fell in love with when we were only supposed to be friends, and I thought we would only ever be friends, until he fell in love with me too and his monogamous relationship exploded, shattering along fault lines that long pre-dated me, and then ended.

And wow, the feelings attached to that, and to the fear that maybe I am a monster? A homewrecking whore, like I’m sure I’ve been called? I know how I behaved, and that I stayed true to my principles. I know that adults have agency and that I did not undermine or destroy their relationship. (Gulp back the desire to list all the ways in which I was supportive of their relationship despite my own desires.)

I know that the choices I’ve made are the right ones for me, and that I didn’t push him towards his choice to leave. I know that this new life fits me so well that even despite all the stress and the change and suddenly step-parenting two young neurodivergent kids, my fibro is better than it has been in years.

But still. That broken wing.

The airy/swordsy feel of this card.

The pain of it.

The way it says, “make the choice, and know the consequences.”

The way this year has hurt – moving out, and causing pain there. Pain on both sides. The relationship survived the transition, but there was so much pain. (Polyamory does not make you impervious to relationship pain.) Seeing the pain caused to all my partners as I struggled with this transition and hurt them in my flailing. Seeing the pain of that other relationship dissolving over the last half of 2015, and the echoes of that through this year. Knowing that his ex did not want to be his ex.

That broken wing.

But the card is so peaceful, despite that.

And when I take a deep breath and check in with my deeper self, I am at peace with these choices and their consequences in my core.

This is the right thing for me.

I can’t make anyone else’s choices or speak for their lives, but almost a year into this it seems like it is better for him and for his ex, and even for the kids who have so many more loving adults involved in their daily lives on both sides of the equation. (Which is not to minimize the difficulty of coparenting or the stress on the kids – but they are thriving.)

Anyway.

The lesson from 2016 is a difficult one.

Justice.

As Beth at Little Red Tarot writes,

“There’s another lesson in this card – it’s not just about accepting the consequences of the past. Justice also teaches us that we have the power to shape our own destinies. If today I am facing the consequences of yesterday’s decisions, then tomorrow I will face the consequences of today’s. So what am I going to do? Closely linked to the themes of the Swords suit, Justice encourages us not only to understand the consequences of the past, but also to think things through today, so as to help create the future we desire.”

It’s a lesson to take forward, to remember.

Where I am now is so right for me, and my choices as I go forward will shape the future I end up in.

Finding the way forward

The last week has been brutal. I haven’t touched my cards since the election (and the subsequent email from Kellie Leitch up here in Canada – we are far from safe, far from clear of the poison of white supremacy and xenophobia and misogyny and racism and hate).

have been working. A lot.

My coaching page is up on Facebook – you can find it here – and I’m posting daily self-care tips. I’m working on content for upcoming workshops and getting my website ready to launch. I have a business account, my business name is registered, and I’m prepping hard for an official launch in the new year.

But it’s been a rough week. Holy wow, it’s been a rough week.

This morning I finally felt centred enough to do some tarot.

I did my favourite five card spread. First, the situation, then the right path and the wrong path, then cards for why each path is what it is.

fullsizerender

So, the situation. The Wheel of Fortune, reversed. Big, bad change. Cataclysmic change.

The right path: The Fool. Moving forward, having faith, taking risks. Foolish bravery. And, for me, this is my heart card. This is the card that comes up again and again when I need a reminder to be true to myself. So, risk-taking, movement, leaps of faith, and being who I am. I will not retreat into a closet again. I will be wide open to this world, even when it’s turning to the dark.

Why: Page of Cups. Because this is where I will find the “well of love,” as Beth Maiden at Little Red Tarot calls this card. This is where I will find:

a sort of making-it-right quality. And within that, I find an accepting-wrongdoing quality. Because accepting and trying to heal our mistakes is an act of love, and a creative act. It requires us to look into ourselves for that well of love, and put aside self-motivated, petty, angry thoughts.

It’s a hard ask in a time when I want to be angry and petty. (And, to be clear, I think there absolutely is a need for anger right now – deep anger, anger that motivates us to act, to stand up against hate and violence and bigotry. But this card is a reminder that anger can be wielded in many ways, and petty anger right now is not helpful.)

The Page of Cups as the “why” for The Fool as my right path speaks so gently to me about deep love, about making space for the overflowing cup of emotions in my self and my communities. Moving forward heart-first and with love. Finding healing.

These cards tell me a story of moving forward bravely and authentically, engaging my emotional self in the work.

In contrast, the wrong path: The Hanged Man. Motionless, trapped, upside down, disoriented. This path is so tempting, because that Wheel has turned and the world does seem so upside down (it seems that way to me, from my position of privilege. I know that for many people of colour, and especially Black women and Indigenous communities, this is not a turning of the Wheel but an acknowledgement of the rubble they’ve been buried under for generations. My shock betrays my privilege.)

Why is this the wrong path: Two of Swords. Because now is not the time for weighing both sides of the debate. Allowing myself to be bound by the feelings of helplessness and horror, and trying to intellectualize an understanding of how this happened rather than moving forward along the path. It will lead to a stalemate, an impasse, an inability to engage with the emotions that need to be felt. In so many ways, it is the exact opposite of the Page of Cups and her watery wholeheartedness. This sharp, airy, arid immobilization is why letting myself hang upside down in horror is not the response right now.

I am reminded, again, of the talk I saw late last week with G. Willow Wilson, the fantastic creator of the new Ms. Marvel, Kamala Khan – Marvel’s first Muslim superhero. Wilson said that sometimes, the mess stays messy. Sometimes there is not a way out, but there is always a way forward. This sentiment has become the guiding principle in how I’m shaping all of my coaching materials – moving away from the victim-blaming “law of attraction” model of coaching and towards something that acknowledges systemic oppression, takes into account the ways in which there is not always a way out, and offers tools and support for moving forward.

I am going to keep moving forward.

I’m grateful for the power of narrative, and the ability of stories to provide hope and inspiration. When I look at the Page of Cups and the Two of Swords, I know which character I want to inhabit. When I look at The Fool and The Hanged Man, I know which one I want to be right now.

Let’s go. Foolishly, bravely, forward.

tiffquote

 

Two Readings

I’ve been doing my card of the days, but I’ve also been having a really hard time and writing about them has been challenging. But this morning I did two spreads and they were intense, so here they are.

My question was “what are the outcomes if I … ?” And I couldn’t even formulate the question. Because I didn’t know if I wanted to know what happens if I let go of my love, or if I hold on. So I drew an initial card to set the question. It was the Father of Wands. Truth, self-knowledge, awareness, just, analytical, fair. I took this to mean “hold on” so the first question I asked was “what are the outcomes if I hold on?”

I did a full circle spread – a card for each element, plus support cards between.

The Wild Unknown tarot
The Wild Unknown tarot

My physical outcome if I hold on? The Son of Swords, reversed. It will be difficult to maintain my health if I hold on. I already know this. The roller coaster and the emotional pain is taking a huge toll on my physical well-being. Remembering to eat, remembering to drink, remembering to stretch – all difficult. Breathing, finding my solid centre, grounding – all difficult. Yesterday when I was writing through what I was feeling, I said this – “There’s a particular flavour of anxiety that comes with these long stretches of non-contact. It sits very specifically in my body. My hips tighten. My lower belly feels like a threatening storm, tightening and tightening and tightening and tightening. I feel a little bit queasy. My lower back tightens, everything attached to my sacrum gets sticky and tight. It pulls my mid-back out of alignment, and my scoliosis pulls my shoulders out, and it’s just everything from my shoulders to my hips, tight and out of alignment. My breath gets tight. I find myself sighing a lot. My breath stops at my solar plexus, it never gets down to clear the storm cloud in my lower torso.” This reversed Son of Swords tells me holding on means more of that.

Emotional? The Four of Swords. Stillness, peace, rest. A hopeful card. The outcome of holding on will be emotional peace. (I might have cried a bit here.) I want to believe this so badly. I want this to be true. I want to know that if I hold on, the emotional outcome will be good.

Mental? Five of Wands. Yeah, also not shocking. Confusion, feeling at odds with myself (and with him), moving in too many directions at once. But I don’t find the Five of Wands a card of misery or doom (unlike, say, the Ten of Swords). It’s possible to get the wands working together. But it’s tough. If I hold on, I will have a lot of mental gymnastics to keep myself balanced.

Spiritual? The Chariot. This also hit me like a punch to the gut. Our connection is what sparked my spiritual journey, and apparently it has the potential to keep my journey moving forward.

So physically and mentally, holding on is going to suck. Emotionally and spiritually, it’s the right choice.

Then the support cards.

Bridging my physical and emotional – The Emperor reversed. My sense of stability, uprooted. (But I couldn’t help thinking, as I looked at the tall tree upside down on the card, of the Hanged Man, and how flipping the world upside down can sometimes be necessary for growth.)

Bridging emotional and mental – Three of Pentacles. Teamwork, determination. An antidote to the Five of Wands, or support in getting through it? Or does this refer to the many people around me who keep me balanced – I am blessed with a beautiful and generous community.

Bridging mental and spiritual – The World. Completion, wholeness. Another counter to the Five of Wands, a card that comes up often in readings about our relationship, and a card that resonates even when I don’t want it to. When we are together, I do feel a sense of calm, peace, wholeness. Then we are apart, and I feel nothing but The Emperor reversed. I don’t know how to cope with it. And this reading doesn’t promise any change to that if I hold on, only that there are positive outcomes and support available if that’s my choice.

Bridging spiritual and physical – The Wheel of Fortune. It will change. It won’t always be like this. Fuck, do I ever need this to be true.

Then I reversed the Father of Swords in the centre of the reading. What are the outcomes if I let go?

The Wild Unknown tarot
The Wild Unknown tarot

Physical – The Four of Cups, reversed. Either selfishness or self-preservation, reversed. Blocked. I don’t know how to read this, because my gut says “you think that letting go will give you peace and be the self-preserving/selfish option, but it won’t – that outcome is inverted” and I feel ridiculous for that gut reaction. This card seems to tell me that letting go won’t give me the physical peace that I crave, even though I think it will.

Emotional – The Ten of Swords. Apparently, letting go would be The Literal Worst. Rock bottom. Melodrama. And here, I imagine the cards saying “you want to let go because you want to get off the roller coaster, but you already know that’s not the right answer for you. If you try it, you’re aiming for nothing but drama.”

Mental – The Ten of Cups, reversed. I don’t normally read the Ten of Cups as reversible in the Wild Unknown deck, because the numeral reads the same right side up or reversed, and the image also doesn’t change. But here it feels important to note that even though letting go would allow me to have more harmony in my mental self, there is something inverted and blocked about that. There would be more peace, but it would be off.

Spiritual – The Hierophant, reversed. Hold on – The Chariot. Move forward, keep growing. Let go? Lose that mentorship and wisdom that I have been finding as a result of this journey, lose that opportunity to grow.

Bridging physical and emotional – Seven of Pentacles. Progress, even a sense of stability. Overlaid on the reversed Emperor, this card highlights the difference between the “easy” path of letting go and getting off the ride, and the “hard” path of holding on. Which do I choose?

Bridging emotional and mental – Ace of Cups, reversed. Love, blocked.

Bridging mental and spiritual – High Priestess, reversed. Self-knowledge, blocked.

Bridging spiritual and physical – Ten of Pentacles, reversed. Again, a card that I don’t normally read as reversible in this deck because of the way the numeral reads that same both ways and the image also stays the same. And like the Seven of Pentacles and the Ten of Cups, this card shows me that there is calm and peace possible in letting go. But then, the reversal. There is calm and peace, but there’s something off about it.

So what do I do? What do I do.

I pull one more card.

The Seven of Swords from the Wild Unknown tarot.
The Seven of Swords from the Wild Unknown tarot.

The Seven of Swords. Be cautious. Watch my back. It’s not an answer as to whether I should hold on or let go, but it’s a pointer as to how I should behave while I’m deciding.

Card of the Day + a Jumper: Temperance and the Five of Pentacles

Temperance, from The Wild Unknown tarot
Temperance, from The Wild Unknown tarot

I drew Temperance today for my card of the day. I woke up feeling sad, uncertain, discouraged. Not sure how to balance my hopes with my fears, where to find the space for a more healthy approach to what’s happening in my life. The card seems pretty on-point.

But before I pulled Temperance, the Five of Pentacles jumped out while I was shuffling. I kept it aside as a commentary, especially because it seems so relevant. The background noise to today’s question is, indeed, the Five of Pentacles. Sadness.

I wish I had more to say today, but I feel like it’s a day for thinking and feeling, more than for saying. It’s a day to droop. But maybe to find some balance, also.

The Five of Pentacles, from The Wild Unknown tarot
The Five of Pentacles, from The Wild Unknown tarot