History of a Feeling
Does it feel like 2022 to you?
Well, look at that! It’s another week. Today we have:
a tarot reading
a small coincidence
a memory (several)
a tarot reading
in the erosion, the release, the truth seeping:
you aren’t alone - mesquite tarot
The card descriptions are going here; full reading will be at the end of the newsletter.
Five of Cups reversed was first. A figure stands waist-deep in rippling water, face in their hands, grieving. In front of them are three cups dripping, and behind them is a rainbow, two cups floating in the water. Grey clouds peek out from the corners.
Page of Pentacles came next. This is a simple card — one of creation and manifestation. With one hand, a person holds aloft a folded origami tsuru. They look peaceful and proud, readying themselves to release the crane into the sky.
Finally, we have Judgement, a card for the cocoons we create. We see a figure wrapped up in a blanket, cozy and warm. I see someone sleepy preparing to unfurl themselves and wake up a little. Maybe go make some tea. They stare pensively at us.
a small coincidence
This week I stumbled upon Madi Diaz’ History of a Feeling in NPR’s “What’s Making Us Happy” column because I was reading all 12 of Linda Holmes’ Ted Lasso reviews at 3 am. No, I’m still not over Ted Lasso. Give me two more weeks please.
A lot of the reviews I skimmed for Diaz’ album mention “Rage,” the opening song. The lyrics are searing but so soft-spoken and tender I didn’t catch them the first time I listened. It was “Crying in Public,” the third song of the album, that caught my ears. “I don't wanna be cryin' in public,” Diaz calls out, pleading.
On Sunday I was gifted Michelle Zauner’s Crying in H-Mart (thank you Ryan for lending!) and while I haven’t read more than the first page, I did read Zauner’s New Yorker article of the same name. It’s the first chapter of the book and it, too, calls out.
a memory (several)
I love odes to grocery stores. There were three my family would go to when we needed supplies. Smile Market, Oto’s Marketplace, and Koreana Plaza. All three started out small and lovingly cramped, but only Smile Market remains small, aisles littered with household staples. (Hi mom, if you’re reading this.)
I remember when Oto’s was nestled in the back of a forever dark and carpeted shopping center. My twin and I would run up and down the wide ramps, until the store moved down the street and became bright and forbiddingly chilly. We’d visit the fish counter to buy octopus for takoyaki or fresh tofu from Sacramento Tofu Company, up until STC closed in 2016.
When we were very young, we’d take our bikes and the light rail and go to Koreana. It’s still in the same place, right off Cordova Town Center station, but now it has a food court and karaoke bar and we drive there. There used to be a vendor who’d sell hot piroshkis stuffed with potatoes and ground beef, soaked with oil and so, so filling.
a tarot reading (continued)
This reading, like History of a Feeling, is about moving on. I want to drop the last year like a stone. When I graduated in 2020 I drew The World and said, “I’m closing a door.” But here I am back at USC. Ironically, we’ve drawn Judgement, the card that comes right before The World in the major arcana. It seems like I’m closing another door soon. But doors rarely stay closed.
I’m looking forward to this year. Dice & Pizza is trucking along, I’ve started my job, I’m writing. I’m making decisions. I’m folding a crane that will fly. And I want to be honest this year. Well, it’s been six days and I’ve failed that.
Last newsletter I mentioned that those around me want to return to a place that no longer exists. This week I’m the one seeking a return to nowhere. I’ll be in Seattle, the city where I was born, and Bellevue, the sister city only my parents remember. I’ll be with my mom (hi again), where she’ll scope out old haunts and I’ll be at OrcaCon, a tabletop game conference I won tickets to last year.
Judgment is not a harsh card, but it. is. honest. The Sasuraibito version asks you to wake up, and I slept through most of my mornings this week. Thankfully, there’s always next week (until there isn’t). I’ll leave you with the opening lines of “History of a Feeling.”
I don't know where I started, but I know where I stand
It comes back like a whisper when I've tried to wash my hands
of it
And when I walk away, I take you as I'm leaving
I'm still living in the history of a feeling
Where do we stand? What does it whisper? I’m carrying you with me.
Warmly,
Mya Worrell
Returning to a place that no longer exists. Searing and honest. I feel the same.