10. SPINNER (Fortune)
“Wheel obeys the one who owns it.
Fortune follows focus.”
Wheel of Fortune Reversed
(Scroll past lyrics to read about the song)
Intro
Funeral keeps turning.
This is the eulogy of Spinner.
Good with odds.
Bad with endings.
Spinner is me.
Verse
Say I trust the universe.
But I don’t even trust myself.
Anticipation feeds the spin.
Gamble with direction —
then hate the ending.
Multitasking mimics mastery.
Ghost says:
“What if I pick wrong?”
I need a sign.
If fate spins it,
I stay blameless.
Crow says:
Choice aligns the current.
You’re the signal.
The fall recalibrates.
Pre-Chorus
I like the maybe before meaning.
I like the rush before landing.
Spinner is me.
Chorus
Spinner —
Spin reflects my aimless aim.
Spinner —
Wheel keeps turning, I keep safe.
Spinner —
The wheel asks for a hand.
Spinner.
Bridge
Commitment bores the ghost.
Savor the build of desire.
Stall at the edge of form.
Palm floats above the lever.
Ghost says:
“Later is better.”
Pre-Chorus
I like the maybe before meaning.
I like the rush before landing.
Spinner is me.
Chorus
Spinner —
Spin reflects my aimless aim.
Spinner —
Wheel keeps turning, I keep safe.
Spinner —
The wheel asks for a hand.
Spinner.
Outro
Wheel obeys the one who owns it.
Fortune follows focus.
Desire circles.
I circle with it.
The palm waits.
Card & Ghost
Tarot Card: The Wheel of Fortune (Reversed)
Thoth Name: Fortune
My Ghost: Spinner
Zodiac/Planet: Jupiter
Jupiter energy expands everything it touches. The Wheel of Fortune turns through cycles of rise and fall —
but Spinner spins to avoid the weight of choosing.
Hebrew Letter: Kaph (כ) — palm, hollow of the hand
Path: 21
What It Means Reversed:
Spinning in patterns isn't fate — it's flinching with flair.
About the Song
Spinner is the ghost who confuses motion with mission. She chases signs before steps. She calls avoidance "alignment." She lets the wheel decide so her hands stay clean. Every new chapter feels like progress. Every reinvention feels like growth. But the wheel keeps turning because she never places a hand on it.
I know this ghost. I feel her in the rush before a decision, the thrill of maybe, the relief when fate takes the blame. I feel her in the projects I start and abandon, in the plans I announce and never follow, in the "I'll let the universe decide" that really means "I don't want to be responsible for the outcome."
This song is the moment the wheel asks for a hand.
Crow says: "You let the wheel decide so you'd never have to answer for the landing."
What This Ghost Is
Spinner is the version of me who worships motion and avoids choice. She believes that if she keeps moving, she never has to land. She calls it flow, surrender, alignment with the divine. But underneath, she fears the weight of authorship.
Her core wound: stillness asks questions she doesn't want to answer. Her survival strategy: stay in motion, stay in maybe, stay in the exhilarating space before commitment.
In daily life, Spinner:
Announces a new chapter every few months, then pivots before the chapter ends
Reads signs into everything — a song, a feather, a random number — and calls it guidance
Says "I'll let the universe decide" when facing a hard choice
Starts projects with fireworks, drops them when maintenance gets boring
Placing a hand on the wheel means choosing. Not waiting for a sign. Not letting fate decide. Just picking one direction and living with the outcome. It means saying "I want this food" instead of "I don't care." Finishing a project instead of starting a new one. Staying in a conversation when the urge to disappear rises. Accepting that closing some doors is how you actually walk through others.
Spinner keeps both hands off. She stays in maybe. She stays flexible, adaptable, open — and also never arrives.
She is not lazy. She is addicted to potential. The wheel turns because the hand stays open. The palm never grips.
A ghost is not the one who hurt me. It's the self that flinched and stayed. Who I became to survive. A decision loop dressed in praise. Spinner was never the wound — she was the shape I took to avoid choosing.
Where It Lives in the Body
Spinner leaves traces. If I let her spin unchecked, my liver carries the heat of every unfinished cycle. Louise Hay links liver issues to chronic anger and resentment — the emotion that stagnates when patterns repeat without resolution. Left alone, Spinner invites that stagnation. The liver swells with what never completes.
She seeds chaos in my hormones. Cycles of surge and crash become the body's default rhythm. Energy spikes, then bottoms out. The endocrine system learns her logic: intensity proves aliveness, stillness feels like threat. Over time, the body forgets steadiness.
She courts accidents. Sprains, falls, near-misses. A body that moves faster than awareness collects impact. John Sarno's TMS work frames accidents as the body's intervention — when the mind refuses to slow, the body creates a stop. Spinner courts that intervention. The ground teaches what speed ignores.
If I never grip the wheel, my liver can store the rage. My hormones mirror the spin. My body collects bruises as lessons. Spinner left alone becomes injury, inflammation, exhaustion.
Crow says: "You never lost control. You just never took it."
The Imbalanced Spinner (Reversed)
If the Wheel upright accepts cycles as part of growth, Spinner uses cycles to avoid growth. Motion replaces decision. Fate becomes a costume for fear.
Belief patterns of Spinner:
"If I never choose, I never lose."
"The universe will handle it."
"I need a sign before I act."
"Everything happens for a reason."
"I trust the flow" — while secretly trusting nothing.
Somatic / TMS correlations:
Liver — tension, stagnation, heat
Louise Hay lens: Repressed anger that never completes its cycle. The body holds what the ghost won't release.Hormones — irregular cycles, mood swings, energy crashes
TMS lens: The endocrine system mirrors the ghost's rhythm — surge, collapse, surge, collapse.Accidents — falls, sprains, near-misses, head impacts
Ozanich lens: The body intervenes when awareness lags. Impact forces presence.Heart — palpitations, racing at rest
Lens: The heart keeps pace with anticipation, not arrival. Adrenaline replaces ease.Adrenals — fatigue after highs, wired-tired state
Lens: The body runs on stress chemistry because stillness feels unsafe.
When Spinner shows up for me:
I notice my calendar full of beginnings and empty of completions. I feel the thrill of a new idea, then the drop when it's time to execute. I catch myself saying "I'll let the universe decide" and realize I mean "I don't want to be responsible." I scroll for signs instead of sitting with the question.
The fix isn't more motion. It's one grip.
One choice. One follow-through. One moment of letting the wheel stop so I can feel where I actually stand.
Crow says: "The universe doesn't need your permission to turn. It needs your hand to choose."
Tarot & Magick: The Wheel of Fortune Reversed
In Crowley's Thoth system, the Wheel of Fortune is attributed to the Hebrew letter Kaph — the palm of the hand, the hollow where weight meets leverage. Jupiter rules this gate: expansion, excess, luck, risk. The card depicts the universe in motion — the Sphinx at the summit, Hermanubis climbing, Typhon falling. The wheel turns through rise, peak, and descent. Life cycles.
Upright, the Wheel teaches that change is constant, that fortune favors the prepared hand, that the axle stays still while the rim spins.
Reversed, the wheel becomes a cage. Motion without direction. Fate used as an alibi. The palm stays open; the lever never moves. Jupiter swells into gluttony — expansion without containment, luck without accountability. The Sphinx drops her sword. Hermanubis chatters without wisdom. Typhon falls for the thrill of falling.
The ghost believes the wheel runs everything. The truth: the wheel obeys the hand.
Correspondences (from my study notes):
Hebrew letter: Kaph (כ) — palm, hollow of the hand, container
Planet: Jupiter — expansion, luck, risk, excess
Element: Fire — impulse, transformation, heat
Traditional Animal: The Sphinx, Hermanubis, Typhon — forces of rise, climb, and fall
My Chosen Animal: The baboon — sharp, impulsive, loud, always moving, always grasping
Crow says: "The wheel loves attention. Direction loves pressure."
Why This Song Belongs Here
The Hermit held the seed in a closed fist. Power stored. Voice withheld. The hand learned to guard instead of give.
Withdrawn opened the hand. The seed left the pocket. Visibility entered the room. The lamp faced outward.
Now Spinner inherits the open palm — but refuses to close it.
The hand stays flat. The wheel spins through her fingers. She feels the motion, tastes the rush, watches the cycles turn. But she never grips. She never places weight on the lever. She calls it trust, flow, alignment with the universe. The wheel calls it abdication.
After Withdrawn — who learned to stop hiding — comes Spinner. Withdrawn faced the cost of isolation. Spinner faces the cost of refusing to choose.
The first ghosts built walls. Bender straightened the spine. Withdrawn opened the hand. Spinner learns that an open palm without grip is just drift. Motion without choice is just spinning in place.
What comes next is Indulger — the ghost who numbs with appetite. But you can't understand Indulger until you stop spinning long enough to feel what you're avoiding.
What This Song Is
This song does not praise the wheel. It shows what happens when the wheel becomes a master instead of a tool.
It asks one question: Are you flowing, or are you fleeing?
It teaches that cycles continue until choice interrupts them. That fate sounds convincing when fear holds the mic. That the hand was never meant to stay open.
Crow says: "Luck keeps you busy. Choice keeps you fed."
What I Learned
Spinner taught me that I don't need another sign. I need a direction. That the wheel will keep turning forever if I let it. That the palm exists to grip.
I learned that motion is not the same as progress. That "letting the universe decide" is sometimes just a prettier way to say "I don't want to be responsible." That the fall recalibrates when speed outruns awareness.
When Spinner Shows Up
I know Spinner is active when I catch myself waiting for a sign instead of making a choice. When I blame timing, fate, or "the universe" for outcomes I could influence. When I keep my hands off the wheel so nothing ever lands on me.
I check for:
Where am I letting fate decide instead of choosing?
What pattern keeps spinning because I won't end it?
What would happen if I gripped the wheel and stopped the spin?
What I've learned from others:
Crowley: "Sped by its energies triune, the Wheel of Fortune spins: its Axle's immobile." The center stays still. The axle is choice.
Lon Milo DuQuette: The Wheel is not about luck — it's about the illusion of external control. I worship the rim and ignore the axle.
Carl Jung: The psyche repeats patterns until the shadow receives conscious contact. I spin to avoid meeting what's underneath.
Louise Hay: The liver stores unprocessed anger. Cycles continue because the emotion never completes. My heat is rage with nowhere to go.
John Sarno (TMS): Accidents are the body's intervention. I crash because speed outruns awareness.
Questions I ask myself:
Am I flowing, or am I fleeing?
What would I choose if I stopped waiting for a sign?
Where does this cycle end if I decide today?Blessing
May the wheel ask for your hand, not just your attention.
May you stop reading signs and start making choices.
May one grip replace a thousand spins.
May you land where motion meets meaning.
May the fall teach you, and the grip hold you.
A little crow's on the wire, keeping watch over you. 🐦⬛
A Note from My Study
I'm still learning. I don't have this down. I'm still living in the gap, still trying to become more like the music I write. I write for myself — so I can study, so I can hear the direction I want to go.
I'm working from Aleister Crowley's Thoth Tarot, the deck that became my study guide for this album. The correspondences (Hebrew letters, paths, planets) come from that tradition. These notes are just what I've gathered. If they help someone else, that's a gift. If not, they're just breadcrumbs from my own walk.
Spinner taught me that the wheel was never the master. The hand was always the lever. Now I'm learning to grip.
— Thank you for witnessing.
Loui Crow
