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
(Perhaps I should 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
(The title needs room for positive interpretation, perhaps 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 it 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 the Goddess, 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.

What the Two of Pentacles Really Means

It’s Not About Balance—It’s About Avoidance

Most contemporary writers interpret the Two of Pentacles as a sign of balance, adaptability, grace under pressure, and the ability to juggle life’s many demands. It’s often seen as a card that applauds your flexibility and suggests you can handle whatever life throws your way. This leads some readers to say: Don't worry, you've got this.

But what else could it mean?

In the Rider-Waite-Smith deck, a playful figure dances while juggling two pentacles inside a lemniscate. Two ships sail smoothly and safely over incredibly high waves of a rough sea.

From that perspective, the card becomes a kind of “don’t worry, you’ve got this” message.

Take a closer look at the figure's garments. He wears a bright red hat that’s not quite a dunce cap, but certainly reminiscent of one. His clothing is oddly theatrical, almost like part of a costume. Some readers have suggested he’s standing on a stage, playing a role.

The lemniscate also appears above the head of The Magician—a figure associated with both making dreams come true and with deception.

The card may suggest a period of multitasking where everything is still under control. However, you should ask if he is really in control, or simply trying to look like he is. This fool's performance may be his way of ignoring a precarious situation, or even trying to deceive others into thinking he’s more balanced than he really is.

Before we go further, here are the keywords I associate with this card:

Keywords (Light Side)

• Adaptability
• Grace under pressure
• Flexibility in fluctuating circumstances
• Multitasking
• Managing demands
• Finding harmony or your divine path
• Trying to make dreams come true

Keywords (Shadow Side)

• Disorganization
• Unclear goals
• Trying to balance too many things
• Delaying decisions
  
• Chaos
• Poor time management
• Splitting your energy
  

These light side keywords reflect the best-case scenario: someone who stays "nimble and quick" under pressure and navigates competing demands with flexibility and poise. Dedication and adaptability can help you achieve your goals, but you must know what your goals are.

In my experience, the Two of Pentacles often appears when balancing act is already faltering. You’re walking a tightrope, and it’s beginning to sway. One misstep, and everything could fall.

This is the card of conflicting goals and lack of commitment to a clear goal. It often shows up when someone is trying to serve two masters or maintain appearances while everything is unraveling beneath the surface.

It says: You’re not really choosing.

Even upright, the card can suggest that things aren't working particularly well. If you don’t make a firm commitment soon, everything could fall apart. Reversed, the danger becomes obvious: chaos, confusion, failure, and burnout.

What the card really means:

The Two of Pentacles often appears not because someone is skillfully balancing, but because they’re avoiding a difficult decision.

This card isn’t just about doing too much; it’s about refusing to let something go. You might be clinging to two different goals or two versions of yourself, while quietly hoping that someone else will come along and reveal your divinely ordained direction. But not all dreams are meant to be pursued at the same time. Some must be sacrificed so that others can flourish. And no one else—not your partner, not your mentor, not your tarot reader—can pinpoint your path for you.

That’s why I read this card as a wake-up call: Stop performing. Start choosing.

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.

The Road Given: A Reflection on the Knight of Pentacles

One of my favorite blogs is Leaf and Twig. The artist recently posted a photograph of a broad, snow-covered path through sparse woods, accompanied by a caption that struck me deeply:

the road given
is the road
that must be traveled

This short poem suggests that the path we're on, however dull, unpleasant, painful, or unexpected, is the one we must walk. There are a number of ways of looking at it:

Simple fact - we can address what is before us or curl up and do nothing
Initiation - some experiences are unavoidable and essential for growth
Surrender and trust - we didn’t choose the path, accepting it will be healing
Destiny or karma - what has been handed to us isn’t random
Radical acceptance - there is no point in wishing we could be elsewhere

There’s ambiguity in the word “must.” Is it a burden to endure or a sacred duty to embrace? Either way, the message is clear: stop wishing for another life and step fully into this one. The road before you is the one you're responsible for.

I'd like to remember this poem and bring its message into my tarot practice. What cards might reflect this vision of walking the road given?

Cards that reflect avoidance or escapism:

The Moon - illusion, confusion, refusing to see what’s real
the Seven of Cups - fantasy, imagining alternates instead of inhabiting your life
the Queen of Cups - not seeing reality, daydreaming instead of acting

Cards that suggest reluctant acceptance:

The Hanged Man - stuck or suspended, forced to see life from a new angle
the Five of Cups - grief, focusing on loss, failing to value what remains
the Queen of Pentacles - accepting limitations for now, giving more than you receive

Cards that show determination to walk the path:

The Fool - the journey of life, stepping into the unknown, the road opening ahead
The Hermit - walking with wisdom, seeking truth, becoming a guide to others
The Chariot - focused, resolved, determined to continue despite obstacles
the Eight of Cups - courage to step into the unknown
the Ten of Wands - the burden of responsibility, but also commitment to completing the task

And the card that may be most aligned with the poem:

The Knight of Pentacles - steady, grounded, and quietly resolute. Unlike the archetypal hero of The Chariot, he’s an ordinary person: a farmer who earns his living from the earth. Armored not for war but for labor, he surveys his fields and plans his work. He has already begun turning the soil, relying on the weather and the seasons to contribute to the harvest. His path may not be glamorous, but he is faithful. And through that faithfulness he gives shape and meaning to his life. 

 
The cards above are from The Robin Wood Tarot, the Universal Tarot (PCS), and the Oneness Tarot.

(And since I'm posting about my favorite 'blog, here is a link to an episode from my favorite YouTube channel: Jen That Good News Girl.)

What the Nine of Cups Really Means

It’s not a satisfied man with his arms crossed. It’s a woman whose water just broke.

The Nine of Cups is often described as the “Wish Card” and is considered a symbol of comfort, contentment, satisfaction, and wishes granted. The neatly arranged golden cups and relaxed, welcoming figure are usually read as positive signs. But one day, I pulled this card and didn’t see the smiling man at all.

Instead, I saw a woman in labor. The cups had spilled. Her water had broken. Something was about to be born and the moment filled with jubilation.

At the time, I was visiting a new town, trying to decide if I should move there. The Nine of Cups told me: Yes, this is your place. The next stage of your life will begin here.

And it did.

That’s when I realized another meaning of this card: it’s not the wealth and satisfaction at the end of a journey and the achievement of goals. It’s the breath right before birth. The water pouring out before the first cry of your baby. It is a release that signals something real is coming.

Keywords (Light Side)

• Feeling of plenty
• Hospitality
• Wishes granted
• Emotional fulfillment
• Gratitude
• Generosity
• Sensual pleasure
• Water breaking before labor

Keywords (Shadow Side)

• Dissatisfaction
• Indulgence
• Greed
• Hidden emptiness
• Over-sated
• Opulence
• Moral decay
• Emotional imbalance
• Need to give up material things in favor of a spiritual quest

What the Nine of Cups really means:

This card invites you to prepare for something new to be born. You may achieve your wish, but listen to your heart to know what you are hoping to birth.

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!

A Rhyme for Returning Home

When I’m back in the U.S., I’ll need to keep my goals in mind and my spirits up. I recently read Sunrise on the Reaping the moment it came out, and one character had composed a sing-song rhyme to remind herself how to stay alive. It stuck with me. With a friend’s help, I adapted it into my own mantra.

It’s based on my personal “to-do list” for this next chapter, but shorter and recitable, to help me stay cheerfully on track:

Work and save, spend with care,
Eat good food, breathe fresh air.

Find a job, give it heart,
Learn and grow, make a start.

Meet good folks, take my place,
Balance joy with logic’s grace.

Step outside, explore, be free—
Build my life and just be me.
My "to do" list for life back in the States:

• Make money and save money
• Spend money on health (gym, healthy food, and supplements)
• Get a job, buy a car, rent/buy a home
• Engage in work enthusiastically
• Study something (on my own or in a free class)
• Make friends and find a community
• Do it today so you can do something else tomorrow
• Momentum and responsibility
• Visualize a bright shining future
• Listen to Captain Logic as often as I listen to Captain Fun (carefully chose a few YouTube videos and fill most of my free time with healthy positive things)
• Go outside and visit cool new places

(At first, I struggled to memorize my rhyme, but a friend suggested setting it to music. Turns out, it flows perfectly to the familiar simple tune of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.)

Announcing My YouTube Channel: Mindful Migration

I recently launched a YouTube channel called Mindful Migration, where I’ll be sharing reflections on my return to the U.S. after eight years overseas. This new creative outlet is a way for me to stay positive and proactive as I begin again—seeking stability, growing with intention, and building a better life.

I hope it also offers something meaningful to others. If you're rebuilding from scratch or searching for inspiration to face life’s changes with courage and clarity, I invite you to join me on this journey.

Visit Mindful Migration on YouTube.

Kids are being robbed: they don't learn cursive handwriting OR Touch Typing!

I assume I’ll eventually figure out what Apple has done to its cursor pad… right now, it has me cursing quite a bit.

However, I am deeply disappointed that Apple no longer designs keyboards with adult human beings in mind. Instead, they seem to be catering to the exclusive needs of two-finger typists who thrive on inefficiency and chaos.

For instance, instead of a left shift key where it belongs, there’s a renegade apostrophe key (`) loitering there. If I actually want to capitalize something, I have to look down, relocate my entire hand, and then press shift as if it’s some kind of side quest.

The return key? Oh, don’t worry, that’s been thoughtfully replaced with a reverse slash (\) because obviously, what I really needed in my life was more accidental backslashes. To hit the actual return key, I have to look down (again), rehome my hand, and make a minor pilgrimage across the keyboard.

`i `hope That If `i `keep Practising, I Will Learn To Find The Shift `key Without Looking.

But\\
the
\return
key
is
too
far
away
to\
reach\
without moving my hand and looking at the keyboard

And surely I will find a way to switch from British spell-check to 'Murican soon! 

NOTE: For a while, it appeared that Apple had done away with click-and-drag; but that function can be restored in the System Settings -> Trackpad -> Force Click and Haptic Feedback

Farewell

We picked Maya up at her home in Bat Yam, where I met her daughter—an angel who smiled radiantly and hugged me. After I shook her tiny soft hand, I wanted to sweep her up and squeeze her tightly, but I settled for taking pictures while she fed a stray cat.

Later, as we sat together at a restaurant on a beautiful day by the sea, Maya hugged me. She didn’t let go for a long time. When we finally pulled apart, she held my hand tightly. I always expect to be shoved away if I reach out, so I didn't know what to do-except not let go.

She gave me a necklace of amber stones and round orange beads, a gift that will always remind me of the balloons held by people lining the streets and freeways in Israel on the day of the Bibas family funeral.

The next morning, Maya and I met again. After coffee, we stood by the Mediterranean, watching the myna birds, the rolling crests of the small waves, the hopeful surfers and fishermen. For once, I could discern and voice my feelings: “I’m happy to be leaving, but I want to cry.” It wasn’t regret. Looking back, maybe it was nostalgia for my time in Israel—or gratitude for her friendship. I had always believed she cared less for me than I do for her.

We hugged a few more times as we said our farewells and walked along the tayelet, the sea breeze tousling our loose hair. By her car, we embraced once more. As we began to move apart, she grasped both my hands and said, “I love you.”

I dared to say it back, but in a whisper. Something so precious is too fragile to say aloud. But because it is so rare, you must acknowledge it and hold it close when it briefly brushes your life.

Reflections on Parashat Terumah: Making Space for God and Hope

Each year, when I read Parashat Terumah, I struggle to visualize the details of the Mishkan, the tabernacle we were instructed to build in the wilderness. This year, the meticulous descriptions of gold clasps, acacia wood, and embroidered curtains left me bored. But as I sat with the text, three other thoughts emerged.

1. Creation and the Tabernacle

Commentators often compare the construction of the Mishkan to the creation of the world. This year, I finally compared the two texts myself. The contrast is striking: God’s creation of the world is described in one parasha. The instructions for building the Mishkan span many chapters. Why does it take so much effort for us to make space for God, when it took much less for God to make space for us?

Perhaps the answer lies in love. God’s creation of the world was effortless; but our building of sacred space requires effort, generosity, and precision. Parashat Terumah tells us that donations for the Mishkan should come from the heart. Maybe that is the dwelling place that God desires, not a physical structure, but the space we conscientiously carve out in ourselves through effort and intention. It may even be that the labor itself makes room in our hearts

2. The Curtain Between the Holy and the Most Holy

The Mishkan is a place of order and separation, much like the laws of kashrut or Shabbat, which divide the sacred from the profane. But the Mishkan doesn’t just divide between holy and secular; it distinguishes between holy and most holy. The innermost chamber, the Holy of Holies, is concealed behind a curtain, as the summit of Har Sinai was hidden by cloud. Holiness is not a simple binary. We might want the world to be black and white, but reality is multi-layered and complex and worthy of contemplation.

3. Hope in the Midst of Darkness

The most powerful idea in this parasha for me this year comes from a legend that the wood used to build the Mishkan came from trees that Jacob had brought to Egypt generations earlier. Over the generations, those trees stood as a silent promise. Whenever the enslaved Israelites looked at them, they felt hope that redemption would come.

Not the most compelling of Jewish legends, but it made me reflect, as I often have the last few weeks, on the hope and resilience shown by the recently released hostages who, despite the horrors of their captivity and the grief that awaited them at home, have still found a way to lift up and display their hope for all of us to see. Each and every one of them has been a radiant exemplar of the best quality of Israelis: resilience.

At the funeral of his wife and two children, for whom he had sacrificed himself, only to learn they had perished while he was in captivity, Yarden Bibas said, “Shiri, guard me so I don’t sink into darkness.” He still sees light! He still has hope. I don't know how that is possible.

An Australian news station desribed the day of the funeral as a dark day for Israel. And yet, for the first time in months, I saw light— not because of my own worldview, but because Yarden Bibas, of all people, could still find words of hope.

The Israelites carried Jacob’s trees with them into the wilderness, using them to build the Mishkan. Perhaps we, too, carry some unseen reserve of strength and resilience that allows us to build light even in the darkest places.

Dream Doorway

Last night, I dreamed I was standing in a threshold—stuck there. My feet wouldn’t move and I was unable to step forward. When I woke up, the feeling lingered.

I’ve thought about leaving Israel countless times, even come close, yet here I am still here. Still hovering in that in-between space. The dream felt like a message, but I needed more clarity. So I turned to my tarot deck.

I drew the Five of Cups reversed, Eight of Pentacles reversed, and the Tower reversed.

Even before analyzing the cards, I could see how they mirrored my situation. Dreaming of being stuck in a doorway captures everything: neither fully in nor out, caught in the space between staying and leaving.

The Cards:

Five of Cups Reversed – This card is about moving past grief, regret, or disappointment. Maybe I am letting go of something—past hopes, past pain, past beliefs about what living here was supposed to be? But if I’ve begun to let go, why am I not moving forward?

Eight of Pentacles Reversed – Stagnation. Lack of progress. Fear. I recognize that I haven't and may never integrate into Israeli life, and yet I can't commit to giving up either. Am I holding myself back because I doubt my ability to start over somewhere new?

The Tower Reversed – Resistance to change. Trying to avoid upheaval. The Tower reversed doesn’t bring sudden devastation but rather a slow, creeping realization that a change must happen. I’ve known for a long time that my values and preferences don’t fully align with Israeli society, and it has become clear that my current life here isn’t sustainable. But knowing isn’t the same as acting. And acting means accepting that there’s no going back!

The Message

I’m ready to move on, but fear is causing me to hesitate. Fear of upheaval. Fear of failure. Fear of letting go of the place that has shaped me.

But the dream and the reading both make something clear: I am still standing in the doorwayand if I don’t step forward, I will remain stuck between two worlds, belonging to neither. It’s time to decide.

The Abortion Debate

My mother, who was born in 1925, always emphasized that abortion was a woman's most important right. Growing up, I accepted this belief without question. My confidence in this “right” shifted during paralegal school when I decided to read Roe v. Wade. I was shocked by the poor legal reasoning of the decision and realized it was only a matter of time before it would be overturned.

The recent overturning of Roe and the ensuing debate have prompted me to examine the issue more deeply.

Before the advent of modern medicine and contraceptives, women often valued chastity before marriage not because of societal or patriarchal control but out of necessity. Childbirth was dangerous, sometimes fatal, and unmarried women who died in childbirth left no one to care for their children. This grim reality profoundly shaped women’s behavior and choices. When a woman did survive childbirth, she needed a partner to raise her children.

Before the judicial legalization of abortion, even married women sometimes risked their lives to obtain abortions in unsanitary and unsafe conditions. The issue has never been a simple debate between "life" and "choice." It’s a deeply complex matter of survival, autonomy, supporting existing children, and moral gray areas.

The necessity for unsafe, illegal abortions diminished with the introduction of reliable contraceptives. Contraceptives transformed society, giving women control over when they gave birth and enabling them to shape their economic futures-- and also enabling families to acquire more wealth. This empowerment significantly contributed to equality of the sexes. (It had other, less fortunate consequences that are less black and white, but I won't address those now.)

Yet many who identify as "pro-life" also oppose contraceptives, creating a contradiction in their stance. If the goal is to reduce abortions, accessible contraception should be a shared priority. Limiting access to contraceptives undermines the very foundation of women’s autonomy and progress.

I’ve never thought the pro-life side was entirely pro-life, as many within the movement don't support childcare and also oppose contraceptives. Today, I don’t believe the pro-choice side is entirely pro-choice either! I’ve become disillusioned by the radicalism of some pro-choice rhetoric.

A few years ago, there was a campaign to “advertise your abortion.” The intention was to reduce stigma and normalize abortion by encouraging women to share their stories openly. While presumably well-intended, it seemed counterproductive. Abortion is a deeply personal and often painful decision. Making it public may increase awareness of the number of women who have abortions, but I hardly think it will foster acceptance of those choices.

I had a friend in college who realized she was pregnant (apparently, morning sickness starts right away) and decided, seemingly without hesitation, to have an abortion. Nonetheless, she kept her decision private, reflecting what many women felt then: abortion should be safe, legal, and private.

More recently, I’ve seen statements from trans women in which they express the aspiration to have abortions as a validation of their womanhood. Vocalizing this aspiration often alienates people from the pro-choice argument. Most people, male and female don't believe that abortion should be a goal, and for most women, motherhood is a goal.

It’s hard to argue that a newly formed embryo is not a life. At the same time, it's just as hard to argue that a woman must carry and give birth to that life. This is where some of the tension lies: balancing the value of life with the value of a woman's wisdom.

I don’t believe there are simple answers to this debate. Both extremes— opposing abortion entirely and glorifying it— fail to address the complexity of the issue.

The abortion debate isn’t just about life or choice; it’s also about autonomy, family values, and the profound human questions that arise when these values conflict. To move forward, we must approach the issue with empathy and nuance, rejecting the extremes that dominate the discourse. For me, and I suspect, for many others, the ideal is for abortion to remain "legal, safe, and rare," limited to the first trimester except in cases of medical necessity.