🎴 Bear Bones Tarot: Wednesday, April 29, 2026
Ten of Wands — She's Still Moving
On carrying more than your share — and what the bear knows about bundles, sunsets, and the things that are still alive in your arms.
🖊️ Part 1: For the Writers
The Ten of Wands is not a card about breaking. It’s a card about bearing.
(sorry… I had to — yes, I do have that exact type of silly/punny humor LMAO) 😆
Look at her. She’s standing on a hillside at the edge of dusk — the sky behind her is on fire with gold and amber and the last bleeding breath of sunset. Stars are already appearing overhead. Pink wildflowers push up through the grass at her feet, unbothered and soft. And she is wrapped in her deep magenta robe, arms full of ten wands — all of them, every single one — bundled tight against her chest.
She’s not on the ground. She’s not crying. She’s not even looking at the sky she’s missing.
She is moving.
The wands she carries are still sprouting leaves. Did you catch that? Even under all that weight, even gripped this tightly, they are still alive. Still growing. The things you’ve been carrying haven’t died. They’ve just been waiting for you to set them down somewhere good.
The bundle isn’t the problem. Carrying it alone, forever, is.
Here’s what the Ten of Wands knows about the creative life — and specifically, about writer life:
We are extraordinary collectors of wands.
We pick up the story idea. We pick up the marketing plan. We pick up the newsletter, the back catalog, the social media, the formatting, the cover decisions, the launch strategy, the reader emails, the comparison spirals, the imposter syndrome, the “I should be further along by now.” We pick up the responsibilities of everyone around us while we’re at it, because that’s what capable people do. We pick up and we pick up and we pick up, and somewhere in the middle of all that carrying, we forget to ask: does this one belong to me?
The Ten of Wands shows up for writers at a very particular moment. Not at the beginning, when the energy is fresh and the wands feel light. Not at the end, when they’re finally set down. It shows up in the middle — when you are close enough to smell the finish line, tired enough to question everything, and stubborn enough to keep going anyway.
That’s you, isn’t it? Right in the thick of it.
The card isn’t asking you to drop everything and walk away. The bear isn’t abandoning her bundle. But she is being asked — gently, from the wildflowers, from the stars just beginning to appear — to look up for a moment. To notice the sunset. To ask, honestly: which of these wands are actually mine to carry, and which ones did I just pick up because no one else would?
Because here’s the thing about burdens that no one tells you: some of them aren’t burdens at all. Some of them are your purpose — just compressed and squeezed into an uncomfortable shape because you’re holding too many things at once to let any of them breathe.
Set one down. Just one. See what it feels like.
The sunset has been happening this whole time. It’s still happening right now.
Where in your creative life have you been carrying something that was never actually yours to hold?
What would it feel like to set one wand down gently — not in defeat, but in discernment?
What in your arms is still sprouting leaves, still alive, still worth carrying — and what has quietly gone dry?
🌿 Today’s Practical Magick
The next time the “I should be doing more” voice shows up — and it will — try this before you pick up another wand:
Put both hands on the bundle you’re already holding. Take one breath in. Ask quietly: Is this one mine?
That’s the whole spell. Discernment over accumulation. 🪵🐾
🔒 The personal pull is below — for paid subscribers
This is where The Mojo Mama Bear gets bear-bones honest about what the card stirred up this morning and what it looks like in a real, unglamorous, beautifully chaotic Wednesday in the life of a working author building her dream one wand at a time.
