You are The Empress

Beauty, happiness, pleasure, success, luxury, dissipation.

The Empress is associated with Venus, the feminine planet, so it represents,
beauty, charm, pleasure, luxury, and delight. You may be good at home
decorating, art or anything to do with making things beautiful.

The Empress is a creator, be it creation of life, of romance, of art or business. While the Magician is the primal spark, the idea made real, and the High Priestess is the one who gives the idea a form, the Empress is the womb where it gestates and grows till it is ready to be born. This is why her symbol is Venus, goddess of beautiful things as well as love. Even so, the Empress is more Demeter, goddess of abundance, then sensual Venus. She is the giver of Earthly gifts, yet at the same time, she can, in anger withhold, as Demeter did when her daughter, Persephone, was kidnapped. In fury and grief, she kept the Earth barren till her child was returned to her.

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The line of hanging hollow gourds chimes as the wind pushes past them. The air is immediately lit up with low pitches, high pitches and pitches-in-between. It is nature’s symphony, however unorganized it is.

            The other pedestrians just walk by this, taking advantage of yet another remarkable thing. As for me…I stand and watch them. It’s funny, how they hit against each other-a light touch, yet still hard enough to make a sound. I smile a bit. They’re almost like a family. Biting hard once and awhile, but always knowing the limit-always resolving the conflict in the end.

            Or, could the sound be caused by ghosts, trying to talk to us. After all, I imagine death would get awful quiet-not being able to talk to the spirit in the grave next to you. So why can’t they try talking to us?

            Perhaps it isn’t the chattering spirits, though. What if it’s one of those superstitious warnings? Like walking under a ladder. If I continued to look at the singing gourds, would I get cursed with some-number-of-years of bad luck? I chuckle a bit at the thought.

            The wind stops, as does the gourds’ song. I smile dreamily, still caught up in my thoughts. Shrugging, I left the gourds alone and continued my way down the street.

            The breeze swept through once again. Behind me I could hear the gourds perform their symphony. And I smirked, wondering what exactly their significance was.