A Vignette by Sydney Madison

I have been a patron of Everyday Magic since I was a lunar-loving witchling and EM’s first storefront opened on a downtown street in Durham, North Carolina, but it was just last winter that I held my first piece of the moon. In Bakara’s Tivoli cabin I put the better part of my winter savings into a small piece of the light that had guided me home my whole life. As Spring rolled around I was knee deep in a domestic violence situation that was born in the hardest chapter of my life.To me it felt like safety, for even abuse, when formed in the right, desperate circumstances, can feel like comfort and protection. For those who are familiar with the Tarot, I was in a space similar to the valley in The Moon Card, where the truth is blurry. The waves of The High Priestess’s ocean were eroding my insides as intuition and fear fought in the tides.

I like to remember that astrologically, the moon rules the High Priestess Card, the card of intuition, not The Moon card, which is ruled by Pisces. The moon opens us to the truth, and in her presence we can begin to feel in our body what is wrong and right for us. She bolsters our courage to do what is best for ourselves, and when we do not, she erodes the world we know until we have no choice. It is The High Priestess’s lightning that strikes The Tower down, after all.

I wear my moon pendant every day. I am now the happiest I have ever been, writing my own tarot deck with one of my dear friends and getting off the ground with my tarot business. I am dating my best friend, building up my collection of second hand vintage clothes, and spending mornings outside with my dog in the New England fog. And it feels right, deep in my core. Most importantly, I am striving to help others see that what feels safe is not always safe and doing what is terrifying can be the greatest choice we will ever make. A Cherry Tree in the Ocean is a piece I wrote during the time I was taking that leap, with my moon round my neck. I am so grateful for her.
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There is a cherry tree that once grew in the ocean. That's not the kind of bargain God strikes easily: salt water is much too briny and the sea floor far too deep for cherry roots to twist and anchor into. On my shore though, under fierce moonlight, there was a cherry tree that stubbornly grew in the tide. Reaching through the waves and brine her branches twisted towards the deepest darkness, and most of the time, she was hard to make out. But when we could see her, when the Moon's reflection was soft on her sweet canopy, we remembered her with aching hearts and longed to stay by her always.

Over time, it was rarely lost to us that she was the most beautiful thing in our world. We’d hang from her limbs protected from the roaring waves. In the wintertime she was warm, and while the tides abused each other she held us tight under the floral wings of her protection. In her arms we ate cherries out of my full, greedy hands and smiled red and deep. We had a home on a
dark shore. So, when the tides began to erode our cherry tree into stubborn fury, we held onto her, the only thing we knew to be good in the world.

We cast spells and made wishes, clung to her branches and each other while the ocean raged. We laid at her base and prayed and pushed, entering the divine lottery with everything in our pockets so that maybe our human feet might anchor a beast to a belligerent sea. On the day she finally succumbed, the ocean was violent and we were different. We were tired, holding on for so long, and the cherries we used to eat had rotted off the vine. We smiled at each other in a way that could only be explained as a mutual apology. The spells were lost and the wishes didn’t come true. How does one not spend their last dollar on a boat when their doomed love is pulled to sea? How can you stop trying?

On the darkest nights I wonder if I were to search and find her, if she might be planted again? Maybe in the solid earth, this time, but overlooking the beach, so she could remember where she came from. She’d finally feel the sun. A tree where she’s supposed to be.

Deep down though, I don't know if on Earth she would ever be so magnificent. A cherry tree in the soil is in defiance of no power, is no miracle to a wary crewman searching for God. I doubt if she’d ever take to that kind of life, and it keeps me stuck. And of course, she's still out at sea in the best of situations. Her trunk could have washed up on Cape Cod by now, and that's no place for a girl with my hand. She could have sunk, a final act of brutality from the Moon. But I do wonder if she’s out there, and if that’s where she’s supposed to be. Floating. Never to be lost completely, but never found. A homeless, funny thing. A cherry tree in the ocean. My deepest, aching love.