A dictonary of symbols, for deciphering meanings, and a dreamlike Borges oracle by Catalina Kobelt for finding questions.
An obsidian mirror for peering into the dark.
Uusi's Supra deck for Jungian reflection.
An enamel "he loves me, he loves me not" spinning top pendant, for protecting unwary daisies from the lovelorn.
A fortune-telling pencil sourced from a mystical machine in Des Moines that will provide a yes, no, or maybe so answer.
A Hades Wool sweater with the lyrics to Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now" for cloudy realities.
Pat Perry's risograph-printed open call for guidance for anyone seeking to be "part of a collective search for perspective in confusing times."
A 32-sided 1930s-era fortune-telling dice for more answers than you can get from a Magic-8 Ball.
Hysteric Glamour's "You Pay" keychain to end arguments over picking up the tab.
And for finding a fortune worth keeping, a bucket of cookies, plus a frame for the best one.
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I will add waaaaay down here, in an abashed moment of self-promotion, that I am the editor of a series of open-ended oracle decks written by Ellen Freeman and illustrated by Bethany van Rijswijk that are quite beautiful and interesting, if you happen to like mushrooms, flowers, seashells, fairy tales, rocks, cats, or space. Unlike tarot, these oracle decks do not offer traditional meanings, and they don't promise answers—instead, they are way to play with thoughts and ideas using imagery and scraps of myth, folklore, history, and science.
