in the last week, i’ve pulled the star twice and the moon twice. hope, renewal, and healing, with a side of mystery, introspection, and wildness. and today’s clarifying card of the ten of cups indicates that the tarot is pushing me towards a place of wholeness, openly flowing energy, safety and community. but what can stars and the moon tell me about how to reach that elusive ten of cups? how do we get from one to another?
after the foundation-breaking, world-shattering chaos of the tower’s destruction, we often find ourselves a bit dazed. the life that we thought we knew has irrevocably changed, a sudden shift that throws off our balance and requires us to evaluate everything with a clearer, perhaps more truthful perspective. our steps had been sure, our path seemed clear, and yet we were operating from a place that wasn’t nearly as steady as we thought. the cracks were beginning to show, and ultimately the tower has done us a favor by removing something we didn’t realize was broken - but that doesn’t mean that this loss isn’t painful, terrifying, maddening. in many ways it feels like we have to start again, when in reality we simply have to forge a new path based on a different premise.
when the dust has settled, when we can see our new world a bit more clearly, our heart slowly begins to heal. we start to find ways to let go of our broken past, the hurts and assumptions, and instead look forward with hope. we can almost see what may lie ahead, the new possibilities and potential within our reach, and imagine a future that resonates deeply with our richest dreams and most personal desires. there’s a purity to the star, an ability to see more clearly and truly. the worst has already happened, and we are somehow stronger for it. it’s not an overnight shift, not a sudden wave of peace and tranquility - rather, the star is the gradual restoration of dreams, the slow building of expectation and faith that things will turn out okay.
after the catastrophe, after hope slowly emerges, we take those first hesitant steps forward under the gracious, patient light of the moon. her gentle phases give us the escape we need into the shadows, acknowledge our pain and our growth, help us find balance between the mysteries of the subconscious and the realities we acknowledge in consciousness. the moon gives us permission to explore our wildness, to follow our instincts, to run free of expectation and howl and scream and find our way back to who we are underneath the lingering pain. we don’t have to be anything but ourselves under the moon’s quiet light. there’s space for mystery, for the unknown, and here we can acknowledge everything we don’t understand about our path forward. eventually, we’ll be ready for the sun’s blinding brilliance, ready to dance in the warmth and celebrate how far we’ve come - but this is a space for darkness, slow growth, secrets and dreams.
that space between the star and the moon, where we slowly emerge from the healing waters and take those first shaky steps - that’s the space i’m in right now.
in late march i lost my grandfather after a short week in the ICU, and barely a month later, lost my brother-in-law suddenly after an overdose. both losses have shaken the people i love, reshaping how we view our connections and how we take care of each other. both losses have forced me to once again consider death and life, blood family and chosen family, vulnerability and trust. and while these towers have changed everything, my slow shift to the star and eventually the moon give me hope for what is ahead.
the cards know where i am, know that i’m just starting to take those tentative steps forward on shaky legs, know that i’m so afraid to share these thoughts and keep pushing towards healing. but vulnerability is a strength, openness is a gift, and those mysteries i keep finding under the light of the moon only help me tap deeper into my own personal magic.
and someday soon, i hope i start to see the sun.