EsotericErin

Category: Tarot

  • You Don’t Have to Know It’s the Right Choice

    There’s a particular kind of discomfort that comes with making a decision when you don’t know how it’s going to turn out.

    You can think it through. Weigh the options. Ask people you trust. Make a list of pros and cons.

    You can consider every possible outcome you can imagine.

    And still, eventually, you have to choose without knowing what happens next.

    I think that’s the part we sometimes struggle with most.

    Not necessarily making the decision itself, but accepting that we can’t know in advance whether it will work out the way we hope.

    What if I choose this and regret it?

    What if the other option would have been better?

    What if I’m missing something important?

    What if I make the wrong choice?

    Sometimes these are useful questions. There may be information we haven’t considered, consequences we need to think through, or people whose perspectives would help us.

    But sometimes we’ve considered everything we reasonably can.

    And we’re still waiting.

    Waiting for a sign.

    Waiting to feel certain.

    Waiting for the moment when one option finally feels so obviously right that choosing it no longer feels like a risk.

    I wonder how much of our lives we spend waiting for that feeling.

    Because certainty can be awfully reassuring. If we could know that we were making the right decision, we could move forward without having to worry about what might happen if we weren’t.

    We could choose without risking regret.

    We could act without having to live with the possibility that things might not work out.

    But that’s not quite how decisions work, is it?

    We make them with the information we have, the circumstances we’re in, the resources available to us, and the understanding we’ve developed so far.

    And then life continues.

    New information arrives. Circumstances change. Other people make their own choices. Things we couldn’t have anticipated become relevant.

    Sometimes our decisions work out beautifully.

    Sometimes they don’t.

    Sometimes we make a thoughtful decision and still get an outcome we never wanted.

    And sometimes we make a decision that seemed right at the time and later realize we’d choose differently now.

    I don’t think any of that necessarily means we failed to trust ourselves.

    It means we made a decision without having access to the future.

    Which is, unfortunately, the only kind of decision most of us get to make.

    When I read tarot, I’m not trying to take someone’s uncertainty away by handing them a predetermined answer.

    I’m more interested in the questions the cards help us ask.

    What does this card bring to mind?

    What does it invite you to consider?

    Does it resonate with something you’re already sensing, or does it offer a perspective you hadn’t entertained?

    Sometimes we need a different lens to notice something we couldn’t see from where we were standing. We might discover an influence we hadn’t considered, recognize a strength we haven’t thought to draw on, or begin to understand why we’re hesitating over something we otherwise want.

    That’s what draws me to tarot and astrology. Not the promise of a predetermined future, but the opportunity to explore the patterns, possibilities and influences that might help us meet our lives more consciously.

    A pattern can offer context without becoming a verdict. A possibility can be worth considering without becoming a promise. And something that resonates with us doesn’t have to dictate what we do next.

    You don’t have to agree with every interpretation. You don’t have to treat a card as an instruction. And you certainly don’t have to hand your judgment over to it.

    The reading is part of the conversation, not a replacement for your own voice.

    My intention, when I read for someone, is to remind them of their own agency and empower them to take control of their own lives instead of putting their future in someone else’s hands.

    We can seek perspective without seeking permission. We can take what feels useful, question what doesn’t, and decide what we want to do with what we’ve learned.

    And then we still get to choose.

    I think self-trust can get tangled up with the idea that we should be able to recognize the right choice when we see it.

    That if we really knew ourselves, listened to our intuition, or thought things through properly, we’d be able to choose correctly.

    But that puts an awful lot of responsibility on us to predict things we cannot possibly know.

    And when the outcome isn’t what we wanted, it gives us a convenient reason to turn around and put ourselves on trial.

    I should have known.

    I knew better.

    Why didn’t I listen to myself?

    Sometimes, in retrospect, we can identify something we missed. We can recognize a warning sign we dismissed or information we didn’t have at the time.

    That can be useful.

    But there’s a difference between learning something from a decision and deciding we should have been able to predict everything that followed it.

    We don’t get to make choices with hindsight.

    We make them with what we know at the time.

    And perhaps trusting ourselves means allowing that to be enough.

    Not because our judgment is infallible.

    Not because we will always choose well.

    But because we can make a considered choice without demanding that it come with a guarantee.

    We can listen to ourselves, seek information, acknowledge uncertainty, and decide what seems right given what we know.

    And then we can meet what happens next.

    If we learn something, we can take it into account.

    If our circumstances change, we can reconsider.

    If we discover that we want something different, we can change our minds.

    We don’t have to defend every decision we’ve ever made just because we made it.

    We don’t have to keep walking down a path simply to prove that choosing it was the right thing to do.

    And we don’t have to interpret every unexpected outcome as evidence that we should never have trusted ourselves in the first place.

    Sometimes a choice is right for the person we are, with the information we have, in the circumstances we’re navigating.

    And later, we become someone with different information, different needs, or a different understanding of what matters.

    We are allowed to respond to that.

    I think there’s something freeing about separating self-trust from certainty.

    Because if I can only trust myself when I know I’ll get things right, then my self-trust depends on something I can never guarantee.

    But if I can trust myself to listen, consider, choose, learn, and respond, then I have somewhere to stand even when the outcome is uncertain.

    I don’t need to know that everything will work out.

    I don’t need to believe that the universe has arranged things in my favour.

    I don’t need to find a sign that tells me which future I’m supposed to choose.

    I can be curious about the possibilities without treating them as promises.

    I can hope for a particular outcome without assuming it’s the only one I could live with.

    I can be afraid of making the wrong choice and still make a choice.

    And I can leave room for the possibility that I’ll learn something along the way.

    Maybe self-trust isn’t the feeling that you’ve finally figured everything out.

    Maybe it’s the willingness to participate in your own life even when you haven’t.

    To make a decision without knowing how it ends.

    To let yourself be a person who is learning rather than a person who is supposed to know.

    To remember that the next choice you make doesn’t have to be perfect to be yours.

    You don’t have to know how things will turn out to decide what to do next.

    Sometimes you can simply make the best choice you can with what you know.

    And trust yourself to meet what comes after.

  • What If You Let Yourself Be Mad About It?

    There is a particular kind of discomfort that comes with being angry.

    Not just the anger itself.

    The moment afterward, when you start wondering whether you’re allowed to be angry.

    Maybe it wasn’t that serious.

    Maybe they didn’t mean it that way.

    Maybe you’re being too sensitive.

    Maybe you should look at it from their perspective.

    Maybe there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.

    And before you’ve even had a chance to feel the anger, you’ve started arguing it out of existence.

    I’ve done this.

    I think a lot of us have.

    We are very good at moving quickly from I am angry to here is why I shouldn’t be.

    Sometimes that’s useful.

    Sometimes understanding the context really does change how we feel.

    But sometimes I wonder what we’re missing when we rush past the feeling to get to the explanation.

    Anger doesn’t need to be a verdict

    I don’t think every feeling is a verdict.

    Being angry doesn’t automatically mean someone else is wrong.

    Being hurt doesn’t automatically mean someone has done something unforgivable.

    Feeling resentful doesn’t necessarily mean a relationship needs to end.

    A feeling can be information without being an instruction.

    That distinction matters to me.

    Because I don’t want to live in a world where every emotion has to become an action.

    I don’t want anger to mean say something immediately.

    I don’t want sadness to mean cancel everything and process.

    I don’t want resentment to mean someone needs to pay attention to this right now.

    Sometimes the feeling can simply be there.

    I’m angry.

    That’s it.

    No courtroom.

    No verdict.

    No five-point argument explaining why the anger is justified.

    Just the recognition that, for whatever reason, this is where I am right now.

    We are often very eager to feel better

    There are so many ways to leave a feeling before we’ve really been in it.

    We distract ourselves.

    We find something productive to do.

    We call a friend.

    We scroll.

    We make a joke.

    We look for the silver lining.

    We tell ourselves someone else has it worse.

    We try to understand why the person behaved the way they did.

    We forgive before we’ve admitted we’re hurt.

    We turn the whole thing into a lesson.

    And sometimes those things are exactly what we need.

    I’m not arguing for sitting in every unpleasant emotion indefinitely.

    I’m not suggesting that feeling terrible is inherently virtuous.

    But I think there’s something worth noticing about how quickly we sometimes reach for an exit.

    Especially when the feeling is inconvenient.

    Especially when the feeling doesn’t fit the person we want to believe we are.

    I don’t want to be angry.

    I don’t want to be resentful.

    I don’t want to be jealous.

    I don’t want to be disappointed.

    I should be grateful.

    So we try to make the feeling smaller.

    Or prettier.

    Or more reasonable.

    Or useful.

    Anything but simply there.

    What if you didn’t need to do anything with it?

    This is where wallowing gets interesting to me.

    Because I don’t think wallowing has to mean indulging every feeling until it becomes your entire afternoon.

    Sometimes it can be much simpler.

    Something genuinely sucks.

    And for a little while, you let yourself admit that it sucks.

    You don’t look for the lesson.

    You don’t force gratitude into the room.

    You don’t tell yourself that everything happens for a reason.

    You don’t immediately ask what you’re going to do about it.

    You just let yourself be disappointed.

    Or angry.

    Or sad.

    Or scared.

    Or thoroughly, gloriously not okay about something that really isn’t okay.

    And maybe you say something to yourself that feels almost embarrassingly obvious:

    This hurt.

    I’m angry.

    I didn’t want this.

    I really wish this had gone differently.

    There is something strangely freeing about not requiring yourself to make the feeling useful.

    Feelings don’t have to earn their keep

    I think productivity culture has seeped into our emotional lives in some strange ways.

    We want our grief to teach us something.

    Our anger to motivate us.

    Our sadness to deepen us.

    Our mistakes to make us better.

    Our difficult experiences to make us stronger.

    And again, sometimes they do.

    But what if they don’t?

    What if you are just sad today?

    What if you’re angry because something was unfair?

    What if you’re disappointed because you wanted something and didn’t get it?

    What if you don’t discover a beautiful insight hiding underneath the whole thing?

    Does the feeling become wasted?

    I don’t think so.

    Not everything valuable has to produce something.

    You don’t have to emerge from an afternoon of being miserable with a new personality and a five-year plan.

    Sometimes you emerge having simply felt what you felt.

    And perhaps that is enough.

    There is a difference between feeling and feeding

    I think this distinction matters, too.

    Because when I talk about wallowing, I don’t mean rehearsing the same grievance for hours so that the anger gets bigger and bigger.

    There is a difference between feeling a feeling and feeding it.

    Feeling might sound like:

    That really hurt.

    I’m so angry.

    I wish this hadn’t happened.

    Feeding it might sound like:

    And another thing.

    And remember when they did this?

    And you know what else I hate?

    One can create space.

    The other can sometimes create a spiral.

    I don’t think we need a stopwatch to tell us which is which.

    We can notice.

    Am I actually feeling this?

    Or:

    Am I keeping myself angry because letting go feels harder?

    And even that isn’t a moral judgment.

    Sometimes we’re not ready to let go.

    That’s information, too.

    Maybe staying with a feeling changes our relationship to it

    One of the things I like about allowing a feeling some room is that it doesn’t necessarily stay exactly the same.

    Anger might soften into disappointment.

    Disappointment might reveal grief.

    Grief might simply become tiredness.

    Or nothing changes at all.

    Maybe you’re still angry tomorrow.

    That’s okay.

    The point isn’t to manipulate the feeling into becoming something more comfortable.

    It’s to stop requiring yourself to perform comfort before you’re ready.

    There is a difference between:

    I need to feel better.

    and

    I can feel this.

    The second one gives us somewhere to stand.

    You can be in it without staying there

    This is probably the part I most want to hold onto.

    Because I don’t want wallowing to become another rigid rule.

    Now I must feel my feelings properly.

    Now I have to sit with this for exactly as long as necessary.

    Now I can’t distract myself because that would mean I’m avoiding.

    No.

    Sometimes you genuinely don’t have the capacity to sit with something.

    Sometimes dinner needs making.

    Sometimes your child needs you.

    Sometimes work needs doing.

    Sometimes you need to watch something stupid for twenty minutes because you are exhausted.

    You can take a break from a feeling.

    You can come back to it.

    You can feel it for five minutes and then decide you’ve had enough for today.

    You can feel it again tomorrow.

    You can have a good afternoon while still being angry about something.

    None of this needs to become a performance.

    Maybe permission is the useful part

    Perhaps that’s what I mean when I say wallowing can be healthy.

    Not that feeling bad is good.

    Not that misery is meaningful.

    Not that every emotion contains some profound truth waiting to be excavated.

    Just that sometimes we need permission to not rush.

    Permission to be angry before we’re reasonable.

    Permission to be sad before we’re grateful.

    Permission to be disappointed before we’re philosophical.

    Permission to say:

    This really sucks.

    And not immediately follow it with:

    But…

    Maybe we don’t need the but yet.

    Maybe we can just be here.

    For a little while.

    And when we’re ready, we can move.

    Not because we finally made the feeling productive.

    Not because we found the lesson.

    Not because we proved we are emotionally healthy.

    Just because eventually, there is somewhere else to go.

    And perhaps having actually been where we were makes it a little easier to leave.

  • Welcome

    This is not a post about fixing anything.


    It’s an invitation to pause, to notice, and to sit with what’s present—without needing to resolve it.


    If you’ve found your way here because something feels off, unclear, or quietly resistant, you don’t need to name it yet.


    You’re allowed to sit with this.

    I don’t offer answers here.

    Not because I don’t have opinions, or experiences, or things I’ve learned the hard way; I do. But because answers, when they arrive too quickly, have a way of replacing something more important.

    Listening.

    This space exists for something slower than certainty. It exists for the questions that surface when you finally stop pushing through, the ones you might not have known how to ask because you were too busy coping, performing, or keeping things moving.


    If you’re here, there’s a good chance something in your life isn’t working the way it used to. You may not know exactly what it is yet. You might not have words for it. You might only have a vague sense of friction, fatigue, or quiet resistance.


    That’s enough.


    You don’t need a fully formed understanding to be here. You don’t need to articulate anything neatly. You don’t need to arrive with insight, or clarity, or a plan for what comes next.


    You’re allowed to sit with this.


    A lot of spaces promise resolution. They want to help you fix, optimize, heal, or transcend. Often, very quickly. Often with the best of intentions. But I’ve learned, both personally and through years of listening to other women, that rushing to make meaning can become another way of overriding ourselves.


    Sometimes the most honest thing you can do is admit, quietly, that something feels off, and stay there for a while.

    This is not a space for emotional bypassing. It’s not a place where discomfort needs to be reframed into a lesson, or smoothed over so it’s easier for others to digest. There’s no expectation that you move on, stay positive, or make your feelings productive.


    There is no requirement to be consistent. No urgency to get anywhere. No pressure to turn what you’re feeling into something useful.


    Insight can arrive slowly.


    I’m not here as an authority over your inner life. I’m here alongside you, holding space for inquiry without coercion.

    What you notice, when you notice it, belongs to you. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for it, and you certainly don’t need to make it comfortable for someone else before it’s true for you.

    If this feels like an exhale, you’re in the right place.

    You’re allowed to sit with what’s present, without judgment or demand. You’re allowed to take your time. You’re allowed to feel your feelings without having to justify them.

    Nothing needs to change right now.

  • Discover the October 23rd Healing Light Holistic Fair

    I am off to the fair!

    Given the pandemic our world has been battling since the beginning of last year, one of my favourite activities hasn’t been able to happen. In my current town, a group of amazingly talented and incredibly passionate individuals get together at a community centre and offer their services. I’ll be reading tarot.

    There won’t be as many people participating in this fair as other fairs we’ve had, unfortunately. We also have COVID-19 protocols we’ll be following that are in line with our area’s safety guidelines. It’s so important that everyone does their best to keep themselves and others safe in these uncertain times. Please, wear your mask and get your vaxx!

    2021-10-23T10:00:00

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    Healing Light Holistic Fair

  • 9 Sensational Archetypes

    9 Sensational Archetypes

    I have been in possession of 3 decks designed by Kim Krans for a while now because I love the imagery but haven’t been ready to use them until recently. There’s a quality of starkness to them, a no-nonsense feeling, that I wasn’t prepared to face. They’ve been calling to me lately, so I’m dipping my toe in to really get to know them. This post is specifically about the Wild Unknown Archetypes deck. I won’t touch on every single card because that would make for a long read; I’m going to write about some of the cards I had the most dramatic or surprising reaction to.

    The Orphan

    The imagery of this archetype makes me profoundly sad. In the very first card in the deck (The Mother), the snake seems coiled protectively around the egg/seed/pearl, but it is looser in the picture. That, combined with the little hand grasping for something it cannot reach, breaks my heart. This is a card signalling the need for compassion and welcoming acceptance of the whole, no matter how broken it appears.

    The Hunter & The Warrior

    These archetypes initially seemed extremely like each other to me in concept, so I had difficulty discerning why I had a more negative reaction to The Hunter until I read Kim’s meanings in the book. To me, The Warrior is more primal, it’s something less controllable, instinct from the lizard brain whereas The Hunter is more in line with “civilized society”. So, when I contemplate the idea they both participate in activities that end in death, I find it more frightening to think of the bringer of death presenting as someone innocuous.

    The Comic

    The black and white human eyes peering out from the ginger cat’s face spooked me. In addition to the cracks and splits in the face, those made the word “façade” spring to mind. I saw Robin Williams in my mind’s eye—someone who is hurting internally while externally committed to making others happy. By no means do I think everyone who appears jovial or wants to make others happy is depressed, but it’s a convenient mask.

    The Empty Room & The Castle

    Anyone who has ever walked past a jewellery store with me will tell you I’m a self-proclaimed magpie. It hardly came as a surprise to me to feel an affinity for The Castle and just as expected for me to experience apprehension when faced with The Empty Room. I don’t like being anywhere all by myself for an indefinite period. Being comfortable with aloneness without succumbing to loneliness is something I’m sitting with and working on.

    Kairos

    The amount of peace I experienced while looking at the Kairos archetype card was surprising. Time is a concept I’ve sometimes struggled with externally (it took me an embarrassingly long time to competently read an analogue clock) and internally (constantly ruminating over the past or worrying over the future as opposed to living in the present). Still, I feel I’ve come into temporal synchronicity in the past year or so, which helps me resonate with this card now.

    The Seed & The Stone

    For me, the emotions I experience when studying the images for these archetypes are two sides of the same coin. In the Seed archetype, we see the beginning and almost unlimited potential. In the face of unlimited potential, I freeze up—“If I have no ceiling for what I’m capable of, how will I know when I’ve reached where I need or want to be? How will I know I’m not just settling?”—and the potential can feel wasted before it’s even been tapped into. Eternity is offered by the Stone archetype and I am thrust into a crisis of worthiness. What can I offer that deserves to last forever?

    I reflected on time when I wrote about the impact the Kairos archetype had on me, which was vastly different from the emotions these cards stirred in me. Then I realized Kairos is bigger than just me. It’s everyone in all of time; while these archetypes are more personal, they’re tools that I have to rely on myself to use and use properly.

    No one is one single archetype, and it’s okay to be uncomfortable with archetypes you want to embrace more. I also highly recommend figuring out which archetypes you don’t want to embrace, or the ones you want to moderate within yourself. Possessions won’t make me less alone when no one else is home and they certainly won’t help me feel less lonely, but that doesn’t mean I can’t embrace the Castle archetype when presented with a sparkly necklace from my husband.

  • A Year in Review and A Year in Preview

    A Year in Review and A Year in Preview

    Happy New Year!

    I’m sure most of us are glad to see the other end of 2020, but it’s not as though all the world’s problems disappeared at midnight because the calendar page flipped. For my part, I want to take more responsibility for myself and my place in the world and encourage others to do the same. I bought myself the Biddy Tarot Planner for 2021 and used the spread suggested to close one year and open the next.

    While I was performing this exercise, I followed the advice in the Planner and sat with each question and answered for myself. I then drew all eight cards and interpreted them intuitively. When I read tarot, I usually read Reversed cards with different implications than their Upright counterparts; the number of Reversed cards that came up in this reading indicated that internal work was done and needed doing, which makes sense given the introspection and realigning I did this year. Here’s my “Review and Preview!”

    Review

    What were my biggest achievements in 2020?

    XXI The World (Upright)

    • Not only did the isolation I experienced not crush me mentally, but there were also actually times I felt my mental and emotional health was better than before these events.
    • I realized that, despite the anxiety and depression that have been near-constant companions to me in my life, I’m an optimist, but I know not every situation will work out for the best for everyone.
    • My take on priorities has shifted. I still accept people aren’t required to have the same (or even similar) views, but I understand better now that not everyone will approach differing points of view with respect or open-mindedness.

    What were my biggest challenges in 2020?

    6 of Wands (Reversed)

    • Coming to terms with my views of “We’re all in this together” directly conflicting with others seeing scenarios as “Us versus Them.”
    • Returning to my retail job and being confronted with hostility or outright aggression while trying to keep everyone safe and healthy. It was more difficult than I had anticipated.

    How did I develop as a person in 2020?

    7 of Swords (Reversed)

    I feel the biggest way I’ve developed as a person was accepting not everything needs to be compared in intensity, but I can work to fix issues where I see too much disparity. The fact that the wealthiest people in the world earned over $1 trillion while others lost jobs or homes, or worked dangerous jobs for not enough compensation, or were told any number of trite phrases by individuals totally out of touch with the experiences of the people they were discussing was appalling.

    How does this relate to the 7 of Swords (Reversed)?

    I’m going to be vocal about how much this upsets me! It’s not going to come from Erin in her ivory tower, who passes judgements while allowing others to bear the brunt of making changes. I may not have made a fortune during 2020, but I was certainly fortunate, and I can use that to help others. Working with others is important, too. Not only does the man in the card look smug, but he’s also acting alone. Getting all the glory and riches from his get-rich-quick heist will work for him by himself; we need a way for everyone to benefit from hard work.

    What did I learn in 2020?

    2 of Cups (Reversed)

    There’s more emotional friction right under the surface than is often acknowledged. Pasting a smile over seething rage isn’t healthy or sustainable.

    How would I describe 2020 in three words?

    Page of Swords (Reversed)

    ☼ eye-opening                                     ☼ disconnected                                    ☼ extreme

    Preview

    What aspects of 2020 can I leave behind?

    3 of Cups (Upright)

    My interpretation of this card may not fall in line with many books you’ll read, but this is where my intuition stepped in and tapped me on the head. When I looked at this picture, I felt like a spectator. I didn’t feel myself in the image at all. It truly felt like the card was a pane of glass, and I was looking at something I desperately wanted but couldn’t reach through the barrier. I need to leave behind my resentment of what I feel I don’t have, the fear of going for it, which leads to apathy and lack of action, and behaving like a bystander to my own life. I want to connect with the people and causes I care about and actively support them.

    What aspects of 2020 can I bring with me into 2021?

    2 of Wands (Upright)

    For 2021 I want to bring with me this momentum for wanting to effect change. I want to be resilient when things don’t immediately work out or I don’t receive instant gratification for my efforts. The focus needs to be on the importance of these issues changing properly, not always on my timeline.

    What new seeds and opportunities are being planted?

    King of Wands (Reversed)

    This is another card that tells me my heart and imagination are going faster than things will happen. I want the world to change for me, my family, and the world, but I can’t march in and say, “This is how things are now because I said so,” and everything will be exactly how I want it. Long-lasting change will need to be built on firm foundations, but the foundations need to be completed first. Don’t flame out!

    To sum it all up…

    Let’s be kind to each other and make 2021 a step to the future we want to see!

  • Musings and a bit of a Plug

    Happy Thursday!

    I admit it, I’ve been absent. There’s a part in “Harry Potter” where Dumbledore asks Harry if he ever feels as though he has too many thoughts in his head and Harry doesn’t understand. I don’t understand how Harry doesn’t understand. It feels like there are constantly too many thoughts, or feelings, or possibilities running through my mind. I don’t like using the word normal because it’s an adjective that feels too vague and too narrow at the same time. Who defines normal? Is normal subjective? What word should I use instead, though? So, to me, feeling like I have too much going on in my head is how I usually feel and I guess I’ve never given the concept of not dealing with that much thought because I didn’t realise it’s something people experience. When I feel this way it’s very easy for me to withdraw into myself and dwell on things that aren’t the way I would like them to be. Sometimes, too, I find focussing on one thing (that may not actually be as pressing as other items) is an act of avoidance in itself.

    Another big issue of mine is that I don’t trust myself. This has been one of my biggest hurdles in my esoteric studies because so much of reading tarot is trusting your intuition. For so long I relied on books about tarot that were filled with the meanings of the cards according to the author. The problem with that approach was these interpretations were based on others’ experiences with the cards. While there are certain elements that remain consistent (or at least similar) across decks and it can be helpful to understand why those images were used in the first place, no one lives the exact same life in the exact same way.

    I’ve previously posted about the 4 of Swords—to many people this card indicates a rest, but when I pull this card from some decks I feel almost a false sense of security. This interpretation for myself comes from my distaste for being left alone with my thoughts. Swords is the Air suit so it pertains to the mental realm. When I’m by myself, my mind races which is why I’m usually doing something to keep myself occupied. Even as I write this, I have the television on in the background.

    My birthday was about 3 weeks ago. I love the date of my birthday if that makes any sense. June 21st is often recognised as the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year and the one with the most hours of daylight. This puts me directly on the cusp of Gemini and Cancer (Mutable Air and Cardinal Water) and, while I know there’s more to a natal chart than just a Sun sign, I feel I have traits of both. If you were to draw up a natal chart for my date/time/place of birth, it would tell you I’m a Gemini because the transit of the Sun from Gemini into Cancer had not yet occurred, but I really feel like both.

    Where I’m going with this talk about Sun signs is my feelings about the suit of Swords; sometimes it’s as though I’m almost afraid of them. When I think about the pictures on the Rider Smith Waite deck (arguably the most famous deck and template for myriad others), there are only two or three cards, excluding the Court cards, I don’t feel anxious drawing. The two definite ones are the Ace and 6 while the 4 is one I’m still trying to come to terms with for my own sake. The Ace of Swords speaks to me of the potential of a new idea before putting it into action on the material plane—you’re hopeful and you don’t have to worry about annoying little things like the laws of physics or financial logistics. On the other hand, when I see the 6, I feel the alleviation of burdens—moving from choppy waters into smooth sailing.

    We all have different takes on what we see in the cards shaped by life events. I’ve heard a number of people have difficulties with The Hierophant because not everyone has positive associations with organised religion or other institutions. Others who have strong feelings about government or, in the broader sense, the patriarchy may take exception to The Emperor because it can often symbolise authority figures who may traditionally have been male.

    Having a mental connection to a card that is unique to me isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it’s what will make a reading with me different from a reading with anyone else. I simply worry that the relationship I have with a card or specific image may impact the message I’m interpreting for someone. That’s when I get the Querent to tell me what they see or feel when looking at the card.

    Just in case I don’t post again before Saturday, I will be at an event in Tweed, Ontario, that day with a number of other readers, artisans, and vendors. If you’re in the area you should drop by!

    Peace and balance,

    Erin

  • Am I a Professional Now?

    For some reason I have been putting off writing this post. I’m not sure why, but it keeps being moved down my to-do list and not being crossed off. There’s nothing I’m dreading about this—in fact I feel it’s going to be a very positive piece—it just hasn’t been written. Here we go!

    January 26 (a Saturday) I went to another psychic fair like the one I participated in in October. If you don’t remember or know how that one worked out you should read my post about it and how dejected I was feeling afterwards. I had a mixture of hope and fear for this second fair because I had hope with there being be fewer readers possibly helping me attract more clients tempered by remembering just how badly I felt the first one went. I had already paid for my table at the fair and, since I was more familiar with other people working the fair this time, I went and figured it would simply be another learning experience. It was a learning experience for sure! I had double the amount of paying customers I had the first time which was nice even though it was only four. But I feel as though the clients were the lesson versus the whole event.

    My first Querent was kind of a drag honestly, and a terrible way to start the day. She paid me for the reading and proceeded to sit across the table from me with her arms crossed and her lips zipped. I do not claim to be anything I don’t feel I am because I hate the idea of overpromising and underdelivering which means I usually start a reading with a bit of a spiel cum disclaimer where I say I am not a medium or a mind reader, and that I like to have a discussion with the people I’m reading for so I can give more relevant information. She wanted to tell me nothing and just see what I was able to come up with. I can tell you I came up with very little. I felt as though I was throwing spaghetti at the wall and hoping something would stick. It didn’t feel great and I was even thinking about giving her a refund because she said nothing was resonating with her. I wrapped up the reading and as I was about to offer her her money back she said “I don’t believe in this anyway.” In that moment I decided not to refund her because she received what she had paid for. I don’t ask for the people I read for to take what the cards or I say as gospel, but I do expect them to come with an open mind and be receptive to the energy going into the reading even if I’m totally wrong. I will admit when I’m wrong or if I’m not feeling what I’m seeing; I will do another spread if they want or if I feel it’s necessary. But to come in with no intention of being open to what could be conveyed is disappointing and actually makes me kind of angry because you’re wasting your time and even if you have paid me I feel it’s a waste of my time. I won’t lie, when she left my table I felt very upset and probably angry (I have trouble processing the feeling of anger).

    I sat with my emotions for a little while until the gentleman who was working the table across from mine came over. He was so nice and encouraging. He said he had overheard much of my reading with the first lady and I hadn’t done anything wrong. I really appreciated his words and he paid for a reading that was more on point than the previous one.

    One of the best readings I think I’ve ever done was the next reading I performed. My client was a woman who I think was about my age and it was a super positive reading where even the cards that were more negative made sense. The final card I drew in the reading was The Star which made me smile because she was so sweet and it was nice to end the reading on a positive note.

    My final reading was not as positive, but she came with a heavy heart and I think I gave her some good insights. The reading was over the 15-20 minute guideline given, I just really wanted to help her. At the end of the reading she cried so I feel like it was a good one.

    While I was at the fair I met a couple of women who wanted someone to come read at a party on Super Bowl Sunday. I don’t care about football so I gave them a price for 4-5 half hour readings and said I would love to be a part of their festivities. I heard from them pretty quickly and they decided to book me!

    The whole experience on Sunday was amazing! I had a great time doing the readings and they fed me some delicious things. I did spend more time there than I had anticipated which I think is because I still don’t value myself and my time as being worth much. I do not regret it, though, because they were lovely.

    My biggest disappointment was with myself because I feel after I ate dinner I didn’t give myself any time to centre myself and refocus my energy. The two readings I performed after eating went fine, but I had to do them both twice. I wasn’t connecting with what the cards were trying to tell me. Both ladies were fine with it and very patient with me, I just feel bad and unprofessional.

    There you have it, the post I kept putting off writing. If you can figure out what was blocking me from putting it into words you can have a cookie.

    Peace and balance,

    Erin

  • New Year’s Eve Reading

    Happy New Year!

    I did a reading for my year in review. I did not create this spread, but I liked it so I used it.

    1. What can I celebrate?: King of Cups
    2. What have I conjured?: Queen of Cups, Reversed
    3. What continues?: 3 of Cups
    4. How do I find balance and expression?: Knight of Swords
    5. What am I thinking?: 9 of Cups, Reversed
    6. What is my passion?: 8 of Cups, Reversed
    7. Where am I grounded?: 2 of Wands, Reversed
    8. What have I changed?: 4 of Cups, Reversed

    The first thing I notice is the prevalence of Cups cards which I think makes a lot of sense because I’m a very emotional person, and that seeps into every aspect of my life and interactions with my surroundings. Secondly, many of the cards are Reversed; in my opinion the significance of all the Reversed cards is that I spent a lot of time looking inward this year. I’m trying to find my passion and get back to who I was or find who I could be which is a very personal path to take.

    The first card I drew was the King of Cups answering the question “What can I celebrate?” To me, the King of Cups is a sign that things I have invested my emotions in have matured. In 2017 I had a new baby and my husband and I were trying to figure out how to parent and fit in other aspects of our lives. In 2018, on the other hand, we were a little surer in our abilities to keep a tiny human alive, and we were able to see how we can be suitable partners for each other while also fulfilling parenting roles. The King of Cups is Air of Water (Kings are associated with the element of Air and Cups is the suit of Water), which brings a sort of cerebral quality to the emotions. I’m not so much detached as able to step back from emotions and bring reason to them. The Queen of Cups, Reversed, in the “What have I conjured?” position sort of brings the point from the King of Cups home. I feel as though it reinforces the idea that I can feel my emotions, but I do not have to be at their mercy. I’ve conjured a more stable, balanced viewpoint for myself.

    I have the 3 of Cups in the “What continues?” position and it’s a really positive card there. What continues for me is my support system. There are so many amazing people in my life that contribute to my wellbeing. I just know this is a reminder to cultivate those relationships and appreciate them. This concept continues with the next card because I am certain this relates to my husband (one of my staunchest supporters). The Knight of Swords is how I find balance and expression. I’ve mentioned before that I am a very emotional person. Well, my husband is very analytical; he’s logical and people definitely say he has a good head on his shoulders. Does he balance out my impulsive, emotion-driven actions and thinking? Absolutely!

    The 9 of Cups, Reversed, does reflect what I’m thinking these days. This card can be considered the wish card. I have had so many blessings bestowed on me and I am trying to be more grateful for the gifts I have been given, but all I seem to be able to focus on is the negative. It is important for me to realize the amazing things and people I have in my life and not take them for granted. My passion is represented by the 8 of Cups, Reversed, and I interpret this as needing to get back to what I love or even just looking for something I love. In the card, there is a figure walking away from the goblets, but when it’s Reversed I think it could be returning to what stokes my emotions and interest. I think the 2 of Wands, Reversed, shows me that I am grounded in the past. If this card were Upright, I feel it would show me grounded in the future like the figure on the card looking out at what may come. I don’t believe being grounded in the past is a good thing because I am stuck there a lot of the time. I don’t want to live like that which I think ties in to my interpretation of the 9 of Cups, Reversed, where I need to be more grateful for what and who I have in my life. Finally, we come to what I have changed–the 4 of Cups, Reversed. I’m trying to interpret this one, but I feel like it’s more about what I need to change rather than what I have changed. Maybe it’s my mindset that has shifted and now I just need to walk the walk because I’ve been talking the talk. Here’s hoping to a positive 2019!!!

    Peace and balance,
    Erin

  • 8 of Wands, Reversed

    I drew the 8 of Wands, Reversed, this morning to see what it could tell me about my day. The 8 of Wands can mean blockage and even marital trouble. Honestly, I didn’t think it would be a good day, but luckily it didn’t go so badly.

    Astrologically the 8 of a Wands is affiliated with Mutable Fire, the sign of Sagittarius, which happens to be the sign the Sun is in this time of year. I have difficulty with Fire signs sometimes because they seem so different from who I am. Mutable I can understand—Mutable Gemini is one of signs I’m on the cusp of—but I think Fire is so passionate and lively that it’s foreign to me.

    My day did not play out as negatively as I thought it might when I drew this Reversed card. There was no big discord between myself and my husband which was my fear. The feeling of being blocked is not a stranger to me these days so I suppose that’s what the card was picking up on.

    I’m also wondering if the card is signifying the end of my funk is near. I wonder this because 8 is near the end of the sequence of numbers in the pip cards of the tarot. Sure, I’m hoping to not feel so lost and adrift in life, but the blocked sensation leaves me with a feeling both oppressively full of despair and strangely devoid of emotion.

    Here’s hoping tomorrow brings something a little clearer to interpret and more positive.

    Peace and balance,

    Erin