Even though the word makes me feel like a new age freak, I have written before about having a small personal altar, but the previous incarnation used to be a little smattering of objects on my side of the headboard. Now that we have a giant fucking house for 2 people & a dog, I have my own office, which has become my less-little bigger-smattering of objects, full of tiny altars to different things, including this one:
altar? i hardly know'ar!
It looks like I know anything about crystals; I donât, I mostly just like rocks. I know they have meaning & Iâll sometimes pick up a specific one if Iâm looking to stay mindful of that specific thing, but largely to me they are pretty & sparkly & impress upon me that nature is crazy. Actually most of this is nature & how awesome I think it is: turkey feathers & birch shavings & tiny bones & tiny pinecones & butterfly wings. The skull is solid stone, a present from M for some gift-giving opportunity, or just because. I also have a card about Blanca, patron saint of comfy sweaters who personally knitted one of the coziest ones in my closet, & my favorite photo of M & me.
I decided to dive back into a small thing I started doing when I first set this up. I pull a card from three different decksâBrian Enoâs Oblique Strategies (digital version), a holographic RiderâWaite tarot set + Jessica Doreâs Tarot for Change, & Dirt Gemsâ& usually marvel at the way they seem to coincide with each other.
I spent the week thinking about this spread.
REPETITION IS A FORM OF CHANGE
This one struck me as I pulled it. Oh, I immediately thought, of course it is. Repetition is a path to change. Repetition is a form of change. Change becomes itself through repetition, & through repetition change changes into stasis, & then the cycle starts all over again.
card from Oblique Strategies, drawing mine
Staying the same while everything changes around you is a form of change. We experience time as linear. Not changing is like driving in a straight line & stopping for nothing: youâll technically be doing the same thing, but the view out the window is sure as shit going to change. Soâs the feel of the ride & your suspension & other car words I canât fake knowing how to use in a sentence (Iâm not a car person). I donât think you can say you stayed the same if everything around you is differentââyou canât separate yourself from all that context all around you.
I think Iâve always been afraid of changing [too much/not at all]. I guess it might seem silly to be afraid of both, but thatâs me. I look back on past versions of myself like damn, who were they??? How did they get here??? Where did they go??? & yet I look at myself sometimes & think, still the same old me, even after all these years. Earlier Kirins got me to here, I understand theyâre all connected, I just feel like I donât have access to them anymore, like cocoon layers I thought I was shedding for good it turns out are more like onion layers mostly-but not entirely-disconnected. I realize as I write this that, while I think Iâve eaten this thing exactly one (1) time in my whole ass life, I am talking about a Blooming Onion of the self: a thing split open & laid out & fried, but still ultimately stuck together, time continuing to pull it apart. Well, I tried, but it turns out it doesnât quite work to use Outback Steakhouse as a vessel of poignancy.
THE CHARIOT
my hand holding the chariot
Yoked to the riddle
were the words I finally landed on to synthesize what Iâd read about this card, & what it made me think about. This card is also about change, about moving forward, & about wrangling the mysteries of life into something like balance, hence all the dichotomies in the imagery, yin & yang, civilization & nature, sun & stars, control & submission, power & impotence.
Most guides will talk to you about ambition, willpower, & success. Dore has a bit of a reactionary take, but one I appreciate, writing about how Americans canât conceive of the failure of willpower. What happens when we canât wrangle the mysteries? What happens if we canât muscle our way out of this one just by yanking on the reins? What happens when weâre stuck on this ride, like, literally our legs have disappeared and weâre just a torso smushed onto the platform of a weird chariot being drawn by two tittied sphinxes?
Yoked to the riddle would be a good way to articulate how I feel about life. Here I am, yoked to this thing I often find hard to understand. Iâm trying my best to keep this bizarre vessel in driving shape, and to enjoy the ride. (Another car metaphor, too. Coincidence? Or just a staggering lack of imagination on my part?)
GINGER
First, the Latin name of ginger, zingiber officinale, is fun & also weird. Zingiber stemming from the old Tamil iĂącivÄr, which means ginger root. Officinale from the Latin officina, meaning a workshop or manufactory, used to denote plants often used in herbal medicines that would have been sold by an apothecary.
Ginger is an unobstructor, an herb to release blockages. It cleanses & reduces inflammation & improves circulation & combats nausea & pain. Ginger is a chariot of change. A phrase from Dirt Gems re: ginger was fire for the oceany tissues, which I fucking love. Ginger is a controlled burn that is coming for the dams youâve built within yourself. Let it go. Spice it up. Release what is holding you back. Let your oceany tissues flow.
On a mundane note, we love ginger in this house, weâre ginger stans. Slap some ginger on/in something & itâs guaranteed to taste better. A dish is hard pressed to have too much ginger for us.
beginnerâs animation by me
LASTLY, LATELIES
đ Middlemarch, by George Eliot (a reread for me, still 5âď¸)
đ˝ď¸ âHausuâ (1977)
đś Bloc Party - Silent Alarm
đş âDetroitersâ
đŽ Okami (guys Iâm obsessed with this game)
ă°ď¸ă°ď¸ă°ď¸ă°ď¸
I actually really enjoyed setting out to write about this over a week. The disparate elements made it easier for my brain to think laterally, and I especially appreciated that the exercise gave me fun ideas for visuals. Was this interesting to you at all? Whatâs up in your world? Write me back, if you wanna.