The Magician's List

The Fool journeyed a long time to find these items. Let's see what she brought back from the wide world.

Nov 15, 2023

Before us on the workbench, we find a sword, a wand, a coin, and a cup. Each tool sends The Magician into a different dream.

Part I: Swords (Considering and Passing On a Life of Crime)

The Magician told The Fool not to come back without a sword. This was hard to find. The Moon soared before the blade revealed itself.

By the time the sleeping traveler missed his weapon, The Fool was safe at home.

When I was very small, my green eyes learned to find the alpha. My unpierced ears listened hard for wants and needs. My small hands worked to comfort others.

Who has the capacity for dreams and imagination after all that work? Who wants anything after that but to lie down and sleep forever?

As I grew to be a teenager, I first noticed the sticky strands of patriarchy twined around my arms and legs. I took a good long look at what pulling those threads earned the girls around me. I discovered too late that cutting my hair short was going too far.

The boys in my class assumed I was a lesbian and ignored me as someone to date. They showed me an odd combination of homophobia and respect for boundaries. They were limited teenagers. In my community of origin, that was how women with short hair were interpreted. They learned from their parents.

I wanted connection and acceptance at that point more than I wanted self-expression. It was easier at that point to grow hair than courage. I grew it back out and everything settled down. I became lovable again.

I didn’t understand that the obedience being asked of me deserved some pushback.

Part II: Wands (Choosing the Worst Possible Time to Get Sober)

The most useful item on The Magician’s table is ignorance.

I was heavily dependent on alcohol by the end of 2019. I hid my addiction well under the guise of carving out space for feminine folks in the craft beer scene. I was drinking for the cause!

By then, I had parlayed this vice into a bartending and beer education role at a local German restaurant. Everyone I worked with was at least as addicted to alcohol as I was.

I hope it’s different now, but drinking during work was standard for bartenders back when I was in the game. Creating a fake bond with regulars over shots meant bigger tips. It meant getting to shop at the cushy Whole Foods instead of the frantic, crowded Market Basket. There were a lot of reasons to stay boozy. They all seemed reasonable until my psychiatrist leveled with me.

“Your drinking is cancelling out the effects of your medication. That’s why you don’t feel good.”

I spent a long time in therapy avoiding sobriety. But on January 26, 2020, I took my last drink. Does anyone remember what happened a couple months later that year?

The world shut down.

I feel unsettling gratitude that I was already a couple months sober by this time. I had some momentum. I had an AA coin in my pocket. I knew I had to do whatever it took to stay dry.

“Whatever it took” eventually meant “inpatient psychiatric care.” I’m grateful it was there when I needed it, even though I felt much less gratitude at the time.

The disruption in my life was worth the help I found.

We refill our cups however we can.

Part III: Coins (Taking Up Space Like NASA)

The Fool wanted to bring home the most incredible version of The Magician’s needs. She saw the array so clearly in her mind’s eye.

The world she walked couldn’t offer up what she wanted down to the detail, but she managed to check off every item on the list.

I believe my parents gave me the best parts of themselves, but they were working with a mixed bag. Getting the best of what’s on offer doesn’t mean needs are being met.

Children learn by asking questions. There was one that circled my mind on slinking panther legs. It darted away any time I looked straight at it. It would not stay still long enough for me to ask its name.

My grown eyes are faster, though. They see that cat-shape clearly. It extends a claw to scratch words on the wall: Why do you treat me like an unwelcome guest?

I love being alive. Each day, I go outside and my feet gladly take my weight. I enjoy the air in my lungs. I watch trees shake their sassy little leaves in the wind. I assure myself I belong.

Part IV: Chalices (Anglerfish Pie)

The Fool didn’t just explore the land to the borders of the sea. She searched the deep waters too.

By the time I was four, I had a deep-sea hidey-hole inside my mind. I was an anglerfish, my wonky little head-light showing me the way down. The dark pressure of the hole was easier than what waited in the waters above.

Once my mind learned how safe the hole felt, it started making more. After a while, it forgot how to handle life any other way. It’s lost in an underwater city now. As I dive deeper toward the little anglerfish each week in therapy, the water darkens to midnight blue, then black.

I hear the creature’s muffled voice.

Shards of shipwreck float upward past me.

The Magician has a plan for the items she asked The Fool to gather. She’s used this recipe before.

Last week, I learned how to make pie dough from my boss at the bakery. She quietly talked me through the steps. Her hands moved with equal peace. As we stood there in our floury aprons, she taught me that dough isn’t supposed to be fully blended at first.

“Look closely,” she instructed, “and you’ll see bits of butter studding the dough. Things are supposed to be a little grainy and separated still. If the butter starts to melt and smear, put the dough in the refrigerator until it cools and firms.”

It’s fine to take a breather.

It’s ok to take a rest.