Week 4: roots and voices

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.

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