Love hurts. It gets hot when bothered, goosebumps in the cold chill of fear, stings under precise pressure and shatters when dropped. Love deserts and abandons and betrays. But love also teaches, inspires, heals. Love can be patient, though sometimes it waits too long. At other moments, love leaps and bounds brashly, bearing butterflies or big guns. Love is strange. Just when you think it fits, it breaks the mold. Just when you think it doesn’t, the glove that holds it softens.

The Two of Cups symbolizes the most basic and vital principal of love: that it always involves at least two entities. It shows what happens when we are willing to invest our interest and affection for another person, group, place, or thing. This card represents the moment when the salsa band takes up their instruments and begins to play. The thrill turnt up when we unite two in a tango.

For so long, I’ve walked around with fists clenched, built bars around my heart, and put my desires in a tiny cage with enough wit but no encouragement to pick the lock. I thought if I had nothing to lose, I wouldn’t have to feel the pain that comes with the casualties of relationships. So I’ve lived many a relationship and conversation in my head. I played the follower and the leader. I shut down, mis-stepped, and tripped all over myself while the band improvised and tried to keep pace with my loco solo swinging.

This week is complicated, full of dusks and dawns, closed doors and exposed opportunities. The Two of Cups encourages the electricity that comes with every beginning. It wants us to jump in, start fresh, feel rejuvenated and it wants us not to do it alone. It’s a time to twist and spin and boogie, but make sure there’s enough space for someone else to dance with you. To speak to you. Ask for clarity. Change the pace, even the tune if you’re not feeling the music. Marvel at the magic made when you’re willing to waltz to the same 1-2 step.