Reaffirmed Faith

Recently, I can’t pinpoint if the cause is seasonal depression or simply an overwhelming bout of laziness, but I’ve been in one of the biggest craft droughts of my life. Part of it, I know, is because I’m in Texas. I can’t stand it here. The energy in this state sickens me. I can’t explain why, but I haven’t been able to lock down a decent spell since I’ve gotten home. I did one after the Orlando tragedy, but I was too full of grief to really seal it. I’ll officiate it when I get back to school.

Because of this lack of inspiration, I’ve felt my faith slipping. I’d sit down and leaf through the closest book on witchcraft and feel a sickening sense of skepticism. How could anyone believe this? What if none of it is true? What if it’s all just the placebo effect and we really are just alone and meaningless to anyone? What if there are no gods up there to love us?

But then, last night, my faith was restored. Not in a grand Water to Wine kind of way, and honestly not even in a positive way, but it happened.

Last night I was talking on Skype with someone I’m getting very close to. I was just absently shuffling around my tarot cards simply because I always have to have my hands doing something, nothing more. In the midst of my absent mindedness, the three of swords called out to me. Loudly. I sure as hell still haven’t memorized the meanings to all the cards, so I placed it to the side and decided on a tentative “I’ll check that later.” But then, as I kept shuffling, the five of swords jumped out at me as well. This one shook me.

I put the deck down and looked up the meanings.

I’ll spare you to boring textbook lesson, but to make it as basic as possible, a three of swords symbolizes a separation and the five symbolizes deceit. I couldn’t ignore this. That psychic intuition that I’d written off as hormonal anxiety sparked up and I couldn’t stop myself. I asked my friend if he’d been hiding anything from me.

He was. I never would’ve known if I hadn’t consulted my cards. Not only is he a wonderful liar (the divine folly of all Virgo men) but he’d enchanted me into this mindset of fantasy. I thought no ill of him. It was a mistake on my part, of course, I should’ve known better, but I couldn’t even focus on the betrayal at that moment. I was too amazed by the power of the cards that I held.

I didn’t outright ask them, I didn’t lay out the candles and the crystals and get into a meditative state on the seventh hour of the full moon. I was simply absently hanging out with my cards, and they knew something was wrong. They let me know.

My skepticism has dissipated. There is no subconscious way I could’ve known this. There’s no scientific explanation besides the energy that flows through all things.

I don’t know how to thank them, really. I was thinking of charging them under the full moon in a few days. But I feel closer to my deck and my religion than I ever have. Yes, I feel hurt by the person I foolishly gave my trust to, but I’m so excited that what I believe and what I love is real and genuine and raw that I can’t even feel devastated.

How bittersweet.


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