Earth of Earth.
Traditionally a maidenly foundation of fertility, but we look to the stars. Exploding out of the planet to seed another, or falling blissfully down into it? A dryad, an elemental on the brink of enlightenment, her bark face is twisted in delight. She’s lost something of her individuality in this planetary wholeness, if she ever had it; she’s lost in her journey, in whichever way she’s falling.
The flowers in her hair look like fire – sparks flowing out from the wood of herself from the finely-fractal kindling of her hair. What ideas is she fertile soil for? What strange magic could you produce from a new, alien shell? Rebirth.
There’s a respect here for the mother Earth, from its star-tossed child. How would she deal with your current situation? Would she advocate the situation that’s kindest to the weary planet that spawned her? Plant a tree for this seed-pod; she won’t be coming back any time soon. (Or are those flowers in her hair the first sparks of fire from her atmospheric re-entry? Is that planet really Earth, anyway?)
Perhaps she falls eagerly back into the embrace of other people. Falling and burning into the World as the stars fall out of her hair.
The story of this card hinges on one crucial question: is her hair blown before her face by the force that sends her flying, or is she falling all the way back down? Turn it ninety degrees to the left and view it as part of the Void – has your answer changed? For, despite all its doubly-earthy solidity, this card is where the earthly Court invertsinto that of the (VOID).
So what’s – or rather *who’s* – at the root of your current problem? You’re looking at them, right here.