đ´ Bear Bones Tarot: Sunday, March 29, 2026
The Tower â The Bear Who Reached Toward the Lightning
On the cards that scare us, the structures that needed to fall, and why turning on the lights in a messy room is an act of profound courage.
đď¸ Part 1: For the Writers
Look at this card for a moment.
Really look at it.
That bear is not running. That bear is not cowering behind a rock, cloak pulled over their face, waiting for the lightning to finish doing whatever lightning does and leave them alone.
That bear is reaching toward it.
Purple robes billowing. Paw extended. Standing on elevated ground they already climbed â before the storm hit, before the Tower started crackling with that impossible magenta light â and facing the whole magnificent, terrifying, electric thing head-on.
This is not the Tower most of us learned.
The Tower most of us learned has people falling out of it. Flames. Chaos. The crown knocked clean off the top by a bolt from the sky. Itâs the card that makes even seasoned tarot readers go âoh. oh no.â when it lands face-up on the table.
And listen â Iâm not going to tell you The Tower is secretly a fun card.
Itâs not a fun card.
But I want to talk about what it actually destroys. Because itâs not what most of us think.
The Tower doesnât destroy whatâs real. It destroys what was pretending to be real.
The false foundation. The inflated story. The structure you built on âIâll deal with that laterâ and âif I just donât look at it directly it canât hurt meâ and âI know itâs not great but Iâm not ready to know exactly how not-great it is.â
The Tower is lightning-as-honesty. Sudden, bright, and absolutely non-negotiable.
For writers â and I mean this in the most specific, practical, unglamorous way â The Tower shows up most often not in the dramatic moments. Not in the âI lost everythingâ moments. It shows up in the quiet Sunday morning moment when you finally open the spreadsheet you havenât opened in four months and you look at the actual numbers.
The royalty statements. The subscriber counts. The revenue versus the goal.
The Tower is the moment you stop performing âIâm fine, itâs fine, everything is fineâ and you sit down with whatâs actually, factually, measurably true.
That moment is terrifying for exactly one reason: we have confused knowing the truth with the truth being our fault.
We think if we look at the number and the number is bad, it means we are bad. We are failing. We are behind. We are not enough. The Tower falling is proof that we never deserved the Tower in the first place.
But thatâs not what lightning does.
Lightning doesnât judge. Lightning illuminates.
The number is just a number. Itâs a coordinate. Itâs a âyou are hereâ pin on the map of your creative life. And you cannot navigate toward where youâre going without knowing, clearly and honestly, where youâre starting from.
The bear in this card isnât reaching toward the Tower because theyâre not afraid.
Theyâre reaching toward it because itâs the only way through.
Where in your creative life have you been avoiding the lightning? What number, what metric, what honest look at the current reality have you been circling around â telling yourself youâll check it when things are better, when you feel stronger, when the timing is right?
What would it mean to reach toward it anyway? Not because youâre fearless. But because youâre the kind of bear who faces things.
đż Todayâs Practical Magick:
Before you open whatever it is youâve been avoiding â the inbox, the dashboard, the draft, the bank account, the subscriber count â place one hand on your chest, take one breath, and say:
âThis is data. This is a starting point. This is the ground Iâm building from.â
Thatâs the spell. Thatâs the whole spell. đźđž
đ The personal pull is below â for paid subscribers
This is where The Mojo Mama Bear gets âbear bonesâ about what the card stirred up this morning and what it looks like in a real, unglamorous, unsexy day in the life of a working author.
