gods, I love a doorway
More portals, pleeease! Don’t care if they’re not selling!
I’ve always loved portals. I can’t get enough of them. Whenever the traditional publishing industry is like “ehh, enough with the portals”* I’m like ACTUALLY, MORE, PLEASE!
*Listen, those folks are always like “enough of [x]” with the exception of celebrity cookbooks, so why do we bother keeping track?
And hey, how about portals in Tarot? The Gate Cards, as termed by Rachel Pollack in Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom, are specific cards Pollack found to be a little extra. They have layered illustrations that invite the viewer on a journey. You’re meant to stare at the images a long time and muse on the magic. You sink into the card, and the card invites you to change your point of view. Here’s one—Three of Wands—in the Modern Witch Deck. This is my favorite Gate Card. You get to wonder: Where are the ships headed? Who’s traveling? Is she a light packer? Or is her stuff already onboard?
And then there are portals in wild spaces, which I’ve mentioned often for both Fall and Winter Creative Commitment. I love the way that a forest will lose its leaves, and suddenly there is an open pathway that leads to the sky. Even in the evergreen juniper grove near my house, there are plenty of deciduous interlopers that will shed their finery and open up the canopy so you can better see an owl flick its ear feathers.
This was the edition I had growing up. The cover by Roger Hane reminds me of the unfolding layers of the gate cards, in particular the Aquarian Deck by David Pallidini.
And, of course, there’s Greta Gerwig’s next existing-IP-blockbuster, which puts me in mind of the portal to Narnia and how Lucy looks back over her shoulder.
“She looked back over her shoulder and there, between the dark tree-trunks, she could still see the open doorway of the wardrobe and even catch a glimpse of the empty room from which she had set out….‘I can always get back if anything goes wrong,’ thought Lucy.”
Well, Lucy. It won’t be that simple.
No portal is—we’re not meant to come back through the same way we came in.
In planning Winter Creative Commitment, I’m wondering how we can allow the expansive silence and magic of the season to inspire a change in our creative work. What would happen if we allowed for more observation and less (what we might term as) productivity? What would happen if we sat by the fire and stared into the flames? What would happen if we allowed for change instead of forcing it? What does that look like (maybe we need help from each other to envision it)? Maybe we learn that very answer in creative community, YES!
How will you allow the winter portal to change your work?
Quiet Portal: Guided Magic, Writing, Reflection
I’ve probably posted portal-inspired guided writing before now, but like I said—unlike trad publishing, I am always up for more. These prompts give you a sense for the vibe of Winter Creative Commitment. Each Saturday gathering offers two additional takeaway activities: magic and craft. The below is a bit of a combo!
First, find a portal. This could be something in your neighborhood or your own backyard—big or small. For example, there is a mural artist in my neighborhood who has painted a mouse-sized doorway at the bottom of his fence (!!!). It could be the sky between sycamore branches, or a garden gate that feels especially magic. It could be a painting that has a portal. No right or wrong approach here.
Take a pic of the portal, if you can do so without being creepy (don’t photograph anyone without their permission, please).
Once you’re in a cozy writing spot, glance at your portal pic. Take it in like a Gate Card, really savor it, then put your phone out of sight. Write down everything you observed about this portal—mouse-sized, sky-width, blue-gray, bejeweled. Write for 6-7 minutes.
Write down where this portal goes and how you will follow it. Are you taking anything with you? Do you have a walking staff like the Three of Wands seeker? Or a special stone in your pocket? A mantra? Write for 5-6 minutes.
Reflect on how this journey will change you. How will you emerge/return? What stories will you tell? Write for 6-7 minutes.
When you look up from the page or away from the screen, take a deep breath.
Bonus: Step outside and stare up at the sky, even if that sky is buildings, rooftops, tangled branches, etc. Breathe in the portal of it all.