Death

When I was a kid, I didn't really like cured meat. I didn't like the smoky smell or the chewy texture; I preferred the brightness and directness of fresh meat. As I grew up, I gradually began to understand many foods—the flavors, the textures. I began to understand illness, death, and why my grandma walked slower and slower. I understood how muscle and fat quietly disappear, leaving behind loose skin, blue veins, and many tiny brown spots. When my grandma passed away, spring had just arrived, and new leaves were appearing next to the fallen ones. This is the true meaning of the Death card. The Hebrew letter for this card is Nun, which originally meant "fish," representing reproduction, life, birth, and sprouting. It also means "movement," representing change, travel, leaving, rotation, and transformation—while also signifying "eternity." Death and birth become a pair of complementary concepts; where there is death, there is resurrection, and resurrection is the starting point of eternity. Just like cured meat, humans use salt, smoke, and wind to fix meat that should have rotted outside of time. Through curing, drying, and smoking, it is resurrected with a new flavor, becoming a taste memory for a family, a holiday, or a village—an eternity that exists in the mind.

Ending, death, inevitable transformation, entrance to rebirth, renewal of identity or stage, path toward metamorphosis.

Resistance to change, stagnation, stuck in old patterns, refusing to let go, unable to see the opportunity for new life behind the end.