🌙 A Card for the Path 🌙 Today, I pulled The Seven of Cups. Traditionally, this card represents choices, illusions, and the difficulty of discernment when many options are before us. It is the card of the dreamer, surrounded by visions of what could be—some tempting, some dangerous, and some truly aligned with the soul’s purpose. But here’s the deeper current I feel within it: The Seven of Cups reminds us that not every cup offered is meant for us, and that what lies before us is not the whole picture. This card asks you to slow down and really look deeper, because the most obvious options aren’t always the best ones. Some glitter, some deceive, and some hold hidden consequences. The Seven of Cups teaches us to look beyond the surface, to weigh not only the immediate results but the long-term effects of our choices. It’s a call to discernment and patience: take your time, look carefully, and choose the path that will nourish your spirit rather than distract or drain it. Reflection Where are you being asked to pause before making a choice? Today, give yourself the gift of slowing down. Look past the surface sparkle, consider the long-term consequences, and trust yourself to choose the cup that truly sustains you. If you feel called, share your own card pull for the day—or simply share the inspiration that you received from this post.

I posted a full article in The Neurodivergent Path classroom about masking exhaustion and why decompression is essential. Masking is when we tuck away our natural selves to appear “acceptable”—forcing eye contact, copying social cues, holding back stims, scripting conversations. It’s survival, but it drains energy at a brutal pace. By the time we get home, there’s nothing left to give. That’s masking exhaustion. In the article, I also talk about spoon theory, and how masking can burn through half your spoons before lunch. That’s why decompressing isn’t optional—it’s what keeps us from sliding into shutdown, meltdown, or burnout. Rocking, zoning out, wrapping up in blankets, silence—all of these are forms of recovery, not laziness. I’d love to hear from you: - How do you personally decompress after masking? - What helps you refill spoons when they’re gone? - If you live with or love someone who masks, how do you support their recovery time? - How can we educate the people around us to see decompression as survival, not avoidance? Let’s share our practices, frustrations, and ideas for making the world a little safer for unmasking.

There’s this unspoken pressure in spiritual spaces that if you don’t mark every full moon, every new moon, every solstice or equinox with candles and ritual, you’re somehow “less” of a witch. I’ve lived long enough on this path to call bullshit on that. The truth is—there is no wrong way. The moons, the holidays, the turning of the wheel—these are invitations, not obligations. They’re doorways we can step through if we want, a way of remembering that our bones and blood are made of the same earth that shifts with the seasons. But if you forget? If the night passes and you’re busy with kids, or work, or you just plain didn’t notice? You haven’t failed anything. You’re still here, still connected, still part of the turning. I’ve had years where my Sabbats were full feasts and fire circles, and years where the best I could manage was noticing the leaves change while walking to the mailbox. Both were real. Both were enough. Awareness alone is an act of reverence. Sometimes just feeling the chill in the air or watching the moon rise between the trees is all the ritual we need. This path isn’t about performing correctly. It isn’t a checklist of festivals to “get right.” It’s about relationship. And relationships are messy, lived-in, and shaped by the rhythm of our lives. Some of us thrive on marking every cycle with ceremony. Some of us connect best in silence and passing glances. Both are valid. So if you light candles and dance under the full moon—beautiful. If you only notice the moon when it peeks through your window as you’re falling asleep—that’s just as sacred. These celebrations are one way to weave meaning, but never the only way. Your path is yours. And however you walk it, you belong.

Is any one else feeling super drained? Im also on day 3 of a migraine. Im wondering if itsx this eclipse new moon affecting me?

The High Priestess is one of the most sacred cards of the deck. She embodies balance, self-awareness, mystery, and the power that comes from walking with one foot in each world. She calls us to face what cannot be avoided, to lean into the storm, and to emerge stronger. Let’s reflect together: - How do you connect with the High Priestess when she appears in your readings? - Has she shown up for you as a whisper of intuition, or as the stern reminder that avoidance is no longer an option? - What nuances does your favorite deck bring to her imagery — the pillars, the veil, or the moon at her feet? This discussion is part of the Tarot Compendium course. The Compendium is free, but it unlocks at Level 3 through activity in the community. Keep posting, commenting, and engaging — you’ll level up naturally and gain access as you grow.