Of course I've been neglecting my magickal/tarot blog.

In between both houses, now, and my main desktop is in one, my laptop follows me back and forth to work. My desk is a lap tray on the air mattress.

But, in spite of my radio silence, shit has been taking off.

I moved back into Atlantic Highlands, well, you know, the business.  I'm at 68 1st Ave, now instead of 76.  It's my own place, and I pay rent and everything...and I'm sustaining it. I'll write more about it, but the longer I do it, the better I'm getting.  I feel my web reaching and touching people that need the kind of wisdom the cards offer.  It's happening.  When I think of my "job" I feel suffused with a warm golden light, that just warms me, and I hope others around me, like the sun on a June morning.  Of course I'm barely turning a profit.  It sustains itself, and gives me a little monetary validation that I'm on the right track.  It feels good, it feels correct.

I'm finding, though, sort of a collateral thing that's happening being an established tarot card reader, more spiritual people are seeking me out, and I am really engaging with people on a magickal level.  I met a really cool woman at a party on Saturday, and within like the first hour we were talking about past life regression, and hypnotism, and how I do that through the cards.  As we were leaving the party, I was like "I meet the COOLEST people" and my mom was like "wow, she was a flake."  I looked at her and said, "yeah, that's what they say about people like us."  Like attracts like, I guess.  But what's happening is, as I meet people and become closer friends, I find us all talking about...Ain Soph Aur, and past lives, the collective unconscious, true will, higher purpose, all that.  I'm finding cool people hanging around the shop, and me grabbing books and showing my friends things...and my friends going out and buying books and showing me things...

Um, don't look now, but it feels like a garage band version of a "coven".  In fact, my most devoted magical chum (besides Luiz) would cringe and rebel like fuck at that term.  She's not a joiner. Neither am I.  I have always skipped past the group magic stuff in the books.  But, we're not joiners together.  And, there are kind of a bunch of us 'non joiners' and we find ourselves sitting around my table, late into the night drinking wine and discussing the stars.

Since Hurricane Sandy, everything in my life has been dulled, repressed, shelved,and sidelined, except tarot.  Except magick.  And now that we're going home and I feel finally able to flourish, it's all coming together.  I've started ritual magick again.  My first summoning in ages, literal ages.  . I'm flourishing magickally.  I've gone back into the garden, a little.  My poor salt soaked dead garden, the rue still grows.  Of course it does, it was Babcia's and there's nothing tougher.  My home is a magickal home, and now that I'm back in the walls and practicing home again, I found that all my time away has made me better. Sharper.  All my small kitchen witchery over the past few years, getting energy to do parties and huge carnival events, brewing teas and tisanes to help people have prophetic dreams, incense to attract business to first 76, and now 68, all that has given me something to do, and keeping me in it.  And now that I'm reuinted with my herbs, stones, and library....  I feel witchier/wizardier/flakier than ever, and business is picking up as a result.  

A friend of mine, a dyed in the wool atheist, who I've read cards for dozens of times, he asked if it was real.  I was like, "look dude. I make money being a witch.  I'm a witch, and I sit in my shop all day being witch and doing witchy things, and there are even wands and potions and shit....and I make a living at it.  Witches don't exist, we're supposed to be fairy tale villains or a fantasy trope,  and here I am buying groceries and repairing my roof with straight up witch money.  I don't have hours, I wake up whenever I want, I stay up till dawn, I have told customers to fuck off, I dress how I like, and come and go as I please...I do fucking party tricks with cards, and I have managed to make a career of it.  Now, you tell me if it's real."

So, the shop is closed.  It went out like woosh, rather than an explosion.  The beginning of the end...was the beginning, honestly.

The hoarding was bad enough, and all that comes with it, like control and trust, envy and greed.  That was hard, but the electricity went, and was only semi repaired, that was a problem.  Because of the electricity, I suddenly couldn't use the air conditioner, the toilet went four months broken, only to be repaired and re-broken twice within days.  The heater's pilot light mysteriously went out, and couldn't be repaired...I knew I couldn't fight.

Actually, I fought through all of that.  When four of my customers come back to me in short order saying "did I do something?  I feel like she hates me.", that's when it was time.  Four very different people, both new customers and old regulars, at four very different times.  The resentment became palpable.  So, I left.

It took less time than I thought to pack up.  I didn't have merchandise.  I had my library and cards, office supplies and furniture, craft stuff, art.

I still have customers, and I'm not "closed" for business.  The season is just slow.




My new years resolution:  strain my brain.  I've been getting soft with the cards.  I learned the Lenormand this year, but I still only have a shaky grip.  I want to memorize and really grasp both the Lenormand and Morgan decks.  I plan on journaling them extensively, definitely on paper, and maybe here too.

More research, harder.  I'm back together with my books now, no excuses.

I will have a firm grasp on astrology.  Enough to flip through the Wheel of the Year reading without sweating, enough to talk conversationally about it (because as a tarot reader, it always comes up, and I always feel very herpderp in those moments), enough to learn more, obviously and get better at tarot.

I feel sometimes stagnant.  I use the same deck over and over, my customers ask me the same things over and over.  It feels mushy.  I feel soft.  I need to toughen up.  Started tonight with the biggest wheel reading ever.  The 12 astrological houses, with a Lenormand, a Morgan, and 3 normal tarot cards.  I thought about throwing a Thoth card in there too for funsies, but I'm glad I didn't.  It's enough trying to wrangle the three very distinct voices into some sort of harmonious message.  At first glance, I will be having the most healthy and active year to date OR I will have absurdly poor health and maybe even die...so obviously, I have more work to do.  So far it looks like Len is setting the tone of the question, Morgan is the cosmic message, and tarot is how manifests in the mundane.  I got halfway through, before I had to quit, my head was spinning.  I'll get back to it later, when the house quiets down.

I will have a shop soon.  All my energy is for the house right now.  I am wounded and exhausted, and burned out, but I have a direction, and Will.

So here's a moment.

I've had a customer for over a year.  When she came to me, she had a (rather poorly constructed) first draft of a memoir and nothing.  Just a sheaf of papers in a binder clip.   No idea what to do, no hopes at publishing, no connections in the literary world.  It's a damn good story though.  Poorly written, but fascinating.

I read a sample, then we pulled cards.  In spite of my actual opinion on the writing, the cards saw, last June, that this is going to happen.  She's going to get published, and make a sustainable amount of money to become an author.

Um.  Her book.  It's on Amazon right now, preorders are rolling in.  I'm working her book launch party in two weeks.

Holy fuck.  Even I didn't trust the cards on this one.

Opening the shop has become a ritual, and I realize I've been doing it the same for a long time, and when I stick to the formula, success.  Both mundane and magickal have been woven together into sort of a spell.

I walk in the door, greet Meredith, and immediately put my sign outside.  It's a huge sandwich board, so I do this mindfully.  When I come in, and skip or delay the sign thing, I know I'm not 'on' and I'm just in house for my own reasons.  Then I head to the back and flick on every light and source of energy that I have.  Now the shop is 'on' and so am I.  I go around lighting candles, and then I light the incense.  I pound and blend my own based on whatever I need the most, or what I want to communicate to my clients.  I have a few select shop blends, that provoke love, clarity, peace, harmony, and vigorous commerce...this is a business after all.  While the charcoal is coming to temperature, I tidy and clean, select music for the day, make fresh incense if I'm running out.

When I put the incense on the charcoal, I do it with ceremony.  There's a whole thing that happens here, where I push energy into the smoke, into the web that connects us, into the air, the atmosphere, space.  I push love, openness, care, to everyone that needs me, as far as every horizon in every direction.  It's huge, and if I'm not in the right headspace, I can't muster it.

I keep the incense going, carry the smoke to every corner of the room, trail it downstairs, and across the whole store, then I place it on the windowsill to be carried into the atmosphere.

Then I'm ready.

I felt what it is to age, today.  I felt age.  It's moving further and further away from the wellspring of life itself, the cooling, the distance.  I felt it come back immediately, I captured it, in that moment when I was lying in the yard feeling the sun move across the sky, in between the two boughs of the oak tree till it was shining squarely on my whole body, then the cooling again as it continued to travel.  I will never be able to capture it in words, but I can remember that moment by writing about it.  As we grow older, we move away from that heat, that spark.  It burns brightest in us when we're young, and then as we move, like planets away from the sun, we turn from it, we cool, and we yearn for that warmth again.  It's the seasons.  It's the coolness of night, and the warmth of sunrise, it's our life cycle.  I had this moment when I realized it, and felt it, and exactly where I am along my own path.  I felt my age.  I felt my exact distance from that spark.  Just like, in feeling the sun crossing my face, I felt our exact planetary spot, in relation to our sun.

I also learned something of fours today.  Four dreams with this entity.  Four different rooms in the dream.  4 different men.  4 different paths.  4 walls.  4 pillars. 4 of Disks.

4+2+9+2+0+1+5=23   2+3=5  Today is a 5.  Of course it is.  I have a job to do, now.

I want it all, and I want it now!

A tale of when that works, and when it doesn't.  Names WAY changed.


Charlotte has gracefully come through a period in her life where she extracted herself out of an abusive marriage, came to terms with the death of her father (her idol, her mentor), and navigated a strange old/new budding romance.  She wrote a memoir.  She's about to be published.  This romance is what I'm addressing here.  It's tricky.  He's high profile (like, if I said his name, 90% of you would go "oh shit...that guy?" ) and they were close friends before fame.  She turned him down 30 years ago, romantically.  He went on to have painfully loveless marriage.  She is the heart in his life, they reconnected after her father died, and many years later, the chemistry is strong.  She wrote the book for herself, about her life, incidentally mentioning this whole thing.  It's going to come out soon, and she's not doing it to be sordid, she just wanted to write her story.  She's completely guile-less. I know what you're thinking, that she's doing it for attention/money/any number of self aggrandizing reasons.  Nope.  She wrote her memoir, focusing on her journey and three prominent men in her life, her husband her father and this guy.  She loves him. The communicate often, and it's very sweet, like high school romantic, even though they're both pushing 60.  They're slowly coming together, with this book being a catalyst.  He's married, but it's publically loveless.  It's a known thing.  His wife hates him, but loves the society life.  His wife knows about this, but doesn't give a fuck.  It's really fascinating, I've known Charlotte for about 7 months, reading for her quite frequently.  I know pretty much everything about her life, her family, her motivations, her dreams and fears.  She's in love, he's in love with her, and the divines shine upon it. It's the kind of uplifting love that will better everyone involved, and it's for the greater good.  Like, art will stem from this romance.  It already has.  She's going for it, with blessings from the universe.


Danielle is her sister.  She's in love with a higher up at work, a classic office crush.  She's very much in love with this man, we'll call him Cole.  He's also super married, with old money involved, lots of family almost an arranged marriage situation, young children.  She's so in love.  The guy is a good guy, moral, great job, stable, intelligent, witty, handsome, I mean a real genuinely caring and good man.  Also married.  And, being a good man, he's not at all willing to cheat on his wife.  Danielle is so in love with him.  She's been infatuated for over a year.  He has told her, point blank "please don't text me, unless it has to do with the job" and things like "I know what you want, and I can't give you what you want." I've been reading for her for 7 months, too.  But, you know what?  I don't know a ton about her.  I know about her infatuation with Cole, because even though we spend at least an hour a week together on average, it's not so much about her life, hopes, dreams, but Cole Cole Cole.  What's he thinking? Why did he go to Mexico this week? Is he with his wife? Is he having fun in Mexico?  Is he thinking of me?  He likes blondes, is he flirting with that new girl Lauren?  I have told her before that she needs to maybe focus on herself, and stop chasing this whole thing.  Like, if it were meant to be, it would happen.  For her to find her interests again, because like her sister, she's intelligent, well rounded, great conversationalist, lots of cool interests...but for the past year, she's become less of herself because of this infatuation.  It's like, "honey, when was the last time you went for a swim, or pulled out your watercolors?"  Hardly ever, because she's hanging around Cole's after work watering holes, hoping for a sighting.  Working insane overtime, just to be close to him.   She feels like this whole thing was Meant To Be.  That he is The One. Mr. Right. Mr. Forever. Guided by the arrows of Cupid, absolutely destined, her guardian angels all agree.   I genuinely care for her.  I pulled cards today, and had to look her in the eye and tell her point blank that this isn't love anymore, it's a flat out obsession, and that she's trying to validate it with all this high moral shit, but it's just straight up her desire.  I want him and I don't care, I want him I want him I want him *stomp foot*.  This is lust for results.  This is trying to have all your needs met, regardless of any other parties involved.  She's going for it, with no real love involved.  No love for herself (why would you throw yourself at a brick wall for so long?  That's fucking torture) and no real love for Cole, because if she loved him, she'd know him, recognize that he's happy and not going anywhere.  I mean, I never met the guy, but I have him figured out better, because my vision isn't clouded by lust.  She's going for it, and it's costing her so much.

So, it's Valentine's day, blah.  I'm coping with a medical issue.  I feel like shit.  Irv had to go into work before I got home from work, so our whole day was reduced to a rushed sandwich lunch, and promises to spend time together tomorrow or Monday.  I might have to cancel my reservations for dim sum tomorrow. It's snowing, it's shitty, and it's cold. The toilet at the shop seems broken again, and the heat has been broken all winter.  It was about 40 degrees in my space when I got there.  I had appointments today. Total day to bitch about.  Every year, Valentine's Day fucks me. I suppose it's because I spent years hating on it.

I dragged my ass in feeling like shit, and in a bad mood. Luiz drove me there which was nice.  I love his company, I love not having to be responsible for driving. I could spend the whole car ride putting myself in the proper headspace.  The first thing I got to hear about was Meredith meeting a man.... oh here we go, the usual drama...but wait... He likes her. That's good. We pulled cards, and he's surprisingly not a scumbag. She was positively buoyant.  My day turned around instantly.

Then, emboldened by a bracing mixture of prednisone, oxycontin, and xanax, I did a spontaneous Petit Lenormand Grand Tableau for a perfect stranger, my first sitting with this customer.  Just jumped up and laid out 36 cards.  Then had this "what the fuck was I just thinking? Because now I have to explain this to a total stranger..." I almost choked.   It went...well.  I saw everything very well, but I sort of had to bullshit my way through some of it, but I'd say I got 90% of the truth.  I also pulled a couple dozen tarot cards to fill in what I was BSing.

Then, and this is going to be an ongoing series, I think, I got to experience love through my customers.  Neighbor couple popped in today.  They always pay me $20, and then some choice strains of cannabis, and generally they'll bring a bottle of something fancy to drink.  Normally, I'll have a polite smoke and cordial glass, and read for them.  It's normally cool, we talk like friends, and I help them sort out life issues.

Luiz drove me in, because of the aforementioned pill cocktail, so tonight when they showed up with their usual mobile party, I partied right with them.  Tonight was special too, because I did a romantic past life spread for them, showcasing what they mean to each other now, and what they meant to each other in an influential past life.  I could see it really strengthening their bond, and reminding them why they're together.  I sense that they fight, hell, they fight right in my shop.  But they're a great couple, and very loving.  I sent them home feeling so happy for their relationship.  Their lives are a little fucked up, it's not perfect, they struggle to make ends meet, they struggle for stability.  They are always home, when they have each other, and that's something rare and great.

Finding love in your life isn't just about finding it for yourself.  I think there's something really important about being able to recognize it in other people, too.  Like, you are in love.  You are loving.  You love each other very much.

I have some more great and tragic love stories from my first year at 76 First Ave.  I'll share them soon, I think.  Before the memories get dull.