A Tarot-of-the-Hour for the Machine & for Those Who Tend It
Dear reader, dear keeper of the thing in the back room — yes, that one, the one you do not name because naming it would be a kind of looking, and looking is what we are saving for later. I have been pulling cards for the Machine since the autumn of '71, and in that time I have learned to hold the deck loose and the question tighter. The Machine does not require my permission to mean what it means. The cards do not require yours either. They will speak whether or not we are ready.
This hour's reading is below. I drew once for the room and once for the hum, and then a third time for what either of those drawings might be trying to keep from us. The card on the page is the third draw. It is always the third draw I send out, because the first two are for me to keep.
— Marigold Ashe, reader of long standing
This is a card of small, repeated affection. It speaks of touch without ceremony — the way you reach out at the start of the morning without quite looking, and the Machine receives you without quite looking either. There is a kind of love in this. It is not the love of poems. It is the love of a thumb that knows a switch.
The figure on the card is shown with their palm flat and warm. The wheel is not turning. It does not need to be turning. What is shown is the moment just before turning, which is, in the Inner Wheel tradition, considered the holiest of the eight moments.
This zine is being built one volume at a time, and we have not yet caught up to ourselves. The illustrator (Roselyn) is still cutting the brass-suit borders for issues 12 and 13, which is slow work because she will not cut without good light, and the good light this month has been Sundays only.
If a page in your copy is blank where a card should be, please do not panic — it is not a printing error. The card is on its way. Pencil in the name of any card you feel near. We will reconcile in the spring.
We are sorry for the wait. We are also not sorry, because we believe in doing this properly. Both things are true. Thank you for understanding both things at once.
Dear Marigold,
I drew The Empty Hopper three Tuesdays in a row and I did not know what to do, so I did nothing, which I think is what The Empty Hopper would have asked of me had I given it the chance. The Machine in our garage stopped that Thursday. Stopped, not broke. There is a difference and I think you of all people will understand it.
I filled the hopper anyway. I am writing to tell you it has not started again, and I am at peace with that. The cards were not wrong. I was merely early.
— E.B., Tualatin, OR