WINDOW

Crow would probably just mutter:
“Set design was always yours.”
And then peck the glass.

Gate II — Heh (Window)

(Scroll past lyrics to read about the song)

The window doesn't chase the sky. It lets the sky pass by.

[INTRO ]

we've been walking…
naming ghosts,
burying what kept you alive.
Now slow down —
Look at a window —
this gate is glass —
Heh—
—
[VERSE 1]
Crow says:
Confidence left
when danger stayed.
Trust packed light
and learned delay.
Play went quiet
to keep the peace.
Rest wore armor
and stayed on leash.
Fire taught you.
Burned what it could —
Now sky drops leftovers
like it said it would —
Window grieves the past.
We look, then we pass
—
[PRE-CHORUS]
Heh is breath fire leaves behind.
A steady star in open sky —
Heh is staying with the feeling
without turning it into meaning —
Fire finishes speaking.
Window offers mercy.
—
[CHORUS]
window—
raining fire, water on ash.
window—
raining fire, watch it pass.
window shows
what's left to see.
what survived
rests with me.
—
[BRIDGE]
Say to your ghost—
Thank you for the defense —
Thank you for standing ready—
through the waiting and pain—
Window is clear—
I'm good from here—
—
[CHORUS]
—
[OUTRO]
Crow says:
Heat releases.
Window witnesses.
Stars remain.
They wait.
Stay by the window today
When you're ready—
we'll straighten what bends.
Everything evens out.

Gate II — Heh (Window)

Gate: Heh — The Eulogy / Breath / Witness
Hebrew Letter: Heh (ה) — window, breath, "the"
Path: 12 (Chokmah to Binah)
Element: Water
Court Card: Queen of Cups
Suit: Cups
Role: The container — how I hold it

What This Gate Does:

Heh is the pause after the cut. Not hesitation — witness. Yod named the wound. Heh sits with it. Water over ash. Fire already spoke. Now the window stays open long enough for the feeling to land.

This gate teaches: you don't fix grief. You let it pass through the glass.

About the Song

I built this gate to learn what Heh means. Yod was the spark — the incision, the naming, the "dot that said go." But after the cut, something else is required. Not more action. Not more will. Just... staying.

Heh is the window. The opening in the wall. The breath after the name.

I learned about Heh from Crowley — his swap of the tarot cards, his insistence that Heh belongs to The Star, not The Emperor. I never understood why until I wrote this album. After the fire, after the ash, after the burn... of course the Star comes next. You don't get thunder after the blaze. You get night. You get stars. You get a window to watch them through.

This song released on March 5. That's my son's birthday. The day everything changed. The day I went through. Truman's gematria is 305. Which is also the day he was born. My husband and I watched The Truman Show 305 times while I was pregnant — bed-ridden, sick, cut off from the world, one downloaded movie on loop. No wifi. A woman in a contained world watching a man in a contained world, waiting for the door. Our mantra during birth: "The only way out is through."

That's Heh. That's this gate. Through the sickness. Through the contraction. Through the painted sky. You don't bypass. You go through. And on the other side, a window opens.

Crow pecks the glass. You look up. That's the gate.

The peck is the interruption — the small sharp truth that breaks the trance. Looking up is the choice to witness instead of perform. And that moment — the shift from running to receiving — is the gate itself. Not a place you arrive. A way you see.

What This Gate Is

Heh is the fifth letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Numerical value: 5. It appears twice in the Tetragrammaton — the sacred name YHVH. The first Heh is the Mother (Binah), the creative intellectual force. The second Heh is the Daughter (Malkuth), the physical manifestation. Crowley's work was about raising the Daughter to the throne of the Mother — reuniting what was divided.

In plain Crow: the window doesn't chase the sky. It lets the sky pass by.

Heh functions as a prefix meaning "the." It points and says this one. Not every moment. This moment. Raining fire everywhere — Heh says: here.

The letter itself has a small gap in the top-left corner. Mystics call it a gateway for repentance, a window for divine light to enter. It's the opening in the wall that lets you see what's true without having to touch it.

Crow says: "Hay is staying with the feeling without turning it into meaning."

This gate doesn't ask for action. It asks for presence. For the courage to stand at the glass and watch what falls. For the mercy of not fixing what's already finished.

Where It Lives in the Body

Heh lives behind my eyes.

Not the surface — the depth behind them. The soft space where light becomes signal. When I'm present, that space feels open. Wide. Receiving. When I'm not, it feels like a drawn curtain — protective, but dim.

This gate asks me to look. Not to analyze. Not to interpret. Just to let the world in without bracing against it.

When I first started practicing this gate, I noticed how often I look away. How my gaze darts to the edge of things, to exits, to what might go wrong. Heh invites me to rest my eyes on what's actually here. On the ash. On the rain. On the window itself.

Louise Hay says eye problems often come from a refusal to see — from not wanting to look at something painful. TMS says the eyes can be a distraction mechanism, keeping you focused on the physical (blurry vision, eye strain, floaters) so you don't have to feel the emotional.

When I stay by the window — really stay, with soft eyes and an open gaze — the tension behind my orbits releases. The world doesn't blur. It clarifies.

Crow says: "Heh is the gaze that stops scanning and starts receiving."

The Imbalanced Window (Heh Reversed)

If Heh upright is the witness — open, receiving, merciful — then Heh reversed is the guarded gaze. The one who looks but doesn't let anything in. The one who stands at the window with the blinds half-closed.

Belief patterns of the imbalanced Heh:

• "If I look too closely, I'll see something I can't handle."

• "Keeping my eyes busy keeps my heart safe."

• "I don't have time to just watch. I need to do something."

• "Feeling it fully will break me."

• "The window is just glass. It doesn't help."

• "I'd rather keep moving than risk getting stuck in grief."

Somatic / TMS correlations:

Eyes — strain, blurred vision, floaters, tension behind orbits
Louise Hay / Ozanich lens: "I don't want to see what's right in front of me." The body blurs the world to soften the truth.

Temples — pressure, headaches
Lens: Guarding against insight. The mind's resistance to receiving.

Neck — stiffness, restricted turning
Lens: Reluctance to look over your shoulder or change your perspective.

Sinuses — congestion, pressure
Lens: Holding back tears or emotional release. The window is fogged from the inside.

Throat — tightness, hoarseness
Lens: Heh is breath — the sound of "Hay." A blocked throat means the breath of witness can't complete.

When Heh reversed shows up for me:

I might notice I'm scrolling instead of sitting. Cleaning instead of crying. Looking at my phone instead of out the window. My eyes feel tired, not from use — from avoidance. The world is safe now, but my gaze still acts like danger is around every corner.

The fix isn't effort. It's permission.
To look. To soften. To let the rain land on the glass without commenting on it.

Crow says: "You don't have to fix the view. You just have to stop ignoring it."

Why This Gate Belongs Here

After Yod — the incision, the naming, the spark — comes Heh. The cut needs air to heal. The wound needs witnessing, not more work.

Yod was the King of Wands: fire, action, initiation. Heh is the Queen of Cups: water, containment, depth. The first four ghosts (Hesitator, Deflector, Escapist, Smotherer) were buried. Yod turned the funeral from description to ritual. Heh lets the weight of that work land.

Without Heh, the album would rush from cut to cut, never pausing to feel what was lost. Heh is the mercy between the blades.

After Heh comes Bender (Adjustment / Justice) — the ghost of ongoing self-distortion, the habit of bending that survived long after it stopped being necessary. But you can't understand Bender until you grieve what made you bend. Heh grieves the past. Bender reveals the habit that grief created.

Crow says: "Window grieves the past. We look, then we pass."

The Court Cards — Queen of Cups

I never understood the court cards until I started writing the gates. They're not people. They're phases of action. I'm still trying to understand this — these notes are for myself so I can refer back, study, grow more. I'm only just beginning to grasp it.

Yod — King — Wands — Fire
The spark — where it begins. Thought becomes thing. The seed is released. (Gate I)

Heh — Queen — Cups — Water
The container — how I hold it. Feeling becomes form. The vessel receives. The Queen doesn't rush. She holds space for what needs to be felt. That's Heh. (Gate II)

Vav — Prince — Swords — Air
The connection — how I move through it. Word becomes deed. The bridge is crossed. (Gate III)

Heh final — Princess — Pentacles — Earth
The manifestation — where it lands. Deed becomes life. The ground holds. (Gate IV)

I'm still learning how to let each one move through me.

How I Will Use This Gate in My Own Readings

When I pull a card for Heh (or when I pause at this gate), I can ask myself:

• What have I been trying to fix instead of feel?

• Where am I rushing past the grief to get to the "lesson"?

• Can I stay by the window long enough for the weather to finish?

• What would it feel like to hold without tightening?

A YHVH Spread Example

The YHVH spread is a four‑card layout I use when I want to look at a situation from four angles. Each position matches one of the four letters in the Hebrew name YHVH, and each also lines up with a court card, a suit, and an element. I never understood this until I started writing the album — it finally clicked when I could feel it in the songs. I'm still learning, so these notes are mostly for myself.

How to lay out the spread:
Shuffle your deck. Pull four cards. Lay them in a row from left to right.
Position 1 = Yod (spark). Position 2 = Heh (container). Position 3 = Vav (connection). Position 4 = Heh final (manifestation).

Here's the simple map I keep in my journal:

1. Yod — King — Wands — Fire
   The spark — where it begins

2. Heh — Queen — Cups — Water
   The container — how I hold it

3. Vav — Prince — Swords — Air
   The connection — how I move through it

4. Heh final — Princess — Pentacles — Earth
   The manifestation — where it lands

If I pull a card for Heh in this spread, here's what it might look like:

(Remember: I’m not pulling a card "for Heh." I’m pulling four cards. The second card tells you about the Heh position — the container, how I’m holding the situation.)

Yod (first card — the spark):
The will is there. The cut was made. Something started. Now the question is whether I let it finish before I grab for the next thing.

Heh (second card — the container):
This card shows me how I'm holding this situation. Am I making room for what's here, or trying to speed it along? Heh asks me to be the vessel, not the repair person.

Vav (third card — the connection):
This card shows how I'm moving through it — with presence or with performance? Am I staying by the window, or already writing the caption? The connection happens in the pause, not the post.

Heh final (fourth card — the manifestation):
This card shows where this is landing. If I let the grief land, something solid forms underneath it. If I rush, nothing roots.

Example: What if I pull The Hesitator (Fool reversed) in the Heh slot?

That means I'm holding the situation with hesitation. The container is made of "what if" and "not yet." I'm not letting the feeling land — I'm hovering at the edge of it, treating the window like a door I'm afraid to walk through. Heh wants me to stay and witness. The Hesitator wants to keep moving before anything lands. The message: slow down. Stop treating the pause as a problem.

Example: What if I pull Deflector (Magician reversed) in the Heh slot?

That means I'm holding the situation by pointing away from myself. I'm the container, but I've turned it into a mirror. I'm asking "how are you?" instead of feeling how I am. Heh wants open hands and a still tongue. Deflector wants to redirect. The message: stop managing the room. Let the feeling sit in your own chest first.

Example: What if I pull The Star (reversed) in the Heh slot?

That means I'm holding the situation with false hope or avoidance. I'm looking at the window but refusing to see what's actually there — maybe romanticizing the past, maybe waiting for a rescue that isn't coming. The Star reversed in the container position says: stop pretending the view is different than it is. Look again.

Crow says: "The window doesn't ask you to understand the weather. It asks you to watch it."

Blessing

May you not rush the weather.
May you look without flinching. May you see without fixing.
May you stop holding the air hostage.
May the window fog only from warmth, not from withheld tears.
May you look up without needing an answer.
May you catch yourself looking away — and look back.
May the window remind you: walls have openings.
May you remember the Star comes after the burn.

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.

Heh taught me that the cut needs air. That the window is not a trap — it's a mercy. That the only way out is through.

— Thank you for witnessing.
Loui Crow