the clearest memories from my childhood center around my mother, the sun-chaser. i remember the hatred i felt toward my father for betraying her; i remember her crying after a post-divorce relationship ended; i remember her telling me her story in a whisper in my dark room as i lay in the top bunk of the bunk-bed i shared with my brother.
my mother’s making of me into her confidante provided me with gifts, but it was also a burden. (that particular realization took a couple of decades and reading the drama of the gifted child at my therapist’s request.) boundaries, in particular, have been difficult for me. for instance, right now, i want to divulge details about the story my mother whispered to me, because it feels like it is my story, too, even though it isn’t.
i love my mother, and i know she loves me, even if it hasn’t always been the kind of love i needed.
this particular iteration of the sun, from the wooden tarot, is one of the more unsettling ones i’ve seen. (though, honestly, the ones with babies are often pretty unsettling, in my opinion.) the fox-creature has no head, only a sunflower, while the sun itself has a stern-looking face. it’s easier to do a sinister reading of the sun when its imagery looks like this.
this week, darlings, seek joy where you can find it, but be mindful of the cost.
this week’s deck: the wooden tarot
this week’s gems: carnelian, agate, citrine