After RBG
Earlier today, several hours before we got the devastating news that Ruth Bader Ginsberg had died, my partner and I were talking about the state of deep collective grief and fear we are living in right now. Grief: for the countless Black boys and girls and men and women who have lost their lives to state violence. For the undocumented women and men and children being forcibly separated and forcibly sterilized and forcibly imprisoned for the crime of living on the wrong side of an imaginary line drawn in the blood of their ancestors. For the indigenous people who have sustained the longest and deepest wounds of white supremacist colonization. For the queer and trans kids who die by suicide. For the disabled folks whose bodies and minds have been subjected to medical experimentation, capitalist exploitation, and social segregation. For the 2.3 million people currently incarcerated in U.S. jails, prisons, and detention centers. For the nearly 1 million people who have died from COVID-19. For the people, animals, and forests that have been destroyed by wildfires. For the 400 species that have gone extinct in the past 100 years. For the earth itself.
Fear: of the rise of fascist ideologies, of the absolute disregard the current U.S. administration has for humanity (not to mention the environment), of the erosion of what democratic ideals we could claim, of the end of truth, of civil war, of an apocalyptic dystopian nightmare coming closer each and every day.
You know, the usual. And then: RBG (Rest In Power). The news shattered me, much like our last illusions of democracy are currently being shattered. I admire RBG for being a badass boss bitch, and I also cannot for the life of me understand how she could be friends with Scalia. But my personal feelings aside, I think like many other people, my thoughts almost immediately turned to the fate of the nation.
My first thought: We are so, so fucked. My second thought: I can’t believe the fate of the nation depended on one person.
But here’s the thing: these thoughts, while completely understandable, are not actually a reflection of the truth. They are a reflection of the conditions of our current reality and its impoverished imagination. They are a reflection of the extreme limitations imposed on our psyches by the capitalist settler colonial nation state. Chief among these limitations: the inability to imagine anything beyond the capitalist settler colonial nation state.
In reality, the fate of our society does not in fact depend on one person. It depends on a lot of people. Democracy, for all its flaws, does rest on the premise of consent of the governed. And we know that the United States has historically fallen abysmally short of that potential — indeed, the only reason it has ever gotten anywhere near that potential is because of the powerful social movements that have demanded inclusion for groups that our esteemed founding fathers did not imagine to be capable of self-governance (women, Black people, queer people, and disabled people, to name a few).
And here we are, at the breaking point. The internal contradictions of settler colonial white supremacist heteropatriarchy have finally become too heavy of a burden for our fragile "democracy" to bear. And it’s crumbling. Or, to put it another way: the Emperor’s nakedness is now being broadcast live via Twitter. (Interesting twist on 2020 as an Emperor year…)
We may be witnessing the beginning of the end of the American empire. And I for one, am not mad about that.
To be clear, I’m not saying don’t be scared. There is a group of fascist white supremacists who are trying to gain control of the most powerful nation in the world. It’s fucking terrifying. Our highest office is held by a power-hungry sexual assaulter who has no demonstrable morals, shows zero indication that he will vacate the presidency willingly, and is currently attempting to sabotage the electoral process by any means necessary. (AND, it should be noted that the people who are at highest risk are the ones with the least power and fewest resources. So before you start planning to move to Canada, maybe just think on that for a hot minute.)
We’re all allowed to be scared. We’re allowed to be immensely upset, because shit is upsetting. We are entitled to have all the feels, and then some.
The question is: what are we going to do with our fear? Are we going to fully acknowledge it, allow it to be here, and then respond to the fearful part of us with compassion and kindness? Or, are we going to push it away and numb ourselves with alcohol/ sugar/our favorite form of addictive entertainment media? (No shade here: coping mechanisms are real, and important. But also ultimately probably not going to help us get where we want to go.) Are we going to channel our frustration and rage into self-destructive behaviors and/or self righteous complaining within the confines of our respective filter bubbles? Or are we going to take this as a call to action for every single one of us who gives a shit about what happens to this planet?
Because those are the stakes, let’s be real. And unless you’re a nihilist, something tells me you do care. And you do want to do something. If you’re like me, though, wanting to do something doesn’t always translate into actually doing a thing. You probably have a number of immediate concerns to tend to (going to work, paying rent, childcare, trying to maintain your mental health in the middle of a pandemic apocalypse…). You also probably lack a clear vision of exactly WHAT you personally could do to make a difference. And, again if you’re like me, you may also have all kinds of pesky anxieties and insecurities along the lines of "I don’t know what I’m doing/I’m not even that good at things/What if I do the wrong thing?" And then at the exact moment you’re having those thoughts, the existential dread and hopelessness starts to sink in, and pretty soon you become convinced that the only realistic thing to do is take a Xanax and settle in for a Hoarders marathon.
Again, I’m not here to shame anyone (goddess knows benzos and binge-watching have gotten me through a lot in my life). Instead, I want to offer an invitation: rather than succumbing to the (completely understandable) desire to numb yourself from the feelings of existential dread and hopelessness, what if you could radically transform those feelings altogether? Instead of feeling utterly exhausted, demoralized, hopeless, and inadequate, what would it be like to feel energized, inspired, hopeful, and confident? Seriously, take a minute to just envision what that might possibly feel like. And then imagine what you might be able to accomplish if you truly felt like you had an important part to play in a powerful movement that had the ability to change the world.
Now, what if I told you that all you need to make this happen is a candle and a deck of cards?
Welcome to witchcraft 101.
Oh, also forgot to mention: in addition to the candle and the cards you need to bring an attitude of suspended disbelief and open-mindedness. That’s the hardest part, obviously. It took me approximately 36.5 years to get there (and I’m probably still at around 29% cynicism, even on my good days). It’s extra hard if you were trained in academia or any institution that values positivism and empirical data above all else (and let’s recall that academic knowledge production is deeply entwined with imperialism and the violent suppression of traditional indigenous knowledge — including many practices that fall under the category of "witchcraft"). It’s also difficult if your upbringing was dogmatic or religious (including, for some of us, dogmatic anti-religion, aka atheism).
Because yes, I’m essentially suggesting that you should believe in magic. And look, if you’ve made it this far you’re probably either curious or desperate enough to give it a shot. Like, what do you have to lose? Your self-respect? Please. You already admitted that if you weren’t reading this blog right now you’d be knee-deep in old newspapers and cats.
[Side note: as I was writing this, Spotify randomly started playing a Donovan song I’ve never heard before in my life called "Season of the Witch." Yes, the universe is trolling me. I’m here for it.]
So, yeah. Witchcraft. 100% recommend for all ages. I could go on and on about how awesome and life-changing it is, and how it saved me from a miserable existence filled with stress, anxiety, and way too many benzos. But rather than simply extolling its virtues, I want to share with you some evidence.
Tonight, after a few unsuccessful attempts at numbing my own fear and existential dread, I decided to turn to one of my favorite witchy tools: the Tarot. I pulled three cards to answer three questions:
1. What do we need to be focusing on right now?
Seven of Cups. This card contains a strong message that now is a time for imagining possibilities. Cristy C. Road writes, "The 7 of Cups asks you to close your eyes and imagine your greatest reality. The one closest to home and furthest from suffering." As an important step on our journey to find deep emotional fulfillment and joy, the Seven warns against accepting any of the existing available options and dares us to dream bigger. We don’t know if it’s possible to reach any of those dreams but one thing is for sure: if we cannot envision the reality we want, we will definitely never get there.
2. What direction do we need to take?
Eight of Wands. If the Seven of Cups asks us to dream about the future we want, the Eight of Wands asks us to take bold, direct action to make those dreams come true. According to Cristy Road, "the 8 of Wands signifies freedom from the limitations of society. He leaps forward, trailblazing a concept, or sacrificing an outdated sense of security, for the sake of sharing his truth." Coming on the heels of the Seven of Wands, which invites us to courageously stand up for our beliefs, the Eight makes it clear that now is the time to act. Don’t let your lack of clear direction stop you from doing. Try something. Throw the spaghetti at the ceiling and see if it sticks. The worst thing that can happen is you make a mess, and guess what: the world is a mess. The choice we have to make is whether or not we are going to sit back and watch the train wreck, or roll up our damn sleeves and do the work. Yes, it’s uncomfortable, and yes, someone on the internet might yell at you. But are we going to let our fragility keep us from doing everything in our power to fight fascism? Are we going to let our self doubt get in the way of being of service? The Eight of Wands says: "breathe into your highest self with direct action, mutual aid, and emotional availability."
3. How can we sustain ourselves during this time?
Four of Pentacles. We need to nurture our root systems and nourish ourselves in spaces that hold us and protect us. In a moment when there is so much external violence and hatred, it is imperative that we build ourselves a home base that will provide the physical, emotional and spiritual sustenance to get us through. "The 4 of Pentacles learned to nurture her roots, her ancient wisdom and ancient tools, while simultaneously embracing the knowledge and progress that comes with existence." This card reminds us that we have access to a source of great power if we choose to accept it. White supremacist capitalism has been trying to sever the connection between people and their innate forms of knowing for centuries, but this spiritual connection is available to everyone. My interpretation of these cards is coming through because I learned how to access that connection. (And if I was able to figure it out, despite my rigid atheist academic background, I promise: you can too.)
I am offering this reading in the hope that these cards might offer some insights or guidance during this time — but also as an invitation to encourage anyone reading these words to start to investigate your own forms of innate wisdom and knowing.
What are you being invited to pay attention to right now? What secret dreams or hopes have you all but given up on? What future do you long for, and how are you being called to show up in the world? What actions are you uniquely positioned to take? And what forms of care can you offer yourself in order to sustain your ability to act?