The Road Given: A Reflection on the Knight of Pentacles

One of my favorite blogs is Leaf a 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 are meant to walk. It evokes themes such as:

• Destiny or karmic path - what’s been handed to us isn’t random
• Radical acceptance - we must walk the road we’re on, not the one we wish we could be on
• Initiation - some experiences are unavoidable and essential for growth
• Surrender and trust - we didn’t choose the path, but it’s the only one before us now

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 clarity 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 alternate lives instead of inhabiting your own
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, struggling to accept what remains
the Queen of Pentacles - accepting limitations for now, giving more than we 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 on path, resolve, determination to stay on the path 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 it 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” in tarot readings—a symbol of comfort, contentment, satisfaction, and wishes granted. With its neatly arranged golden cups and relaxed, welcoming figure, it’s usually read as a positive sign. But one day, I pulled this card and didn’t see the man at all.

Instead, I saw a woman in labor. The cups had spilled. The water had broken. Something was about to be born.

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 the deeper meaning of this card: it’s not the end of a journey and the achievement of goals. It’s the breath right before birth. The water before the first cry. The emotional release that signals something real is coming.

Keywords (Light Side)

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

Keywords (Shadow Side)

• Dissatisfaction
• Indulgence
• Hidden emptiness
• Emotional imbalance
• Need for emotional counseling

What the Nine of Cups really means: Wishes may be granted—but not always in the form you expect. This card invites you to prepare for something new to be born. Emotional release often comes just before transformation.

Whether you're learning tarot or deepening your practice, I invite you to look past the surface of the Nine of Cups and listen for what’s trying to be born.

Crossing the Threshold

I feel some hesitation as I prepare to commit to returning to the United States. I worry that the level of antisemitism I may encounter could be physically harmful—or at the very least, obstruct my progress. I'm also concerned that my lack of self-confidence might prevent me from securing well-paid employment. And I worry what I’m leaving behind, especially access to medical care.

So I’ve turned to my tarot deck and asked:

What insight can the tarot offer as I prepare to return to the U.S., especially regarding safety, confidence, and livelihood?

The Current Situation – What’s pushing or calling me to move?

Two of Wands
This card shows a figure holding a globe and gazing out over a wide landscape, contemplating the possibilities beyond his current life. I’m in that very moment—poised between the familiar and the unknown, weighing my choices. There’s a sense of longing, a push toward growth, but also uncertainty. The card affirms that I’m standing at the threshold, asking myself: What lies beyond?

The Main Challenge – What’s the core fear or obstacle I must confront?

The Hierophant
My greatest challenge may lie in navigating institutions, systems, and societal expectations. I fear being judged, excluded, or obstructed—particularly by antisemitism or employment hurdles. This card also reflects my inner struggle between tradition and autonomy: I want to stay true to myself and honor the tradition I love, but I’m unsure whether the U.S. will make space for that. I worry there may be no institutions to support me—or worse, some that actively resist who I am.

Hidden Strength – What support do I have that I may not recognize?

Ace of Wands
This card represents creative fire, courage, and the spark of inspiration. Even when my confidence wavers, the potential for inspired action is alive within me. I may underestimate my own energy, originality, or spiritual will—but it’s there. This card reminds me that I carry the fire to begin again. This isn’t just a relocation; it’s a path of spiritual renewal.

Advice or Action – How can I prepare myself to meet this transition well?

Temperance
A card of healing, balance, and integration. I have miles to go, but this is not a race—progress will come through patience and care. I must temper my fears with hope, and my grief with trust. Temperance advises practical planning, inner harmony, and slow unfolding. It calls me to blend body and soul, courage and caution, grief and readiness. My way forward is mindful, not rushed.

Likely Outcome – What direction is the energy flowing as I step forward?

The Hermit
This card speaks of solitude and spiritual depth. The road ahead may be lonely at times, but it offers the chance to gain clarity, inner strength, and wisdom. The Hermit walks a path of truth and self-discovery, and in doing so, becomes a guide to others. Though the journey won’t be easy, it can be deeply meaningful—and transformative.

Summary

This reading points to a thoughtful, spiritual transition. It doesn’t promise comfort or certainty—but it assures me that I already hold what I need: the vision (Two of Wands), the fire (Ace of Wands), the guidance (Temperance), and the wisdom (Hermit).

The core challenge lies in navigating systems (Hierophant) that may not always welcome me. But even so, I have the inner light to carry me through.

A Rhyme for Returning Home

I purchased Sunrise on the Reaping the moment it became available and managed to make it last three days. I think it's Suzanne Collins’s best book in the series.

From that book, I've stolen Wiress’s rhyme and adapted it (with a little help) for my own purposes:

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.

It's based on my "to do" list for life back in the USA:

• Make money and save money
• Spend money on health (gym, healthy food, and supplements)
• Get a job, buy a car, rent a cheap 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

I had trouble memorizing the rhyme, but a friend suggested I put it to music. I've found it flows well to the 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

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 doorway—stuck there. My feet wouldn’t move. The space beyond the door was open, but I hesitated, 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. A threshold not crossed.

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 release the past, why haven’t I moved forward?

Eight of Pentacles Reversed – Stagnation. Lack of progress. Fear. The card suggests that I haven’t put in the work needed to truly integrate into Israeli life, and I haven’t fully committed to leaving either. It asks a hard question: Am I holding myself back because I doubt my ability to start over somewhere new?

The Tower Reversed – Resistance to change. Avoiding upheaval. The Tower reversed doesn’t bring a sudden explosion of destruction but rather a slow, creeping realization that a shift must happen. I’ve known for a long time that my values don’t fully align with Israeli society, that my current life isn’t sustainable. But knowing isn’t the same as acting. And acting means accepting that there’s no going back.

The Message

I am in transition, but I haven’t committed to crossing the threshold. The Five of Cups reversed tells me I’m ready to move on, but the Eight of Pentacles reversed and Tower reversed reveal my hesitation. 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 doorway. And if I don’t step forward, I will remain stuck between two worlds, belonging fully to neither. Maybe 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 required 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.