Grief wants to be named, to be walked with, cradled in the palm of one’s hand. Only then can it grow into something else. It is a kind of devotion.

Poised between two eclipses and at the pivotal point of the equinox, what can the Two of Pentacles tell us about change, and finding peace in perpetual motion?

How do you remember time? How do you hold on to time?

Botanical essences offer a gentle yet profound support to emotional well-being. Imbued with the energetic current of flowers, leaves, or other plant parts, these natural remedies are in conversation with us as we move through the various landscapes of grieving.

Each of the 7s shows a figure at odds with their environment. In the macro sense, it’s the individual at odds with the collective. At the individual level we can see this dynamic as our ego at odds with our unconscious desires.

The Tarot’s Minor Arcana often impart their deepest wisdom when considered in conversation. For example, we learn more about the Five of Pentacles when we examine it in relation to the Fives across the other three suits (Cups, Wands, and Swords). Similarly, we can think about how cards interact as part of a sequence (5s, 6s, and 7s, for instance). But what about cards that have no obvious relationship in the deck? If we look closely, some of the Minor cards bear resemblances that echo one another. I call these mirror cards, because they present a new perspective on a similar theme.

Grieving is neither neat nor pretty and to survive it, we withdraw to an inner navigation system. It involves reaching intuitively through dark and unfamiliar landscapes, finding comfort and sustenance in unexpected spaces and beings. If there is a pattern to the process, it is the alternating experience of plunging into the depths and coming up for air.

In ancient Chinese dream manuals, dreaming is referred to as spirit wandering. I like this idea of the dream world as another reality, accessible to the spirit through the medium of sleep. Those moments when we're drifting off kind of feel like traveling.

We can think of tarot as a chest of drawers. Closed on the surface, but full of an infinite telling of stories, of intimacies.

There is a sudden loneliness in the 4 of Cups, a loss of the easy joie de vivre shared by the group of women in the 3 of Cups. The others have left their cups behind and somehow we’ve assumed them as our own. This can literally signify others’ possessions, emotional baggage, or more figuratively, memories to which we can no longer connect, because we shared them with other people.

The 10 of Pentacles always reminds me of a hexagram from the Yi Jing (Book of Changes) translated as “Possession in Great Measure.” It’s a cryptic message because I often see this card (and the hexagram) appear in times that feel like just the opposite, when we find ourselves in an environment or situation that is not of our choosing.