Queen of Cups: Call Your Mother

I recently returned from a week long family vacation. My mother was gracious enough to stay at our house and watch our dog, Allie. This was not my first choice, but when the kennel was full, Mom came through for us. Allie had a wonderful week of daily walks, plenty of couch snuggles, and I’m sure extra treats. I knew my house would be spotless as my mother calms herself through cleanliness. My house is one giant stress relieving exercise for her with random piles of clutter and laundry here and there. Housekeeping is not my forte and my wonderful husband does the best he can, but it’s just not our priority.

As I expected, she worked her magic and the house was in great condition. Allie was happy to see us and it felt great to be home. My bedroom is my sanctuary, a carefully curated space of comfort. I saw signs of my mother’s presence in the piles of folded clothes and neatly made bed. My altar was also shifted. The pen on my grimoire moved. The broom on my wall faced in a different direction. I reveled in my reaction.

A year ago, I would have felt a blend of anger, shame, and disrespect. How dare she go into my bedroom and then touch my things? Did she read my grimoire? What was her reaction to the various tarot decks, witchy books, and my altars? A year ago, I was deep in the broom closet. I didn’t even acknowledge to myself that I was a witch. I was just interested in the philosophies of witchcraft, but I’m not a witch. Fast forward one year later and my mindset has shifted, been transmuted. I have less shame about who I am and that includes witchcraft. I have also actively worked to heal my matriarchal issues over the past year.

I wasn’t upset at all regarding my mother’s intrusion into my privacy. It truly has no bearing on our current relationship. She didn’t treat me any differently when I returned home. I have carried anger towards her for a very long time that I just cannot do it anymore. My very first tarot pull was about my mother. I have journaled, meditated, and completed spells about these issues. I have put in the work and I can feel it manifesting. My birth card is the Empress with the Hanged One for its teacher card. One of the lessons of the Empress is healing the nurturer wound, self-parenting. The Hanged One has taught me to look at my mother from a different perspective. Seeing her as a peer, a fellow woman, mother, head of household, victim of patriarchy.

So WTF does this have to do with the Queen of Cups? Well, for much of my life I thought my mother was a Cancer Sun as we celebrate her birthday on July 14. It was only recently that I learned her true birth date may be in May which would make her a Taurus. In the 1960s in South Korea, parents were responsible for registering their newborns with the government. My mother is one of five children, the last born daughter. It was not until a few years later when her brother was born, that my mother became a recognized Korean citizen. By that time, they did not remember the actual date of her birth and she was given July 14.

My mother does not embody the stereotypical, sensitive Cancer. Earthly, material pleasure-seeking Taurus feels more like her vibe. Her love language is knowing your shoe size so she can buy two pairs when she finds a bargain. She does surprise me though. Like when I told her my father in law was diagnosed with brain cancer and she burst into tears. Something I wanted to do, but couldn’t at the time. I would love to know her ASC. She barely knows what time of year she was born in, let alone her birth time so it is impossible to know her Rising sign. My mother reminds me of the privilege of being able to fully use the language of astrology.

Queen of Cups corresponds with Cancer and the 4th house. The 4th house is the base of the birth chart, the foundation where we plant our home roots. While my mother may not be a Cancer Sun, she is my 4th house. She is who nurtured me. She taught me how to fortify my roots in her own unique way. Sometimes leading by example means allowing others to watch you make mistakes in hopes they learn from them. I learned from my mother what not to tolerate.

I watched her manage two bad marriages with two toxic men. She worked 60+ hours per week in a shitty poultry processing facility for over 30 years. She chose the worst men to have children with. I felt the brunt of her frustrations. The reason for much of my resentment towards her. I was just a child, but so was she. She gave birth to me at age 19 in a foreign land. We navigated a new world together. We learned to speak English together. When my husband points out words I mispronounce, I remind him I was raised by someone who taught themselves English from 80s daytime TV.

Distancing myself from my mother is how I thought I wouldn’t repeat her mistakes. I would never allow another person to treat me the way my mother was treated in her marriages. I was not going to martyr myself for a corporation just so I could buy more shit. As I was trying to be a different person, my mother was the one who was still there for me. She was the one making sure I was getting what I wanted. She pushed me to go to nursing school and provided countless hours of childcare, free meals, and housekeeping. I couldn’t see all this as it was happening, but reflection has refined my memories and allowed me to rewrite it from a less angsty place.

Queen of Cups is pure water, Water + Water energy. This may seem wishy-washy, but this Queen is emotionally secure. In touch with their heart, tolerant, but not passive. Stepping outside of my personal experiences, viewing my mother from the Hanged One’s perspective, I have been able to see these qualities in her and embrace them in myself. Queen of Cups is strong and protective, but deeply comforting and compassionate. Embodying water, they are pliable, able to bend without breaking.  There is strength in vulnerability and it takes immense power to be soft and nurturing in a world that seems to value grit and toughness.

Queen of Cups is also intuitive. This Queen of Cups from Tarot of the Divine is Yemoja, a Nigerian deity of rivers and the mother of all orishas. This Queen does not anger easily, but when provoked will cause turbulent and destructive river flows. They occupy the liminal space, just below the surface within the subconscious mind. Connecting with the Queen of Cups may allow what you seek to float to the surface. Notice how this Queen covers her cup. This Queen wants you to honor your boundaries, but be gentle with yourself and others.

Cups are also about creativity. In the Brady Tarot, Cups are Horns and the Mother of Horns corresponds with the Queen of Cups. Deck artist Emi Brady refers to this card as the “patron saint” of the artist. This colorful bird is surrounded by tools of the artist. The cups hold colored pigments next to an antler of paint brushes and a carving tool. The bird holds a flute carved in the style of the Seminole people “who have woven music and art into the very fabric of their culture” writes Rachel Pollack. This card is about filling your cup with expressiveness, inspiration, and artistry.

I can remember so many times my mother said, “I knew it! I knew something was going on!” All the times she whipped me up a delicious meal out of a thin pantry. We were poor as fuck, but I never went without new school clothes. She sparked with intuition and creativity, but a wounded daughter does not see that in their mother, nor does she appreciate it. Deconstructing my bias about my mother this past year has given me clarity and moved me past the inflammation stage of healing. I am moving into my proliferative phase, reconstructing the matrix of our relationship. Striving to integrate the Queen of Cups.