Are you reading the cards, or are your cards reading you?
Some days, it feels like more people talk about getting read by their cards than reading their cards.
I love a pun and a queer catch phrase, so I get it. (To “be read” is to be seen and understood at your most basic and then witheringly critiqued, sometimes lovingly.) And when you feel disconnected or unseen or unsure, it’s good to have the cards confirm that you are in fact here and present and aware of what’s going on in your life. They also probably tell you something you need to address. These are the benefits of “getting read” by your cards.
But usually by the time we feel as if we’ve “been read,” it’s not new information. It’s not a divinatory insight. It’s a reminder of what we’re not doing about ourselves or our lives.
And that can be exhausting.
It’s much easier to laugh it off as “being read” and move on. How often does anyone actually have time to start doing the work right then and there anyway? (This is a separate problem that I discuss in Tarot to Transform Your Life.)
It’s not just tarot cards that can be shady.
But the underlying issue doesn’t go away. And when the same cards come up again and again, they can feel as if they’re haunting you. What was a quick and playful, “love-ya-sis” read becomes a “stalker” card. We don’t want to keep seeing that visitor, and its wisdom becomes unwelcome. Anyone who has actually experienced stalking knows that it’s usually not a fun or even funny experience.
Maybe it’s the legacy of childhood achievements and the need for parental approval, but I know I’m not alone in having experienced a time when I felt burdened by the weight of what was in the cards. When it reaches that point, the cards can feel like just one more reminder of what you’re not doing. This is often the point at which readers put their cards away for a little while (or forever). They need the breathing space and time to get away from the pressure. It’s good to have boundaries, and in that clear air, you might make time and space to make the changes in your life that you want.
But why ditch the cards? They’re not the source of the problem. Why not learn how to use tarot to transform your life?
Divination may feel like a passive act, where you receive information and then that’s it. It can be like reading the news: sometimes good comes of it and sometimes it looks like a nightmare that you’re powerless to change. But tarot doesn’t have to be a passive tool. You aren’t powerless in your life. Tarot can be empowering.
Receptive divining can help you see patterns in your life (and lives) and upcoming opportunities, and that is a large part of what I help people uncover through coaching. But it doesn’t end there. You can then use the tarot cards to actively examine those parts of yourself and plan how to act on that received information. The cards will act as guides along the way to help you course-correct and realign with that burning fire in your soul, and all of that keeps you moving forward and transforming.
Once you know how to use tarot, the cards should not be a burden. They should not weaken you. You may not want to work on what’s coming up in the cards, but then it won’t bother you to see what’s there. And when you’re feeling ready to brave that work, they’re here for you.
In preparation for this blog post, I thought I should pull some cards that might read me. I specifically asked the deck (my handy, take-anywhere, on-the-go Life Line Tarot) for a card that would “read me.” I pulled the 10 of Pentacles. It’s an important throwback to the earliest reading I did for myself on social media as @HermitsMirror. (You can read the blog version here: “100 Days of Tarot, Part 1.”)
But it’s an important “self-read” in this transitional phase of my life as I try to understand the limits of what I actually accomplish in a single day without burning out.
On one level, it’s asking me, What more could you possibly want?
I have a rich life. I have a long-term romantic partner and an adorable dog and a good relationship with most of the rest of my family. I have a successful professional career outside of Hermit’s Mirror that lets me pay my bills and buy overpriced coffee on the daily. I have friends. I have my health. I have a reflective and thoughtful personal tarot practice. And I have creative gifts that I can use if I ever make the time to use them outside of marketing.
The 10 of Pentacles and the Queen of Cups from the original Life Line Tarot reading me real good.
So why, Greedy Guts, is that not enough for you?
The Queen of Cups is the answer that’s hiding in the 10 of Pentacles. There’s a song coming from the ocean of my soul that wants a deeper connection to the mystical and unknowable. I am connected to the spirits of the dead, not just the living. That part of me wants to come out of hibernation, and it can’t do that just in my free time on nights and weekends.
What does that have to do with the 10 of Pentacles?
If you’ve followed me for more than a minute, you probably know that I appreciate pairing astrology with tarot to derive additional nuance from the cards. In the Golden Dawn’s astrological mapping for the major arcana, the 10 of Pentacles is associated with Mercury and Virgo. As the mutable earth sign, Virgo is the sign that is most ready to leave its material roots for the spirit realm. It’s part of why they’re such great analysts. (Through that lens, the Hermit is an apt figure for Virgo, isn’t it?)
And if you’re still in the earthly realm as Virgo is, then the spirit world is the underworld. To make this underworld connection clearer, Mercury is the primary Roman psychopomp who helped people (the living and the dead) find their way to the gateway to the underworld, that place where worlds meet and the veil is at its thinnest.
But Mercury isn’t just one thing. (What trickster god is?) He’s also the Roman god of commerce, and Pentacles are four-parts matter (originally Coins with four material points on the pentagram) to one-part spirit (the upper point of the pentagram). This is a card of financial stability and collecting enough to support a whole family. Job security and consistent income is important to me. And that’s never guaranteed as an entrepreneur.
Thanks to the 10 of Pentacles, I can see that these things don’t have to be in tension, even if I feel them as such right now. So what do I do about it?
That’s for me to figure out in consultation with deeper tarot readings that can help me make shifts that address this inner tension, not just random pulls. Perhaps I can start by spending some time with my Ancestral Gathering tarot spread designed around the 10 of Pentacles. And maybe it’s time to promote my mediumship readings, connecting people with ancestors, past lives, and even (for special clients) the more recently deceased.
When I get too into my exercise world, I like to remind myself that the word coach used to reference a person is a relatively recent term derived from a form of transportation. Coaches help you get from one place to another. You may have to do some work before you get to them, and you may not finish at your end destination with them. But they’ll do a lot of the organizational work to help you get to a place where you can find your way. The Hermit can be a kind of coach.
Before coaching others with tarot, I learned to understand their proactive guidance in my own readings and professional development. Read some of my own personal stories of transformation through tarot: