MOTHER OF PENTACLES
This week is work. Work that doesn’t work out and wants to be done.
XXI | THE WORLD
Twenty-one: Seven, the number of will, times Three, the number of the Great Mother. A marriage of passive and active; indivisible justice and freedom for all who are willing to engage the synthesis of darkness and light. The World is a nod to the the Wheel of Life and, of course, the Fool. Its appearance sends us free-falling into this week...
FATHER OF CUPS & MOTHER OF CUPS
My feet sighed into the sand as I gulped salty ocean air. Intentionally hyperventilating had an effect like rubbing a cool salve on a festered wound. I trudged quickly, trying to keep pace with friends who walked the flat plane of concrete next to Riis beach...
MOTHER OF PENTACLES
What makes a home a home? Is it the soft brush of a shaggy rug under the balls of your feet? The skin that cracks between your fingers after washing too many dishes? The satisfaction of pulling that last speck of dust from that tiny corner crevice? Is it the eyes that light up when you walk in the door...
MOTHER OF WANDS
I stood in a sea of francophones at Webster Hall, gazing at lights dancing among admiring eyes. Héloise Letissier of Christine and the Queens paced across the stage, jokingly sharing apprehension about being weird and unsure amongst her musical heroines at an awards dinner. I sensed her jokes were maybe half true...
MOTHER OF PENTACLES
"You can ask for more love,” your voice whispered through the phone to my stifling sobs. I wanted desperately to believe you but your words held the stunning weight of impossibility against the ache in my chest. I explained through...