april 2025: four of pentacles // on organizing the growth

hello, friends, and welcome to april. the world truly is dark and full of horrors these days, but i am so glad to be slowly getting back to work post-surgery. i know i feel more grounded and steady when i'm making things, but wherever this email finds you, i sincerely hope you're safe, healthy, and doing what you can to fight fascism, stay informed, celebrate our wins, and protect your communities.

ICYMI:
♦️ a delightful heist-themed workbook & mini readings for paid subscribers
🎧 brand new episodes of CALL YOUR COVEN & CARD TALK
📚 transform your tarot practice with the 3am.tarot conservatory, now featuring queens of spirit
🧭 my second book TAROT SPREADS is available for preorder
🃏 snag my first book FINDING THE FOOL via bookshop.org

now, let's get into this month's juicy essay on the four of pentacles.

for the past four weeks, i’ve been deep in the daily rhythms of recovery from my hysterectomy. surgery went very well (“textbook,” my surgeon called it), and after years of debilitating pain and bleeding, the aches of healing have been more manageable than i dared to hope. but while my mind has stayed sharp these past weeks, my stamina is still low — and i’ve had to practice a lot of discipline in order to not slip back into my old habits of working ceaselessly, juggling ten projects at once, taking advantage of every low pain day to do as many things as possible.

this current routine, and my current capacity, feel strange. i've always been able to just power through the pain, to meet my deadlines and get things done regardless of the physical or mental cost — a routine that, while not always pleasant, felt predictable in its intensity.

even challenging routines have their comforts. while i can’t say that i’ll miss being stuck on the couch for half of every month, or the constant cost of new supplies, or shuffling around with my beloved weighted heating pad, i know that life on the other side of recovery will allow space for new systems, new schedules, new possibilities. 

but that’s future meg’s journey. present meg is still living within the relatively strict parameters set by doctors and specialists: of moving gently and slowly; of listening to my body and trusting it to know its own limits.

it’s uncomfortable. it’s expensive. but it’s also protecting me from my own desire to be constantly moving and creating and exploring — my own natural state of idea generation and playful outpourings. it's allowing me to slowly grow into someone a little different, someone with more stamina and capacity, someone who will eventually be able to do more with less.

and it is a very loud example of the four of pentacles, our card for this month.

in my tarot work, one of the major arcana archetypes that folks struggle with the most is the emperor. the fourth figure of the fool’s journey and the archetype most closely associated with our card for this month, the emperor is usually depicted as a ruler, a sovereign, someone who wields power over individuals and institutions.

at their worst, the emperor is a tyrant. 

for marginalized folks, for anyone who has been harmed by broader systems, this emperor figure is a challenge to work with. and in today’s world, where billionaires destroy safety nets just because they can and elected representatives stay complicit in an effort to protect their own privilege, the last thing many of us want to see in our tarot readings is a wealthy, patriarchal figure ruling with an iron fist.

four is a challenging number, in the emperor and throughout the tarot. pillars and foundations, structures and rules, limits and boundaries: four is a number of control and restriction, of tradition and order, of maintaining the status quo. 

but four is also protection. discipline. shielding. four is trusting in what has already been made. four is fortification, intentional building, hard work and dedication. four is knowing that what we have is precious, and doing whatever it takes to ensure that it continues to thrive.

four is reliability, trust, knowing in our bones how to do something without thinking. four is the greenhouse protecting the growing seedlings, the lines in the coloring book that transform blobs of color into recognizable shapes, the well-worn recipe that leads to a familiar, delicious meal. four is a parent lovingly ensuring that their young child doesn't trip over loose shoelaces, a gardener tenderly pruning a rosebush to help it thrive, a writer thoughtfully removing redundant sentences so that their point is clearer.

because of the more challenging aspects of the number four, the four of pentacles often becomes flattened into one very specific interpretation around scarcity and finances. limits and constriction around money, a tightening of the purse strings: budgeting, miserliness, an unwillingness to spend. often motivated by fear, a lot of readers associate the four of pentacles with worry about not having enough, or paranoia about letting others know what we possess.

yet the number four isn't only about clinging tightly to what we have or obsessing over keeping others away from our bounty. and the element of earth, as we've been discussing all year long, isn't only about stubbornly insisting that our way is the only way. four isn't limited to power and patriarchy, and earth isn't limited to cash and wealth.

instead, the four of pentacles teaches us the value of loving boundaries, the importance of respecting ourselves and our capacity, and the beauty of putting our head down and doing what we know how to do.

lately i’ve been dreaming about keeping bees someday. about building stable homes for honeybees, surrounding their hives with wild flowers and trees and clover, collecting honey for cooking and trade and medicine making, saving wax for candles.

as a child, i was not a particular fan of bees. some scary stings when i was young left me afraid of anything that buzzes, resulting in a fear that still occasionally surprises me when a bee comes to say hello. but one of my first food photography jobs was capturing images of a restaurant’s rooftop beehives and gardens, where the bees thrived and the restaurant had ample access to incredible honey. i loved getting to see how the bees worked together, the order in their little society, and the magic of the wax and honey that they produced. and recently, my mind has fixated on my own vision of hives and flowers, tending colonies, exchanging honey for other necessities, and expanding my knowledge of plant medicine and herbalism into something that could benefit an entire community.

i don’t know when or how this little dream will come true, or if it ever will. it would require land, money, time, and fully shaking off any lingering fears. but i keep thinking about how beautiful it is that each honeybee knows their role in the colony, whether drone or worker or queen. every bee is important, trusting in the bone-deep knowledge of what they were born to do.

keeping bees, protecting and safeguarding them so that they can focus on their jobs, whispering secrets that i know the bees would keep for me, feels like a very orderly kind of magic.

but i also want to watch them: to see how they work together and communicate, to see them dance, to hear them buzz and sing, to witness their learnings and growth and community efforts. i want to learn from them, to be inspired by them, to gain courage from them. i want to be reminded of what it looks like when we work towards a common goal, when we protect ourselves and each other, when we share our resources without leaving ourselves high and dry. honeybees were not made to survive without their colony, and neither were humans.

i want the daily reminder that i have an important job: a path, a role, a part to play. that my work is part of a larger ecosystem, and that it's worth protecting, investing in, having long-term visions for. and that sometimes, that requires me to slow down, stay focused, and stick to one thing at a time.

these are the questions that the number four, and the element of earth, can offer: what does it mean to exercise control with calm understanding? how do boundaries bring us into closer relationship with one another? what is the benefit of chasing after what we want with discipline and purpose, with controlled intentionality? how does it help us when everyone knows their unique talents, and focuses on using those talents to the best of their ability?

there’s a reason that effective activists and direct action workers and changemakers are so often called organizers: because even in spaces of visioning and worldbuilding and dreaming of potential futures, order creates discipline, respect, care, dignity, and purpose. order is necessary to accomplish big goals, to ensure details are not forgotten, to turn the wheel, to hear every voice. order is not the enemy of creativity or progress — in fact, it's often the facilitator of them.

keeping the larger task in mind, keeping a group focused on the end goal, requires tremendous effort: because as a project or movement grows and stabilizes, it needs ongoing protection, strength, and integrity.

in a recent critical role mini-series, professional world builder and inspirational anti-capitalist brennan lee mulligan explained, “a ruler goes on top, and a leader goes underneath, gets under something: a town, a family, a cause. a person who leads finds a way to hold the weight that others cannot hold, to be sturdy and strong.” 

it’s easy to view four and its archetype of the emperor only as a controlling ruler, a cruel tyrant, an immovable force that cannot be argued with. but i encourage you to instead allow the fours of the tarot to be leaders: protectors, guardians, people who understand what they are working towards and are willing to set the boundaries required to protect that work. queen bees, who respect the structures that have been established, and honor the work that every member of the colony has to offer.

i think that part of the reason that the four of pentacles can feel uncomfortable is because boundaries, especially ones that protect our bodies or our energies or our resources, can feel difficult to set and even more difficult to maintain. capitalism has trained us to always be grinding, to monetize everything we do, to see ourselves only as individuals, to constantly act from a scarcity mindset. when a boss asks if we can stay late, when a parent pressures us to visit when we don't really want to, when a client reaches out during one of our precious days off, most of us were not taught how to say no or protect our space, time, energy. it's to power's benefit for us to not know how to refuse — because refusing is too often framed as a risk, a threat of all that we might lose if we don't comply.

but healthy boundaries and limits are a way of dignifying ourselves, our bodies, our dreams, our tenderness. they allow us to be in respectful relationship with ourselves and with other people. as astrologer and poet diana rose harper so beautifully shares, "expressing boundaries is an expression of hope that the other will trust and honor them." boundaries are love in action. when we let others see our lines and limits, when we are willing to be vulnerable and allow others to see the skeleton of our self-worth, when we trust that our no will be received not as rejection but as intentionality, it deepens those relationships exponentially.

after all, if you'd been working hard to grow a small seed into a tender baby plant, wouldn't you prevent someone else from accidentally crushing it underfoot? wouldn't you try to keep pests or wild animals from devouring it? wouldn't you give it the best soil and light and water possible, to give that plant its best chance to flower and fruit?

knowing your job, staying in your lane, finding comfort in your own routines of work and play and connection and solitude, and understanding when it's important to say no are all ways of maintaining your own care-oriented boundaries. and when you give yourself permission to do what you know, to go all-in on your long-term dreams, to stand up for what you care about, to be a leader and protector when necessary, it’s far easier to focus on actually making those dreams come true.

perhaps you're reading this shaking your head at my flagrant use of words like "stability" and "focus" and "dreams." after all, most everyone i know is drowning in fear and uncertainty and panic, wondering what the future holds, trying to make it until the next paycheck. people are losing their jobs, small businesses are shuttering, spiritual practitioners like myself are wondering if we’ll be able to stay afloat as budgets tighten and people understandably can’t buy courses or readings like they used to. when resources are scant, when food and housing and clean water and proper healthcare become increasingly out of reach, spirituality and creativity and art and community begin to be treated like luxuries, rather than ways of staying in touch with our humanity. 

yet the four of pentacles urges us to breathe, to root down, to build, and to find that much-needed stability within each other rather than doing everything on our own. this card reminds us that we all have gifts and skills that we are so good at, things that not everyone can do — and that sometimes the best thing we can do is the thing we know how to do.

yes, learning new skills is valuable. yes, being willing to take risks is important. yes, knowing how to imagine beyond what already exists is essential. and also: don’t undervalue what you know already, what you can do with your eyes closed, what you have to offer.

it’s okay to protect your energy so that you can do your best on a particular project. it’s okay to honor your limits and do one thing well instead of twenty things badly. it’s okay to listen to your body’s capacity and rest, even if your brain is itching to get back to work. it's okay to build slowly and intentionally, over time, instead of rushing to get to the next big thing. it's okay to say no with kindness, especially when the alternative is saying yes with resentment.

the old world is shaking itself apart, and the world that is emerging will take time and skill and intentionality to build. we can't all do every job, but every job has someone who can do it well. in a recent newsletter, journalist and author lyz lenz wrote, "we have to create the world we want to live in. no one is entitled to community and friendship; we have to build it and cultivate it. and that is the real work of our era." we must invest, with purpose and discipline, in things that we want to see. and we must protect, with patience and courage, the things that we want to keep growing.

so my questions to you, for april 2025: what are you building, slowly and thoughtfully? what are you investing in, and what does that look like? which boundaries are protecting you, and how are you enforcing them for yourself? what is your focus, and how are you maintaining that focus?

how are you being a leader in your own life, caring for yourself as well as those around you? which structures allow you not only to have your physical needs met, but also your spiritual needs, your emotional needs, your intellectual needs? how are you tending to all parts of yourself? how are you protecting your own humanity?

and as we move into this new month, how are you sinking into the role you know you were born to do?

wishing you a safe, healthy, protected april, friends. and remember that if you could use support in identifying and celebrating your own talents, clarifying a role for yourself, and cultivating deeper respect for those in your own communities, ocean's 16 makes an excellent companion for this work!