That you are running away. That you are running away from. That you must run. And then I take a closer look and. He’s walking. She’s walking. He/she has a walking stick. This is not a run. This is… thoughtful. Thoughtfulness leave-taking thoughtful not a scamper no.

We learn, when confronted with this card, that there is melancholy, even a tough choice, and I mean: look at those cups. They look good, buddy! Pretty and probably full! Zaftig cups and look at you just look at you walking away with your walking stick.

BUT CLEARLY of course there are times in life when we have to walk away, the Full Moon above our heads and the chaotic clouds and the mountain the color of fire (is it a volcano?) portends, perhaps, walkabout.

He doesn’t look back and neither should you. You can keep the cups there. Nothing bad will happen to them. But I think you know this already. Or you would not have left them to fend for themselves. They may provide nourishment for human or animal wandering. They may tell a story of their own. Long story, short story. Each cup its own story.

One thing is for certain: when you see the Eight of Cups, you must go. You are going. You’re gone. What remains is yours but not yours. The animals who wander, the people who wander this particular stretch of Tarot landscape have been dreaming of this ocean for a long time now. Finishing up and moving on. That’s you. So thank you. Thank you for watering the earth.

Wishing you good cards xx