of excess being;
by the newness;
Suspended between spiritual and earthly existence, the beautiful Fool is the new born soul embarking on a bright adventure.
Spring has sprung! Clocks have shifted to represent the contrived alteration of time to maximize daylight usage! Mercury is out of retrograde as I write this on March 29, 2019 at 10:31 a.m.!
The Fool calls for a fresh start, new adventure and opportunities with deliberate emptiness to receive things newly, engage childlike excitement, and harness a willingness to step outside the norm for the sake of self-discovery and fulfillment.
Last night, I saw a post on instagram that said “Some of you did not spend your childhoods making potions out of random leaves, berries, and twigs tossed into a tub of water and stirred with a stick that you found...and it shows.” (First of all, I want to say that I do not endorse shaming people for where they are in finding their way into the witch-y world. I’m relatively new to all of this and constantly find myself confronted with a post, comment, etc. that leaves me wondering ‘what the fuck does this mean and am I a fraud for not knowing immediately??’ But what drew me to this post was the memory that this is something I did do. And, as I said on my instagram story “I’ve got poems to prove it.”
I grew up in rural North Carolina on a renovated dairy farm. Old buildings and farm structures lay beneath the soil, buried when they were no longer needed. When the weather was nice, I would take a blanket out to a depression in the land and curl up, book in hand, to read and wonder what I would find if I were to dig a few feet down. Barbed wire fencing twisted through the forest behind the corn field, which bore crops for farmers who leased it. On summer nights, I would run out into the field, dodging stalks and searching for a fox I had seen once. Gullies and endless patches of glass bottles and possible grave markers populated the spaces where my brother and I would spend spring evenings, wandering, picking unnamed vegetation and depositing them in a dusty blue bucket which we would later fill with water and soil from one of the many gardens on the property.
As I learn more about how deeply I feel touched by practicing tarot and reading about spells, astrology, etc., I realize that I am reviving something deep within me, as opposed to reaching for something new. However, in a misogynistic setting, this revival and reclamation feels deeply new and fresh, a wild adventure into something I have not actively sought out before. Damn, it feels good.
With an open heart, the Fool is led by the inner voice of the true Self.
With that in mind, I have made a conscious effort in my tarot practice to draw cards and sit with them for extended periods of time before reaching for the little hand book that came with my deck, which describes the card’s meaning. While seeing someone else’s interpretation is helpful and often adds a more rich and nuanced interpretation, I have seen over and over again that my intuition and instinct are powerful and perceptive.
Sometimes I will sit for days with a reading, drawing the configuration in my journal and returning later in the week to reevaluate how I was feeling about the cards intuitively and seeing how that resonates when I have another access point. I have one reading from December, before I performed an embodied poetry piece I had been planning all semester that I still have not recontextualized with the given meanings (at this point, I wonder if I ever will). I feel quite empowered by this permission to find my own way into the reading, trusting my instincts, and letting whatever associations and impulses arise take center stage over a given standard.
The Fool needs the counsel of others and would be wise to listen when it is offered. The Fool is anxious with seeking and excited for what life is ready to teach.
While I find this new freedom, I also reach for more and more guidance from books, websites, Instagram hashtags and accounts, etc. There’s more than I ever imagined, which is extensively overwhelming (and equally exciting). I also find there is a freedom in seeking and finding things which fulfill those desires.
Last night, I went to the Strand and picked up Witches, Sluts, Feminists: Conjuring the Sex Positive by Kristen J. Sollee. In the introduction to the book, she writes, “This concise primer is an interdisciplinary take on a vast subject, spinning elements of a multifaceted world in kaleidoscopic, new ways. Ideally, [it] will serve as a gateway drug, and which gateway you choose is up to you.” Now that’s the kind of empowering rhetoric I like to hear.
Image by Katie Vogel