Today’s tarot card was the 9 of swords. I had free-floating anxiety all day, leading up to my first dose of the Moderna vaccine in the evening. I realized somewhere along the way that I was processing a year’s worth of the stress and strangeness of the pandemic, and the loss of the connecting balms of hugs and social singing. These needles point a way through it.
I felt stymied by the blank paper. Made a couple of lines with my pencil, and this is what happened. One of the chorus of critics, perhaps? Someone with big opinions but no hands to make things happen?