In this series I will be devoting a post to each of the 78 cards and their individual magick.
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There is this perfect conjunction of spirituality, art and politics that takes place in the tarot. We get to call it in holistically when the Justice card comes up. The personal is political, especially if you live on politicized land or in a politicized body.
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A real “sphinx take the wheel” moment. There is surrender and trust and acceptance. There is escapism and there is formal letting go and letting gawd. Almost like the hero's first psychedelic experience.
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Enlist your inner hermit when external influences feel too loud and you need to realign with your own feet and re-find yourself.
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“I will dance the power of submission all over the stage tonight. More so than other nights because of the need to convey a feeling without words, to share a broken heart without explaining why. I will become vulnerable to the beast inside me. I will not pet his head or crouch, inviting play.”
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“I’d say this is an opportunity to try to figure out which is stirring your desire to move but I don’t necessarily feel the brain needs to be consulted when The Chariot comes up, there is an invitation to trust your feet, trust the movement, it might be the only prescription needed.”
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“I stick my tongue out without further prompting and he places two tabs of acid just there in my mouth. And we are again locked into an eternal kiss, he flicks a tab back into his mouth and time goes to run errands while the magnets of our bodies seal.”
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Like baby teeth Nadee’s sweet one point antlers release from his crown as if hopping off a galactic train stop just in time for their connection. A golden key sharper than a saw is put to use creating little circles in order to send out as many as possible to the world beyond time.
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My cards were screaming what she had probably seen in many cis women’s spreads. The distrust, the bad taste, the chaotic relationships, the betrayed heart, a sadly malnourished communion with the father. She recommended I pick a God I felt safe with to devote some energy to, in order to begin to heal my wounded relations with the masculine principle. And so my Emperor card was born.
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I’ve had a block up around creating this post for two reasons, one I will elaborate on here in The Empress and save the second reason for The Emperor. The primary reason is because I chose to feature an Indigenous woman on this card and have had some internal dilemma and fear come up, am I culturally appropriating? In meditating on this conflict here is what came up.
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The river is flowing clear and crystal beside me. Mimosa trees flood down the mountain rushing towards the river, stopping just at its edge, propitiating pink puffs Dr. Seuss blooms. I smile at them as they tickle the wind blowing through them.
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I’m a cat person, a big cat person. It’s the liminal gaze, what story is behind her third eye? My twin sib on the other hand is definitely not a cat person.
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The Fool flicks the coin to the grower as his nose buries into the rose, sucking him into its sweet well of aroma, a pleasure portal awaits.
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