 Cards from the Mary-el Tarot This week I thought I might use Lubanko Tarot, as I went to see Emily speak about her deck last week. (The new edition is quite nice and while I don’t particularly need borderless editions, the lack of borders makes the deck a little smaller and the thinner stock easier to shuffle. I think complainers will whine about the thin stock, but I think it shuffles like buttah . . . especially have the deck I did use this week). E. talked about the influence of the Mary-el Tarot by Marie White. I’ve had the deck for ages, although far less longer than it’s been available. I’d ordered the new print, which was on less angry-making card stock (despite the bowdlerization of a few of the cards)—but I wound up with the OG. It is a beast to shuffle and my poor hands aren’t up to it, but I made it happen. Also, my Wheel of Fortune was somewhat damaged when a shelf fell onto the deck, and that’s the card I got to, today, so I wonder if it’ll always cut at or near it, now.
Anyway, the primary reason for avoiding this deck was the stock, Schiffer has never given a flying fuck about whether or not their decks are usable, and, in fact, any aren’t—even post-glossiness. But it wasn’t just the stock—I never really “got” the deck or the evangelical response it earned from a lot of folks, and anything that smacks of zeitgeistiness makes me cranky. I think the art is stunning and I love when an artist makes tarot their own. But I didn’t feel connected to it. I do, however, feel incredibly connected to the Lubanko deck and now that I see the influence, I felt compelled to try the Mary-el again. So I carbed up this morning preparing to shuffle. (Kidding.) Today, the cards presented are: 3 of disks (4), Emperor (2), Wheel (1), Queen of swords (3), 8 of wands (5) I also augmented the Wheel, thus: 8 of swords — itself augmented by the 9 of swords and 7 of swords. It’s a lotta stuff, so let’s get to it! The Wheel “sits” on the 8 of Swords and it’s look, “look, bitch: cycles. This mindfuck hellscape you keep yourself trapped in could benefit from some evaluation. Think you’re the first people to suffer? Look around.” Swords have everything to do with perception, and this suggests that we need to remember we’re actually not imprisoned right now (unless we are), which means that there’s still things that can be done—and, yeah, it’s a lot of shit to consider, which is why the energy should be granted to the thoughts that are productive rather than burdensome. The array augmenting the Wheel from below is 9, 8, 7 in that order. Literally think smaller. It’s the overwhelm that gets you, and it’s entirely the point. They keep you running in so many directions, worried about so many things, that instead of worrying about the things that matter, you’re worrying about everything or nothing and you shut off and check out. Not good. (A sidebar: I remember trying to work with this deck at once point and thinking that I found the art distracting. I recalled hearing Marseille-style readers say that about Waite-Smith decks when I was starting out and I found it appalling. But I also found Marseille-style decks appalling, too. Or, well, ugly as fuck, anyway. I don’t know how long ago it was that I attempted to work with, but I actually still feel that way about it. It’s not an insult to the deck. It’s that it’s just such a rich, dense story on each card and I just don’t really sink into images the way that others do. It’s probably one reason why I use so many more cards than a lot of other readers, too. I actually like to work quickly before my brain starts overthinking things. And that’s definitely what I’m doing here, but I can’t express how much I want to pick up and study each of the cards. The deck is actually even more beautiful than I recall—and I never thought it was ugly. Just overwhelming. Which is one reason I was irked by the replacement of some of the cards in the new edition which has, I’m told, easier-to-handle cards. I called it bowdlerizing above. Bowdler was a publisher to created the Family Shakespeare in the early 1800s, in which he removed anything “unsanitary.” — might shock to you to know that he earned the [dubious] credit, it was actually his sister Harriet who did the work. Either way, “bowdlerizing” quickly became a term for “sanitizing” [defanging] work. I was pleased to hear that the Lubanko tarot was not bowdlerized for the mass market edition, though Lubanko—on her own—created two alts for the lovers. I wasn’t shocked to hear that another publisher made an offer and then told her to change a bunch of shit.) The Wheel itself is flanked by (on the left) the 3 of disks and the Emperor and (on the right) by the Queen of Swords and the 8 of wands. Let’s do the right side first, because we see more swords and another 8. Queens are the embodiment of their suit and the 8 of wands is the fullness of directed labor. Smart bitches put their back into the shit that will yield change. On the left, the 3 of disks and the Emperor tell us the power of the empire is growing. Uh oh! Except, what? The fucking Wheel there in the middle—the only card we’ve only glanced at. Cycles. I’m writing this on Saturday, though it’s typically a Sunday thing. But I’m reading at a Halloween event tomorrow and I was reading at one last night, and I cannot tell you—I think I told every person sitting across from me that they had permission to be optimistic. Do I believe that? No. Did I confess to my clients that I’m a cynic who agrees there’s not much to be optimistic about? Yes, and they agreed with me—but I couldn’t avoid what the cards were telling me, and I’m not a reader to only sees sunshine. In fact, I had at least one “Yeah, he might come back but he’s gonna do it again” reading, so I wasn’t just giving everyone good news. But even that client got the go-ahead of optimism as the reading went on. And I think it’s because each of the readings also could be encapsulated in one way or another by the swords cards augmenting the Wheel and by the two cards to the Wheels’ right. But your energy into the shit that will impact you in the best way, and things will work out better. And I’m not one of those leftists interested in the status quo anymore. I was, but that’s over. I do not see any future in the world that so-called “liberal democracy” (pedos running everything and the wealthiest people throwing carrots at us to make us think we’re happy) has crafted, so I’m not saying we’re going to see a return to what we had. Not by a long shot. In fact I got Death in at least three readings last night, and if I’m right it showed up a couple more than that. Death doesn’t mean dying, but it does mean there’s no going back to before. So when I say “work out better” I don’t mean “go back to a world where white lefties are comfortably able to avoid participating in the liberation of the people they claim to be allies to.” I just don’t know what it is yet. And though I’ve considered pulling cards to tell me, I don’t know if I’d believe anything it said. Once thing I’ll say, though . . . being forced by the readings to say that to folx last night actually started to make me feel better. And I was not feeling particularly good when I arrived at the event. While I love doing those, the set up kill me. Lugging a card table and chairs, along with all the crap I put on my table to make it look inviting, well . . . it annoys me. And the event space screwed up the assignments, so I wound up inadvertently getting myself shoved in the least visible spot in the reading area and spending the first forty-five minutes watching clients flock to everyone but me. Actually, if you want to stick around for a little more confessing . . . when I finally did get a client, she came up to me and kind of rudely showed me the little token that gets attached to our bios that clients take so everyone in line knows that reader is working at the moment—and she sorta tossed it at the table and said, “what do you do?” She kinda looked at my little menu that I made to help people who don’t know what to get a reading about and said, “Oh you do TAROT,” with disappointment. And I thought, “Oh, Jesus. This is it, I’m done with these events—I can’t deal with this.” I tried to put on my happy face and she said, “you just read cards, right? You don’t like . . . ?” The “just read cards” made me feel awesome and then the implication that my inability to do the “like . . . ?” (which I assume meant, like, psychic channeling or clairsentience?), and I kind of firmly said, “N0, I don’t channel.” And I expected her to walk away and instead she sat down. “Here we go,” I thought. She didn’t have a question and didn’t look particularly interested in even giving me a chance, so I was kinda surprised she was . . . ya know . . . giving me a chance. I started reading and a few minutes in she stopped me to get her phone out and record it. She let is slip a few minutes later that I was actually — I wouldn’t say “doing a good job”? But maybe like . . . serving face? I guess? I don’t know. It was the first time I relaxed the entire time I’d been there, including lugging all my shit and getting drenched in sweat setting it up. I’m, I think, going to make a video about this, but I thought it was interesting that I’d somehow won her over. The rest of the night flew by and was a blast, which is good because it stopped me shopping, which I’m tempted to do on nights when the market is slow. Anyway, just a fun anecdote for you—though I have notes for readers as a result. Evil laugh. Until next week.
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 Cards from Robert M. Place’s classic Vampire Tarot This week, I remembered to bring out one of the great tarots of all time, Robert M. Place’s Vampire Tarot, published (and held hostage by) St. Martin’s Press. The reason he can’t reprint this deck, as he has his others, is that the copyright is owned by SMP and they ain’t doing anything with it. Capitalism at is most moronic. The deck goes for hundreds on the collector’s market and maybe there’s a collector’s lobby preventing a reissue. I don’t know. But it’s typical bullshit and I hate it.
Anyway, I love the deck. Place frequently uses a combination of pip and imagery to create his minors, and I really enjoy that. This week, we get: Eight of Knives (influenced by Queen of Stakes/Wands); The Hierophant (Van Helsing) (Influenced by the Knight of Knives); and the Ten of Stakes (influenced by The Hermit.) I was talking yesterday about the solitary labor of the eights. We’re alone, and we’re working alone, in this case trapped in our mind-jails, ruing all that there is to rue. The Queen of Stakes makes us believe that if we think just right, we can slay monsters. (This Queen of Stakes is Charlotte Stoker, who was married to Bram Stoker, author of Dracula. She might have been a bit in this boat. Stoker, who was closeted and queer, may well have seemed a mystery she could solve if the only thought or said the right thing.) “I know I can slay this monster! I know I can! I’m the fucking Queen of Wands, after all!” There’s a feedback loop because our own sense of importance (and impotence) and our need to logic this out. Something tells me logic ain’t it, but let’s keep exploring. To the left of the Eight of Knives, we have The Hierophant (Van Helsing) influenced by the Knight of Knives. If you place a queer lens on the story of Dracula, it’s not hard to see it as an allegory. Dracula represents our hungers, our thirsts, our desires; he also presents otherness and foreignness. He’s painted as the villain because he preys on pretty, white, Christian girls, but the book doesn’t limit him to women as the movies usually do. Even Bela’s Dracula feeds on Renfield, one of the few films to depict the count having a same-sex encounter. (The recent BBC adaptation puts Harker in the position of being asked if he had sex with the count, but we have no sense it happened.) The straight-washing of Dracula isn’t shocking. Stoker himself was clearly on Van Helsing’s side, and he was clearly drying to pray the gay way. And after Oscar Wilde, Stoker’s contemporary, wound up in prison for being a homo, Stoker turned virulently anti-queer. In essence, he went from Harker to Van Helsing. Anyway, there’s a huge history of racism and anti-Jewishness in vampire myths. The Vampire mythology cannot be divorced from stereotypes of Jews and Romani as predators. I think Robert Egger’s recent Nosferatu did an excellent job playing that up, at least in the parts where rats infest the German town the main characters live in. I think the imagery of rats and plague and Dracula all speak to the white euro horror of “the other.” I do take issue with this portrayal of the Romani, who aren’t really characters—and that’s typical of Eggers’ work. It skirts queer liberation, it even skirts the dismantelling of stereotype, but often he falls into whiteness tropes. But if you look at it through a queer, less colonial lens: Dracula isn’t a villain; he’s simply higher on the food chain than we are. Anyway, to misquote the title of a recent Broadway play, Van Helsing is the Villain. (The play is John Proctor). Van Helsing, at least in the book (he’s not at all this way in Eggers’ Nosferatu), uses a kind of pragmatic blend of Catholicism and Calvinism to end his foe, and, like the Hierophant, he uses faith as a weapon. (A plot point in Dracula I always make fun of: somehow all these Church of England Anglican anti-Catholics suddenly discover the solution to their problems is Catholic imagery . . . it’s cute.) The Knight of Knives (Colerage, not useful here) reminds us of the bloodless intellectual approach to achieving our ends—which does underscore Van Helsing’s kind of bloodless lack of sex and intrigue. Dracula, like the Devil in tarot, invites us to be our wildest animal, our most innate, our “darkest,” which I take to mean our most anti-colonial, non-“christian” selves—our witchy, political, messy, selves. Van Helsing loathes that, and the Knight of Swords takes up the cause without thinking because he’s a holy roller and a truster of the status quo. What got us here won’t save us. The Ten of Stakes influenced by The Hermit has lots to say. First, yes, you might need a rest this week. You might need to hole up for a day or so and spend it in your coffin, hiding from the vagaries of existence. The Hermit for sure amps up that vibe—but this hermit, who is one of Dracula’s disguises, seems to invite us into his world, not to avoid it. There’s a scene in a Hammer film, the first Dracula they made without Christopher Lee, where the sort of Renfield character, a madwoman midwife, kneels on the grave of a recently-bitten victim and essentially midwives her out of the grave—out into the the world. She plays delivery room doctor to a newly-minted vampire. That’s what this Hermit remind me of. “Rest,” he says, “but not for long. I need you to come with me.” There’s a scene in one of the lesser Dracula films, I think it’s the Frank Langella, which is one of my least favorite (Langella doesn’t want to be playing Dracula; he wants to be playing Heathcliffe in Wuthering Heights), in which he tells Mina, “I need your blood. I need your blood.” And in a relatively sexless interpretation, it actually jolts up the fire for a hot second, because that kind of desperation is really sexy (to a certain kind of weirdo—hi, I’m the problem). I’m drawing another card for context and—it’s The Lovers! Which depicts Dracula in the act of Draculizing (and damn, RMP, this one is JACKED). Dear ones. The solution lies not in Van Helsing’s conservative uptight attempt to erase the “other.” The solution lies not in attempting to overcome the overwhelming urges for a deeper kind of liberation. The solution, in fact, is taking a quick nap and then going deeper into the darkness. That is, after all, what is common this time of year anyway. The Dark Daddy, the Witch God/ess, the Devil, Dracula, Lilith, Hecate, Baba Yaga . . . it is the counsel of the dark ones, the ones who understands the margins better than anyone, that we must trust and fall into the embrace of. It is there where we taste our deeper, inner selves; and it is there that we find ways of transcending the mortal limitations of christo-capitalist Van Helsing-esque bullshit and discover that we, too, have access to higher powers that the Van Helings of the world would like us to forget, forever, that we have. Fangs out, little ones. Into the dark!  Cards from Infinite Door by Pamela Love and Krys Maniecki Morning, class. Before we get to this week’s message, two quick announcements.
First, The Modern Fortune Teller’s Field Guide is finally out! If you haven’t yet, you can get your copy from Crossed Crow directly or order it from anywhere—including your local witchy shop, queer- or Black-owned business, etc. I’m doing a contest. If you post a review somewhere publicly and tag me or screencap and send it to me, you can win signed copies of all my books plus an hour-long session: tarot, tarot+reiki, coaching, general tarot bull session. The fact is, I’m so shy, that the hour with me is probably the most valuable! Second, I have a new workshop/experience coming up! The Modern Fortune Teller’s Conclave. Part workshop, part divinatory experience, there are two sessions you can choose form. 10/31 at 4pm eastern, and 11/2 at 2 pm, eastern. Click the title for more info and to sign up. That said, on to this week’s survival tip. I recorded an episode of the Witch Wednesdays podcast recently and one of the things I mentioned is that, though I don’t read for myself much, I do from time to time, considering all the things, do a reading on the question, “How panicked should we be right now?” They’re actually usually pretty calming, so I figured I’d use this week to do one of those and post it, here. This week’s deck is the fascinating Infinite Door by Pamela Love, with art by Krys Maniecki. I did a double arc of three and in row one, we have Seven of Swords, The Sun, Ace of Cups. And in the second row, we find Ace of Pentacles, Queen of Pentacles, and the Eight of Cups. Can I just mention that I love tarot? I so do. Not for any particular reason; I just feel really lucky to have it in my life. Anyhoo. The Sun in the middle is generally a good sign in readings, though it can signal the heat being turned up dramatically. The Ace of Cups doesn’t provide much relief. And the Seven of Swords can amp up the heat, given that it’s a higher number and the card sometimes indicates nefarious doings. The Sun being one of the higher-numbered majors also intensified the heat, and, as we already know, the Ace of Cups isn’t enough to tamp anything down. It’s a squirt gun at the conflagration. But each card is influenced by the one below it, and in this case I’m also intending to read that row together. The Seven of Wands, then, is influenced by the Ace of Pentacles; the Sun by the Queen of Pentacles; and, the Ace of Cups by the Eight of Cups. Let’s start with the last combo. The Ace of Cups partnered with the 8 adds more water to the equation, and while we’re not yet working with a fleet of firefighters yet, we are better-supplied. Eights represents work, effort. There’s always the sense of “moving on” with Waite-Smith inspired decks, but if we’re moving toward anything, it’s the Ace of Cups—which would be a bit of a new sensory experience. That’s promising, as many of us are feeling overly-sensitized at the moment. Of course, we need to be careful not to let ourselves become desensitized. But, a new sensory moment is promising. I’ve actually decided to add a third row, because I don’t feel like I have enough context at the moment to know how to get to our answer. The card that now appears below is the Hanged Man, which isn’t promising, but the energy of this column moves up. The Eight moves into the Ace, so we’re ascending from the Hanged Man, into the eight, and finally to the Ace. Promising. I drew another card to tell me what comes after the Ace and I got The Lovers. I typically interpret that card as lack of choice or partnership, and I think partnership, or union, works better here—especially as this depiction shows hands holding. We will move to a re-union. Bit of a journey, but that’s where we’re moving. A quick note on the “subject” or “querent” of this reading. The question was “How panicked do we need to be?” When I ask the question I expanded the wording: we, being “those who care about each other.” So this “we” is the subject of the reading. The Sun with the Queen of Pentacles is interesting. The queen grounds the Sun dramatically, and that’s not a bad thing. The Queen of Penties is almost acting like the ozone layer, for us. There is a major grounding force at work beneath the blazing light. There’s work happening actually in front of our eyes, but it’s too bright to see it. Something, something is going on. Whenever I do these readings, the suit of Pentacles typically suggests the business community, which I hate; but I think this suggests two things. First, boycotts and the like are working. The business community has only one goal: money. And when we deny the monster money, they panic. That’s good. The card that I pulled for this column’s third was the Six of Swords. Again, the positioning of the card suggests a movement up. We’re coming from the six, into the queen, and then the sun—the sun is coming out, if we keep working. Incidentally, this very watery swords card tamps down the Sun’s intensity, which is also a good thing. I hate to say this, but we have to keep our brains balanced (six), we have to keep working, and the sun will come out. The Seven of Swords is influenced by the Ace of Pentacles and the added third card became the Knight of Wands. More fire. I’m struggling a bit with this combo, because sevens are somewhat vague. They’re so internal, so introspective. And what that suggests to me is a fire in the belly, I mean a lot of energy is being used up on this experience. It makes me think of indigestion or heartburn, two things I’ve felt increasingly troubled by in the last year. The Ace of Pentacles grounds that, but the Knight of Wands brings it back to life. I drew another influencer for this column’s, the Nine of Cups. So, what we’re experiencing really is our systems are being attacked by worry, by “fire.” Reminds me of when I was a kid. Fire drills at school—even the threat of a fire drill—used to terrify me. Truly. If there was a fire drill planned, I would spend the day in terror. I don’t know why. Obviously the fire alarms scared me, but I don’t know, it really was a traumatic experience. Granted, I now know that I have ADHD-related emotional dysregulation, and that was probably it. I think that has a lot to do with it. But I was a generally terrified kid, and didn’t sleep for three years thanks to a particularly alarming Time-Life Mysteries of the Unknown ad from the 80’s. (A wrote an essay about it for Hippocampus a bunch of years ago. You can find it here, if you’re somehow feeling deprived for my writing.) We will come through the fire. The sun will come out. We will have a sensory refresh. But we have to keep the work up. Now, one thing that’s always difficult with tarot is timing. It’s hard to say when this will happen, and one thing that life teaches me daily is that things happen by inches. We rarely experience things suddenly, anymore, and even things that seem sudden have actually been moving in that direction for—well, generations. I mean I don’t for one second believe that we haven’t been on this path all along, and so the inevitability of this cycle shifting make sense. The problem, though, is that when cycles shift and we’re not feeling constantly under threat, we get lazy—particular about the wellbeing of others, who are still being impacted by shitty systems. We have to promise to ourselves that once we’re back in a space where our bodies can restore, our nervous systems reset, we won’t give up the good work of liberation. I think that’s actually the road to enlightenment. So, no, it’s not time to panic, yet. But it’s also not time to retire.  Queen of Pents (left), The World, Ace of Arrows (Center), the Fool (Above), King of Cups (below), Two of Arrows, Two of Wands (Right) from Tarot of the Woodland Wardens. Here’s a deck that I find cute-but-not-cloying. I’m not among those who find animals wearing human clothing or engaging with human things weird or silly. I find it charming, and that’s probably because I’ve always been a lover of the idea of fairy tale. It makes total sense to me to see animals behaving like humans and humans behaving like animals, because my sensibility was so strongly influenced by Lewis Caroll and Narnia (alas). Of course, the seductive thing about fairy tale is that they’re generally morality bullshit wrapped up in magic. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, one of my all-time favorites as a child, chief among them. Fairy tale seduces because we want magic. We just don’t need the christo-colonial dogma they bring with them.
This deck seduces with a charm and refinement that makes these cuties (how much do I identify as the chubby little mole in the Two of Arrows?) seem dignified. And I’m not joking. It’s Tarot of the Woodland Warden. Not dignified is the absolute mess of a cardstock choice. I already have done this number several times, but the thickness of cardstock creates accessibility issues. You can see my “open letter” on Instagram, and I’m sure the publishers I tagged, including this deck’s publisher, will do nothing about it—but, well, at some point this squeaky wheel needs to get some grease, amiright? Other than the stock, there’s nothin’ I don’t like about this eminently readable and not-too-suite curios. Alas, my hands hurt from shuffling. The Ace of Arrows is flanked by The World and the Two of Arrows. Here, arrows=swords. I pulled “influence” cards for each of the three, mostly just because I find the deck so delightful to look at that I simply wanted to see more cards—and I nearly drew more, which shows you how delighted I am by the artwork, and this how mournful I am of the stock. “Everything” — that’s a way I typically read the World. And I’ve found in dialogue with my guide that he frequently uses that word when he’s overwhelmed. In this case, it’s usually in a positive way, but for so many of us right now it isn’t. Everything…. is a lot. But it’s worth considering that the wearier, more despairing, least certain of us right now are the ones who have the least amount of experience living under oppression. Queer people, particularly trans people, people of global majority, children of global majority, and the people in nations whose natural resources are torn from the earth so that I can share this and you can read it, these communities have known how mythological “democracy” really is. It’s just that straight, white, and cis folx are discovering that they, too, can have their rights taken away. They’d taken them for granted. A lot of never had that luxury. “Oh a lecture, from a cis white boy who calls himself queer.” Sure. Get defensive. It ain’t gonna help you survive. Because if you keep feeling EVERYTHING as CAUSE FOR DESPAIR or, on the other hand, TOTALLY FINE, you’re going to crack. The Queen of Pentacles, who influenced the World, presents us with the quality of survivalism. Ah, survivalism—a specifically American concept: “I’m fine living totally underground off ancient canned goods while everyone else is incinerated/raptured, and I will definitely not go mad from complete and total absence of sunlight.” You do you, babe, but global problems require collective solution. The “at least I got mine” attitude of stereotypical survivalism is exactly how we wound up here. (I recognize some people tend toward survivalism thanks to trauma. But if that were the only reason, it would not be a billion dollar industry because one thing this country doesn’t give a fuck about is trauma responses.) Hoard your resources! Everything is bad! “Nay, bitch,” sayeth the Ace of Swords, “one bite at a time.” The Ace of Swords is influenced by the Fool and the King of Cups (who I almost called “the king of beavers” in a thing I’m now unlikely to forget any time I see this card now). My friend Liz is taking a long workshop focusing on the big “tome” by Robert M. Place The Tarot, Magic, Alchemy, & Neoplatonism (3rd ed.), and she reminded me of something in the older images of The Fool: the animal scratching at the poor dude is meant to indicate that the guy is a stranger in a strange place. He doesn’t belong there, which is why the animal chases him away. If you look at the way I arranged the cards impulsively, it looks as though the Fool is actually leaping away from the Ace of Arrows and into, literally into the World. The King of Cups, on the other hand, looks away from it all. It is foolish for us to think we can do everything, solve everything, suffer everything, and to do that all at once. It is the emotionally mature thing to recognize that we don’t have to onboard all of that. We just have to start speaking--softly, and then a little bit louder and more passionately. Arrows/swords aren’t just thoughts, they’re words. The suit of swords is the suit of saying. Say the things. You don’t have to from zero to sixty, just form one to two. The energy (Two of Wands, influencing the Two of Swords) will kick in—and because twos are magnetic, you’ll begin finding this truth-telling addictive, and you should, because it is healthy and correct and the more voices raised in singing, the less dangerous it us from the people currently singing out. Using your voice is not just about arrogance or grandstanding. It is the recognition that when vulnerable people stick their heads out to tell the truth, they are far less likely to get their fucking heads chopped off if there’s a hundred other heads. They can’t chop off all the heads. This is a reading about joining the choir, even if you feel like you waited to long. Join it. If you wanna sing out, SING OUT. It’s time. |
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