two of cups & creative devotion

hello, friends. earlier this month i shared an essay on the two of cups as a card of love, and choice, and expansion. and today i want to offer another perspective on this card, as an opportunity to fall in love with creativity, with our creative selves, with our creative expressions.

i know that this world is really heavy and scary and hard. i know that it might feel like all you can do to just wake up each day and not stay hiding in bed. i know that you might feel exhausted, overwhelmed, furious, despondent. i also know that the snowstorm that is currently burying NYC and so much of the northeast can make those "i am just going to hide forever" vibes even stronger.

my hope is that today's essay gives you some food for thought, some nourishment, maybe even some shreds of hope to hold on to. your heavy feelings are so valid — and, also, the tarot has some beautiful ways of helping us find bits of magic in unexpected places. if you've been feeling disconnected from yourself and your gifts lately, if you're looking for a simple way to activate your creative and spiritual sparks today, this essay is for you.

today's essay stands alone, and includes a tarot spread for you to try out right away. and, at the end you'll also find a brief reminder about our third cohort of the grove, which begins on march 1st. the pitch is at the end, so if you're in a place where promotions of any kind feel bad, you can skip it.

let's talk about the two of cups and creative devotion.

what is creativity? and what does it mean to have a relationship with creativity?

creativity is imagination, and expression. it’s art, sure, but it’s also originality, thinking outside the box, dreaming, wonder, possibility. creativity is potential and possibility, innovation and invention, experimenting and envisioning. 

everybody has a creative spirit. yes, even if you aren’t a full-time creative professional or a working artist or someone who pays for your life by making original things — every single one of us has creativity within us. it’s just that so many of us were pigeonholed as a kid, or told one too many times that we aren’t "good at something" and so we shouldn’t bother spending time on it. we equate talent with passion, and emphasize natural skill above practice, desire, or pleasure — very much to our own detriment.

i liked drawing and painting and sculpting as a child, but didn't know much about visual art. my attempts to draw flowers or fruit rarely went well, and i frequently got frustrated by my inability to capture the scene in front of me or the visions in my head. but like so many, rather than being encouraged to enjoy the process and play around and make something original, i was pushed towards music, where i had more natural talent. maybe it wouldn't have taken me so long to find my passion for photography if i'd been given more space to play around in different visual artistic mediums as a kid, or told that a person can learn to be good at things even if they take awhile to figure it all out.

in the same way, i've loved stories since i was a child, and tried to write so many over the years. but i didn't do very well in school, struggled to make meaningful narratives out of the characters and worlds that i liked to build, and was complimented far more on my research skills and ability to teach people how to do things than the characters i dreamed up — so rather than continuing to try and write fiction, i pivoted to nonfiction. i've been pretty successful at this, and love it enough to make writing the center of my business and livelihood! and, also, even at the age of 40 and with many published works under my belt, i still don’t describe myself as a creative writer — simply a nonfiction writer, a prescriptive writer, a tarot writer.

these kinds of labels are helpful, sometimes. but i wish it felt easier for me to call myself an artist, a writer, a teacher. the imposter syndrome is wild, regardless of how many achievements i reach or how many new things i create. i don't share this for pity — i share this to tell you that even professional writers and artists and teachers wonder if those labels are accurate. the things we're told we're good at (or not good at) can shape so much of how we see ourselves — and we can get so used to embracing or avoiding certain labels that even the idea of changing them can feel disruptive, impossible.

creativity can be many things, can serve many purposes. but if you only take one thing from this essay, let it be this: you are a creative person, whether you get paid for your creative works or not. i don't care what your third grade art teacher or your ninth grade english teacher or your mom or your mentor or whoever told you otherwise. anyone and everyone has the potential to make something, to express something.

so what does any of this have to do with tarot? enter the two of cups.

when we think about creativity cards in the tarot, we often think about cards that represent outpourings and products, something we can show to other people. cards like the empress, the nine of pentacles, the three of wands, the chariot, the sun, the ten of cups: cards of visibility, of breakthroughs, of abundance, of offerings, of celebration, of success. 

but today i want to offer the two of cups as a card of creativity — not a card that represents a first draft or finished product that goes out into the world, but rather as a card of creative devotion, creative choice. a card of deciding to love something, of deciding to be open to vulnerability, of deciding to spend time in attention and joy. this is a card of naming the desire of our hearts and letting ourselves choose to pursue it — and anyone, absolutely fucking anyone, can choose to pursue creativity as a practice, as a ritual, as an ongoing relationship.

the two of cups offers you a choice: to make the bad art. to try and fail. to create something ugly or weird, that only makes sense to you (or maybe doesn't make sense to you either). to choose to fall in love with creativity simply because you want to. to let yourself tumble headfirst into a relationship with your creativity that excites and delights you — not because of the finished product, not because you have a natural gift, not because you want it to be your entire career, but because you love creativity itself and want it to be a regular part of your life.

this card isn’t about material success or finishing strong. it isn’t about holding your published book in your hands or seeing your art hanging in a gallery or winning awards or anything else. the two of cups isn't about the result. this card is personal, internal, and overflowing with intention. successes and achievements are fucking amazing — and they also aren’t the entire purpose of a creative practice, or of creative efforts. creativity itself is worth doing, worth investing in, worth fighting for, simply because you want to do it.

who benefits from you believing that you aren't creative, that your imagination is too small or dull, that you can only do things when they're perfect? in a world where billionaires want to outsource creativity to plagiarism robots, where so many people don’t ever read or create or experiment or play or step outside the box or challenge anything, creativity feels incredibly fucking important as a way to stay connected to ourselves, our people, and our humanity.

your relationship to creativity matters, so much. so how do we build it up? how do we bring creativity into our lives in a way that's about pleasure, not pressure?

in a recent dungeons & dragons game that i play with some brilliant witchy beloveds, my unarmed fighter greer gave a fellow boxer NPC a much-needed pep talk after a tough loss. if you play d&d (and honestly if you don’t i highly recommend it as a way to get way closer to your friends, practice collaborative storytelling, activate your imagination, and get comfortable with vulnerability and failure), you know that sometimes the characters just fully take the reins — and in this case, greer gave a bit of a sermon. to quote my character:

“you can’t only want to fight when you’re winning. if you only like fighting when you’re winning, it’s gonna suck for a really long time…you gotta have some other reason to do this or you’re gonna burn out. if you wanna do this, you gotta lean in, find your people, and keep showing up.”

in other words, success isn't everything. you gotta love the thing you're doing, or you're going to abandon it pretty quickly. and it's easier to stay in love with the thing you're doing if you're in the company of other people who also love it.

this concept is true for a lot of things: it’s true of organizing efforts and mutual aid, it’s true of protesting and fighting back, it’s true of community work and direct actions and ongoing growth and systemic change and and and. but it’s also true for personal goals, for ambitions, for dreams, for longings. and it’s very true for creativity, and the tendency that we have to optimize or commodify creativity instead of simply enjoying it.

if you only want to make art when you’ll be immediately “good” at it or make something flawless, you’ll end up giving up pretty quickly. if you only try to create when you feel inspiration strike, you’re not going to end up creating very often, or for very long. if you only show up for creative efforts when you know you’ll be praised for whatever you make, it’s going to be hard to stick with them. if your relationship with creativity is extractive and results-oriented, it’s going to leave you feeling tired, frustrated, and like you shouldn’t even bother.

but: if you choose to regularly and intentionally engage with your creativity, with joy and excitement and passion and curiosity regardless of what you make or how it turns out or who else likes it — well, then you’re building a devoted and ongoing reciprocal relationship with your creativity. and that, for me and for so many i know, is where the real magic actually lives.

it doesn't matter what your medium is. it doesn't matter if you like words or visuals or sounds or smells or tastes or textures, if you like digital or physical formats, if you've never finished a project in your goddamn life. it doesn't matter if what you're making is pretty or accurate or realistic or whatever. it doesn't matter what you're doing, or how you're doing it, or if you do it at the same time every day or week or month. it doesn't even matter if it's "good." what matters is that you try, and play, and show up, and see what happens, again and again. what matters is that you let yourself fall in love with making things that spring entirely from your own heart, and that you keep doing it.

(this is where community can be really helpful — because when we have people we can talk to, share with, complain to, laugh with, be vulnerable with, and grow alongside, creativity feels less like a high-expectation performance and more like a playful way to try things out, be weird, and get messy. devotion isn’t only something we do in private; it’s also something we can practice together.)

i want you to fall in love with creativity itself — not because you want to get really good at a creative skill, but because you want to allow yourself the freedom to express things imperfectly, discover the truth in what you’re creating in real-time, and cherish the part of you that wants to play and try and make. creative practices, regardless of the medium or the skill level or how often we engage with a specific project, keep our hearts and minds nimble. they keep our imaginations expansive. they empower us to keep dreaming, to stay hopeful, to invite in optimism.

the two of cups represents the choice we make, again and again, to try.

your passion matters. your messes matter. your weird ideas matter. your imagination matters. your bad art matters. let yourself fall in love, again and again, with the process — and take pleasure in messing around and screwing up and being imperfect. and if you wanna pull some tarot cards about it, i've got a spread for you:

card one / something you love: something you're head over heels for, really into, excited about, connected to. something that has your heart

card two / something that loves you: something that is wild about you, ready for you, supporting you, inspiring you. something that keeps you warm

card three / something you're ready for: something to open to, for, with. an opportunity, a potential, a possibility. something you can choose

let yourself fall in love with making, friends. let creativity be play and joy and laughter and experimentation, instead of only a finished product or a final draft. you're creative already. i promise. you've just gotta give yourself permission to bring creativity into your life in an ongoing way — one choice, one day, one effort at a time.

this is the end of the essay. but if these ideas really resonated, if you feel eager and energized to join with other creative people and bring your art and magic into your regular life, the grove is for you.

the grove, at its core, puts you into active and compassionate community with other people who have made the same choice as you: to make intentional space for creativity, to find the magic in art and the art in magic, to celebrate the ongoing devotion to creative efforts.

featuring monthly themes, ongoing discussions, spiritual resources, and a community of brilliant artists who share your values, the grove is a place to nourish and tend your own relationship with creativity and truly come alive again.

we begin on march 1st — and if you want more details, have questions, or just wanna hang out with us for a bit, jeanna and i are hosting a grove virtual open house on wednesday february 26th at 6pm EST. we'd love to see you there and chat about creative practices, spiritual tools, and whatever else you wanna discuss. register here.

sending you love, creativity, magic, wonder, and hope, friends. make something silly or joyful or inspired today, text a friend, drink some water, and i'll be back in your inboxes soon with more.