Part 1, Chapter 1

Introduction

The Eilat Tarot deck is named for the small desert town on the Red Sea. While it includes the well-known imagery of Pamela Colman Smith's art, it was inspried by elements of Jewish mysticism, especially insights from the Sefer Yetzirah and the Tree of Life.

The first part of this companion book explains the deck's sources and structure. The second part explores possible meanings of each individual card.

Chapter 1
Reflections

Rather than offer a formal introduction to either tarot or Kabbalah, this chapter shares the inspiration behind the Eilat Tarot. I reference some of the books and decks that shaped this project. The Eilat Tarot is the result of decades of study, practice, and living. Much of what I’ve learned has become second nature, with roots I can no longer trace. I offer my heartfelt thanks, and my apologies, to the many teachers, artists, and thinkers whose insights have shaped this work but go unnamed in these pages.

My Journey with Tarot

In high school, a friend had a tarot deck that she never used because some cards were missing. After graduating in 1983 and moving to the "big city," I began a search for my own tarot deck. After many months, I finally found one–in a toy store of all places! It was David Palladini’s Aquarian Tarot. The images intrigued me, but also left me puzzled. Bookstores at the time carried only one guidebook: A.E. Waite’s Pictorial Key to the Tarot, a famously cryptic text. So for years, I shuffled the cards and gazed at them, learning the images by heart but not understanding what they meant.

Eventually, I came across Norma Cowie’s excellent book, Exploring the Patterns of the Tarot. Over the next decades, I filled its margins with notes and ideas. That spine-broken volume, now housed in a small three-ring binder, is still my most loved tarot guide.

Later still, The Robin Wood Tarot, featuring brighter, more narrative imagery, helped me understand tarot symbolism a little better. Isabel Radow Kliegman’s Tarot and the Tree of Life spelled out the link between the numbered Minor Arcana cards and the ten sefirot of Kabbalah, and between the court cards and the Four Worlds.

I briefly abandoned tarot, feeling it was not part of my journey, but later realized it is an essential component of my spiritual life, allowing me to connect with my intuition and my soul.

It seemed to me that Kabbalah and tarot were two distinct traditions which, for some reason, people really wanted to link to one another. Although I was certain that tarot wasn't Kabbalah, I tried to find the figures, stories, and lessons of Torah in tarot.

Years later, Donald Tyson’s Portable Magic offered a clear explanation of the Golden Dawn’s restructuring of the Major Arcana. It was at this time that I began making notes and outlines for my own tarot deck.

The Raziel Tarot by Rachel Pollack and Robert Place revealed that tarot could be renewed through authentic Jewish learning and mystical tradition. Eugene Vinitski's artistic and beautiful Tarot of Magical Correspondences suggested to me how I, not an artist by any means, might create a colorful deck of my own through collage. (Ultimately, that's not how I created the Eilat Tarot, but the inspiration kept me working on ideas for a deck. In the end, the deck resembles my original vision for it, which coincidentally, is very similar to his earlier Kabbalistic Tarot.)

Tarot as Companion

Over the years, my understanding of the tarot cards evolved alongside my life. I can see that growing understanding in the changing notes I wrote in the margins of Norma Cowie’s book. The cards helped me make sense of events and better understand myself. More importantly, they helped me stay grounded in a world that is always changing.

The world challenges us because it is always changing. That challenge is what spurs us to continue seeking and questioning. Tools like tarot or the weekly parashah offer steady points of reference in life’s shifting currents. These images and texts help us stay rooted as we grow, offering new insights each time we return to them.

Eventually, I stopped looking to the cards only for answers and began seeing them as mirrors of my own inner knowing. My life experience began to shape how I understood the cards, and the cards, in turn, helped me see my life more clearly.

In his commentary on the Sefer Yetzirah, Aryeh Kaplan suggests that the text is less about contemplating mystical symbols and more about cultivating a way of seeing the world. That insight resonated with me. Tarot helped me develop some of that inner sight.

My Journey with Kabbalah

My introduction to Jewish mysticism began with The Way of Splendor by Edward Hoffman. His book offered an accessible entry point into the history of Jewish mysticism and eventually led me to deeper study. Lawrence Kushner’s was elusive and when Danny Matt taught a class on the Zohar at my synagogue, using a Kinko’s copy of what would later become his famous translation, I appreciated his warmth, but understood no part of the text.

At the UAHC Meditation Kallah in Prescott, Arizona in 2000 and 2001, Rabbi Ted Falcon introduced me to Kabbalistic prayer and meditation. After that, I was shocked to learn, in Robert Wang’s The Rape of Jewish Mysticism by Christian Theologians, that Renaissance theologians had studied Kabbalah to aid their efforts to convert Jews. Later, they become captivated by its spiritual beauty, and reframed it in Christian terms, making it foundational to Western occultism.

I abandoned tarot briefly, feeling it wasn't permitted in Judaism. However, I realized it's an important tool, helping me to connect with my intuition and know myself. Surprisingly, it was studying a Jewish text in a six week course on Sefer Yetzirah taught by Rabbi Jill Hammer, that returned me to my tarot project.

Aryeh Kaplan’s translation and commentary on the Sefer Yetzirah arrived at a significant time in my life. It became a companion while living in Eilat, during my struggles with aliyah, and in the months before a series of surgeries that would save and transform my life. The mystical path doesn’t yield to effort alone; it opens only when we’re ready.

Tarot and Kabbalah

Many tarot decks include Hebrew letters on the cards, suggesting a connection between tarot and Kabbalah. In fact, the two systems arose in entirely different cultures and for different purposes. Tarot emerged in 15th-century Christian Europe as a set of playing cards, which only later took on divinatory and esoteric meanings.

Kabbalah, by contrast, is the Jewish mystical tradition, rooted in antiquity and still evolving. It explores the revelation and concealment of the Divine, the transmission of Torah, and the nature of creation itself. Its symbols, ethics, rituals, and stories arise from and inform Jewish life and learning.

Over the centuries, people have noticed resonances between the two traditions. There are twenty-two Major Arcana cards in the tarot and twenty two letters in the Hebrew alphabet. There are ten numbered cards in each suit of the tarot and ten sefirot on the Tree of Life. The Golden Dawn’s system of correspondences sought to unify tarot, astrology, alchemy, and Kabbalah into one symbolic framework. Syncretism is not new. In the ancient Mediterranean world, spiritual traditions often borrowed, blended, and reshaped one another. Greek philosophy left its mark on Jewish mysticism, just as Jewish thought helped shape the spiritual imagination of late antiquity.

While Kabbalah is not an inherent part of tarot, Jewish writers and deck creators like Isabel Radow Kliegman, Rachel Pollack, and Betzalel Arieli have shown that it is possible to bring authentic Jewish thought into conversation with tarot. The Eilat Tarot continues that conversation.

Inspiration for the Eilat Tarot

Over the years, I searched for a tarot deck that felt genuinely Jewish, not one with Hebrew letters pasted on the cards, but a deck that engaged deeply with Jewish texts, themes, and questions. I wanted a deck that would resonate with Torah, not merely echo Christian occult readings of Kabbalah.

The Eilat Tarot emerged from my desire to combine tarot’s symbolic language with the spiritual and ethical wisdom of Judaism. I believed that together, they could speak meaningfully about human experience.

I struggled and failed to find figures or stories from Torah in the cards. However, Aryeh Kaplan’s translation and commentary on the Sefer Yetzirah showed me a poetic structure capable of illuminating tarot in new ways, not through rigid correspondences, but through the harmonies of nefesh, shanah, and olam (soul, time, and world) that are hinted at in the Sefer Yetzirah. The Sefer Yetzirah, a short, enigmatic text, dated somewhere between the 2nd and 10th centuries, was the foundation for later Kabbalistic mysticism, distinct from the earlier Merkavah and Hekhalot traditions. Its meditations on letters, breath, and creation became central to the emergence of this deck.

I began studying the text while living in Eilat, just before a series of major surgeries that saved and transformed my life. The Sefer Yetzirah became more than a sourcebook; it became a companion through pain, healing, and renewal. My study of it relied primarily on the English translation and did not include a knowledgeable teacher or study partner, so my conclusions may be quirky, but I hope they are meaningful.

I understand why so many people have linked this particular Jewish text to the cards. Kaplan’s commentary, grounded in his careful translation, helped me imagine a tarot rooted in Jewish thought and shaped by Jewish questions, a tarot that would not dictate fixed meanings, but invite the reader into the unfolding experience of revelation.

The southern city of Eilat gave the deck its name. Surrounded by desert, mountains, and sea while reading and rereading that text, I found in that silence and solitude a place where I could study and listen to the shimmering presence of creation. Out of that stillness, a vision of tarot began to take form.

The deck emerged in less than two weeks. After creating the deck, I found a book that I had read years earlier, Carol Bridges’s The Medicine Woman Inner Guidebook. Her work may have influenced the structure of the Eilat Tarot, more than I was aware while creating it.

Just as significant as Kaplan's text was the influence of my best friend, Arlan Wareham, who taught me by example that a logical mind can live in harmony with a reverent spirit. He also showed me that our outlook shapes how the world meets us. His unwavering optimism, grounded in kindness and thoughtfulness, has been one of my greatest sources of wisdom. Mr. Pollyanna has been my finest teacher.

The Eilat Tarot does not attempt to make tarot “fit” Kabbalah. Instead, it simply invites the Rider-Waite imagery into conversation with the Sefer Yetzirah, the Tree of Life, and Jewish ideas of emanation and divine presence. It hopefully conveys that creation is ongoing, that each person carries a spark of divine creativity, and that we can begin to see the world more clearly through intuition and learning.

The Eilat Tarot is a response to the question: Can the ancient symbols of one tradition illuminate the mystical insights of another without either losing its integrity?

This deck offers one answer.

The Creation of the Deck and Guidebook

The deck itself emerged rapidly. I completed it in less than two weeks. Howeer, what began as a “little white book” quickly grew into a very large white book. Writing about the deck became an almost all-consuming project, fueled by a sense of urgency, and the joy I felt in sharing it.

This book explores how I believe the 78 tarot cards align with the spiritual architecture of the Sefer Yetzirah. Alongside that structure, I offer reflections on Pamela Colman Smith’s images and how they continue to reveal new meanings over time.

I hope this book will become your companion. I invite you to write in it, to scribble in the margins, to question what no longer speaks to you and expand on what does. That practice has shaped my own journey. For nearly 40 years, I’ve been annotating Norma Cowie’s Exploring the Patterns of the Tarot. That well-worn copy, its spine long gone, remains one of my most valued companions. I hope this guide becomes something like that for you.

Tarot doesn’t reveal its wisdom all at once. Its meaning unfolds over time.

The Large White Book

I’ve been writing, rewriting, deleting, rearranging, and generally wrestling with Part One of my book for months. Part Two, the section where I will actually discuss each individual card of my deck, remains mostly theoretical. I’ve written about only three of the seventy-eight cards! The Fool is not the only one on a long journey.

To nudge myself forward, I asked the UPS store to print a hard copy of the book. I thought seeing it would be motivational. I was not prepared for the size of it!

They handed me a brick.

A 254-page brick.

I hadn't realized how much material I’d dumped into my Google document. Three-quarters of it is still a chaotic constellation of notes, half-formed ideas, and passages muttering to themselves in the margins.

It could have been intimidating, but holding that heavy stack of paper made the project feel strangely real... solid, so to speak.

And then, instead of pressing forward with Part Two, I made the mistake of reading Chapter One.

Within one paragraph, I was thinking, "That needs work."
By the end of the page: ״Oh no, all that needs to be fixed!"
By the end of the chapter, "How could I have written something that bad?"

So now I have a dilemma: which should I do first? I can't bear to leave Part One in such a state, but if I don't move on to Part Two, the project will never be finished. And of course, once Part Two is written, there will undoubtedly more reasons to revise Part One. Again.

So maybe the wisest choice is to a deep breath, accept that writing is a messy business, and keep moving forward.

On the other hand... maybe the book feels poorly written because I’m used to writing for my blog and keeping an audience in mind. Maybe if I try posting those initial chapters to my blog, just to see them in a more public light, I’ll see how to improve them.

Speed Reading

I woke up this morning expecting to call in sick, but felt a little better and proceeded to get ready for work. But my throat was a little scratchy and I was slightly stuffed up, so I engaged in a little fantasy. What could I do with my day instead of work?

I didn’t have time for a long tarot reading, so I asked three quick questions and pulled one card for each.

Option 1. Go to work: Nine of Coins

The Nine of Coins shows a woman in a secure, walled garden surrounded by wealth. That’s me at the bank: literally surrounded by money, but also contained, safe, and earning the paycheck that’s slowly rebuilding my sense of financial stability.

There were the familiar roles, coworkers to interact with, and the challenge of learning a job that relies on my weakest traits.

The Nine of Coins can also indicate isolation. Going in today did mean continuing to push aside the personal matters that I really do need to reflect on, pretending everything is fine while growing just a touch more cynical.

Option 2. Reflect on my social life and do some tarot readings about it: Knight of Cups

I usually see this figure as a someone wandering aimlessly and holding a cup of daydreams, but he’s a knight and he might be holding a divination cup (like Josef's). He can indicate someone actively seeking emotional clarity, meaning, and connection.

This made him a perfect card for a day of reflecting on synagogue, friendship, relationships, and the trajectory of my life in the States... or back home. It could have been a good time to explore hope and direction.

But the Knight of Cups can chase ideals instead of grounding them. I might have spent the whole day wandering through feelings... or, more realistically, gotten pulled into binge watching the show I’m currently obsessed with.

Option 3. Work on my large white book: Queen of Wands

The Queen of Wands is a woman of focused fire, and she shows exactly what would have happened if I had spent the day on my LWB! I would have gotten a good amount of work done. Even one fully fleshed out section would feel amazing, The accomplishment would strengthen my confidence, my voice, and my sense of identity.

The downside was obvious: no payc for the day, and no attention to the personal issues I've kept postponing. And if I had started to feel sick later in the day, I would have been unlikely to rest; I would have just pushed through, riding the Queen of Wands’ momentum instead of going to bed.

(Realistic ETA for completing the book: 78 cards × one week for a draft × one week for revisions = about three and a half years.)

I chosen option one because momentum was already pulling me in that direction. And it was a good thing, too! Three other people were out-- two of them unexpectedly. I'm tired, but not worn out or feeling under the weather.

The Deck I’ve Been Waiting For All My Life!

Today, I’m expecting to receive a deck that I'm incredibly excited about: Stav Appel’s Torah in Tarot, a polished reproduction of the Jean Noblet Tarot, a medieval French tarot deck originally published in Paris around 1650.

In his book, Appel convincingly argues that this deck was a deliberate attempt to preserve and disguise Jewish tradition: Hebrew letters, biblical stories, and religious practices woven into the structure of existing Italian playing cards. At the time of its fist publication, the Church was actively trying to erase Jewish heritage among recently converted Christians. Some French crypto-Jews may have pretended to play trifoni as a cover for learning, just as Jews once pretended to gamble with dreidls as a cover for learning Torah.

That may sound far-fetched. One YouTube reviewer did a casual flip-through and dismissed the idea as fantasy. But as someone familiar with tarot imagery, I know the difference between projecting ideas into card images and recognizing what’s already there. And once you see it, it’s hard to unsee!

I used to turn up my nose at Marseille style decks because I found the art crude and unappealing. That was until Appel pointed out that the odd wheels in The Chariot are actually Torah scroll handles and that the tools on The Magician’s table are elements of a medieval mohel's kit. Even the name “tarot,” whose etymology has long puzzled scholars, may be a pun on “Torah.”

Before you roll your eyes at another un-scholarly theory about tarot’s origins, take a moment to look at the cards online. The Fool is clearly shaped like the Hebrew letter tav. The ayin is right there for all to see in La Maison Dieu (The Tower), as are the tablets of the Ten Commandments. The marks on The Magician’s dice point to the eighth day when circumcision is performed. The rays of sunlight in La Maison Dieu point to the date, Tisha b’Av. And most striking of all-- how could I have missed it-- the mikveh right there on The Judgment card! There are too many coincidences to dismiss as mere coincidence.

During the Inquisition, Jews who converted under duress were watched carefully to ensure they were not practicing Judaism. Hebrew texts and rituals were banned under threat of torture and execution. And yet, Jews tried to remember our heritage. 700 years later, some families wonder why, on Friday nights, they turn the picture of Jesus to the wall before lighting two candles. Many strange customs whose roots point back to hidden Jewish identities have been documented.

The idea that crypto-Jews in France may have used tarot to preserve and transmit tradition isn’t wild speculation. It fits into a broader pattern of cultural camouflage, such as secret mezuzot carved into door frames.

Why has no one else noticed the Torah in tarot before Stav Appel? Probably because the history of tarot is surfeit with exotic theories of its origins in ancient Egypt or in Kabbalah, making it sensible to dismiss tarot altogether. Even I used to roll my eyes at the notion that tarot is Kabbalah. I didn't believe that Judaism is in the tarot, but I was trying to put it there. (Keep an eye out: my deck and book will be coming out soon.)

Thanks to Torah in Tarot, I now know how medieval French Jews attempted to preserve our culture in the cards and I have a guidebook to help me recognize the symbols and stories they chose to preserve. It adds depth to my already existing obsession with tarot.

Once the package lands on my doorstep later today, I’ll dive in. For now, I just wanted to share the anticipation.

Revisiting MBTI & the Tarot Court Cards: A Reflection and Revision (2019 & 2025)

Six years ago, I attempted to map the 16 Myers-Briggs Type Indicators (MBTI) to the 16 Tarot court cards using a symbolic wheel and a mixture of structure, intuition, and trial-and-error. At the time, I included David Kiersey’s temperament groupings in my calculations and tried to distribute the four pairs of traits evenly among the Tarot ranks (Page, Knight, Queen, King) and suits (Pentacles, Swords, Cups, Wands).

I’ve returned to this project with a simpler approach. While I still believe that Tarot and MBTI are not systems meant for one-to-one correspondence, I’ve found surprising results in aligning them through trait-to-symbol associations.

This post compares the Kiersey-MBTI version from 2019 with an MBTI-centered version, both of which explore how these two systems may echo each other.

The 2019 Version: Kiersey Modification of MBTI Mapped with the Tarot Court Cards

I assigned the suits to the MBTI cognitive functions:

Sensing (S) → Pentacles
iNtuiting (N) → Wands
Thinking (T) → Swords
Feeling (F) → Cups

The Attitudes (E/I) and Lifestyles (J/P) could fall into any rank, but I made sure each MBTI temperament group (SJ, NJ, SP, NP) and each Kiersey group (NF and NT) got one card of each rank. Here’s how that looked.

The 2025 Version: MBTI-Centered Mapping

This time, I aligned the four MBTI pairs with all the characteristics of the court cards:

Extraversion (E) → Knight / Introversion (I) → Queen
Judging (J) → King / Perceiving (P) → Page
Sensing (S) → Pentacles / iNtuiting (N) → Wands
Thinking (T) → Swords / Feeling (F) → Cups

Each type was assigned one Tarot court card, matching both suit and rank constraints. Here's how they lined up:

SJs – Grounded, Loyal, Responsible
ESFJ King of Cups - Nurturing, emotionally steady leader
ISFJ Queen of Pentacles - Devoted, grounded caretaker <-- me
ESTJ King of Pentacles - Practical and authoritative
ISTJ Queen of Swords - Cool-headed, dutiful, principled

NJs – Visionary, Structured Intuitives
ENFJ King of Wands - Bold, motivational, future-focused
INFJ Queen of Cups - Gentle, empathic, inwardly deep
ENTJ King of Swords - Commanding strategist with clear logic
INTJ Queen of Wands - Confident, inwardly fiery, visionary

SPs – Observant, Action-Oriented
ESFP Knight of Cups - Emotionally expressive, spontaneous
ISFP Page of Cups - Gentle, artistic, emotionally sensitive
ESTP Page of Pentacles - Practical, curious, hands-on learner
ISTP Page of Swords - Cool, alert, quick-thinking

NPs – Inventive, Idealistic Explorers
ENFP Knight of Wands - Energetic, expressive, visionary
INFP Page of Wands - Dreamy, imaginative, hopeful
ENTP Knight of Swords - Fast, sharp, idea-driven
INTP Knight of Pentacles - Steady, cerebral, dedicated

Final Thoughts

The earlier system was an ambitious attempt to align the tarot court with both MBTI and Kiersey’s modifications. It was inconsistent. Many court cards felt misaligned with the emotional tone or functional energy of their paired type.

In contrast, the current system is cleaner, more internally consistent, and symbolically richer. It’s based directly on MBTI’s four dichotomies and maps onto the Tarot suits and ranks surprisingly well. Neither version is “correct,” of course. But this newer approach feels more like a conversation between systems, rather than a forced equivalency.

If you’ve worked with Tarot or MBTI, or both, I’d love to hear what resonated for you. What court card do you see in yourself?

I Know It When I See It

Jonathan Tobin's recent article in JNS, Biased media fuels American Jewish opposition to Israel, argues that many American Jews believe Israel is committing genocide because they’ve been shaped by a relentlessly biased media and have little connection to Jewish identity or Israel itself.

This article blames a biased media. That misses something deeper, something I’ve noticed for decades in parts of the American Jewish Left. I’ve never quite been able to define it, but like that famous judge, I know it when I see it.

Every American Jew has met them: the “Berkeley Jews.” The ones manning the PLO booth on University Avenue. It’s a kind of sickness, perhaps a lingering infection from the 1920s and ’30s, when it was fashionable to be an avowed communist. (It still is in some circles.)

I saw it again just months ago at Congregation Beth Israel in Austin. Men in Torah study speaking as if parroting propaganda made them intellectually brilliant and morally superior, when in fact they were repeating a blood libel.

And then there was the woman straight out of Orwell: blindly devoted to the party line. She knows the slogans better than she knows the history of Israel. When she says, “I believe the State of Israel has a right to exist,” she hopes you won’t notice that everything after “but” cancels out the first half of her sentence, and by extension, the right of any Jew, even herself, to breathe free air anywhere.

What drives this? A desire to set themselves apart from those “other Jews,” the supposedly evil or unenlightened ones? Some sociological phenomenon of the diaspora? A psychological one? I don’t know.

Some call them self-hating Jews. I think that gives them too much credit. They’re not self-hating. They’re self-absorbed! They love their own image so much that they’ve lost the ability to see reality, or to care for other human beings, Jewish or otherwise.

The Scapegoat Lives!

When we say “scapegoat” in English, we are referring to someone who is punished for our misdeeds. But that isn’t how the Torah describes the sa'ir l'Azazel.

In Leviticus 16, the High Priest places the sins of the people onto a goat chosen “for Azazel,” ties a crimson thread onto its horn, and sends it alive into the wilderness. It is not sacrificed. It is not punished instead of us. The goat simply carries our sins away from us, back toward Sinai, into the desert, back to the place where we spent 40 years in the presence of God.

Our modern figure of speech misses the point: the biblical goat is not destroyed but released. Our sins are not wiped away; God graces us with a moment in which we are released from our sins.

The Talmud relates that when God forgave the people each Yom Kippur, the crimson thread turned white, fulfilling Isaiah’s promise: “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow” (Isa. 1:18).

Even without the Temple, Yom Kippur still gives us this gift. For part of this day, we are freed of our sins long enough to recognize them. On this day, we feel the pull toward holiness. Just as each passing hour strengthens our resolve to continue the fast, this day loosens the habits that bind us to our sins.

But we are human and we will sin again, perhaps the very moment the fast ends. (If I am any indication, we may even struggle to keep our thoughts pure during the day itself.)

Yom Kippur gives us a moment when God sees us as pure, and we feel the weight of sin lifted from us. It is a moment to taste what it feels like to live without guilt. We can see more clearly what our sins are and resolve to live differently in the year ahead. Unlike the scapegoat, we can't return to the Wilderness of Sinai, but we can strive to live well where we are, and seek, once more, to draw close to God.

How Medieval Rabbits Hopped into My Dining Room

When the first Passover seder falls on a Saturday night, Jewish tradition weaves together the rituals of leaving Shabbat and entering the festival. On that evening, there is a special sequence of blessings, remembered through the acronym, YaKNeHaZ:

• Yayin – blessing over the wine
• Kiddush – sanctifying the day over wine
• Ner – lighting the candle
• Havdalah – blessing marking the end of Shabbat
• Zman – reciting Shehecheyanu, the blessing for special occasions

Together these form the sequence YaKNeHaZ.

For Jews in medieval Ashkenaz, the sound of the acronym recalled the German phrase “jag den Has,” meaning “hunt the hare.” This coincidence sparked whimsical marginal illustrations in medieval haggadot, where hunters and rabbits became playful stand-ins for the liturgical order.

I’ve always been fascinated by this quirky intersection of language, ritual, and art. And when I started looking for artwork for my new home, I knew I didn’t want something that simply said, “Yes, I took Art History 101,” which, in fact, I didn't.

So with the help of AI, I created a series of illuminated-style images inspired by the hare-hunt tradition. My plan is to print, mat, and frame them as a cycle for my dining room wall. Each image reflects both the pun and the unfolding of seder night:

• The Hunt - a medieval pun with hunter, dog, and hares.
• Havdalah Amidst Rabbits - a candle raised, a cup of wine, and rabbit companions.
• Reading the Haggadah - man and rabbits together, remembering the exodus from Egypt.
• The Festive Meal - seder plate, matzah, and wine shared under a  full moon and starry sky.
• Shofar and Celebration - the hunt transformed into sounding the horn in hope of Elijah’s arrival.

For me, this project feels like reclaiming a bit of Jewish visual history, the lighter, more playful side of medieval manuscript art, and bringing it into a contemporary Jewish home.

Soon, when I hang them right to left (like Hebrew text) or perhaps top to bottom, they’ll read as a miniature illuminated Haggadah cycle. My dining room wall will tell not just the story of ritual order, but also the story of how Jews across time have used humor, puns, and imagination to enrich tradition.

Because ritual, like art, has always thrived when it leaves space for playfulness and laughter.

Poll time again! Help me design the box!

Here’s a first look at the box design for the Eilat Tarot!

I’ve created two mock-ups. One is in black-and-white to match the cards and companion book. The other is in color, inspired by a box of Chanukah candles-but with ten candles to represent the ten sefirot.

The deck itself will be entirely black and white. But I’m still torn about the box! Should it match the cards or stand out like the festival of lights? I would love your thoughts? Black-and-white or colorful? 

And a bonus view of the back of the box!

My favorite writing implement? The eraser!

I just deleted 10 pages of my guidebook and replaced it with a clearer introduction. Real progress!

If you're curious, the footnote says: "Throughout this guidebook, I’ve italicized Hebrew titles and terms such as Sefer Yetzirah and sefirot. Quotations from authors such as Aryeh Kaplan retain their original formatting."

Barbie: The Movie

Just watched Barbie, and I loved it!

The anti-woke outrage? Totally overblown. This is a fun, clever movie… about dolls. It takes the unrealistic world of Barbie and spins it into something self-aware, entertaining, and surprisingly moving.

One thing the movie nailed: as kids, we never knew what to do with Ken. He really was just Barbie’s accessory—and the film captured that perfectly. Honestly, I found myself cheering for the Kens. They weren’t portrayed as villains or victims, just as dolls waking up to the fact that they had no defined identity of their own.

Helen Mirren’s narration is perfect. Of course. The human mother and daughter added some warmth and grounding to the story—though Gloria’s big speech went on a bit too long for my taste. It was really touching when Gloria's daughter began singing along to the Indigo Girls with her mom. And I really enjoyed Barbie’s quiet, unexpected conversations with the ghost of Ruth Handler, the woman who created her.

Also amusing: the human father/husband's cameo. A nice parallel to Ken’s role in Barbie’s world, and a funny little nod to how secondary male characters can be in stories addressed to women.

I was never at all attached to my own Barbie doll, but I did love rebuilding her pink townhouse every time we moved. And I had a great time sewing clothes for her by hand—since the glue in the Barbie Sewing Machine never worked.

Also: when is Mattel releasing Barbie’s Enormous Gem Necklace? Asking for a friend.

What about you? What are your Barbie memories? Did you love her, ignore her, cut her hair off? Feel free to share your stories in the comments—I’d love to hear them.

Poll Time! Help Me Choose a Title for My Tarot Guidebook

Vote! Select a letter below to help me choose a title for my LWB, "little white book." 📖

I’m still deep in the writing process, maybe halfway there, but I’d love your help choosing a title. It's for a guidebook to my Eilat Tarot, a Jewish deck that draws on the Sefer Yetzirah, the Hebrew calendar, the Land of Israel, and the symbolism of numbers and letters.

Which title do you like best? Feel free to vote for more than one, or suggest your own twist!

A. The Eilat Tarot: Little White Book
B. Eilat Tarot: A Tarot of Sunlight, Stone, and Water
C. The Eilat Tarot: Numbers, Letters, and the Land

D. The World Was Created With Letters: A Jewish Tarot Companion
E. Path of the Desert Letters: A Mystical Guide of Desert, Voice, and Vision
F. Letters of Light: A Kabbalistic Tarot Guide

G. Voice in the High Places: The World Was Created With Breath and Speech
H. The Tarot of Returning: A Tarot Guide Through Soul, World, and Time

I. The Tarot of Formation
J. Letters of Formation: The Tarot of Creation According to the Sefer Yetzirah
K. Formed in Silence: A Tarot Guide Through Soul, World, and Time

Thanks for helping me shape this journey! Your feedback means a lot. 💙

I’ll post updates as the project continues!

Contemplative Tarot: What to Do with Darkness

Shadow, Self, and Soul:

What are these dark felings? The Tower suggests that something in my foundational beliefs is shifting. Maybe I’m being asked to believe that conflict doesn’t mean everything is ruined, that even real upheaval can lead to growth.

I wonder. What are these dark feelings revealing? Can I still feel my longing for joy, for connection, for peace? That longing is part of me and it points me back to the vision I hold of emotional harmony and belonging (Ten of Cups).

My soul reminds me that emotions aren’t obstacles. They’re signals guiding me toward what matters. So I choose to keep going faithfully (Knight of Cups). I let my heart stay open and I let my soul guide me, even through uncertain waters.

Make Your Blessings Count

Blessed is he who not only counts his blessings, but makes his blessings count.
- a refrigerator magnet

I’ve been feeling grateful lately—but also a little uneasy about whether I’m doing enough with the good I’ve been given. I’m thoroughly enjoying many aspects of life in the U.S.—the comfort, the ease, the many luxuries—because each one feels like an enormous blessing. Still, I worry that I’m not showing enough gratitude. I’m not putting enough heart into my job training, not taking enough walks to enjoy the weather and scenery, and not making any real effort to meet people or make friends.

So I did a reading with The Ocean Tarot, a mermaid-themed deck that reminds me of Eilat—the jumping-off point for my journey back to the US.

The question I asked was, "How can I rise up and align myself with the blessings I am receiving?"

Fives showed up frequently in this reading. That’s the sefirah גְּבוּרָה (Gevurah), Strength. These challenges—emotional, social, even spiritual—may be necessary to help me grow. Fives often represent spiritual transition. (Across various traditions, fives are generally understood as points of instability, challenge, or disruption that invite growth.)

CARD 1 – The Blessings Present
What blessings or gifts are currently flowing into my life? (It feels like there are so many blessings, I could have pulled a dozen cards.)

Page of Pearls (Cups)
This is the kid who is appreciative and open-hearted toward whatever or whomever he encounters. In this deck, the Page—a merman—is admiring a glowing pearl. The blessings of my new life feel precious, hard-won, and still dazzling. Maybe the real blessing is that my heart can feel wonder and grace. There are seahorses all around him—symbols of patience, fatherhood, and gentleness. The seahorses remind me to approach life gently.

In my Eilat Tarot, this card is called: Servant of Grace

CARD 2 – What Holds Me Back
What pattern, attitude, or distraction keeps me from aligning with these blessings?

Four of Pearls (Cups)
This card is such a contrast to the last one. It represents someone who isn’t paying attention to the blessings around him—or the additional divine gifts being offered. Although I’m aware of all the blessings I’m receiving, I reflexively retreat from opportunities. The fourth pearl, descending with rays of light from the ocean’s surface, evokes a spiritual prompting to stay awake and grateful.

In my Eilat Tarot, this card is called: The Closed Heart

CARD 3 – Embodying Heart and Presence
How can I bring more heart into my work and daily actions?

Five of Pearls (Cups)
This is someone who needs to see not just his losses and what he still has, but needs to "cross the bridge to the castle of dreams," i.e. aspire to the next great goal he can reach. He should not just survive hardship, but dare to hope again. In this deck, there are three broken eggs and two live jellyfish, suggesting sensitivity and vulnerability. I'm being invited to move through emotion into a new purpose. The adult jellyfish in the background suggest emotional maturity, reminding me I can move forward even while remaining sensitive. Bringing heart into daily actions means not fearing emotional messiness, but using it to deepen compassion and connection.

In my Eilat Tarot, this card is called: Crossing the Waters
(I might rename it The Mourner's Path)

CARD 4 – Reconnecting with the World
What will help me engage with nature and people with more joy and aliveness?

Two of Treasure (Pentacles)
Usually this card means being undecided about which path to commit to—but in this deck, the figure resembles The World card. It’s a portrait of joyful receiving rather than striving. It suggests saying “yes” more often, and being a little less guarded.

In my Eilat Tarot, this card is called: The Tension of Two Worlds
(I might rename it The Dancer Between Two Worlds)

CARD 5 – The Path of Rising
What does it look like to rise up and live in alignment with the life I’ve been given?

Five of Spears (Swords)
This is a surprising card in this position. It’s about the sore winner—someone who clings to resentment or conflict. But in The Medieval Cat Tarot, it can also indicate the support of true friends, releasing shame, internal healing, or making amends. Maybe here, it points toward independence—not desperately seeking love or fearing scarcity. It may be a call to walk forward unburdened by the past, to release not just people but also narratives tied to old pain. Once again, I’m reminded of what my father tried to teach me for over forty years—a lesson that’s become something of a personal motto, even if it’s not quite 100% true: “No one is your friend, and money’s the only thing that matters.”

In my Eilat Tarot, this card is called: The Severed Bond
(I might rename it Beyond the Battle)

This reading reminds me: it’s not enough to count my blessings—I must carry them forward, with presence and purpose.

A Tarot Deck of Eilat

After years of study, dreaming, and designing, much of them in the hills and along the shores of Eilat, I’ve finally begun to shape my tarot deck into something real. I call it Candles of Shekhinah, and it brings together decades of reading, years of writing, and a deep desire to integrate Jewish mysticism with the intuitive world of tarot.

The desert landscape shaped how I approached the cards in ways I still can’t fully explain. The red hills of Edom at sunrise, the silence of the southern mountains, and the turquoise glow of the Gulf of Aqaba left an imprint on my imagination. They became part of how I now think about the elements, the sefirot, and the soul’s journey.

Many people helped guide me along the way. I spent my first seven years reading tarot with David Palladini's Aquarian Tarot and no reference books—just perseverance and a small spark of intuition. Eventually, my determination led me to guides I remain deeply grateful to:

• Norma Cowie, whose Exploring the Patterns of the Tarot became my foundational text and still lives in a binder packed with notes and annotations. (1987)
• Robin Wood, whose warm and accessible deck supported me through my early years of reading. (1992)
• Isabel Radow Kliegman, whose Tarot and the Tree of Life first gave me the idea to pair the pip cards with the sefirot, and whose Four Worlds framework for the court cards resonated deeply. (1997)
• Donald Tyson, whose Portable Magic: Tarot Is the Only Tool You Need persuaded me to adopt the Golden Dawn structure—with thoughtful revisions. His reordered planetary assignments gave the Major Arcana a more elegant internal logic. (2016)
• Aryeh Kaplan, whose translation of the Sefer Yetzirah gave me the symbolic vocabulary that now forms the backbone of the Majors, including elemental, planetary, and zodiacal attributions, as well as potent one-word letter meditations like Light, Speech, and Peace. (2018)

A Glimpse Into the Structure of My Deck

Major Arcana: Each card follows the Golden Dawn’s path system on the Tree of Life. Instead of using traditional letter-name meanings (e.g., “ox,” “camel”), I chose the symbolic functions drawn from the Sefer Yetzirah. These attributes, such as Light, Sleep, and Dominance, give each card a conceptual focus. The Letter for each path appears in Hebrew, Paleo-Hebrew, and Ugaritic script, offering both mystical resonance and historical texture.

Sefirot: To clarify meaning and avoid repetition, I’ve retitled the sefirot. Keter becomes Divine Will, Chesed becomes Mercy, Tiferet becomes Beauty, Hod becomes Gratitude, and Malchut becomes Dwelling—a nod to the Shekhinah. Each name is chosen to reflect both spiritual and emotional resonance.

Court Cards: These are people, not abstractions. While I preserved Golden Dawn elemental pairings (e.g., Water of Fire), I chose evocative archetypal titles such as Watcher of the Grove, Rider of the Wind, Keeper of the Field, and Master of Compassion. Following Kliegman’s model, I assigned the Four Worlds of Kabbalah as follows: Pages receive the potential of Atzilut (Emanation), Knights advance the generative force of Beriah (Creation), Queens shape and cultivate in the matrix of Yetzirah (Formation), and Kings bring intentions into concrete expression in Asiyah (Action)

Letters of God’s Name: To reflect the divine presence while honoring sacred boundaries, I include the letters of the Tetragrammaton in Paleo-Hebrew on the court cards to suggest their spiritual depth without reproducing God's name in standard Hebrew script.

Minor Arcana: The pip cards are assigned to the sefirot 1 through 10, with each card bearing a Hebrew subtitle derived from the Sefer Yetzirah. Card titles emerge from a synthesis of Pamela Colman Smith’s imagery, elemental correspondence, and number symbolism drawn from Kabbalah, Pythagorean thought, and the Marseilles tradition.

Decans and the Hebrew Calendar: The decan system helped me assign Hebrew months to the pip cards, aligning each group of three cards with one of the Twelve Tribes of Israel. While drawn from astrological tradition, these correspondences also allowed me to pair the Minor Arcana with Jewish holidays, seasonal rhythms, and historical memory.

There’s much more to do—titles to refine, meditations to write, and a guidebook to shape—but the bones of the deck are here. The work I began in Eilat, the spiritual clarity I glimpsed there, and the texts, teachers, and friends that guided me all live on in this evolving creation.

Stay tuned. More to come!

Reading at Daybreak: A Grounded Path Forward

I seldom use The Forty Servants deck for readings, but this morning I did, while enjoying the morning sun and pleasant air outside my new home. The reading was surprisingly rich and spoke directly to my current transition of settling into life in a new location.

West / Earth “How can I establish a meaningful livelihood?” 
THE IDEA
I already have the seed of my future; my main idea for employment is viable and must be pursued urgently.
Earth is about tangible action and results. The Idea is a call to implementation. This matches my question about work. This card encourages me to trust my idea and take practical steps to achieve it.
I have to start calling the right businesses and ask my friend for her contacts in that industry.

North / Fire “How can I kindle inspiration and passion?” 
THE MESSENGER
There are messages that I am failing to see or hear. Fire brings enthusiasm and divine spark. This card suggests that sources of inspiration aren’t lacking; I just need to pay attention. Something wants to ignite my passion and connect me to others.(In one of the vivid dreams I've had recently, a very dark-skinned black woman in a yellow sun dress came to our door and said to me saucily, “We need to get you a bed-- and a job!!”) 

East / Air “How can I cultivate communication, relationships, and growth?”
THE LOVERS
Relationships are at the heart of a person's intellectual and emotional life. This card tells me to make meaningful choices. It encourages me to choose connection, not isolation. The Lovers also suggests I maintain integrity in how I speak and whom I partner with.

South / Water “How can I nourish my emotional and spiritual life?”
THE FATHER
Seek someone who can provide good counsel, wisdom, and insight--someone who can prepare me to deal appropriately with hardship. Water purifies and clarifies. The Father brings boundaries, strength, experience, and wise guidance.

Center “What hidden needs or overlooked aspects require attention?”
THE DEPLETED 
I am still carrying weight from the past that drains my energy. This card means rest, release, and renewal. While the other four cards point toward growth and forward motion, this one cautions that I must first make space for that growth. The Idea can’t bloom and The Lovers can’t unite if I am exhausted or mentally scattered.

Summary and Reflection: It will be possible to step into the kind of life I came here to create, if I stay grounded and attend to reality diligently. The Idea and The Lovers speak of a bold beginning and aligned relationships. The Messenger and The Father suggest that help is available if I listen closely and accept it. The Depleted card serves as a gentle warning that I can’t build a new life with old habits. I must rest and release.

What Do We Bless When We Whisper?

A few months ago, it struck me that the Shema is an odd prayer. It doesn't seem to be addressed to God. It’s statement of faith made to other Jews, not to God. In the Torah, the words are spoken by the sons of Jacob to their father, affirming their commitment to his God. But, while it was originally God-focused, now it feels people-focused: we are declaring our unity and expressing a sense that something binds us together.

Until the other night, though, I hadn’t thought much about the line we say quietly just after Shema: “Blessed be the name of His glorious kingdom for all time.” What exactly are we blessing? Are we blessing Israel, the “kingdom of priests” that we’re commanded to become? Are we God’s kingdom? Or are we joining the angels in their eternal praise of God, HaMakom? (And what is כבוד? In Hebrew, the word is often translated as “glorious” but also suggests weight, substance, or significance...)

I was taught that we whisper these words because they are the words angels chant endlessly around the throne of God—and because the words break the flow between words of Torah, Shema (Deut 6:4) and V’ahavta (Deut 6:5-9). But I’ve begun to wonder: what does it mean to bless the name of God’s kingdom? Is this an act of humility, as if to say, we don’t speak with the voices of angels? Or are we quietly blessing... ourselves?

I've written to the Chabad rabbi in San Marcos and, if he doesn't think I've missed the point entirely, I hope to have some insights that I can share.

Egipcios Kier Card 41 Dissension and the Ace of Cups

My goal is to write about each of the Egipcios Kier cards that Nelise Carbonare Vieira associates with the suit of Cups. I’m beginning with the card she links to the Ace of Cups: card 41, Dissension.

The title of card 41 seems at odds with the glowing abundance that I usually associate with the Ace of Cups. The central image, however, seems more positive than the title.

Here are my upright keywords for the Ace of Cups:

• Upright: Gift of emotions, compassion, creativity, joy, emotional renewal, overflowing feelings
• Reversed: Repressed emotions, distrusting your intuition

In the Marseilles Tarot tradition, all the Aces suggest Initiation. In Kabbalah, the number one corresponds to the highest sefirah on the Tree of Life, Keter (כתר), the Crown, where divine unity begins to emanate into creation. As the Sefer Yetzirah puts it, “Keter is the first emanation, representing the initial divine will and the beginning of creation.” (I wish I were familiar enough with even one school of Kabbalah to say a little more about this sefirah and its connection to the Tarot Aces.)

The central image on card 41 shows four individuals who may be praying, singing, or performing. While there’s a superficial resemblance to the Rider-Waite-Smith Five of Wands, these figures don’t seem to be in conflict; three are standing, one is kneeling, and all raise their arms expressively.

The cartouche contains these symbols:

• The lower section shows a jar or urn turned upside down
• The upper section includes a vulture, a glyph with eight branches, an inverted flame inside a green square, and the Hebrew letter Alef (א)
• On the title line are the symbol for Mercury, a double L, and the number 5 (which may refer to Tiferet or to Gevurah on the Tree of Life)

Kaplan writes that “internal strife was one of the primary causes of Egypt’s decline and eventual loss of independence.” That idea resonates with the Talmudic claim that Jerusalem was destroyed due to internal hatred. (Before that, it was infighting among the Hasmonean Dynasty, the Maccabees, that led to Roman occupation of the kingdom of Judea.) Kaplan adds that the three standing figures represent conflicting social groups: scribes, ordinary citizens, and royalty. The urn, he notes, is “an amulet of the heart,” which is a clear bridge to the overflowing heart depicted on the Ace of Cups in Robin Wood’s deck.

Kaplan’s meanings for card 41 are:

• Upright: unsatisfied desires, struggle, endeavors, violent strife, obstacles, dissension, failed negotiations
• Reversed: trickery, contradictions, complexity, involvement, caution against indecision

Nelise Carbonare Vieira offers a different perspective, emphasizing creative and emotional potential rather than discord. Her key phrase is: Opening space in society to reveal your gifts – Revealing your values. She follows with this quote from Iglesias Janeiro, an early 20th century Argentinian occultist: “The bows of the mighty have been broken; and those of the oppressed are filled with strength.”

Vieira sees this card as the beginning of the emotional and creative journey of the Cups, a moment when inner restlessness pushes us toward self-expression. To find our place in the world, we must step forward, express our talents, and reveal both our value and our values. We’re learning to craft roles that reflect our true selves, even as we struggle with the fear of stepping out of anonymity.

Many of us were discouraged from speaking freely in childhood, taught to suppress our feelings and ideas. We learned to hide our abilities to avoid rejection or criticism. But now, we’re beginning to recognize our gifts and feel ready to stop holding back. We want to trust our voices and be seen.

This card speaks to the courage it takes to confront self-doubt, to challenge a sense of inferiority, and to stop letting others’ disapproval define us. Though we may judge our own efforts harshly, we might be surprised, when we finally share them, to be met with appreciation and encouragement.

In focusing on Vieira’s interpretation, I have strayed from the card’s title, Dissension, and Kaplan’s keywords. However, I can discern a subtle alignment between Vieira's ideas and the title of the card. Inner restlessness is a kind of dissension, a clash between our hidden potential and the silence we’ve accepted. That tension can mark the beginning of transformation. It’s this discomfort that prompts us to create, to speak, to assert who we really are. Repressed emotions begin to rise. Dissension, in this case, may start within, but it doesn’t necessarily end in external conflict.

In conclusion, this card suggests a new beginning, as all Aces do, but a beginning not born of peace and harmony—as the Ace of Cups might suggest—but of friction. It is a call to break with submission and passivity, to challenge the roles we’ve accepted, and to step forward with our true gifts and convictions. Dissension, in this context, isn’t just conflict; it is the courage to disrupt the silence.

Perhaps this card suggests that healing begins with a rupture; the heart must break open before it can flow outward. To express what lives within us calls for courage, surrender, and faith. Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk taught, “The only whole heart is a broken one.” Dissension within may mark not chaos, but the stirring of the soul, a holy disturbance that creates space for revelation and for the emergence of our hidden gifts.

Tarot Thunderdome: Now Accepting PayPal and Miracles

💃✨ ¡La Batalla de las Brujas Comienza! ✨💃

En una esquina: Señora Fátima, reina de los amarres y limpias,
con más velas que un altar en Semana Santa.
En la otra: Hannah Berg, profetisa bilingüe (Inglés y Pig Latin),
tarotista certificada por el universo, y leyenda local del desierto.

🔮 ¿Quién revelará tu destino con más estilo?
🔮 ¿Quién te dará visión espiritual y cambio para el café?

🔥 Fátima dice: ¡Paga cuando veas resultados!
💸 Hannah dice: שלמו רק כשתתחילו לראות ניסים
(¡Paga solo cuando veas milagros!)

📣 ¡Elige a tu vidente!
📣 ¡Comparte con tus amistades!
📣 ¡Y que empiecen los juegos místicos! 🧿🔔

#BatallaDeTarot #SeñoraFátimaVsHannah #TarotConSabor #LuchaEsotérica #TeamHannah

אין לי שום רצון להתחרות בכישורים של סניורה פאטימה. היא עוד תוריד לי כאפה

A Foundation I Didn’t Know I Was Building

I pulled two cards the other day, asking what I most needed to know right now. They seemed to contradict each other. The first was Desolation. The second, The Star.

At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of that pairing, but then I realized it perfectly mirrors the threshold I’m crossing.

Card 35, Desolation, may reflect my recognition that it was time to leave Israel. I had the chance to go a few years ago, but the thought of giving up on making a life there made me cry. I stayed. I struggled. I nearly didn’t make it through. After surviving a "dark night of the soul," I managed to pull myself together, but eventually, the signs became too clear to ignore. It was time to go.

Now I’ve been back in the United States for ten days. Despite the difficulties I anticipate lie ahead of me, I feel something stirring again, something I didn’t expect to find so soon: hope. That soft flame links directly to the second card I pulled, card 17, The Star. I sense that I’ve come back stronger, with a clearer view of the world. I’m more confident than I used to be. Less afraid of people. Less afraid of life.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira connects Desolation with the Rider-Waite-Smith Nine of Wands, a figure who’s survived battles and still stands strong. My own keywords for the Nine of Wands are: stamina, prepared, firmly established, knowing whom to trust. That rings true. I’ve landed in a place where people care about me and have already done so much to help me begin again.

My keywords for The Star are gentler: hope, gratitude, clarity, grace, finding joy in the present, healing, inspiration, guiding others. It’s astonishing that hope is still part of my vocabulary, but it is.

Visually, the card Desolation shows a woman mourning. Her blue and white dress and bowed posture mirror the figure in card 67, Veneration. She covers her eyes with one hand while reaching forward with the other. Kaplan says she is mourning the death of her husband. In the upper part of the cartouche are the hieroglyph for “gate” and the Hebrew letter peh (פ). Saturn, the planet of boundaries and discipline, marks the title field. Below is the Eye of Horus, symbol of protection, vision, and renewal.

The gate may symbolize a threshold between what was and what could be. The letter peh, meaning “mouth,” suggests speaking one's truth after recognizing it through silence and sorrow. And Saturn, the planet of time, limits, and maturity, indicates growth through discipline and endurance.

The lower part of the cartouche shows the Eye of Horus, symbol of protection, vision, and renewal.

The Star includes some of the same symbols: the gate, peh, and Saturn. But the feeling is entirely different. The woman in this image is naked, kneeling on calm waters. Her black wig echoes the mourning figure in Desolation, but her posture is more open; she is vulnerable, yet grounded. (For me, water is grounding. Even sitting beside a quiet swimming pool can calm my emotions and clear my thoughts. Life began in water—being near it returns us to our source.) She pours water from two small vessels into the pool beneath her. Behind her, the waters are rough; before her, they are still.

In 17 The Star, the gate hieroglyph does not suggeste grief, but possibility. Peh becomes not the silence of sorrow but the beginning of authentic speech. And Saturn is not just a burden, but a guide, marking the slow, steady path of hope earned through experience.

An eight-pointed star glows above, perhaps Sirius, whose heliacal rising signaled the flooding of the Nile and the renewal of life. In the lower cartouche, a diamond half-yellow and half-black evokes harmony, wholeness, and the balance of opposites—like Yin and Yang or the Star of David.

Both women suggest ritual. Both suggest devotion. But one mourns what has passed, while the other opens herself to what may come.

In Kaplan’s brief descriptions, the contrast sharpens:

• Desolation: ruin, pain, sadness, mental anguish, disappointment, sorrow.
• The Star: hope, faith, inspiration, insight, bright prospects, fulfillment, and the balance of hope with effort.

Together, these two cards seem to say: one way of life is ending, and a gate is opening to the unfolding of something new.

Being back in the U.S., I find myself in a familiar environment where I speak the language, understand the social cues, and don’t have to constantly prove that I belong. That competence alone has given me a quiet confidence I haven’t felt in many years.

I once thought that leaving Israel would make me want to become more observant again-- that, like many Jews in the diaspora, I would feel the need to cling more tightly to ritual and practice in order to stay connected. But that hasn’t happened. Perhaps it’s because something in me has changed. I no longer feel that need because I’ve already absorbed an Israeli sense of what it means to be Jewish, something lived, something internal, something not measured by observance alone. It’s as though I’ve carried the Land with me, and now I’m learning how to stand on that foundation in a new way.

I hadn’t realized I was building a foundation during those difficult years, but somehow, I was. And now it remains steady beneath my feet. I left the Land, but I didn’t leave behind what I learned there.

I don’t need to return to strict observance to feel connected. My Jewishness a deeper part of me now, the people, the rhythm, the struggle to stay human in a harsh world. And something else, too: faith.

Not always religious, but real. 

Since October 7, I’ve seen secular Israelis carry themselves and each other with quiet spiritual courage, a trust in life, in God, in community, and in the meaning of what they endure. That kind of faith has left its mark on me.

It’s what gives shape to my voice now. Like the Hebrew letter peh, I’m learning to speak again, not just with words, but with the way I live, love, and return to myself.

This isn’t exile. It’s integration.

What the Seven of Swords Really Means

Most people see a sneaky thief. I see a smart tactician.

In Pamela Colman Smith’s image, the Seven of Swords shows a performer dancing across a stage while holding the blades of five swords  with the backdrop of an armed camp, On the stage's backdrop, two more swords stand upright in the ground in front of a row of colorful tents; a group of soldiers is gathered around a smoking campfire. The man's self-satisfied smile is striking. For many readers, this card screams deception: theft, betrayal, lies, cowardice. It’s often seen as the card of someone cheating to get ahead.

But what look again. What more does it mean?

This man could be disarming a dangerous enemy that threatens a community. He’s taking the weapons that might be used against them and leaving quietly before anyone notices. There’s no bloodshed, no confrontation, just good strategy. His mission is risky. He holds the blades with his bare hands and risks hurting himself. He isn't unethical; he hasn't left them defenseless. The two swords he has left behind are a message: We were here. We are a dangerous adversary. Think twice before tangling with us.

Key Words (Light Side):

• Disarming the enemy
• Stealth
• Clever plan
• Reclaiming what was stolen
• Strategy
• Hidden motives

Key Words (Shadow Side):

• Betrayal of self
• Self-deception
• Isolation
• Avoiding confrontation
• Impulsiveness
• Overconfidence

What the card really means:
This is the card of unconventional strategy and victory. Direct conflict isn't always the best way to achieve goals, in peace or in wartime. The Seven of Swords doesn’t ask us to deceive anyone; it challenges us to think clearly and outmaneuver what threatens us.

When this card appears, consider alternate ways to respond to danger. Let the enemy worry what might be next if they mess with you.

I don't believe there is a single "real" meaning for any card, but I enjoy finding new interpretations. Do you have a unique take on any of the cards? Please share your insights below! I love hearing from my readers.