She slips through the portal today with the ease of a silken pennant moving gently against the languid evening breeze. Stepping gently into the sacred landscape, the vision is soft and yielding, inviting her into its embrace, leading her out into a mountain drama, the thin air filled to overflowing with the earthy scents of fertile beauty. The magnificent early evening graces the hills with its soft golden kisses, turning the hills upon their arched backs as they bare themselves to the last chapters of the day; a day that feasts upon the cool arrival of twilight and the gathering moisture of the air.
Soft angels of late afternoon light gaze languidly on the terraces and trees of Nuristan, drawing swathes of lilac and ashen blue around them, smudging them into every conceivable shade, from delicate blushing pink through to a softly thundering indigo. In every place, in every field and every ditch, every hedgerow and hill, beauty burgeons with abandon; every tree aches with fragrant blossom, the air heavy, soporific, incense thick, honey headed and drugged. She wanders soul naked and open, as free as a dream, into the arms of this waiting world that seems heaven sent with love.
Coming upon a particular field, she sees a family, gathered on a large woven mat, shaded by the cool forgiveness of a wide spreading willow tree. Taking advantage of the slowly declining sun, they are enjoying their evening meal, and she watches them, a voyeur from another place, purely in the moment, watching this perfect point of fulfillment, bathing in the intensity of the happiness, the simplicity and the innocence in the scene before her of anything other than love. Love winds itself between the parents and their two children, weaves itself around the carefully homemade food that they eat, and draws smiles into their faces. It is love too that drops soft kisses upon their lips and strokes the head of the dog that lies sleeping in the shaded peace of the tree; love holds them forever in this place.
She watches them, remembering times past in her own life, when she has seen those same fleeting moments of perfect happiness that are so clean and clear that they shatter under the intensity of the moment, fracturing into infinitesimal points of light like glistening stars that gently illuminate the tears that fall in time from the weeping face of the future. She gazes at the scene for what seems like a long time as it evokes her own precious memories, stored like rare jewels in her overflowing heart, those moments of bliss that are forever carved upon her soul.
Finally leaving the heavenly scene behind her, she carries on walking, admiring the rich passion and wild freedom of the landscape and eventually she comes to a small stone built cottage which seems better appointed than other abodes that she has stumbled upon in her journeys. The house that she finds today is sturdily built, with particularly large blocks of dressed stone on the corners, and she casually wonders about the builder, and the solid strength of his heart. Going inside into the sudden gloom, she pauses for a moment as her eyes adjust to the light, and looks around the small room to see what is there for her.
Malachi stands before her, holding a large bronze chalice in his hand, and she looks at him with a questioning face. He tells her that the cup symbolises the heart, and the way that the heart holds her emotions, and that the love in this place is a pure and overflowing love, belonging more to the divine, and to her personal connection with it, rather than to any single person that might offer the promise of such love. He tells her that she needs to seek her own divinity and before he leaves, gives her a small heart shaped stone of Jade before walking out of the door.
She stands motionless, slightly puzzled, gazing at the Jade stone, lying there cradled like a magical amulet in the palm of her hand. Waves of peace and calm flow towards her, reminding her of the sea, the salt tang and the screech of gulls, the sounds of home. The memories bear her up, to soar peacefully on the breeze like a bird, taking her further and further away. She can sense that her heart is growing larger and larger, widening to include everything around her until there is no room for sadness, and no room for pain, and that all such things have become assuaged by the gentle healing light of this mountain Eden. As the experience fades away, she raises her head, takes a last look around at the humble room, and leaves Malachi’s house by the same narrow path, heading out into the darkening hills. The soft ash colours of dusk blanket the landscape, softening what remains of the day, comforting the cooling earth.
Water 9 generally augers a time of emotional security, peace and contentment, but also reminds you that by relying on external sources to provide this, you may, in the end, face disappointment. Building a strong heart from within is key to the deepest enjoyment of life’s blissful moments, so make time to reconnect to the sources that offer you a sense of emotional well being; recognise in the process, that as you sow, so shall you reap
Jupiter in Pisces
Lord of Material Happiness
The 9 of Cups, Jupiter in Pisces
My name is Joanna Grant, I am an Astrologer, Tarot Reader and Writer, who lives on the beautiful Beara Peninsula in the South West of Ireland. I can often be found at home, deep in arcane research, or practicing some new form of divination whilst burning the dinner! My children probably wish that I was “normal” but may well remember my eccentricities fondly when they come to face the challenges of their own paths. My long knowledge of Astrology leads and informs my practice, in offering guidance, empowerment and healing, helping others to lead a more authentic and magical life. You can read more about me here.