Honoring Lady Justice: A Card for the 4th of July

The Justice card from the Connolly Tarot

Does she look familiar, this crowned woman of quiet strength and profound wisdom?

She has had many names in many civilizations, but whether you call her Lady Justice or Lady Liberty, she represents balance in both a personal moral sense and a universal natural one. She is the personification of freedom in thought and word and deed, which means she also personifies our collective responsibility to fairness and mercy, and to each other.

Liberty for all or liberty for none.

Justice is a fitting card for the week following the 4th of July, Independence Day in the United States. On this day 248 years ago, we codified the great experiment that is America, an imperfect construction, yes. But on that day, we also committed to be ever moving forward, ever pursuing a more perfect union.

"I do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways; I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by conscience. And from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice." — Theodore Parker

The tarot has many queenly figures in it. Each suit has its reigning feminine monarch (for four in all) plus there are several major arcana cards traditionally depicting women upon thrones, including Lady Justice.

Wisdom. Clarity. Fairness. Consequence. These are the values associated with this card. She carries both a sword, representing severity, and scales, representing mercy. She is not blindfolded, however. She is objective, yes, but her sense of fair play comes from being able to see a situation deeply and clearly. How else is she to prevent a conniving thumb from sneaking onto those golden balances? How else will she ensure that the verdict she renders is truly right and not simply legal?

And that is what she asks of us now, not the detached disinterest of the scale, nor the edged vindication of the sword—Justice requires that we keep our eyes wide open.

This is how the arc of the universe bends, after all. Not through passive inaction. Not by simply trusting that everything will work itself out. This arc is bent by the work of hands. But before we act, we must choose the right and correct action. This is the true work of Justice.

This week, consider how you can help bend the arc of the Universe. What small action can you take to move yourself—and therefore the entire Universe—toward that result?

Previously, I said of Justice, "You already have the long-enough lever—she's simply showing you where you might stand." That sounds exactly right for this moment too.

I hope you had a peaceful and profound 4th of July, my friends. May it be so next year as well.

* * *

To learn more about the Connolly deck: https://www.usgamesinc.com/connolly-tarot.html

Read more about Columbia, one of the US’s earliest symbolic personifications: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/before-lady-liberty-lady-columbia-180982722/

Read more about the Statue of Liberty at the National Park Service website: https://www.nps.gov/stli/index.htm

Review of The Science Tarot by Logan Austeja Daniel, Martin Azevedo, and Raven Hanna

*This review first appeared at The Mojito Literary Society, and it describes why I consider the Science Tarot to be the perfect blend of data and divination. It's gorgeous, cohesive, and wonderful for readings, and even better, you can still find this deck for sale at the Science Tarot website.

This Christmas, I was excited to find a tarot deck from my engineer hubby under the tree. Even better, it was a deck that managed to combine the awe and wonder of the material universe with the mystery and magic of the tarot. I am having a great time reading about the creation of the Science Tarot, but an even better time working with the cards.

The key to making this combination of seemingly contradictory systems work is structure. Both science and tarot are highly organized, orderly collections of information. Both involve a progression that feels linear, but which is actually a series of cycles. The difference between the two is the main perceptual lens—science uses logic and data analysis, and tarot uses intuition and subconscious processing. That's a bit reductive as an explanation, but as the Ace of Scalpels (Swords) points out, reductionism is a valid method for comprehension. It's part of the seeker's toolkit. It's just not the only part.

Like a traditional Smith-Waite tarot deck, the Science Tarot is broken into the major arcana and the minor arcana. Likewise, the minor arcana are broken up into four thematic suits, which each contain numbered cards ace through ten, plus four court cards. The difference is in the nomenclature. For example, in traditional tarot, these suits are called Wands (Energy), Cups (Emotion), Swords (Intellect), and Pentacles (Physicality). The Science Tarot uses Bunsen Burners (Creation—astronomy and cosmology), Beakers (Integration—biology and ecology), Scalpels (Observation—physics and math) and Magnifying Glasses (Exchange—geology and chemistry).

For example, the Nine of Pentacles (represented in this deck by the Magnifying Glass) is Aurora, the stream of energized particles accelerating along Earth's magnetic lines that cast off excited electrons in the upper atmosphere, creating the mythic glow of the Northern Lights. This card in both decks represents the release of outdated things and ideas, leaving only the refined and cultivated newness behind. This process often entails sacrifice, but it is worth it for the end result.

Instead of Pages, Knights, Queens, and Kings, the Science Tarot present Explorers, Innovators, Storytellers, and Visionaries. For example, Carl Sagan is the Queen of Wands, the Storyteller whose intelligence and empathy welcomed others into scientific discovery.

The Major Arcana tells famous stories from science, or as the deck describes it, "shared experiences and moments of transformation." In traditional decks, these are the cards of grand archetypal experiences, the "big stuff" we all discover as we grow and evolve as human beings. For example, the Empress in traditional decks is represented here as Mendel's Peas. But both cards represent nurturing attendance and natural processes, a time for growth, patience, and gestation.

By honoring the connection that science and myth share—the wonder and awe that occur as we attempt to understand this universe and who we are within it—the Science Tarot creates a bridge for skeptics who might dismiss the power of this ancient divination tool. Plus, it's just gorgeous, with each of the five sections rendered by a different artist, providing continuity within each suit and creating a tapestry of lush imagery overall.

I highly recommend this deck for both tarot beginners and more experienced readers. And it's especially useful for introducing someone who is maybe a little weirded out by tarot's "woo-woo" reputation to the power of their own subconscious.

To read more about the Science Tarot—or to order it—visit the website: https://www.sciencetarot.com/cards.html

You can also like the Science Tarot Facebook group:
https://www.facebook.com/sciencetarot

A Tarot Card for the Spring Equinox

I’m not sure what the groundhog said back on February 2nd, but regardless of that particular rodent’s prognostications, we were always going to have an early spring, at least calendar-wise. That’s because the Vernal Equinox, traditionally hailed as the day when winter departs and spring arrives, will be on Tuesday, March 19th at 11:06 pm EDT.

We have February 29th to thank for that, as the equinox typically occurs on March 20th or 21st. But not always. That’s because our calendar and the Earth’s rotation are not perfectly aligned. So we have to adjust our portion of the process:

From the BBC: “The Mathematical Muddle Created by Leap Years”

As a rule of thumb, leap days come around every four years. But there are exceptions to this rule. For example, at the turn of every century we miss a leap year. Even though the year is divisible by four, we don't add a leap day in the years that end in 00. But there's an exception to this rule too. If the year is a multiple of 400 then we do add in an extra leap day again. At the turn of the millennium, despite being divisible by 100, the year 2000 did, in fact, have a 29 February because it was also divisible by 400.

The Eight of Beakers

Regardless of the calendar, spring sets her own pace. And the equinox, with its roughly equal days and nights, is a great time to contemplate cycles and seasons and out place within them.

To celebrate this equinox, I chose the Eight of Cups from the Science Tarot (you can read my review of that fantastic deck HERE). The Science Tarot uses different names than the Smith-Waite tarot—you’ll notice from the photo that this card uses a beaker instead of a cup as its icon—but the meanings remain comparable even if they are interpreted through the lens of their respective scientific fields (in the case of cups, those fields are biology and ecology).

In traditional tarot, the Eight of Cups of about moving on after a loss, releasing yourself to a new experience. There are shadows of pain in this card—grief will follow you like a lonesome dog, no matter how cleanly you try to cut yourself free—and the Eight of Cups acknowledges this difficulty.

The Cocoon card takes this idea of “leaving the old behind” and references the next step in the process: transformation. Cocoon time is active, not passive. It is both chemical and alchemical.

As the Science Tarot describes it:

Encased within a protective cocoon during its transformation, the caterpillar utterly loses its form. Every cell takes on a new purpose, and for a time the creature is neither caterpillar nor moth. Only when metamorphosis is complete does the stunningly beautiful Luna moth emerge from its cocoon and spread its wings to the sky. Times of transformation can demand a protective distance from the world, a total retreat. When the dissolution and recovery is complete, the world's challenges are not so threatening. Until that time, growth must take place in safe isolation.

I like this reframe, which centers the literal and metaphorical shapeshifting inherent to this card. It's not an easy or pretty process. But in the end, you’ll discover fresh new wings.

May your equinox bring balance and harmony to your life, and may you experience a transformation that enlightens, enriches, and energizes you for the coming spring.

A Tarot Card for the Winter Solstice: the Hermit

This year, the winter solstice occurs on December 21st, with the solstice moment happening at exactly 10:27 EST. Also known as Yule, it marks the longest night and the shortest day of the year, when the sun seems to stand still in the sky. As such, it is a time when many religions and cultures ponder the natural cycles of dark and light and rebirth.

Many seasonal symbols today have roots in winter solstice rituals — lighting candles and bonfires, burning the yule log, decorating with mistletoe and holly and evergreens. Feasting and singing are also traditional, especially the sharing of the wassail punch and the ringing of bells to welcome back the strengthening sun. The celebrations often lasted for twelve days, much like the carol “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” an echo of the ancient belief that the sun actually did pause in the sky for twelve days.

It is our human inclination on this, the longest night, to gather with our friends and family, to make merry and celebrate warmth both literally and metaphorically. But the solstice is, as its name reveals, a time to honor stillness. It is the energy of The Hermit, the card of solitude, introspection, and soul seeking, a card that urges us to slow down, take stock, look within.

The Earth herself is moving into the dark time, the cool time, the time of shadows. Humanity has created a million ways to pretend this isn't happening. We turn up the lights, sing louder, drape tinsel, laugh and plan and move hither and yon, busy and busier.

This holiday season, consider the bear. Bears know how to hermit better than anybody, so start planning the ways that you can honor your inner ursine. Plump the cushions in your cave. Make ready to spend some time in luxurious hibernation. It is a fact of our culture that one must carve away solitude, carve it like Michelangelo freeing the angel from the marble.

But do carve. Because the angel is there. And The Hermit promises to help you find it.

PS: Still looking for a gift for that special someone? Consider a certificate for a tarot reading. There’s no better way to start the new year, and right now I’ve got all my hour-long readings on sale. But hurry! Like 2023, this offer ends at midnight on December 31st!

The Nightmare Before Christmas Tarot

This time of year, during this most spooky of seasons, I let the growing darkness and cooler temperatures inspire my tarot practice. I usually lay out the cards following the Wheel of the Year — which means major spreads eight times a year for the two solstices, the two equinoxes, and the four cross-quarter holidays — with my favorite of these being the Halloween/Samhain spread.

My Samhain work is usually solemn, as befits a time of remembrance, for this is when we pay special reverence to our departed loved ones. This practice occurs all over the world, in varied cultures, and is a time to not only acknowledge what we have lost, but be grateful for that which remains.

To balance the emotional heaviness that memorializing often brings, we need some levity, some lightness. And that is where Halloween comes in. Though most often celebrated as a secular holiday that is mostly about costumes and candy, it has its roots in the older significance—the word “Halloween” itself comes from All Hallows Eve, a night important in several Christian traditions, including Catholicism, for its focus on honoring the dead.

This season, I’m pulling out my newest deck—The Nightmare Before Christmas tarot. If you’re looking for a deck that manages to be both spooky and sweet, this one certainly delivers. Bonus points if you’re a fan of the movie, because understanding its characters—Jack and Sally, of course, but also the other citizens of Halloween Town—as they quest and search and yearn for meaning and identify will provide further shades of meaning as you seek to interpret the cards.

Take The Lovers, for example. Of course it features Jack and Sally, our star-crossed couple who finally find love at the end. And such deep love is a central theme of the card, true enough, but The Lovers is also a card about making choices, specifically, making the right choice, the one that serves your highest good. Spoiler alert—Sally ALWAYS knew that choosing Jack was the right thing to do; Jack, however, had to do a little heroic journeying to reach that very same conclusion (which he did!).

And who could forget Zero, the adorable ghost pup with the glowing nose? He does more than provide adorableness—his devotion and dedication to Jack points our protagonist in the right direction on more than one occasion. Which is why seeing Zero as The Star makes so much sense, as the Star is about keeping the faith. It’s about keeping your eyes on what matters and keeping your feet on the path toward that ultimate goal.

And what of The World, the final card in the Major Arcana, the culmination of the previous twenty-one cards? In this deck it is represented by the forest at the beginning of the movie, the one Jack explores in his ennui, seeking meaning beyond what he has known his entire existence only to discover that the true meaning lies right where he began. The power to realize this was—like those famous red slippers in another movie about journeying forth and then returning home again—with him all along.

So if you’re looking to add another deck to your collection, give The Nightmare Before Christmas tarot a try. It’s got some tricks, but it’s mostly treats, and you’re guaranteed to find some sweet surprises inside.

Comment YES on this post and then click the button below to enter the drawing for a free three-card reading with this deck!

When Death Kindly Stops for Us

One morning many years ago, my daughter and I baked bread to take to a family in bereavement. I pulled out an old family recipe, transcribed decades ago by my thirteen-year-old hand. Eventually my kitchen was fragrant with yeast, the oven warming as the loaves finished their second rising.

In another season, that flour was not the sifted pale powder in my kitchen — it was thousands of whole grains waiting to be milled and processed. And before that, it was growing in a green field until it was mowed down by the combine, gathered and collected. Seeding and growing, reaping and harvest.

Death is often referred to as a Reaper and presented as such in the tarot — a pale rider on a pale horse, children and kings and priests alike falling before him. There is certainly a frightful aspect to the card, and to all losses, especially those of people we love, who have loved us. But there is also a promise. In the tarot, Death may be a reaper, but he bears a reminder of the season of renewal as well—the white rose on the banner, the symbol of the soul and rebirth. For this card describes not a singular moment, but a process. One step in the cycle.

And there is a kindness to Death, noted by Emily Dickenson and other poets. It’s one of the reasons I am fond of how the card in portrayed in The Phantomwise Tarot — a young woman, her face hidden behind a cheerful umbrella. her scythe lying lightly across her lap.

Many years ago, I explored the Death card in a pilgrimage to Antietam, the site of the bloodiest day in Civil War history. I expected to feel some kind of horror there, some pervasive sadness, on that once battlefield, now farm. But the sky was blue and the fields were green and the corn in the field grew high and strong. That night, I dreamed of the Death card, and I wrote about that dream in my journal the next day:

"It is an unsettling card, Death—the black robes, the complacent relentless skull. In the dream, though, I flip it over and reverse it, and the image is now a chalice, overflowing with water, emptying and receiving simultaneously. Death is not static. It moves too, with time, a point on a continuum that really isn't a point, that is as fluid and forward moving as life. The two are inextricable."

And so my daughter and I baked bread, the sun barely risen. And we gave thanks for life and for the harvest, kneaded that gratitude into each loaf. For everything there is a time and place. Tomorrow I will write. I will connect once again with the work that nourishes my soul. And though I did not eat any of the bread we made, it nourished me too.

I have heard it said that love is attention. As writers, it is our job to pay attention, so this week, do it well. Be grateful big and be grateful small, for both the expanding edge of the universe and a fresh new page. For the rising sun and the cup of coffee. And for whatever love surrounds you, for surround you it surely does.

Here Comes The Sun!

image @philipmackie

Happy Summer Solstice! (for those of you in the Northen Hemisphere anyway)

Often celebrated as the longest day of the year, the summer solstice (like its counterpart the Winter Solstice) takes its name from two Latin-language morphemes: sol (sun) and -stitium (stoppage). This meaning refers to the Sun’s apparent stillness in the sky, which is a trick of perspective, as the Sun doesn’t actually move, it’s the Earth speeding around in a wobbly circle like a big spaceship held together with gravity and cosmic glue.

Despite our persistent geocentric attitude, the Sun is the center of this galaxy. And on Wednesday, June 21, 2023 at 10:57 am EDT, we Earthlings will celebrate the solstice moment. Which is when, to quote National Geographic, “a planet’s poles are most extremely inclined toward or away from the star it orbits.” On Earth, that star is our Sun.

On this year’s Summer Solstice, Southeast Georgia will have 14 hours, 15 minutes, and 7 seconds of daylight, one second more than the day before, and two seconds more than the day after (you can see the specifics for your own home base HERE). It’s a perfect time to remember the Sun’s importance in our lives, both literally and symbolically.

In a natural sense, the Sun is the engine of our universe. Without it, Earth would be a lifeless hunk of rock, spinning and sterile in a cold empty sky. But with it, we have life. A brilliantly simple equation.

The Sun card in the Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck

Such it is with The Sun card in the tarot. If you were looking for a yes, the Sun is about as affirmative as it can get. If you needed a jolt of optimism or vitality, turn your face toward it like a flower. If you've been feeling sluggish or out of sorts, let the heart of our very own personal star, our own solar combustion machine, energize you.

And if you've become disconnected from your playful, innocent, hopeful self, then The Sun has a special message for you. As creative folk, we appreciate the importance of joy in our lives and in our work. Those are hard to cultivate sometimes in the world of the one-star review and the hateful e-mail and the snarky blog post. Everybody's got a criticism, it seems, and some weeks, every single piece of it seems to be coming right at you.

The Sun shines on the crazy and the cruel too, even if they can't feel its warmth. Pity them that. But this does not diminish the radiance being bestowed on you. The Sun is an impartial and generous lover. And it loves you very much. Smile for it, won't you?

PS: You can get your own reading this summer, including my Cycles and Seasons reading, which is 30% off at my tarot shop.

Three Tarot Cards for the Spring Equinox

The Empress, the Four of Wands, and the Two of Swords.

During the vernal and autumnal equinoxes, the Earth is in balance. Day and night being roughly equal, our 24-hour rotation pirouettes as precisely as a ballet dancer. For while the spring equinox is technically a moment—a split second flash gone before we can fully experience it—spring itself is a season. A cycle. A time of combustion and creation.

To remind me of the energies at play, I chose three cards from three separate decks. They were not drawn randomly—I picked the cards that best represent to me what it means to be galloping through spring. I hope they have something to offer you too.

Left—The Empress (from The Llewellyn Tarot)

Represented here by the Welsh goddess Rhiannon, The Empress symbolizes the archetypal energies of creation and fertility. She heralds a time when everything is bright and blooming, a perfect opportunity to ponder what you’d like to bring into this world. The first step is kindling your own creative spark, tapping that primal power the way that flowers photosynthesize in the sunshine.

Center—The Four of Wands (from The Steampunk Tarot)

The suit of Wands is associated with the element of fire, but in this card, that runaway flame is contained and tended, just for a moment. This card encourages us to pause in our busy-ness and savor a moment of celebration. What is it you have to be grateful for this moment? What ordinary moment can be transformed into an extraordinary one with a bit of attention and appreciation?

Right—The Two of Swords (from Thalia Took’s A-Musing Grace Tarot Gallery)

The Two of Swords has a reputation for being a card of indecision, but I find its energy to be quite different, as Thalia Took’s imagery illustrates. For me, the Two of Swords is about balance, which is—as all the sages remind us—a verb, not a noun. An action verb. And since all actions start with intention, best get yours sharp and on point. Gather your energy. This equinox, as the Earth moves and we move with it, contemplate your own balancing act. Is there something you’d like to accomplish that you haven’t yet set your mind to? Feel that moment just before you decide—the moment just before you act. Savor the potential of it. Breathe through it. Then…act.

PS: If you would like a tarot reading to start this new season, click the button below to visit my tarot page and read all about my spring offerings.

And Lo, The Star

Image by Thalia Took at the A-Muse-ing Grace Gallery

On December 21st, we will once again celebrate Yule, the Winter Solstice.

Every year, in the heart of the longest night, we wait for the Child of Light. We open ourselves to the miracle. We gather in faith and truth and love, and we remember.

And every year, this is my guiding card: The Star.

We have been here before and will be here again. Such is the way of our universe—nothing is lost and everything returns. And while we might have puzzled out a few equations in the scientific clockwork of it all, the unfolding whole remains a mystery.

The Star is a big card, as big as hope, because at its heart, it's a card of movement. But not celestial movement. Your movement. Which means it's a matter of perspective. For no matter how much the stars seem to move, it's really Earth that's moving.

I feel these turnings, these vast ancient circles within circles. From my tiny finite standing place, the moon wanes, the sun waxes, and the stars move across the sky in their precise predictable courses.

These are illusions, of course, human perspectives that mark me as part of the cycle and not separate from it. For the moon does not grow or shrink, the sun blazes as steady now as it did at the height of summer, and the constellations do not wheel and turn above me.

It is Earth that tilts and whirls, the same earth that feels so steady beneath me. Another illusion, this steadiness, for the Earth and I (and you) are plummeting through space at 66,000 miles an hour. The stars are at the tumbling edge of the expanding universe, and as I gaze at the indigo horizon on this longest of nights, I offer thanksgiving, a wordless circle of gratitude that extends in rings around me.

This Winter Solstice, may gratitude be a force for love in your world, and in all worlds. May your days be filled with wonder and your nights with enough light to guide you home.

Blessed be, y'all. See you in 2023!

To Reverse, or Not to Reverse?

Jackie Hope @jackieboylhart

In tarot, a reversal is where a card is dealt upside down instead of upright in a standard deck. There are several schools of thought on reversals.

One way of reading them is that the card has a different, almost opposite meaning. If the explanatory book that you are using (whether it came with the deck or is a more general tarot guide) lists reversal meanings, that's usually what you see. If the Six of Wands (a card of achievement) is upside-down, then it becomes a card of failure.

Some people don't use reversals — they either shuffle the deck in a way that keeps all the cards upright or flip them before they start reading. One of my tarot teachers uses the Thoth deck, which has no reversals — each card contains the potential meanings both positive and negative.

Consider The Devil card, often associated with taboo. That sounds bad on the surface, but sometimes exploring beyond societal expectation can free you from a mindset that's trapping you. Sometimes, however, you can violate social norms in ways that harm yourself or others.

The important question is this: what is this Devil trying to tell you at this particular time?

In my thinking, it depends more on the querent, the question, and the surrounding cards than whether that one card is upright or not. I read tarot for information, not fortune-telling. I don’t believe any specific future is carved in stone. Like Ebeneezer Scrooge, I ponder why, in that case, would the tarot show me anything? If there is no way out, if I am on the Express Train to Destiny, then why give me any false hope that I can exert any free will on the situation?

And I am a BIG believer in free will. I read tarot for information, yes, but also empowerment — a chance to use that information.

So you don't have to read reversals at all — just know that each card contains all expressions of its energy and decide which feels appropriate to the current situations. For readers (like me) who use a narrative, intuitive approach, this philosophy opens up readings in astounding ways.

I do note the overall number of reversed cards (half is average) and if the ratio is more or less, I pay attention. Less reversals can mean a clearer overall path, more can mean blockages and obstruction along the way.

And I do note which cards are reversed. I don't read the card's meaning differently, but I do consider if that energy might be being blocked or not coming through as strongly as possible for some reason. Another consideration is that the card's shadow energy is being expressed. Consider the Four of Pentacles, which is about protecting resources, especially those that matter to us like time and attention and finances. But if the Four of Pentacles were reversed, I might consider if there's some selfishness, over-protectiveness, or greed being expressed. NOT the opposite meaning — just a different flavor.

Experiment and see what feels right to you. That’s the key to tarot — discovering what techniques best serve you whether reading for yourself or others. And you can only discover that by getting your cards out on a regular basis.

For more information on reversals, I recommend Joan Bunning’s Learning Tarot Reversals. And I liked the way intuitive reader David Harvey explains the concept in his piece “Tarot Reversals: 3 Ways To Read” at Tarot Avenue.

Happy reading!

What To Expect from a Tarot Reading

Airis Nikolaeva @airis_n

Relax. It's not woo-woo.

My philosophy of tarot is grounded in intuition, the idea that you already have your own answers but may need a way to tap that personal wisdom. So I won't be casting spells or lighting incense or waving my hands around with my eyes closed.

What I do is this:

Before we actually start putting cards down, I'll ask you to think of what question you'd like to ask, or even if you want to ask a specific question at all. Some people just want what I call a "snapshot" of their lives at the present moment, a look at the various energies and forces at play and how they work together or work against each other. But if you have an area of specific concern — say, a job or relationship issue — I'll help you frame the question in a way that will get you the most useful information (and remember, in tarot, it's only fair to ask about yourself, not peek into other people's lives).

And if you’d prefer to keep your question to yourself, I can work with that. In these cases, you'll have to do more of the work, for while I can share possible interpretations, you'll be the one connecting the dots in the end. But that’s actually the “secret” of tarot — the querent is doing the hardest work, not the reader.

Next, we choose a spread (this is what a pattern of cards is called, with various meanings assigned to each card position). There are many different spreads to choose from, from one-card spreads to multi-branching fifteen-card spreads (or even spreads that use the entire deck, which is some INTENSE work). Which spread we choose depends on what kind of information the querent (that's the person getting the reading) wants to know. Some work well for comparing and contrasting two ideas — others show a central issue and all of the forces affecting it.

Next, we choose a deck. I have several decks for you to choose from — I want you to pick one that resonates with you. I use traditional decks in the sense that each has 78 cards broken into two categories, with one of those categories broken down into four suits, each suit consisting of ace through ten, with four court cards (like face cards in a regular deck). But aside from that, they're wildly different.

You are also welcome to bring your own deck to the reading (even virtual ones — I’ll simply lay down matching cards at my end, and we’ll discuss).

During the reading, our first step is to get comfortable with each other and the cards. I’ll ask if you have any questions or concerns. If you’d like to tweak your query, this is the time to do so.

Then, when you’re ready, we shuffle the deck. There’s no one correct way to do this. When I’m using my own cards, I do what I call the “mud pie” shuffle — just spread all the cards out in a pile and move them around randomly, like a kid playing in the dirt. But for your cards? You do you. As long as you have sufficiently randomized the cards, you’re good to go.

When you feel as if you've shuffled the cards enough — and for me there’s an energetic shift; that’s when I know the deck is “ready” — either you or I will cut the deck into three stacks and then restack them in any order that feels appropriate.

Now it's time to lay out the spread.

Once I have the cards laid out — one in each position — I'll flip them over and see what's there. At this point I'll give you an overview of the reading, noting what issues I see in the overall spread. This is where I take notice of patterns: the ratio of upright to reversed, projective to receptive, major arcana to minor to courts cards, plus how many of each suit are represented.

And then we card to card. I'll explain what each card means, how it functions within that particular position, and how it relates to your question (and to other cards).

You get to ask questions. I do too. So you'll hear a lot of "Does this make sense to you?" or "Is there anything in your situation that relates to this idea?" Like I said, I'm not psychic. My job is to help you see the patterns in the information, and the more I know, the better I can help you.

When we're done, I'll sum everything up. You get to ask more questions. And then we're done. If you'd like a record of your spread, I can also email that to you as a jpeg file. As for virtual readings on Zoom, we can record the entire reading, and I’ll share the video with you. Follow-up questions — even weeks or months later — are welcome.

And that's it. No woo-woo (unless you like woo-woo -- in that case, let me know and we'll talk woo-woo afterward).