When divination becomes a way of life, there are many several magical moments when you realize just how long you’ve been dancing under the most luminescent caress of moonlight.

Technique comes, in time, but so often there’s a frenzied rush for the technical that the soul’s soft whispers are set aside. Yet in divination, unsuprisingly you sit in silence, yearning, praying for a guiding light through the night of unknowing. Its less about predicting fixed outcomes, nor is it, for me, about striving for some lazy mastery to self-congratulate the ego. And be not confused, the silence isn’t always silent. It’s a chanting, a crooning, a lulling vibrato, and a guttural weeping. You’ll feel summoned and sure you aren’t so actually alone when the wolves start howling. The technique takes you up the mountain or deeper into the depths, but divination is a practice in visceral catharsis. You keep calling and calling and then finally, gracefully, you get a response.

You commune with the cards in conversations with a friend, a client, a colleauge. The uncertain ambivalence becomes revelation.

For instance, in conversation with my charts, my cards and my colleagues I reflect and realize how the red thread of mystery has been weaving some sacred tapestry of my life all along.

For instance, when Pluto first entered Capricorn in 2008, pushing into my ninth house, I began writing, and reporting for my high school newspaper and became the editor-in-chief the following year. Now get this, our newspaper was literally called, The Oracle. (!!!) As Pluto left Capricorn and entered Aquarius from 2023-2024, leaving my ninth house of publishing and divination, I published my first book, Red Tarot: A Decolonial Guide to Divinatory Literacy.

Then just last week Venus and Mars went cazimi in Capricorn, into the heart of the Sun, a pivotal point in their respective cyclical relationships with the Sun; synodic cycles resetting. And on the Venus cazimi, I received such a generous invitation, while with the Mars cazimi I sent something sacred in the mail. I’m happy to share the Venus alignment now:

It is an honor to doula this edition alongside Hannah Levy who has pioneered and championed this brilliant yearly tarot text that coalesces so many mediums, creators, authors, diviners, artists and theorists. We connected last year with the Devil issue and I had a subtle sense, okay maybe hope, that we’d continue collaborating in the future.

And how sweet is the invitation to guest-edit the Moon issue for I am both an astrologer and tarot reader, but moreso the Moon is my destined light. My natal Moon is a crone and she rules my part of fortune in Cancer. I write by the oldest sliver of moonlight. I frequently feel buoyed by the grace of three friends in particular, all Cancer risings.

The Moon is a magnet, a siren summoning you beyond the rational, beyond civilization and certainty, beyond the human. Something shifts shape in night, and we meet in uncanny dimensions.

Hannah tells me she’s recently read In the Absence of the Ordinary by Francis Weller, where he names this moment as The Long Dark, and states

Soul gestation. How lunar.

Divination is an ethic of honest communion. It might be midnight in a world so absurd but for all the seekers scrying into the lunar looking glass, our dreams of freedom are anything but delusion. We may wax and wane with our resolve, our reason, our reunion, but a feminine grace is keeping watch over the wandering, wondering souls, refracting her rays into the tarot’s prism to illuminate, to transform the night.

If you’re haunted or bewildered, a poet burning the midnight candle, a prophet praying protection magic for your people, an astrologer pronouncing your client’s progressed lunations, or an artist uncertain of exactly what form you find yourself in today, please submit!

The full announcement, with more information about submission is below:

Forward this to all the lunatics you know. We all reserve the right to howl at the Moon.

x,

Christopher