Field Note No. 4 — The Hanged One, or: The Card That Would Not Look Upright

Specimen: Tarot Major Arcana XII
Subject: A bat suspended in inversion, not as punishment, but as native posture.

This was supposed to be a man. I had sketched a human form, obedient to twelve centuries of tarot inheritance — rope, tree, sacrifice, enlightenment-by-neck-strain.

Instead, a bat arrived.

Not a symbol of hanging, but a creature for whom insight is formed in darkness, not action.

The moment the wings closed around the body, the entire logic of the card collapsed — and reassembled.

The bat enters inversion deliberately. Not martyrdom – this is chosen estrangement from the obvious; it is alert without engagement.

What This Means for Beneath the Mind

This tarot invites you into retreat, rest, and reassessment. Maybe all you need is the perspective that can only be gained by pulling back into yourself for a while.

Meditative prompt: what if nothing is wrong – your nervous system is simply asking to rest.


Filed under:
Field Notes → Memory / Anatomy / Disobedient Artifacts

Field Note No. 01 — On Returning to the Work

Every creative cycle has a quiet beginning — not a flash of inspiration, but a pause. When the noise of the day fades, I start to notice the materials again: the weight of the paper, the drag of the pen, the way graphite leaves a trace like breath on glass.

Lately I’ve been drawing without an agenda, just following lines to see where they lead. A curve becomes an antler, a mark starts to suggest motion, and soon there’s a form I didn’t intend but somehow recognize. The best work always arrives that way — when the hand is busy and the mind has stopped narrating.

The studio feels like a conversation between attention and accident. There are half-finished prints drying by the window, sketches of Vale’s instruments on the desk, a page from the Astral Cabinet pinned to the wall. Each reminds me that returning to the work isn’t about starting over — it’s about re-entering the dialogue.