I’ve been saying to myself for a few weeks I need to pull out the Next World Tarot for this blog, it makes total sense given the content. Well, sometimes something can almost be too right. I did use it this week, or anyway began to, and found that it’s so specifically speaking to this moment that I don’t even know where to begin in translating into an actionable thing for the week. Which doesn’t surprise me, because I have really oblique way of reading, I’m realizing; it’s almost as though I need the cards to do just enough… but too much, actually doing too much of the work for me, confuses me. 

Anyway, I moved on to the deck I though I’d use, the new Ukiyo Tarot by—Pietro Turino, released by Lo Scarabeo. It’s handsome, if somewhat confusing deck. 

In this case, I pulled three card and allowed each what I’m calling a “dangling modifier.” Only because of the way I laid them out; not in the grammatical sense. But I feel like the dangling cards only work with the card they dangle from, not with each other and not with other primaries. 

That gives us: Knight of Cups (Dangling: 4 of cups); 8 of Pentacles (dangling: 6 of Wands); 3 of cups (dangling: Ace of Wands). 

This 8 of Pents is giving Disney, which reminds me that it’s a pain in the ass but necessarily reality to work at the middle-finger giving that we must do to corporations who don’t reflect our values. The mass exodus of the public from Disney-owned properties after their not-remotely-shocking capitulation to the current asshole in the white house demonstrated how quickly collective action works, especially when a big company is going to lose its bottom line. In fact, this may be the only way to protest effectively sometimes—especially given the current asshole in the white house. The 6 of Wands dangling from the 8 of penties, a) reminds us that it worked; b, that feeling great that it worked is ok (yay victory) but the good feelings don’t justify putting anything down yet. Six indicates progress but not a final victory, the implication that we’re heading to the Ten of Wands reminds us that the journey will not leave us camera-ready. But the work (eight) should be motivated by the little win (and it is a minor, minor “win” if you can call it that at all), not stopped due to it. 

The 8/pents finds it self flanked by two cups cards: a knight, riding out of the reading, and the three, dancing within it.  The Knight of Cups is modified by the 4 of cups, who has given up on the effort and suddenly finds themselves feel despondent. We cannot stop doing things that work and expect to keep feeling good about ourselves or the way things progress. We, like, actually have to do the labor. In this combo, the Knight and 4 of Cups are giving white people tears, the way that we throw in the towel the second gets hard while people of global majority, queer people, etc., are standing there looking at us like, “That’s it? That’s all you have?” And rather than saying, “Oh, no, didn’t we just have a victory? Is isn’t over?” We just get mopey and say “I can’t do anything right!” 4s are so conservative. So are white people, much more than we realize. 

The Three of Cups with the Ace of Wands reminds us that their can be some celebration, but we don’t put down the club. In fact, we have to keep celebrating the tiny wins, especially when there aren’t any others. We have to keep lighting matches and flicking them to see what we can burn down. And we need to do that in dance with the community of people who make us feel safe and connected, lived, and spiritually expansive. Spiritual expansiveness is important, too. It is the match that may ignite the fire!

There we have it, friends. 
Onward. ​

Six of Jazz/Wands (4), King of Axes/Swords (2) Nine of Roots/Pentacles (1), Six of Blues/Cups (3), The High Priestess

Deck: Rhythm and Soul Tarot by Stacey Williams-Ng

I love that the central card in the spread is “roots.” In this music-themed tarot, focusing primarily on the roots of so-called american music, we’re happily reminded not only of the foundational need for music—but how music has roots.

I happened to be running errands today and listening to music and singing. I can’t tell you how cleansing that was. First, you may know my journey with sound and energy healing (technically both energy healing), so it’s fitting that sound would be medicinal. Second, though, because I’ve always loved singing—until it was taken from me by a shitty teacher. Only in my forties have I started taking it back. 

If you haven’t spent any time listening to your music this week (by which I mean the music that lights you up most), do it. At once. 

Starting here with the Nine of Roots, we’re first encouraged to consider the nature of roots. The obvious association are those of plants, but the more appropriate one here are the ancestors. Not least because the theme of the deck hints heavily at Southern traditions and spirituality, which is of course the source of american music (coming, of course, from the Black communities there). 

In a white supremacist country, such as the one now known as america, the idea of going back to our roots can be scary. We don’t know what we’re going to find there, and if we’re the descendants of enslavers—nothing that is true for many of us, regardless of race—or colonizers, that means we have to face that our ancestors were probably big assholes. Of course, unless we do that we can’t actually heal or free ourselves from it. So, yes, though it can be scary, it is necessary. 

But there are spiritual ancestors, too. In The Modern Fortune Teller’s Field Guide, I write in the first chapter that our divinatory ancestors require our respect and dedication—not just because they earned it, but because we’re going to need their guidance when the tide turns. And at the time I was writing that, the tide was well on its way toward turning. We need to build relationships with our divinatory ancestors and honor the communities from which they came. Those are the roots, the ancestors, I mean in this case. 

And the nine can simply mean “a lot.” So then this card can simply suggest, you need the communion of your spiritual ancestors a lot--and/or, you need the communion of a lot of your spiritual ancestors--and/or--you need a lot of communion with with your spiritual ancestors. I love how moving a two-word phrase throughout a sentence can make so many cool things happen. Not unlike moving cards around in a spread. 

I’m compelled by the image, here; inspired of course by Pamela Colman Smith’s regal Nine of Pentacles, there’s something to be said, too, for taking a moment and admiring how far you’ve come. Even if it’s not as far as you want to go (and who has gotten that far?), pause and note, “Yes, I’ve reached another level.”

Flanked by the King of Axes/Swords and the Six of Blues/Cups, we achieve the combo of air and water—which has spiritual tendencies. The emotion of cups elevated with the airiness of air.

Did you know that right this second, you’re as wise as you’ve ever been? Did you? Because it’s true. Sure, you’ll be wiser someday, but right now you’re as wise as you’ve ever been! That’s what this combo is telling you. There’s a spiritual elevation that happens each time we learn something.

I think about Reiki, which is a very air/water thing to me, and how we have “attunements” that we receive that kind of re-awaken the Reiki within us. In Japan, attunements weren’t really a “thing,” but Reiju were. And these are frequently energetic blessing/connections between a teacher and student (it is often done in groups) that reconnect and theoretically strengthen one’s connection to Reiki. When we learn something new, when we up our wisdom, we’re getting sort of a reiju from our spiritual ancestors. Their message has gotten through and so we get a gold star—but more than just a symbol of achievement, it connects us closer to them. 

Odd, isn’t it? The more we listen, the better we hear. 

We have another six, the Six of Jazz/Wands, paired with the High Priestess. Odd to see two sixes, especially given that sixes are typically considered “positive” (ugh) and celebratory. Ain’t no one feeling that way, now. But we might if we actually made the connections this reading is suggesting, or deepened the ones we have. The energy is awfully well-primed at the moment, and the Six of Jazz/Wands shows the glyph of Jupiter on their dress—And Jupiter has kind of an expansive nature. What better time to expand our relationship with our spiritual ancestors. 

Because there are two sixes in the reading, the imply a pairing—and in a way the whole reading is summing them up. But because of this, it also implies another asymmetric pairing: the King of Axes/Swords and the Priestess: I happened to glance at the guidebook for this (new to me) deck and noted that this Priestess is summoning one of the lwa of New Orleans Voodoo. The King of Axes/Swords suggests that’s who this HP is summoning: our wise ones. 

I think this is in fact a message from the elders and wise ones: listen to our music. There’s a lot to learn there. Both literally and figuratively. 

Until next week,
TB.

​

Hello, weary ones. Welcome to this week’s survival tip. As ever, the question for the week is, “How do we survive this week during the fall of an empire?” 

We’ve drawn:
The Empress (4), Queen of Pentacles (2), The Devil (1), Four of Swords (3), The Magician (5)
This is the Apparition Tarot by Spirit Speak

The Devil showed up last week, not as the central card but one over. This week, he sets the tone for us and does so hand-in-hand with the Queen of Pentacles and the Four of Swords. 

I chose this deck today because I showed it to a friend yesterday. I’d forgotten if, during our many tarot show-and-tells, I’d ever shown this one, and apparently I hadn’t. When my friend saw this Queen of Pents, she got very excited—because it shows the Venus of Willendorf, and ancient votive stature of The Goddess(TM). She is thought to be a fertility goddess, and there’s no reason to doubt it—fertility goddesses throughout the world have celebrated, exaggerated, the breasts and genitals of the mother. Think of Ireland’s Sheela Na Gig. 

A quick digression. Skip to the paragraph beginning “The reading:” if you don’t care about this stuff.
I get rather testy about gendered shit, lately. Especially when a tarot deck relies heavily on one or the other. And there are decks that I’ve found and really liked but didn’t want to use because they were so gendered. But while talking to this same friend yesterday, I finally managed to articulate what I’d been trying to say when talking about them. Frequently I’ve said that I feel “left out” of them, because there’s no boys. And I knew that wasn’t quite what I meant, because I don’t actually give a fuck whether a deck is all women or not, and I’ve never really felt very comfortable around other boys, anyway. What I was finally able to articulate was that it’s not the gender, but the vibe. A deck can be all “women” (I put that in quotes not to make it seem ironic, but to highlight the vastness of that word), but it doesn’t have to be all femme. And that’s what I’ve been trying to get out, but I didn’t know how to say it. Because as a queer person, a cis one, I’m particularly aware at this point in my life of the union of the the so-called masc and femme within me. I don’t feel as though I’m non-binary, though had that conversation been introduced to me much younger I might have. I’ve spent a long time growing into myself, now. But sometimes I’m super femme, and sometimes I’m not. And I like the mix. I like being a bit of a changeling, in that way. And I like it when decks can reflect the full spectrum of being a person, rather than saying, “Ah, to be a safe place, this must center only femme-presenting people.” A deck can be woman, womyn, wombon, etc.-centric, while still presenting the masculine as presented by cis women, trans women, trans men, and non-binary people. 

When the now-infamous Divine Masculine Tarot was preparing to fund, a lot of queer male (I believe mostly cis, if not entirely, but I’m not sure) were asked to showcase cards—and many of us eagerly did. In part because of the celebration of the masc/femme dance. There were people with breasts and a penis, for example, beautifully rendered. The Tarot Karens complained and got heir way, and those parts were painted over—disappointing those of us who backed the deck having seen its earlier—and true—iteration, only to find out that the queerness, the dance, had been erased by assholes. 

Because, dear ones, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart: If you cannot look at a naked body in a piece of art and not find it sexualized somehow, you are the prurient one, you are the disgusting one, you are the pervert. 

Anyway. I digress, as ever. 

The reading: The Devil flanked by the Venus of Willendorf and the Four of Swords reminds me of the toughness present in all these cards. I frequently get down on fours because they’re conservative, but they’re also tenacious. Sometimes clinging to shit is bad, but sometimes—especially when it’s our energy, clarity, sanity, and life—it’s not so bad. The Four of Swords actually suggests a stable mind. Fours=stable, swords=mind. Or communication. And one impacts the other, anyway. What we think shapes what we say and when; what we say impacts how we think. Both impact our body/mind. 

To sustain our energy in this time, we need that rocky earthiness of the Venus. Look how solid she is. She has carbed up for the fucking fight. 

It has been said that diet culture exists in part to keep us thin and weak. If we are not healthy and fed, we cannot fight. The Devil, lord of indulgence, actually shows us two femme bodies, one looking somewhat thin (in the center of the skeletal oval), the other looking supple and ready to feed. 

Feed, dear ones. Sustain yourself. 
Eat. 
I know that’s a dangerous thing to say.
For one, people are literally being starved in a genocides on this planet. 
Also, I know many of us struggle with food.
I do. 
I’m not going pretend I don’t. 
There are times when I’m eating at work and I feel ashamed when someone walks by me because I feel like the fat kid scarfing down my slop. 
No one in my life every called me that, this isn’t one of those times where abusers made me feel this way. I just picked it up because—actually, now that I’m saying that, in fact . . . , other people have said to me. 
Other cis gendered white gay men. 

So, I didn’t pick that up from nowhere. Clarity unlocked, I guess. 🤣

This isn’t feasting; this isn’t gluttony; those isn’t over-indulgence. It is sustaining. It’s nourishment. If you want to help, if you want to survive, nourish. 

The fact that I can’t even say “nourish yourself” without pointing out that, on this planet, in this life, eating food to stay alive is a fucking privilege, when, in fact, it should be a human fucking right, is in-fucking-sane. (And guess who thinks food isn’t a human right: The so-called “United States” and so-called “Isreal.” And these two entities are two of the major reasons why I have to qualify this reading this way. Because even though famine is a violation of “international law” [which is also a fucking joke; if there were “international law” the “US” and “Isreal” wouldn’t exist], but in the meantime, those of us who can need to sustain ourselves. Because these evils will not end on their own. Lord knows it may only be a matter of time before we’re being starved, too. 

Anyway, when I say “eat,” I don’t necessarily mean this has to be food. It could be wisdom, it could be inspiration: recall the earthy presence of the Queen of Pentacles. The wheat surrounding her isn’t yet bread; it’s the potential for bread. So “eat” what sustains you, but whatever it is should be earthy and deep and rich and filling like this Venus. 

Whatever it is should put the mind at least, too. 

That doesn’t mean being an ostrich, but it does mean that toxicity encountered during the week should be countenanced by healthy stuff. Sustaining stuff. Affirming, earthy stuff. 

There’s also the reality that how we talk this week should be earthy, too; it should be Queen of Pentacles-y. It can, and should, be real; queens to fuck around in my world. But it is also rooted in life. And in this case I take life to be mean, well, the value of it. We see so much fucking anti-life right now, primarily from those who claim to be so-called “pro-life” (which is the biggest fucking crock of shit and they know it—that’s why they go deeper on it, because they know if they ever give voice to their truth, they’ll know they’re going straight to the hell they think they’re consigning us to.)

The Empress and the Magician almost seem to me like an entirely different reading.

The Empress really enlarges the queen. There’s a simpatico, here; there’s an intensity of earth and Venus, because Venus is the astrological sign associated with The Empress. 

Which, and I know this sounds privileged, means surrounding yourself with love and beauty. 

But I don’t mean “spiritual white person” love and beauty; I mean actual love and beauty. Because love and beauty mean telling tough truths, standing up for those being denied love and beauty. Loving so intensely that we say “fuck the norms, fuck the rules.” That we discover what beauty means beyond vanity. 

The Magician, mercurial and clever, presents to us the sense of acting the part when we don’t feel it. We will we faced with moments this week when the salt-of-the-earth response is necessary, but we will not feel it. It will be necessary for our own well-being and that of the person we might otherwise chop into bits, but it will not be genuine and it will not be felt. 

Do it, anyway. 

Perform it until it feels true. 

The more sustenance you take on, the more you feed yourself healthy things—food and otherwise—the better. 

Despair will not sustain us. Despair, like diet culture, will leave us weak, emaciated, and fully useless. 

When we see that they’re trying to make us too thin, too weak, too despairing, let the rage of the Goddesses—of all genders—teach you to eat. ​

Until next week.