Man, I gotta tell you, for the longest time, my whole take on love and relationships felt like trudging through a muddy field on a cloudy day. You know that feeling? Just kinda squishy, uncertain, and you’re always checking your shoes for crap. I was constantly pulling myself apart, trying to figure out what was wrong with me, what was wrong with them, why it was all so damn complicated. Every date felt like an interrogation, every connection had an expiry date stamped on it before it even properly started. It was exhausting. I was honestly ready to throw in the towel, thinking maybe that pure, uncomplicated joy in a partnership was just some fairy tale people made up to sell greeting cards.
I remember this one evening, I was just moping around my apartment, scrolling through old messages, feeling pretty sorry for myself. I had this old Tarot deck tucked away in a drawer. Got it on a whim years ago, rarely used it. But that night, something just pushed me. “What the hell,” I thought, “might as well see what nonsense this thing has to say about my love life.” I shuffled the cards, probably more aggressively than needed, and without really thinking, I pulled one. And there it was, staring right back at me: The Sun card.
Now, I wasn’t some Tarot expert, never claimed to be. But even I knew The Sun was supposed to be, like, the ultimate good vibe card. Joy, success, light, all that jazz. But for me? For my train wreck of a love life? It felt like a cosmic joke. I just sat there, looking at that happy kid on the horse, all bright and naked and surrounded by sunflowers, thinking, “You gotta be kidding me. How does this even apply to my mess?” But something in that image, that raw, uninhibited happiness, it kinda stuck with me. It was so far removed from my current emotional state, it was almost jarring.
So, I started digging. Not in a bookish, academic way, just kinda… thinking about it. What did ‘joy’ even mean in a relationship? What did ‘clarity’ look like when everything felt like a fog? I began to pull the Sun card for myself over the next few weeks, specifically asking about love. Every time, it popped up. It was like the damn deck was screaming at me. I’d stare at it, trying to peel back the layers. I started watching people, couples I knew who seemed genuinely happy, trying to spot that “Sun” energy in their interactions. What were they doing? What wasn’t there? I was trying to find the missing piece, you know?
What I slowly started to piece together was this: the Sun card wasn’t some magic spell for a perfect partner to just appear out of nowhere. It was about my own damn attitude. I was bringing so much baggage, so many pre-conceived notions, so much suspicion into every encounter. I was always looking for the trap, the catch, the eventual disappointment. The Sun card, with its open sky and no shadows, was telling me to cut that out. It was yelling, “Hey, buddy! Stop looking for darkness where there isn’t any! Just… be happy. Be open. Find the pure, simple joy in connecting with another human being.”
This realization was like a slap in the face, but in a good way. It wasn’t about finding someone to give me joy; it was about bringing joy to the table myself. It was about seeing things clearly, without all the filters of past hurts or imaginary future problems. It meant taking off the mask, being honest about who I was, and actually trusting that someone else could see that and appreciate it, without me having to play games or second-guess everything they said or did.
I started trying to embody that Sun energy. It was hard at first, pushing back against years of cynical thinking. But I made a conscious effort:
- When I was talking to someone new, I’d tell myself, “Just enjoy the conversation. No hidden meanings. Just listen, genuinely.”
- If something felt good, I stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’d allow myself to simply feel that warmth.
- I started speaking my truth more, clearly and kindly, instead of hinting or bottling things up, hoping they’d magically understand.
- I even began to look for the sunny parts of existing relationships – with friends, family – and actively appreciate them.
It sounds simple, right? But for me, it was a massive shift. I wasn’t just trying to ‘decode’ a card anymore; I was actively trying to live its message. I started feeling lighter, less anxious. My interactions became more genuine. I stopped forcing things and started letting things flow. When I eventually did find myself in a new partnership, it wasn’t this dramatic, stormy romance I used to chase. It felt… easy. Joyful. Like a clear, warm day where you just want to soak in the sun. And that, my friends, is when I truly started to understand that finding pure joy in partnership isn’t about some perfect cosmic alignment, it’s about learning to be the damn Sun yourself.
