NINE OF PENTACLES
I am about to hand over my passwords, turn on my out-of-office responder, and begin the serious, thoughtful work of truly disconnecting and enjoying myself on my fortieth birthday. I hope that each of you will have the chance to take stock this summer, and to replenish reserves for the harvests to come.
I am lucky to have pulled this gorgeous card for my Leo birthday. As my friends are sick of hearing, I am a Leo Sun, Virgo Moon, and Scorpio Rising and my partner is a Libra Sun. This run of astrology from late summer to early autumn is my favourite, and I feel at home here in the burning depths of the year. The Nine of Pentacles represents this period, with burnished golds, reds, and oranges connoting a time of harvest and of plenty. I can almost taste the sweetness of those ripe tomatoes.
I rarely listen to Bright Eyes' album Fevers and Mirrors because it takes me to a dark place, but I have always been captivated by a line from the song 'The Calendar Hung Itself': “a row of ripe tomatoes where a secret was concealed”. It brings together nature and sexuality in a deep and unsettling way. Josephine Decker's film Thou Wast Mild and Lovely, too, feels like this card brought to life: a film set on a farm teeming with queer sexuality, split cabbage heads, writhing in the fields. These films and songs represent that liminal moment when summer ends and autumn begins: sex and abundance and regret and harvest mingled. Heart-breaking colours that look peaceful on the surface, but reveal an ambivalent depth: sublime and numinous. A row of ripe tomatoes where a secret was concealed.
In this card, the figure is older than some of the others in the deck, perhaps in her forties or fifties. Her serenity is apparent, the bird sitting peacefully on her head, the armful of produce, her calm view of the field, and a gentle hand on the pentacles, as though she isn’t too attached to them, doesn’t need to control them. There is plenty, she seems to tell us, there will be enough.
Pleasure and Abundance
What is abundance to you? What is pleasure to you?
The pentacles are earthly, material: they rule our routines, and our daily lives.
I’m thinking of my last decade, my thirties, and what I thought I was certain of: I was going into a career, I would have stability. Instead, I’ve moved to six jobs and six cities. I'm now less certain than ever.
The future itself is so unclear: violent atmospheres, weather systems, political systems. Unrest, disruption, even the possibility of revolution? Will old systems like jobs and careers feel less important than skills such as growing food, and knowing magic? I hope to be able to provide support to others, in whatever comes next.
My next decade will be different to the last. If I am lucky, I hope to learn more skills and wisdom to help with what is to come. I embrace witchcraft, earth knowledge, intuition, psychoanalysis, and grief work, and writing as a form of divination and incantation.
Like so many people, I have been indoctrinated by laws of consumption, competition, and scarcity. I am guilty of buying little chunks of happiness to get through the day. But true abundance, as this card tells us, is about where we spend our precious, precious attention, how we spend our time and our days.
I'm guided in this endeavour by the work of Adrienne Maree Brown whose book Pleasure Activism, offers a non-judgmental approach to sex, drugs, and bodies. Brown reminds us that in a world of manufactured scarcity, taking true pleasure in our bodies, our imaginations, and our relationships is an act of resistance. I was talking to some of you in the office hours about the work of The Nap Ministry. I love their suggestions for rest including slow dancing with yourself to slow music and drinking a hot drink in the dark at bedtime. One of this week's rituals is inspired by them! See their whole list here.
Writing Prompts
Write a passage, a poem, or a paragraph that contains the Bright Eyes line “a row of ripe tomatoes where a secret was concealed”.
Write about something new growing: a plant, an idea, a book, a person, a commune, a revolution, a wilderness, a force field, an atmosphere.
Write about a harvest. Take special care to write about the sensory experience of handline dirt, blades, tools, machinery. The scent of the earth turning over, the colours of the harvested forms. Are they ripe and fresh, sweet, and enticing, rotten, and decayed?
Writing Rituals
Eat a fruit or vegetable slowly, wash it, hold it, weigh it in your hands. Peel it or cut it open, lick the flesh, take slow bites, let the juices drip down your chin. Taste each mouthful and imagine the sunlight that has been captured so it can grow.
Take an afternoon nap. Set your timer for fifteen minutes and close the door, shut the curtains, or wear an eye mask, or put a flannel or pillow on your eyes. If you have some lavender or rosemary oil, a few drops on your pillow will be calming. Let your body relax into the darkness, breathe slowly and deeply. Don’t get up until the timer goes. Write down whatever comes to mind.
Tarot Spread or Journalling Prompts
1. Who do I need to be to receive pleasure? What is preventing me from this?
2. If no one was watching, and there were no parameters, what would I do to experience pleasure right now?
3. Why do I deserve pleasure?