Man, lemme tell ya, I spent a good chunk of my early days with Tarot just feeling totally lost in the sauce. Especially with the XIX deck, you know, The Sun. Everybody talks about how it’s all joy and light, right? But when I first got my hands on it, I just kinda stared. It looked nice, sure, but what the hell was it trying to say to me, personally? I’d pull a card, look it up in some fancy book, and the explanation would just fly right over my head. It felt like I was reading a foreign language, trying to translate every single word, instead of just getting the vibe.
I remember one tough patch, maybe four, five years back. My old job had me working like a dog, burning the candle at both ends. I felt like I was constantly chasing my tail, no real joy, just grind. Every morning, I’d drag myself out of bed, dreading the day. I tried pulling a card then, hoping for some insight, some secret tip to fix things. I’d usually get something like a Two of Pentacles, or a reversed Tower, and I’d just sigh. Then, one morning, out popped The Sun, Card XIX. I just kinda tossed it on my nightstand. “Great,” I thought, “more sunshine and happiness that feels absolutely miles away from my reality.” I almost just ignored it.
That day, something shifted, though. I just reached for it again, this time without any book, without any pre-conceived notions. I just held it. I really looked at the imagery. The naked kid, the horse, those sunflowers peeking over the wall, that big, beaming sun. And for the first time, I didn’t try to find a meaning in a book. I just asked myself, “What does this feel like to me right now?” And man, it felt like hope. Not a giant, shouting kind of hope, but a quiet whisper that maybe, just maybe, there was some light at the end of my tunnel, even if I couldn’t see it yet. That’s when I realized I’d been doing it all wrong. I was trying to interpret other people’s meaning, not my own.
So, I started from scratch. I ditched all the thick books and the online guides for a while. My new method was simple, almost stupidly so, but it worked like a charm:
- First, I’d just sit there with the card. No immediate rush to “read” it. I’d just kinda let my eyes wander over every little detail. What colors jumped out? What did the characters look like they were doing or feeling? What was the overall mood of the picture?
- Then, I’d write down whatever popped into my head. Didn’t matter how silly or irrelevant it seemed. A color, a feeling, a memory, a random thought. For The Sun, I wrote things like “warm,” “happy kid,” “freedom,” “no clothes, no hiding,” “simple joy,” “yellow makes me think of summer.”
- Next, I’d think about my own life. What situation was I asking about? How did those random thoughts or feelings from the card connect to what was going on with me? For that job situation, “simple joy” felt like something I was missing. “Freedom” was something I desperately craved. “No hiding” made me think about being authentic.
- After that, I’d look at the traditional meanings, if I still felt stuck. But only after I had my own gut reaction. And I’d compare my thoughts to what was written. Did they align? Did they offer a new angle? Usually, my initial feelings were surprisingly close, or at least provided a solid jumping-off point.
- Finally, I’d synthesize it. What was the main message for me, right now? How could I apply this? For The Sun card during my tough job phase, it became about finding those small moments of pure joy, even in the chaos. About being bold enough to step into my own truth and stop hiding my unhappiness, which eventually led to me looking for a new gig.
I started doing this with every single card in the deck, taking my sweet time. I stopped trying to memorize card meanings like they were exam answers. Instead, I built a personal relationship with each card. For the XIX deck, its theme of warmth, vitality, and uncovering truth really started to color how I saw everything else. When I’d see a tough card, like the Ten of Swords, I’d remember The Sun’s promise of new beginnings after rock bottom. It wasn’t about ignoring the tough stuff, but understanding that even through the darkest nights, there’s always a sunrise coming, a new perspective, a fresh start. The sun always rises, even when you can’t see it.
This whole process made Tarot less of a mystical, intimidating thing and more like a wise, visual friend. It stopped being about “interpreting the deck” and started being about “interpreting my life through the deck.” And man, that made all the difference. It wasn’t some magic trick; it was just me, getting honest with myself, using these pictures as a mirror.
