A Wild Evolution

I had the idea to make my own oracle deck earlier this year. I didn't know at the time what it would be or if I would share it with other people, but I knew I wanted to challenge myself to create something tangible. The result was a a first-of-it's kind word-based deck derived from a collection of short-form poems. 

What I haven't really shared with anyone else is that the basis for the deck began right here, on this blog.

It was writing here-- about cocktails, art and pop culture, no less-- that I started to remember what it felt like to create. I felt the freedom to experiment a bit as I examined other people's work and distilled it (pun intended) into something that could be tasted. And little pieces of my own truth started tumbling out as well. 

In fact: The basis of what eventually became the opening section of the poems that formed the deck came right from a blog post I wrote about two and a half years ago:

When I was six, the earth gave way in a tremble. Glass collided with floor, appliances leaped through the air, furniture slid. There was a sound before it happened: A low rumble building from deep within the earth, traveling from the heart of the jolt. I remember my confused fear as my mom scooped my sister and I up, sliding us under a table as the world crashed around us. 
My family lived less than 20 miles from the epicenter of the Loma Prieta earthquake, but we were lucky to have been unharmed. I remember driving through neighboring towns of Watsonville and Santa Cruz, where the earth had cracked open in spots and many houses looked as though they'd been picked up and set next to their foundations. We didn't have power for a week after the quake, but my grandmother had sent us VHS tapes of the news coverage she recorded from her home in Michigan, showing California's nearly post-apocalyptic landscape of crumbled highways and buildings on fire... [Continue reading.]

The earth gave way in a tremble. That's how the poems begin. It's funny, really: This collection sprouted from me delving into the work of another artist who-- during the album referenced in this post-- was inspired by the work of an artist before him. The realization of it all makes my eyes well up. Art begets art, and it just won't quit.

The poems and the cards that came from them? Their roots go deep. They've been growing for years. The work that began here on this blog has evolved and become something I can hold. Something I can shuffle. Something I want to share with others. With you. 

I've labored to make this collection resonate with each person who holds it in their hands. I wanted each card to feel like a sweet nothing from the universe. I want each poem to bring you inward. Whether you read with or collect decks doesn't matter. Maybe there's something inside this collection that will speak to you in a way you didn't expect.

In any case, I sure hope you'll take a look at this project. And if you like what you see, I hope you'll pledge your support. I want to do more of this wild work, but I can't do it alone.

After all, "What's the point of singing songs if they'll never even hear you?"