The Chaos that Kicked Me Toward the Zerner Farber Enchantment
You’re probably clicking this because you saw those cards—all pastel and floaty—and thought, “Is this worth dropping fifty bucks on?” Let me just cut to the chase: I didn’t intend to buy a deck of tarot cards, especially not one that looked like it belonged to a fairy. I bought them because my whole damn world had just crashed, burned, and then done a slow, painful smolder for about two months.
I was working on this massive system migration, right? Seven months of twelve-hour days. My team and I poured everything into it. The night we finally pushed it live, I fully expected champagne and high-fives. Instead? The whole backend infrastructure melted down. Not my code, nope. Turns out the ops team screwed up the database roll-back parameters, but guess who the VP dragged into his office at 3 AM? Me. I got chewed out, scapegoated, and then told I was “under review” while the real culprits just got to keep coding.
That meeting just snapped something in me. I walked out, not even back to my desk, just straight out the front door, leaving my laptop blinking on my monitor. I drove home, threw my work phone in a drawer, and didn’t look at it for six weeks. I was done. Completely fried. My doctor called it severe stress and burnout and told me, “You touch a keyboard, I’ll send you a hospital bill.” I just needed to stop.
Stumbling into Whimsy: How I Grabbed the Deck
Suddenly, I had nothing but time. I mean, nothing. No projects, no deadlines, no angry emails. I tried binge-watching stuff, but my brain was too hot. I started wandering around town, just to move my feet. That’s how I ended up in this weird, dusty little metaphysical shop I’d never noticed before. I wasn’t looking for enlightenment; I was looking for a cheap scented candle that smelled like rain.
I remember standing there, staring at the shelf. Everywhere I looked, it was heavy stuff. Big, dark, complex Rider-Waite clones. All those severe faces and heavy symbols. Just looking at them felt like homework. Then I spotted it: the Zerner Farber Enchanted Tarot deck. It looked like a children’s book illustration—soft, watercolor, with a massive amount of nature and flowers covering everything. It was the antithesis of the cold, hard logic I’d been living in for a decade. It freaked me out a little, but it was also the first thing that made me feel remotely calm.
I grabbed the box, paid the lady, and got out of there. I sat on my couch that night and just opened the flimsy paperback book that came with it. I didn’t read it. I didn’t study. I just pulled the cards out and started touching them. They are thin, honestly, not the thick, glossy cardstock I like, but the images? They completely suck you in.
My First Three-Card Spreads and the Ugly Truth
I wasn’t trying to predict the future. I was trying to figure out if I needed to sell my apartment and become a goat farmer. That was my actual, honest-to-God question for the first week.
I started with the simplest thing: a three-card spread for Past, Present, Future.
- I shuffled. The cards were slick and slid everywhere. It felt sloppy.
- I asked the question: Should I go back to that job?
- I drew three cards.
The pictures themselves are what hit you. They aren’t intimidating. They’re sweet. The people look nice, even in the tougher cards like the Ten of Swords. But that sweetness is deceptive, man. When I drew the card for my “Present Situation,” I got the Four of Swords. It’s a peaceful card, this one, usually about rest. But in this deck, the guy is wrapped up tight, almost cocooned. The guidebook didn’t mince words. It was like, “You are pretending to rest but are actually hiding from the world and avoiding necessary conflict.”
I remember just closing my eyes. No vague, mystical mumbo jumbo. Just a direct hit. The soft art didn’t make the message soft. It made it easier to look at, but the message itself was like a sharp poke.
I kept using them. I’d pull one card every morning for two months. It became less about divination and more about a prompt. An entry point for reflection. It was the only part of my day that wasn’t about avoiding a phone call or staring into space. I found that the simple, almost naive-looking pictures helped my logic-brained self bypass all the typical defenses I build up. It forces you to relax and look at the picture before your brain starts quoting textbook meanings.
The Verdict: Are They Worth It?
So, back to your original question, are the Zerner Farber Enchanted Tarot cards worth buying? If you are a beginner, or if you are like I was—someone who finds the typical, heavy, old-school tarot decks too daunting and stressful—then absolutely, yes, they are worth buying. They are accessible.
They helped me transition from being a burnout victim who was hiding out, to someone who could actually start piecing together a plan. They are not the best quality cards, stock-wise. They are definitely not the most serious or imposing deck. But that’s the point. They are gentle enough to invite you in when your life is a mess, but the messages they deliver are still damn accurate and powerful. They gave my overloaded mind a soft place to land and a clear-eyed nudge back toward reality. If your reality is currently a train wreck, you need the gentleness and the nudge. Go get them.
