A hand with many silver rings holds The Emperor tarot card up to the camera with a gothic candle in the background — Credit: Emzzzz/Shutterstock

Dear Oracle, I once lived in an old city. Not old by global standards, but certainly by American standards. It was and is a beautiful and awful and terrible and brilliant place. There, I learned what food can be. How music can simultaneously destroy and elate you. I met the most wonderful and complicated friends I’ve known. I left this place years ago, yet I pine for the connection I believe it could give. Yet I know that was a moment long ago, passed as a leaf in the stream. Could I ever move back? Should I?—Musing on A Move

Cards to Stay: Death, Three of Pentacles, Eight of Pentacles (reversed)

Cards to Leave: Ace of Wands, Waning Crescent, Ace of Cups

Cards on How to Leave: Three of Cups, Six of Swords (reversed), The Emperor

Dear Musing,

The writer P.D. Adams once said, “I have always lived in charmless places,” a statement that I found terribly sad because I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Places are unique; they have their own energy or personalities, whatever you want to call it, and people respond differently to them. Some places light you up. Some depress you. And most make you feel “fine.”

Certainly, you can set up shop in a “fine” place. You’ll still have places to eat, things to do, and you can make a life there without a lot of struggle.

But when you find a place that has its own type of magic, a place that speaks to something deep inside of you, it feels like falling in love and, like a loving partner, it allows you to be your true self. And if you have to lose that love by moving to a charmless place, it feels like a catastrophic breakup.

It doesn’t surprise me that you miss your geographical mistress. With the Death card, I think you feel that loss deeply. Your life as it once was has ended, and a new one has come up. It’s in no way a bad life. With the Three and Eight of Pentacles, I bet you’ve done well in your career there and have really developed a professional network and maybe even some work friends. It’s a different life, but a good life. If you stay, you’ll keep on that path—though I would recommend taking up an artistic practice to cope. (The Three of Pentacles can be an artistic partnership, so perhaps something in a collective.)

But your heart isn’t there. It’s in the old city, and if you returned, it would be a spiritual homecoming. With the Ace of Wands, this city is one brimming with potential and inspiration. It lights the spark inside of you, gives you what the Gnostics call pneuma. It’s a place of creativity, passion, and, with the Ace of Cups, also a place of love. You love this place in all the ways you can—philla, eros, agape. It’s a place where you feel like you belong because you do. The Wands are the suit of fire, the Cups of water, and together they suggest that this is a place where you feel the most aligned. It’s also where you feel at peace.

The Wanning Crescent (a card unique to my deck, Uusi’s “Pagan Otherworlds”) is a card of simplicity and silence. It is when we are at our most natural state, without all the noise of bullshit buzzing about. It’s the serenity that comes when you are exactly where you are meant to be. It does not mean that life cannot be hard, but it does mean there is an ineffable ease that makes difficulties easier to bear.

You asked me if you could move and if you should. If you’re looking to live in a place that’s best for your soul, then yes, you should. But if it were that simple, you would have left long ago.

If you want to move, there is a cost. As the Emperor, you have the power to make this move. You possess the self-determination and sheer will (or stubbornness) to follow through on anything you want. As a leader, you are diplomatic. You do not use force or manipulation to get your way. You state your intentions and honor them. But the Emperor, as powerful as he is, can be quite lonely. He might be the only one on the path.

The Three of Cups is typically a card of friendship, which, if you still have friends in your old city, would help make the move easier. But it’s also the card of fruition and can be one of community and family. If you have a family, to bring this move to fruition, you have to get everyone on board—which may or may not happen.

The Six of Swords shows a boat crossing the river Styx. It is about crossing from one life to another, the struggle of letting go of the past to move forward. But it’s also a card of death and payment. If you want a new life, the old one has to end, and you have to pay the ferryman something. I don’t know what you would need to sacrifice to move—that career you worked so hard at, a community, a family, a safety net—but it would be something. And only you can determine if that price is too high.

It is interesting to me that the two death cards of the deck—Death and the Six of Swords—appear for either option. You will sacrifice something by staying. You will sacrifice something by leaving. There is no getting out of this scot-free. You’ll suffer somehow either way. So, the true question is: which suffering do you want to tolerate?

I can’t answer that for you. Neither can the cards. It’s something you’ll have to figure out. But both options also offer you positives. You’ll still have a good (but different) life if you stay. You’ll still have a good (but different) life if you go.

I hope that no matter what you choose, you’re able to be at peace with your decision.

Thank you for trusting me with your question.

Send your questions to oracle@cltampa.com or DM @theyboracle on Instagram. See more of Caroline and learn about her services via carolinedebruhl.com.

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