The Knight of Swords atop the 8 of Cups.

The 8 of Cups shows the human heart fully immersed in a state of love and beauty. Not just the idea of love or beauty, but really being immersed in a state of being where you feel wonderfully raw and open, where you are perceiving the preciousness of life and are ever so thankful for it. The state of being you might feel when you find yourself unexpectedly emotional and lovey-dovey from the smallest things. We all have the potential access to this state, but we also have barriers that impede our connection to the sweet nectars of beauty that are seeking to seep into our consciousness.

The Knight of Swords, placed on top of the 8 of Cups, represents these barriers, these agents of stagnation, these unconscious attachments to pain or numbness. The Knight is the voice of cynicism I hear in the back of my head when I write the words “beauty”, “love”, or “preciousness”. The Knight gives form to that bitter, crotchety, crumbling hermit who berates everything and judges everyone. He is especially critical of anything that behooves him to stop fighting the world and let himself feel the pain he is resisting within himself. He belittles love and beauty because, in order to experience love and beauty, one must be open to feeling anything. And to be open to feeling, to open the heart, is inherently vulnerable.

The Knight of Swords in my head actually has my interests in mind. He wants to protect me from feeling pain. So he tries to keep the heart closed.

What’s at the root of these emotionally defensive tactics? The King of Swords, placed at the bottom of the spread.

The King of Swords is sour because he’s been hurt, rejected, and ignored. He doesn’t want to feel, because if he does, it’ll mean feeling the pain of not being loved and the rage he has as a result. If he lets himself feel, it’ll mean hearing the little kid in his belly that is screaming, “Love me! Love me! LOVE MEEEEEEE!” The child is loud (because he’s in pain) and the King would really rather not have such racket in the house.

If I remove the Knight of Swords from atop the 8 of Cups and instead place it below the 8 of Cups, he can be seen not as an opponent to the heart, but as its ally. Instead of using his sword to attack the heart, he uses the blade to gently puncture the heart’s points of stagnation, to open the blockages, to let the feelings flow freely. He represents those moments in life in which one has been pushing through the days while trying to keep their hurt dammed up at the waysides of their awareness until, one day, the hurt becomes too much, the dam bursts, and the pent-up emotions come bursting out and you find yourself crying very inconveniently at a bus stop.

When the emotions start to circulate and rise to the surface, there might be pain. But if it’s allowed to move and be seen, heard, and felt, it will eventually pass. And when it has transpired, with the heart remaining open, that’s when we rediscover our capacity for beauty and love. We start to be grateful for the pain and how it has helped us--as absurd or impossible as that may seem when we are entrenched in it. We find ourselves able to behold and appreciate the preciousness of whatever life is around us. A stranger’s voice on the bus. The simple elegance of a plant outside your bedroom window. A memory of something silly one of your parents said when you were small. A romance movie that I might be embarrassed to watch with anyone else, but which had me bawling sweet tears of, “Oh my goodness, life is beautiful!” Definitely not The Notebook or About Time…

There’s always love and beauty to be felt, but the pain we accumulate and carry with us can impair our connection to it. When we open the heart, allowing our emotions to flow and be felt, we give that beauty a chance to start dripping in. A cup that is covered might be protected from pain and poison, but it’s also going to be cut off from everything sweet and nourishing, the absence of which creates a pain in itself. The cup, on this metaphorical table and in the tarot, is the heart and our relationship to our emotions.

The Page of Cups, resting at the top of the spread, suggests to keep the heart open. “Open the heart” is such a common phrase that it might be easy to discard it as a hollow platitude, but it’s not! There’s huge magic and liberation to be found in that phrase if you take it to--wait for it… If you take it to heart!

The Page of Cups, whose cup and heart are always open, extends the invitation: “When a feeling passes through you, let it be felt. Give it your awareness. Listen to it kindly, without holding onto it, as you might listen to a child in pain. Listen to what it needs. Listen to whatever it is trying to show you or teach you. It’s usually trying to show us some part of ourselves that we’ve unconsciously neglected. We’re probably neglecting it because it wasn’t given the right kind of attention and affection by those around us when we were younger, but now, we can give it to ourselves.”

When children feel, they feel deeply. They scream, howl, and weep profusely. Snot flies out of their nose in alarming quantities that challenge one’s notion of exactly how much snot the human nose can produce (a lot). But you know what? Those same children can often be seen running around laughing and playing the very next minute.

Why is that?! Why don’t they wallow in their pain and let it stew and fester in their depths for days, years, or decades? Why don’t they postpone it until their midlife crisis?

It’s because when feelings come, children allow the feelings to be felt fully. Granted, they might not have a choice because they are incredibly sensitive and haven’t yet inherited the “off” button (or the “repress” or “rationalize away” buttons) that we somehow inherit with age. So the feeling comes. Knocks the wind out of them. They cry. They scream. If you’re hugging them, their nose is probably flooding phlegm all down your shoulder.

“Maybe eventually you’ll find yourself feeling enough love that, when those distressing emotional demons knock on your door, you’ll even be able to muster up some softness for them, make them a cup of chamomile tea with a touch of honey, massage their tired demonic toes, and ask them about their day.”

But then the pain dissipates. Joy returns and the child is playing again. Of course, this isn’t always the case. Of course, plenty of children stay stuck in their pain and carry it into the wrinkled mess of adulthood. What I’m trying to say is that, if we want some of love and beauty in our cup--and who doesn’t?--then the heart has to be open. And if it’s open, we’re going to be vulnerable. We’re going to be hurt. There’s going to be some downright nasty visitors pounding on its door, but there’s also going to be so much love! And maybe eventually you’ll find yourself feeling enough love that, when those distressing emotional demons knock on your door, you’ll even be able to muster up some softness for them, make them a cup of chamomile tea with a touch of honey, massage their tired demonic toes, and ask them about their day.

If we fight, ignore, or resist pain, it’s going to stick around until it’s addressed. It’ll fester. It’ll get louder, heavier, gnarlier. Maybe we’re not yet ready or able to address it. That’s fine.

The Knight of Swords supporting the 8 of Cups (an open heart).

If, on the other hand, we let the pain come up, give it space, hear its message if it has one (it usually does), then it will eventually pass. When it passes, we’ll find ourselves more open to love and beauty. It may not be an easy process, but it’s worthwhile.

“Love and beauty, love and beauty, love and beauty.” I know, it may sound like a broken record, but the importance of love and beauty and our innate capacity to access those states of being are well worth the extra emphasis. There is still a part of me that cringes when I write those flowery--but magnificent--words, but that is only because that part of me wants some love and beauty itself.

On my blog, you can find more writings on art and alchemical thinking, interviews about creativity, psychologically-oriented reflections on tarot, and more. You can check out past posts in the categorized list below.

If you’re interested having a tarot reading with me, one that is focused on how your subconscious and your perceptions shape your experience, click here. Readings can be offered in person in Santa Fe or online.

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Art
- Jul 2, 2018 About the Folks Who Think You Stink (Notes on Performance and Life)
- Jun 22, 2018 The Freedom and Fear of Being Yourself (Notes on Performance and Life)
- Apr 3, 2018 Public Alchemy: Notes on Street Performance
- Dec 1, 2017 Why the Tutu?
- Sep 14, 2017 Art is a Portal
- Aug 17, 2017 Put the Potatoes on Your Face
- Dec 28, 2016 How to Make Magical Oranges
- Dec 19, 2016 Wakey Wakey, Inner Kiddo
Interviews
- Jul 18, 2018 Artist Interview: Kayle Karbowski
- Jun 4, 2018 Artist Interview: Sally Nicholson
- Apr 23, 2018 Interview: Yogi Ron Katwijk
- Mar 1, 2018 Artist Interview: Lawrence Blackman
- Feb 21, 2018 Artist Interview: Samantha Blumenfeld
Magical Thinking
- Jun 21, 2023 Magick for Reshaping Life and Transmuting Trauma
- May 18, 2023 Magick is a Sentient Entity: Using the Imagination to Co-Create with Magick
- Dec 4, 2020 The Healing Voice: Wounds, Addiction, and Purgation
- Aug 5, 2019 Celebrating Your Misery
- Jun 21, 2019 White Peacocks, Constipation, and Emotional Liberation
- Aug 23, 2018 Melting a Snowball of Misery
- Jul 2, 2018 About the Folks Who Think You Stink (Notes on Performance and Life)
- Jun 22, 2018 The Freedom and Fear of Being Yourself (Notes on Performance and Life)
- Apr 16, 2018 Questions for Limitations
- Apr 3, 2018 Public Alchemy: Notes on Street Performance
- Jan 5, 2018 Chaos' Playground: Finding Gold in the Shitstorm
- Dec 1, 2017 Why the Tutu?
- Sep 14, 2017 Art is a Portal
- Aug 7, 2017 Three Reasons to Destroy Yourself (Or Not)
- Jul 6, 2017 Nerves and Tutus
- Feb 19, 2017 Why Does Heartache Happen?
- Jan 15, 2017 Following Fear
- Dec 28, 2016 How to Make Magical Oranges
Tarot
- Oct 24, 2019 TAROT QUESTION #5: Why does my skin crawl with wonder and fascination as such important relationships in my life are connected by the eyes?
- Oct 11, 2019 TAROT QUESTION #4: How long will it be until I have a new job?
- Sep 25, 2019 TAROT QUESTION #3: Why can't I find more hours in a day?
- Sep 3, 2019 TAROT QUESTION #2: Do abusers know they're being abusive, or is that just their sense of reality?
- Aug 25, 2019 TAROT QUESTION #1: Why is the Present Moment So Much All the Time?
- Aug 18, 2019 Today's Tarot: Shifting Pain by Surrendering to It
- Aug 13, 2019 Today's Tarot: The Golden Devils Inside You
- Aug 12, 2019 Today's Tarot: The Moon of Self-Loathing
- Jun 27, 2019 Today's Tarot: Snot, Beauty, and Tea for Pain
- Feb 28, 2018 Today's Tarot: The World is in the Seed
- Aug 26, 2017 Tarot as a Tool for Reality Construction

The most common response I’ve heard to my music performances is some perplexed variation of “What WAS that?” I am usually delighted to hear this, because that is my intent: to disorient us and deliberately take us out of our element. For some people, that bewilderment is enjoyable, for others it is “nonsense, total nonsense,” as an audience once told me in Seoul.

I think the word nonsense is spot on, even if he meant it as a criticism. If something in non-sense, it doesn’t make sense. What does that mean? It means that our habitual mode of perception can’t easily find a way to codify the experience. As a result, the mind is behooved to loosen the grip it has on its traditional shape and allow itself to stretch, bend, or expand in order to integrate the unfamiliar phenomena. Of course, the other option is that the mind can simply sweep it aside and stay the same. If we don’t resist the strange and perplexing, then we can find our minds growing and becoming more nimble. Neuroplasticity gets to work and the mind becomes unstuck, even if only for a small, subtle moment.

When I was traveling alone in Prague, I would spend most of my time without a plan, just wandering and seeing what caught my curiosity. On one of those meandering days, I was walking through a man-made maze of eight-feet-tall hedges, part of a garden nestled beside a castle. As I was walking through the maze and savoring the state of being lost in the haze of a grey day, I heard these squawks. Long, drawn out squawks that made me imagine a beak spewing out colored string. The bird-calls became louder, closer. I eventually walked into a square opening, surrounded on all four sides by towering, castle walls with a sizable square fountain in the center. Prancing around the perimeter of the square was a totally white peacock, the source of the color-strewn squawking.

Maybe most people know that white peacocks are a thing. I didn’t. No idea. The feeling of surreality I felt when I saw the pale bird was akin to walking into a field to find a great-grandmother you never met standing there, utterly and unfathomably violet. A purple great-grandma might be aesthetically different from a white peacock, but to me, both are similar in the degree to which they would challenge one’s preexisting conception of reality.

When I walked into the square of the pearly peacock, it felt like walking into a dream. Being confronted with something totally novel, something which doesn’t fit into one’s preexisting conception of reality, initiates a return to the state of wonder we don’t access as often as we did when we were children and the world was as fluid and vast as our imagination.

Experiencing something that challenges or shifts our habituated perception can be freeing.

Why?

The world is always fluid, dynamic, changing, and inherently creative. But humans have a tendency to lose touch with that. We get caught in habits. We develop routines and patterns of being and thinking. These patterns may be necessary and useful to navigate daily life, but if we become too entrenched in them, they can be imprisoning. They leave us thinking that life is narrow and that possibilities for change and wonder are miniscule.

When I perform, I want to create for myself an experience that allows me to depart from my daily patterns. I want to experience myself, the world, the people around me, and all of the feelings within us in a totally uninhibited way. I want the internal dam that keeps life at bay to come crumbling down so that the immense torrent of life’s waters can come bursting out and carry me with it.

What does this mean for a performance? It means striving to activate whatever emotions are present, letting them be as big as they want to be, and giving them expression that is as full and unencumbered as possible.

In daily life, the approach is, to some degree, the opposite. Keep emotions tame, contained, wrapped up. Emotions can be perceived as illogical or incomprehensible when they are let out in public. Socially speaking, we’re not supposed to let them out. They’ll run amok! They’ll disturb the flow of our collective stability! They’ll cause discomfort! Maybe we have a friend we can talk to openly—thank goodness for good friends who listen and support us in our messy moments—but for the most part, our culture teaches us from an early age how we are supposed to be and how we are not supposed to be, which usually entails the unconscious constipation of our full emotions.

This mass of emotional repression is precisely the reason why it feels SO DARN GOOD when we find experiences that allow us to access those buried parts of ourselves. And if it’s shared with others doing the same thing, it feels even better. It’s liberating. It lets wonder surge through us, blossoming into a cheek-stretching grin. It might feel ridiculous or uncomfortable, but it feels good. It can be as much of an explosive relief as we feel when, after hours or days of constipation, we finally let a tremendous , pent-up load fall from our bottom and plop into the toilet’s waters. Ahhhh. The relief. The lightness. It is a little embarrassing (though it shouldn’t be) how often my mind goes to digestive constipation as a source of analogy for our emotional repression, but the comparison always seems too relevant.

When people ask me after a performance, “What WAS that?” I would love to be able to express all of this to them. But really, I just want them—us—to feel. To allow ourselves to feel. Even if it doesn’t make sense. Even if it’s uncomfortable. Even if it’s painful (if we’re ready and if it’s not too traumatic to face at the moment). Because feelings are meant to felt! If a feeling is gurgling within us, it’s trying to tell us something or show us something. If we push it down, it won’t go away; it will get louder, bigger. If we let it come up and out, if we let ourselves be present with it (not to be confused with holding onto it), it begins to heal. It circulates, it breathes, and we start to notice what unmet need it was pointing at.

This is the main intention behind my performances. To create an experience of unfettered feeling and playful mind-opening. I want this for myself, but I also want to share it. Mostly because it feels so much better to do it together.

subscribe via rss

Art
- Jul 2, 2018 About the Folks Who Think You Stink (Notes on Performance and Life)
- Jun 22, 2018 The Freedom and Fear of Being Yourself (Notes on Performance and Life)
- Apr 3, 2018 Public Alchemy: Notes on Street Performance
- Dec 1, 2017 Why the Tutu?
- Sep 14, 2017 Art is a Portal
- Aug 17, 2017 Put the Potatoes on Your Face
- Dec 28, 2016 How to Make Magical Oranges
- Dec 19, 2016 Wakey Wakey, Inner Kiddo
Interviews
- Jul 18, 2018 Artist Interview: Kayle Karbowski
- Jun 4, 2018 Artist Interview: Sally Nicholson
- Apr 23, 2018 Interview: Yogi Ron Katwijk
- Mar 1, 2018 Artist Interview: Lawrence Blackman
- Feb 21, 2018 Artist Interview: Samantha Blumenfeld
Magical Thinking
- Jun 21, 2023 Magick for Reshaping Life and Transmuting Trauma
- May 18, 2023 Magick is a Sentient Entity: Using the Imagination to Co-Create with Magick
- Dec 4, 2020 The Healing Voice: Wounds, Addiction, and Purgation
- Aug 5, 2019 Celebrating Your Misery
- Jun 21, 2019 White Peacocks, Constipation, and Emotional Liberation
- Aug 23, 2018 Melting a Snowball of Misery
- Jul 2, 2018 About the Folks Who Think You Stink (Notes on Performance and Life)
- Jun 22, 2018 The Freedom and Fear of Being Yourself (Notes on Performance and Life)
- Apr 16, 2018 Questions for Limitations
- Apr 3, 2018 Public Alchemy: Notes on Street Performance
- Jan 5, 2018 Chaos' Playground: Finding Gold in the Shitstorm
- Dec 1, 2017 Why the Tutu?
- Sep 14, 2017 Art is a Portal
- Aug 7, 2017 Three Reasons to Destroy Yourself (Or Not)
- Jul 6, 2017 Nerves and Tutus
- Feb 19, 2017 Why Does Heartache Happen?
- Jan 15, 2017 Following Fear
- Dec 28, 2016 How to Make Magical Oranges
Tarot
- Oct 24, 2019 TAROT QUESTION #5: Why does my skin crawl with wonder and fascination as such important relationships in my life are connected by the eyes?
- Oct 11, 2019 TAROT QUESTION #4: How long will it be until I have a new job?
- Sep 25, 2019 TAROT QUESTION #3: Why can't I find more hours in a day?
- Sep 3, 2019 TAROT QUESTION #2: Do abusers know they're being abusive, or is that just their sense of reality?
- Aug 25, 2019 TAROT QUESTION #1: Why is the Present Moment So Much All the Time?
- Aug 18, 2019 Today's Tarot: Shifting Pain by Surrendering to It
- Aug 13, 2019 Today's Tarot: The Golden Devils Inside You
- Aug 12, 2019 Today's Tarot: The Moon of Self-Loathing
- Jun 27, 2019 Today's Tarot: Snot, Beauty, and Tea for Pain
- Feb 28, 2018 Today's Tarot: The World is in the Seed
- Aug 26, 2017 Tarot as a Tool for Reality Construction