It’s an ending with a whole new beginning wrapped up in its promise. The cycles are strong and

we make choices as we trudge through them. Some good choices, some bad, but we’re all a part of each others stories, and connected. Know thyself.

People are so scared of change and letting go of the past, but it’s time. We have a whole new world to midwife into existence and it can be so beautiful if we just allow it.

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“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” - Martin Luther (the) King. It bends that way because it’s a universal law of nature, not a law of man. Anybody who said Justice (or nature for that matter) comes easy, is selling you something. Protect your people. Love them more. Keep shining. ☀️ And like the figure represented in the world card, the 22nd major, dance. 💃🏻 🕺🏻

See you on the dance floor. 🪩

Key XXI - The World: The Great One of the Night of Time.
pairs well with Paulo Coelho

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ICE OUT!!!

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Key XVII - The Star: Daughter of the Firmament / Dweller Between the Waters
pairs well with D.H. Lawrence
Key XVIII - The Moon: Ruler of the Flux and Reflux / Child of the Sons of the Mighty
pairs well with Oscar Wilde
Key XIX - The Sun: Lord of the Fire of The World
pairs well with Robert Herrick
Key XX - Judgement: Spirit of the Primal Fire
pairs well with Charles Bukowski

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Key XIII - Death: Child of the Great Transformers / Lord of the Gate of Death
pairs well with Alexandre Dumas
Key XIV - Temperance: Daughter of the Reconcilers / Bringer Forth of Life
pairs well with Louisa May Alcott
Key XV - The Devil: Lord of the Gates of Matter / Child of the Forces of Time
pairs well with Oscar Wilde (one of my favorite quotes of all time.)
Key XVI - The Tower: Lord of the Hosts of the Mighty
pairs well with Mary Shelley

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Chuck’s thesis goes a little something like this; People have hyper-romanticized their potential love lives due to the massive influence of media at large. He’s not totally wrong, and he doesn’t lay it solely at the feet of our collective everyman hero Lloyd Dobbler but he certainly does name names and cast some aspersions. He also includes musical influences, like Coldplay. And while I accept these observations and am willing to bat them around in my mind like a kitty with their favorite new catnip-infused toy, there is a Godzilla-Sized hole here, and it’s simple; So, what? (music nerd moment that becomes relevant in precisely one sentence from now: The album from which the song, “In Your Eyes,” originates is called, “So.”)

In fairness, and to his point, Peter Gabriel’s, “In Your Eyes,” has woven itself into the fabric of my cellular makeup (told ya). That’s what art is supposed to do. It moves us, inspires us, it changes our lives even if it’s only on a small scale sometimes. When I hear, “In Your Eyes,” the world around me mutes. Suddenly I’m romanticizing everything! I go to a place where I’m either loving or being loved by a pure soul who wants nothing more than to mirror integrity and love and greatness. That’s incredibly powerful stuff. The combination of a moving picture and a song that I watched and re-watched for years can completely rip me from the grotesque reality of The United States in 2026, and dump me into this fantasy that both soothes, and invigorates me. Magic*.

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So, let’s dig deeper and bring this theory into the 2020’s, shall we? There was no, “manosphere,” in 2003. Tradwives at that time were relegated to fundamentalist freak show status and nobody would fathom that cosplaying one on iPhone apps would be a potential vocation choice. In fact, iPhones, were four years away from even being introduced to the public at this time. I don’t think Chuck’s thoughts were intended to be malicious by any stretch of the imagination, but I do believe that an extrapolation would have been a fun thought experiment at the time, and I never got that chance. Which leads me here to ask the ever-pressing question I’ve longed to hear the answer to since 2003; “So, what?”

So, what if I want to be loved by a partner who’s an aspiring kickboxer and has a massive aversion to the corporate slog of life? So, what if I want a partner who is kind, and silly, and moderately poetic in a phone booth while it’s raining? “I gave her my heart and she gave me a pen!” Is that threatening? Is it hard to be nice? Is having an expectation of a romantic partner too much to ask? What is the impetus amongst men that makes them so reluctant to be kind and generous to the people they claim to like or, (alpha-gods-be-damned), love? Is it beta to show your partner affection? I’m sure there’s a mega-fan out there who HAS asked that her partner, or potential partner, stand outside with a boombox, trench-coated, blasting Peter Gabriel into her window, (for nerd accuracy I am obliged to add: This was the window of Diane Court’s father’s fraudulent nursing home, btw, not her bedroom.), but for most of the population, we don’t want a carbon copy. What we want is the effort. We simply want someone who gives enough of a shit to go out of their way to let us know that we matter in their lives and if that’s asking too much, the male loneliness epidemic suddenly makes a lot more sense, doesn’t it?

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In 2003, I read Chuck’s theory and thought it was clever. I could see how it might be a drain on men to have this lofty expectation of an idealized naturally romantic and artistic man, who lest we forget, is also an athlete, over their heads. But by the same token, we’re women. We’re built of empathy and have layers upon layers of empathy-adjacent characteristics conditioned into us our whole lives. We are trained to excuse bad behavior by our male counterparts from birth. “Boys will be boys,” y’all. This conditioning also contributes to why I didn’t question this more deeply upon first read. I didn’t need the assist, Chuck. I was already sympathetic. Then I started to notice the men I knew who read Chuck’s work were feeling legitimized in being soft, selfish, apathetic, unsympathetic loaves of men, whose wry smiles received an injection of emboldened - albeit quiet at the time - smugness, and we have the origin story of my beef.

What is it fellas? Why is it so hard to be nice? The only thing I could think of, initially was the frailty of a bruised ego. Which I will admit, is no small thing, but is that all you got? Is it because your friends might make fun of you? Have you ever played out that scenario in your head? Because here’s how I see it:

You, (the man I’m speaking to right now), go out of your way to do something nice for a woman. It can go one of two ways. The first, she’s receptive. That just sounds like a bold-move-win if you ask me. Happy Days! The less savory path being she isn’t, in fact, receptive. Then what? And it all comes back to; who cares? You shot your shot, right? You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.

I’m still at a loss to identify where the problem lies. Have you become so risk averse that the mere thought of someone’s agency not aligning with your wishes is so terrifying, that it will catapult the kindness straight out of you? I thought that in engaging with you we were dealing with the strong ones? Potential rejection doesn’t change the fact that you saw the thing you wanted, and you went after it, respectfully. You still did the damn thing and that’s worthy of admiration. Any clowns mockery isn’t worthy of you owning said mockery. Who has time or energy in 2026 to mock someone for trying to get what they want with sincerity and confidence? Is it a control thing? You must be in control of everything and how things play out? Again, why? None of us can control the outcomes when it involves the agency of another party.

These are all questions we need to be aware of and asking ourselves, rather than succumbing to the projected pain hurled by the loudest dolt who might have a sick burn he’s been working on for weeks, because here’s the thing; Earnestness is hot. Plain and simple. It might not always get you what you want but being honest and making the effort is undeniably sexy and desirable. And getting what you want? Even hotter! You can’t control chemistry. There’s no way to guarantee that just because you try, you will get. But without trying you will certainly miss, and even if her bar is set so low that you fortunately snag her without trying, wait until your buddy slides into her DM’s just to prove he can. We can’t control outcomes, and that’s the entire point. That’s what makes life interesting and dynamic and worthwhile.

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So, no, Chuck Klosterman, as much as I do love a good brain tickling, I will respectfully not allow the cynicism of 2003 to destroy my desire for a good, honorable, fun partner, who goes the extra mile to make me feel special. Which for the record, I would LOVE to be able to feel seen enough to reciprocate. And I won’t apologize for not only desiring, but demanding romance in my life. We sometimes forget that Lloyd Dobbler was a borderline unemployable aspiring KICKBOXER! In the parlance of those times, he was a devout slacker! And somehow, Mr. Klosterman managed to frame even that bar as too high. Lovable Lloyd was a precursor to the MMA hyper masculine mean boys who fetishize cruelty. Who’d’a thunk it? Loving something incredibly deeply, to the point that you feel sick over it isn’t weakness, it’s the most courageous and honorable thing a person can do. Too bad there’s a sizable faction of the population who are so scared of it, they’ll physically harm themselves, each other, and oftentimes engage in criminal activity against women rather than simply face themselves and ask questions like, “Why can’t I just be nice? What’s holding me back?” Because I promise, it’s not women writ large.

*“In Your Eyes,” would be in the very top echelon of options for holding the position of Kate Bush’s, “Running Up That Hill,” that Max survives on in “Stranger Things.” Truth be told, it’s probably “Love My Way,” by The Psychedelic Furs, but for the purposes of this writing, I’ll allow some runners-up – no pun intended.

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Key IX - The Hermit: Magus of the Voice of Power / Prophet of the Eternal
pairs well with Emily Brontë
Key X - The Wheel of Fortune: Lord of the Forces of Life
pairs well with D.H. Lawrence
Key XI - Justice: Daughter of the Lords of Truth / Ruler of the Balance
pairs well with Emily Brontë
Key XII - The Hanged Man: Spirit of the Mighty Waters
pairs well with Alexandre Dumas

Key V - The Hierophant: Magus of the Eternal
pairs well with Alexandre Dumas
Key VI - The Lovers: Children of the Voice / Oracle of the Mighty Gods
pairs well with Victor Hugo
Key VII - The Chariot: Child of the Power of the Waters / Lord of the Tripumph of Light
pairs well with Lord Byron
Key VIII - Strength: Daughter of the Flaming Sword
pairs well with Louisa May Alcott

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Say Hi!

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I’ve been enjoying reading physical books a lot lately. After spending years working intimately with the tarot I couldn’t help but see the cards visually when I came across certain passages. It would appear that tarot has integrated into my base layer of awareness. As a result I’ve decided to share some associations I’ve made. If this is something that happens to you as well, please, do share! I’d love to hear a variety of perspectives.

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Starting at the start:

Let’s try it. 2026, for example, would be 2+0+2+6, which equals 10. Could we use 10 in tarot? Sure, and there would be nothing wrong with that. In most circles I’ve come across however, potency is paramount, so we further reduce. Why leave it at 10, when you can add 1 and 0, resulting in the number 1? That’s about as potent, or dense a number I can think of. And in the tarot, the number 1, brings us to Key I, The Magician.

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There are several things that I could say about this card. But for the purposes of offering something to the collective that can be of use, I’m going to keep it simple. I always say, “another way to say simple is to replace it with potent.” And here we are, keeping it potent. The magician is about many things, reciprocity, love, passion, purity of intent, elements, tools, as above so below, but the thing I want you to take with you throughout the course of 2026, is the word, “competence.” Above all, The Magician is competent. The figure has full understanding of what they’re working with and explicit agency to do as they wish. There is no doubt; Self, or otherwise.

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2025 was the year of The Hermit. I had a lot of thoughts about that, which I share here via images I posted on Instagram around this time, last year. But primarily, the word of 2025 was, “refinement.” Refinement as in going inward and refining the self amongst the chaos. Those of you out there who found yourself doing such; Curating that inner space and getting to know thyself a bit better, will have everything within grasp to seize the days ahead in 2026. All the tools to do what you Will, will be available to you and you will be competent in wielding them. Those of you who did not, will have some catching up to do, but not all is lost. Every day is a new opportunity to engage in a way that’s right for you and your highest good.

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Occult thought leaders for years have said that magic is something of the intersection of Imagination and Will. The important thing to remember about your Will, is that you need to know yourself completely and have agency over every part of yourself before you can adequately direct said will. I hope for all of us, that we find a way to know and understand ourselves on such an intimate level that we can each express the workings of our Imagination through earnest and developed Will for the greatest good and highest purpose.

With harm to none.
Free Palestine!
Free the hunger strikers!
Free Ukraine!
Believe Women!
May all people experience peace.

Merry Christmas!

I say that because it’s what I celebrate and I wish you joy and ease, but if you celebrate anything else; Happy Holidays, Seasons Greetings, etc., Go. Love.

Welcome 2026!

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Moving on, or at least trying to, I pulled a card for today. I asked, “What do I need to observe and dissect?” This is what I pulled:

I am intentionally sticking to the minimal nature of the Marseille decks (even if I’m not in love with the particular printing) and I’m really enjoying when I pull the pips (small cards). There’s so much room for play and personal interpretation. Today we got the 2 of coins. Upon first glance, I’m taken by the obvious symmetry and flow of the image. But my eye was so drawn to the leaves and flowers emanating from the ends of the flowing spiral that’s couching the coins.

Clearly, I am influenced by my earlier listening of Lily’s scorching record where she verbally eviscerates her ex-husband, but those red leaves look like tongues to me. Sassy-ass tongues, ready to spit fire. There are so many references to elements and equilibrium in this card, but those little red tongues herald a warning: There will be deviations!

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This is where being familiar with multiple lineages and practices comes in handy. The major arcana of the tarot are associated with Hebrew letters of the Alef Beit. In the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn lineage where the Rider Waite Smith deck and it’s descendants reign supreme, the letter Peh, corresponds to The Tower card. Some call it the Fallen Tower, a correlation to the Tower of Babylon wouldn’t be off base. It is generally a card of strife, sudden crisis, destruction, and major challenge. The tower falls due to inadequate attention to the foundation. In Hebrew, Peh means mouth, and is generally symbolic of speech, communication, and expression. Mouth, as in, where a wagging tongue might reside. To connect all those dots the card whose meaning is associated with destruction and sudden crisis, corresponds to the mouth, speech, and expression. Interesting, no?

These little tongues remind me of several things.

• licking

• speaking

• kissing

• eating

• imbibing

• regurgitating

• blowing raspberries

• singing

So many potentially messy actions, and still, the card is so balanced.

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The expression of oneself can not be stifled. The most base parts of us, if earnest, will manifest whether you express them or not. And this is universally true. If we apply this to Lily’s epic mic drop of a record, this applies both to her cheating dog of a husband, AND Lily herself. Should he have been a stand up guy about it and in a worst case scenario leave the relationship to avoid cheating? Absolutely yes. But for whatever reason, he was unable to be honest with her. (peh). He gave in to his baser instincts, and used his mouth (peh) in ways that definitely came back to bite him (peh). He couldn’t suppress his sexual expression (also peh). Yes, I’m being kinder than I need to be, but it’s to make a point. On the other hand, there was zero chance that Lily was going to be able to let that go without spitting fire (most definitely, peh) into a microphone built to share this story.

No matter, balance will always prevail. You may inflict damage. You may hurt yourself and / or others, but causality will always find it’s way into the conversation (peh). Peh, the mouth, can be a volatile tool of destruction, but don’t sleep on the fact that what might be getting demolished is oneself.

These tongues in leaves clothing are savage little reminders that 1, suppressing our truths is actually impossible. And 2, even if you speak up and let it rip (a la Lily) there will always be a pendulum swing. Be prepared, not scared. Being wrong is okay as long as you’re willing to take your medicine when it’s called for. Mistakes are lessons. Learn. Stay curious. But above all, be so for real. The Universe will always support the organic.

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Should it tickle your fancy or your brainbox, some prompts.

Prompt 1: What am I holding back? What am I too scared to share? Is the fear (also a Lily Allen song) justified? What am I *actually* scared of?

Prompt 2: In what areas of my life does my mouth get me in trouble? In what areas does my mouth help? Are these aspects balanced? Is one more active than the other?

Have a beautiful week, friends!

-She Said With Love

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A teeny bit of history; The original 1930 Tarot de Marseille* was a revival of Nicolas Conver’s Tarot de Marseille, (originally printed in 1760), by Paul Marteau who was the director of the Grimaud company. The printing of the Grimaud deck did in fact, take place in 1930. The deck I have, is a reprint of the 1930 deck which was an interpretation of the 1760 deck. Phew, hopefully that made some sense. Unfortunately the events of WWII ground the production of the original 1930 deck to a halt. I love the Grimaud version from 1930 and can’t find a version of it that won’t send me down a deck purchasing rabbit hole I might never financially recover from, so I bought the reprint. My feelings are mixed at best.

In that post I made clear that the stars of the show for me were the hands. Also noting that one of the central figure’s hands, was behind the figure on his left, our right. I left out two things however; The first was that, the figure on the right (from our vantage-point) looks to have very twisted arms or some form of double jointedness that I am not yet familiar with. I left it out because I figured it could be chocked up to artistic license or a simple mistake. The second omission was one that kicked me in the chin the second I slammed my laptop shut and looked at the card left sitting in front of me one last time before closing down my deck. Why does this person have bare feet? Really folks? We’re toiling over a shoeless human?

Today, I was researching more Marseille decks, and I found this!

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Now, hold on a sec! What?!? The same card from a deck that predates the deck I own by over 250 years resolves both issues??? First, the hands belong to different people and second, our guy has shoes! This card is from the 1672 Francois Chosson Tarot. I don’t have a copy of the 1760 Conver deck, but I have tried to find a digital version to see from whence this arm switcheroo came. I do have a copy of another reproduction of that deck called the CBD (Conver Ben Dov) Tarot de Marseille, and while the central figure has located footwear, the arms are back to making no sense (see image at the bottom). I only include the CBD TdM example to be thorough, but it’s getting a little into the weeds and beside the point. The reason I am writing any of this is to illustrate how small differences in artwork can change up the flavor of a reading significantly.

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In the 1672 printing, (2nd image), it looks like both the central figure and the figure to his left (our right) are holding each other back. As if the two of them, for perhaps different reasons, are ready to rumble with the third figure. It evokes intrigue. What happened? Is she going to need someone to hold her earrings? It’s very, “The Real Housewives of Villages de Marseille.” In the 1930 reprint, (1st image), emotions seem a bit more muted.

Knowing myself, and my practice, I would read these two cards differently. There are myriad ways in which it could be interpreted and the question would matter more than anything, but here’s an example of how this could be read differently. Remember, there is no one answer, ever.

If a querent asked me what they should do about their current partner and I pulled “The Lover” (the shoeless fella, and our double-jointed wonder) from the 1930 deck that I own, I’d say, “dump ‘em. Life’s too short for a person who can’t be bothered with shoes. Why aren’t they wearing them? Is this a case of lack of hygiene? Has someone’s hand (or something else) been unexpectedly caught in the cookie jar (or something else), resulting in a quick dressing situation? What do you mean you couldn’t bother with footwear? I’m sure excuses can be made, but let’s be so for real; we’re not going to bat in the realm of romance for people who don’t love themselves enough to wear shoes. And why are they leaving the hard work to you anyway? Make them fight their own battles and go find your peace, because this isn’t it.” This is in the context of a relationship, mind you. There are dozens of valid reasons why a person might not be wearing shoes in the context of other questions, but we’re talking about romantic partnerships in this particular reading.

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If I was asked the same question and got the 1672 version of The Lover, however, it would sound more like, “You have a true partner here. Someone who will stand by your side when times get hard, and will fight alongside you. If you’re looking for a true partnership, things might be bumpy and you might have to deal with some parties who object, but fuck ‘em, this is your person.” Note, no mention of the shoes. While the shoes in this version might be flashy, at least they’re present!

All of this to illustrate that the small things matter. What we notice matters. Even if that isn’t the point on a larger scale, it’s the point to you! (Or in this case, me.) And your point of view is integral to not only your life, but the lives of those around you. The Art of Noticing is elemental, and so many have lost the satisfaction and validation that can be found in it.

Go forth and notice!

The Devil is in the Details.

* Tarot de Marseille is a name given to several decks that were published in Marseille, France. Marseille was a prominent epicenter for card / deck production in the 17th and 18th centuries. Translated to English it simply means, Tarot of Marseille.

-She Said With Love

Welcome back to our practice of the art of noticing.

Today I pulled our first Major Arcana card: L’AMOVREVX (The Lover)

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I’ve pulled this card several times in several decks. The art of Pamela Coleman Smith in the Rider Waite Smith deck is very different from the earlier Marseille art. Alas, the goal in this practice is to take note of what’s standing out to me in that particular moment so I won’t go into all the details of those differences, but I do find this particular card to be a great example of varying interpretations over time. I’ll post the Rider Waite Smith version below so you can compare and contrast for yourself.

For me, today, the thing(s) that stand out to me immediately are the hands. Oh my Universe, the hands! There’s so much gesturing going on. It feels anxious. Words aren’t seemingly adequate. And while there’s so much going on with the characters that occupy the edges of the card, the figure in the middle of all the gesticulating seems quite calm. The character in the middle also, is the only one with a hand not visible. His arm is tucked behind the character to his left (our right). It reads sneaky. Upon first glance it might read as though there is a decision to be made, but in truth, the central figure’s mind has been made up and his posture is telling his story.

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The surrounding characters have their work cut out for them. And while the cherubic Cupid / Eros adds another substantial layer of interpretation to the card, I remain focused on the story of the hands. They’re reaching out, grasping, pointing, yearning, as though each character is trying to make a point but not necessarily landing one. It’s messy. The way the hands are configured reminds me of the 5 of wands in the RWS deck. Clearly, there is a challenge at play, too many cooks in the kitchen.

Could the central figure be enjoying this? Might one of these figures be quietly orchestrating the chaos? It’s no far stretch to see why this card is associated with the astrological sign of Gemini. It’s busy and there’s much to be learned, but there’s also a calling to weigh the pro’s and con’s of continuing down this chaotic path. What would you choose?

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As always, I’m far more interested in what you, reader, think. What do you see? Everyone will see something unique to themself which is what makes this practice so entertaining.

Should it tickle your fancy or your brainbox, some prompts.

Prompt 1: Is there anything in my life that’s perhaps creating more stress than it’s worth? Am I giving someone or something too much credit? How can I balance that?

Prompt 2: Am I in a position to bring more ease to a situation than I am currently providing? Why am I choosing to hold it back? Or am I choosing violence? What course of action could I execute that would prove to be mutually beneficial for any and all parties involved?

Have a beautiful week, friends!

-She Said With Love

Today I pulled the 4 of coins.

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As I sit here, the Global Sumud Flotilla is being intercepted by Israeli forces. Our hearts go out to these brave humanitarians who are risking everything to show solidarity and care for the people of Palestine who are being starved to death and permanently displaced before our eyes. Free Palestine! War criminals must (and will) face justice.

Onto the card.

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When I pulled the card the room was silent. I had no outside influence. Global affairs had not yet entered the proverbial chat. Upon immediate glance I saw balance, fairness, and dance. The botanicals and the way they curve around the two sets of two coins on either side of the shield looks like dancers in motion to me. The shield in the middle, however, feels guarded, austere, and protective. I see it one of two ways. It could be that it’s an outside force intentionally holding back the exuberance of joy and equanimity. [Not unlike current crises worldwide.] I see the film, “Footloose”, and a whole community trying to repress the flagrant ecstatic nature of youth who just want to dance! On the other hand though, it could be self-imposed. A fear of truly letting oneself be seen. I’m seeing the shield as a representation of the ego, whether it be one’s own, or that of another. Protect the vessel at all costs, good or bad. Either way, it’s a confirmation that whatever is being held back, shouldn’t be. It’s just, it’s righteous, it’s wholesome, and joyous.

As above, so below, as within, so without.

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More importantly, what do you see?

If it feels good to you, here’s a couple of prompts.

Prompt: What am I holding back? Why? What am I trying to protect? What would happen if I let it fly?

Prompt: What outside forces are holding me back? How can I break through the blockade? What happens if I simply defy expectation?

-She Said With Love

Remember, the point isn’t to apply previous knowledge of the card to the interpretation, but to take in your current surroundings, gaze at the card, spend a moment with it, and put language to what comes through.

For me, two things came through immediately. The first thing is the egregiously holiday-themed song in “Love Actually,” sung repeatedly by the incomparable Bill Nighy, “Christmas is All Around.” The original of this song however, is a sweet little ditty released on October 13th (my bday) in 1967 entitled, “Love is All Around,” by The Troggs.

Lyrics:

I feel it in my fingers
I feel it in my toes
Love is all around me
And so the feeling grows.

It’s written on the wind
It’s everywhere I go
So if you really love me
Come on and let it show.

And from this, we’re off to the races.

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[Before I get too far down that path however, there was a second thing I immediately saw: The colors. As mentioned in my last post, in the caption of the image of the 2 of swords card, I said that this particular printing leaves much to be desired. Even still, I appreciate the potency of the deck in it’s own right, and I aim to read the cards as they are, not how I think they “should” look. Having said that, the colors present on the botanicals are green (earth), yellow (air), and red (fire). One might see it as, Earth, Wind, and Fire, no? The iconic band that brought us the song, “September”! I did a quick search and a few songs came up, one of which is titled, “Sing a Song.” I felt immediately drawn to it because as I’m writing this, there’s a man in my apartment complex who is singing his heart out in a language I can’t decipher, and has been for at least the past twenty minutes. Something here feels right.]

Back to my “Love is All Around” track and what the card is speaking to me. The card says, “Tend to the solar center. There is much work to be done and there is much wealth in all of it’s forms to be gained, but none of that belongs to you. Heal the Sun (sol, soul). This is yours. Whole the soul. That is what you’re here for.” It’s serving wholeness, without excess. Share the shareable and mind your business.

Now, this is just me, and this is also just the beginning of the thought process. I plan to stew in this throughout the day. The point of this practice is to develop a more robust and unique way of reading that honors the lineage of the cards, the people who stewarded the practice before me, and the querent in the time and place where they happen to exist. Each of us will have a slightly different resonance and that’s what makes humanity so worthwhile. So, what do you see?

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Should you enjoy a prompt inspired by what I happened to see, I’ve got a couple for you:

Prompt 1: What am I holding on to too tightly? Where can I let some baggage go to assist in amplifying my sense of self?

Prompt 2: When do I shine brightest? What outside sources have helped me shine? How can I nurture those influences to build a more free-flowing exchange of mutually beneficial energy?

Prompt 3: If “Love is All Around Me”, as they say, what am I taking for granted? How can I address that without depleting myself?

Do what feels good.

- She Said With Love

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I am opening myself up to new ways of interpreting cards and thought I’d share some of the practice with you. It isn’t about knowing pre-determined meanings of images, but feeling your way through what is happening when you gaze at the imagery and putting language to that. This is inspired by Yoav Ben-Dov’s book, “Tarot - The Open Reading” (you can buy here) and the Tarot de Marseille.

Today I pulled the 2 of swords. I cleared my mind of every previous interpretation I have heard and when I allowed myself to soften my gaze I saw only movement and separation. The botanicals in the center of the swords, (yes, they bend), are in motion, blossoming, seemingly forever in cycle, and protected. The buds on the outside of the swords are detached and free, but also motionless, unlikely to blossom any further.

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For me, it brings up the pros and cons of community. It makes me think of the active choice to be a part of something or to isolate. It also brings up the question of cycles in general. Is it in fact advantageous to remain in the safe and protected state of repetitive cycles? If we’re simply cycling through the same peaks and valleys, are we actually experiencing growth or is it familiarity? Is the rogue detour here or there perhaps of higher value? And most clearly, to me, it brings up the lore of Saturn and Jupiter. Saturn, the container, the restrictor, the disciplinarian, bringing order to the chaos and infinite expansion of Jupiter, and the rest of the cosmos for that matter. Still for others - namely you, Reader - it could bring up myriad other possibilities. What might those be?

Prompt: In what ways does movement serve you best? In what ways does separation serve you best? Can those things co-mingle?

Alternative Prompt: Is it better to repeatedly blossom in the ease of comfort and order, or to branch out and risk familiarity in the name of expansion? Why?

Have fun with it.

In case you missed it:
Read Part One Here.
Read Part Two Here.

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People have been trying to figure out why this tour of old dudes, none of whom seem to be the undisputed champ of their respective craft, has taken the world by storm. I have some theories, but it’s never just one thing, is it? A part of the magnetism is that there is something so endearingly transparent about the Gallagher Brothers, for better or worse. There is no room for bullshit when it comes to the Gallaghers. Sometimes in an effort to refrain from using a word that is played out I can get caught up dancing around it so much, that the lack of using it makes it even weirder than just using the word in the first place. In this case, that word is authentic. You can’t be an Oasis fan and *not* appreciate authenticity.

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I keep getting asked, “was it life changing?”, and while the sentiment isn’t far off, it’s not quite accurate. I reply, “I’d say it was more life-AFFIRMING, than changing.” For years prior to the conception of Oasis Weekend, I felt foreign / alien / out of sync with modern American pop culture. And while I am a person who generally has a lingering finger on the pulse of trends, that doesn’t mean I vibrate on their frequency. To be aware of something isn’t necessarily to identify with it.

As a culture, we have normalized realities including, but not limited to; A lack of interest in critical thinking, the glorification of not knowing basic facts and world events, deifying celebrity, parasocial relationships, eagerness to conform, robotic everything, driverless cars, AI writing for students and sometimes even teachers, banning books, endless violence, poisoning our faces, injecting ourselves with all kinds of who-knows-what, and cutting up our bodies to meet beauty standards that don’t make sense, formulaic living, hyper-consumerism, celebration of mediocrity, and myriad other travesties that have left me feeling exhausted and hollowed out. In the words of “Zoolander”’s (2001) Mugatu, “I feel like I’m taking crazy pills!” Organically finding your people swimming in a sea of this ^^^ can feel like an insurmountable task.

And then you (read: I) go to Oasis Weekend (tm), and suddenly you (I) realize, your (my) people are there. Oasis + their fan base are the antidote to these infectious dis-eases (yes, I spelled that the way I intended to). They reminded me that society hasn’t always operated this way and maybe I’m not as crazy as this rotting hellscape of a world has tried to make me feel for years! Maybe it’s healthy to identify the sickness, when it’s present? Maybe it’s okay to care when I see establishments and phony societal constructs taking priority over people, and to refuse to allow it to consume me as well? (Even if that undertaking can be exhausting.) In a time where everything seems to be curated and micromanaged, where money conquers all, and morality matters not, as long as “they’re taking it to the bank,” it’s a gift to be a part of something where the fans are the focus and the imperfections are not only tolerated but celebrated.

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Sure, Liam’s swagger, style, and one-of-a-kind timing and tone, mixed with Noel’s knack for whipping out a timeless, earnest, sing-a-long or a biting, subversive, “fuck you,” of a song is unparalleled, but the bold human messiness of them both individually, and as a pair, is the secret sauce that brings their fans to a state of spontaneous emotional purge. The very humanness and human-mess is a part of the Oasis experience, and the Oasis experience mirrors the Human experience right back to us, in all of it’s grit, grime, and glory. In short, they make us feel seen. They validate us!

We all know they’ve had a tumultuous history. It can be punishing to be an Oasis fan. But through it all there’s an unspoken exchange of understanding: The people are the point. Not just existing, but living, is the secret sauce! Oasis makes you feel things without making you feel judged for feeling them. No flying over the audience on a song-appropriate prop of choice needed. We just need our kids on stage, playing their instruments and singing their songs. They’re filled with swagger, and piss and vinegar, and an undeniable craving for mischief, but they’ll bring a tear to your eye when they start singing about family dynamics, and loves gained and lost around the world. They’re a safe space for the Mr. Blondes (i.e. tough guys and gals +) of the world to really feel and, if needed, find absolution. You can’t fake that. It’s a gift that only family can give you.

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Once “Don’t Look Back in Anger,” ended, I was able to get it together and enjoy, “Wonderwall,” and, “Champagne Supernova,” - complete with spectacular fireworks show - in their entirety without tears. But the awe and the uninhibited love and care for each other imprinted on my soul. There is no end to it. Through no small number of minor miracles, I stumbled into the Church of Gallagher and heartily sacrificed my voice and body (boy, did I abuse her) at the altar of Oasis, only to be baptized in my own tears. *sings* “You ain’t ever gonna burn my heart out…”

Epilogue:

If you made it through this whole tale, thank you. This reunion is so much more than just a tour to me.

We live in trying times. It’s never a bad time to recognize the things you love and to embrace them fiercely. To start highlight reels about your passions, like I did on Instagram starting July 4th, is a celebration and we all could use more of that. Holding on to the thing that brought me joy and hope, got me through this coarse, non-sensical, violent summer. In times like what we’re currently living through though, it’s *especially* important. Imagine a world where people spent less time fixating and obsessing over the horrifying injustices taking place daily, and spent more time following what makes them feel excited, passionate, and fulfilled. (Please note the wording there, staying up-to-date on current events is necessary, fixating is not). Fascists hate feeling dismissed. I can’t help but think that the world would be a much better place if people embraced their loves as openly and vehemently as they do their grievances. I can say, from experience, that even though several people tried, there was no getting me down during Oasis Weekend, and I aim to carry that frequency forward. I think about what it must be like existing as the band Oasis right now. The world is mad, and they get on stage every night and bring tens of thousands of people pure, unadulterated joy. That’s power. My takeaway, and I’m hoping it’s not just me, is to authentically (there’s that damn word again) create. Create anything; Be it a sandwich, some cookies, knitting, a grand opus, this substack piece, anything, as long as it feels true. No act of creation, if it’s motivated by love or something like it, is too small. I’ll sing it again: “You ain’t ever gonna burn my heart oooouuuuut.” Sing it with me. “Sooooo Sally can wait, she’s knows it’s too late …”

Thank you Oasis fans. You’ve restored my faith in us.

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As Oasis Weekend 2025 neared, more and more people were letting me know they were going to the shows and they started offering incredibly generous things like helping me with clandestine merchandise intel, highly-sought-after parking passes, and the absolute shocker of them all, coveted floor passes! On night one, I watched from the stands and had my mind utterly blown by how great they sounded, how good they looked, the art, the setlist (which of course by this point, I already knew), and the beauty of the experience as a whole. The people in the crowds were so, (what’s this?), joyful. It was a stark contrast to what I experience on a more day-to-day basis in the parlance of our times. Even though the lines were offensively long, the heat was sticky and oppressive, and sometimes we were crammed body to body in tunnels as well as along the concourse, there was no palpable undercurrent of fear or stress like what I see everyday now. Los Angeles has suffered an inordinately brutal 2025. This salve was needed and the result was replenishing!

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The next evening, as I was waiting in a comically intense line for night two, the text came, “I got you a floor pass!” I was planning on meeting three friends in the stands already, but once that floor pass came through, all previously laid plans were vigorously tossed out the window. This was my time! I apologized to my friends, but none of them needed it. They all were so happy for me. As I stood in line still waiting to get in, with the blazing hot, end-of-summer sun beating down on me, literally burning my skin, tears welled up in my eyes. Thankfully, the waterworks never fully left the station, but there was a lump in my throat and the essential need to wipe away the pre-tears that had collected in my lower lash line quickly and quietly.

I’ll spare the logistical details but as I was walking through the tunnel and out onto the floor I could feel a palpable shift in my heart beat, not necessarily like a cardiac event, but an exaggerated thud of intention was making it’s presence known . Not faster, but harder. When I finally made it into the front section of the floor, I centered myself under the stage overhang, and slowly gazed upward at that giant, basic as fuck, iconic, black box “oasis” logo, (all lowercase, please), and the first words out of my mouth were a reverent, “Holy shit! I’m at church!”

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This show was pure catharsis. Night Two of Oasis, just like every music festival’s second weekend (if they have one), was the winner! I primarily kept myself relegated to the back of the front floor section, mostly because I knew I wanted to dance, but I confidently squirrelled my way up closer a few times. My little group grabbed all kinds of people to join us and cuddle up for the poznan, and encouraged those behind us (in front of us, once we turned around per Liam’s direction), to do the same. Only two people (out of MANY) didn’t. Shame for them really. I sang, and danced, and screamed my face off with the dopiest smile plastered across my face for the whole set. Several times, I could hear the crowd singing along louder than the mic’d up brothers. I looked up and around and marveled. The people were present, locked in, and pulling every heart string this ol’ bird has left.

During the four-song encore I was drinking it all in and thinking about the amount of people who helped me get to this one perfect life moment; A moment that will be forever imprinted on my soul. They all know who they are. I am not withholding with my gratitude. Like so many of us walking the planet today, I have a very hard time asking for help, and what’s worth mentioning is that, upon reflection, I never had to ask for any of it. Generosity of spirit and kindness flowed freely. It was the most natural exchange that kept happening over and over and over. Literal magic. The Universe spoke, “This is the Place.” Something about this artist, and this fanbase, elicits reciprocated, shared abundance. The human spirit is the point, and Oasis evokes that in people.

The second of four encore songs was, “Don’t Look Back in Anger,” and almost immediately after it started years of tears 😭 poured out of me. I mean, things were coming up that I didn’t even know were there. I really didn’t think this was going to be the song, but you can’t plan it, can you? I couldn’t stop crying. I tried desperately. People were hugging me and sweetly smiling and knowingly chuckling, telling me to, “just let it out”, “it’s okay,” “I cried too”. If I were in a more defensive state I might consider it condescending, but it absolutely wasn’t. This was compassionate and validating. They understood. We swayed to the song and sang along through the mess of it all. The current mess being me. Even now, typing this, my face is hot, my nose is tingling, and that familiar lump is returning. The tears are trying to make a comeback.

But hold the damn phone! I’m not a crier. The “Reservoir Dogs,” poster I mentioned in Part One; The one I had hanging on my wall, framed of course, featured the iconic line Mr. Blonde utters, (played by the legendary Michael Madsen), “Are you gonna bark all day little doggie or are you gonna bite.” This energy is far more my standard operating procedure than crying is, but for this particular moment, with these particular people, on this particular field, under that particular (still full) moon, listening to that particular band, knowing just how many things had to go right to make it happen in the most perfect way possible, remembering all the times I had major life moments and meetings with my self-awareness to these songs, there was nothing I could do to make those tears stop. So I didn’t. I cried my face off for that whole song, and it was the most wholesome and thorough purge I could’ve ever asked for.

… to be continued, Wednesday, 9/17/2025, @ 10 am PDT …
… almost there …
… I promise there’s a point …

Read on for more! Part Three can be found here!

When I was a teenager my mom wouldn’t allow me to rawdog hanging posters up in my room. Any art that crossed the threshold to my home had to be framed. At the time, this sounded utterly insane to me and I considered it oppressive, but in hindsight, I like to think of it as “editorial”. Due to the rigid nature of this demand, I only had three posters hanging in my room. Two of them were from the films, “Casablanca”, and, “Reservoir Dogs”. The only band poster that was hung in my room (behind my door, next to where my full length mirror hung) was that of Oasis. Of course I had other musical loves, but only The Gallagher Brothers were worth the trouble of framing and learning how to use a nail and hammer at the tender age of 16 to perfectly place them in my daily line of sight.

I never saw them live back then. When I was still living with my mother, there wasn’t a chance that would be allowed, and after, “Be Here Now,” came out I drifted as a fan, explored other genres more deeply, lindy-hopped my little life away internationally, and eventually they broke up. Of course the tale as old as time, “You don’t know what you’ve got, till it’s gone,” hit me hard, and I was immediately - and seemingly permanently - devastated. How had I failed so miserably at seeing one of my favorite bands of all time? I work in music for god’s sake! How?!

In the summer of 2024, I heard they were reuniting for some UK shows and I knew this was my chance! I was born in the UK and I still travel back roughly once a year, give or take. This was a perfect excuse for another adventure in some of my favorite cities. I prepared myself to pull an all-nighter for the on-sale. Tickets went on sale on a Saturday at 9 am UK time, making it 1 am on the west coast of the US, where I sit. I was working that night and had to start the process while I was still wrapping up the evening’s duties. Around midnight, I opened my browser and had it at the ready for when the queue opened in hopes to get a decent spot in line. When the official queue opened at 1 am however, I was something like 90,000th in line, (I come bearing receipts). Unreasonable at best, impossible at worst, but it didn’t matter, I persisted. You could only choose one of the dates to try to get tickets for and I chose one of the Manchester.dates. I figured the boys’ hometown would be most special. I easily made cases for all the other locations as well, but something was calling me to try for Manchester.

Around 5 am, I started to aggressively lose steam. I could feel myself fading, but I was steadily making progress in the queue, and refused to give up. There were notifications in the queue regarding ticket availability and whether there were any still remaining. I kept refreshing social media sites trying to see if anything had been listed as “sold out”, but nothing was being updated promptly. I started to set an alarm for every thirty minutes because I was nodding off. This alarm-on-repeat strategy eventually became every 15 minutes. The eyes were simply not having it. They were weighing more and more heavy with each passing minute. If my spot should open up and I miss it, I’d have to go back to the end of the queue, so falling asleep wasn’t an option. I finally gained entry to buy tickets just before 8am Pacific Time, and all that was available were ADA tickets. I’m not that kinda girl (read: I’m not a liar). But I *am* Ticketmaster’s sworn enemy (they don’t know that 🤫 , but they are a criminal enterprise as far as I’m concerned.) so engaging in their resale abomination was not something I would entertain either. Finally, just after 8 am, I had to begrudgingly admit defeat and try to catch even the slightest bit of sleep so I could carry on with my non-Oasis-ticket-holding day of doldrums. 😞

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As this all unfolded some good friends caught wind of my mild bout with psychosis known as pulling-an-all-nighter-for-some-tickets-to-a-show-in-a-country-that’s-6,000-miles-away. They were quite sympathetic and swore to help me get a presale code if they announced US dates. Sure enough, Oasis announced US tour dates including two nights at The Rose Bowl, about a half hour drive from my house!!! The friends came through! Presale code acquired, multiple friends buying tickets at the same time, and voila! I ended up getting tickets for both nights. I swore on that day, I was getting a dog-sitter for the weekend and declared September 6th and 7th, 2025 to be Oasis Weekend. Nothing would bring me down (& trust me, some tried).

Fast forward to July 4th, 2025. This was a rough day in the States. I won’t speak as if we’re a monolith, but I wasn’t feeling particularly patriotic once the ICE raids started happening in LA. I didn’t celebrate America’s Independence Day this year, instead I celebrated Oasis Day and treated it like it was Christmas in July. Because for me, it was! July 4th was the glorious kick off of their reunion tour in Cardiff. I didn’t bother with hot dogs and fireworks, instead I ate Mexican food and watched as much Oasis bootleg and social media footage as I could find. I started a whole new highlight reel on my Instagram page dedicated to the “Oasis Countdown”. This silly act of what, “Some Might Say,” is cringe, but I call unapologetic enthusiasm, brought me free and genuine joy all summer. This is the way. By the time Oasis concluded their initial run of UK and Ireland reunion dates I had watched their whole set from every location, and monitored the set lists closely for any deviations, of which, there were none!

To be continued …

Part Two can be found here!

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Brief explainer: This is the third installment of a series of posts I failed to execute in real time on social media, but I wanted to take the time to revisit them and post in earnest about the themes that came up. This was one that I very much wanted to further flesh out.

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When I originally posted this, I simply added that the confrontation I speak of is that of the inner world, not the external. There was also an ongoing theme of uncomfortable clarity. The two go hand in hand. At this point of the year I was gearing up for my annual return to the desert where I manage a pop up record store at one of the biggest music festivals in the world. I had also welcomed a new romance into my days, which truth be told, is big for me. And on top of it all, it was still the early stages of the new flash and trash administration. “Flooding the zone,” (gross … or is it?) was everywhere.

The confrontation initially presented as facing aging. Maybe not so much aging exactly. Especially not in the way the western world thinks of aging, (i.e. death sentence), but more, the passage of time. What we do with our time, and how we move gracefully with(in) it … or perhaps not.

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The thoughts that were popping up were things like, “How do you teach an adult human (an elderly one, even) about empathy?” Sentences like, “I don’t know how to make you care about the suffering of innocents,” were hanging in the air like little Eureka!-moment-mile-markers. Eventually I landed on a dog-walking thought regarding people I know who lack empathy and it dawned on me that I can’t teach empathy, curiosity and self-reflection is the key. For example, a non-psychopathic / non-sociopathic person lacking empathy, doesn’t know they’re lacking empathy until they’re able to slow down enough, (could be by any means necessary, including tragedy), and reflect on the deep well of events, people, and places that must have happened in order to get them to that point. By the same token, if I can’t slow down enough to sit with myself and reflect on the things I do and the things I have done, there will be no adjustment. (See February 2025) There’s an ancient axiom I try to live by, “Know thyself, Master thyself, Become thy highest self,” and it is abundantly clear that without a moment with a metaphorical mirror, there can be no knowing, mastering, or becoming. Confrontation.

A great way to distract oneself (see: avoidance) from a fascistic version of, “flooding the zone,” is to wriggle your way into a sexy version of it. Yes, I wrote that. Relationships are mirrors of their own, are they not? I was consumed all month with flirting, and sexting, and selfies both to and from a hunky young man who’d set his sights upon me. By no means was this the extent of the exchange, but as far as distraction via shiny objects is concerned, there are few activities that could more thoroughly hold my attention. How could this be a thing? Confrontation.

Could I do this?
Why couldn’t I?
Should I?
I hate “should’s”.
Read “On All Fours” by Miranda July.
Confrontation.
Watch, “Babygirl”.
Confrontation.
Revisit Samantha and Smith on Season 6 of “Sex and the City”.
Confrontation.
Confront endings.
What does that even mean?
And is that even the end?
Because it’s not.

This is a severe swing of the pendulum and God DAMN it’s a good time! Eventually however, the sexy flooding will subside and the pendulum will swing back to the fascistic version which will require attention once more. And we’re back at a mirror. You know the drill by now. Confrontation.

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The safe place for now, work! I focus on work. Luckily, my work is also fun! I’m good at it, it’s challenging and fast-paced and I get to make people’s dreams come true on a small scale every day. Sometimes it’s stunning that I can even do this part of my job* anymore. Setting up a record store in the desert is one of the most counter-intuitive things I think a person would attempt to pull off, but we do it every year. It’s exhausting but fulfilling. It doesn’t provide an extravagant lifestyle, but it earns me a livable wage and it feels right. I love my job and I feel lucky that I have it every single day.

I don’t have answers for what the mirror is revealing. I’m simply aware of the vision. I’m observing and invested in skillfully confronting the reflection. Maybe that is the answer? The mirror’s message, isn’t about a result, it’s about the reflection of the Sol (Sol as in Sun, as well as soul). It’s an honest snapshot of a moment in time along a soul’s journey. Our job is to honor not only the snapshot, but the soul. I’m hoping that anyone who has made it this far into reading this understands that the answers aren’t the point. The point is getting to know thyself, and then some.

* My day job - more of a night job really - is in concerts. The pop-up record stores are supplemental.

If January was about acceptance, and it was, then February has been about adjustment. And adjust, I have / will / must. The paradigm is shifting. Consequentially, new modes of operation to meet the challenges of the dawn of a fresh hellscape must be explored.

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In some systems of tarot, the Justice card (corresponding to Libra and symbolizing balance and swift, just, application of authority), is replaced by a card called Adjustment. This added layer of dimension provides an element of natural texture to the rigidity of Justice. Justice is fair, and swift, but also cold and very mental. Adjustment on the other hand implies implementing the art of bobbing and weaving, adding (+) and subtracting (-), giving (+) and taking (-), however subtle or exaggerated, in an effort to move most skillfully through any situation. Adjustment is crafty, and allows for softness, and deftness. This is the step after acceptance.

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How then, do we adjust to bold fascism? How do we adjust to holding ourselves in a new way as we interact with others? How do we move with allies? Enemies? What about escapism? What about escapism in the form of a person? These are questions I’d love to hear group answers to. All I can speak to is my experience.

Which is to say, I have become deeply invested in protecting my peace at all costs. Let them be wrong. Let them hate me. I endeavor to master the art of being unbothered. Find love. Fall in love as often as I can. With everything. Bask in it. Hold on to the parts that feel so good the bad can’t even find the party, let alone join and thereby crash it. Be kind when I can. If I need to slow down on the freeway to let someone in, no biggie. Come on over. If you’re an ally, yay! If you’re not, I don’t care. At least I’m not a person who thinks winning the length of a car on the freeway is a victory. I am so invested in letting the people who are filled with love, kindness, and curiosity know that there’s more of us out here, that I can’t be bothered with the pettiness of a sad person who hates themselves so much they see using an indication blinker as a marker of their lack of courage.

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This isn’t at the exclusion of maintaining the fight, it’s in addition to it. But the fight is shifting (adjusting) right alongside said paradigm. It is starting to become more efficient. The adjustment from frantic, unfocused exertion of effort to targeted moments of clarity with which to strike with precision and potency, is underway. I love, and dance, and smile, and fight, and spar, and gather intel, and formulate new battle plans. Silence and rolling over aren’t options. But standing strong and speaking my mind, will be on my terms, not theirs.

Audre Lorde said, “For the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. And this fact is only threatening to those women who still define the master’s house as their only source of support.”

I think about this a lot. While this is a quote pretty directly addressing what would traditionally be considered a feminist theme, true, intersectional feminism applies to every living being.

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So how did February present adjustment?

Everything became about expanding, learning, quieting my personal need to express and rather, absorb. All the while maintaining the intention to reimagine the battle / battlefield. Everything became, “Yes, and.” The paradigm is shifting and so am I. And I am not disillusioned enough to believe that I can gain higher ground using someone else’s playbook.