Tales From The Grail

Sword Play: Navigating the Differences Between the Five and Seven

Wed, 19 Jul 2023 14:18:22 GMT

In the suit of swords, not all struggles are created equal. So why is it that some cards tend to get lumped together? The differences can be subtle, sometimes even sharing some overlapping astrological correspondences. Let's get granular as we sit with the essential differences between the Five and the Seven of Swords.

The suit of swords is the suit of challenges in the minor arcana. It represents the thinking mind, the element of air, and the east within the four directions. While of course there is suffering possible in all four arenas of the self (mind, body, spirit, and soul) the majority of our human suffering takes place within our thoughts and perceptions. This is why the suit of swords is coined as the suit of challenges, because it is the home of not just our logical comprehension, but also of our anxieties. The Five of Swords and the Seven of Swords often elicit similar, uneasy responses in a reading. Popular interpretations of both of these cards involve deception, trickery, and manipulation. At times, particularly when one is early in their tarot studies, the meanings of these ultimately very different cards can be blurred into one generalized sense of dread and deceit. However, like any allies in the tarot that are initially jarring, their deeper meanings begin to unravel themselves as we explore their astrological and numerological correspondences.

The Five of Swords

Astrological Correspondences: Venus in Aquarius

Numerological Correspondence: 5

Corresponding Major Arcana Card: The Hierophant

Just as swords are the suit of struggles in the minor arcana, the fives are the numbers of struggle in the tarot. Each five card in the minor arcana depicts a struggle that requires us to surrender to a truth in some form or other. The Five of Swords in particular presents a challenge of mental and intellectual boundaries. Unlike the more emotionally-charged nature of the other three five’s in the minor arcana, the Five of Swords can appear to have a chilly and almost unfeeling demeanor. We would be wise, however, to remember that the Five of Swords is still ultimately tied to Venus (the planet of love and beauty) via astrological correspondence. For our purposes, Venus in Aquarius can be interpreted as the planet of love in the sign of collective progress. Aquarius is a sign of logic and intellect, but its tendency to favor collective progress over individual intimate connections can color Aquarian energy as emotionally distant or impersonal.

In the RWS deck, the Five of Swords contains a figure standing with two swords in their left hand and one in their right. Two swords lay at the figure’s feet and two unarmed people are seen walking away from the scene toward a coastline in the distance. Though we are unable to see the faces of the apparent former opponents, we can see that one figure is looking downward with face in hands. The wielder of the swords stands proud and smiling with wind whipping through their hair. The sky above is a jagged combination of gray and white, giving the impression that the wind is helping to divide and clear the clouds of overcast above. This imagery can certainly be polarizing, allowing the querent to see either a smiling victor or a smug villain in the Five of Swords.

There are multiple interpretations of this figure, because like all things that exist in the mind-space, there is an element of subjectivity contributing to one’s personal response. Popular depictions of the Five of Swords involve deceit and betrayal, but we would be wise to acknowledge the energetic signature of Venus in Aquarius. The work of Venus, regardless of our subjective responses to it, is always the work of love. Aquarius is the fixed air sign that oversees both individuality and collective social progress. In the scene, there is no visible bloodshed or signs of bodily harm. Though the central character clearly stands victorious in one way or another, the opponents do not appear to have suffered physical wounding. I most often think of the Five of Swords as an opportunity to name our boundaries as an act of love without fear of external reception.

The Seven of Swords

Astrological Correspondences: The Moon in Aquarius

Numerological Correspondence: 7

Corresponding Major Arcana Card: The Chariot

The Sevens of the tarot can be thought of as the choices we make that initiate us into a way of being. Each seven card in the minor arcana presents the querent with a choice. In the Seven of Swords, this is the choice to be dishonest or conceal one’s intentions. The Seven of Swords corresponds to the Moon in the sign of Aquarius. In astrology, we can think of the Moon as the planet of inner emotions, the unconscious, and private life. The sign of Aquarius is ruled by Saturn (the planet of struggle and limitations) in traditional astrology. In contemporary astrology Aquarius is ruled by Uranus, the planet of intellectualism and ingenuity. The Moon, which is ruled by Cancer, is in its fall in the sign of Aquarius by both of these accounts. For our tarot specific purposes, we can consider these correspondences to be a cutting or ruthless sense of individuality within the realm of inner desire.

In the RWS deck, the Seven of Swords depicts a person smuggling five swords and slinking away from what appears to be a military camp. The sky is solid yellow, indicating that the person shown in the card is consciously aware of the choice they are making. In the tarot, the color yellow is an indicator of mental clarity and awareness. The figure peers backward over the shoulder with a self-satisfied smirk, where the remaining two swords are plunged into the ground unclaimed.

The Seven of Swords has varying interpretations depending on its placement within a tarot spread. Generally speaking, The Seven of Swords comes with warnings of trickery and falsehood. Unlike in the Five of Swords, the figure is pictured completely alone. This essential difference lends these seemingly similar cards their very different essences. The Seven of Swords speaks of a time where someone (either the querent or another) is choosing to veil their true intentions. Instead of stepping up to an uncomfortable situation with honesty as an act of love, The Seven of Swords attempts to avoid the discomfort entirely by choosing deception, stealing, or mind games in an attempt to achieve their desired outcome. By attempting to outwit the truth, this choice at its best leads to a sense of false victory. At its worst this choice can lead to karmic retribution, often “blowing up” in the face of the choice-maker. In simpler terms, “the truth will set you free.”

The Five of Swords VS The Seven of Swords in a Reading

This section will include a handful of placement-examples to highlight the key differences between the Five and Seven of Swords using possible interpretations.

The Five of Swords in the position of the querent’s current energy: There is a truth inside of you that must be expressed, even if it is uncomfortable or intimidating.

The Seven of Swords in the position of the querent’s current energy: You have chosen to conceal a truth inside of you because it is uncomfortable or because you believe it will obstruct your goal.

The Five of Swords in the position of a querent’s lover: A person who expresses their truth openly with little concern for how it may be perceived. Possibly an overly-frank person.

The Seven of Swords in the position of a querent’s lover: A person who seeks to hide their truth out of concern for how it may be perceived or obstruct their goals.

The Five of Swords in the position of the best way for the querent to move forward: Stand firmly by your truth as an act of love. Have faith that regardless of others’ reactions, you have chosen honorably by prioritizing honesty.

The Seven of Swords in the position of the best way for the querent to move forward: Sometimes, we have to choose ourselves in order to preserve our truth and move forward. If you are in a situation that involves another who has caused or wished you harm, you are within your right to draw a boundary without further explanation.

The Five of Swords in the position of a querent’s immediate environment: You are surrounded by a myriad of subjective truths, and perhaps they are not all so easily accepted. Sit with these potentially conflicting truths as objectively as you are able. Remain centered in your own subjective experience, but allow your truth to be informed by all factors in a way that feels authentic to your experience.

The Seven of Swords in the position of a querent’s immediate environment: You are surrounded by a myriad of personal agendas. This can be positive, negative, or even neutral, but you would be wise to remember that “every person for themself” is the bottomline in this particular environment. Beware of potential veiled intentions.

The Five of Swords in the position of a querent’s hopes and fears: You are harboring a truth that must be expressed. You may hope that when you share what is on your mind, it will be received as an act of love through honesty. You may fear that this truth will be received as a personal slight, leaving you alone as a result.

The Seven of Swords in the position of a querent’s hopes and fears: You are harboring a truth that you are choosing to conceal. You may hope that by avoiding this truth you can shield yourself from the discomfort of your truth being perceived by another. You may fear setbacks in your personal goals and ambitions, leading you to hide it from the outside world.

Cheers,

Sarah

A Tale of Four Wands: The Union of the Rainbow Empress and the Forest Emperor

Mon, 20 Mar 2023 18:37:53 GMT

Hello Aries Season! A very happy Spring Equinox and Ostara to you all! Please join me in exploring The Four of Wands, The Empress, and The Emperor through a tale of ritual celebration of divine love.

In both its upright and reversed depictions, The Four of Wands is a harbinger of pure joy and celebration. It corresponds with Venus in Aries, introducing correspondences with The Empress (number 3 major arcana, ruled by Venus the planet of love and expression) and The Emperor (number 4 major arcana, ruled by the cardinal fire sign of Aries and its corresponding planet Mars of war and expansion.) I find myself steeped in the energy of this card after a beautiful weekend celebrating the union of two of my very favorite people on earth. On Saturday March 18th 2023 we watched friends Julianna and Greg tie the knot in marriage surrounded by a sea of well earned friends and family. Their wedding date is of The Sun card’s domain via numerological reduction (0+3+1+8+2+0+2+3=19, 19 being The Sun in the major arcana.) Arthur Edmund Waite of the Rider Waite Smith system that we utilize once said that The Four of Wands and The Sun are two cards full of so much pure joy that even the appearance of a reversal could not diminish them. It is my honor and my privilege to elect these two pillars of love in our lives as our archetypal Emperor and Empress, and to elect their wedding day as our archetypal Four of Wands. Because The Sun can also be tied to The Wheel of Fortune via numerological reduction (1+9=10, 10 being The Wheel of Fortune ruled by Jupiter and themes of fate, fortune, and destiny) I also invite in the deeply intertwined energy of The Ten of Cups (covered in our post A Tale of Ten Cups ) to color this ode to love as celebratory ritual.

Julianna is a Taurus sun, and someone who I have repeatedly drawn The Empress card for throughout our exchanges in recent years. Taurus is ruled by the planet Venus, and The Empress corresponds with the planet Venus. She is a technicolor force of nature, bringing grace and kindness into every space she chooses to inhabit. She is a dedicated art teacher and a shepard of children, introducing the youth of our community to the power of their imaginations through the magic of their hands. She consistently and authentically chooses kindness and demands beauty from her surroundings. She is one of the most deserving Empress archetypes living among us. The honor of being the most recent initiate into her soul tribe is never lost on me. For nearly seven years we have woven a friendship filled with art, laughter, depth, and support. I was honored to join a gorgeous rainbow of friends from all walks of life to celebrate milestones over the past year and a half and to commemorate her special day with photos celebrating the platonic intimacy that also rang so abundantly throughout the celebration. As a self identified hedge walker, there was a strange healing made available to me in the Venusian embrace of these special women. Julianna is the ultimate manifestation of the Venus correspondence in our Four of Wands.

Greg is not necessarily one to utilize astrology even casually, and therefore I would prefer to leave his planets and placements out of this. If we are going to be good stewards of the hedge of spiritual autonomy, I feel that includes resisting the urge to peek into someone’s chart who is not abiding by this applied philosophy. I will, however, take this opportunity to draw friendly parallels between my beloved friend and the archetype of The Emperor for the sake of this story weaving (and with his permission.) The Emperor, in its most exalted form, is the picture of consistency and foundation. The Emperor is number 4 in the major arcana, and 4 is the number of stability. There are four sides on a square, four legs on a table, and four posts on a bed. Fours are reliable and sturdy, and epitomize the mellow and steadfast energy of my friend Greg. My spouse and I had the once in a lifetime experience of living beneath Greg and two other beloveds for one sacred year. With an adjoining hallway, we lived with front doors unlocked and an open living room policy. He is a living embodiment of “the more the merrier” , constantly opening his door to friends and family and stoically overseeing the camaraderie from his preferred station in the kitchen. He does not speak to fill dead air, and when he does have something to say it often ends in eruption of laughter to the point of sore ribs. He shows his love through acts of service. He will feed you, he will bring you your spare key, and he will order you ice trays when he realizes you don’t have any. Greg is the manifestation of the number 4 (correspondences: Aries, The Emperor) in The Four of Wands.

My spouse and I have been on speed dial for these special people for the majority of seven years. We have traveled together, embraced each other’s families, and held the torch for each other through transitions and somber times of life. When I picture Julianna it is all music, color, and light. When I picture Greg it is all forest clearings and dry shelter. They come together like a poem dedicated to the Two of Cups, allowing each other’s strengths to nurture the other’s areas for growth like water through soil. Through their differences, new understanding delivers us all the way to the patchwork rainbow that is The Ten of Cups, commemorated in the ultimate celebration that is our living Four of Wands.

Rainbows come in endless forms, but ultimately they are all creations of the sun. We have watched these two people metaphorically dance beneath their rainbow, choosing to embrace the beauty created by the contrast of sunshine and rain. She fills his world with space for self expression and he brings her to mountain tops she may have never climbed otherwise. So today and every day, we raise our grail in a toast of celebration; To love as abundant as Venus, as stable as the number four, and as pragmatic as rainbows.

Cheers,

Sarah

From The Devil to The Star: A Journey from Capricorn Season through Aquarius Season

Mon, 06 Feb 2023 20:41:16 GMT

When we stand at the foot of Saturn's gate, The Devil card asks "What binds you?" and "What are you going to do about it?" We all live in the physical world, and none of us are exempt from the spoils of "too much of a good thing." On our journey to The Star card, The Devil present us with two paths; free ourselves from The Tower or be thrust from it unwillingly. Let's talk about the price we pay for peace, sympathy for The Devil, and the strength inside of The Star.

Capricorn season spans from December 22nd to January 20th of the Gregorian calendar each year and finds its home in The Devil card (#15, major arcana.) Ruled by the planet Saturn, the planet of boundaries and responsibility, we can personify these correspondences as the gatekeeper between the worlds who grants us entry into the new year. In The Devil card in the RWS deck, we see a figure with bat wings and the horns of a goat perched on a stone slab where two prisoners stand chained. He raises his right hand to reveal the glyph of the planet Saturn, reminding us that we are limited by the physical nature of our existence. His left hand holds a torch downward illuminating only the ground on which the captives stand, limiting their view of all but what binds them. The two prisoners share a resemblance to the figures in The Lovers card (#6, major arcana) and The Lovers corresponds to The Devil via numerological reduction (The Devil = #15, 1+5=6, #6 being The Lovers.) Instead of standing naked on fertile land beneath the archangel Raphael, our lovers stand bound to the slab on which our devil (sometimes interpreted as the archangel Uriel) is perched. Uriel is the archangel of the north and the element of earth; much like our corresponding cardinal sign Capricorn.

Though The Devil’s appearance in a reading often strikes the querent with dread, we can contextualize the universal nature of this card’s energy by observing the theme present throughout Capricorn season each year. It begins during a time of heightened consumption as folks around the globe engage in traditions of gift giving, feasting, and imbibing. These rites of hedonism often come to a head on January 31st as followers of the Gregorian calendar who partake in New Year’s Eve celebrations engage in a final night of ecstatic indulgence. When awaking on New Year's Day we will be met with any number of emotions. Some are rattled with existential guilt and driven to set lofty wellness goals as penance for the indulgences had over the precluding weeks. Some will feel moved to keep the party going. My home-city of Philadelphia for example celebrates New Year’s Day with an even bigger daytime blowout than the prior evening. Some will take pensive reflection and execute manageable and measurable changes. And, some will awake with a feeling of apathy for the passing days and a sensation that it’s all the same anyway. All of these responses, free of our own external judgements of the approaches taken, are of The Devil card’s realm.

The vices that we engage with, like all forces in the natural world, are inherently neutral. Alcohol, rich food, and comfort mechanisms of all forms are not evil, dirty, bad, or morally reprehensible. However, as earth-bound beings of the physical realm we can find ourselves limited by our subjective experiences with any or all of these morally neutral temptations. The goal of the planet Saturn, who rules The Devil card’s dominion, has everything to do with learning from the boundaries we come up against in the physical world. These boundaries can look like the drink that takes us from a moment of revelry into a state of sickness or embarrassment. It can look like the moment that a bowl of your favorite snacks becomes a family-sized portion, leaving you nauseous and fatigued. It can also look like the moment your crush becomes an idol of your obsession. The Devil asks “Can you engage in this physical experience without allowing it to consume you? Can you invite this morally neutral being of the physical plane in without allowing it to take over?” and ultimately it asks us to name, in our own words, “What binds you?”

In the major arcana, The Devil (#15) is followed by The Tower card (#16.) The Tower is the card of Mars, often signifying upheaval and disaster in the realm of what we refuse to release. In the zodiac however, Capricorn’s Devil is preceded by The Star, corresponding with the sign of Aquarius (January 21st-February 18th) and its ruling planet Uranus. The Star depicts a singular, naked figure knelt down with one foot in a cool lake beneath a sky of eight-pointed stars. The eight points of each star introduce a correspondence with The Strength card (number 8, major arcana) reminding us that soft resilience is essential on the road to grace. The person holds a pitcher in each hand, pouring water into the lake with one and onto the earth with the other. The Star shares a message of peace, rejuvenation, and the calm that follows chaos. The two pitchers of water are reminiscent of the Temperance card, but instead of transferring water from one cup to the other, the contents of each vessel are being equally distributed back to the land and the water. This symbolic redistribution of resources is highly representative of Aquarius’ energetic signature. An ibis bird (synonymous with Thoth the Egyptian god of magic, the moon, knowledge, and wisdom) perches in a tree in the distance like a teacher watching over a student as they review all that they have learned. It is, hands down, one of the most universally beloved tarot cards for many of us to see in a reading.

Our yearly journey from Capricorn season through Aquarius season provides us with an annual opportunity to observe The Towers we are building in our lives before they are struck down for us. The Devil card, the planet Saturn, and the sign of Capricorn are some of the most potent allies available to us. They are the teacher who shows up on time every day to provide their students with structure. They do not award homework passes or grade on a curve, but they will allow for extra credit. The Devil holds a torch to your chains, not to taunt you, but to remind you that they can be removed. The Star is the deep breath of crisp evening air that fills our lungs on the lawn of our crumbling Tower where we redistribute our once hoarded energy into the eternal return of life. We may think of this span of solar seasons each year as a dress rehearsal for breaking cycles of vice and materialism with agency, freeing ourselves from illusions of greed. When we refuse to see what binds us, the chains grow shorter, heavier, and tighter. The Tower of false-security grows taller. The designated exits begin to disappear from view. When The Tower is struck, it all comes tumbling down without our permission or agency. It is like a reset button akin to demolition, where the rot has become too deep for excavation and complete foundational restructuring is now called for.

This yearly evaluation reminds us that there are two gates that can lead us into The Star. The Devil gives us an opportunity to pay the price of our peace by releasing what is metaphorically weighing us down. So often The Devil is interpreted as the villain in this image , but I believe that this misunderstood archetype is putting himself at risk to bring light and awareness to these Lovers so that they may liberate themselves before The Tower falls around them. In Death (13, Scorpio) we composted what was no longer viable. In Temperance (14, Sagittarius) we learned how to channel that compost into creativity through balance. Now, any decay first missed by Death’s scythe comes up for re-review beneath The Devil’s (15, Capricorn) illuminating torch. It is also worth noting that the biblical name for the devil as we know it, is Lucifer. Lucifer is Latin for “light-bringer” and it has been debated by scholars as to whether God or Lucifer is the true hero of Milton’s epic poem Paradise Lost . The Devil card doesn’t remove our self limiting behaviors, it holds a light to them and offers us a choice. Destroy what binds you, or risk being destroyed by it. It encourages us to call on the lessons of Death and Temperance, utilizing the skills acquired in them to release what no longer serves us and channel it into something generative. All that we attempt to conceal in our pockets in fear will either be stripped from us in our fall from The Tower, or be shed willingly like heavy armor as we run toward the waters of The Star card with open arms. My wish for you is an eight pointed star; a point for courage, grace, humility, faith, compassion, life, death, and rebirth. May its light radiate through even the darkest hallways in The Devil’s Tower, like a lighthouse calling you back home to yourself.

Cheers,

Sarah

A Tale of Three Pentacles

grailhearttarot@gmail.com (Sarah Andrae) — Sun, 08 Jan 2023 15:15:22 GMT

All for one and one for All! The Three of Pentacles is here to remind us that every illusion of independent success is fortified by the efforts and contributions of many. Corresponding with Mars in Capricorn, we are going to touch on the medicine of practical collaboration in the realms of ambition and expansion.

As we move through the threshold between 2022 and 2023 I feel overjoyed to be collaborating with the Three of Pentacles. The Three of Pentacles corresponds with Mars in Capricorn and the dates December 31st through January 9th. Because it is a three, it also corresponds with the Empress (number 3, major arcana) implying that the mission at hand is one of beauty, creativity, and love despite the austere nature of our host sign of Capricorn. For our purposes we may interpret these correspondences as getting sh*t done (Mars) by embracing radical practicality (Capricorn) in the realm of The Empress (Venus.) In the Colman-Smith depiction we see three people conversing beneath a cathedral arch adorned with three pentacles. They have distinct uniforms, implying that they are each bringing a unique skillset to this work environment.

The first collaborator wears a humble gray frock and appears to be the member of clergy assigned to oversee this project. They match the cool gray stone from which our cathedral is constructed, connecting them to the physical structure and our corresponding sign of Capricorn. Our second wears flowing red robes and holds a scroll confidently in their hands. They are our architect, an agent of the planet Mars engulfed in crimson and brandishing the masterplan to divide and conquer the project. Our third collaborator stands on a bench wearing a work apron with a mallet in hand. They are our mason who transmutes the verbal guidance of the teammates into a tangible result to be enjoyed by all. They are a true agent of The Empress.

The Three of Pentacles is here to remind us that everything we do in life is an act of collaboration. So often, we feel the external pressure to achieve success independently. Our capitalist culture reveres the ability to overwork, overachieve, and over-accumulate as a badge of honor (think Four of Pentacles, Ten of Wands, or maybe more gently the Nine of Cups.) CEO’s maintain outlandish salaries as company-elected Godheads while folks on the ground floor are dealt shekels in exchange for providing the functions essential to the company’s dealings. This illusion of independent success removes us from the wisdom of an ecosystem where organisms thrive as a direct result of mutual support and diversity. In other words, it takes a village. In A Tale of Three Cups I spoke very briefly of my humble legacy of establishing independence in youth. During this stretch of dates that correspond with our Three of Pentacles, I find myself reflecting on what my quickly approaching ten year anniversary of self-sufficiency means to me. Once worn like a badge of honor, I find myself wholly prepared to sacrifice the notion of independence on the altar of 2023.

Author, organizer, Octavia Butler* aficionado, and GHT’s designated archetypal Hierophant (number 5, major arcana) adrienne maree brown was the first to introduce the word interdependence to me in her earthmoving 2017 offering Emergent Strategy. I find the medicine of interdependence gorgeously represented in the following passage:

*If you are unfamiliar with SciFi pioneer and prophetic world-builder Octavia Butler, please treat yourself to a deep dive to learn more about this visionary and her work

“E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G—is connected. The soil needs rain, organic matter, air, worms and life in order to do what it needs to do to give and receive life. Each element is an essential component. Organizing takes humility and selflessness and patience and rhythm while our ultimate goal of liberation will take many expert components. Some of us build and fight for land, healthy bodies, healthy relationships, clean air, water, homes, safety, dignity, and humanizing education. Others of us fight for food and political prisoners and abolition and environmental justice. Our work is intersectional and multifaceted. Nature teaches us that our work has to be nuanced and steadfast. And more than anything, that we need each other—at our highest natural glory—in order to get free.” Brown, Adrienne M. Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds . AK Press, 2017.

I used to think that success was a one letter word. I can handle it. I’ll take care of it. I’ve got this. I did it. There was a certain ecstasy in rising to the occasion to keep myself afloat. I worked multiple jobs, attended massage therapy school on nights and weekends, and paid bills the moment they entered my hands to ease my icy terror of debt accumulation. I used my scrappy sensibilities as armor to shield myself from the external factors that led me to leap from the nest of my childhood home prematurely. Any insinuation that I was at risk felt like an insult to my ability to provide for myself. I wanted to be the hero in my own story, and I wanted to do it in a way that felt true to myself. But the thing about a hero’s journey is that it does not, cannot, take place in a vacuum. Heroes almost never journey alone. They encounter allies, enemies, friends, and foes that all contribute to the texture of their journey.

I’d like to pull from one of my all time favorite pop culture references to better emphasize the need for interdependence over independence. J.R.R Tolkien’s timeless classic “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy is one of the world’s most beloved hero’s journeys ever taken. The saga takes place in a fictional world called Middle Earth and begins in Hobbiton, Shire. The Shire is home to the hobbits. Extremely small of stature, hobbits build petite cottages in the bellies of The Shire’s rolling hills. The Shire is a picture of safety, seemingly sheltered from the reach of malevolent forces in the outside world. Here, we meet our protagonist Frodo Baggins, his best friend and gardener Samwise Gamgee, and fellows in troublemaking Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took. In the film adaptation , Frodo’s story begins with the arrival of Gandalf the Grey, a wise wizard and friend to the hobbits of The Shire. He rides into town on a horse drawn carriage singing “The Road Goes Ever On”*

*”The Road Goes Ever On” is a composition by the character Bilbo Baggins, the protagonist of Tolkien’s “The Hobbit” which takes place in Bilbo’s youth. Bilbo Baggins is the uncle of Frodo Baggins. This crossover reference and Gandalf’s entry scene were created for the film adaptation.

Later that day, Frodo’s uncle Bilbo Baggins makes an unexpected and bizarre announcement at his 111th (or “eleventy first” in the text) birthday celebration of his intentions to “disappear.” Sliding his hand into his pocket, he slips the title ring onto his finger and vanishes from sight. Through the chaos and shock of the crowd, Gandalf realizes what has just happened and takes off for Bilbo’s home. The One Ring to rule them all is the most powerful and corrupt of the 20 total rings of power forged by the Dark Lord Sauron in the second age in an attempt to lure the rulers of Middle Earth into temptations of power and domination. Its goal is always to return to its master, gradually corrupting all who come to possess it into obsession and loss of humanity. Well aware of the danger in his possession, Bilbo swallows fiery temptation and surrenders the ring to Gandalf before embarking on a final adventure far from home. The ring ultimately represents the temptation for independent domination. Frodo returns to the house to discover Gandalf smoking his pipe and staring pensively at the ring. After confirming his fears, Gandalf seals the ring in an envelope to avoid direct contact with the tainted relic. Forged in the fires on Mount Doom in Mordor, the ring can only be destroyed in the belly of the beast in which it was created.

What Frodo is about to learn will change his life and the course of history forever. Pure of spirit and determined to save Middle Earth from spectral and living forces that support the Dark Lord Sauron’s vision, our protagonist must leave The Shire and journey to Mount Doom to destroy the One Ring once and for all. His best friend Samwise is determined to champion Frodo on his quest and to keep a promise to Gandalf, famously saying “I made a promise, Mr. Frodo. A promise. Don’t you leave him, Samwise Gamgee. And I don’t mean to, I don’t mean to.” Frodo and Sam then travel over the threshold together into the farthest from home they have ever been.

The trilogy follows the journey taken by these two companions and the cast of friends and foes that they meet on their way. By the time Frodo has gained the protection of the full Fellowship of the Ring, he will find himself immersed in the support of their diverse skills and resources. Gandalf the Grey (and eventually, Gandalf the White) is our magician who provides wisdom, love, and sorcery. Aragorn, (*swoon*) a ranger of the north sworn to Gandalf to protect The Shire and rightful heir to the throne of Gondor is a loyal protector and skilled horseman and fighter. Gimli, a dwarf and descendant of Bilbo’s old traveling companions, is a fierce axe-wielding warrior who deeply influences the route taken by our fellowship. Legolas is an elven warrior and master of bow and arrow. Boromir is a man and a prized warrior of Gondor. And last but not least, our mischievous Merry and Pippin, who join Frodo and Sam by fateful happenstance while crossing paths at the edge of The Shire.

Through the misty mountains and beyond, our fellowship divides and conquers the tasks at hand through skill sharing. This motley crew uses teamwork to balance the needs of the whole, ultimately leading them to complete the seemingly impossible mission at hand. Even our tragic villain Gollum (once a hobbit who devolved into a malignant cave dwelling creature over 500 years of possessing the One Ring) and more gently Merry and Pippin (who seem to cause chaos and error at every turn) play integral roles in the success of our hero.

Near the brink of death and exhaustion with only the veiled guidance of the creature Gollum, Frodo and Sam climb up the side of Mount Doom. Frodo stands at the edge with a glazed look in his eyes. Sam pleads with him through tears to release the ring into the fire, but Frodo turns around and says “The Ring in mine” slipping it onto his finger and so from site. In one final betrayal of self and other, the creature Gollum renders Sam unconscious, leading to a battle between Gollum and an unseen Frodo at the edge of Mount Doom. Gollum bites off Frodo’s finger and takes the ring along with it. Drunk with the power of the ring, Gollum loses all awareness of his situation. Frodo and Gollum engage in the final fight to the death for the One Ring. They fall unwittingly and unwillingly from the cliff edge and Gollum catches the ring on his finger just in time to be slowly engulfed by the molten core of Mount Doom. Hanging on the edge of oblivion from nine fingers, Frodo is begged by Samwise to take his hand and save himself. There is a look in Frodo’s eyes that seems to wonder if it would be easier to surrender to the flames than to accept this final act of selflessness from the unsung hero and guardian of his journey.

By taking Sam’s hand he not only saves himself from a fiery death, he metaphorically allows the power of friendship (or the ”all”) to conquer the power of domination (or the “one.”) A thousand hands turned the soil on Frodo’s journey to destroy the One Ring, each playing unique and integral roles entirely their own. Each loyal warrior, magic maker, seer, spirit of the trees and forests, piece of armor, enemy, friend, horse, fire, and each stale loaf of lembas bread contributed an essential function to destroy the concept of absolute power and save Middle Earth. Being the hero in this story is not about individual success, but rather the assembly of many to destroy that very notion for the upliftment of the whole.

The Three of Pentacles is here to remind us that achievement can only happen in connection and that everyone has a unique skillset to bring to the revolution. So this month, I celebrate my ten year anniversary of leaving my “Shire” with a Declaration of Interdependence. To every person I’ve loved, every person I’ve lost, every artist I’ve ever been nourished by, every farmer who has fed me, every roof that has provided me shelter, every dog who has trustingly offered me their belly, every example I’ve lived by, every cautionary tale, every server who has ever brought me my coffee and called me “baby,” every friend I’ve made, and every friend that was simply there all along: I couldn’t have done any of it without you.

So when the Three of Pentacles presents itself to you, think first and foremost about teamwork. Whatever your mission, goal, question, or concern, this is not something that can be conquered as a singular entity. So often, we think of “ego” in terms of conflation or self-absorbedness but I find that most often our ego is the part of us that expects more-than-human ability from ourselves. It is the voice in our head that tells us we should be able to handle it all, and that we are failures for the mere fact that we are designed to be interdependent beings inside of an intelligently evolved ecosystem. The Three of Pentacles is the ultimate toast to interdependence and a gentle reminder that “absolute power corrupts absolutely.” My wish for you is a team of support as diverse and sophisticated as a living ecosystem; where every role, no matter how small, may propel you toward collaborative victory.

Cheers,

Sarah

Hello Sagittarius Season! A Journey Through the Land of the Temperance Card

grailhearttarot@gmail.com (Sarah Andrae) — Mon, 05 Dec 2022 18:53:48 GMT

A sacred messenger has presented themself to you: The prophecy? Balance the tools of the four directions to support your creative evolution! The Temperance card represents the sign of Sagittarius, ruled by the planet Jupiter. Jupiter is the planet of fate, fortune, expansion, and gifts from the universe. Jupiter is associated with Zeus, god of gods who rules on Mount Olympus in Greek mythology. Jupiter rules the 9th house of religion, spirituality, travel, and artistic development.

Sagittarius season runs from November 22nd to December 22nd of the Gregorian calendar each year. Sagittarius is the mutable fire sign that governs philosophy, travel, adventure, and spiritual development. It also corresponds with the Temperance card in the major arcana. As number 14, Temperance is also tied to the Hierophant via numerological reduction (14, 1+4 = 5, number 5 being the Hierophant.) In Colman Smith’s depiction of the Temperance card, the scene frames an angelic figure holding two golden cups. There are several interpretations of this winged figure, but for our purposes we will be looking at this angel as the goddess Iris of Greek Mythology. We touched briefly on this messenger goddess who travels by rainbow in A Tale of Ten Cups. Unlike the messenger god Hermes who often provides support to mortals by filtering communications through his own morals and ambitions, Iris’ messages come directly from the Olympians. Iris’ messages are free of personal interest or temptation, ringing crystal clear across the rainbow on which she journeys from Mount Olympus. She stands with one foot still in the water. Two yellow iris flowers bloom on the shoreline where our messenger’s other foot stands firmly planted, connecting her to the image of the holy mountains in the distance. Her gown is white and flowing and there is a gold triangle within a white square in the center of her chest.

Our angel stands with eyes closed, a steady stream of blue water traveling between her golden cups. This angel is performing creative alchemy by joining the forces of water, earth, and spirit. She delivers the messages of the heavens and earth back to the water, which represents our emotional world and intuition. The Temperance card is first and foremost about balance and moderation. This often challenges those who are early in their tarot studies, as Sagittarius is associated with fire, moxy, and acts of ecstatic liberation. However, as we deepen our relationship to tarot correspondences and astrology, we will come to see that Temperance is precisely the card to deliver the medicine of Sagittarius and the 9th house. Let’s talk about Sagittarius, the 9th house, and the collaborative elemental process of becoming.

I met my dear Sagittarian friend Joy Masi when we were 18 years old. We worked together in a high end retail tea shop in the center of our local shopping mall passing out samples, brewing up new concoctions, and hustling loose leaf tea by the ounce. Fully caffeinated and fresh with potential we spent downtime at the tea counter discussing my massage therapy and herbalism studies and Joy’s passion for photography. 5’3 with the eyes of a doe, the presence of a praying mantis, and a smile to rival her name, she had taken the job to supplement her wedding photography business. As a fellow self-sufficient teen and blooming young eccentric I was instantly inspired by her professional tenacity in spite of her young age. We merchandised cast iron pots and matcha latte frothers in between tea sale shakedowns and tallying the day's markups. We exchanged philosophies on life, art, and travel. She shared photos from her weddings and from hikes or allnighters at Philadelphia’s FDR skatepark. She was always headed for the next exploration at clock-out time and remains Sagittarius embodied to this day.

Since first stumbling into each other's lives nearly eleven years ago, we have remained a golden thread intricately woven throughout each other’s life tapestries. Throughout her extensive travels and my many transitions we have continued to find each other at the crossroads. A sudden inspiration to text the other will often be met with an affirming “I was just thinking of you dude!” followed by a series of plans to make plans ultimately culminating in a day of combing the cosmos and imbibing with our favorite plant allies. Camellia Sinensis is one of the world’s most treasured and cultivated plants. Though less known by its Latin name, Camellia Sinensis is the species of evergreen that provides us with the gift of tea. Tea leaves from the Camellia Sinensis plant come in a variety of preparations, mostly notably white, green, black, and oolong tea. Flavors are achieved through selective breeding and cultivation followed by oxidation practices specific to each flavor profile. This creative process of collaboration with the spirit of Camellia Sinensis provides a rich metaphor for the processes made available to us in the 9th house of Sagittarius.

The angel of the Temperance card bears a square on their chest representing the four directions:

North (the realm of earth, body, bone, ancestral wisdom, the tangible, and the planet)
South (the realm of fire, the spirit, passion, creativity, willpower, and the sun)
East (the realm of air, the mind, intellect, new ideas, communication, and the heavens)
West (the realm of water, the heart, the intuition, emotions, and the moon)

Squares are sturdy and balanced with four symmetrical sides. The number four corresponds with The Emperor (number 4, major arcana) who governs over our personal empire. Our inner emperor requires balance in these four realms of self in order to govern effectively. Within the square we see a triangle, representing mind, body, and spirit. This also introduces a correspondence with The Empress (number 3, major arcana) This represents our innate essence that remains present through all of our varying expressions of self. While it is difficult to cite any one definitive source of magical correspondences for each tea, we will be using the correspondences for black tea in Scott Cunningham’s treasured classic Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs to guide us in selecting our remaining three directional correspondences.

Black, South: Requires a process of cultivation, harvest, bruising and wilting, rolling, complete heat oxidation, and drying
Oolong, North: Requires a process of cultivation, harvest, bruising and wilting, cooling, rolling, partial heat oxidation, roasting to halt oxidation, rolling again, and drying
White, East: Requires a process of tender cultivation, early harvest, light wilting, steaming, and drying
Green, West: Requires a process of cultivation, harvest, immediate controlled heat exposure, rolling, leaf shaping, drying, sorting, and sometimes (in the case of matcha green tea) total and complete pulverization.

Despite the multitude of complexities discovered during their unique processing journeys, each tea’s status as Camellia Sinensis remains unchanged.

Just as tea remains Camellia Sinensis through every preparation, Joy has remained true through every evolution of self. Her check ins are authentic, our collaborations are meaningful, and our friendship is speckled with photographs and cups of tea. When my spouse and I were originally to be married in November of 2020, Joy was the first person we approached to capture our memories. News of looming pandemic shutdowns began to surface in early March, aligning with a lapse in health benefits as I completed the first 90 days in a new position. Joy accompanied us to the municipal building on a Friday as we scrambled for an early marriage license in the face of the pending uncertainties. She signed as our witness and stole tender photographs as we applied for legal recognition of our familial commitment to one another. With 48 hours to go before we could proceed with a courthouse service my spouse and I joined the rest of the world with bated breath waiting for developing information about Covid-19. By that Monday, immediate quarantines were issued for all nonessential businesses. We called municipal courthouses and the surrogate court, whose operator apologized through tears of empathy as she was forced to deny us an opportunity to be wed under the wire. After two months of stringent quarantining, the state of New Jersey announced that marriage ceremonies could now be conducted via zoom. When we received news that the mayor of our town would be offering free virtual orator services we got right to work.

Joy had been quarantining alongside her family in Kentucky, where she swiftly journeyed home (in true Sagittarius fashion) just in time to capture our moment safely. Whenever I look through our wedding photos, I feel entirely transported back to the sights, smells, tastes, and feelings of that day. She took our concrete driveway and conference call wedding ceremony and helped wilt, roll, oxidize, dry, and steep it into something genuinely magical. She harnessed the forces of elements outside of our control and called them back into perfect balance through the sacred medium of her art. Through her many journeys and artistic evolutions, she has cultivated an artistic lens that grants the viewer a portal into where she has been, the things she has seen, and (maybe) where she is going next. She was our angel of Temperance, traveling across bridges and streams to help us blend what was already available into our own private rainbow.

So when the Temperance card presents itself to you, look to the four directions and take stock of your resources, thoughts, creativity, and emotions. Are they in alignment, or could they benefit from a ritual calibration? Next, take stock in your mind, body, and spirit. Are they being centered equally and fairly in this cosmic balance? When approached with intention these seemingly conflicting facets of self offer us a watercolor of generative choices that support our philosophical development. When approached without intention, they can lead us to reach for short-term gratification over sustainable choices. Just like the goddess Iris, the voice of our intuition rings through clear and uncompromising as it nudges us toward more authentic and empowered actions. If Temperance presents itself to you in reverse, consider where in your life you may be turning a willful blind eye to an inward call for balance or personal moderation. My wish for you is a balancing act as bold as black, wise as oolong, soft as white, and nutritive as green; never compromising your most innate and vital essence.

Cheers,

Sarah

A Tale of Ten Cups

grailhearttarot@gmail.com (Sarah Andrae) — Sun, 06 Nov 2022 20:07:02 GMT

There is a joyful and loving message outstretching itself above you. The Ten of Cups is here to talk about family values and the value of family. But what makes a family? Representing the planet Mars in the sign of Pisces, we're going to touch on what it means to fight for our right to rewrite our own family values.

The Ten of Cups is the tarot card most associated with the happy family. In the Waite-Smith depiction, we see two adults embracing with one arm outstretched in celebration. A pair of small children in similar dress dance in a circle with locked hands. The landscape is fertile and green with a small river and a cozy cottage in the distance. To me, the most striking element of this card is a rainbow that stretches over the scene. The Ten of Cups corresponds with Mars in Pisces. Because it is a 10, it is ruled by the Wheel of Fortune (number 10, major arcana.) For our purposes we can consider these correspondences as the otherworldly connections (Pisces) that we are willing to fight for (Mars) in the realm of the Wheel of Fortune (Jupiter.) The Wheel of Fortune corresponds with Jupiter, the planet most associated with expansion and gifts from the universe. It is as if Jupiter itself has gifted this happy family with an omen of sacred protection: a rainbow of ten cups.

Rainbows have been a part of global symbolism and mythologies for all of human existence. In Greek mythology, rainbows are associated with the goddess Iris. Iris is a messenger goddess who travels via rainbow to deliver messages from the gods on Mount Olympus. In Norse mythology, the realm of man and the realm of Asgard (the realm of the gods) are connected by a burning rainbow called Bifrost. In the book of Genesis in Christian mythologies, the rainbow is a promise directly from God that there would never be another earth-swallowing flood. The rainbow is also synonymous with the dragon in Chinese mythologies. Dragons and rainbows both exist in the realms of sky, making them inhabitants of the space that connects us to the heavens. Hong (or sometimes Jian) is a two headed dragon whose name literally translates to “rainbow.”

From religious mythologies to folk legends and lore, the rainbow is virtually always a good omen. We associate it with peace, the calm after a storm, childlike enchantment, and renewal of hope. In a more modern context, the rainbow has been elected the official (general) symbol of the LGBTQ community. The rainbow flag was first presented by artist Gilbert Baker in San Francisco’s Gay Freedom Day Parade on June 25th, 1978. It has since become a sigil of sorts used as a universal sign of alignment with the queer community. For many queer identifying folks, myself included, this symbol had adopted a bit of a loaded undertone. Sigils and symbols matter. If they didn’t matter, corporate marketing teams wouldn’t budget hundreds of thousands of dollars acquiring and circulating custom branding and logos. As the general public’s demand for inclusivity and intersectionality increases, so does the interest in commodifying our movements.

Here in the US, Pride Month is celebrated for the entirety of June each year. Pride Month annually honors the Stonewall Uprising of 1969 with four weeks of public LGBTQ community celebrations, proclaimed official by government standards in 1999. The Stonewall Uprising began on June 28, 1969 when police raided the Stonewall Inn of Greenwich Village in New York City. Completely fed up with constant police brutality and social repression, the patrons of Stonewall began to push back against the police aggression in response to violent arrests. The uprising would continue on for six days between the police and the human rights activists. This group action would go on to spearhead gay rights movements around the world. Reflecting on the willingness of our queer ancestors to fight for their rights to community access sits so tenderly in my heart when thinking about the 10 of Cups.

Much like the symbol of the rainbow, the concept of “happy family” can also be loaded for many of us. While it is certainly true that not all queer folks experience rejection or scarcity in their immediate family systems, that still isn’t the case for the majority. We are still swimming in extremely young territories of publicly embraced liberation. Our increased access to history, community, media, culture, and public interest provide us with opportunities for affirmation beyond our ancestors’ wildest dreams. Still, we remain in a period of transition as we work to establish a permanent seat at the social political table. The equal rights of countless folks remain suspended in the balance of a decaying system. Countless others outside of the reaches of provisional privilege spend their lives closeted, lest they face legal charges or worse.

Now, let me be clear is stating that being a queer person is one of the greatest joys in my life. I have had an internal sense of my queerness and gravitated toward queer spaces for as long as I can remember. I have never experienced complete houselessness, I have access to medical care, and I have been employed in some form or another since I was a teen. I’m a femme presenting person who benefits directly from assumed-CisHet privilege within my union to my phenomenal husband and ally. I have the option to shed my queer identity in moments of danger, and I have the option to give myself over to a life of quiet, convenient convention. However, I believe that subverting my identity as a queer and magically-oriented person dishonors the lineage of ancestors who risked it all to shine a light on what freedom should look like, and how much it still eludes us to this day. It is an honor to live in a time of queer liberation. It is an honor to fight through the Marsian Valley in defense of our communities. It is an honor to create queer spaces, an honor to inhabit them, and an honor to keep them alive and well.

This is why I feel it is essential to reflect on symbols and what makes them sacred. Is it wide-spread novelties and advertising campaigns? Or is it the embodied feeling of safety and promise that we find in queer space. We live under capitalism and that is a current fact of life. Consumerism fuels our economy and nothing, including social justice movements, is pardoned in its wake. However, just like rainbows themselves, the ecstatic presence of community affirmation cannot be captured. When we break from conventional objectivity, we create space for the subjective. When we honor the subjective experience, we create space for deeper understanding. The felt-sense of authenticity and intimacy that is possible is our rainbow. Our willingness to redefine the concept of a happy family for ourselves is our ten cups.

I believe that authors of the stunningly gorgeous Missing Witches: Recovering True Histories of Feminist Magic put it best in the following passage:

“When we say binary we mean things that are opposites or set up in opposition to one another. Either This or That. Day, Night. Black, White. Good, Bad. In the language of computers’ binary code there are only ones and zeros. 1 or 0. Nothing else. But to view the world in only sets of ones and zeroes, thises and thats is, as we’ve seen over and over again, easy, uncomplicated, and deeply Dangerous. It sets us up as Oppositional. Day and Night are opposites, sure, but we can all agree that some of the most magical times are held in those blurred spectral moments between the two? The dusk, the dawn, and the in-between times. The binary we are almost always talking about when we use this term “Nonbinary” is Man/Woman. Some people feel trapped by society’s expectation that we fit into one and only one of two, only two, options: male OR female. The binary says Red or Blue only, but I don’t want to live in a world without Purple. Purple is my favorite color.” Dickens, Risa, and Torok, Amy. Missing Witches: Recovering True Histories of Feminist Magic . North Atlantic Books, 2021.

Rainbows are arcs. They connect two visual points like a bridge, always making space for Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, and Violet. They symbolize our direct connection to sources that cannot be stolen and sold back to us by religious dogma or doctrine. It makes perfect sense to me that the rainbow would also become the elected generalized symbol of LGBTQ alignment, because a felt-sense of identity is just that. Authenticity in our self-identity is the bridge that tethers us directly to source. This does not mean that you do not have access to source if you are unable to publicly live your authentic truth safely, in fact it is quite the opposite. That tiny voice of massive knowing inside is like Spirit’s invisible hand on your shoulder with the promise of greener pastures. Your happy family is out there, and if you can’t find them, put a hand over your heart. Follow the rainbows.

So when the Ten of Cups presents itself to you, reflect on your feelings around connection and family. Does it elicit joy or do you bristle at the concept? What does it feel like inside of your body? What does the ideal image of a happy family look like in your inner world? How do you define your internalized family values, and do they serve your highest good? If the Ten of Cups presents itself to you in reverse, consider where your internal family systems could benefit from the cool balm of authentic loving connection (queer or otherwise) My wish for you is a rainbow that tethers you to the voice of your truest self, devoid of shame, alive with love, and illuminated in every color.

Cheers,

Sarah

Hello Scorpio Season! A Journey Through the Land of the Death Card

grailhearttarot@gmail.com (Sarah Andrae) — Tue, 25 Oct 2022 15:42:46 GMT

Fear not mere mortal, Death is here to alchemize what no longer serves us. The Death card represents Scorpio, ruled by the planet Pluto. Pluto is the planet of death and rebirth, spiritual reclamation, and new potential. Pluto is associated with Hades, ruler of the underworld, in Greek mythology. Pluto rules the 8th house of resurrection, sexual relations, transmutation, literal and metaphorical inheritances, and emotional depths.

Scorpio is arguably the most misunderstood sign of the zodiac. It is perhaps rivaled only by Gemini in terms of shallow public bias, but like most misunderstood things it contains a depth of wisdom fundamental to the balance of life. It is only fitting that a sign as rich as Scorpio would correspond to an equally misunderstood tarot card. The Death card is number 13 in the major arcana, which also ties it to The Emperor via numerological reduction (13, 1+3 = 4, number 4 being The Emperor.) In Colman Smith’s rendition of the card, we see a skeleton in black armor on horseback brandishing a black flag with one open white rose on it. The horse’s pure white appearance creates a stark contrast against a scene of destruction as our antihero stares ahead through an eyeless skull. He approaches a pleading religious leader who appears to be bargaining for mercy. A figure that shares a striking resemblance to the person in the Strength card (number 8, major arcana) falls back on her knees with a look of total surrender in her face. Another unidentified character lays outstretched beneath Death’s horse. In the distance it appears as if a dam has burst releasing a previously stunted body of living water.

Despite these initial horrors, the card is equally rich with promise for renewal if you are able to contextualize them among the chaos. This is highly symbolic of the shape in which Scorpio energy moves. The white rose on the flag implies that a hope for peace accompanies our harbinger of Death. On the horizon above the flow of water, we see two towers akin to the ones in The Moon card (number 18, major arcana) but instead of being presided over by the hazy and feral moonlight, we see a cresting sun creeping out from between its pillars. While it could technically be setting, there is a definitive feeling of rising when I look at this sun. It peers across the dim landscape as the liberated water fertilizes the barren land. The adults in the image are all in positions of reconciling their fates or succumbing to them, but it is the image of a youth that epitomizes the potent medicine of this card. At the foot of Death’s horse stands a small child who looks up into Death’s face, as if curious to see what treasures he may present him with.

Now, I’d like to take this opportunity to talk about compost. Composting is the process of breaking down food scraps and organic materials into fresh soil, thick with the lifeforce of its contents. It requires the decay of what is no longer appropriate for direct consumption, moisture to reconstitute the wilting matter, and heat to expedite the breakdown process. We then take that soil and use it to nurture new life. I love looking to this process for inspiration while being with Scorpio, Death card, Pluto, and/or 8th House energy. They teach us that death and rebirth are mandatory functions of nature and that what no longer sustains us can be alchemized into new growth.

This process helps tether us to the cyclical nature of life in spite of our anti-death and aging culture. We embrace the value of life, death, and rebirth by facilitating a full-circle return of natural materials back to the land. This is infinitely preferable to ingesting spoiled rations, or wrapping naturally transmutable waste in forever-plastic to break down in isolation, never returning to the earth from which it sprouted. This necessary decay, deep excavation of rot, and alchemical transformation is the precise medicine of the Death card.

Scorpio season spans from October 23rd to November 21st of the Gregorian calendar each year. Here in the Northeastern US it is when the green leaves of spring and summer burst into an impassioned blaze of red, yellow, and orange. There is a sense of rapture in this annual display as the wheel turns steadfastly toward Sawain. The flamboyance of this ritual death is like an encore from our deciduous tree allies leaving everything on the stage before falling to the earth like piles of curled papyrus. If left undisturbed, the beds of fallen tree offerings create a natural ground cover that fertilizes the earth and creates a barrier against invasive cold-hardy plants. The now bare trees turn gracefully inward, engaging a state of radical rest until the first silent stirrings of Imbolc. These plant allies act as a gorgeous source of metaphor for engaging cycles with agency while moving through the Plutonian Valley.

A storyline that comes to mind in reference to the Death card is 2007’s “Juno,” starring Elliot Page, Michael Cera, Jason Bateman, and Jennifer Garner. Title character Juno MacGuff (Elliot Page) is a pregnant teenager looking for a stable, loving couple to adopt the unborn child. With the support of Juno’s parents and respectful distance from best friend and partner in conception Paulie Bleeker (Michael Cera) Juno connects with Vanessa (Jennifer Garner) and Mark Loring (Jason Bateman) to discuss adoption. The remainder of the film follows Juno through a series of growing pains as this seemingly perfect arrangement reveals a hidden rot. Juno, being naturally unconventional and too young to understand the unspoken conventional etiquette of adults, befriends Mark Loring after discovering their mutual love of punk rock.

Vanessa, who wants to be a mother more than anything in the world, appears utterly gripped with fear and anxiety throughout the film. She is a well-meaning raw nerve, always anticipating disaster after a prior adoption arrangement fell through at the last moment. Mark, on the other hand, appears cool, calm, and collected. He is much more interested in discussing Sonic Youth, horror flicks, and his Les Paul guitar with the teenager than he seems to be in the prospect of fatherhood. This atmosphere becomes tangible to the viewer before it becomes tangible to our protagonist, coming to a head in a scene at Mark and Vanessa’s home. One day while Vanessa is out, Juno and Mark discuss mix tapes and Mott the Hoople in Mark’s basement pseudo-bachelor pad. They begin to slow dance to “All The Young Dudes,” baby-bump set between them. Juno seems to drift off like a child sleepily dancing with one’s favorite uncle. This temporary innocence is shattered when Mark reveals his plans to leave Vanessa and pursue his dreams.

The scene culminates in a confrontation about the nature of their relationship. Vanessa comes home to discover a distraught Juno being hushed by Mark. Our previously anxious and overly serious Vanessa’s maternal instincts to protect the teen present themselves instantly. She is sturdy and firm, looks him in the eyes, and says “What did you do.” This soft power may be easily missed, but it is one of my favorite moments in the film. Mark goes on to reveal his true feelings about becoming a father and working indefinitely as an advertisement jingle composer. Deeply rocked by utter disillusionment with a previous role model, Juno takes off in the signature blue minivan before pulling over on the side of the highway, hyperventilating. There our protagonist experiences a massive catharsis, tears and sobs ripping through a typically precocious face. This feral expression of the pains of disappointment, disenchantment, or disillusionment is deep Scorpio medicine. Once this emotional dam is cleared, the solution becomes clear to Juno. Vanessa is still capable of being a loving mother to this child, even without the half-hearted support of a husband stuck in the past.

Through this painful and demoralizing experience, all parties are able to come to a more genuine and authentic path. Mark presumably goes off to live some sort of city life, Vanessa becomes a mother, and Juno steps over the threshold of adolescence and into personal agency. Juno becomes empowered to approach Paulie with emotional honesty and they shift from best friends to romantic partners. Everyone is better off in the end than they were in the beginning, despite the thorny nature of the experiences themselves. This necessary purging, this pruning of dead matter for the betterment of the whole, is the white-rose offering of the Death card.

So whenever the Death card presents itself to you, evaluate what in your life needs literal or metaphorical composting. Scorpio season is a fantastic time to make this an embodied practice. Go deeply inward in search of what no longer serves you. Bare it bravely on your chest with arms wide open as an offering to the harbinger of the Death card. Be reborn as the Page of Cups. What has spoiled cannot sustain us, what is false cannot teach us, and what is rotten cannot support us. It is a part of human nature to cling to the things that cause us grief for fear of change. This excavation process is not necessarily glamorous or comfortable, but it contains real solutions if you act with agency. My wish for you is a ritual shedding that rivals the intensity of autumn leaves, alchemizing what we can no longer carry into a thing of wild and untamed beauty.

Cheers,

Sarah

A Tale of Three Cups

grailhearttarot@gmail.com (Sarah Andrae) — Mon, 17 Oct 2022 01:57:05 GMT

Huzzah! The Three of Cups is here to toast our most trusted and treasured companions. Representing the planet Mercury in the sign of Cancer, we're going to touch on what it means to communicate the messages of our heart to the ones who know it best.

The Three of Cups is one of my favorite minor arcana cards to see in a reading. It is the card of soul family, nurturing friendships, and of tight-knit community. Because this card is a three, it is ruled by The Empress in the major arcana. This connection imbues this special card with abundance, sweetness, themes of reparenting, and the generative nature of reciprocal creation. The Three of Cups corresponds to Mercury in Cancer, which for our purposes we may think of as communicating from the tender reaches of our hearts. In the traditional Rider-Waite depiction brought to life by the incomparable artist Pamela Colman Smith, we see three people dancing in a circle of revelry. Each raises a golden cup high in the air, as if toasting the depth of their connection. Lush patches of pumpkins and vines sprawl at their feet, reminding us that they are the forces of loving intuition (Cancer) ruling all communication (Mercury) in the realms of The Empress (Venus.)

A movie that comes to mind when looking at the card is the 1995 classic “Now and Then” starring Demi Moore, Rosie O’Donnell, Rita Wilson, and Melanie Griffith. For those of you who are unfamiliar (and I highly recommend the watch if not) “Now and Then” is the story of four friends who make a pact in childhood to always, always be there when one of them needs the others. The film waxes and wanes between coming of age scenes of childhood and scenes of the four adult friends reconnecting in the strange light of nostalgia for the birth of Chrissy’s (Rita Wilson) first child. This type of connection that transcends the ages is synonymous with the Three of Cups. It is kind because it is honest and strong because it is rooted. It is the invisible cord that binds us to our chosen family, impervious to the sands of time.

This brings me now to a more personal association to this card. As a storyteller at heart, I find that personal anecdotes can be a potent portal when exploring the textured landscape of tarot. For me, the Three of Cups elicits the image of the small attic apartment on East Greenwood Avenue. This is the story about three best friends and how one tiny apartment in the sky became a shared crossroad for self discovery, sisterhood, and the art of reparenting ourselves.

I first met Sherrie in massage and bodywork school in January of 2013. She had long blonde hair a la Farrah Faucet, tattoos that greeted you from her knuckles to her neck, and a pixie nose that seemed to me an arrow to her knowing blue eyes. As the weeks moved on we embarked on our somatic learning journey. Despite our ten year age difference we became fast friends and we even started working together at a local massage clinic. We were stationed at the front desk, selling memberships and scheduling appointments, all while dreaming of the day when we too could bring our acquired gifts to the collective. In January of 2014, there was a snow storm. We are from the North Eastern US and snow is an occasional fact of life. It is generally no cause for panic, and short of extreme conditions, it is commonplace for businesses to remain open within reason. This was not one of those storms.

Sherrie and I were tasked with driving into work to cancel all of the day’s appointments. By the time we had finished contacting the final clients, snow was coming down sideways in all directions through the panoramic windows of the clinic lobby. At the time I was living 30 minutes away without traffic, requiring 4 highway exchanges and a small handful of county roads. Since Sherrie lived two towns away and our friendship had already bloomed into one of comfort and collaboration, we decided we would journey to her home together and return to my car when the storm cleared. Through the icy bluster, we walked laughing and squealing to the grocery store at the front of the shopping center. We filled our basket with artisan crackers, garlic stuffed olives, red wine, and a brick of vintage farmhouse white cheddar. We were determined to make a fun surprise sleepover out of the inconvenient weather event.

We would spend the better part of three hours slowly inching our way through the bumper to bumper traffic in Sherrie’s eggshell white VW Beetle convertible. In an attempt to pass the time, and distract ourselves from our maxxed out bladders, we cranked “Jeremy” by Pearl Jam and laughed hysterically as we satirized Eddie Vetter’s “WHYYYYYYYYYYYY.” This was so effective that we found ourselves finishing a round just for kicks even after pulling up outside of the tiny blue house. This was the first night I would spend in the small attic apartment on East Greenwood Avenue.

Sherrie took me down the icy walkway to the side of the tiny blue house. After a series of sharp right turns up the steps, into the storm door, and finally into the stairwell, we worked our way up toward the growing scent of Nag Champa. The apartment was like something out of a humble fairytale. It was tiny, with slanted attic walls covered in frameless photographs and different acquired treasures. The bedroom was concealed from the living room by a set of swinging saloon doors just low-hanging enough to reveal a beam of silvery moon through a recessed skylight. Once in the bedroom, all inhabitants were forced to squat lest they hit their heads on the 5 foot drop ceiling. The kitchen had a cozy atmosphere despite the painted over wallpaper that hung loose and bubbled. Through the kitchen there was a small bathroom whose shower required all those under 5”2 to bow humbly to the sharp slant of the rooftop. The rent was $600 a month and the means were simple, but I had never seen an adult living inside such a potent artistic expression of herself before.

Sherrie fixed us bowls of leftover pumpkin and turmeric soup and she talked about her different strategies for nourishing herself on a poverty budget. We watched “Almost Famous” and cried together when the members on the bus began to sing “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John. She showed me pictures of her best friend Jess, who had lived in this magical little apartment right before she did. She shared anecdotes from their friendship and their shared passion for cultivating health within their means. Jess had recently become a business owner and was stepping into her role as professional guardian of local dogs. She spoke of Jess’ tenacity and desire to make a life for herself despite the hardships that they shepherded one another through in youth. “You just have to meet her, Sarah.” She was right about that.

That night was a seed planted during what would soon prove to be a liminal time in our lives. Later that year, I embarked on a month-long work exchange that took me out to San Diego and all the way up to Mendocino County. Just as I was returning home from my California adventure, my dear Sherrie was just embarking on hers. She moved to California in September of 2014, and it was my turn to move into the tiny attic apartment on East Greenwood Avenue. She has lived in several regions of California, making her way from a home in the north to her eventual destination of Oceanside. She has been pursuing her craft and thriving in ways beyond the wildest imaginations of those two girls sharing soup in the deep chill of that one New Jersey winter.

“You two have to be friends, even when I’m not here!” Sherrie would remind Jess and I every time we said our tearful goodbyes after our first few combined visits from the thread that tethered us together. Jess was living in an apartment overlooking the lake in the center of the neighborhood where I was still living in our sacred hand-me-down. She has since become my trusted ally, a voice of reason, and a living example of what is possible when you put your nose to the grindstone to fulfill your soul’s desires. She is mine, and I am hers.

Over the past 10 years, we have been a constant in each other's winding and weaving stories. When we are together, we wake each other with stifled giggles at the first sign of daylight and spend our days eating delicious food and indulging in the conversations that are only possible with the tribe of your innermost heart. When we are apart, we are cheering each other on, communicating thoughts of love, and reminding each other of our special gifts. When I was married via Zoom ceremony during the 2020 quarantine, Sherrie watched from her SoCali mountaintop and Jess ran defiantly down the gravel stone driveway (fully masked) just in time to see us say “I Do” first hand. They are some of the first people I want to share good news with, and they are the ones who hold the torch for me in darkness. We also discovered, as one does, that all three of us share a moon in Cancer. The moon is the planetary body associated with Cancer, as it represents our emotional experience and inner world. I find it quite fitting that three people who have found ways to consistently reparent themselves with the support of divine friendship would share this placement. It also lends itself quite poetically to our beloved Three of Cups.

So when the Three of Cups presents itself to you, drink from the well of your chosen family. Remember the ones who see you for who you really are and root yourself in the whisperings of your heart. If the Three of Cups presents itself to you in reverse, perhaps this is a time to ponder where in your life this energy feels blocked or inaccessible as an antidote. It can also allude to “frenemies,” peer pressure, or false community. Regardless of the placement in your reading, the Three of Cups is here to talk about your heart, what it longs to communicate, and the people most equipped to receive your vision. My wish for you is a community soft as feathers, firm as oak, and sweet as love to hold that message with you.

Cheers,

Sarah