2 Suitcases and 6 Cans of Chicken Noodle Soup
<p>I am really the queen of moving through life and sometimes only having a prayer to my name. I literally picked up my two suitcases, my six cans of chicken noodle soup, and hopped on a plane to Texas—booked a one-way ticket—and didn’t look back.</p><p>I didn’t have a master plan. I didn’t have every detail ironed out. What I had was excitement. Possibility. A feeling in my body that said <em>this matters</em>, even though I couldn’t fully articulate why yet. And that—right there—is the essence of the Fool’s Journey.</p><p>The Fool is fresh. Green. Innocent in the way only someone standing at the beginning of something can be. There’s an electricity to that stage—a kind of sacred anticipation—where you feel keyed up, alive, awake to what <em>might</em> be. You don’t yet know the terrain. You don’t know the obstacles. You don’t even know the full cost. All you know is that something is calling you forward, and for once, fear hasn’t caught up to you yet.</p><p>To me, the loudest word in the Fool’s Journey is <strong>possibility</strong>.</p><p>This is the moment before everyone else’s fears get projected onto you. Before people start asking <em>what if it doesn’t work</em> or <em>what’s your backup plan</em> or <em>are you sure you thought this through</em>. This is the stage where you’re traveling light—emotionally, spiritually, energetically. You’re not dragging everyone else’s expectations behind you. You’re not carrying shame or over-explaining your choices. You’re trusting that God has your back. That your spirit team is walking with you. That your ancestors aren’t about to let you fall without a net.</p><p>And what makes this phase so precious is that you <em>know</em> you’re taking a leap of faith—but the fear hasn’t clouded your judgment yet.</p><p>Maybe you jumped because you chose to. Maybe you jumped because life pushed you. Either way, once you’re in the air, there’s a strange kind of freedom. Excitement mixes with surrender. Curiosity overrides dread. You’re out there now. And something in you believes—if only quietly—that you’ll be met.</p><p><strong>What I know now, though—what hindsight has taught me—is that the Fool does best when they are selective about who they are in conversation with during this phase.</strong></p><p>Not silent. Not isolated. But intentional.</p><p>The Fool still needs communication—but with the <em>right</em> parties. Spirit first. Always. And then only the essential people who actually have a role in helping the vision take form. For me, that meant conversations with my manager—because I needed to explore whether a transfer was possible. That was an essential relationship. A practical one. A grounded one.</p><p>What I would do differently is not invite everyone else into the idea too early.</p><p>I wouldn’t immediately tell all my friends. I wouldn’t immediately tell my family.I wouldn’t open the door to every fear, every doubt, every projection dressed up as “concern.” I would let the idea incubate.</p><p>I would stay excited. I would stay in communion with my spirit team. I would shore up the plan. Commit internally. Decide—<em>this is happening</em>. No negotiations.</p><p>Because what I learned is that people don’t just hear your dreams—they lay their anxieties on top of them. Their limitations. Their unhealed disappointments. Their need for certainty. And if you’re not grounded yet, those fears can feel like wisdom when they’re really just noise.</p><p>The Fool’s innocence doesn’t mean recklessness. It means <em>uncontaminated belief</em>.</p><p>Once the decision is rooted—once the alignment is clear—<em>then</em> you share. When things are already set in motion. When the foundation is firm enough to withstand outside opinion. When you’re no longer asking <em>can I?</em> but declaring <em>I am</em>.</p><p>Of course, after this stage, the fears come. That’s inevitable.</p><p>Doubt. Scarcity. Old wounds. The voice that says <em>who do you think you are?</em> The fear that says <em>this was a mistake</em>. The anxiety that wants certainty where there was once trust. And the rest of the Fool’s Journey—the Magician, the High Priestess, the lessons that follow—is about learning how those fears can either become teachers or saboteurs. How we cultivate discernment instead of paralysis. Faith instead of self-betrayal.</p><p>This is why I love tarot. Why I love numerology. Why I love spiritual frameworks. Not because they predict the future—but because they give us <strong>language</strong> for the human experience.</p><p>I genuinely feel for people who don’t have spirituality, who don’t have faith in something bigger than themselves. Because when you don’t, everything that happens to you sits squarely on your shoulders. Every loss. Every failure. Every disruption. You’re not collaborating with your higher self. You’re not in relationship with God, your ancestors, your spirit team. You’re carrying it all alone—and we were never meant to live that way.</p><p>I believe these tools exist so we can remember we are not isolated actors in a chaotic world. We are participants in a larger unfolding. Co-creators. Humans learning in partnership with something divine.</p><p>And I hope—through these stories, through these lessons, through the spiritual tools I’ve cultivated—that I can help you find language of your own. Language that helps you cope. Language that helps you make meaning. Language that reminds you that being human is <em>hard</em>—and that you’re not weak for needing support while doing it.</p><p>I believe in reincarnation. And sometimes I truly think that before we come back, we forget how intense this assignment is. Especially here. Especially in the United States. I’m not even going to hold you—this place is its own special brand of bullshit. Everywhere has its challenges, but the pressure, the pace, the extraction, the way survival is dressed up as success? It’s a lot.</p><p>Which is why having something to lean on matters. Frameworks matter. Faith matters. Story matters.</p><p>This platform exists to offer those things—through spirituality, through reflection, through truth-telling—<em>while centering Black women</em>, whose lives so often require both resilience and imagination just to stay whole.</p><p>The Fool reminds us of who we are before fear teaches us to shrink. Before we learn to overpack. Before we forget that sometimes, all you really need is a prayer, a little courage, and the wisdom to guard your vision until it’s ready to be seen.</p><p>And really—that’s enough to begin.</p><p>By Saturday, I’ll be offering another reflection on the Fool—going deeper into the planetary influences, elemental wisdom, and chakra energies that surround this archetype and guide us through this stage of the journey.</p><p>✨ <strong>Birthday Offering</strong> ✨In honor of my birthday, I’m offering <strong>29% off</strong> my <strong>Dragged & Divine Readings</strong> <em>(normally $150)</em> through <strong>12/31 at midnight</strong>. Each reading begins with a <strong>recorded audio reading</strong>, and then we connect for a <strong>live virtual integration session</strong> to help you integrate what came through. If you feel called, <strong>DM or Email me</strong> for details.</p><p>Subscribe to us on <a target="_blank" href="https://substack.com/@themediocreblackwoman">Substack</a> or at <a target="_blank" href="https://themediocreblackwoman.com/">themediocreblackwoman.com </a></p><p>xoxo,</p><p>Goddess Theadora</p> <br/><br/>This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit <a href="https://themediocreblackwoman.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2">themediocreblackwoman.substack.com/subscribe</a>
