ten of swords / three of cups
A friend along the path.
Today was a much needed river walk with my best friend. With whipping cold on our cheeks we found peace along the lines of lapping water. The James has always been a temperate place to cool my fiery heart; my Aries moon doesn’t know when to rest except when my Taurus sun reminds me to. Winter river walks are not be as interesting to the average person, which makes them even more beautiful to me. Twisting branches, naked and alive; evergreen vines that should not be; graffiti peeking through old structures no longer used in modern times.
Northern Sea Oats along the James
We walked, we talked, we sat, we cried. I spoke of my sadness lately (thankful that she knows what, no need to reopen old wounds) and she spoke of her own anxieties keeping her up at night. Cathartic, as it should be. I felt my head rest into her shoulder, her arm wrapped into mine.
“So that book is gonna help, isn’t it?” I asked, referring to the gift I handed her just moments before. I felt a tear come from me, the same tear that fell from her. I knew, before I ever even truly knew, what she needed to help her journey. I felt some hope in that moment.
She, a Libra, told me of a smoke cleanse ritual that she participated in. To help clear her mind, her spirit, as we’ve both been bombarded by evils we try not to speak into our lives. They creep in through blue lights and overheard conversations, basking in our soul while we try to fight them off.
Then, a tarot reading that put it all into perspective: “No, you will not get what you need right now, but it is coming. You must first shake what you once knew, and then you can continue.”
I felt small chills through me that could have been mistaken for the weather. I knew better, though.
“First, it was the ten of swords: an image of a man face-down, with ten swords in his back.” A reminder of the past, if you let it back in.
“Then, the three of cups: three women, holding up cups and celebrating.” Good things are coming, but only when those old habits die.
I didn’t leave everything at the river today, but I released enough to know I’m better than I was yesterday. My hope has waned dramatically the past week, through no fault of my own, and I was in the presence of a much needed reminder to not give up.
“Because if I give up, how does everyone ELSE feel, that have never felt hope before in their lives?”
Its scary to think of, the point of all of this… some days it doesn’t seem worth it to get out of bed.
But I try. For the sake of myself, for my son, for my loved ones. For my community. I have to.
Because if not me, then who?
Briars and honeysuckle and condoms… oh my!
“And remember… don’t give up hope, okay?”