an impromptu post on death
i was not planning on posting this today. in fact, i was planning on finishing the piece i’ve been working on about my time in AA when i thought i was an alcoholic, but i was really just disconnected from my body and my spirit. it’s long, but it’s coming.
alas, this is a project born of spontaneous inspiration, so that’s how we roll around here.
for the past 13 days, i’ve been participating in a 22 day immersion into the major arcana of the tarot, led by astrologer, diviner, and all around super rad human, Jana, who goes by (@)feelingloudly on socials. 22 days of tarot is closed to new participants this time around, but if you’re at all interested in the tarot, i highly recommend signing up the next time Jana offers it.
i’ve been getting a lot of wonderful insights through working with each card of the major arcana intimately, one day at a time, but today death had something to say, and it wasn’t just for me.
i’ve been channeling—more on exactly what that means to me in a soon-to-come post as well—and sharing information online for long enough that i’ve become acutely aware of when a message isn’t just for me. today, as i contemplated the death card, and death itself, it became very clear that this was one of those messages.
i’m using the Modern Witch Tarot by Lisa Sterle for this journey, which i’ve owned and been building a relationship with for a little over a year now. but today when i looked at the death card, i was surprised to realize that i’ve only received this card from it once or twice. plenty of other decks have spit it out for me plenty of times, but not this one.
after taking in the imagery (we’ll get there in a minute, don’t worry), i immediately considered how many animals i’ve ushered through their final moments in this realm. i have faced death square in the eye and not run away, despite my greatest impulses. once, i even did this alone. but that’s not true. because death was there, and we sat in silence under the pale, cold january moon. i have been a bridge between the worlds. i have held that sacred space of silence, of transition between being and nonbeing (or allbeing). i have done this literally and figuratively.
when death shows up, it’s time for transformation, whether we like it or not. this goes for both the tarot card/metaphorical death, and literal death. we can plead with death, beg for it to spare us, for ourselves, for our family, our friends, our dear ones… but don’t you see? even the king lies supine at the feet of death, their crown tossed aside, a symbol of its meaninglessness. death spares no one.
i’ve found, like the child on their knees, it’s best to greet death with humility and an offering. oftentimes, the only offering that is available in the face of death is presence, and that can be enough.
of course, sitting with this card has brought to mind all of the death we’ve experienced on this planet over the past four years. none of us are exempt from having death touch our life at any point (death spares no one, remember?), but lately it feels so close; always breathing down our necks. as i write this i can feel the tendrils of death swirling around me, eager for acknowledgement.
but death is hard not to acknowledge, and it’s all too easy to ignore. and yet, everywhere you look, death is there. i look out my windows and i see the leaves that were green last year, fallen back to the earth, brown and brittle, waiting to become compost. i open my phone and the death toll in Gaza grows. but you see, the death toll grows whether i acknowledge it or not.
i think of all the people who have had to sit alone in the prsence of death, as i did last january. but there is a stark difference. when i sat in the hard, cold soil of winter, under the moonlight and the pear tree, and i looked death square in the eye as i said goodbye to the dog who ushered me into adulthood, i had the luxury of not wondering if death was coming for me next.
even as i crystallize these words that started as text on a screen intended for my instagram stories, i’m still not quite sure why i have to write this. but i’ve been writing and channeling long enough at this point to know when the feelings have to be shared, when the light must shine in a specific spot, and it’s up to me to direct it there.
so, i’ll leave you with this, repetitive though it may be: death likes an offering. and there is a lot of death around these days.
if you feel grounded and secure in your present relationship with life and death, with your protection practices and with your guides and the good spirits who walk with you, and it feels good and right to you in this moment, offer death something today. humbly.
it could be a piece of chocolate, a glass of water or wine, it could be a poem or a candle. listen, and you’ll know what to share.
i want to reiterate that i urge you to only participate in this exercise if you feel grounded and secure in your present relationship with life and death, if you have a strong connection with guides you know and trust, and you feel a full body yes to making a humble offering to death. this is an exercise of acknowledgement of a sacred and inevitable process. emphasis on sacred.
i’m here to offer suggestions as opposed to rigid dogmas, but death is big. if you’re feeling trepidation about leaving an offering to death, that means now is not the time.
the idea behind humbly leaving an offering to death is presence. to acknowledge the cycles of time and life, and to acknowledge death’s power. if death feels overpowering and overwhelming to you, that’s perfectly okay. again: death is big. death is not to be taken lightly by any stretch of the imagination.
with that said, if you don’t want to make an offering to death, but still want to acknowledge it, a good place to start would be to pray for the souls who have met death too soon, in vain, and/or unjustly. you don’t have to know their names, you can just light a candle for them and/or hold them in your heart.
you can simply breathe into the awareness that life is precious.
and that is enough.
because it has to be.
sending immense love and tremendous strength and presence your way.
thank you for reading; thank you for witnessing.
<3, marta