How to Change a Life

start small.

Today marks the beginning of Daylight Saving Time in the U.S., an event that often leaves us feeling dazed and confused over that missing hour. (Given the considerable hours we lose to our devices, you’d think just one wouldn’t reduce us to zombies. And yet.)

As one who appreciates darkness as a concept but not so much as an experience — something surely reflected in my mood from November through March — I’ve looked forward to this day for weeks, to the point where I had a countdown on my phone. But then it arrived.

As I move through this season of loss, there are certain dates I am aware of. My birthday (the first without my mother). Easter (her favorite holiday, owing to a fondness that was more about bunnies and chocolate than church). Mother’s Day. As an American, I wasn’t steeling myself for that last one until May. I neglected to remember that today is Mother’s Day in the UK, and my phone served me an onslaught of mom-centric content (montent? momtent?) before I could realize what was happening.

I had another essay planned for this issue, but it didn’t feel right. Something in my gut said, “not today” and it felt disingenuous not to listen.

When I go back to the why behind this newsletter, it was never about producing killer content (although I try!). It was about showing up as a person, week after week, and sharing my truth, with the hope it would help others feel seen, more connected, less alone. Because the reality is, we are all moving through something. We are all navigating some fear or loss or newness or anticipation or uncertainty. By nature of being human, we are greeting the unknown every day.

Today — what a day! — is also the Academy Awards, a night full of glamour and achievement, anchored by literal golden trophies.

Our society loves a big moment. People talk a lot about “going viral” or “breaking through” or “making it.” We place a lot of weight, and pay a lot of mind, to milestones and benchmarks and titles. Yet the moments that have moved me the most in my life were rarely of the big, sweeping variety. They were often so small as to barely merit recognition.

One happened yesterday.

Though I am nearly forty years old, my cell phone service has been on a family plan with my mother for the past twenty-plus years. Among the list of tasks that loss necessitates, I needed to disconnect her number and transfer the service to a new account of my own. I dreaded it.

I worried I might break down on the line. I worried I’d be left on hold and subject to the sound of acoustic guitar on an endless, maddening loop. I worried, irrationally, that turning off her phone meant cutting off our last remaining line of communication. I worried.  

And so, it sat on my to-do list, its menacing gaze rivaled only by that of my taxes. A new billing cycle loomed. When I finally made the call, I was greeted not by guitar, nor by robots, but by a person named Cathy.

“I’ve got this,” she said, when I explained the situation. “This is what we’ll do.”

Over the next thirty minutes, she remained patient and kind. Improbably, I felt held through the phone. She took a dreaded thing and made it almost pleasant — and in so doing, restored a little faith in humanity.

Cathy didn’t solve all my problems or offer sage advice. Hell, she didn’t even extend me a discount. She simply met me where I was, as a human being.

Maybe I’m jaded and easily melted. Perhaps my bar is quite low. But maybe it doesn’t take all that much to make a difference. Maybe it’s simpler than we know.

Reenactment of talking to Cathy.

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The piece originally scheduled for today — 7 Things I Learned Reading Tarot for Strangers (that have nothing to do with tarot and everything to do with life) — will go to paid subscribers later this week. I’d love if you joined us.

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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 most modern readers will tell you, the tarot is not about fortunetelling, nor is it about neat, definitive answers. The cards are simply one path to reflection, a way of better knowing ourselves and others through universal themes. If this reading resonates with you, great! And if not, no worries. Take whatever may be helpful and leave the rest.

The UV Tarot by Modest Mouse with art by Violet Aveline

Albert Einstein once said, “Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions.” If the Knight of Cups had a motto, it may very well be this.

Today’s card bears a message about transmuting feeling into action — mining the expanse of our imagination to chart our next move. It invites us to check in with ourselves and survey our inner landscape. It asks us to take stock of our desires and examine what might be holding us back. It bids us to heed the call of our intuition, and feed the needs of our creature-selves.

This week’s message is less about following some prescribed plan (even if we designed it!) and more about feeling our way forward. The knight challenges us to channel our emotions — the whole varied, jumbled assortment of them — into a vessel or project or direction, like water into a cup.

This could take the form of dreaming and imagining, like Einstein suggests.

It can be physical in nature, like dancing through grief.

It could take the form of a friend’s therapy sessions, which find her exorcising her emotions by hitting a pillow or screaming in her parked car.

It can look like an Artist Date, a practice from The Artist’s Way, where you plan a solo outing that is focused on pure delight.

It could mean funneling your feelings into a tangible list — of things to do, sure, but also things to look forward to, things you’re curious about, things you might like to try.

The iconic Smith-Waite tarot, with art by Pamela Colman Smith

Knights are the doers of the tarot, bursting onto the scene with a spirited “let’s go!” There’s a restlessness about them — a wandering, searching quality — that can be both inspiring and exhausting, depending on one’s vantage point.

As cups are the suit of emotion, the Knight of Cups is particularly in touch with themselves. They dwell in the space between feeling and action, motivation and momentum. They encourage us to heed the call (or in some cases, a calling) that only we can hear.

Of course, feelings can be fleeting, and this card isn’t suggesting we follow every emotional whim. Rather, it asks us to notice the intuitive pings that present themselves over the course of the day, like clouds floating by.

How does this feel?
Where am I directing my energy?
Is this aligned with my true nature?

This card encourages us to ditch the societal GPS in favor of another, truer voice: What does your inner guidance tell you?

While it may not always provide a detailed roadmap or step-by-step instructions, it is a reliable compass. Like the beam of a flashlight, or the beacon of a lighthouse, it will illuminate the path before us.

Einstein also said, “I never made one of my discoveries through the process of rational thinking.” And while rationality certainly has its place, this week the Knight of Cups bids us to listen to the full range of our being.

What brings a glimmer of light — into your days and into your heart? Let it guide you.