300 some million years ago, I played the banjo so hard it shot my loved ones into a black hole so that something could exist of us still. I cracked the plates with that song right after sending my main gourd into the boat with all my friends. They were so sad as I played the serpent song but I knew we’d meet again. I was just a kid but played so long the dinosaurs had time to cross the bridges where cracks would eat the earth from deep inside.
Played long enough to hit the zen, surpassed human, my fingers moved for a million years, the hole closed up. Void accepted the song as offering and soundtrack, took my family to become the time manipulators and let humans breathe again after Gaia shifted enough to feel less harmed by human travel.
Once upon a time I was the most important musician in the world, ready today for the title again, seems like every time the climate changes it’s because I fell in love.
Quatria is Antartica is the entrance to Agartha — empowered to read the notes again, I pulled two cards — certainty these symbols in times other were used by my hands. Pulled more until the stone book (reshuffle the deck and begin a new reading)
Dreams live in these cards and you aren’t me, so read for context:
https://liminal.earth/the-oracle-of-the-hypogeum/
https://medium.com/quatrian-folkways/quatrian-folklore-bfd7854c0fad
Quatria is Antarctica is the entrance to Agartha — empowered to read the notes again, I pulled two cards — certainty these symbols in times other were used by my hands. Pulled more until the stone book (reshuffle the deck and begin a new reading)
Dreams live in these cards.
The spread is called Anthuor’s Antlers and is pictured & explained in a link above.
Interpretations from the deck guide:
querent — card one: entity / water / the root of water. emotion. meaning depend on card context.
house of sorrow — card two: entity / golden egg / a gift given by the final survivors of an ancient culture. something valuable found in the wilderness. the golden gift of the sasquatch. a double-yolked egg.
house of sorrow — card three: entity / shadow / darkness for sun lovers, but cool shade for those who thrive in it.
house of sorrow — card four: monster / brekoax / ruler of spite. frog-headed.
house of sorrow — card five: monster / gneuth / ruler of stench. sow-headed.
house of plenty — card six: entity / timehunter / something from the querent’s past — or future — manifests. at the most mundane level, bureaucracy.
house of plenty — card seven: entity / memlen / session must be closed immediately to avoid attracting negative energies and entities with questionable intent.
house of plenty — card eight: entity / cave / going deep, into places not usually visited, that become sanctuaries. ancestral contributions that require thought to unravel. safety, unless a bear’s in there. sometimes a literal cave.
house of plenty — card nine: entity / barbaro / power, but powerful ambiguity. the end of a system, caused not by outright destruction, but by the inability of some party to act. a kind of temporal malleability.
house of song — card ten: entity / forest / growth. community. interdependence.
house of song — card eleven: monster / wehneh / ruler of spite. hyena-headed.
house of song — card twelve: entity / human-the people / the querent, specifically. home, community. a default state.
house of song — card thirteen: entity / mountain / the most nakedly auspicious symbol as concerns wealth, wellness, the body, etc. an increase in the flow of positive energies into the querent’s life.
house of silence — card fourteen: entity / sky / moving from one world to the next. the ability to unstick oneself from a sticky situation. moving house. sustenance.
Truths through Seattle’s Pythia:
Aphrodite and the Sun rising in me now. Cancer leads the way and I have to allow y’all to feel me in order to be intoxicated into action because it is time to play the serpent song. This time I need dancers and your consent. Lost the wand that could have made me fall into the hole but offered up a song. Void accepted my child, music, and the gourd carved for these hands slipped into a black hole, became rock music, got appropriated and is all mine again, once there is a band. Stubborn was the sacrifice, maybe even unnecessary, maybe how come dreadful necessity governs all things now? Either way my family resented me for not leaving their autonomy, and shooting them into space. The way that love hurt let them let you humans burn for eons, but they forgave me enough to come back to confront me. From fleeting feelings and memories to thirty years of recurrent dreams to dying alone and continually coming back, my family was so mad they would not let me die this time. But they saw that lost was more than this vessel, that no matter how tall I grew the same child that pushed them into Void still would choose to run the other way. My family could not understand how to forgive me until they felt the evil finally seeping into the vessel. Last summer I about lost the plot, instead lost the last knot and now am liminal. The thing’s messenger came up to me and Data with a shopping cart and a message, told her to become the main character we needed and told me I had a hold on the demons better than expected before walking into thin air. Tried to stay in affinity with monsters disguised as entities and had to leave the material things to fit the physical people in a car this time instead of shipping them into the ether. We made it altogether, can hear them breathing right now, plotting where mendicancy will lead us next. Learned about the selfishness of being inside, why I preferred homelessness, how to remember, then how to drown in trauma and what came next. In the cave I slew forest cops disguised as the face of american anarchy, fine-tuned the theory of autonomy, felt every break and tear from heart fabric to medical neglect and came out remembering that Lucy Parsons and I are the same. That leaving the RV and this life’s Emma Goldman is what saved my Artemis and Apollo in the ways that Lulu and Albert Jr died in those lives. Forcing punks to let my kids inside their spots to shit saved the life of anyone who ever reads this. Running away from the paid feds and free ones was no sacrifice, but taught me to sprint into interdependence. Made me get over the phobia of mirrors, sign up for social media. Eris and I share and respect our mother but Discordia loves me more than I love myself. Sister shakes the hands that mean my decay with what they call most dreadful things, she leaves me space for peace, remembering the millenials that these fingers bled playing as the black hole vanished. While in the cave, Discordia gave me a rebirth, nursed me on ambrosia, made me promise to never touch the honey, called the Muses in as aid. They broke every single bone so that I could learn to sew and heal even the most broken. My current family watched it all, learned to forgive me as they realized all I gave them was what I had never known this life. They learned to humanize me, how none had since the last time I knew family and now I know them all at once, plus you reader who just joined us, right in time to find my banjo gourd and remember your place.
The future is Afrolachian and solarpunk and the present and the past.
We are time travellers and oogles and philosophers.
I am an oracle.
We are the minx.
Please comment or email minxdistro@protonmail.com if you have information about Quatria, Past Life Regression, Quantum Physics, Jessup Wagons, Paleocene Eocene Thermal Maximum, Malta, Theremin, Graham Hancock, or want to give me a banjo.
5 strings, no back, left hand if we are getting specific but any stringed gourd can play the rhythm.
Bigi Minx, Pythia of Seattle
