The Tree at the Crossroads, A New Year Rite of Vision and Release with Hekate

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.

New Year's Tarot Spread

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

How do I turn the lessons of this reading into a ritual. What ritual actions will solidify the vision in my mind and in reality?

• The Hermit asks: What kind of meditation will help me cultivate stillness and hear the voice of inner wisdom?
• 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?
• The Knight of Pentacles wonders: Would creating an altar space be sufficient to help me tend my life with more care and intention?
• 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?
• The Magician echoes: What kind of stillness will allow me to recognize the keys I already possess?
• The King of Pentacles challenges: How do I transmute my desire for material control into a deeper search for spiritual growth?
• With the Ten of Pentacles and Death, I wonder: Is this transformation inevitable? Do I trust it to unfold, no matter what I do?
• The Two of Wands reversed urges me to ask: Is it truly possible to release fear? What symbol can I burn?
• 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?

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 Ten of Cups: card 41, Dissension.

At first glance, the title of this card seems difficult to reconcile with the Ten of Cups. We usually associate that card with harmony, gratitude, and emotional fulfillment. Yet perhaps the title points to something that comes before lasting peace.

The central image shows four figures with raised arms. Rather than fighting, they appear to be praying, singing, or participating in a shared ritual. The scene feels expressive rather than hostile.

Stuart Kaplan explains that the figures represent competing groups within Egyptian society and understands the card as internal conflict, failed negotiations, and division. Nelise Carbonare Vieira, however, sees something quite different. She associates the card with discovering one's gifts and finding the courage to reveal them to the world.

At first those interpretations seem unrelated. But perhaps the deepest dissension is not between people. It is within ourselves.

Most of us have hidden parts of ourselves at one time or another. We silence our voices, question our gifts, or avoid expressing what matters because we fear rejection. Yet that inner conflict cannot last forever. Eventually something within us asks to be heard.

Vieira writes that we must make space in society to reveal our gifts and our values. I find that insight compelling. Authentic community is not built by suppressing our differences but by bringing our true selves into relationship with one another.

Perhaps that is why this card precedes harmony. Emotional fulfillment does not come from avoiding conflict. It comes from allowing truth to emerge with honesty and compassion.

As the Kotzker Rebbe taught, "There is nothing so whole as a broken heart."

Sometimes the first sign of healing is not peace. It is the holy disturbance that makes peace possible.

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.)

The High Priestess

The High Priestess reminds us of the connection between our physical and spiritual lives. While her imagery often evokes hidden knowledge and ancient wisdom, she also challenges the dualistic view of body and soul that has been integral to much of Western thought since the ancient Greek Orphics, Pythagoreans, and Platonists. Instead of suggesting that the soul is entirely separate from the body, the High Priestess embodies the idea that consciousness, intuition, and spirituality arise from the physical reality of our existence.

Her symbolism reminds us that understanding life’s mysteries is not distant or unreachable, but woven into our lived experience. By understanding this, we can enhance our spiritual lives, personal journeys, and character development. Through the lens of Jewish tradition and the imagery of the Rider-Waite-Smith deck, we can see how the High Priestess guides us toward a deeper understanding of the unity between body and soul.

Symbolism and Imagery

In the Rider-Waite-Smith deck, the High Priestess sits serenely on a cubical stone, symbolizing the material world that grounds her spiritual wisdom. Behind her, a veil embroidered with pomegranates hangs between two pillars, suggesting a gateway between realms. Beyond the veil lies a body of water, an emblem of the unconscious mind, flowing toward the distant horizon.

The veil and pillars evoke the First Temple, referencing sacred mysteries and the duality of human nature: body and soul, conscious and unconscious, good and evil. The High Priestess, positioned between these dualities, acts as a mediator, embodying the central pillar of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life. Her serene presence invites us to approach these mysteries not by rejecting the physical world, but by embracing its integral role in our spiritual development.

The Apparent Dualities of Human Nature

The celestial symbols on the High Priestess— a lunar crown representing the moon’s phases and a cross representing the sun’s cycles— remind us of the Jewish solar-lunar calendar and the cyclical nature of life. These symbols emphasize that human experience is deeply rooted in physicality. Our bodies are not obstacles to enlightenment but vessels through which intuition, emotion, and divine wisdom flow.

Jewish tradition underscores this unity. Deuteronomy 30:11–19 urges us to “choose life” and to recognize that divine wisdom is neither hidden nor distant:

“It is not in the heavens... nor is it beyond the sea... The word is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to do it.”

This teaching aligns with the High Priestess’s scroll, which reveals all but one letter of the Torah. Her flowing robes, which fall to the crescent moon at her feet, suggest that divine wisdom arises from within our physical nature. The High Priestess reminds us that holiness is not achieved by escaping the body but by embracing it and choosing life in all its fullness.

Connections to Jewish Tradition

In Jewish tradition, our two inclinations— the yetzer tov (good inclination) and yetzer hara (evil inclination)— are natural parts of our being. The High Priestess, seated between the black and white pillars, symbolizes the balance between these forces. She teaches that both are essential for survival and growth.

Her role contrasts with the Devil card, which depicts chains and entrapment. While the Devil represents our inclinations as burdens, the High Priestess shows us how to integrate them into a life of freedom and purpose. Freedom, she teaches, is not an absence of constraint but a harmonious relationship with the currents of life, much like a bird soaring on the wind or a canoe navigating a river.

The cubical seats of The Priestess and The Devil reflect the message of Deuteronomy with its images of two stones, freestanding pillars, one placed on Mount Gerizim and the other on Mount Ebal, representing life and death, good and evil, respectively. Just as the Israelites were instructed to choose life, so too does the High Priestess urge us to choose wisely from within the framework of our physical existence.

Personal Insight

While meditating on this card, I have often seen an empty canoe in the water behind the High Priestess— a personal symbol from my shamanic journeys. To me, this canoe represents the unguided spirit traveling through the waters of life, a poignant reminder of the connection between body and soul. It also serves as a metaphor for navigating life’s mysteries: our journey is guided by intuition, which arises from our physical nature.

Modern Perspectives

Modern tarot scholars offer rich insights into the High Priestess’s symbolism. Norma Cowie emphasizes the pillars as representing the contrasts within us— unconscious negativity and conscious striving for goodness. Laura Tempest Zakroff likens the High Priestess to the heart, pumping life through the body while symbolizing the hidden depths of consciousness.

Robin Wood’s depiction of the High Priestess places her outdoors, surrounded by nature. Her pentacle necklace underscores the harmony of body and spirit, while her open book suggests that wisdom is accessible to all who seek it. These interpretations align with Doreen Valiente’s Charge of the Star Goddess:

“If that which you seek, you find not within yourself, you shall never find it without.”

The High Priestess challenges us to trust our intuition and embrace the path that flows from within.

Conclusion

Spiritual growth comes not from denying our physical nature but from understanding and embracing it. The High Priestess reminds us that wisdom and guidance are not distant or hidden but arise from the union of body and soul, of heart and mind. Her invitation to “choose life” calls us to explore the depths of our nature and act with awareness, balance, and purpose.

By contemplating her symbolism, we learn that freedom and growth are not found in rejecting the physical world but in engaging with it and mastering ourselves. Through her, we see that the mysteries of life are already within us, waiting to be discovered.

The High Priestess invites us to choose life, not by ignoring the body but by recognizing that our consciousness and spirituality arise from it. She encourages us to explore the depths of our nature while embracing our physical life. We can balance the various aspects of our minds and choose a path of growth and wisdom. The High Priestess encourages us to seek spiritual maturity and the mastery of our physical life.

Contemplative Tarot - Seeking Victory

In stillness, seek the spark that wakes your mind.
Embrace the body with joy-- it is the source of soul.
Surrender to the unfolding of life, and seek vision in the divine.

The Four of Cups

A man sits against a tree, arms and legs crossed in a closed posture. Three cups rest before him, while a fourth is offered by a hand emerging from a cloud. His eyes are shut; he’s unaware of his surroundings. This card speaks to introspection and emotional withdrawal. Is the figure lost in apathy—or is he consciously turning inward, like the Buddha under the fig tree? The image invites us to consider whether our stillness stems from resistance or deep reflection.

The Empress

A beautiful woman reclines against cushions, dressed in a flowing gown patterned with pomegranates. She sits in a field of ripening wheat, with a forest and waterfall behind her. A heart-shaped shield marked with Venus rests nearby. A crown of stars and laurel wreath adorn her head, and she holds a scepter topped with a globe. This card represents fertility, abundance, and loving care. The Empress reminds us to nurture what we love, to live in harmony with nature, and to honor the cycles of growth and creation.

The Hanged Man

Suspended upside down from a living tree, the man hangs by one foot, his other leg bent. A halo surrounds his head. His shirt defies gravity, suggesting a choice rather than punishment. The tree is vibrant with green leaves. This card embodies surrender and new perspectives. The Hanged Man shows us that insight often comes when we let go. In moments of powerlessness, we may gain clarity by accepting what is and viewing life from another angle.

Reflection

Notice where discontent or emotional numbness is blocking your growth. Then gently shift your attention toward what brings you peace, beauty, and gratitude. Care for your mind by seeking inspiration; care for your body by grounding yourself in pleasure and vitality. Life will never be fully in your control, but your perspective is always yours to choose. Begin where you are, and seek the kind of victory that restores your strength and renews your spirit.

Egipcios Kier * 18 The Moon

The Moon has long been associated with illusion, uncertainty, dreams, and the subconscious. Yet moonlight does something remarkable. It doesn't banish the darkness. It softens it, revealing just enough for us to keep walking.

Like the traditional tarot image, this card shows two canines gazing toward the moon. Here, the wolf becomes the jackal of Anubis, guide of the dead, while the crayfish is replaced by a water scorpion, a creature that lives between water and air. Together they evoke instinct, mystery, and the unseen paths we must sometimes follow.

Unlike many tarot interpretations that emphasize fear and deception, I've come to appreciate the moon differently. Over the years I've noticed how moonlight transforms an ordinary landscape. Harsh edges disappear, familiar places become mysterious, and a quiet path emerges where none seemed visible before.

Perhaps intuition works the same way. It rarely floods us with certainty. Instead, it offers enough light for the next step. We don't need to see the whole journey before we begin walking.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira describes this card as a search for one's true identity, the recovery of forgotten gifts, and a gentler way of expressing ourselves. Her words are compatible with the moon's quiet guidance.

The Moon reminds us that not every path is meant to be walked in daylight. Sometimes wisdom comes softly, inviting us to trust what we can already see rather than fearing what remains hidden.

Egipcios Kier Tarot * 29 Domesticity

The word domesticity usually brings to mind the comfort of home. Yet the image on this card suggests something deeper. A young boy gently rests his hands on the head and antler of a wild animal. Rather than taming nature by force, he appears to live in quiet relationship with it.

The surrounding symbols reinforce that idea. Kaplan notes that the scarab represents renewal, while the vessel below symbolizes the heart, the place where our inner life is held. Together they suggest that a true home is not merely a place, but a way of living in harmony with the world around us.

One detail especially caught my attention. A hieroglyph resembling a knife appears above the scene. At first it seems to threaten the card's peaceful mood. Yet Kaplan explains that gazelles were sacred animals whose movements signaled the coming of the Nile flood, the event upon which Egypt's survival depended. Perhaps the knife is not a threat to the gazelle at all. Instead, it reminds us that human beings flourish not by conquering nature, but by learning its rhythms and working within them.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira associates this card with the traditional Eight of Wands, a card of movement and opportunity. The connection surprised me at first, but I find it persuasive. The boy has already reached out and taken hold of the opportunity before him. He does not force it; he responds to it.

Domesticity, then, is more than hearth and home. It is learning to live in right relationship with nature, with community, and with the rhythms that sustain life.

Egipcios Kier - 71 Avarice

Card 71 depicts a man carefully recording his possessions. Before him stand jars of grain and shelves holding additional stores of food or wealth. He wears an elaborate necklace, suggesting that he is already prosperous. Yet the title of the card is Avarice, inviting us to ask when prudent stewardship becomes endless accumulation.

The lower portion of the cartouche contains a large jar adorned with uraeus serpents. It resembles the canopic jars used to preserve the organs of the dead. Whether or not that association was intended, the image quietly reminds us that wealth cannot outlast mortality. Eventually every account is closed.

Above the scene appear the Hebrew letter Tet (ט), several magical symbols, and what Kaplan interprets as either a waning moon or the wounded Eye of Horus. Even abundance is subject to loss.

Kaplan associates the card with greed, possessiveness, and the inability to share. Reversed, he suggests obstacles, setbacks, and frustrated ambition.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira pairs Avarice with the traditional Eight of Pentacles, a correspondence that initially surprised me. The Eight of Pentacles honors patient craftsmanship and the satisfaction of honest work. Avarice asks a different question: What is all that work for?

Labor can become an act of service, creativity, and provision for those we love. But it can also become an endless pursuit of more. The difference lies not in the work itself, but in the heart of the worker.

The man on this card may simply be taking inventory. Or he may already have more than enough and be unable to recognize it. Avarice reminds us that contentment is not measured by what we possess, but by knowing when enough is enough.

Egipcios Kier * 36 Initiation

Card 36 is watched over by Taweret, the Egyptian goddess of childbirth and protection. Although she combines the forms of a hippopotamus, lion, and crocodile, ancient Egyptians especially admired the fierce devotion of the female hippopotamus in defending her young. Taweret's strength is expressed not through conquest, but through care.

She walks beside a small human figure, probably a woman approaching childbirth for the first time. The initiate carries the ankh, symbol of life, while Taweret holds the tayet, the girdle of Isis, another emblem of protection and renewal. Together they suggest that initiation is not simply acquiring knowledge. It is accepting the responsibilities that accompany new life.

The symbols surrounding the scene reinforce this theme. The Hebrew letter Tzadi, the serpent associated with birth, and the seated teacher all point toward preparation, guidance, and transformation. We rarely enter a new stage of life entirely alone.

Stuart Kaplan associates this card with childbirth, feminine power, progress, and artistic inspiration. Nelise Carbonare Vieira pairs it with the Ace of Wands, the spark of new beginnings and creative potential. The connection feels natural. Every true beginning asks us to become someone we have not yet been.

Whether we are welcoming a child, beginning a vocation, creating something beautiful, or simply growing into a wiser version of ourselves, initiation is both gift and responsibility.

Like the small figure in this card, we do not take those first steps alone. Wisdom walks beside us.

An Inquiry with the Oneness Tarot

Upon receiving the Tarot of Oneness, a beautiful and alluring deck, I expected to have an effortless rapport with it. However, my assumption was challenged during a recent reading using a spread by Arith Harger, where the messages proved elusive.

So my friend, Yael, suggested that I engage the deck in dialogue through a series of questions. In this post, I consider the insights that emerged from this unusual interaction.

Who are you?
I am the Queen of Cups gazing into the cup of vision, the primordial sea, our collective soul. Beyond my compassion and understanding, I am also a source of creative solutions.

What kind of questions do you most like to consider?
As the Page of Wands, I am filled with wonder and excitement, preferring questions that are grounded in reality, but that also seek the spark of the divine in this world.

What are your strengths?
As the Nine of Pentacles, I offer a time of serene contemplation and wholeness. I can lift you beyond current limitations, nurture gratitude, and foster a sense of self worth.

What are your weaknesses?
With the Three of Wands, I acknowledge my limitations in the realm of action and implementation of plans. Although I can share my foresight and guidance, I cannot travel the path with you. You must be your own agent of change.

How do you see me?
I see you as the Ace of Pentacles, a seed bursting with potential, brimming with the creative energy and the capacity to nurture growth and abundance—but only if you seize this time!

What can I do to create a strong connection between us?
Make offerings of fresh water to me as Temperance. Recognize me as a bridge between earthly and celestial realms. Cultivate patience, balance, and reverence when interacting with me to create a harmonious bond between us.

What mindset should I take upon myself when I reach out to you so I understand your answers better?
Embody the symbolism of the Ace of Swords by approaching me with clarity of intention and mental focus. Let my insights resonate deeply within you.

These insights from the Tarot of Oneness offer me a path to self discovery and self improvement. As I continue to work with this magical deck, I will embrace not just its answers, but the transformative power of inquiry itself.

Egipcios Kier * 4 The Emperor

The Emperor is about the structure that allows life to flourish. He represents authority, responsibility, and the discipline required to govern both a community and oneself. His power is not domination but steadiness.

The Egyptian pharaoh sits upon a black cubic throne, a symbol associated with Thoth, the god of wisdom and order. The throne is decorated with Bastet, whose victory over the serpent evokes protection and the triumph of order over chaos. The crook in the pharaoh's hand reminds us that leadership is expressed through guidance rather than force.

The hieroglyphs on the card emphasize work, stability, and authority. Together they suggest that meaningful leadership is earned through responsibility rather than simply inherited or claimed.

Like the traditional Emperor, this card speaks of structure, boundaries, and experience. It encourages us to establish order in our own lives before trying to influence the world around us. Leadership begins with self-mastery.

One detail especially speaks to me. Nelise Carbonare Vieira associates this card with discovering and exercising one's gifts. Authority is not merely holding power over others; it is learning to recognize the abilities entrusted to us and putting them to meaningful use.

The Magician's Tools - Guidance from Ermiti and Nienna

I did a reading today, to elucidate the message that The Magician card gave me yesterday.

My first question was how to sense and connect with the power available to me. I am learning from HearthWitch on YouTube how to sense energy in things in places—but how do I sense the greater force that fills the universe and that presumably my own heart as well?

The first card, which fell from the deck, was the Four of Swords. This card shows us a sarcophagus carved to represent a person at rest. Tree branches shelter the figure, but the starry sky is visible above and sheathed swords hang from the tree’s branches. This card suggests setting aside one's ordinary tools and turning from external work to explore one’s inner being. It reminds me of the Alexander Technique, in which become more aware of your body and regain your most natural movements, rather than focus on resuming a task that currently causes you pain. I believe the advice of this card right now is to become aware of my innate inclinations, explore the anatomy of my soul, and deepen the connection between my soul and the universe.

Secondly, I asked to be shown my own goals and received the Knight of Wands, a fiery and energetic figure in the Robin Wood tarot. Knights lived for an ideal and the helmet of this knight is shaped like a lion’s head, suggesting the lion of Judah. It may indicate my aspiration to learn and teach Torah, sometimes referred to as “black fire upon white fire.”

My next question was where to focus my efforts. I pulled Strength, number eight of the Major Arcana, and found another lion! In the Robin Wood Tarot's version of this card, a mature woman gently strokes the lion and opens his mouth. Her skirt is filled with flowers that she has collected and she has made a wreath of flowers for her hair. Her hands caress the lion, opening his mouth to speak to her. Torah is sometimes (rather disturbingly) compared to a woman whom we undress and explore, but here it is the lion who is caressed and his mouth opened so we can hear the voice of Torah (קול הטארוט). This card may suggest harnessing inner strength and gentleness to explore and those mysteries.

My next question was how to nurture my ability to promote my skills for financial stability. I received The Emperor, number four of the Major Arcana card, which depicts a mature man firmly seated on his throne. His attire reflects success and mastery. His skills have been recognized and his achievements affirmed. Becoming aware of one’s own power can ultimately lead to recognition and success.

The final card, the Four of Wands, fell from the deck in response to my question about finding gainful employment that will allow me creative expression. This card signifies celebration, communication, and union. The wands supporting a wedding canopy mirror the s'chach (סכך) of branches in the first card and symbolize a transition from self-exploration to public expression, celebrating the journey of the soul.

The repeated appearance of the number four this reading is significant: the Four of Swords, the 4+4 of Strength, The Emperor, and the Four of Wands. These cards signify stability, foundation, and the ability to build and manifest in the physical realm.

For me personally, the Four of Swords and the Four of Wands are signs that Ermiti and Nienna have messages for me. These two beings are reminders of divine power in human form and the feminine expression of that power.

Ermiti, the “serpentine guardian of the waters of the west,” embodies not only strength and protection but also introspection and the exploration of inner realms. In this reading, the Four of Swords resonates with Ermiti's encouragement to set aside external distractions and turn inward. Ermiti's serpentine form suggests a winding and labyrinthine journey into the depths of self, mirroring the path of self-discovery indicated by this card. Just as Ermiti dwells in the the waters of the west, the Four of Swords invites me to explore the depths of my soul's reservoir, tapping into the wellspring of inner wisdom and strength.

Nienna, the goddess of compassion, whose “song of lamentation is woven into the fabric of the world,” lends her compassionate and nurturing energy to the Four of Wands. While this card signifies public celebration, Nienna adds notes of compassion and empathy. Her song reminds me of the importance of connecting with others on a deep emotional level. As I transition from self-exploration to public expression, Nienna's influence encourages me to infuse my creative endeavors with compassion and understanding. My journey isn't only about personal success, but also about uplifting and comforting others through my work.

Ermiti and Nienna serve as guiding spirits in this reading, emphasizing the significance of inner exploration and compassion. Ermiti encourages me to delve into the depths of self-awareness and harness inner strength, while Nienna reminds me to infuse my creative journey with empathy and a deep connection to humanity. Their presence underscores the spiritual and compassionate aspects of my quest for personal and creative fulfillment.

Five cards from The Robin Wood Tarot,
and The Magician from The Art Nouveau Tarot

Acknowledging Power - The Sorcerer's Path to Transformation

The Magician from The Art Nouveau Tarot

The Magician appears at the moment we realize that transformation is possible, but only if we claim our power.

Norma Cowie writes, "Acknowledge that there is a force and power to be utilized in your life." That’s the first step. The Magician doesn’t wait for permission. He raises his wand, aligns intention with action, and draws power from above and below. His tools lie before him, his life, as Cowie puts it, and he knows it’s up to him to use them.

The white lilies and red roses, the serpent belt, and the lemniscate above his head all symbolize the same truth: mastery is possible when desire and discipline meet. But first, you must believe that change is within reach. Begin immediately.

Spiritual growth is not passive. "If you aspire to achieve your desires or goals," Cowie reminds us, "then it is up to you to go after them." The Magician shows that the laws of the universe are real and accessible—but only to those willing to engage with them.

When I pulled this card while asking for strength and determination, I understood: I already have what I need. "The Magician holds no great secrets." He simply invites us to begin.

Let this card ask you:

• What power already flows through you?
• What tools have you been ignoring?
• What life are you ready to create?

Quotes from Norma Cowie, Exploring the Patterns of the Tarot

Egipcios Kier * 62 Proscription

Card 62 presents a ruler holding both the ankh, symbol of life, and the flail, symbol of authority and discipline. Together they capture one of the oldest tensions in political and spiritual life: the same power that protects can also oppress.

The pharaoh wears the double crown of a united Egypt, embodying both earthly and divine authority. Beneath him appears a shepherd's staff, reminding us that leadership is meant not only to command, but also to guide and protect. The stylized tree-like symbol appears incomplete, reminding me that authority alone cannot bring wholeness.

Stuart Kaplan notes that the pharaoh was considered the source of law while also standing above it. Egyptian order was understood as an expression of truth itself. That vision gave stability to society, but it also concentrated immense power in a single person.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira associates this card with the traditional Three of Swords. At first the correspondence surprised me, but I think it points toward the emotional cost of authority. Every exercise of authority risks causing pain. Justice requires difficult decisions, yet authority without compassion easily becomes tyranny.

Perhaps that is the deepest lesson of this card. Power is never an end in itself. Its purpose is to preserve life, protect the vulnerable, and create the conditions in which a community can flourish.

A strong ruler can unify and protect a society, yet this card also reminds us of the harsh realities of authority. The pharaoh stands as both protector and punisher. He guards his people against threats from within and without, but the card also warns of the dangers of absolute power and its corrupting influence.

Supporting and Protecting Our Community

Samhain, a Celtic Cross Quarter day between the fall equinox and winter solstice, holds the promise of transformation. It was once a Celtic pagan festival when burial mounds were opened and guidance was sought from the Otherworld. As I approach this evening, I seek guidance from the tarot to understand how to rekindle my sense of purpose and contribute to my community's well-being.

For the past year, my focus has been on studying sorcery and successfully eliminating negativity from my life. However, recent events have left me feeling confused and overwhelmed. In the last days, I've resorted to excessive eating and extended periods of sleep to cope with these emotions. Despite my involvement in volunteer work, I find myself mourning the suffering and loss within my community, confused about what actions we should take as a community to save those in peril and to protect ourselves. My energy is depleted, leaving me questioning how I can effectively serve my community and discover activities that will help us all and keep me grounded.

In this reading, I address these five questions:

1. What ideas or energies from the past year should I release or let go of during Samhain so I can figure out what I need to do now?
2. How can I harness the energies of Samhain to renew my energy find a more active role in my community?
3. What role can I play in supporting my community during the coming year?
4. What strengths or resources do I possess that I can channel for the greater good?
5. What message or guidance does Samhain have for me regarding my community's future and my own?

1. Releasing the past: The Star
The Star card, a symbol of justified hope, depicts a naked woman, one foot in water and the other knee on land, ritually pouring two bowls of water—one onto the earth and one into a body of water. She's looking into the water instead of walking the earth. This image resonates with the magic I've been studying through much of the past year. Rather than focusing just on my situation, I must look around me take practical action to support my community.

2. Renewing energy: the Knight of Pentacles
This is the good guy card, the salt of the earth, who considers consequences and who is dependable and hardworking, not lazy as I have been the last few days. The card shows a elaborately armored knight astride a work horse. Before him is plowed but unplanted soil. He treats each ordinary task as a holy quest. A symbol of hard work and honor, this card suggests focusing on important issues and approaching related tasks as sacred.

3. Supporting the community: Seven of Cups
This card warns against getting lost in daydreams without taking concrete actions. The card shows a young woman day dreaming, her curly hair floating above her head like clouds of ideas where seven cups overflow with fantasy images. One of the cups is decorated with phases of the moon and a snake is periscoping out of it-- this represents the magic I've been learning during the past year. While I may have immersed myself in magical studies and have changed my life, I must bridge the gap between between self and community. This card encourages me to use creative visualization to identify and seize opportunities to support my community.

4. Channeling strength: King of Wands
This card shows a fiery man in a desert, dressed in orange and yellow, lifting his staff with one hand and beckoning with his other hand. He is standing and ready to take action, encouraging people to join him. A reptile is alert near his right foot, but the king's staff is above it and he could kill it in one blow if he chose to. A lion decorates the king's armor, suggesting he can fight and win. This card represents a powerful leader ready for action. Just as he stands prepared to motivate and empower others, this card prompts me to direct my energy and take tangible steps to help and empower my community.

5. Samhain guidance: Ace of Cups
All you need is love and then your cup will overflow with blessings. The card shows the sun rising behind a chalice overflowing with clear water. Purple mountains rise beyond a lake in which water lilies, symbols of enlightenment, grow. Water pours from the cup into the lake, reminiscent of the water flowing from one of the bowls in The Star card. Mermaids decorate the cup, suggesting a connection to the primal waters of creation. This card reminds me that love and compassion are the keys to abundant blessings. The Ace of Cups encourages me to open my heart and nurture relationships within my community.

In summary, this tarot reading offers a positive outlook for my community and tells me what I can do as our leaders make the significant decisions. It tells me to recognize my emotions, kindle my energy, and take practical actions to support those I can. The presence of mountains in the top three cards signifies attainable goals, while the absence of swords suggests a focus on caring for the emotional well-being of my friends and helping all of us take concrete steps forward. Samhain serves as an opportunity for growth even as we heal our wounds.

Egipcios Kier 45 * Regeneration

Sometimes life falls apart.

A relationship ends. A dream dies. The foundation we trusted gives way beneath our feet. In those moments, regeneration begins with the quiet decision to build again.

Card 45 captures that process. At its center, a man raises a small djed pillar, the ancient Egyptian symbol of stability and resurrection. Its modest size is significant. Renewal rarely begins with dramatic victories. It begins by lifting one small thing back into place.

The ancient Egyptians celebrated this act in the Raising of the Djed ceremony, in which the pillar was lifted before the sowing season as a sign that life would return. Associated with Osiris, the djed became a symbol of restoration after loss, reminding us that even what has fallen may stand again.

The card's other symbols reinforce that hope. An ear of grain recalls the Egyptian Field of Reeds, where life continues beyond death. The Hebrew letter Hei (ה) hints at the divine Presence that accompanies renewal. Together they suggest that regeneration is more than recovery. It is participation in the ongoing work of creation.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira associates this card with the traditional Six of Cups. I find that correspondence especially meaningful. We do not rebuild from nothing. We rebuild from memory, from relationships, from skills we thought we had lost, and from the quiet gifts that have remained with us all along.

My teacher, Rabbi Alan Berg, once explained why we break a glass at a Jewish wedding. In our moment of greatest joy, we remember the destruction of the Temple. Then, when sorrow inevitably comes, we are able to remember joy. The two belong together.

Regeneration is not forgetting what was lost. It is discovering that hope survived the loss.

Egipcios Kier * 24 Unraveling the Threads of The Weaver

The Egypcios Kier Tarot is a deck designed and illustrated by an Argentinian occultist and published in Buenos Aires. The deck is accompanied by an English commentary written by tarot scholar Stuart Kaplan.

As I continued my study of this captivating deck, I discovered a tapestry of themes woven into card 24 – The Weaver. As I’ve noted in earlier posts, each card shows a cartouche divided into three sections, each containing various symbols and images. It occurs to me that the upper section of the cartouche may relate to the “upper worlds” or to spiritual matters, the lower section to the “Underworld” or unconscious impulses, and the middle section to our daily lives here in this world.

In the top third of this cartouche we find three symbols:

The magical letter: A curious symbol resembling an ‘M’ lying on its side with circles on its ‘feet’ remains a mystery to me. Lacking an understanding of this symbol, I considered my understanding of the letter M. Its sound is within every word for ‘mother’ throughout the world because it is the first sound a baby makes when learning to speak. The Egyptians drew a vertical wavy line to depict this sound and to represent the primordial waters of creation; this symbol changed only slight over the millennia and between cultures and became ‘M’ in the Latin alphabet.

The snail hieroglyph: Today, the word ‘snail’ evokes the idea of slowness, as in the term ‘snail mail,’ or the poetic ‘lock upon the garden gate’ of psychedelic folk music.

Exaggerated in the hieroglyph are the snail’s antennae, the longer ones hold its eyes, a shorter set contains its olfactory organs. The size of the antenna here suggest a reaching out of oneself for wider awareness of the surrounding world and a quest for understanding.

Only its delicate shell protects the snail. This suggests we should be more aware that the protections we construct around ourselves are more fragile than we imagine.

The snail shares a connection with royalty. Ancient Mediterranean peoples obtained a purple dye from the Tyrian sea snail and only royalty could afford to wear fabric colored that exquisite hue.

The conversive ‘Vav’: The Hebrew letter Vav resembles the hooked lights used in the Sorcery of Hekate to draw our aspirations to us. According to the teachings of Chabad Lubavitch, the name of the letter means ‘hook,’ an object that holds two things together.

As a prefix, Vav is a conjunction. Adding a Vav to the beginning of any word creates the meaning ‘and’ or ‘but,’ connecting or separating words and phrases. In biblical usage, it can convert a verb from the past to the future tense, or from the future to the past tense, linking the two times into a single moment, hence the saying, “There is no earlier or later in the Torah.”

The Vav illuminates the power of language and communication. It symbolizes our ability to bridge the gap between ourselves and higher realms, to shape this world through our thoughts, speech, and actions.

Another image appears in a smaller cartouche that overlays both the top and middle of the card:

Nurturing mother: A seated woman crowned with sun and moon nurses an adult-looking infant pharaoh who is wearing the double crown of upper and lower Egypt. The tableau may represent the goddess Isis and her child Horus. The image encapsulates the patient process of nurturing a child from infancy onward. Just as a snail’s shell offers limited protection, so does the maternal presence safeguard a child, blending strength and vulnerability.

The fact that this small cartouche is present in both the top or "upper world" section of the card and the "middle world" section suggests that maternal nurturing is both a divine and very human act.

The bottom third of the cartouche reveals another trio of enigmatic symbols:

Cryptic fence: A curious symbol consisting of green crosshatching reminds me of a garden fence, but I have been unable to determine what it signified in ancient Egyptian culture.

The cobra: A rearing cobra wraps itself around a lotus stem. This single serpent spiraling around a staff or pole is the emblem of Asclepius, the Greek god of healing. It was a common healing symbol in the ancient Mediterranean region and was even mentioned twice in the Hebrew Bible, where is referred to as Nahash or Nehushtan. (In contrast, today’s more commonly seen image of two snakes entwining around a staff was actually the symbol of Hermes, the god of merchants and a psychopomp who guided the dead to the underworld.)

The lotus flowers: Two more lotuses, atop long stems, appear on either side of the cobra. Lotuses grow from the muddy beds of streams and ponds, their flowers blossoming on the surface of the water; their stems are not usually visible to us. Lotus flowers appear in the art of earliest Egypt and continued to be depicted frequently throughout the culture’s history. Like the snake, lotuses represent healing but also spiritual rebirth. The lotus was valued for its use in perfumes and its scent believed to revive the spirit. In Egyptian mythology, the lotus flower was the first thing to emerge from the watery primordial chaos, and when it opened, the sun was born from it. The myth reflects natural observations of the flower: at sunrise, the lotus blossom emerges from the water and opens; at fall of night, it closes and submerges below the surface of the water.

The heart of the cartouche displays a powerful image:

The Loom: A bare-breasted woman, an unexceptional sight in ancient Egypt, is working a loom anchored to the wall. She crouches on the floor as she methodically guides the shuttle with her left hand and holds the frame of the loom with her right hand. She is creating a tapestry of green thread that resembles the crosshatching in the ‘fence’ symbol below. Her task is slow and repetitive, requiring patience and persistence, but allowing some creative expression. The loom is a universal tool and symbol, and the tapestry made with it is a metaphor for the interwoven nature of existence. As the Weaver manipulates warp and weft she is mirroring the divine act of creating the universe, and the threads of the loom suggest the Thread of Fate.

This evocative image weaves together the mundane with the divine just as the act of weaving suggests creation and nurturing. The small cartouche that impinges on the central image repeats the idea of holiness and nurturing.

Weaving is a solitary task. However, the growing and processing of wool and flax required the participation and labor of many members of society in complex relationships with each other. The fabrics created by the weaver would also benefit other people and society in general.

The card’s title includes another triad of symbols:

The Venus Symbol: Venus is known for evoking emotions, especially love. This symbol is prominent in other tarot decks, especially on The Empress card, which often shows a pregnant woman. In this card, working the loom is comparable to maternal care. Physical birthing was, for the most part, biologically inevitable, but striving for a more conscious and active role in transforming the world, the Weaver mirrors the goddess’s creativity.

The ‘U’: The twenty-first letter of the English alphabet suggests uracil, a key component of DNA, which forms the tapestry of existence. On the periodic table of elements ‘U’ is the symbol for uranium. Its esoteric value is connected to inspiration, optimism, and creative self-expression.

Numeral 6: The Pythagorean meaning of this number is harmony. It is the numerical value of the Hebrew letter Vav which appears at the top of the cartouche. Both letter and numeral link divine insight with successful earthly endeavors.

Kaplan unravels history:

Egyptian weavers, who, it was believed, had been taught their skills by the goddess Isis in the distant past, produced an array of items, from sails to clothing, and bandages to shrouds. Their textiles were made solely of flax, because, according to Kaplan, the use of leather and wool were forbidden in their culture. Egyptian linen was renowned and desired, because it was dyed vibrant colors and often embroidered with exotic designs. (Today, Egyptian cotton is famous, but cotton was not available to the ancient Egyptians.)

Both upright and reversed meanings reveal layers of meaning:

According to Kaplan, the upright meanings encompass many ideas: From traditionally feminine work to patient craft, the Weaver embodies diligent effort to create an object of beauty and usefulness. The card indicates the ability to weave different aspects of life together meaningfully as well as the nurturing protectiveness of motherhood.

Kaplan provides us with these reversed meanings: Mediocrity caused by impatience, disarray, and neglect.

Other possibilities for interpreting the card: The card brings to mind the beauty of virtue and strength as expressed in a passage from the Book of Proverbs. The Woman of Valor “seeks wool and flax, and works with willing hands…” The text continues:

She dresses herself with strength and makes her arms strong.
She puts her hands to the distaff, and her hands hold the spindle.
She opens her hand to the poor, and reaches out her hands to the needy.
She is not afraid of snow for her household, for all her household are clothed in scarlet.
Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.
She opens her mouth with wisdom and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.

This card shows a weaver who may embody many of those qualities. However, this tarot card can also be interpreted in more traditional ways.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira, a Brazilian blogger who has written extensively about the Egipcios Kier Tarot, associates this card with the Queen of Wands, which to me is the card of Hestia, goddess of the hearth, and a sybol of female strength. Vieira suggests The Weaver indicates the “certainty of being able to provide for one's needs.” (Pamela Colman Smith added a domestic cat her card, implying psychic awareness. In ancient Egypt, domestic cats were considered women's pets and were often portrayed inhabiting homes; however, it would seem wise to keep those playful, curious animals away from the threads of a loom.)

The Thread of Fate:

The central image of the weaver brings to mind the Greek Moirai, the three Fates, who control the threads of individual destiny. Klothó, with her long braid, holds a spindle and distaff, gathering material to spin the thread. Láḥesis, her bare foot showing as her gown pools on the floor around her, carefully studies the quality of the thread and measures it for purpose. Átropos, wearing the rich extravagant clothes the three have created, cuts the thread.

The theme of female figures in control of destiny is found in many European cultures, perhaps originating in the remotest Indo-European past. Romans, for example, believed that the three Parcae recorded the thread of life for every being, even the greatest of gods. The Norse feared the three death-bringing Norns, whose name means ‘to twine’ and who drew water from a sacred well to nourish the World Tree, thus shaping human destiny. The Wyrds of Anglo-Saxon mythology also dwelt by a well under a world tree and, like the Greek Fates, they spun, measured, and cut the thread of fate. Seven goddesses who wove the thread of destiny inhabit Celtic mythology. Many similar female beings are preserved in eastern European folktales and there are some scattered references to fate goddesses in Indian literature, too.

A Call to Divine Craft:

The Weaver speaks of magic within the mundane, the transformation of fibers into fabrics, and even the preservation of ancient traditions in modern times. The loom bridges past and present, inviting us to engage in acts of creation that connect us to history's threads.

Every tapestry tells a story. I have a tallis, a prayer shawl, that was hand-woven for me by Laine Schipper, a woman who attended my synagogue and whose husband, Joel, would wrap them both in his tallis (which had originally served as their chuppah, marriage canopy) during the closing song of the service each Shabbat.

In conclusion:

I am mesmerized and baffled by the blending of related but disparate elements in this card. The threads in this card are too many and too intricate to discuss in a single blog post.

Each time the card appears in a reading, a different theme may come to the fore. Many of the following themes can be derived from this rich imagery:

- the creative powers of sound and speech
- the primordial waters of creation
- the beauty of tenacity, dignity, and courage
- patience and persistence in creative expression
- reaching outside ourselves for awareness
- maternal nurturing
- protection and fragility
- relationship between earth and heaven, the mundane and the divine, a mother and child
- healing and medicine
- spiritual rebirth
- the interconnectedness of life
- the value of relationships
- the Thread of Fate

When The Weaver appears in a reading, it may suggest that the querent is in a period of creating or shaping his or her destiny, and should be encouraged to be patient and persistant. The appearance of this card might indicate a need to nurture an idea, project, or relationship, recognizing the delicate balance between strength and vulnerability. The card may also be a reminder of the interconnectedness of a person's actions and the broader tapestry of life, urging that person to consider how daily tasks and creative endeavors contribute to his or her spiritual and material world. Moreover, The Weaver can highlight the power of communication and the significance of nurturing one's inner and outer worlds, suggesting that the querent weave together different aspects of his or her life to find harmony and purpose.

Today, the card has spoken to me of a connection to the celestial realm while doing my daily tasks in this world, and the privilege women can exercise of birthing and nursing children. I recall my disappointment when I realized I’d never have children, but I rejoice now in my writing endeavors. The card reminds me of the fragility of life and relationships and encourages me to treasure them.

This Post is For You

I find myself neglecting to write about the deck that I began to explore recently. Currently, I have three intriguing posts in various stages of "incompletion." I will dedicate tomorrow afternoon to completing one of these pieces, but before I do so, please let me know which of the following topics sparks your interest:

Card 24 - The Weaver: I will explore the three goddesses of Fate who appear in the myths of several European and Indo-European cultures.

Card 62 - Proscription: I will attempt to unravel a few of the intricate threads of idea of power and our intricate relationship with it and with the sources of authority in our world.

Card 9 - The Hermit: I will consider the possible origins of the early Christian inclination towards solitary desert asceticism, entwining it with the symbolism of The Hermit card.

Alternatively, I am drawn to the alluring image in Card 13 - Immortality. The image beckons me to ask, not for the first time, why we so often link harvest and mortality. Could it be solely the influence of the invented folk song, "John Barleycorn Must Die," or is there some deeper more arcane source for the connection of these two disparate concepts that echo in our collective unconscious?