The Importance of Rest & The Four of Swords

I've just gotten up and am sitting here typing at my computer, bleary-eyed and just two sips into my first cup of coffee. It's shockingly late for me to be getting started with my day since I'm usually aiming to be up by six. Now, at 8:45, I'd normally be starting along a familair narrative of pressure. "It's time to get started already!" But this morning I'm not.

Instead, I'm wrapped up in the bliss of my body. I feel good. I can feel the heaviness in my limbs that comes when we really let ourselves go and get a full eight hours of sleep. And, to be honest, that hasn't happened in a while. Maybe it's the upcoming eclipse and full moon, but I've been spending lots of time tossing and turning in bed. Is there anything more frustrating than not sleeping well when you're so, so tired?

Not last night, hallelujah! And I'm feeling so much better for it. But there's a funny ticker-tape of information that's coming along with my newfound relaxation, and I think it has a lot to do with our culture's anxiety about rest. And, as with most anxiety, it's scattered and somewhat illogical. But the message is this: "Now I'll have to start over again," and "I'm missing out."

In other words, when we rest we're loosing opportunities.

This reminds me of a book I read while working as a salesperson in a jewelry store. The place was teensy and, due to the high price point of the jewlery, frequently deserted. Because of this I had a) boatloads of spare time and b) immense pressure to convince one of the few customers fo buy something.

Enter: The Little Red Book of Sales. The owner pointed out this small book on the shelf and suggested I read it as soon as possible. "It'll teach you everything you need to know about being a salesperson," she said. 

Now, as you may have guessed, I have a slightly rebellious and stubborn streak. Especially towards pressure-filled, capitalist sales techniques. So I managed to avoid this book for a bit, until I ran out of things to polish, sweep, or rearrange. And then I dove in and, hoo boy, was it full of gems.

The most disturbing statement, one that's stuck with me ever since, was a section about gaining the advantage over competitors that, to paraphrase, argued, "While everyone's wasting time sleeping, you can get the upper hand by learning as much as you can about sales/your position/business!" 

So... don't sleep, you'll miss out. 

What a rough message! And this is where I (finally) tie in some tarot wisdom. Rest isn't just a frivolous waste of time. It's a precious, biologically necessary period to reset and regenerate physically while opening up our minds and spirits. And what tarot card could that reflect? Cue the Four of Swords!

I love this card because it integrates the mental acuity of the swords with slower-burning realizations that can only come when we lay back and rest. Known for being academic, rational, and even a little cold, the swords often get tied to the negative aspects of thinking. We get treated to the stabby heartbreak of the Three of Swords or the ruthless conflict of the Five. These are moments where words and thoughts hurt. 

But we can also have a tender and constructive relationship to our thoughts. They can be dreamy, ethereal, and poetic. They can bring us essential dimension and meaning. And, as the Four of Swords teaches us, we need space and rest and relaxation to invite these other forms of thought into our lives.

In the Rider-Waite-Smith image of the Four of Swords we see a figure laying down in a peaceful room. They're so peaceful, in fact, that they look almost dead. Light streams in from a beautiful stained glass window and three swords hand on the wall. These represent our conscious thoughts - things we're aware of and are now giving ourselves space to contemplate.

Yet there's another sword, hidden underneath the resting figure. This sword shows us how hidden information, realizations, and insights lie just below the surface.We need rest and repose for them to slowly bubble to the surface. Far from being a waste of time, sleep and other ways to recharge are utterly necessary to gain a true, embodied understanding of what's at work.

If we rely on the easily-identified facts of waking life to guide us we're ignoring deeper and more important truths. Why skim along the surface when we can both care for ourselves and tap into something deeper? 

Can I Be Rational and Get a Tarot Reading?

You may be surprised with how many clients I get who feel nervous around tarot because they consider themselves skeptic, highly rational, and intellectual. It's a common fear that as soon as we dip our toes into the woo-sphere we're somehow going to have our "rational human being" card revoked. Believe it or not, I can personally relate to this feeling.

I began reading tarot as a young and tender teenager. I had always been drawn to the spiritual, but after that experience began clashing with the very secular and intellectual world around me, I found myself reflexively scoffing at any and all things woo and mystical. In my mind, the two simply couldn't co-exist. Luckily, I've not only found that they can live together harmoniously, but that they're highly compatible as well.

One of the most healing, beautiful, and fascinating aspects of reading for others professionally is seeing people who have some of the same blocks around intellectualism and spirituality engage with the cards. Despite its occult background and evocative symbolism, tarot is, at its root, a remarkably effective tool for discovering and identifying patterns active in our lives. AKA tasks that are highly suited for rational problem solvers. 

I'm always so energized by clients who come in looking wary and anxiously at the cards. Once they realize that I don't require all new clients to sign a form declaring their undying belief in astral projection, fairies, and past lives, they start to relax. Many of them want to know the ins-and-outs of the system. How does it all work? Once they have a general feel for it, they often dive into the cards with zeal and uniquely piercing insight.

So often we place rigid boundaries around facets of ourselves that dont' do anyone or anything justice. Who says you can't be intellectual and spiritual at the same time? Who says we can't bring our seeking, discerning, and questioning selves to the table when we get a reading?

In fact, as I've discovered, tarot is a system where the spiritual and intellectual combine to an amazing effect. Of course, we don't even have to adhere to or resonate with any concept of "spirituality," but simply by engaging with the subjective world of the cards we open up our rigid definitions of thinking and problem-solving to richer input and fruitful exploration. 

So, to answer the question I posed in the title, yes, you can absolutely be rational and get a tarot reading or read tarot for yourself. Explore the cards and see how they open up new thoughts, insights, and realizations. Call on that pattern-seeking skill you're so adept at to look at your life from a wider vantage point. You'll be surprised at how much you can discover. 

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Feeling Tender around Spiritual Topics

I was sitting at a cafe the other day and found myself observing an unintentional social experiment. Across from me was a shelf of free books that people could take and read while at the shop. Amongst the books, many of which were by John Gresham, was a happy-looking, yellow volume on Astrology. As people stood by the counter waiting for their coffee they'd pick up one of the books for a quick browse. By far, the most popular was the book on astrology.

Each time I looked up I saw a different man pick up the book. One even brought it to the table to give it a quick perusal. All of them had a sheepish, furtive look to them, as if they were loathe to be seen in public appearing interested in astrology. As soon as they saw me looking, they put it away. 

I see a similar phenomenon when I read tarot at larger public events. People will walk by my table, looking over at me shyly. A lot of people feel nervous when approaching anything that could be percieved as "woo woo" or esoteric. It's understandable and I've been there before. We're swimming in a society that values the rational above all else. Expressing interest in something that's not 100% cut-and-dry makes us feel open to ridicule. 

And yet we're still interested. We feel drawn to pick up a book even if we'll put it down quickly if someone notices. Or to read our horoscopes, even seek out a tarot reading. I can't tell you how many times I've been offering readings in public to have someone sit down before me and immediately proclaim, "I don't believe in this." I always have to laugh to myself (internally and subtly, of course) because despite this loud proclamation of disbelieve, there they are, sitting across from a tarot reader, cash in hand.

All this makes me think of the poster behind Agent Mulder's desk in the X-Files that reads, "I Want to Believe." As we can all vouch for, life is a strange, delightful, and confusing experience. We all have personal knowledge of its mysterious nature, things that tell us not all meaning lives on the surface of our lives. There's things we don't know, dreams and mysteries to explore. 

Unfortunately, there aren't as many avenues to express the joyous and confounding mysteries of life. And I think we miss it. We miss ways to tap into what we don't know, to engage with our love of symbols, stories, and signs. So I can't begrudge anyone their nervousness and justificaitons around esoteric practices like tarot and astrology. I've been there myself - despite being a deeply spiritual person in practice and belief, I found myself broadcasting a hyper-rational and intellectual persona because I felt vulnerable appearing spiritual.

Sometimes the word "spiritual" can feel so general it's overwhelming. "If I read tarot does that mean I believe in spirit guides/reincarnation/ghosts etc.?" Again, I think that because we've neglected this important part of humanity in our current society, all these beliefs have been unfortunately lumped under one big, broad term. To answer clearly, no. Reading tarot doesn't require any adherence to a school of thought, religion, or dogma. That's why I love it so much. Sure, it combines well with all of the above, but at it's purest, tarot is simply a tool with which we can explore what's not immediately visible to us. 

So I have a great deal of empathy for anyone feeling anxious about dipping their toes into the "woo pool." No, getting a tarot reader doesn't make you anything other than a person curious about examining their life creatively and, if you're comfortable with the term, spiritually. I welcome anyone to my tarot table, wherever they're at in their journey. Tenderness and all.

Does Tarot Have to be Serious?

You're probably already guessing where I'm going with this post judging by the photo to the left.

What I love most about tarot is it's skill at probing into deep issues, but that doesn't mean that I'm all frowns and furrowed brows when I turn over the cards. (Though I do think that would lend me some imposing gravitas!)

I think that approaching readings with excessive seriousness dampens the cards' insightful power. It's like putting a concrete box over a budding garden. Wanting to seem serious over letting the cards speak for themselves can cut off the conversation before its even started.

Tarot can be intimidating, especially when you're just starting out. It carries a lot of esoteric history that can be tough to navigate, not to mention the many myths surrounding the cards. (Can we just all agree that nobody has to be gifted their first tarot deck? Talk about limiting!) 

If our idea of tarot starts with a fortune teller's parlor, shrouded with mystery and draped tapestries, it can be scary to look at tarot as a more casual and fun tool. Will we be cursed? Will we anger the cards? (Short, definitive answer: no.) I'd like to stress that tarot is a tool - its power comes from us. How we approach it, how we practice it, and how we interact with it. 

Sure, if we approach tarot with... how to put it? douchey?... energy it's no good. But I think the idea of starting with respectful intentions leaves plenty of room for all types of experiences and that includes the fun ones, too.

I've read tarot for breakups, I've also read tarot when deciding what to cook for a dinner party. Each was enriching and illuminating. (Fun fact: the card I got for the dinner party question was the three of swords and I immediately burst out laughing. I have the terrible habit of taking on overly ambitious cooking projects and then melting into a frazzled puddle halfway through a three tiered cake. Thanks for seeing me, tarot - I'm working on it.)

My main point here is to have fun with tarot readings! Let your curiosity and creativity guide you. As someone with a tendency to do big, spiritually probing readings for myself, opening up to quicker, lighthearted readings has greatly helped me understand another side to the cards. Laugh during your readings if you feel the urge, explore the light side of things along with the dark, and don't forget to ask the cards for low-stakes advice as well as guidance during tough times. 

Tarot & Community: The First Tarot Club Meeting

As a beginner I had a very solitary practice; it wasn't until I read for others that a lot of the depth and nuance of the cards were revealed to me. After seeing this same need in my tarot classes (the reading swaps were the most enlightening and active) I decided to start a free group where we could do just that. I called it The Tarot Club a) because it sounded fun and alluring and b) because I wanted to intentionally create an inclusive space where the only requirement for membership was enthusiasm and interest. The special space of a club without exclusivity if you will. 

I had to take a day or so to process the magic and insight from our first tarot club meeting. It was a beautiful coming together of tarot enthusiasts of all stripes. In all honesty, I didn't have a clear idea of what shape the first meeting would take. I like to let things unfold in the moment, dictated by the curiosity and needs of the group. You could say I'm allergic to hierarchy. I wanted The Tarot Club to be a truly community driven space where anyone who shows up is a co-creator and co-learner. I simply offer the space (and a little light refreshment.)

I truly believe we are our own best teachers; when we can come together as a group we get a beautiful array of teachers with their own unique insights and wisdom. Setting the intention and then stepping back to let it unfold is an amazing thing, indeed!

So what happened? It was cozy, supportive, and quite surprising. We began with casual snacking and catching up, and maybe a little rosé, after which we chatted about our recent tarot experiences.

Next we dove into readings. Led by a question from one of our lovely participants, we began with a group reading where each of us chose a deck (I had a large chunk of my collection out, plus decks brought by others) and shuffled the cards with our question in mind. We decided to do a reading on the struggles unfolding in the wake of the Weinstein scandal and subsequent reveleations about sexual assault, harassment, and abuse perpetrated by men in power. Yes, go big or go home! What could we do to work with this energy to effect lasting change and how could we deal with well-meaning supporters unaware of their contributions to these issues?

As we each pulled a card and read it together we drew deeper and deeper into the trancelike state I access during readings. It was a powerful experience to travel to this place with a group and the experience was, quite honestly, magical. I'm still digesting it and the potential and healing power of community tarot readings. I'm excited to find new ways to facilitate similar experiences. 

Afterwards we broke up and swapped readings, trying out new decks, troubleshooting issues, and experimenting with different decks. In between it all was lots of tea, wine, catching up, and laughter. It was a beautiful night of tarot and community - very three of cups! - that had me glowing afterwards and full of new ideas for the next meeting.

If you're in the Raleigh-Durham area I hope you'll join us next time (the third Thursday of each month from 6-8). No matter your tarot level, we'd love to have you and your insights! To learn more click here or RSVP for future meetings here. 

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Tarot & Intuition

Well, this is a classic moment. I'm in the middle of creating a new course and booklet on intuitive tarot reading and... I'm procrastinating. But it's not so bad if I'm procrastinating by writing a blog post, right?

I hope so, so here I am! Intuition has been on my mind a lot recently. Aside from the work aspect, it's a facet of myself that I call on every day to guide my decisions. I'm also finding that the longer I read tarot the clearer it becomes to me that I am a deeply intuitive reader.

What do I mean when I say this? What is an intuitive tarot reader?

When I look at the cards in front of me I read on two levels. The first is what's on the table itself, the connections between the card meanings, symbols, colors, and more. Aka all the wonderful, rich information we encounter when we learn tarot. The cards are the letters of a language and, when laid out together, they form words. So that covers the tarot reader part of my identity.

The second level is where things get interesting. When I first started reading I was a very by the books teenager. Quite literally, in fact. I was constantly referring to my dog-eared copy of Joan Bunning's Learning the Tarot (FYI you can read it for free here) for every card. I was orderly, disciplined, and a bit unimaginative. 

Over time I strengthened my ability to read between the cards, paying attention to the feelings they brought up, the images and thoughts that emerged from somewhere other than my internalized dictionary of card meanings. At first it was an odd sensation that I doubted a lot. It was too woo! Not at all quantifiable! I was just making things up!

Interestingly, reading for other people was instrumental in snapping me out of these limiting beliefs. Reading someone else's cards is a vulnerable exercise that takes an initial leap of faith. Trusting in the cards, we have to remind ourself that they have an important message made just for the person receiving the reading. It's our job as tarot readers (and this goes for professionals and laypeople alike) to deliver this message without ego, manipulation, or confusion. This means getting out of our own way and letting our intuition sing. 

And as we all know, tarot readings are innately magical and expressive. Imagine listing off card meanings and correspondences in a robotic monotone. It's no good at all! I quickly jumped into the in the moment magic of tarot when I "went public." To my surprise, the information that came from "between the cards," otherwise known as my intuition, was often greeted the most warmly. I was forced to wrestle with the fact that this information was resonating with my clients whether I believed in it or not. 

So I dove in headfirst in an attempt to get to know this side of myself better. What did it feel like when information came through my intuition? What could I do to cultivate it and encourage it in readings? What if it didn't show up at all?

These questions have led to some beautiful realizations. In a way, intuition is a lot like a fingerprint. We each have our own unique configuration and there's a rich adventure waiting for those who want to take the path.

I've learned a lot over the years when it comes to my own intuition, and I believe that we all have unique and worthwhile relationships to pursue with this often misunderstood and devalued source of wisdom. I'm looking forward to exploring it more here on the blog and via classes. Stay tuned for updates, and please chime in with your thoughts below. What do you think about the idea of intuition? How would you define it and how do you think it plays a role in your tarot readings?

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Notes from a Tarot Reader: The Eight of Cups, Pigeons, and Change

As many of you know I have a pet pigeon named Pearl. She's a fascinating creature. When I first met her she was a ridiculous ball of puff, confused and suspicious about her new surroundings. Since then, I've had the treat and privilege of learning other shapes she takes: the elongated posture of curiosity, her contented scrunch, and a splay-winged flop when she sunbathes. As we spend more and more time together she reveals new facets of herself.

The latest has been in turns messy, hilarious, and fascinating. It's molting season!

One thing I love about animals is that they're unapologetically themselves. In late summer I noticed Pearl getting grumpier and grumpier. Although she's no shrinking daisy (this pigeon has good boundaries!) she was being particularly salty. Wing-slaps, angry cooing, and hissing pecks came my way whenever I approached. And then the next day when I looked into her cage I saw what looked like a whole bird's worth of feathers.

Since then Pearl has gone through three bouts of moulting. Each has the same pattern: grumpiness, an insatiable appetite for birdseed, and a cascade of feathers. Next, tender new feathers start emerging and Pearl gets sleepy, conserving her energy as she grows. 

The whole process has been beautiful to observe and it has had me thinking a lot about the painful, prickly, and transformative nature of change. I think sometimes we look at the proces as levelling-up, complete with its video-game simplicity. Looking at Pearl, however, I saw how change is gradual and comes in phases. Most importantly, it's a challenging process. Our new feathers feel prickly and itchy, we feel vulnerable, and as we shed what's old there's a time in between when we're left exposed and unsure. We have to trust the process.

Because I'm a tarot reader, I just had to ask myself which tarot cards represent this type of change. Not the cataclysmic type, brought on by outside forces, as shown in The Tarot. As I shuffled through my deck, it dawned on me - the Eight of Cups. 

Oh, how I love this card. It's poetic, mysterious, and a bit unnerving, a cloaked figure moving away from eight upturned cups heading along the start of a rocky mountain pass. Why are they undertaking this journey? The cups behind them are upright and plentiful, surely enough to satisfy their needs, and the road ahead looks bumpy and uncertain. Yet there's a sense of peace there as well, an idea that the natural time has come to move on and that the journey will be worth it. 

Here the idea of moulting, of change, shows up as a natural impulse - an inner call we must heed as we shed what once worked and now is not enough. Who wants to be burdened with old, ratty feathers that are good enough, sure, but far from ideal. Should we abandon change simply because it will be difficult and, at times, painful?

I see this as the moments we all know so well, times when we're called to move on and we're not sure why, only that it feels deeply necessary. Like moulting, it's a primal and natural process. It's part of who we are. 

Looking over at my grumpy pigeon I realize that not questioning these impulses frees us to experience them for what they are and to care for ourselves the best we know how. Pearl certainly doesn't apologize for the fact that she needs extra alone time and much more birdseed when she's shedding her feathers. She certainly doesn't apologize for needing her space as I've learned from several decisive pecks. 

While we don't have to go around wing slapping our friends and family when we're in the process of shedding old ideas, beliefs, or relationships, I think it's important to make room for our own moulting process. Getting to know our needs a we embark on the brave process of change is tender and beautiful. We can give ourself the gift of what we need, making room for time to heal, reflect, and grow. Our reward? A majestic new set of feathers and a greater understanding of who we truly are. 

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Notes from a Tarot Reader: On Balance and Harmony

I have a fantasy schedule for my balanced life. It involves me waking up every morning at 5:30. After a mindful and luxurious shower I go downstairs to meditate peacefully for half an hour. After that, it's a cup of herbal tea and a stroll around my garden. Next I take a brisk walk with my dogs, perferably by the lake near my house. When I return, it's a healthy breakfast, some light stretching and into the studio for work. That's just the morning.

In the afternoon I'll take two hours for undistracted writing followed by some stretching and then some office work. A quick lunch breaks the day in half, after which I'll dive into the tarot realm until 5:30. Time for a yoga class, art, a home cooked meal, and some light socializing. Oh, an time with my partner, gardening, maybe some reading. Err... it's looking a little crowded already. That's not accounting for the less glamorous tasks - meetings, chores, and anything unexpected. It must still be doable, right?

This scheudle haunts me.

I've written it down (and others like it) before, and that's usually where it stays - on paper. It then floats around in my head, taunting me while my day goes in complely different directions. Isn't balance all about precision? Carefully metering out time so that we can get it all done? Why, then, does making lists and schedules fill me with dread and pressure?

I've been thinking a lot lately about how we embrace the idea of balance, wrapping it in gauzy platitudes and inspirational quotes, while setting off to obtain it like ruthless (and organized) businessmen. It doesn't quite add up, does it?

There's a whole industry built up around it our idea of balance. Planners, productivity apps, books on self-care, and schmancy yoga pants... They all lure me in with their siren songs of "once you get this, all the effort of achieving a balanced life will fall away!" How could I have known I needed a special motivational date book with hand lettered quotes to unlock my true potential?

And yet even after I get the new meditation app, the eco-friendly glass water bottle, the pass to the yoga studio down the street... I still have to use it. Consistently. Day after day. I have to do the work to squeeze it in somewhere, to make the time. 

This is why I have an issue with the way we fetishize balance. Often it's at the expense of its complexity. We gravitate towards the list making and measuring, forgetting that balance is a process and not an end goal. It's not the idea itself that's problematic, but how we use it.

So while my aims are pure when I set out to create my ideal schedule, my ego hijacks the whole process, boiling everything down into success or failue. This way, when something sets my schedule off course (which, surprise, happens frequnetly) I get a sinking feeling of anxiety. How could I mess us something so simple as a 6am yoga session?! I'm not on track anymore and my self worth takes a hit.

And just where is my "self" when I get sucked into the rat race of fake balance? Instead of focusing my scheudle around myself - what I want, how I feel, what brings joy and value to my life - I focus it on externals. It's almost as if someone is watching me, patting me on the back when I complete a task or judging me when I go off the rails. 

Maybe there's something about the measureable nature of balance that makes it prone to our desire for control. If we can just get the timing down right, if we can just fit everything in it'll all be okay. We'll be okay. 

Maybe this is why whenever I try to live out my idea of a balanced life I get a feeling of dread. It's just a lot of pressure. And, to be frank, I'm not the kind of person who likes to live in a strictly regimented way. To me it stifles the zany spontenaeity I need to feel alive and inspired. I get bored and put off doing what I actually care about. Walking the dogs seems like a chore, writing even more so, and even a self-care ritual can seem daunting and overly elaborate. That's no way to live!

What's the alternative then? Do we scrap balance and move on? I'm realizing that in theory I love the idea of balance, but in practice my mind latches onto it in a very unhealthy way. 

Instead, I'm trying to focus on harmony as my guiding principal. Like balance, harmony is constantly shifting, but unlike balance it focuses on multiple parts working beautifully in conjunction with each other, a chorus of different thoughts, actions, and feelings adding up to something more than the sum of its parts. 

For me a harmonious life depends on adapting my goals to what mood I'm in or whatever needs to be done most on any given day. If I'm sad, no big deal, maybe I need to sleep in a little later than usual, do some gentle yoga and cathartic journalling. I can keep social appointments to a minimum, and use the time to do more solitary office work.

Being in harmony with myself forces me to be mindful at all times. I have to know how I'm feeling or what's interesting me to direct myself where i need to go. 

In this model, I don't have to love everything I do, just be aware that I'm making the choice to do them because they add up to something important. I find it much more empowering than setting up a list as if I'm giving myself homework.

I get to be an intrepid and dedicated adventurer instead of a scrambling worker and it feels so much more freeing and organic. Now that's the way I want to live and be in the world. 

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An Update from Durham, NC

Well, my peaches, it's been quiet over here for a while now. Where have I gone to? Am I coming back?

Yes, yes I am. Here I am!

It's been a busy time of transition for me any my family and when I find myself making big changes I often need to hermit myself away, letting everything fall back into place slowly.

What's this big change you might ask? Just last week me, my darling partner, our two hounds and one pigeon picked up all our belongings and moved into our first real home.

We bought a house! It's been quite the process full of ridculous searching during which I almost convinced myself I could live behind a Red Lobster. At the end of it all we stumbled upon a house so dreamy that I'm having a hard time waking up and accepting that it's real and it's really ours. 

Change takes a long, long time to settle in for me. Until then I walk around in a daze wondering "did that really happen?" and "am I really here?" When I get in this state I develop a near-total allergy to social media. With all the adjusting going on, I like to focus on the life right in front of me and spending time on Instagram just makes me feel disconnected from myself. 

Additionally, I have to get all philosophical about things. For example, can anyone explain the concept of ownership to me? It seems both abstract and pushy. Like can I really walk up to a tree and say "this is my tree. I own it." That just seems rude.

In any case, I'm now here, in Durham, North Carolina coming to terms with the fact that I am a very lucky, happy homeowner. And I'm excited to emerge from my phase of homebuying hustle and bustle to jump back into the world of Incandescent Tarot, energized and inspired.

Moving has a weird way of not only shifting your geographic perspective, but your mental perspective as well. My brain is being jostled in new directions and I have lots of new plans and projects that I'll be unveiling in the months to come. 

Above it all, however, I'm excited to reenter my practice with tarot. One can only do so many real estate themed readings, and I'm so eager to reconnect with my deep tie to tarot and share it with you too. 

Yes, the pond is swimmable!

Pearl figured out how to climb the stairs. Smart girl!

Oh, and you might be curious to know where I've actually landed! It's been quite the lifestyle change. We managed to find a little slice of nature and solitude within the Durham city limits. We're now happy stewards (much better and more respectful than "owners," I think!) of over 2 acres of wooded land, 1/3 of which is a lovely pond. So far we've seen herons, fish, frogs, and even an owl which came to welcome us on our first night here. 

I grew up in the country (our front yard was 17 acres!) so this is a lovely return to my roots. I didn't realize how much I missed being around green and wildness until we found this house.  Our dogs are having the times of their lives, even Sammy, my mysteriously lethargic border collie mix. And Pearl the pigeon is enjoying having a bigger house to strut around in. 

And excitingly enough, I now have a wonderful workspace upgrade with lots of room to offer my clients tarot readings in an even more magical setting than before. I"m looking forward to sharing more with you in the days to come. Until then, it's back to lots of painting and unpacking. And don't worry, I'll be back online from here on out :)
 

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