Margot Velvet

Tag: divination

  • Thoughts on The Ether, or how tarot works (for me)

    Thoughts on The Ether, or how tarot works (for me)

    Hi friends! It has been a while since I’ve written anything here. A lot has happened. Life happened. 🙂

    I will likely post a reflection later on all that has been going on, but in the meantime, I want to talk a little bit about how my work with tarot includes The Ether, the matrix, the shamanic records, the universal consciousness – whatever you want to call our inner connectedness.

    Last week, I had the incredible opportunity to attend Spirit Talk Live with Chris Fleming and DeEtte Ranae. Chris shared his ideas about the journey of the soul and it truly resonated with me, offering a sense of validation I didn’t know I needed in regards to my ideas on Occult Cosmology. It was a profound moment of what we might call Verified Personal Gnosis. He discussed the Ether as a powerful grid that unites us all, linking our essence to the source, transcending time and potential timelines. While the intricacies of quantum physics are fascinating, what really touched me is the notion that we are perpetually connected to every version of ourselves: our higher self, alternate selves, past selves, and even future selves. Since time is not linear, and experiences don’t unfold in a strict sequence, we have the ability to tap into the wisdom and knowledge of our “other” selves through the Ether.

    If this idea sounds familiar to you, it should! The principle has many names: the Ether (or aether), the astral realm, the Akashic Records, or even the collective unconscious.

    In my tarot practice, I called it Plucking the String and it’s something I’ve been working on since 2019. It’s my method of requesting information from the universe – from my higher self or, even better, one of my Other Selves where the event in question has already come to pass. Some version of me has the answer!

    If you’d like to hear about how I “pluck the string,” please let me know and I will do a thorough write-up on it.

    I’d like to hear your thoughts, though. Do you have any experiences with accessing information from the spiritual plane? Let a girl know in the comments or DM me on my socials to chat.

    Thanks for reading!

    xoxo

    MV

    The event venue had a koi pond!
    Fish!
    Me (left) & Janet at the event

  • On Mirrors

    On Mirrors

    When I was young, maybe 6 or 7 or 8, I watched an episode of Fact or Fiction that changed my life forever.

    If you are not familiar with the premise of the show, they tell 4 stories. Some are made up and some are real. They are frequently paranormal and deal with ghosts or UFOs or some other taboo subject. At the end of the show, they tell you which ones were based on fact, and which were complete fiction.

    In this particular episode, a woman moves into a new home. She sets up a large mirror in her hallway outside her bedroom. After a few weeks, she notices the apparition of a woman appearing in the mirror every time she walks past. Sometimes her own reflection is distorted into the image of the ghost woman. Eventually, she ends up covering the mirror because it causes her so much distress.
    One evening, a man breaks into her home through the bedroom window. There is a struggle, and she runs out into the hallway. While she is trapped in his arms, the sheet gets pulled away from the mirror and the assailant sees the ghost woman. Completely spooked, he runs off but is caught by police. He reported that the woman he saw in the mirror was one of his previous victims.
    The story turned out to be true, and the dead woman was there to protect her, not scare her.

    Immediately after watching that, I took down the mirror in my bedroom.
    When staying in hotels, I will cover the mirror.
    When I spend the night at my parents’, I cover the mirror.
    At home, I make sure the mirror on my vanity is turned away from the bed before I go to sleep.
    Two weeks ago I rearranged the living room and had to move the TV just so I would not catch my reflection in it. I have no other mirrors in my house other than the necessary one in the bathroom. (As a 32 year old adult, I still freak out a little when I go into the bathroom and the light is off; I constantly imagine Bloody Mary waiting for me when I flip on the switch.) Mirrors in general just plain give me the creeps.

    I understand that, in the case of the Fact or Fiction show, the spirit was there to protect someone. But couple the fear of seeing the unexpected with the horror tropes from Hollywood — it’s just a burnt in phobia for me now.

    Anyway… getting back to the point of all of this: I dreamt of my grandma again today. In my dream, I saw her reflection in a TV screen. I won’t go into detail about the dream just now, but I find it interesting that that was how I saw her. As a reflection.

    I wonder if the MODE of how I saw her means anything. Mirrors. Reflections. Images. Imprints. Suggestions. Scrying. Gazing.

    I wonder if I would be good at scrying. Perhaps I avoid it because I am not ready to utilize it. I have to get over my irrational fear first.

    I feel my spirit strengthening. I feel like I am coming in closer to being in tune with the universe. Am I learning the language? Interpreting the signs correctly? When I am ready, I will find the perfect obsidian bowl to use for water scrying. I’m not sure I will ever be ready for a straight up mirror.

    —edited to add, briefly: I used to have a ghost companion (a story for another day) and the only time I could see him was through my rear view mirror. And again, I saw the ghost of Mr. Wysock at my grandparent’s house also from my car in the side-view mirror. At my cabin, I took a photo of my family and captured a silhouette of a deceased family member in the sliding glass door – a reflection. This confirms it. And it seems so obvious. If I want to communicate with the dead, I personally will need to use something reflective. A mirror. Water. Crystal ball. A TV. (My dreams are reserved for those I love.)—

  • Tarot Practice – Celtic Cross

    Tarot Practice – Celtic Cross

    My best friend, whom I have mentioned earlier, did a fantastic reading for me tonight. I recreated the spread at home with my own cards so I could touch and see them and glean some additional insight. Her distance reading pictures are below:

    1. The Present – Death
    2. The Challenge – 2 of Swords
    3. The Past – Queen of Wands
    4. The Future – The Empress
    5. Above – Knight of Cups
    6. Below – The Lovers
    7. Action/Advice – 4 of Swords
    8. External Forces – 3 of Wands
    9. Internal Forces/Hopes and Fears – 2 of Wands
    10. Outcome – 10 of Cups

  • Pilgrimage

    Pilgrimage

    A spiritual quest to the Illinois River Valley. TLDR; My past-life theory is substantiated and I learn about discerning sacred places.

    ** Edit // Relevant Posts ***
    This is the 4th post in a series about Past Lives, Senachwine, Lake Thunderbird and Magical Places.
    1. On Magical Places (pt. one)
    2. On Magical Places (pt. two)
    3. On Past Lives

    I drove south on I-180 in search of Broccoli Trees. These trees were the last landmark before I reached my destination. The sight did not disappoint. The road opens at the intersection of Rt. 26, just north of Rt. 29 near Tiskilwa, IL, in a breathtaking display of lush green foliage before and on either side, nourished by the rivers, creeks and lakes that make up the Illinois River Valley.

    It was literally a breath of fresh air.

    I turned to follow the signs pointing the way to Lake Thunderbird at Putnam. I came for a few reasons: to see if my childhood home was indeed a magical place (or if the sadness of my youth was to blame for my lingering pangs to return), and to hopefully find a sense of clarity in regards to my blossoming spirituality, especially regarding past-lives and my ties to the area.

    I travelled the familiar blacktop roads, winding through deep cut ravines and wilderness, and tried to absorb the vibe. To my surprise, all of Lake Thunderbird felt empty. A bit sad. Lifeless.

    Vacationers, tourists and half-timers were gathered at the beach and boat launches in throngs. I was not surprised; it is a private members-only lake and I’m sure the remoteness of it made those people feel like Covid-19 was just a bad dream. At the Lake, they are safe. Untouchable. I drove by slowly and inspected the cabins that were built up, fixed, or brand new all along the main drag. The roads and the buildings looked tired. As I took the final dip before Valley Rd, I took a breath to prepare for what was ahead: my childhood cabin. I knew it wouldn’t look the same. I was wondering if it would still feel the same.

    The house, once quaint, with pea-green paneling and a strapping redwood covered porch and back deck, now resembles an actual, literal cardboard box. It is brown and uninspired. Nothing about it seemed familiar. Two small windows stood at the front of the house where an addition closed in the deck. There was no door; it must have been relocated or perhaps they were only using the backdoor. A carport was thrown up in haste and 2 equally boring sheds stood on the side of the house. There was a boat under a tarp and several pick up trucks. It resembled a junk yard.

    I made a U-turn at the end of the street and circled back to examine it further. I wanted to see how the landscape itself changed: were the natural tiger lilies still there? The shagbark? The reliable black eyed Susans?

    Sort of. Just the red cast iron pitcher pump and some of the larger trees (including the shagbark hickory) remained. I was a bit disheartened; it felt like someone (excuse me, but I must say it) took a giant shit on a glittering gem of a cabin. The land itself seemed depressed. I couldn’t feel the Heartbeat.

    The same depressive atmosphere that I felt when entering the area carried on as I circled around the lake. Even the Chair Tree, a beautiful white oak used as a Native American trail marker, had died. It was over 200 years old when it finally gave up. It was a sun-bleached amputee, it’s once outstretched arms were sawed off completely and crude animal totems carved into it “to honor Senachwine and his people.” … Okay, then.

    At this point I circled back to Princeton to stretch my legs, grab some coffee, and check my maps for a place near Senachwine Creek to meditate. I decided to go to Miller-Anderson Woods, even though it was not clear if there was place to park or trails to roam.

    To my delight, there was a tiny gravel parking lot with room for 3 cars at most. I pulled in and positioned my car so I could drive straight back out onto the road easily and also so I was not in clear view of passersby. There were no trails that I could see, nor any maps or signs other than one that read “NO MUSHROOM HUNTING.”

    I turned off the car and rolled down all my windows. I brought a journal with me and an assortment of items of power: obsidian, rainbow moonstone, bloodstone, selenite and a tiny vial of holy dirt from Santuario de Chimayo, NM. I placed the obsidian chunk before me on the dashboard and closed my eyes to still myself and just listen.

    Birds. Bugs. The rustling of ground critters. The sounds were quiet but they were everywhere.

    I felt weepy but not because I was sad. I felt … touched. Pleasant. At peace. I asked the Universe, god, the Great Spirit for wisdom. Why this place? Why do I feel called to return here, year after year? What am I supposed to be doing?

    A thought occurred – “You can’t do this here.” Here, in the car. I needed to venture deeper into the woods. I needed to abandon the road and get away from the areas disturbed by humans. Without a trail or a path, I was worried about getting lost or that the woods may be impassable. So I asked again and listened.

    Suddenly I heard a great gust of wind approaching. I could actually see the breeze coming as it moved the tree tops in the distance. I heard it and I saw it before I could feel it. Incredible. This is it, I thought. My message is coming on the wind. I closed my eyes and turned my face into the breeze, as big, grateful tears spilled down my cheeks. Before I could even finish tasting the moment, I became aware of an approaching car. It was slowing down. Someone was coming. A Jeep carrying two white men pulled haphazardly into the lot beside me. They smiled and nodded over at me and proceeded to exit their vehicle… to urinate. Both of these men walked into the preserve and peed on the ground in full view.

    I immediately turned my engine and rolled the windows up and locked the door. I drove straight out into the street and left.

    … What just happened? I was about to receive some divine message and it was ruined by these random dudes! What the hell! I was upset. Angry. Here I was, in a beautiful sacred space trying to commune with nature and these guys come in and defile it shamelessly.

    Wait a second… was that the message?

    I thought of my last post on past lives:

    In a past life (and I think probably my only past life) I was a guardian spirit. An old Sentinel of the land. Custodian of the sacred woodlands, I kept the land wild and healthy and in balance. I blanketed the forest in love and light. I respected the indigenous peoples who respected me. I was likely fascinated by them. I brought the rain that replenished the earth. I fed the worms, the birds, the bats, the flowering trees and the deer who marked their antlers against them. I was the Heartbeat, the invisible Divine force charged with ensuring balance of the lush ecosystem. I watched. (Echoing the prophecy of my husband, “You saw it.“) I felt proud of it’s perfect purity.

    …

    I wonder if I gave up my duties because, as time went on, protecting the land and the innocent creatures within it became futile. Man encroaches, destroys, manipulates, abuses the land and its resources. We litter, pollute, without a second thought. I wonder if, after so many years of watching, I said — Fuck it. I wonder if I failed. Perhaps this is why I grieve needlessly for little chipmunks or get weepy and incensed by the sight of roadkill. Perhaps this is why I pause to admire and praise the old, fat trees whose roots disrupt the foundation of my own home. Perhaps this is why I am driven to research Senachwine and the forested Illinois Valley. Perhaps I abandoned my post and am now living a life of a destructive human. Maybe I wanted to understand the other side.

    It seems impossible to argue anything other than that this whole situation reinforces my pondering of last week. What could be more obvious than 2 bros actually peeing on protected land?

    Perhaps I failed and gave up, I said.
    Perhaps I abandoned by post and am being punished to live as a human. No, no… too dramatic.
    Perhaps I wanted to understand the other side – perhaps, indeed.
    Perhaps this is all in my head and it was all random coincidence.
    Perhaps I am being blocked from truly connecting and understanding by some other force.

    When I got home today, I pulled out some PDFs and historical maps. Not even a mile away from where I meditated today at Miller-Anderson Woods lies the L. Thompson Mounds – a Native burial site of at least 6 mounds dating back to the Woodland era.

    Sacred land. Untouched, preserved land. Proof that the Heartbeat exists – and maybe this is my tiny superpower.

    Lessons learned:

    • The soul of Lake Thunderbird has been diminished.
    • My attachment belongs to the area in general, not solely our former property at the lake.
    • I have a gift for places. I can tell what land is special and should be respected. I can feel what the land is feeling. I now have a boundary map for that area of where the Heartbeat lives on in the land.
    • White men are still the worst.
    • I should probably bring someone with me next time I want to explore the woods.

    Until next time,

    MV

  • New Moon in Cancer

    New Moon in Cancer

    New Moon Solar Eclipse ::: 6/21/2020

    “I am grateful for this new cycle.
    As I heal and cleanse myself of the past,
    I grow by the new light that shines
    upon me. I am one with the Moon.
    I trust my path. All my dreams now
    come true.”

    ~ Carrie Marie Bush

    I had every intention of participating in the Live Global Meditation with MoonOmens, but I missed it.

    I was deeply engaged in ArtBrain, working tirelessly. I was inspired by another artist, unknown and uncredited, who lent their image to some (likely) wholesaler. It was a foam-backed pendulum board showcasing a gorgeous four-eyed woman with her hands held in prayer, eyes closed, titled Astral Woman. Above her head were mandalas and sacred geometry, crescent moons and glittering stars. At around 11pm on the 20th, I went to work digitally painting my own version. I labored until 5am, then resumed around 10am. After finishing up the painting, I submitted it to OfficeDepot for print and a very polite man (in mask and gloves! thumbs up!) brought out the finished copies to me curbside.

    I worked until midnight creating the final pieces and did not even hear the ping of my phone in the distance through my fervor.

    She is not my own creation, but there’s a touch of me in it. She is so lovely and beautiful.

    The art I make brings joy and wonder. I’ve been told it’s immature and undeveloped. It’s true that I often create works inspired by others. I know their art is valid, so if I create my own version of something, or a spin off of something else, it is also likely to be successful. I make it different enough that it becomes it’s own thing with it’s own spirit, but it’s creation was driven by imitation-labelled-inspiration. Perhaps the end result is not true to the Divine inside me… but it is fun and exciting. Kind of like reading a gossip magazine (when you know there are “real” things to read) or indulging in a sweet treat (when you know something more nutritious is on hand).

    I need to do the REAL work – the heavy lifting. What does MY art look like?

    I reflect on my quarantine projects:
    1. Yoshi Tarot (obviously 2 borrowed ideas morphed into something playful and fun)
    2. My Lapis Lazuli wall hanging: slightly truer because I had all the materials on hand, but it was still loosely based on the beautiful crafted wreaths and crystal wall art on Instagram and Etsy
    3. Astral Woman pendulum board: based on a witchy reseller’s pendulum board, with some major improvements and embellishments.

    When I sit down to make something, I think:
    1. I saw this thing I wanted but I can’t afford it/justify it, etc.
    2. I think this would be a cool thing to have, does it exist? Can I buy it? Oh no, no one’s made it yet?

    And then I just sit down and make the thing. It’s always about my own wants. It does not speak to any truth besides “gimme gimme gimme!”

    I know I am capable of creating many more beautiful, wonderful works of art. My next project is to come up with something original that speaks to my inner truth, that conveys a deeper meaning or is thoughtfully planned – not just something pretty to look at with wow-factor.

    The New Moon in Cancer was sending me all the energy and tools I needed to really learn this hard truth about myself. (To be fair, Scorpio Husband has been telling me this for a long time, trying to encourage me to be more thoughtful and I have responded poorly. I am embracing it now!)

    Universe, thank you for your wisdom.
    Moon, thank you for showing me that what I mustn’t fear my “dark side”; that examining it with an open mind is a necessary step in my personal growth. I learn from it, love myself through it, and continue evolving.

    Update: I just sold the pink/yellow/gold version to a friend for $40. 🙂