The Empress, according to Jessa Crispin, is sometimes an indication to do more rather than less, to revel in your fecundity, to make use of your resources as diversely as possible.[1]
The Empress has featured prominently in my readings over the last quarter, but I did not learn this about her until this last week … mere days after I was let go without notice from my position at the jewelry repair shop where I have worked, now, for just over eight years. My position was eliminated to make room in the budget for another sales person, a decision which speaks volumes about the company they were becoming. That sort of decision making is, of course, why I was already looking to leave, albeit on my own terms. The decision having been taken from me, I find myself feeling liberated rather than diminished. I am now free to embrace the empress.
This is not to say that I have not spent a great deal of the last week reeling. Even welcome change can be a shock. But, more than anything, I have spent the last six days working diligently at my art, my obligations to the HSA, and the maintenance of my home.
In the month since my last post, there have been so many things which I have tried to write about, but found myself wordless for a variety of reasons. But they all come down, I think, to this: capitalism is torture.
Yes, I am a historian. And, yes, I do know how hard people in pre-capitalist societies had to work to put food in their bellies. Frankly, that’s the point: most of what 21st Century capitalists know about the world before before 1865 is the lies they commissioned to make the past look nastier. Before our current level of labor specialization, before the theft of the means of production, peasants were oppressed but rarely starving, and they had the tools to grow their own food and manufacture their own goods, and sufficient surplus to trade for what they could not make. And let’s not even get into what a bad deal the agrarian revolution turned out to be, ten thousand years before the rise of industry.
Work is toil. Capitalism is torture. And in the week since I was “terminated” (think really hard about how fucked up that metaphor is for just a minute), I have been physically and spiritually healthier than I had in months. My allergies are receding, despite the early onset of spring. My sleep has improved in quality, and though I haven’t gone to bed a minute earlier, I’ve been getting up earlier and more energized.
I am adrift, now. My circumstances (fortunate in so many ways, compared to so many others, a fortuitous intersection of luck, privilege, and preparation) are such that I must find new employment.
But I am not rudderless. I have a trade. I have a number of other skills. And I am always willing and able to train. And, with a little bit of luck and maybe a bit of help, I might just be able to leverage myself into my own employer.
A few short pieces of my fiction will be available for sale, soon, as ebooks. And I’m going to keep submitting my novel for publication until I have the means to open my own publishing company(only about $500 with careful use of print-on-demand services). And my photos are even now for sale.
Expect to see more art here in the near future.
And expect to see more magic.
In the meantime, my apologies for my unreliable posting schedule.
—
- Crispin, Jessa. The Creative Tarot: A Modern Guide to an Inspired Life. New York: Touchstone, 2016. pp43-44