Kaostic Tarot 014
the kids are alright...
Hello Darlings,
I know the equinox was a month ago. It’s still on my mind. Oregon keeps being Oregon, swinging through chaotic extremes, and everyone else seemed ready for spring or even summer to arrive while I was still turning one balanced day over in my hands.
I’m always cautious about believing the onset of spring in the Pacific Northwest. Sometimes I think we forget that the first day of spring brings equal parts light and dark. The equinox is a bargain. A balance struck for one day before tipping.
Balance isn’t constant. We call attention to it because we need it. When it’s lacking for too long, things go off kilter. It’s that center balance I struggle to find for myself. I know the inbetweens exist. But it doesn’t mean we’re on speaking terms.
I want that balance. I need that balance. I crave it with every ounce of my Caminess. But it isn’t usually mine to hold. I’ve tried to give it to myself in every way that I could, including balancing suns and moons in symmetry on my own skin.
But still, as it always does, the spring mania has set in. Everything is lush and green and any part of me that thought it was silly to be a little fairy witch again is out. It’s time to plant. It’s time to hide tiny cups in the garden so they fill with water for the bees and butterflies. It’s time to sow. Seeds yes. But also ideas. Intentions. Convictions. Can you sow a conviction? After last week’s practice to help dissipate some of that bracing I’ve been doing I feel like it’s time to follow through on intentions. And follow through, I’m finding, lives in the doing. The willingness to stop talking about the thing and just get to doing it.
I’ve spent countless hours on ideas for packaging the mixed decks. All the intentions and convictions in the world don’t mean shit if I don’t get the thing done. If I don’t connect the right deck with the right person. So yesterday, instead of pondering packaging for the millionth time, I went down to the basement and grabbed an old roll of Christmas wrapping, the paper scissors, and an old sheet. Then I turned that sheet into a tarot roll. Basic form factor nailed on first try. Hand sewn with three different threads to see which one I like most. It’s ugly as can be. But I made it. And I will keep making them. Keep showing up.
The Reading…
The Cup, The Bee, The Flower. A three-card spread for the small things. The cups you fill. The bees that find them. The flowers that come. Spring’s most important work, like the seed, comes to fruition in its own time.
Card 1 — The Cup. What you’re putting out. The offering you’re making, even when no one is watching. The water you’re leaving in tiny vessels. Not what you wish you could give. What you are actually giving. Small. Huge. Somewhere in between. It all counts.
Card 2 — The Bee. What finds your offering. Who shows up. What’s drawn to the thing you’ve quietly been making available. Who actually arrives. Trust what does.
Card 3 — The Flower. What blooms because of all of this. The result of the giving and the receiving and the showing up. Through the fucking magic of pollination. Not the result you ordered. The one that’s actually growing. Look at it…
The Deck…
Zerner-Farber Tarot, 1997. By Amy Zerner (artwork) and Monte Farber (co-design + guidebook). Published by St. Martin’s Press. 78 cards, approximately 2.25” × 4”, borderless.
This is a reworking of The Enchanted Tarot (1990) by the same pair — same artwork, cropped and unbordered, with more vibrant color.
The artwork is fabric collage. Embroidery, appliqué, fabric printing and transfer. Dreamlike. Lace alongside Victorian ladies, Buddhist monks, medieval knights.
Do you ever not notice something because even though it isn’t “right” it is so right that it’s as though it is in fact exactly as it should have been? This deck has Hearts. Hearts as Cups. When you map a standard deck of playing cards to tarot, Hearts and Cups are the alignment. I’d shuffled this deck, read with this deck, and it wasn’t until I was photographing it that I absorbed there were Hearts where the Cups should have been.
The court cards are Princess, Prince, Queen, King — no Page or Knight. The suits are Hearts, Pentacles, Swords, Wands.
The cardstock is thin. Delicate. Reviews say it doesn’t hold up to heavy shuffling and I believe them. My copy is well-loved. Soft at the edges. The kind of softness you only get from a deck that’s actually been read with, not just admired.
The original packaging is a black velvet bag with purple silk lining and a purple tassel. The credits printed on the back of each card are so small you almost miss them. It’s a good thing too because The bag and the credits together are how you know what deck you’re holding. The devil really is in the details. The deck is too.
If you want a fresh copy with sturdier cardstock, Schiffer reissued it in 2024.
The Garden…
I can’t really deny the spring of it all anymore. Signs of spring keep showing up in real life. Not just the cards. New beginnings abound. I have new neighbors. The kind of neighbors that seem worth knowing. The kind who said yes when I asked about doing something with our shared driveways that doesn’t center cars.
The driveway is concrete. Long, narrow, full sun. The only spot on the property that can host anything that needs more than an hour of shaded sunlight to survive, which is to say: this is where the witch garden lives now.
I’m building it out from things we have here at home already. Black garden tubs from years past. Tomato cages and trellises and bamboo sticks. Tea cups, saucers, and bowls that don’t have a tea party to attend. The garden can host their tea party, the bees and the butterflies will attend, and visit plant starts, flowers, and herbs.
And the giant monster mint growing in the back yard can move into its own tub before it stages a coup.
That’s it…
Go do something lovely.
Love love love,
Cami