Following the Three of Cups last week, I guess the party isn’t over! The Nine of Cups, upright, is another overwhelmingly positive card. As a Nine, it is near the end of the cycle of pip cards. The only thing after it is the Ten of Cups, so the Nine of Cups is a good indicator that the hard times are in the past (for now) and things are looking up.
In love readings, it’s a sign of emotional fulfillment, pleasure, and satisfaction. In career readings, it points to success and recognition. In a more spiritual context, it points to spiritual fulfillment and a soul that radiates joy and positivity.
Even in terms of advice, the Nine of Cups is a good sign. Looking at the traditional imagery of the Rider-Waite-Smith deck, there’s a man sitting in front of a row of golden chalices, arms crossed and a frankly smug expression on his face. All of the cups are upright, none are spilled. He’s got a ton of resources to back him up. Whatever this guy wants, he is probably going to get.
In the Crow Tarot, the imagery is similar:
He sits on top of a pyramid of Cups, filled with fruit, fish, flowers, and the keys to whatever his little bird heart desires. The world’s his oyster.
I could use this energy right now. I’m taking on some things that are pretty new to me, and a few that aren’t — though they are rather high stakes. If I do have the keys to everything I want right now, I plan to use theĀ crap out of them.
Some materials that make it into the gem trade pretend to be something they aren’t. They might even come complete with a list of healing and metaphysical properties, leaving buyers none the wiser.
Wait, fake crystals?
There’s a whole spectrum of things covered by the term “fake crystal.” On one hand, it can mean a gem where the trade name doesn’t reflect the mineral itself (e.g. various types of crackled or dyed quartz). It can also mean a material that’s treated like a gem when it isn’t. It might be made into towers, molded into points, tumbled into nuggets, or even shaped into palm stones and spheres.
How can you tell if a gem is actually a crystal vs a man-made material?
Honestly, the best way I’ve found is to know the various types of art glass that end up in the gem trade. If you’re trying to suss out a man-made crystal masquerading as a natural one, there are certain tells you can look for. That’s a better subject for another post, however, so let’s look at art glass that’s frequently sold as and mistaken for natural gemstones.
Opalite is a type of opalescent glass, sometimes sold as sea opal or opal moonstone. ThereĀ is a natural stone called “opalite,” but you’re more likely to come across it under the name “common opal” since synthetic opalite is much more prevalent.
Some unscrupulous sellers will try to pass off opalite glass as natural opal or moonstone. Fortunately, opalite is pretty recognizable — it’s smooth, evenly colored, doesn’t exhibit any cracks or inclusions, and may occasionally contain air bubbles.
Crystal healers sometimes credit opalite with the ability to shift energy blockages, improve one’s ability to communicate, and stimulate creativity.
Goldstone
Goldstone photo by GDK. CC BY-SA 3.0. No changes were made.
Goldstone, or aventurine glass (no relation to aventurine), is a stunningly sparkly type of glass made in a low-oxygen environment. It has to be produced in a specific type of environment to allow the copper ions in the mixture to reduce to pure, elemental copper, and within a very narrow temperature range to allow the glass to stay liquid while the copper precipitates out, creating the evenly-distributed gold glitter throughout the glass.
I have seen goldstone marketed as sunstone, as well as sold in ways that obscure the fact that it’s a man-made glass. Goldstone doesn’t really look like natural sunstone, however — the color and distribution of metallic crystals is too even.
Some crystal healers say goldstone promotes energy, confidence, vitality, and ambition.
Blue Goldstone
Blue goldstone looks very similar to regular goldstone, the only difference is the color. Blue or purple goldstones use different metallic elements in their formulations, giving the stones a deep blue or purple color (hence the name) with silver glitter.
Blue goldstone doesn’t really resemble any natural stone, but I have seen it sold as “blue sunstone.”
Like goldstone, blue goldstone is said to help with vitality. It’s also credited with the ability to soothe anxiety and communication.
Fake Quartz
With a cursory visual inspection, molded glass can pass for quartz. There are a few key things to look for to be able to tell regular glass from the real McCoy:
Quartz is probably going to be cold to the touch, colder than glass.
Quartz will probably be slightly heavier — it generally (not accounting for differences in composition of the matrix, inclusions, etc) has a density of 2.65 g/cm3 while borosilicate glass is about 2.2 g/cm3.
Glass is likely to contain air bubbles, and probably won’t have the natural imperfections of quartz.
Glass is softer than quartz — it won’t be able to scratch a glass plate, but quartz will.
Some low-quality quartz crystals are ground up, melted down, and used to create reconstituted quartz. This is frequently used for scrying spheres, since it offers perfect clarity along with the other properties of quartz. The best way to tell reconstituted quartz from naturally-formed quartz is its lack of imperfections, and its price tag. A reconstituted crystal sphere of a given size and clarity is much less expensive than its natural counterpart.
Reconstituted quartz spheres can be as transparent and flawless as glass, but natural quartz very rarely is.
Does it matter?
Eh, maybe.
If you have a piece of opalite, goldstone, or even resin or glass that you get something out of, I’m definitely not going to tell you you’re wrong. I’ll be the first to tell you that something’s origins or how natural it is don’t necessarily dictate its usefulness; I’ve used literal, actual garbage in spellwork before.
That said, itĀ royally sucks to get mislead by an unscrupulous seller. If you enjoy opalite and find that it’s useful for you on your spiritual path, that’s awesome! Just please make sure you know what you’re buying, and don’t let someone overcharge you for their “super rare sea opal.”
It can also be important when you’re looking into making things like gem elixirs. While glass is pretty much inert, you really, really want to make absolutely certain that you’re not working with something that’s going to leach harmful compounds into your elixir. For that reason alone, you absolutely want to make sure that you know exactly what kind of minerals — natural or man-made — you’ve got.
Of course, no man-made material is going to have the exact same physical or metaphysical properties as the gemstone it’s imitating. But (as I mentioned in my post about identifying natural citrine) goldstone, blue goldstone, and opalite can have a legitimate use, even in a very traditional magical system. Color magic is a viable aspect of witchcraft, and goldstone being made in a factory instead of underground doesn’t make it any less orange and sparkly.
If you try to use nature-derived material in your spellwork, you might want to familiarize yourself with the man-made stones that occasionally make their way into the crystal and gemstone market. If you don’t really care, or feel drawn to these stones for their own sake, there’s no reason to avoid them. Opalite, goldstone, blue goldstone, and reconstituted quartz are all beautiful and useful in their own ways. If you find a piece that resonates with you, enjoy it and treasure it — no matter whether it came from the earth, or from a laboratory.
It took me some time, but I submitted my ADF Dedicant Path work, received some feedback, elaborated where I was asked to elaborate, and… I passed!
It’s an enormous relief — perhaps unsurprisingly, some of the feedback I received involved me being “too hard on [myself]” when rituals didn’t go perfectly to plan. I don’t consider myself a type A personality, I don’t really think I’m a perfectionist (well,Ā most of the time), but I can see it. Completing this path work was very important to me. Upholding the virtues and things I’ve learned in the course of doing it isĀ stillĀ important to me.
There’s only one problem: where do I go from here?
I’ve considered trying to pursue ordainment. There are also other paths of study within each of the Druidry guilds. With how long it took me to finish my Dedicant Path work to my satisfaction, I’m a little hesitant to jump into another round of studying and writing so soon. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t calling to me, though.
Do I explore other Druid groups alongside ADF, and see what knowledge they have to offer? Do I choose a guild or two to concentrate on?
I’m giving myself until February 8th. By then, I will have looked at my options and picked a course of action.
I celebrated alone, as I often do — as much as I like having other Pagans to share with, i still really enjoy the headspace of a solitary ritual. It can get much more improvisational. If it feels right to do a ritual in the alley next to the dumpster and pour out my nature offerings right where the birds can get them, I can do that. If I want to honor my ancestors by making and offering of some of the really awesome BBQ pizza I reheated from the night before, I can do that. If the spirits move me and I want to cover my floor in newspaper, smear my body with paint, and express myself by doing the worm across a piece of unstretched canvas, I can do that.
Not that I did, or anything. But I could!
Oddly, being able to get out and about more now has given me more of an appreciation for solo rituals. The difference between having to celebrate alone and choosing to do so is much bigger than I thought.
I don’t generally get much opportunity to decorate for the High Days. Kiko would eat whatever I put out, and Pye would throw it on the floor in a fit of pique if he thought his food bowl didn’t contain the right ratio of freeze dried bits to crunchy bits. I love my cats dearly, but they are kind of jerks.
And so, I had a small Imbolc celebration sitting in the big, comfy chair in my living room, with my coffee table as an altar and a very fancy candle I choose specifically as an offering for Brigid. The Nature Spirits received mung beans, my Ancestors received candy, the Shining Ones received bourbon and incense, and the waters of life were the tail end of a bottle of very excellent cucumber, mint, and geranium lemonade. (I’m a sucker for cucumber and herbal flavors.)
It was peaceful. It was low-key. It was just what it needed to be, in a place where the pavement often keeps me from being able to see the first early flowers make an appearance, on a day when the overcast sky seemed to blanket everything in downy gray and the brightness of spring still feels far away.
I’m not complaining, of course. Cups cards are the cards of emotions, and most of the Cups I end up drawing are all about fulfillment and good times.
This weekend, my S.O. and I had a little cause to celebrate. I’ve been able to get out more now, so we packed the weekend with things we’ve needed to do, and a few that just sounded like fun. The rain dampened our plans a little bit, but that’s alright.
The important thing here is that I’ve gotĀ so many plans for stuff I want to do, my dudes.Ā i have a group of tabs open for some local theaters and concert halls, which I’ve been idly refreshing in my spare time to see what’s on offer. It’s a really nice feeling to be able to do that, pick a show that looks like fun, and actually plan to go, instead of feel like I’m tormenting myself with FOMO.
So it feels pretty appropriate to draw the Three of Cups this week. I’ve pulled it before, when he and I were about to move into our new place, and we each had a ton of irons in the fire that we were both very excited about. This time around, I’m continuing existing projects more than starting up new ones, and I don’t really have a major life change on the horizon that I know of. There are always more things that I want to do and see, but both my S.O. and I are in a very good place at the moment. I’m very happy to enjoy my new freedom, though!
Saturday, we’d hoped to go see World in a Box. Unfortunately, the stars didn’t quite align — they were sold out, and the rain made navigating there a bit of a challenge. Still, it prompted me to look at what else Rhizome has coming up, and given me a lot of new ideas.
I love this card. I love the Crow Tarot deck. I love where my life is right now, and I’m excited to see where it’s going.
If you’ve been following the saga of the gas leaks, you can probably guess why I put off doing a full-on apartment cleanse. It’s a good idea to do this as soon as — if not right before — you move in. It is a less-good idea to do this if you plan on burning things, and your kitchen smells like mercaptan.
Anyway! Now that the fire hazards are dealt with, I wanted to talk about apartment cleansing.
You should cleanse anything that’s been used by another person, and any time that thing has seen arguments, illness, death, or other struggles. You also want to cleanse your space whenever things just start to feel gross, heavy, or tense. I don’t support “good vibes only” culture, but it’s definitely important to wipe the energetic slate clean once you’ve experienced something bad and allowed yourself to process the trauma. This is especially true if you perform other spells or rituals in your home — there are some energies you don’t really want to keep around if you don’t have to.
Most house cleansing rituals involve things like candles and incense. These rituals are great, and extremely effective, but not always the best choice — what if your lease prohibits burning things? What if you have artwork, or other special objects that would be damaged by repeated exposure to incense smoke or soot? What if you’re asthmatic and shouldn’t be breathing in burning particulates?Ā What if you might explode your entire block, because your building is very very old and literally everything is leaky?
You get my drift.
So, what does house or apartment cleansing do?
Ideally, cleansing a space gets rid of negative or stagnant energy, and brings in fresh energy. Psychologically, it can help give you closure after you’ve had a rough time, and create a sense of optimism and enthusiasm for the time ahead. It can also mentally prepare you to be the new steward of the place you’re cleansing.
What does it entail?
From my experience, house cleansing and house blessing are usually part of the same ritual. You cleanse the space, then you bless it. Some people roll them into one action by asking their guardian spirits, ancestors, and/or deities to both cleanse and bless.
Generally, cleansing a space involves walking around the area either clockwise or counterclockwise (depending on tradition), performing a cleansing act, and asking that the space be cleared of any bad vibes. A cleansing act can be wafting the smoke of burning herbs or incense over the walls, asperging them with water, sprinkling a perimeter of salt, carrying a white candle dressed with cleansing oil, or even just touching the walls and floor and declaring the intention that they be cleansed.
Incense and candles figure prominently in many popular energy clearing rituals, but they aren’t a necessity. There are plenty of other things you can do if burning things isn’t possible or desirable for you.
1. Lemons. Everywhere.
Lemons have a well-deserved reputation for busting up stagnant or negative energy. Even the scent of lemons is uplifting, and lemon juice is very helpful when it comes to actually physically cleaning your place.
You can use lemons in a variety of ways, from adding sliced lemons or lemon juice to your mop water, to leaving whole lemons in places where people tend to gather. I prefer to use them like this:
Take a whole, fresh lemon, and slice it into rounds.
Take a generous quantity of sea salt, and sprinkle it over the rounds. (Make sure to cover both sides!)
Place them in a dish, and set it wherever you feel needs some cleansing.
Keep an eye on the lemon slices — if they begin to get moldy, discolored, or mushy, discard them and try again with fresh ones. It might take a couple of lemons before everything’s thoroughly cleared up.
2. Asperge with water.
Asperging with blessed or holy water is probably my favorite way to cleanse a space. Depending on your tradition, “blessed” or “holy” might vary. In mine, water gathered from three natural sources is used in ritual. Alternatives include:
Water left to charge in sun- or moonlight.
Water to which has been added a pinch each of frankincense ash and sea salt.
A hydrosol made of a cleansing herb, like rosemary or sage.
Water you have asked your deities to bless.
Asperging involves dipping a bundle of herbs (or your fingers) into the water, and sprinkling it on the object to be cleansed. Sprinkle it on your walls, floor, and ceiling (if you can reach it) as you declare your intention to cleanse the space. Make sure to get the corners!
3. Use your own energy.
You don’t really need anything other than yourself, if you don’t have other tools at your disposal. You can stand in the middle of each room in your home, raise power however you customarily do, and release it into the walls, floors, ceilings, and corners of your space. Visualize it as a bright light that touches every surface of your home, absorbing and disappearing into them, leaving no trace of negativity behind.
4. Make some noise.
I feel like a lot of practitioners underestimate the power of noise (but, I admit, I might just be inordinately fond of raising a ruckus). Coupled with light and fresh air, there are few things as helpful for clearing the energy of a place. Open the windows, get a nice breeze going, let the sunlight in, and turn up the volume — at least, as long as your neighbors won’t complain.
There are a few different ways that you can use sound to help the energy of a place:
Play a set of chimes. Ascending scales are said to purify, and descending scales banish.
Play uplifting music.
Play Solfeggio tones. Each one is said to have a different effect, so it’s best to experiment and find the one that works for you.
Play nature sounds. Running water, insect chirps, and birdsong have their own, special effects. There’s a reason they’re part of so many meditation tracks!
5. Salt.
Sea salt is a quick and easy way to cleanse pretty much anything that won’t be damaged by salt. Personally, I don’t use it that often because I try to do most of my cleansing-of-things outside, and I don’t want it to leach into the soil — but I can vouch that it works.
To use it, sprinkle sea salt in the corners of your rooms while declaring your intention to clear the space. You don’t need very much — just a pinch will do just fine.
Every tradition has their own ways of preparing a home, from cleansing, to blessing, to protecting it and inviting in prosperity for its occupants. If you’re in a place where you can’t turn to candle or incense magic, you still have plenty of tools at your disposal.
Note: This post contains affiliate links to the herbs I talk about here. These allow me to earn a small commission, at no additional cost to you. Thank you for supporting independent artisans, and this site!
I drink so much marshmallow, it borders on the absurd.
It’s not for the flavor, either — marshmallow root doesn’t really have much of one. Let me tell you, though, if you’ve got a stomach ache, bladder pain, or an annoying, dry cough? There’s nothing more soothing than a big cup of swamp root goo. No joke.
I cannot overstate the debt of gratitude I owe to marshmallow.
(I’d also eat my weight in toasted vanilla Smash Mallows if science would let me, but that’s a subject for another time.)
Marshmallow Magical Properties and Folklore
As its name implies,Ā marshmallow (Althea officinalis) is considered a water herb. It’s often associated with deities of love and beauty, and used in fertility and attraction spells. (Some sources say that the slippery marshmallow extract was even used as a lubricant, so using it in sex and fertility magic isn’t much of a stretch!)
Marshmallow is sometimes burned to cleanse a space, or used to make protective oils.
It’s considered to be a favorite of benevolent spirits. Spirit bottles, used to house helpful spirits, are filled with marshmallow root. Keeping a jar of it and a dish of water on your altar is said to help call helpful spirits to your aid.
Planting marshmallow on or near a grave, or decorating a grave with the flowers, is used to honor the dead.
Using Marshmallow
A big part of why marshmallow root is medicinally valuable is its mucilage content. Marshmallow mucilage is a polysaccharide with a very thick, slippery consistency. When you stand the root overnight in water, you’ll notice that the water becomes more viscous.
Marshmallow expresses its mucilage best as a cold infusion. I usually measure the dose of marshmallow root I need (depending on what I’m trying to do) into a tea strainer, fill a glass jar with clean water, plop the strainer in it, and set it in my fridge overnight.
If need be, youĀ can brew the root the way you would any other tea, it just won’t produce quite as much mucilage. I usually do this if I have a sore throat — the mucilage and the warmth are really soothing.
Marshmallow leaf contains less mucilage than the root. It’s a diuretic and helps with expectoration, and is sometimes used as a topical poultice.
The key words here are “soothing,” “protecting,” and “comforting.” On a physical level, the mucilage in marshmallow root soothes irritated membranes, forms a protective layer, and brings comfort. This is reflected on a metaphysical level, too — as an ingredient in beauty preparations, it’s not surprising to see it used in spells for the same. As something that helps banish pain, it’s natural to use it to banish evil. As an herb that offers comfort, it makes sense to use it to comfort and placate the spirits of the dead.
Even if you don’t regularly perform spiritwork or work with the dead, marshmallow’s a helpful herbal ally to keep around. It makes a soothing tea, and its gentle, comforting nature lends it well to a variety of magical applications. Even though marshmallow is used as a food as well as medicine, consult with an experienced practitioner before use — especially if you are pregnant, nursing, or have any medical conditions.
As much fun as last week was, at times, it absolutely kicked my butt.
I don’t know if you remember when our car got poisoned when we went on that road trip down south, but, between a clunking engine and a cracked windshield, we’d finally decided that it was time for Caliber the Undying to be put out to pasture.
(According to what the trade-in guy said, the pasture appears to be somewhere in eastern Europe.)
So, my S.O. had to get a new car — though by “new,” I mean more like “used, but clean and significantly less likely to turn into smoking rubble on the highway.” Couple that with some late work nights, getting handed a shovelful of writing orders, turning in the corrections for my Druidry coursework, and going out in a crowd for the first time in over a year(!), I’m a little drained.
Please,Ā I silently begged as I shuffled my deck, please just not the Ten of Swords. Or Nine of Swords. Or any of the Swords, to be honest.
Fortunately, I lucked out. This week’s card is The Star.
The Star is a very positive omen — it’s a hope spot. A pause for breath. It comes after The Tower, a card of tremendous upheaval, so it’s common to draw The Star when you’re entering a time of peace, serenity, and optimism after a struggle.
I wouldn’t exactly call what I’ve gone through lately a struggle, of course. While it was a lot of work, and it wore me out, I was glad to do it. (I mean, I’m not exactly going to complain about having too many opportunities to help support my family!) Still, spoons are spoons, and it’s possible to wear yourself out doing things you enjoy.
The Star is a positive omen in virtually every respect, whether you draw it in a Love, Career, Spirituality, or just a general reading. As advice, it asks you to focus on rest and healing — The Tower has fallen, the worst has passed. Marshall your strength and go forward from here. Conditions are favorable, you’re on the right path. Don’t force anything, just let it guide you.
Right now, it’s guiding me to some magnesium oil, a heating pad, and a cup of marshmallow root tea.
Tuesday night, I had the chance to see Richard Thompson perform live. It’s a show I’ve had on my bucket list ever since I was introduced to him a few years ago — he’s an incredible guitarist, and watching him play is really an amazing experience. When I stopped being able to go out much for awhile, I was legitimately afraid that I wouldn’t get well enough to be able to see him play. I only learned about Coco Robicheaux on the day of his death, and I missed the chance to see Tom Waits (who doesn’t tour very often) perform when I lived in California; two things I consider some of the biggest missed opportunities of my life.
I think my S.O. and I were the youngest people in the audience by close to twenty or thirty years, which made me a little self-conscious when we were finding seats. (‘Scuse me, sir and/or ma’am, biker punk and tattooed millennial with a shaved head coming through.) As soon as I sat down, though, I didn’t care. I still whooped it up and applauded hard enough to jam one of my fingers.
He’d just started playing “Valerie” when we got in, which is, bar none, my favorite of his songs. It was honestly a little overwhelming — I’m embarrassed to admit it, but my heart skipped a beat and I thought I was going to have a panic attack for a few. I teared up at “Beeswing” and “1952 Vincent Black Lightning,” just like I knew I would. (Lucky for me, I’d had the foresight to forego eye makeup for this exact reason.)
The songs were moving, tragic, and hilarious by turns. His voice and guitar playing were superb. His banter made the venue feel small, with the kind of warmth and humor that turns a show into an intimate gathering.
I loved every minute of it.
And then, the next day, I found out that Terry Jones had died.
He wanted to be remembered as a comedian, but I knew him best as an author long, long before I knew anything about Monty Python’s Flying Circus. When I was a kid, we had a copy of Fairy Tales. It was my favorite children’s book — as a kid, I think I learned more important morals there than almost anywhere else. Like Three Raindrops, which taught me that everyone’s grave is the same size, and there’s no point in wasting your life on comparisons. Or Jack One-Step, which taught me the value of collective bargaining. Or The Glass Cupboard, which, I’m fairly certain, is what turned me into a tiny environmentalist.
And then there’s this guy, which I’m pretty sure figured prominently in my nightmares until I was ten. Artwork by Michael Foreman.
I loved Michael Foreman’s illustrations, too. To be honest, I can’t really overstate the impact they had on my imagination as a kid, or even on my artwork now. His watercolors were at once bright and soft and dreamlike, surreal and strange, occasionally with a subtly unsettling edge. They were the perfect accompaniment to stories like The Fly-By-Night and The Wonderful Cake-Horse.
Illustration for Terry Jones’ The Wonderful Cake-Horse, by Michael Foreman.
I’m much older now, but the stories and illustrations still mean just as much to me.
Jones’ passed after a battle with dementia. As much as we like to think that “where there’s life, there’s hope,” there’s still a very particular kind of mourning that happens when someone passes from a brain disease. There’s the loss you experience when someone is no longer who they once were, and the final loss that comes with death. Sometimes, the hardest thing to deal with is that we might not think we feel “sad enough” when someone actually dies, because we’ve spent so long mourning the person they used to be. It’s something I experienced with my grandmother, as she declined from brain cancer. As hard as it was to handle her passing, I felt guilty for feeling relief. Not for myself — I felt relief that she was beyond the pain, confusion, and anxiety that her illness had caused her.
It’s something I’ve had to come to terms with, too. Intracranial hypertension causes brain damage, and it’s very likely that I will suffer a stroke at some point and either die, or have to fight my way back from that. Sometimes, you have to mourn for yourself. The important thing is to process this grief, then get on with the hard work of living. For Jones, that was raising awareness. For my grandparents, it was my grandfather feeding, dressing, and bathing my grandmother. For me, it’s working a little more every day to try to regain some ground before I lose more of it.
I guess what I’m trying to say here is that it doesn’t matter if you’re part of an artist’s primary audience. Life’s too short to miss the concert you want to go to, or to overlook a book just because it’s intended for children. Eventually, like the Three Raindrops, we all become part of the same big, muddy puddle. Draw inspiration and spiritual nourishment anywhere you can.
Note: This post contains affiliate links to some of the items that appear in my pictures. These links allow me to earn a small finder’s fee, at no additional cost to you. Thank you for helping to support artists, artisans, and this site!
I love the Nine of Pentacles. In most Rider-Waite-Smith-inspired tarot decks, she just radiates peace and contentment. She’s in her garden, everything is lush and verdant, nobody’s bothering her, and the entire scene is the absolute distillation of serenity.
The Nine of Pentacles has big “The Merchant’s Wife at Tea” energy, and I am extremely here for it.
The Merchant’s Wife at Tea, painting by Boris Kustodiev.
I didn’t have anything weighing that heavily on my mind when I drew this week’s card — really, I just wanted to see what’s coming down the pike. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier.
In virtually every respect, from love readings, to health, to spirituality, the Nine of Pentacles indicates that a reward is coming. In the RWS tarot, the woman stands in front of what appears to be a garden, indicating that the blooming pentacles are the reward for her toil and tending. Since it’s a nine, it isn’t the ultimate culmination of the suit’s cycle, but it’s very close. The hard work is appreciated, the foundation is stable and the growth steady. The reward is on its way.
Aura moon from The Promote Peace Shop. Big Herkimer diamond from The Elusive Herk Shop. Cards are the Crow Tarot.
Even in terms of advice, the Nine of Pentacles says to remember who got you where you are. You put in the work, and you reap the good that you sow. Your discipline, work ethic, and sacrificing is what got you to this point.
Lately I feel like I’ve been doing a lot of waiting again. My partner and I have completed a lot of writing, so now it’s up to editors and beta readers. I’m still waiting to hear back about my coursework. Other aspects of our lives are up in the air now, too, waiting on a rubber stamp or the stroke of someone else’s pen. The Nine of Pentacles is a sign that this waiting isn’t a waste of time — we’ve put in a lot of hard work, and the fruits of our labors are coming to us. That’s something I’ve felt, and something I’ve wanted, but didn’t really want to get my hopes up about. Getting a message that spells it out so explicitly is a really, really good feeling!
Marble Crow 