Some moments close in on you
inch by inch like some kind of trap sprung in an ancient temple.
Some spaces want you out.
They say, pull the eject lever
or risk peril
– the sweat-soaked moist and warm crevices of the unknown
despair stuffed in a throat and choked on,
risk finding out what happens
when you endure.
Last year I took a trip to the Reader’s Studio in NYC and came back super-charged and inspired. Afterwards I steeped myself in tarot and ritual. I explored. During a Beltaine ritual, and one of the first spreads after the trip, I pulled the Hanged One in response to the question – how can I accept imperfection? Continue reading