Mabon Blessings
catching the overflow of abundance with the 9 of Cups
Happy Mabon/Fall Equinox!
It’s time to reap the bounty you’ve sown and bask in the fulfillment of your dreams, and your tarot card for the week is right in line with this.
I’ve had overflow on my mind recently. Did you catch a glimpse of the Full Moon Lunar Eclipse on Tuesday? My own eyes missed seeing it, but evidence of the supermoon is all around. There was a stunning photo on the front page of Wednesday’s Wall Street Journal. But most of all, I see it in the abundance of water. The moon controls the tides, and with a supermoon comes supertides. Every beach and muddy river bank is filled with water flowing so high it feels like a martini glass ready to spill.
I observed this yesterday while driving along a narrow causeway connecting Deer Isle to Little Deer Isle. The water seemed to be mere inches from the dry road, and I thought, “The moon is pulling so much water from the earth, I wonder why it hasn’t made me more emotional?”
Of course, I started crying shortly after that.
But not until I got closer to home and passed a small (but mighty) group of protestors in Blue Hill. They were holding painted signs calling for an end to the Israel-Hamas war. One or three of them said, “Honk 4 Ceasefire Now!”
If only it were that easy.
So I honked my Jeep’s oOga horn. The protestors cheered. Everyone loves an oOga horn. I honked a few more times and held my other hand in a peace sign as I made eye contact with one protestor.
I would’ve found a parking spot, got out, and spent some time there with them, but that’s exactly when the tears started welling up in my eyes. Suddenly, my heart became that narrow causeway on the verge of flooding. I fought for a moment to keep it in, and even asked myself, “why?”
Maybe it was the look of hope in that one protestor’s face. Or because it’s nearly Halloween, and I remembered carving a peace sign into my pumpkin as a magical call for peace between Israel and Gaza. Or because I’m 41 years old, and have childhood memories of public cries for peace over there, and there doesn’t seem to be any change.
Maybe it was tender feelings of admiration for the courageous and compassionate souls who continue to call for peace anyway.
I drove out of town and let the tears fall.
But the floodgates were open, and the quiet tears became heavy sobs. I’m not a cute crier.
My thoughts shifted to the mail route I’d just finished delivering on Deer Isle. It’s a small one — only a few hours — that the former postmistress used to deliver herself. She died of pancreatic cancer earlier this year. I never got to meet her, but I can tell she was loved by her community.
I know because I’ve stopped to pet the dogs Stephanie used to stop and pet. I give them the treats she left in the van (with permission from their humans, ofc). I chat with their humans about how they miss Stephanie. How one time she forgot to bring treats, and shared bits of her lunch with the dogs.
They tell me how their dogs have grieved since Stephanie passed away. I listen.
My time delivering mail on that small route is coming to an end. Before I left the office yesterday, I left several notes in the case for whatever future carriers will work there. I noted the friendly dogs that are allowed treats. A detailed note about the older widow who kindly asked me to bring her mail into the house because she lacks the strength to get her wheelchair up the ramp after checking the mailbox in her driveway.
I worry that a carrier who’s in a rush, or who simply doesn’t care, might not take the time to bring this woman’s mail to the house and chat with her for a minute, or stop and pet the dogs who are so happy to see the mail van approach, always hoping to find their beloved postmistress.
I worry that not enough people care.
And those of us who do are sometimes left with an overwhelming amount of caring, and sometimes it feels like a flood.
And then I realize how fucking lucky I am to have space in my heart to care. Because I’m safe. I’m loved. I have everything I need, and that makes me one of the most abundant, blessed, and fortunate people in this world.
The Nine of Cups
The nine of cups is traditionally a card of wishes granted. When I pull this card in a reading, I usually suggest a simple manifestation ritual to the client.
What have you been wishing for? This card appears to let you know fulfillment is on its way. Make sure you’re open to receiving it. See those cups set behind the person in this card? They’re vessels for abundance to flow into. Making a wish is only the first step. You must create space and opportunities in your life for your dreams to come to fruition.
Whenever I’m trying to manifest something, I set out metaphorical “buckets” to catch that thing. What does this look like? It depends on what you’re after. If you want more connection, are you putting yourself in public spaces where you can meet people? If you want prosperity, are you applying for jobs and researching grants? If you want a ceasefire, are you protesting and signing petitions? If you want political change, are you registered to vote?
And if you’re not sure what you want, this card may be a sign to get intentional about your pursuits and desires. Take 5 to meditate on it. Do some journaling. Start a vision board and see what comes of it.
If you’re already feeling like you have everything you need, then baby, I’m right there with you. Let’s hug and cry about it.
For more personalized insight, book a tarot reading with me today <3
I love you!
Lauren