It’s a funny thing that, as the daylight gets more scarce and the nights longer and colder, it feels like we’re in the depths and wilds of winter, so that when Winter Solstice comes, the very Longest Night, the tipping point, we breathe a sigh of relief, grateful for the return of the light. What’s funny about it? That winter doesn’t even begin officially until after Longest Night, so this cold introspective party, full of secret, silent workings has really just begun! This realization can be stressful: we feel like we’ve been wintering forever, and it’s barely started–how are we supposed to weather the rest of the season? Especially if we don’t have enough–for warmth, for ease, for comfort or love or peace. img_7037

The 5 of Pentacles has been coming up all over the place in the last week or so–in spreads I did in person for myself and loved ones, in daily draws done by my people that I witnessed digitally. This is a card that makes sense for right now. Pentacles are about earthy things; not just money, but all the resources that we require as humans to keep our bodies and spirit whole and functioning: health, home, hearth, work, time, food. Fives indicate crisis and shifts. So, with them together, we have material instability. We’re feeling the lack, whether it be of financial space to buy the things that sweeten our lives and the lives of those we love, or of bonhomie and love from our family of origin. Maybe work is slow and you’re worried about being laid off, or the gas bill was too high, and so your little toes haven’t been warm in days. Perhaps your joints and muscles are reminding you that winter is barely underway. Or, possibly none of those are true, but you’re all alone, feeling unknown and unknowable, or too well-known, and too little-loved as a result.

When we have that feeling of Not Enough, it’s easy to slip into an exhaustive list of all that we’re missing–what we used to have and no longer do, what we deserve and don’t get, what we give to others but never get gifted. And that’s okay. Denying your feelings doesn’t increase your resources, so go for it–feel that fear that you’re going to be poor forever, explore your resentment about how you can’t ever get any reciprocity, let yourself be pulled down by the weight of your sick, broken body. img_7036

But don’t stop there–take a full inventory of all that you have, too. Because you do have, you have all sorts of resources that you discount and forget, that you disparage and ignore. Count carefully the skills you’ve spent a lifetime building (and recognize that you’re undoubtedly overlooking some) and figure out how you can use them to get the things you need but don’t have. Remember the work your body can and does perform for you everyday, even if imperfectly–your lungs that take in and expel breath, your heart that pumps blood to the outer reaches of your body. Notice the people in your life who show up, and keep showing up, in love and fear, through feast and famine.

When you don’t have enough, an accounting becomes even more important–you must not scorn what means you have, you must not write off whatever reserves you have as unimportant, unsatisfactory, worthless. Instead, acknowledge what all you have to work with, no matter how meager, no matter how scant. That acknowledgment is important, because The Hex would have you believe that you’re nothing, that we’re nothing, that we never have been or will be or could be enough to make a difference or to be worth struggling for, but we reject that bullshit, we call it out in order to cancel the lie of our insufficiency, we deny it to bind it from worming its way into our beautiful bright capable souls. We are Enough, even if we don’t have enough, and what we don’t have we can get, and if we can’t get it, we can dream and create ways of being that don’t require it.