Sun = 14*Gemini – Moon = 16*Sagitarius – Venus Retrograde
Aradia and I had Pasiphae and Aidan over last night for some Full Moon socializing. The place was a little too messy for a full-on Esbat (the Battle of Mount Laundry has yet to be won), but we did spend quite a bit of time with our tarot decks. Aidan purchased his first deck at Heartland, and Pasiphae managed to get her hands on a copy of the out-of-print Rohrig deck she had been coveting for years. After I gave Aidan a reading, he spent the rest of the evening playing with his new deck, trying to grok the Celtic Cross and the internal logic of the cards. Pasiphae as equally eager to break in her new toy.
I actually haven’t had anyone else do a reading for me in quite some time, so I took advantage of the opportunity. Bought gently used, she’s still getting to know the deck and attuning it to herself. It’s already got quite a personality: it doesn’t want to deal with piddly shit. It told me the same as I shuffled it; it also demanded a specific question rather than a general reading.
So I asked it to talk about the direction my magical practice is taking.
The central thesis here seems to be “Good job; now get to work.” The Moon (which was central to my monthly reading as well) and the Hanged Man tell me that there’s some important work I’ve been dodging around.
“What am I avoiding?” I ask. “I’m hip-deep in the biggest thing I’ve ever avoided in my magical career.” I was speaking of the planetary and ceremonial magical studies I’ve been doing, of course. I put that shit off for fourteen-odd years.
Aradia knows me well, though. She knows the answer. “When was the last time you visited the Underworld?”
“I … uh … don’t know.”
And … that’s unfortunately true. The deeper into the planetary magic I get, the more my visionary work has been left by the wayside. I could blame that on the fact that it’s not really a part of the system I’m studying—even if it is a major component of Penczack’s High Temple, which I’ve been using as an outline for my studies—but the fact of the matter is that I’ve just run into one too many things that have scared me when I’ve visited the Underworld.
Between the unsettling demands some of my newer spirit-allies have made of me, and my seeming inability to explore new territories without incurring new alliances and their attendant obligations… Well, let’s just say that I’ve become very, very good at finding reasons not to do Down. Smart people can be disturbingly good at lying to themselves. And with all the Work I have been doing—planetary talismans, the Stele of Jeu, puzzling my way (oh, so slowly) through Agrippa and my newfound relationship with my Natal Genius, and even the continuation of Deb’s New Year, New You, which I have fallen so far behind on in the last month—it’s been particularly easy.
“But wait!,” you (my dear readers) ask. “Didn’t you work your way through that already?” Yeah, I thought that I had. Apparently I hadn’t. It’s that bastard Dweller at the Threshold again.
So I’m setting myself a new goal: to descend to the underworld every Sunday and/or Monday night, regardless of whether or not there’s Work I think needs to be done. It’s time to face the Moon.
