I recently received an email that really got my goat.
Nestled among the usual assortment of goat-getting emails—from brands and companies and politicians, all looking for money in one way or another—was an email from Substack, the very platform that brought you this newsletter.
“We noticed your revenue is trending downward,” it said, and offered a few blanket tips.
Goat gotten.
Though I make it a point not to dwell in metrics, the downward trend was not news to me. I’ve posted less in the last month due to the holidays, deadlines, and illness, and fewer emails mean fewer new subscriptions to make up for the inevitable churn.
What bothered me was where the emphasis was placed: revenue. And I get it; any for-profit company would focus on the same.
But it felt like it dismissed the most valuable (to me) parts of this newsletter — namely connection. I’ve gotten to know many of you through your writing and comments and stories, have had the pleasure of meeting some of you through virtual tarot readings or in person, and enjoy the immense privilege to share my words with you each week.
There was a time when I did fret about numbers or feared a dip was tied to my own value. But if I were (just) here for money, I would have given up long ago. I am here because of you.
Once I’d metabolized it, the email left me feeling oddly pleased, imbued with the gift of clarity. It inspired me to revisit the bigger why — why start, why continue, why bother — necessary to fuel any endeavor. I felt more empowered than I had in weeks.
Our goals change over time. As do our priorities. So, for that matter, do our selves.
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This was my mindset when I began reading Mind Magic, a book about the neuroscience behind the (long condemned to pseudoscience) practice of manifestation. I’d had the book for a while. I started it, then put it down to gather dust on my nightstand.
Like many people, I’d soured on that word — manifestation — and the often privileged, materialistic associations it has come to carry in popular culture. Though experience has taught me there is undeniably something to it — the power of our minds, particularly our subconscious beliefs, in shaping our experience of the world — it felt impossible to divorce from vision boards filled with Ferraris and influencers touting material gains.
But as 2025 rolled closer, bearing more dread than hope, the book started to whisper. And so, I read, highlighter in hand, marginalia dotting nearly every page. (A lot of exclamation points.) It’s changed how I approach my work, how I go to sleep, how I find motivation.
I particularly appreciate the emphasis on manifestation not as a means to chase status or material gains, but to gain clarity and create a life infused with meaning.
There’s more to say, which is why I’ve decided to name Mind Magic as the first selection of the Embarrassing/Empowering Book Club (EBC).
The name Embarrassing Book Club is a bit of a misnomer, as I truly believe no written contribution is embarrassing. It speaks to stories and topics that are messy and beautiful and cheesy and complex and vulnerable and true — the kind of book you might feel compelled to store face down near your bedside, say, instead of prominently displayed on the shelf.
The club will span all genres — titles old or new, bestselling or unknown. Personally, I can’t wait to dive into fiction and memoir in the future. But for this moment, I need to sink my teeth into something dynamic and active and empowering. And I imagine I’m not alone in this.
If you’d like to join, here’s how the club will work:
We’ll read a book every other month. (Bimonthly was the overwhelming choice in the book club survey. But if you’re one of the people who voted for a book every month, I’ll be making a point to share more reading recommendations this year.)
I’ll host a private chat thread to discuss as we’re reading, as well as a live Zoom gathering at the end. These events are optional — participate in one or both, as you wish — and open to all paid subscribers. (Invites and further information will be emailed to the paid list.)
Mind Magic is full of facts, actionable steps, and exercises that are ripe for discussion. I can’t wait to see what it brings up for each of us — what we’re dreaming up, calling in, taking action to create — and to encourage one another along the way.
This book has truly helped me reclaim a sense of agency, and I hope it may do the same for you. (…and either way, I’m excited to discuss!)
Card of the Week
Here is this week’s card for the collective, as well as some thoughts to carry into the days ahead. As always, this reading is not meant to be predictive, but rather as a path to reflection. Please take whatever may be helpful and leave the rest.
I bought my first tarot deck in the fifth grade, which makes it around thirty years old.
While my collection has certainly expanded since, that deck is still the one I use when reading for others, including the weekly card. It’s in surprisingly decent shape, save for some dingy edges and one card, The Empress, that’s missing a bit of the top right corner.
I do not remember what led to this. (The covert munch of a beloved dog?) But I’ve always found something poetic about it: The Empress — symbol of nurturing, creation, Nature, feminine power — with a bite taken out of it.
And does that ever land this week.
This card may have arrived looking a little worse for wear, but that doesn’t change its meaning, and it doesn’t lessen its power. It suggests that as we approach this week, with its cornucopia of asks and needs and disappointments, we remember that the same applies to us.
This card is often associated with Venus, the Roman goddess of Love, Beauty and Creative Power, or what Jungian psychology terms anima, the feminine nature present in all. As one of the most powerful figures in the deck, The Empress has much to impart (particularly if your name is Zuck) about the unmatched force of feminine energy.
This week’s message reminds us that true growth is a process by which we become even more of who we are. Where we return to a place of radical authenticity, unfettered by the urgings of the external world.
Growth isn’t about making something as big as humanly possible, or about amassing the most wealth or pride or power. Nor is it about being loudest or strongest or best.
Sometimes, growth looks the way we are taught as children — seed begets a sprout begets a stalk — but in many cases, it is not so straightforward. When we are in the midst of growth, it is not always obvious. It can feel painful, uncomfortable, like we are stuck in place or sliding backward. We may think of every reason to give up or change course. This, too, is growth.
Much like a card that is missing its corner, we are invited to show up as our full, imperfect selves. As tired and frightened and angry and heartbroken as the day demands. And as brilliant and resilient, too.
We are each a product of the past, as it brought us to this moment, but our stories are not beholden to it. The Empress reminds us that the innate wisdom of the natural world is also present within us. We, too, possess an extraordinary ability to grow, heal, adapt, and regenerate. To be a force — different than using force. To make our presence known.
The wisdom of The Empress lives in our capacity to nurture, and to nourish, as a two-way street.
It is looking to our neighbor and saying, how can I support you?
It is looking in the mirror and asking the same.
More than anything, The Empress bids us to practice care. May we remember that love is a verb. More than a feeling, it is something we do, something we sow, something we bring about through the merging of our hearts and heads and hands.
Love is motion. Love is action. Love is how we move forward — onward — together.
As always, thank you for reading. x
I cannot say it any better than you have. Thank you Caroline. Your subscription is one of the only push notifications I have on my phone and something I always say YES with joy to open. Thank you for continuing to share your wisdom and art through your writing.
Fuck Substack’s Department of Letters. And I’m so excited for the book club!