divination, life

The Ten of Swords Strikes Again

Last time I drew the Ten of Swords, it didn’t take long to manifest — by the next day, I was sicker than I think I’ve ever been in my life. I’m hoping that that isn’t the case here, for obvious reasons.

This week, I used the Tarot de Maria Celia again. I’m getting the hang of interpreting the pips cards and, to be honest, it’s become one of my favorite decks. In Rider-Waite-Smith-inspired decks, the Ten of Swords typically shows a dead or distressed figure, stabbed by ten swords.

Swords10
Image from the Rider-Waite-Smith deck, artwork by Pamela Coleman Smith.

The Tarot de Maria Celia offers no such imagery; it’s the culmination of the cycle of the suit of Épées, and that can mean a lot of different things.

Don’t get me wrong, none of them are really positive. It can still stand for a time of pain or betrayal. It’s still the end of this pain, though. It’s the last numerical card in the suit, which makes it’s the last low point.

As the suit of the logical mind, the Dix D’Épées can stand for a point where the thiking mind has matured, after a cycle of pain and difficulty. Like the Ten of Swords, it’s also a sudden, crushing loss — the kind I think most of us are feeling right now, in one form or another.

This card can also stand for exhaustion, physical and mental. The Tens of any suit are the ultimate end, after the whole cycle of the suit itself. This can mean enjoying the fruits of your labor, like the Ten of Pentacles. It can also mean collapsing, gasping, at the finish line after you’ve spent yourself going through a gauntlet. With how I’ve been feeling, I can understand that. Exhaustion is a trauma response, and I think we’ve all been going through the wringer.

If the Ten of Swords/Épées offers a hope spot, it’s that things won’t be this way forever. As I mentioned before, it’s the culmination. It’s a card of logic. It says that, if we can take a bird’s eye view of our pain and maintain perspective, we can take solace in the fact that we won’t be suffering forever, and use this opportunity to analyze the situation and figure out how to keep this from happening again.

I can brace myself for bad news, but at least the bad news won’t last.

A sitting meerkat.
Blog, life

Isolation Blues

I’m tired.

Not in the sense that a lot of us are, I don’t think — I’m mentally tired, sure, but I’m so sleepy. Part of it is my body continuing to adjust to having serotonin for the first time in my life, part of it is that it’s March, which means starting up this year’s round of antihistamines. Part of it is a trauma response.

Brains use energy, and a lot of it. Between figuring out how to supply ourselves, stay safe, maintain social distancing, properly decontaminate after venturing out in public, stay sane at home, take care of our children and elderly people, and deal with the constant stress of isolation during a pandemic, a lot of us are burning the candle at both ends and the middle, too. And it’s so tiring.

I’m still watching webinars like they’re going out of style. Still taking Udemy classes. I’ve also been immersing myself into the kind of weird, surrealist nonsense that calls to me — I started playing Dujanah (which is strange, chaotic, haunting, painful, and gorgeous) and AENTITY (as frustrating as it is eerily beautiful) last night, and I’ve got The Dream Machine waiting for me. Re-reading (observing?) the Codex Seraphinianus. Probably going to watch Mononoke later, so I can lose myself in color, pattern, and yokai stories for awhile. Might watch MirrorMask tomorrow.

mirrormask

At times, my building seems normal. The furnace still clunks and bangs, the exit still beeps when you leave it open for too long.

Sometimes, it’s like something out of REC. None of us know how long this is going to last, and I don’t think anyone actually trusts the people in charge to make the right decision anymore. This complex houses a lot of people — some are very old, some are young families. Some have children with neuroatypicalities. Some are mentally ill. Some are dependent on drugs to get through the day. Everyone’s experiencing the isolation differently, and some people are having an easier time weathering it than others. Some days, one of my neighbors wails. Some days, another screams at invisible antagonists in the hallway as he pounds on doors and yanks doorknobs. Some of my neighbors had resources in the community that helped them get through life, whether treatment centers or adult day care. I’m wondering if I should try to go for the lumbar puncture my brain needs, or stay home and hope I don’t have a seizure or lose more of my vision. Everyone’s wearing thin. I wish I had something to offer other than dry pasta and home-made hand sanitizer.

I have rituals, and I have prayers, but there’s a need for more immediate relief. Magically manipulating things on a subtle, energetic level only does so much so quickly, and this reaches farther and moves faster than one person’s energy can.

Thank you for reading here and listening to me kvetch, I’ll resume more upbeat posting (as soon as I’ve been able to have maybe six or seven naps). Here’s hoping this post finds you healthy, at home, with a full pantry and people you like.

 

 

divination, life

The Nine of Wands

I didn’t really want to draw a card today.

One thing I’ve learned from reading tarot is that you shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. I wasn’t going to ask.

Still, I needed something to do with my hands, and I have more time and decks than I know what to do with, sometimes. I was waiting for the results of a well check — I’ve called and called my grandfather for days, and gotten no response. He’s very independent for his age, but I still worry (especially now). When another day passed with no answer, I bit the bullet and asked for someone to check on him.

(He’s okay. He was sick, but he’ll be home tomorrow.)

So, agitated and with shaky hands, I forced myself to put my phone down and shuffle a deck instead. I didn’t even really ask a question, I just wanted something to do.

I drew the Nine of Wands.

This card speaks of setbacks and obstacles. It’s the ninth in the cycle — the third card of the third card — the Penultimate End, but not the End End. It’s a conclusion, but not a culmination. It’s challenges, it’s exhaustion.

It kind of sucks.

The silver lining to the Nine of Wands is that, coming as it does at the end of the end, it means that you have a lot of knowledge and resources to draw on. Things are tough. You might be feeling mistrustful, worn out, ready to give it up. When you can leave the past behind and push onward, you can make it throught.

I hope we can.

A sitting meerkat.
life, Neodruidry

I’m either coming out of this a genius, or with library paste for a brain.

I started isolation (okay, maybe not “started” — I don’t exactly keep an explosive social calendar) with the idea that I could take this time to do things. Clean my house! Meditate a lot! Start a new journal! Do a bunch of work!

Instead, I’m on my couch in my bathrobe and eating most of an apple pie for breakfast.

That’s okay, though. From the sound of things, so are a lot of other people.

That said, I was approved to study the ADF Initiate Path! It took two weeks of deliberation, and another two of voting, but I can start.
I just need the mental bandwidth to do it. Like the Dedicant Path, it’s a lot of reading, a lot of skill-building, and a lot of writing.

I have signed up for basically every web summit, webinar, and video course that’d have me, though. Three classes on Udemy. Something called a “Breathwork Summit” that I’m not entirely clear on. Another web series on astro-herbalism. If I can do it from bed, and lets me experience some semblance of human contact without the threat of someone coughing directly into my mouth, I’m on it like a hen on an egg.

On the other hand, I’m beginning to think that cramming so much into my head is detrimental to all of the stuff that’s already there. Knowing how to tie my shoes, for example.

Intracranial hypertension is pretty hinge on your memory-meat. That much I know. I did not, however, anticipate losing a skill that I’ve had since I was four. Like, I made a pair of ribbon ties for the curtains in my living room — just two bits of recycled sari silk in a very pretty turquoise blue. Nothing fancy, but they get the job done and it’s a lovely color. The bows kept coming untied.

I couldn’t figure out why. Baffled, I tried again and again. Finally, I sat on the floor with one of my shoes, and tried tying it.

Nothing. I tried again. Nothing. Loop, swoop, pull, right? But there was some step that I was missing. Some piece of knowledge that was just gone.

And that’s the story of how my partner walked into the living room to find me in tears and trying to learn how to tie my shoes.

(As it turns out, it was the bit at the beginning, where you make an X with the laces and pull. Completely gone. Unfortunately, tying much of anything doesn’t go terrible well without that part.)

I’m either going to come out of social isolation with all of the knowledge on the internet, or completely unable to navigate life. Not sure which yet.

I hope everyone else’s isolation is going as well as can be expected. If you’re looking for ways to help, here’s a place you can donate to to get needed supplies to the Hopi and Diné people. Your local food bank will also need donations (preferably of money, but food is important too). Meals on Wheels could also use some help keeping seniors in need fed and checked on. In-home workers are also being hit hard by COVID-19, and there’s a care fund set up to help them, too.

More people than this are being hurt by the pandemic, and I’m sure I’ve missed some ways to help ease the burden on them. If you know of any, please feel free to include them in the comments.

divination, life

Le Cavalier d’Épée

I’ve got isolation zoomies.

To be honest, I can’t complain — there are people who have it a lot worse than I do. People who can’t work from home, people who can’t work from home and need to find childcare because schools are closed, people who are actually sick. I still feel it like an itchy shirt. There’s a world of difference between choosing not to go out, and not being able to for fear of getting sick or putting others in jeopardy.

If there’s a positive side to this, it’s given me time to write here, finish some paid writing, paint, pursue a few new ideas, and work on learning the Tarot of Marseilles and Ogham divination.

On the flip side, it’s tempting to do a lot of divination. As anyone who habitually reads tarot, runes, or other oracles can tell you, doing tarot spread after tarot spread is an easy way to trip yourself up.

Though I was very tempted to pull out all of the stops and do a full, complete-deck spread, I figured it was better to stick to just one card for this week. (After doing a success reading, and a career reading, and a creativity reading, and a love reading, and experimenting with a Lenormand spread, and…)

Using The Tarot de Maria Celia,  I drew the Cavalier d’Épée — the Knight of Swords.

Interestingly, the last time I drew him, it was a time that was fairly similar to this. Though the health challenges causing my isolation aren’t my own this time around, I can feel the same sense of waiting and agitation. In The Crow Tarot, the Knight of Swords points to an energetic start to a new project. In the Marseilles Tarot, the sentiment is similar — he is the feeling of obsession we get when we have a new idea, when we’re so fixated on the fresh and exciting that it seems like nothing can go wrong.

On the positive side, his energy, determination, and enthusiasm make it easy to succeed. On the negative side, they also make it very easy to ignore the challenges in the way of that success. It may even be tempting to ignore the protestations of other people who know better, and ignore the needs of others in the attempt to chase that success.

Sometimes, when I get wrapped up in a project, I do forget things. I might not eat, might not drink enough, might even forget to sleep until the middle of the night. These things aren’t just harmful for me, though — they’re also a sign of neglecting my relationship. If I’m too busy to eat, I’m too busy for meals with my partner. If I’m up too late, he’s up too late because he has trouble sleeping without me.

The Cavalier d’Épée is a warning — ride the tide of optimism, but don’t let it flatten everything else.

 

Three white candles in the middle of dried vines.
life, Neodruidry, Witchcraft

The Many Implications of a Jacket

Guess who’s got two thumbs and a jacket she got a pretty rad deal on!

(Me. I did.)

Everything we touch, we leave a little of ourselves in. Maybe you handled a book when you were having a terrible day, or picked up a crystal when you were feeling particularly elated. By that same token, everything we bring into our spaces comes with its own energetic history. This is why it’s always a good idea to cleanse your stones, bowls, wands, or any other tools before you use them — you don’t necessarily want someone else’s bad day screwing with your whole jam, you know?

So you rinse them in clean water, if you can. Maybe you hold them in incense smoke, or the fumes of cleansing herbs. Maybe you place them in sunlight.

All of this is to say that this jacket is very pre-owned, and I don’t know any of its history. Was it owned by a nice little old lady who only wore it on Sundays? Did it narrowly escape being labeled “Exhibit B” in a trial? It’s a mystery!

Even though a jacket isn’t a magical tool, I still don’t really want any bad vibes hanging around. I mean, if nothing else, that is other people’s energy and should be returned to them. This can go beyond sending energy back to its previous owner, too — not only was this jacket previously owned by someone, it was sewn, cut, dyed, and tanned by someone, the cow was raised by someone, and the cow gave its life for it. (I prefer not to mess with plastic leather substitutes for a variety of reasons. Unfortunately, plant-based alternatives like hemp were not going to meet my needs here.)

A lot of living things sacrificed their time, energy, and even lives to keep me warm and dry. That deserves appreciation.

When I cleanse secondhand objects, it’s important to me to not only remove the residual energy from the object itself, but to return it to its source and express thanks and understanding of how it got there in the first place. The choice to purchase or wear anything shouldn’t be made lightly, and it should be done with a full view of what it took to get it into a shop, and what’s going to become of it once its working life is through.

Even the choice to send gratitude and positive energy to whoever previously owned, made, or died for a thing isn’t without controversy. Let’s be real — most of the people involved in this jacket’s creation are probably still alive. There’s something to be said for never performing magic for someone without their consent (though this is often considered a limit to love spells and things of that nature). If the previous owner is a devout Christian, how would they feel about a Pagan doing a working for them?
Granted, my experience with this is limited to watching a family member (and, to be fair, Pat Robertson devotee) set AzureGreen catalogs on fire in our kitchen sink while ranting about Satan, but I am inclined to think the answer is: not super great.

On the other hand, nobody says that this hypothetical person has to accept any intentions they don’t want. I ain’t over here trying to force anyone to have a good day. Ultimately, it’s enough that their vibes make it back to them, where they belong.

So, I light my herbs. I sprinkle my salt. And I send the energy back with the intention that it finds its targets happy and well.

life

Planning, not panicking.

As I write this, my city and the surrounding area are up to 12 confirmed cases of COVID-19. As someone with health anxiety, it’s hard not to start panicking — reading about it online definitely doesn’t help, neither does watching the U.S. move from containing the virus, to just mitigating the damage it’s causing. Hospitals aren’t prepared. Under the internet’s various slimy rocks, concerns about the virus get dismissed as “propaganda.” People claim that as long as you eat “clean,” exercise, and pray, you won’t get sick.

Unfortunately, viruses don’t read online forum posts.

Getting sick isn’t a moral judgment. It’s not always something that happens because you did something wrong, or didn’t do something else well enough. While the immunocompromised and the elderly are the most at risk, young, otherwise healthy people still get hospitalized with the disease.

So, now what?

Like I said, I have health anxiety. I also don’t know how well a brand-new virus would play with idiopathic intracranial hypertension. (My guess: not super well.) Basic supplies like alcohol-based hand sanitizer and disinfecting wipes can’t be had for love nor money. Even getting distilled water for my nepenthes was a challenge.

I’ve inventoried my herbs. I have my healing spells and prayers to Airmid. What’s next?

herbal-tea-1410565_640

Step one, handle the anxiety.

The first thing I did was download this health anxiety workbook. That part’s probably self-explanatory, though. It’s completely free, and covers everything from what health anxiety is, how it influences behavior, how it sustains itself, and strategies to deal with it.

Step two, make a whole lot of porridge.

We stocked up on lentils and rice. I eat a lot of them as it is, so getting a few extra bags wasn’t a stretch. Whenever something comes up that disrupts our lives, I always make a bunch of kitchari — an inexpensive, filling source of carbohydrates and complete protein that’s ideally suited for when you’re not feeling well. I’m planning to measure it into one-cup cubes and stock my freezer. It freezes very well, and reheats in about a minute or two in the microwave. If we get placed under quarantine, it’ll be a fast, easy, comforting source of nutrition.

Two wooden spoons and a small bowl full of dry lentils.
If you are what you eat, I am at least seventy percent lentil.

Step three, buy make hand sanitizer.

Since my partner’s job often places him in groups where constant hand-washing isn’t feasible, and alcohol-based sanitizer has pretty much vanished, I’m going to try to make some. I don’t really recommend doing this if you can avoid it — too little alcohol, and it won’t work. Too much, and it’ll dry your hands out, chapping the skin and increasing the risk of infection. If you have to make your own hand sanitizer, I’d recommend following the World Health Organization’s formulations.

Step four, ditto, but disinfectant.

Same for making disinfectant. Essential oils are great for all kinds of things, but the phenol content is extremely toxic to cats, and essential oil-based cleaners are probably not actually that effective at sanitizing when properly diluted. Fortunately, the Centers for Disease Control has some good data on using alcohol and hydrogen peroxide as disinfectants. (Isopropanol seems to be in short supply, and I’ve only got about half a bottle left. Grain alcohol can be up to 95% ethanol, however, and hopefully hasn’t been raided yet.)

Other than that, we haven’t stocked up on much. We have some extra toilet paper, paper towels, and soap, a few more pantry staples than usual, and an extra family-sized bottle of ibuprofen. I feel okay about this, though — like we’re prepared, without hoarding to the point of putting more vulnerable people in jeopardy.

I’m hoping for the best.