From the east a wind picks up, and she feels the rustle in her hair, then in her feathers, and then her senses come alive. Her magick is a little more direct than some of the other queens, and for that, she is grateful. She unfolds her wings of wisdom and knowledge, and stretches… looking out over her domain. She is the Queen of Voices and she speaks with an intensity that is so very direct that it cuts right through to the heart of the matter. Like an ancient soothsayer, her words are clever and riddled with profound insight. And there, in the wake of a million fluttering things, she always seeks the path that is rooted in truth, integrity, honesty and gentle knowing. Her words are strategically chosen with great care, and she is always able to speak what is right in a way that is also understanding and conscientious. Today, she beings news about the reality of your situation, and asks you to be impartial and honest about the facts. Then she tilts her head back, flares her nostrils and seemingly tastes the wind, gathering experience, perception and proof, and she smiles, ready once more to share her light and her life with the air around her, dispelling clouded judgement and sending tiny gusts of wind to help those who need to be whisked back on track.

Wings crashing down into the air to lift her massive body… the Knight of Voices makes the impossible look easy. He is quick to rise, and to bring massive speed and momentum to her world. He uses air speed, coordinates… the logic and reason of the gravity below him, and he hoists himself into the air as easily as she would a feather. Or, at the very least he makes it look easy, because his skill and his majestic way of being in the world are graceful and swift. He swoops in to play the hero again, and he is a calculating and quick ally. His intelligence acts as a conscious guide… and when his mind is sure he has the right answer, he gallops – or flies ahead with the determination to skip over mountains and to the make the world a better place. He wields his purpose like a sword, and cuts through the nebulous clouds to get him where he wants to go. He has big goals to conquer. Sometimes this self-assuredness and quick decision taking can make others feel like they are not being heard or listened to, and his sharp logic can come off as domineering or controlling when he speaks his mind. He doesn’t need to show off his knack for figuring things out… he doesn’t need to flaunt his talents in order to use them. But he needs to use them boldly, without holding back. Sometimes others feel inferior or misunderstood around him, and that’s because he’s thinking 4 steps ahead of his own hooves… and sometimes he simply forgets to slow down long enough to communicate the plans so that they are well received.

“Have no fear of perfection, you’ll never reach it.” – Salvador Dali

How does it all work? Where are we headed? What is the nature of nature? With a million questions (and answers) she gobbles up all the things and the research and the books and the ideas… the lights and the bits and the bobs and the fascinations… this Page is a sponge of the world. Taking it all in. She watches and thinks. She intuits and intellects. She thinks her way into existence, and she is always learning new ways to move and to dream and be. Sometimes, she has so much in and on her mind that there is a frenetic energy around her. The storm comes. The wind whips. The electricity rises. And she doesn’t mean to create this restless sort of energy, she really doesn’t. She’s just so absorbed in her thoughts that she misses the fact that there is another mountain beside her that needs to sleep. She imagines herself as the oracle… knowing that people could come to her and that she could gift them insight based on the thousands of years of history and experience that she is learning. She could gift them light based on the logic and the science of it all. She could gift them a lightness of spirit based on play, and on her connection to the possible. And somehow, she thinks it all into being… using her reasoning and her mind and her curious nature. And somehow, she knows that they will come.

The 10 of Voices knows that this will be painful. And she also knows that she will heal. She will heal and be stronger, and whole – she will be more loved and more aware of herself than she ever was before. She knows that any circumstances that she has created, or any back-stabbing illusions that she has missed along the way will dissipate and heal with this ending. She turns around and faces the swords as they do their work. And yes, it is as expected. Difficult. And yes, there are moments that she wants to give up and wallow. To despair. To allow herself to believe that she is the victim. And all the poor-me’s in the Universe come knocking at her door. She sits with this painful ending. She sits with any betrayal or sadness, anger or guilt… and then she breathes it away. She screams and kneads it out so that it doesn’t become a part of her muscle memory. She does not hold space for helplessness at her table, for she knows that the parts of her that heal and grow and stitch their way back together will become so luminescent that they will elevate her to the top of the mountain and give her the strength and fortitude to love even deeper. And with 1,2,3…. voices she breathes….. 4,5,6… voices she heals…. 7,8,9… voices she screams…. and with 10 voices in unison she flies.

“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” – Banksy

Nights of nightmares. For so many moons, she has been sleeping in that liminal place of unrest… that place where worry and anxiety creep into the sides of her mind and keep her from the deep rest she so desires. Her eyes close quickly, effortlessly, as the body says yes to rest… but the mind – oh her mind – it is a canyon of memories to retrieve and process, and her pillow never seems to have enough space to hold it all. Her lack of quiet stillness creeps into her waking hours and into her sleep, so she remains unrefreshed. She relaxes, but does not quiet the mind. Even her memory seems to be fading now, into the void along with her nightmares. And the Muse smiles down on her from above, and reminds her that her nightmares are only illusions of a past unprocessed or of a future that isn’t real, and that in the present… in the present she is safe… held… and loved. Loved. And the small creature softens, realizing that underneath it all, the answer was and always has been to love. Even when it seems too simple. Too trite. With compassion and calming energy, the Muse coos down to the little soul as she begins to fall asleep, and she blankets her mind with the distant hopes and dreams of the sandman. She slows her breathing with the mindful rhythms of her circadian clock. And the Muse protects her as she sleeps. It’s time to let healing sleep take over.

She found herself in a dark place… the walls seemed to cave in and the lights were blotted out from the sky. She felt around in the dark. It was cold, and she was sure she was lost. Stuck in one spot with no way to move She always had the worst luck. Always. And her heart began to beat faster as she imagined her prison. She must be underground somewhere. A cave. A horrible place. She felt her blood rise and she was getting thirsty. So thirsty for serenity. Freedom. For those summer days that lasted forever… with their carefree giggles and easy smiles. Thirst. She was thirsty! There must be water here somewhere to drink… but she simply couldn’t see where it was. “I can’t,” she said out loud, and as she said it, it felt like a strap clasped at her wrist. She tripped, trying to escape. “I can’t,” she called out again, and another rope anchored onto her arm. She began to give up, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” and with every subsequent sob, cry and scream the ties multiplied. She looked up, and begged for help from the Universe. as she was sure she couldn’t do this on her own. The Universe replied with the quietest whisper, “You’re not stuck. Look around you.” She slowed her breathing, and her blindfold fell away. She opened her eyes, and watched the sun peek over the mountain behind her, and she remembered that she had been outside all along. Free to leave. Free to change. Oh, what suffering we create, when we allow hopelessness to manifest in our hearts.

Oh, how lovely it all looks! How serene the path. Everything in perfect order. Oh, how lovely it all looks! How serene the bridge, with everything in perfect order. It leads to perfectly shiny things, so she stays focused on the green meadows that lie ahead. They promised her perfection, you see. She looks up, suddenly noticing the Muse looming ahead, with her intense gaze . . . peaceful yet insistent. And something feels off. A gut instinct. Something that she can’t quite put her finger on . . . something made of shadows, happening in the reflections. Her inner senses are tingling with the most distant of alarm bells, and she knows she must trust her instincts on this one. As you cross your own bridge of illusion, this Muse warns you to be on the lookout for deceit, theft, or the misalignment of values. Take only what you need, trusting your own integrity to guide you. The security of your moral compass will grant you passage, because only in truth can this doorway of sunshine be crossed into.

“Art is a lie that makes us realize truth.” – Pablo Picasso

The 6 of Voices is a Muse of difficult transitions, and she lends a helping hand to those who seek solace and passage to new states of being, living and loving. Sometimes, the way across the river is unclear and muddy. In these times, the Muse asks us to be open to receiving help from wonderfully unexpected places. She is everywhere. And her forms are often the most unlikely and unexpected. Trust serendipity. Look for small miracles. And keep seeking the bright waters of tomorrow’s horizon. These things will help you cross, and the profound shifting that occurs as a result of this transit is already beginning to root and stir inside your soul. You are already on your way. Open your heart to her gentle aid.

The 5 of Voices hears loveless winning sounding through the air:
1) I, alone, am going to win
2) I am the only one who really deserves this
3) It doesn’t matter who gets in my way
4) Nothing – and no one – will stop me. Get out of my way
5) I don’t care what it takes. All I see is the prize
The Muse of the 5 of Voices looks down, reflecting back how often we forget to think about the things that are the most important to us when we strive to win. Sometimes, we forget about how we should act, and we forgo our better interests – our integrity, our balance, our light – in order to come out on top. The Muse watches those who do things that they aren’t proud of, choosing tiny victories over their own evolution. She knows that it can feel as if our reason for existing is to climb a ladder that goes… now wait… where does it really go? With laser precision, she illuminates the solitude, frustration, anger or sadness that can keep us in the state of needing to win and needing to be right. She illuminates any ‘not enoughness’ that fuels our desire to feel successful, beautiful, accepted… and at the top of our game. She reveals the scarcity that keeps us wanting to be ‘better than’ – and she offers a chance to step off the hamster wheel and to look at your surroundings in a new light. ‘What costs are you paying to win? And what fallout is associated with those costs?’ And for those who have lost, or who have felt any injustice, shame or inadequacy around an unrequited desire to triumph, she asks you to remember that everything you can glean from your loss will set you up for better opportunities in the future. We succeed when we decide we can improve, and she asks you to remain mindful of the things that really matter: connection, trust, truth, honesty, integrity… being able to forgive and being compassionate… helping those who are part of your team and always striving to be the very best version of yourself. This is how we win… at life.

The Muse of deep rest and healing –The 4 of Voices – welcomes you to her starlight nebula of rebirth and renewal, and she offers you a time away so that you can escape the wheel of chaos and busy-ness that so quickly becomes the pattern. She shifts the mix of stars and rose petals, and spins you the sweetest of waters. She brews an elixir made for your wounds, both energetic and physical… and emotional and spiritual. She invites you to walk slowly across the bridge, and to fall into the deepest of rests with her. Sleep, sweet creator love. You must rest for your health. Sleep, for this is where all the energy to create your path will be found. And without this rest, you will miss a key resource that you need to complete your mission.