Maya and Agatha were preparing to light their Shabbat candles. Their home was dark yet saturated with color, like the ornate panels of the Russian Tarot of St. Petersburg, burnished gold, lapis blues, and deep crimsons. Shadows gathered in the corners like soft velvet curtains, yet everything seemed to glow from within.
At first I did not recognize the sound outside. It was the Shabbat siren, but it did not sound like a warning. It rose and swelled as if neighbors in the street had begun to sing, their voices braiding into one another, welcoming the entrance of Shabbat.
Maya lit her candles first. Agatha stood slightly to one side, hidden from me at first, as if waiting for her moment. Then she approached the table and lit her own candles. Mother and daughter sang the blessing, their voices low and full, and then they looked at me with such love that it felt like a benediction.
The four flames cast halos of honeyed light on their faces. They were dressed regally, their hair piled high like crowns. Their bearing was almost priestly, their necks steady and still, but eyes pouring out joy. Then they began to dance in slow circles, as if enacting the entrance of the Shabbos bride herself, grace entering the world because of their welcoming movements.
In the second part of the dream, the house I love had not been sold after all. I discovered it was only being rented for a year by a doctor and his partner. The loss I had already accepted was not final. In a year, I could make my offer again. The possibility felt like a door quietly reopening, a future not erased but postponed.
Then I was in Eilat, visiting Jude. The sky was clear and blue. We decided we would have our girls’ night at Arlan’s place, and with affectionate conspiracy we made him find somewhere else to sleep. The dream ended not in alarm, but in laughter and belonging.
When I woke, I stepped outside. Birds were already singing, the doves carrying the main theme. The sky was obscured by gray clouds, bundles of mistletoe were visible in the bare branches, the air was just slightly cool. I sat on the porch step listening to the symphony.
A musical night, a musical morning. In a few hours I will go see EPiC, a film about Elvis. Even the day feels scored.
Although I generally dislike oracle decks, I was seduced by the imagery of The Priestess Oracle Deck. It's one of the most beautiful decks of any kind that I've ever seen.
I usually feel that Oracle decks don’t carry the weight of centuries of cultural interpretation the way tarot does. They’re usually one or two people’s private cosmology, and readers at psychic fairs inevitably end up consulting the little book instead of reading the image and working with the client.
That said, this deck is more beautiful than I had expected, and the guidebook less incoherent than I feared. I tried one of the recommended spreads. I did, however, rewrite the questions to make them more grounded.
How do I resonate with my life’s purpose?
Anubis
Anubis is a psychopomp, a guide between states. He escorts souls across thresholds. I am in a transitional phase of my life, something familiar is ending and something unexpected is beginning. I need to stop clinging to a former identity and move deliberately through change, releasing what is outdated. This may be stressful, but it is simply a crossing, closer to the Six of Swords than to catastrophe.
How do I awaken my best nature?
Emerald Tablet
The right approach is awareness and acceptance, not force. This is Ḥesed balanced by Gevurah: expansion disciplined by structure. Alignment before action.
How can I connect with the Divine more easily?
Ankh
I can connect to Source through my body. Walking. Breathing. Eating consciously. Touching the physical world. Being fully alive in Asiyah. Connection is not abstraction. It is embodiment.
What guide or aspect of the Divine is around me now?
Diamond Dimension
Clarity. This card aligns with the Father of Swords energy that has helped me revise the deck and evaluate a home purchase. What matters now is discernment and refinement. Cutting away what is unnecessary. It is a search for precision, not ecstasy.
What message does this guide have for me?
Nile
Do not grip too tightly. Trust the momentum already carrying me. Stop micromanaging outcomes. Work steadily. Receive as much as I give. Let developments unfold at a natural pace. Abundance means flow, not frenzy.
What this reading relates to in my life now:
Finalizing the deck for publication
Proofreading the pamphlet
Purchasing a condominium near the synagogue
Forming a business and filing copyrights
Writing the companion book over the next nine months
What the spread is actually saying:
I am shedding a previous identity.
I am entering a more integrated one.
I should not rush the next phase.
I must remain physically grounded.
I should allow the work to mature at its own pace rather than forcing completion.
I am at a threshold and the correct posture is steadiness.
This reading did not confirm my usual resistance to oracle decks. It is a workable and meaningful system.
However, I still prefer tarot. Tarot is a language shaped over centuries; its symbols are stable enough to argue with. Oracle decks, by contrast, often arrive interpreted, inflated with metaphysical promises and cosmic flattery.
And yet, if you strip away the exaggeration and returned to image, symbol, and lived context, this one can be a mirror. Tarot trains the reader to think. Oracle decks tempt the reader to believe. In this case, I chose to do both. Discernment and receptivity are not opposites. I filtered the deck’s language through a little common sense, allowing the symbols to speak.
If I ever felt a mysterious inner prompting to leave Judaism, where would I go?
Catholicism holds little appeal—except for the rosary! That would be the perfect meditative technique for me. It keeps the brain busy in two ways (by reciting prayers and by reflecting on moments from the life of Jesus) making it possible to reach the deeper silence beyond all the alien voices in your head. And the Church has some great women mystics. I've read Teresa of Ávila and Julian of Norwich and have listened to Hildegard of Bingen's music. I'd like to read Hadewijch and to learn everything there is to know about the Beguines.
What other religions?
Protestants study the Bible. That is appealing to me.
The one Greek Orthodox service I attended was intoxicating. The liturgy felt like a meeting of the Book of Psalms and the Greek Magical Papyri. The mind-altering incense deepened the sense that Parashat Acharei Mot was unfolding before my eyes.
"Intoxicating Incense" generated by ChatGPT
Zoroastrianism and Yezidism are ancient, mysterious, and intriguing.
Hinduism's glorious plethora of divine beings, stories, philosophies, yogas, and rituals feels less like one religion and more like a living library of spiritual possibility.
And of course, there’s Buddhism. If there is a “true religion,” it’s Buddhism. I sometimes wish it were for me. Maybe in some future, more evolved lifetime.
I’m not looking for a new religion. I have an all-encompassing religion, one I can practice in my kitchen, in a study hall, during evening minyan, in the women’s section at the Kotel, on Shabbat, or at work.
To call Judaism a religion misses everything. Judaism is more than a faith. It is an indigenous people cleaving to their heritage. It is culture, memory, and the refusal to forget. It is scholars in conversation with other generations of scholars. It is every new drash on a parasha we’ve read once a year for thousands of years. It is lived experience preserved and examined, because we don’t assimilate and forget. It is realism, not idealism, because our founding myth is slavery, not paradise. That’s why worldly suffering never surprises us. We don’t expect the world to be just. But we strive to make it just.
If some mysterious inner prompting ever nudged me away, I would listen. But eventually I would return home.
Whatever path I walk, I hope to travel it with open eyes and a grounded heart.
Hekate dances before a tree too immense to fully see.
I place three candles on the earth and light them.
I light these flames at the roots of the world tree.
Flame of the crossroads. Flame of the soul. Flame of the future.
Hekate Enodia, Hekate Phosphoros, Hekate Trimorphis.
Help me understand these messages.
I place The Hermit card (reversed) before the white candle and invoke Hekate:
Enodia, show me where I resist stillness.
Help me hear the wisdom that lives beneath the silence.
I place the Two of Cups (reversed) before the red candle and invoke Hekate:
Aglaos and Vrimo, illuminate the wounds I must heal.
Why is love withheld? How may I open to connection again?
I place the Knight of Pentacles before the black candle and invoke Hekate:
Psychi Kosmou and Hthonia, show me the gate that opens.
How shall I plant and nourish the seeds of growth?
I place a pomegranate, a key, and an offering cup near the candles.
I place the Four of Swords before the pomegranate and invoke Hekate:
Fruit of the Underworld, sealed and sweet,
I will not force the path.
Let the hidden potential ripen in silence.
Let me lay down the sword and welcome sacred rest.
I place The Magician card before the key and invoke Hekate:
Hekate Klidouchos, Keeper of Keys,
May I find what I need.
Teach me to use what I already carry.
Let will and wisdom meet.
I place the King of Pentacles before the offering cup and invoke Hekate:
I return the gifts that once helped me.
Help me release control.
Let my spirit grow where fear once ruled.
I inscribe a circle on the ground.
I place the Ten of Pentacles within the circle and invoke Hekate:
Show me what will take root.
What vision is ready to come into form?
I place the Death card within the circle and invoke Hekate:
Hekate of Many Faces,
Show me who I must become.
Guide me through the shedding.
Let the old self die with grace.
I await a vision...
I kindle fire in the cauldron and pour water into the basin.
I pass the Two of Wands (reversed) through the flames of the cauldron and invoke Hekate:
Cauldron of transformation,
Receive what I must release.
Hekate, help me name what is false and what I fear,
and give me strength to cast them into the flame.
I pour water from the basin over the Five of Pentacles (reversed) and invoke Hekate:
Water of life, water of mercy.
Hekate, show me what must be cleansed.
Let this basin carry away sorrow, shame, and isolation.
Let resilience and grace take their place.
I pour water on my hands and splash my face. Then I offer thanks to Hekate:
The flame returns to the root.
The path returns to silence.
The goddess remains.
May what was seen unfold in time.
Hail and farewell, Hekate,
Light-bringer, Key-holder, Guide through shadow.
Postscript
When I performed this rite, the visualization came quickly and vividly. I saw Hekate dancing before the World Tree which, in the darkness, was vast beyond sight. I recited Hekate's mantra and felt the damp earth and warm air around me. The candles flickered over each card. The pomegranate, key, and cup were real. I inscribed the circle with white chalk and felt Hekate communing with me.
When I laid down the Death card, I asked what part of me must die so I can live more fully. But then I noticed: The Ten of Pentacles had come first. Perhaps transformation isn't a prerequisite for change; perhaps change will begin to take root before I fully understand who I must become.
The Five of Pentacles, washed in water, offered hope. I saw the possibility of returning to a place of light, of finding a new home, within myself or elsewhere.
I gazed at The Two of Cups, its candle still burning brightly even though it had became shorter, and I asked Hekate to help me find love and connection and to heal whatever has kept me distant from others.
Something shifted. I felt a quiet turning and heard the beginning of something. Now I wait in stillness to understand the rest.
This morning, I began the year by performing a tarot reading using Arith Harger’s
The Altar of Hekate - Rune Divination Method, a spread that invites reflection, transformation, and the wisdom of the liminal goddess. The cards are read in ten sacred positions, each one symbolically tethered to phases of ritual work at an altar.
Opening the Crossroads
Card 1 - White candle, new moon, our inner temple. Asking Enodia for advice and wisdom regarding the next cycle.
The Hermit reversed suggests that I'm resisting stillness and failing to listen to my inner guidance, that I'm not embracing the isolation and silence I currently need. I'm seeking sensible action and external answers when I should be seeking higher wisdom.
Card 2 - Red candle, red moon, the sacred flames of Aglaos and Vrimo. Illuminating the path to regeneration and helping defend against blocks to your potential.
The Two of Cups reversed suggests that I've never really accepted that no one will ever love me back. I'm not seeking romantic love, but the love with those around me who make up the fabric and melody of a meaningful life. I've never figured out what makes me so vile and unlovable. I've just had to accept that only a few people care and that the love I give is what I should focus on. This absence of connection must be healed in some way.
Card 3 - Black candle, dark moon. Purification of home and self before transition to next cycle; Psychi Kosmou and Hthonia reveal which gate will open for you.
The Knight of Pentacles indicates responsibility and duty, and the satisfaction of being responsible and dutiful. These qualities reflect who I am, but the other cards suggest I may need to redirect my energies. It may indicate continuing with my current situation, but tending it differently so sprouts of new life may begin to cover that ploughed field. I dreamed of a home last night and the night before. It may be time to nest and make a home in which I can grow.
Descent to the Inner Temple
Card 4 - Pomegranate of Hthonia to find yourself. Revealing the hidden fruit of the Underworld, your potential; don’t force yourself onto a path you’re not suited for.
The Four of Swords suggests that my potential can't be found through action now. I must lay down the sword and accept this period of dormancy. The pomegranate, symbol of the underworld, and this card ask me to be still, rest, and let the fruit ripen in silence.
Card 5 - Keys of Kliduchos. Revealing the keys to your soul, your journey, your hidden potential.
The Magician suggests I have access to all the keys and tools I need even if they feel distant now. Perhaps they will become visible to me in this season of stillness.
Card 6 - Offering cup. Releasing gifts that might prevent the unfolding and growth, unveiling the next cycle to gain confidence in it.
The King of Pentacles suggests that my attachment to material control and outward stability is a shield, but that it now cages me. I don’t need to give up security, but I must let go of my fear of losing it. I need to seek spiritual growth.
Vision from the Deep
Card 7 - The magic circle, active part of the altar. Obtaining a concrete image of what to expect in the next cycle.
The Ten of Pentacles suggests I will find a situation in which to become rooted and strong and giving. I will establish a foundation, reconnect with tradition, claim a place within a community, and gain a sense of belonging that will bless both me and others.
Card 8 - Hekate of many epithets. We are too fluid to be the same person throughout our lives; this rune or card shows the identity we must embrace for this cycle.
Death suggests that my old self is dissolving while a new one is rising. Hekate as psychopomp will guide me through this transformation. Like the figures in the card, I should surrender and welcome this transformation. My old identity cannot accommodate the future that is arriving.
Release and Return
Card 9 - Cauldron. Burn everything no longer needed on the altar, refine the vision you've gained, and keep that vision in the fertile silence of the Underworld for future use.
The Two of Wands reversed shows hesitation, fear of taking the wrong action. I should surrender doubt of this vision and wait trustfully in the fertile silence for the vision to come to fruition.
Card 10 - Water. Release the creative energies you invoked for this ritual, cleanse the altar and yourself. Dissolve the ritual circle and return to the flow of life and self.
The Five of Pentacles reversed represents emerging from scarcity, shame, and the ache of being out in the cold. It shows me reclaiming a sense of self worth. Let the water wash away old wounds and patterns of behavior that keep me isolated. Let resilience and self-trust flow into me, carrying me into a new future.
Turning the Reading into a Rite
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The Hermit asks: What kind of meditation will help me cultivate stillness and hear the voice of inner wisdom?
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The Two of Cups reversed raises the question: How do I face this ache in my character, this yearning for connection? Will it dissolve with the transformation that is coming?
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The Knight of Pentacles wonders: Would creating an altar space be sufficient to help me tend my life with more care and intention?
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The Four of Swords whispers: What kind of rest do I truly need, especially when illness has already taken so much time from gainful employment?
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The Magician echoes: What kind of stillness will allow me to recognize the keys I already possess?
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The King of Pentacles challenges: How do I transmute my desire for material control into a deeper search for spiritual growth?
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With the Ten of Pentacles and Death, I wonder: Is this transformation inevitable? Do I trust it to unfold, no matter what I do?
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The Two of Wands reversed urges me to ask: Is it truly possible to release fear? What symbol can I burn?
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And finally, the Five of Pentacles reversed asks: How do I release the old story of exclusion and scarcity that has shaped me since childhood? What symbol can I wash away?
Would candles, breath, and word be enough? Or is this a ritual that can only unfold in the astral temple, with Hekate guiding me and revealing the symbolic objects I must release?
