Meme courtesy of Vanessa Hardy, my friend and an astrological genius
Welcome to Dream Interpretation for Dummies, where Dear Abby meets Native Americana. Come to the campfire, peer into the yawning grave, and take a dive into the collective subconscious… or maybe just explore some weird clown imagery. We’ll wait for you here.
Howdy Note: I have a Patreon and offer subscriptions to this newsletter. Both options come with the same benefits, I just wanted to make it as easy as possible for you to sign-up!
Good morning, my beloveds,
Long time no see! I’m sorry I’ve been so distant, but I’ve been in the metaphorical wilds. You know how that goes. I’ve been working, and working, and working. And writing, too. And thinking about the future of this newsletter, about the shape and the scope of it. More essays, I think. More dreams, too. But, for this week, just a little check-in, just a little reading for us. Like old times.
If you’re been interested in what I’ve been up to lately, you can always check out my Insta or the most vulnerable essay I’ve ever had published (EEK!) or my second adventure on How to Be Human pod! I’d sure be glad if you did, but, as always, no pressure.
Alright. Shall we?
A READING WHICH IS A MEDITATION ON WHAT HAS BEEN LOST AND WHAT SHALL RETURN (IN SHORT):
THE KNIGHT OF CUPS — The knight rides forward with a message, and it feels even more potent because his suit is of Cups, suit of dreamers. His voice is soft, weathered. We lean in to listen. He says, “The world is long and you are in it. There is a skin that has been made around your heart. Do not be afraid to shed it as a snake would. You are afraid. So am I. But we are afraid together.” We let ourselves into that vulnerability. We vow to express our emotions this week, especially the ones that feel most embarrassing, that show our softest parts. The knight rides away and we miss him as he does.
THREE OF CUPS — Three figures shrouded in colorful clothing stand before us. They are in a well, gathering and pouring water, an endless cycle. They pause their work for a moment to speak, in unison so perfect it rings in the ears: “Where is your victory? Where is your celebration?” We open our mouth to speak but they turn back to the water. At least, we think, they are together. Perhaps that is the point.
THREE OF COINS — A suspected mirage. Three coins floating in the air. They look like no currency we’ve ever seen. We expect our hands to pass through them, but they are solid. Heavy. Silken. They have no mouths but we hear them just the same. Like the wind. Like the sea. They say: “You are not alone.” Then they disappear. We have questions, we do, but they are becoming less tangible the more we think about them. All we are left with is the sudden urge to go home. To call someone we’ve been thinking about. To send them a photo. An email. A hug. The fear that we are a bother is slowly slinking out of us, purging itself in the sand. A path has created itself before us… if only for now.
Thank you.
I would love to know what resonated with you — if anything — and how you’ve been!!! I hope you can feel my appreciation for you, even through it all.
Your very own,
Howdy
You can now support this publication on Patreon or here.
Fancy a trip to Dreamland, pardner? Send your best to sadboyhowdy@gmail.com!
"The fear that we are a bother is slowly slinking out of us, purging itself in the sand." Really needed this today
beautiful to have these images and symbols and ideas and inspirations -- and to have you back, though it was also beautiful to have you away, because it's important and nourishing to know you were doing what you needed to do. so thank you for your brief absence, and for your return.
as for me, i'm running this line: "Where is your celebration?" over this one: "We are afraid together." crossed over by this one: "We have questions, we do, but they are becoming less tangible the more we think about them."