Dispatch from the Wild Interior: October 8, 2020

Queen of Pentacles: What, among all your comforts, roots you? In the moments you feel safest, what hope rises up for your life? One of the gifts of strange times is the space for strange dreams, strange desires to make their way through the ordinary noise and catch your ear or your eye or crawl into your lap. Here’s the trick: you don’t have to do anything about it. Not today, not this week. The way sometimes you keep a stone in your pocket for a long time, rolling it around, forgetting it’s there until your hand happens across it, thumbing its flat or corruscated surface, keep this idea around and see where you encounter it. How it feels to meet it again in another room, another light, music from passing truck, a scrap of overheard conversation on the sidewalk. What is it your life has been trying to tell you? What have you known all along?