Tarot & You
by Mystique Moonlight
Many years ago I learnt that I could read people. No not the kind of thing where you watch their body language or their hidden gestures. No gazing intently into palms deciphering the lines. I could just hold their hand and tell them things about themselves they probably didn't want to know or thought they kept well hidden. Great at parties!
After exploring this further and after many accurate readings, I thought there really must be more to it. Why can I do this? What's the purpose of all this? My sister had "dabbled" in Runes and Tarot since the 1970's often reciting many "tall dark men" and "your search for true love" scenarios to friends and family members. My readings however seem to get to a core somehow. I could bring a genuine tear or a nervous smile simply by holding the querent's hand, but why?
Then one day whilst wondering around looking for a way to spend another months salary I wondered into one of those little shops that sell crystals with a light shoved inside to make it glow, little plastic fairy wands, far too many incense sticks burning and a woman seated behind the counter who really should have given that look up (I mean the 70's are well and truly over). As I looked into the glass cabinet filled with all manner of tumbled stones, little Buddha statues and tiny wooden boxes I was drawn to a colourful box. The picture was of a crow and the word atop said Tarot.
I remember sitting on my bed excitedly tearing away the plastic seal to take out the cards contained inside the box. The pictures were unfamiliar as a matter of fact the whole concept of Tarot was unfamiliar. Well I say that, but in actual fact I thought I could learn that spread in the LWB (little white book) and I would be a Tarot reader. But it wasn't meant to be or at least I soon discovered there was more to it than that.
I read that LWB over and over. I tried to remember all those meanings, but I was never any good at disciplining a course of study and memorisation techniques. I fell into dismay. These cards are just a gimmick, a party trick. So I decided to attempt a more scientific approach. I was going to investigate what exactly this thing called Tarot was all about.
After reading a dozen books I still had no definitive answers. Those darn pictures still meant nothing to me! Then I recalled reading how sometimes a deck may appeal to different people in different ways, so I started to build my Tarot collection.
Have you ever sat there with your deck spread out in front of you wandering what the heck you should to do next? Why some people can rattle off wonderful readings with so much detail? Why is it you've read so many books, talked to so many "experienced" readers and you still don't seem to be able to give confident readings?
I had a deck that was recommended to me. I loved that deck (Haindl). The pictures were dream like, artistic, surreal. But I just could not get a hold of reading with them. Sure I watched many Tarot readers and I read a lot of books, I should be able to read now. I thought this as I lay on my bed one raining Autumn afternoon. It was cold out, the rain beating against my window, the late afternoon was beginning to succumb to the early evening. The electric heater was warming my room as the soft amber light on my night stand glowed in the fading daylight of the late afternoon sun. I had my favourite Haindl card in my hand (High Priestess).
I recall the glow of the sphere on that card pulsating as the High Priestess open her arms to me. I remember a stream of water and that soft trickling sound. The earth beneath my feet was soft and warm. As I approached her lips parted as if to beckon to me with words I could not hear. The sphere glowed brighter and began to feel warm against my face. I recall squinting my eyes against the brightness of it's light as I looked to the High Priestess to hear what it was she had to say. Then darkness and in that darkness a single word……. "READ".
Did I just have a dream? Maybe I should turn that electric heater down. How interesting I thought.
The following day I decided to lay on my bed and leaf through my deck again. I stopped at the Hanged Man. I stared intently at that card for sometime. What is this card? Why was he hanging upside down like this? Then he began to smile at me. Not just smile while hanging there, but his gaze fell upon mine and his smile broadened. I heard the rustle of leaves as a soft breeze swept through his tumbled hair. The brilliance of the rainbow colours glowed brighter behind him. I squinted against the brightness of the rainbow as the Hanged Man silhouetted before it. Then darkness again and a word "READ".
I had begun my journey into the Tarot. For many months I spent entering the Tarot. The journey thus far is still continuing. The insight is far more than any LWB or well authored book could offer me. Sometimes when I feel troubled rather than do a spread I relax, close my eyes and wait for the Tarot to offer me advice.
Often students of Tarot will ask "How do you remember all those meanings". My reply is "Meanings? Whose meanings are you trying to remember?"
© Mystique Moonlight
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