Like My Soul

“I wanted one that said ‘black like my heart’,” my writing partner said, “but I figured this was close enough for you.”

She knows me so well.

Big Shape

On our rambles, Miss B and I come across all sorts of things. Sometimes she wishes to investigate them. Sometimes, though, it’s large machinery, and she gives me a sidelong look that says no thanks, Mum, I know better.

Would that humans were as wise as this one shaggy, neurotic little Australian shepherd…

Simply a Screen

My personal readings tend to be bifurcated. I usually blame it on being a Gemini, or having the Chariot as a patron card. At least two great beasts drive me at any particular time, and the trick is to hold the reins correctly and get everyone moving in the same direction.

You can see that here–the Knight going one way, the Queen facing another, and the result in the final card is a bit of a mess. It’s a warning for me to shorten some reins, loosen others, and just generally attend to and be conscious of where the fuck I’m heading.

This brings up something else I used to tell students. The divinatory prop you use is a screen for the precognitive faculty to project upon. Look at the cards and tell yourself a story about the pictures. It’s really that simple. The complex part is being honest about the question you’re asking, and logging your readings so you can see patterns, develop (or excavate) your own symbol-language, and build a relationship with your chosen divinatory method.

You could also say there’s no such thing as a precognitive faculty, and that you’re basically cold-reading for yourself, or using a psychological trick in order to gain self-knowledge. It really doesn’t matter one way or the other as long as it’s useful. Treating it as a faculty and behaving as if it is such works for me. I am interested in results, my particular manner of getting them may or may not change over time, depending on efficacy.

Knight, Lady, Fairy, Survivalist

One of the parks I go through on long rambles/runs/sometimes bike rides recently sported this fellow. It’s a bower, or a shelter. Each time I pass it as the branches brown, I imagine a knight’s lady nestled in it, and what she might be thinking. I tell myself little stories a la Malory, or imagine that the fairies came through one night and this was a place for Titania to rest.

It was probably kids messing around with camp shelters, or one of the area homeless with a survivalist bent. Or maybe there was a rip in dimensional fabrics, and whoever curled up to sleep here awoke in a different place, a different time.

The world is full of stories. You can’t get away from them.

Cards

Every night before I settle in bed to read, it’s time for two things: diary, and a simple three-card spread. Lately the cards have been very, very good, no matter how many times I shuffle.

I suppose I’m feeling cautiously hopeful.

I often think about doing a short, no-bullshit tarot guide, to go with the witchcraft guide people tell me I should write. Maybe someday, in all my copious spare time…

Combien, Zombie?

The zombies are everywhere these days. Including in Duolinguo, where this fellow greeted me during a “learn the questions!” pack.

I have to admit, I was almost laughing too hard to select the correct word.

“Coooooooom-biiiiieeeeeen?” the zombie groaned, jabbing a rotting finger at the display case. Mary, her accommodating customer-service smile frozen in place, struggled to remember how to say ‘$9.99’ in French.

Fireplug

I used to go out at night and take pictures of gas meters. Sadly, I’m out of the habit now, but I find myself noticing fireplugs these days. Sturdy little morning papers for the dogs, waiting patiently in all weather, quietly holding a force that can save homes.

Every time I see one, I feel like the world might be an all right place after all. And of course, Miss B loves every single one she meets.