• Devany Amber Wolfe



Role Description

Requirement: Must live in Toronto!

Hours per week: 5-8

Pay: 18.00CDN / hourly paid bi-weekly via e-transfer 3 month probationary period, 20.00CDN / hourly paid bi-weekly via e-transfer after probationary period.


~ Customer service / emailing with customers and wholesalers in a courteous, kind, patient and professional manner.

~ Keeping the online shop organized - ensuring all orders are well maintained and filled in a timely manner. Knowledge of the Shopify platform is a plus, and will be favoured.

~ Packaging and shipping tarot decks carefully and in a timely manner (once a week, day is flexible) - having a vehicle is an asset.

~ Ability to come to Devany’s home office to participate in packaging / shipping once a week, exact day TBD.

~ Flexibility with weekly hours is an asset - will never be any more than 8 hours per week, but the role will sometimes demand less depending on how many orders have come in at any given time. This is an organic small business so fluidity is preferred.

~ Ability to keep monthly calendar organized and keep Devany informed / reminded of anything important having to do with the business.

~ Positive, playful attitude required!

Please email CV and cover letter describing skills and experience to

Deadline for applications: Friday, January 31st, 2020.

  • Devany Amber Wolfe

~Rehearsing Idyllic Realities For Ego Reinforcement and Mirages of Communion~

It’s 1997, I’m 13, and I’m sitting down to a personal computer for the very first time. The most nascent, umbilical-fed, hard-wired inception of the internet was not too far removed from going to a library and viewing newspapers in a microfiche. But it soon became rapid layering of textures, visuals, a place to peer into deeply, with the voraciousness of human curiosity burrowing ever-further into the reaches of the void where all things digital live, or perhaps more accurately - exist. In pixels, particles, particular flickers, a dancing light show that mimics real life.

It is a wonderful experience for my senses. I go to a few websites for my favourite bands. I feel like a voyeur who has been given a master key. The images take several minutes to peel themselves into revelation, yet I don’t mind, as I still mostly exist in a world where patience and gratitude for the wonders of technology are at the fore, and this has never been done before. I’m given an allowance of one hour per day in front of this screen, this shiny gateway. I’m content.

Fast-forward three years. It’s 2000, I’m 16. Y2K has come and gone with little incident (except in the mind and the hype, some sort of return to zero, technological dark age, yet reality couldn’t be further from that notion). I have my own computer now. And on it is a chat program called ICQ. It goes “Uh oh!” every time I receive a message (how humorous that the cute foreboding sound effect would, like all sci-fi tends to, predict the quaking anxiety that awaited us all with the advent of social media). Its flower icons show if someone was online or off, away, or not to be disturbed. At first it seemed important to announce one’s online status, but then it became more mysterious to always have a “do not disturb” or “away” icon blazing - which to me was the beginning of the insidious nature of social media - whereby one is always online, always watching, yet embedded in a leaf pile of gentle shame for technically always being available.

I spend hours here after school. I rush home, barely squeezing in a brief hello to my parents, and climb into my computer nest. It appeals to my writer’s sense (always a better writer than speaker, as though my good speech is simply reserved for a crisp white page, real or imagined). It allows for the monkey mind to run wild. It’s scintillating in how rapid it can be, how rewarding the rush is of receiving a new “Uh oh!” and wondering what will be there for my hungry eyes to absorb. The more messages, the more the feeling of being unpopular is erased. The screen acts as a painter and an eraser all at once. Erasing the need to be insecure and vulnerable in the flesh, and painting a new picture where all words are curated, responses can be deliberated over, and ultimately therein lies a rehearsal of idyllic reality.

Fast forward again two more years - I’m 18 and I have an internet boyfriend. He’s 19, and he lives 2,600 miles from me in British Columbia. No one in my school is cuter than him. No one in my school is interested in me anyway, except for the captain of the basketball team who simply wants to conquer an artist-type, similar in fashion to that film, “She’s All That” - and I let him, equally curious about how my social tendrils would fare in that scenario. But of course it went nowhere, and thus the online boyfriend ruled the day, and that whole year. We also spoke over the phone, and then later spent two weeks together (more on that later) - but the majority of the hours that comprised that dazzling, swoon-heavy year of my puppy love life took place in the 1s and 0s of the abysmal light box, forever converting code into a semblance of true connection. I replayed time and again the videos of him, with nothing but the screen illuminating his face, saying sweet nothings to me. Those were my precious gems.

Now, don’t get me wrong - feelings are real no matter who or what you feel them for. I know this to be true. It just so happened that my aforementioned tendrils were so long, and so tenacious, to reach 2,600 miles into the heart of another Capricorn who equally felt I was the sea-goat for him.

Yet despite having some nascent, teenaged understanding of reality vs imagination, and the great divide between the two, I was wholly unprepared for the incoming disillusionment which would present itself during our true, fleshy meeting. I travelled the endless miles over three days and mind-bending terrain to his doorstep, and he turned out to be a 50 year old man ---, he didn’t. But that’s a nightmarish scenario that of course played through my (and my parent’s) minds.

Oh, the sour disillusionment! He was every bit as handsome as I had compiled in my mind’s eye from photos and videos, but in a matter of days the blooming petals in my puppy heart had turned concave and begun burrowing themselves like ingrown nails, digging a new chasm inside of me that I didn’t know could exist. Every bit of poetry emitted from his virtual lips, every sinew of his liminal, imagined body did not, in its real form, imbue me with a sense of belonging as I had conjured over and over again in a feverish loop. What I stumbled upon was instead a labyrinth of - well...confused and angsty teenagehood. A boy who didn’t know how to be a boyfriend. Who spoke vast fantasies into existence, but whose existence could be dispelled like a puff of smoke. And as it turned out, I too could not rise to the occasion of my own elaborate depictions, and the self I had rehearsed myself to embody once the time came. The palpability of corporeality was simply too overwhelming for us both.

Fast-forward again to 2014. I’m 30, and I’ve begun my business. I’ve released the first edition of my inaugural tarot deck into the world. I have an instagram account, that I started the year before. I have just over 1,000 followers or so, if I remember correctly. I have a mounting sense of visual identity forming, and an endless appetite for exploration. I am avidly sharing creations and parts of my life, that seem genuinely reflected back at me by the small community of like-minded souls who also inhabit the platform. My posts are visible to everyone who follows me, and vice-versa, and our vanity, although present, is humbled by the yet-small reach we have, and the number of avocado toast photos that currently outnumber us.

Fast-forward again to 2017. I’m 33, and my business is thriving beyond my wildest imagination. My follower count has expanded to the tens of thousands. My network has expanded to include people that I never would have otherwise met. I’ve been featured in Wired Magazine, Nylon and Vogue. I’m in a race against myself. Only I stand in the way of me. My body, protesting due to un-integrated trauma, injury and autoimmune disease, becomes at once electrified and deadened by this constant onslaught of stimulation. My output is, in a word, insane. I’m making art as though it’s being hauled out of me by some unknown, anti-gravity force, pushing and pulling. It’s beautiful and ethereal. I’ve never been here before. I never dreamed it would be real. Since the grand disillusionment of my puppy love, I’ve run the gamut of the starving artist, first painting, then drawing, then both, then digital art. No one paid attention, or paid with money, for a long, long time. So this was like quenching thirst after a long time in the desert, except what the social media world expects of me was to leak, leak, leak those precious, vital liquids from my creative core into their thirsty mouths. And I, in turn, expect it of myself - becoming increasingly afraid that if I stop my enthralling momentum, I become irrelevant, returning to the squalour I worked so hard to arise from. So I press on despite myself at times. My words become ever-more personal, I’ve found my perfect light in photographs. The curation of the online experience has discovered its niche and how to manipulate others and oneself into fodder.

And in some ways, just as I was reaching my peak productivity, my body totally crashed. I suffered a concussion, and, despite keeping up a fairly good posting game, had to take the sidelines of my own career arc for several months. It was almost as though the soul screamed, “I AM NOT A MACHINE!” one last time, and threw me into submission.

Fast-forward once more to present day, with a wide net cast upon the last two years of social media development. I have 65,000 followers. I am, to the gaze of the lidless eye, a highly successful, world renowned artist. To be fair, I am that to myself as well, as I have developed a healthy viewpoint on my success. The insta grid, 3 wide and unfathomably deep, is punctuated by gorgeous visuals and poignant words, all of my own curation and creation.

Through my products and my generous writing, I’ve evidently helped countless people process limitless challenges, as I receive messages of that nature nearly daily. These tendrils, while tender, often fail to meet their intended heart-mark, due to their once-removed digital nature. You see, we do not directly touch one another’s hearts with one another’s warm hands. But we emote as though we do, which places such emphasis on the medium, repressing and sublimating the need for true connection.

The mimicry of kindredness is so insidious that, to the younger folk glued to their devices, there is no divide between the illusion and their logical discernment. There is no room for such discernment, as there has been no life Pre-Internet (PI) There is only After-Internet, (AI) Hmm...artificial intelligence, after-internet...I’m sensing a theme here.

Real life takes a backseat to the unending, technicolour dreamland of digital concepts. It is dull and gritty in comparison. There is so much pain, trauma, despair, melancholy, apathy and anger in this grit, visible within the grain of the high-definition cameras. So it’s best to blur those images, soften the lens, add filters, until there is little semblance of truth in the presentation.

Even those who ‘share their ugly’ in these voids - those who peer into our own darkness to extract meaning and flame - do so in a way that does not show the hairy asshole of it all. They stand, in lovely garb often gifted by companies who need brand ambassadors, well-coiffed, in magical, dappled sunlight, tossing a thoughtful gaze off into the distance, showing you that their toil is now bite-sized, past-tense, and most importantly they’ve gracefully transcended. Love and light. Namaste. They wear flowing robes that ripple in the breeze, they beckon you to come with them into the meadow of heightened spirituality. They flash veneered smiles that show they’ve made it through some shit and you can too. They quote Rumi, Eckhart Tolle, and if they’re real intellectuals, they might throw in some Jung. They reveal just enough so that they appear vulnerable, but remain intact. Because to totally fall apart, publicly, is akin to the madness which forever trapped Britney Spears in a meme with a bald head and threatening grimace.

In a world where no one knows who you are outside of the instagram grid, this kind of emotional farming is not only possible, but preferred. One may take 40,000 boomerangs of oneself before deciding which 0.5 degree facial angle is the prettiest for one’s stories. One may display 10 different highly-filtered selfies in a slideshow if one cannot decide which is the sexiest, in order to inhale as much positive feedback as possible, to boost one’s fragile ego. “Felt cute, might delete later” has become the perfect escape niche for burgeoning vanity, testing the waters for inclusion without the commitment - just in case the general consensus is indeed, ‘not cute.’ The inflated amour propre of each individual influencer, in their own right, would glow an ominous crimson and could be seen from the windows of their houses, yet you would never see the details of their painful experiences unless they wanted you to know them.

And so with each user exhibiting their finest, and parading their magical manifestation powers, there becomes a simulacrum of support and good vibes - yet it is based upon a broadcast, which is based upon a rehearsal, which is based upon an idea of reality, not the whole picture. It is so far-removed from the seat of the soul that the parade actually makes people physically and mentally ill over time, yet the dopamine addiction to likes and comments overwhelms the protestations of the higher self. The awareness of the dent in mental health is high enough at this point that many users in fitness and beauty fields are attempting to dispel myths about perfection on a regular basis, but their grids are still so highly curated that it doesn’t matter to the countless women and men who are sitting at home silently shaming their bodies and faces for not having the proportions the influencers do. There is so much FOMO (fear of missing out) that even while one is at an amazing event, or travelling to a beautiful place, one still feverishly checks their instagram to see what everyone else is doing. Is it better than what they are doing? More fun? More cool people? Are they getting more engagement?

Social media thrives on this vibrating insecurity. The lidless eye knows that we all crave connection, acceptance, inclusion, praise, admiration, success, mutual benefit...these are fundamental human desires. It knows that the more we curate ourselves, the more others will too, in this unbound, deathless race towards exquisiteness that crosses over often into supremacy and faultlessness. There is no fault if what we uphold is an illusion anyhow, right? We are either all at fault or none of us are. My cross-country lover was not at fault for not living up to the expectations he nurtured, or so he said, when he threw up his arms and cried, “I don’t know what you want from me!” The influencers are, apparently, not at fault for the illusions they cast into the abyss about body and lifestyle, as it is up to the consumer to discern.

So who is accountable? Certainly not instagram itself, as its scope is verily as epic as the fetus fields in The Matrix. When something becomes that indomitable, it is hermetically sealed from responsibility, especially given its users are there of their own free will. So it becomes up to us to manage ourselves, our expectations, our egos, our discernment of reality versus illusion, the pain and anxiety we experience being under the gaze all the time. We have to actively seek out real connections and experiences and deliberately put the phones and computers away for periods of time to refresh the sense of what is true. Like it or not, as my therapist recently pointed out, this is the age we now live in. But I, for one, often miss the days PI. I have never been a proponent of artificial intelligence and I am quickly becoming tired of this article’s other AI (after internet) - as I am wary of anything that is so insidious that you cannot recall how you lived your life before it. To me, there are only a few basic things that are truly needed in life, and the toxicity of social media is not one of them.

Not unless the eternal gaze will begin to uphold those whose beauty lies in their vision for a healthier future of the planet. A space where instead of clamouring for approval of a perfect bone structure that will eventually disintegrate and populate the soil, we clamour to improve ourselves in real ways and inspire each other to do the same. A place where the top of the pyramid is truly a vast ocean where everyone is doing their part. Where the only things we are showing off are our remarkable inventions, innovations, inner work, where we beckon each other to green up and grow out our lives, into meadows we ourselves have grown and tended to.

I can hope.

Devany Amber Wolfe

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  • Devany Amber Wolfe

Celestial Bodies Oracles Week of 7/14 - 7/20

If for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, this week serves as the dualistic echo of eclipse season’s powerful tremors. Sunday’s opposition between the Sun and Pluto brings truth up from the depths, and highlights potential power struggles, obsessions, as the blinding light of the Sun exposes Pluto’s chthonic predilections. We’re setting up now for the Full Moon lunar eclipse in Capricorn which arrives on Tuesday, clocking in at 24°, conjunct the South Node, Saturn, and Pluto. 

The Nodes of Fate show us the path to destiny. We are not able to control much of our outcomes at this point in time, and the push to accept this sense of non-attachment has been driving most of us a little nuts. You are not alone. With Mercury, Jupiter, Saturn, Neptune, and Pluto all retrograde, there are so few answers available to us. What we can do is mostly to flow with the sense of undefined transformation, and to hold space for the things that leave us, thanking them for our time together — or banishing them to eternity once and for all. All actions, conversations, choices, pronouncements, feel fated right now. Remember that we don’t have all the information just yet, and that we are working through this all together. 

Tuesday’s eclipse rests beside the South Node, which creates a powerful force of elimination in our lives. All things related to Capricorn in its shadow form (the accumulation of power for power’s sake, the attachment to structures that harm rather than help, the mindless dedication to beaurocracy that keeps people out rather than welcomes them in, etc.) must be released. Look to your chart to see where 24° Capricorn exists for more information on how this particularly impacts you. 

With the Moon conjunct Saturn and Pluto, this eclipse acts as a reckoning. Structural powers (Saturn) are being eliminated (Pluto). Think Tower energy. What remains will be a confusing array of broken foundation, but then we get to build again, from scratch, and on our own terms. This is a portal to self-ownership, an awakening of maturity that is both practical and spiritual. 

Wednesday sees the Moon oppose Mercury and Mars, giving us some swagger. We may feel a bit off kilter as the Moon connects with Uranus, planet of surprise. Make sure you are grounded the day after the eclipse, especially. This is a day where we might feel a bit tender, with the chance of overwhelm. 

Thursday is gorgeous, hopeful, and supportive, as the Moon sextiles Jupiter, planet of fertility. Venus trines Neptune, harmonizing energies of the love goddess and the god of fantasy. This is a lush day for art, for connecting passionately with those we love, and for letting the imagination lead the way. 

On Friday Mercury slips backwards into Cancer, and as it reconnects with the 29th degree of this sign, conversations from June 26th-27th re-emerge for your consideration. At the end of the week we are blessed with a moment of inventiveness, as the Moon sextiles eccentric Uranus. With the Moon square Jupiter, there is a reminder that we need to wed our innovation and optimism to a solid plan. All of the energy we released through the eclipse permeates and filters through the rest of this and next week’s astrology, so make sure you are holding tight to yourself, to the earth, and to one another. 

Aries + Aries Rising 

Striving for the greatest of all heights leads to great pressure. This week you are moving through a portal of pain that you may feel over-exposes your pain and process to those around you. Beliefs you held dearly about your self-image in the world, in a public sense, are now up for re-evaluation. Letting go of previous expectations of the definition of success suits you now. Remember that you are not losing yourself, but untangling your heart from pressures you didn’t ask for. 

Taurus + Taurus Rising 

Lately your bright mind has been up against a lot—problem solving, taking time to make sure all your affairs are in order, and the verbal effort it takes to make yourself clear is likely wearing you a bit thin. At this point in the year, and in the eclipse cycle, you are allowed to loosen that grip a little bit. There is no point in maintaining outmoded ways of seeing the world, and of being yourself. There are fresh truths waiting for you to brush up against them in the woods of your heart. A new beginning for your philosophy of self, and of spirit, will make itself evident, as soon as you evacuate old theories of being. 

Gemini + Gemini Rising 

Your unique perspective is always aflutter, mind split by the power of duality. This imbues you with the power of sight, always seeing what’s not present, as well as what’s in front of you. The eclipse is here, asking you to engage with and release from a place of tender darkness in your chart, my dear. Understanding that the pain you’ve held does not need to be held in obscurity can bring power. Be gentle with that dazzling heart as you unburden yourself. 

Cancer + Cancer Rising 

Who is the other and who are you? What rhythms of song do you maintain for the sake of those beyond yourself? Understanding that a strict sense of boundaries can come with some pain, you are one who can be soft or mean, permissive or protective. This eclipse is asking you to do away with that old self, the one that let too many others in. This time, you are asked to do away with false compromise. Honor yourself and the promises you make to your own heart. 

Leo + Leo Rising 

Locating the body is what is required at this time. The way your circadian cycles either support or hinder your tender form will be making itself apparent this week, as the eclipse highlights your relationship to rhythms of wellness. You are generous to a fault, warm, and expansive. Make sure you spend as much time healthfully supporting yourself as you do taking care of others. There is an old cycle that can be banished now. Do so with grace, and turn to love yourself. 

Virgo + Virgo Rising 

Holding pain in places where others cannot see will get you nowhere. It is time to step outside of yourself, and to put yourself in the spotlight. It’s no mystery to me that you’ve avoided this last crucial step, but my dear, it is time to let your voice be heard. Old ways of hiding, old ways of keeping yourself from the eyes of others, must be vanquished now. A new narrative of self-expression awaits. Remember what has held you back, and bit it farewell. 

Libra + Libra Rising 

Doting on those you love brings joy, but so much of what happens behind closed doors can be hurtful, confusing. This eclipse is here as a reminder that the domestic, the private, the ancestral, should be holding you up rather than pinning you down. Your adoration for harmony can put you in harms way. Make a pact with yourself this week to evacuate private behaviors that do not serve your highest self. It is time to move on. 

Scorpio + Scorpio Rising 

Though you prefer to work behind the scenes, you have a huge amount to say to the world. Sweet Scorpio, your motives are your own, we all know this about you. With this said, this eclipse is here to awaken and reinvigorate your sense of community, and how you connect with those around you. Do you often feel you are misunderstood? There are old wounds around the way you reach out that are ready to be burned away. Light the match, my cthonic darling. 

Sagittarius + Sagittarius Rising 

In moments of space and moments of peace, you are one who is proud of what they’ve earned, and you deserve to feel this way. This eclipse draws your attention to the physical, to the material, and to the tangible. Remembering the senses is as important as exploring the world around you. Growth comes this week by releasing old attachments to superficial markers of success, happiness, and wealth. You can start fresh, and there are old toxic beliefs around money and security that are waiting to be released by you. 

Capricorn + Capricorn Rising 

Transformation—it’s a heavy word that’s been thrown around like lead this year, as Saturn, your ruler, travels with Pluto, the great un-doer. The ways in which you see yourself, your very identity, are being changed now right before our eyes. Dear Capricorn, the waters are rough, but at this point, it serves best to let those waves thrash the old stagnation out of you, and to let yourself be washed ashore, a little bit tired, but brand new. 

Aquarius + Aquarius Rising 

Your sensitivity for others bespeaks a deep well of collective knowledge, ancestral memory, and an intuitive link to both future and past. This eclipse is a renewal for your soul, as one of the most psychic, private, ineffable parts of your chart is activated by the power of the South Node. Be mindful of old memories of pain bubbling up. If they do, acknowledge and name them. Make time for yourself to rest. This is a cosmic reset for your magical, intuitive faculties. Move gently, take a moment away from the world, and listen to the inner river of collective voice. 

Pisces + Pisces Rising 

Pisces you are blessed with such a sweet and expansive heart. You yearn to make space for all inside the hallowed walls of your own personal emotional world, and we love you for this. Despite your greatest efforts, there are likely people who you have invited in who have not respected the space you make. This eclipse is a call for you to recognize that you deserve to have some boundaries, and that there are bonds you can do away with at this point in time. Remember that your circle should be comprised of people who root for you, and who share your utopian dream. Anything short of that is not acceptable, not anymore. 

Written by Cristina Farella of Eighth House Astrology

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