I might be expelled from the queer community for what I’m about to write, but I’ve never been
all that woo-
woo. Sure, I’ve been to some crystal shops over the years (I did use to live in LA, after all, where if you didn’t
have a hunk of rose quartz stashed in your bra, you were basically nobody), and I hoard incense like it’s going
out of style, but that’s more to combat my apartment’s day-to-day grossness than anything else. Otherwise, I
don’t know my moon or my rising sign, and I don’t put nearly as much stock in the power of positive thinking as
your average reader would suggest I should.
All that is why when my friend Eliza pulled a tarot deck out of her backpack one night in 2017 toward the end
of our trip to Southeast Asia, I was instinctively suspicious. I was going through a lot during those two weeks,
muscling through what a psychiatrist would later tell me was long-undiagnosed mental illness but felt at the
time like just more of the same chaos that had engulfed my life for as long as I could remember: I rapid cycled
through emotions daily, boarding our two-hour flight from Cambodia to Vietnam smiling brightly and then, by the
time we touched down in Hanoi, crying so hard that a flight attendant rushed to my side with tissues
If I’d been in a better frame of mind, I might have brushed off Eliza’s attempt to read my tarot, but as it was I
barely managed to express my discomfort before I found myself shuffling the deck (in order to “get your energy
on the cards,” as Eliza put it). She had me pick three cards—one representing my past, one my present, and
one my future—and as she read out their meanings from the handy little guidebook that accompanied her deck,
I was shocked to find myself...soothed? The cards’ predictions were vague, but I remember pulling the Star,
representing hope—something I desperately needed at that time. I felt like I’d been running on empty for so
long, trying to get from day to day without direction or any way to give my struggle meaning. Although they fed
into a mystical culture that I’d long dismissed, the cards offered an antidote.
Fast-forward six years, and I am so many things I wasn’t on that heady, emotional trip to Asia; I’m now openly
queer, properly medicated, and a proud devotee of tarot, even if I’m still slightly dubious of crystals. (Jaya
Saxena’s book Crystal Clear, however, has done a lot to change my mind on that final front.) I no longer see
tarot as a ticket out of the mire of depression and anxiety—it’s just a practice—but ever since I came into
possession of my first tarot deck last year, I’ve been using the three-card draw to organize my thoughts and
plans in a way that feels right for me.
Almost every Sunday night for the past year or so, I’ve stuck to a tradition: First I cook or bake something
delicious that I’ll be able to eat all week long, whether it’s a tomato galette, a gigantic salad studded with
roasted beets and goat cheese, or Tejal Rao’s kale-sauce pasta. Next I watch Succession because I want to
have something to talk about with my coworkers on Monday morning. Finally I do my best to clear my mind,
throw on some calming music (currently it’s Enya’s album Dark Sky Island), and draw three tarot cards, just like
Eliza taught me to so many years ago.
I let the first card I draw represent my past, which I apply to the week I’ve just completed. The card itself
doesn’t always match what I’ve experienced, but I tend to think of its symbol in the abstract, taking what feels
right to me and leaving the rest. When recently I drew the Four of Swords, for instance, I let its suggestion to
rest and set limits remind me not to put so much pressure on myself to work 24/7; and when I drew the Page of
Wands, I applied its reminder to back up inspiration with action to my despair over the state of anti-LGBTQ+
legislation in Texas, where I currently live. I apply the second card I draw to the week ahead, taking that
opportunity to mull what’s coming up over the next seven days and to try to get in the right frame of mind to
meet whatever challenges I’m to face with integrity and as much excitement as I can muster.
The last card I draw is the future card, which I apply to the following week, and this one is perhaps the most
useful of all. I’ve never loved tarot readings that look too far into some nebulous future I can only half imagine,
but even at my most cynical, I’m capable of thinking two weeks ahead and reflecting on what I want my life to
look like once I get there. Before I started my Sunday-night tarot practice, I felt like I was living day-to-day,
rarely stopping to consider the past or hope for the future. Now I feel like I’m making some small communion
with the person I was yesterday and the person I hope to be tomorrow, even as I try to retain the most useful
tenet I’ve learned from my years of therapy and eating-disorder treatment and take it one day at a time.
Tarot isn’t for everyone, of course, but I’ve learned slowly that it’s for me. I enjoy getting more in tune with
the meaning of the various cards in my Rider-Waite deck and even occasionally offer readings to my friends,
but I’m not an expert. I know there is a lot more to learn—I love following astrologers like Jeanna Kadlec and
Mecca Woods—but for now I’m content with letting the cards be one of the many tools I use to organize my
weeks and regulate my emotions on nights when my old feelings of depression and anxiety creep up again. I
can’t always correct the mistakes of my past or anticipate my future, but I’m comfortable taking it all three
weeks at a time.
Task 1. Read the text. Find 6 words or phrases about tarot readings.
1. a tarot d___
2. to r___ someone’s tarot
3. s____ the d___
4. to p___ a card (2 answers possible)
5. to d____ three cards
6. a tarot p____
Task 2. Describe the author's Sunday night tradition involving tarot readings.
Which card from the tarot deck did the author recently draw, and how did they
apply its meaning to their life?
Task 3. Read the text again. Match words in bold to the definitions below.
a. to align oneself with the energy or frequency of
something, often for better understanding or harmony.
b. to collect and keep a large amount of something,
often in a secretive or excessive manner.
c. to use physical strength and determination to
overcome an obstacle or challenge.
d. a person's mental state or attitude at a particular
time.
e. to establish a deep connection or understanding
with someone or something.
f. to be completely surrounded or immersed in
something, often in a negative or overwhelming way.
g. to manage and control one's feelings and reactions
in a healthy and balanced way.
h. unconventional or spiritual practices that may be
considered strange or unscientific by some people.
i. somewhat doubtful or questionable.
j. with honesty, moral principles, and strong ethical
values.
In your opinion, can tarot readings be used as a tool to regulate emotions?
How does one's frame of mind affect the accuracy of a tarot reading?
What steps can be taken to ensure that a tarot reading is done with integrity?
