š“ Bear Bones Tarot: Friday, May 1, 2026
Ten of Wands ā The Bundlebearer
Here there be dragons! šš²
On carrying everything to the edge of the map ā and what the dragons are actually guarding
šļø Part 1: For the Writers
The Ten of Wands is not a comfortable card.
But look at her. Really look. Sheās standing upright in her magenta robes at what feels like the very edge of the world ā the valley glowing gold behind her, the first stars pricking through the blue above. Sheās got all ten wands clutched to her chest, still leafing, still alive, still growing even as she carries them. And sheās not looking forward. Sheās not looking back.
Sheās looking sideways.
Like she heard something just out of frame. Like something caught her attention from the direction she wasnāt expecting.
Sheās at the edge of the map. And something out there just moved.
Hereās what the medieval cartographers wrote at the edges of their maps, where the known world ended and the unmapped territory began:
Here there be dragons. š²
It wasnāt a command to turn back. It was an acknowledgment. Beyond this point, we donāt know whatās out there. Beyond this point, the comfortable and familiar gives way to the wide, unmapped, genuinely unknown.
Writers live here. You probably already know that.
Every first draft is off the edge of the map. Every query letter. Every published book. Every time you decide to take the dream seriously instead of keeping it safely theoretical ā you step off the edge of the known world and into dragon territory.
And hereās what nobody tells you about that territory:
Everything you actually want is out here.
Not back there in the comfortable, mapped, familiar zone. Not in the place where the dream stays a dream because itās safer that way. Out here. In the scary part. In the āmy heart is pounding and my hands are shaking and I donāt know if this is going to workā part.
Your comfort zone, by definition, already contains everything you already have.
The things you donāt have yet ā the finished book, the launched thing, the creative life that actually sustains you ā those are sitting out here in dragon territory. Waiting. Guarded by the fear that feels like a very good reason not to go further.
Hereās the thing about that fear though.
Science ā actual, real science ā tells us that anxiety and excitement are physiologically almost identical. Same racing heart. Same heightened awareness. Same electric aliveness in the body. The physical sensation is nearly indistinguishable.
The difference is entirely in the story your brain assigns to it.
Fear: āThis feeling means danger. Turn back.ā
Excitement: āThis feeling means Iām about to do something that matters.ā
Same feeling. Two completely different stories. And your monkey-fear-brain ā bless it, itās just trying to keep you alive ā will always vote for the danger interpretation. Every single time. Without fail. Because thatās its job.
Your job is to notice that itās not the only voice in the room.
Iāve been building something lately. Something big ā for me, anyway.
Iām an old hand at building things. Almost thirty years in tech development of making things that work, that function, that solve problems. The building part doesnāt scare me. I know how to do that.
What scares me is the putting it out there part.
The moment when the thing stops being mine alone ā safe in my hands, known only to me, impossible to fail because it hasnāt been tested yet ā and becomes something the world can see and respond to.
That fear doesnāt care how long Iāve been doing this. It doesnāt care about the thirty years or the finished projects or the evidence that Iām capable. It just says: but what if this time?
And every time I feel that, I have a choice about what story I tell myself about it.
The Ten of Wands ā pulled twice in one week, which is not subtle ā isnāt just about the weight of what youāre carrying.
Itās about what youāre carrying it toward.
That bear isnāt collapsed. She isnāt walking backward. Sheās standing at the edge of the map with her arms full of living, growing, still-leafing wands, looking sideways at something that just caught her attention.
She heard the dragon.
She didnāt drop her bundle and run.
She turned toward it.
The cardās questions for your creative life:
What are you carrying toward the edge of the map right now?
Where has āIām scaredā been masquerading as āIām not ready yetā ā and whatās the actual difference?
What would it mean to tell a different story about the feeling in your chest when you think about putting the thing out there?
šæ Todayās Practical Magick
The next time you feel that electric, heart-pounding, slightly nauseating feeling about your creative work ā before you let the monkey-fear-brain write the whole definition ā try this:
Put one hand on your chest. Feel the aliveness of it.
And ask: what if this isnāt fear? What if this is just what it feels like to be standing at the edge of something that matters?
Thatās it. Thatās the whole spell.
Here there be dragons. And youāre already out here. šŗļøš»š„
š The personal pull is below ā for paid subscribers
This is where The Mojo Mama Bear gets bear-bones honest about what the card stirred up this morning ā and what it looks like to stand at the edge of the map on a cold Beltane morning with a DVT leg thatās unhappy and a dream that refuses to stay safely theoretical.
