Man, I gotta tell you the truth about Tarot Card Number 10—The Wheel of Fortune. For years, I just wrote it off as a load of hippie nonsense. People always talk about it like it’s a big jackpot or something: “Oh, the Wheel of Fortune, your luck is changing!”
I thought that was a straight-up lie.
I needed a real answer to a real problem, not some vague fortune-cookie crap. I was sitting on a massive career decision, a total jump into the unknown. We’re talking about leaving a decent, steady paycheck for a startup where the risk was huge, but the payoff could’ve been life-changing. I needed a clear “go” or “no go.”
So, I thought, why not test this stupid Tarot deck? I dragged out the old Rider-Waite deck my eccentric aunt had given me years ago, the one that had been sitting in a dusty drawer since ’08. I hadn’t touched the thing. I figured, if this mystical garbage could give me a straight answer, I’d believe it. If not, I was tossing it in the fire pit.
The Setup: Asking a Stupid Question
I didn’t mess around with complicated spreads. I wanted a simple, direct answer about this job change. I cleaned off the kitchen table, cleared my head—or tried to, all I could hear was the clock ticking on my bank account—and I decided on a basic three-card spread:
- Card 1: The Foundation (Where I was coming from).
- Card 2: The Present Challenge (What I was dealing with right now).
- Card 3: The Outcome (The big answer about the jump).
I shuffled the deck. I shuffled it again. I shuffled it until my hand cramped up. I was trying to force the universe to give me a definitive message. I cut the deck with my left hand like the instructions told me, and I laid out the first two cards.
Card 1 landed: The Four of Swords. This one was easy. Rest. Taking a break. Not dead, but totally paused. That nailed my current situation—I was paralyzed by indecision. Accurate.
Card 2 landed: The Tower. My jaw dropped. The Tower! That’s collapse, destruction, sudden changes, everything falling apart! Okay, that scared me. That pretty much confirmed my fear that this entire life choice was going to blow up in my face.
I stared at those two cards for a solid ten minutes. Foundation of rest, leading to immediate destruction. Great. I was about ready to pick up the deck and walk away, thinking I had my answer: stay put, dummy.
The Wheel Stops Spinning Right on Card 10
But I had committed to the three-card spread. I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and flipped the third card, the one that was supposed to tell me if I should jump or not.
It was Card Number 10: The Wheel of Fortune.
I wasn’t happy. I wanted The Sun, The Chariot, or even Death (at least that means a major transformation). The Wheel of Fortune? That’s the most neutral, maddening card in the whole damn deck! I sighed and tossed the book open, reading the typical fluff: “Cycles,” “Karma,” “Good or Bad Luck,” “Changes.”
I slammed the book shut. This was exactly the kind of vague, non-committal answer that makes people lose faith in this stuff! I was furious. I needed clarity, and the deck gave me a picture of a giant spinning wheel with some weird lizard things on it.
I was so angry I decided to prove it wrong. I went ahead and took the new job offer, figuring I’d just muscle my way through The Tower, ignore the Wheel, and win. I signed the paperwork, gave notice, and I was all set to start.
And that’s when the Surprising Truth hit me.
The Revelation: It’s Not Luck, It’s a Clock
The job did start. But one week before my official start date, the company called me. Not to cancel the offer—no, The Tower didn’t happen right away. They called to say the entire corporate structure had changed. The role I was hired for? It was still there, but the boss I was supposed to report to was gone, the team was cut by half, and the pay structure was suddenly commission-based instead of salary.
It wasn’t a total disaster (The Tower), but it wasn’t the grand jackpot I’d signed up for either (The Sun). The entire situation had turned. Just like that. The wheel had spun, completely outside of my control.
I didn’t lose my shirt. I just landed in a completely different spot than the one I aimed for. The whole process was suddenly tougher, required more grinding, and demanded skills I hadn’t planned on using.
Here’s what I learned that day about Card 10:
- It is not good luck.
- It is not bad luck.
- It is the universe ringing the bell to tell you that the party is over and the next phase is starting.
When you get the Wheel of Fortune, it’s not a prediction of what happens, it’s a notification of when it happens. It means whatever state you are currently in—happy, miserable, stuck, floating—it’s about to change direction, and it might happen fast. Your job isn’t to stop the wheel, but to make damn sure you’ve got your harness buckled up when it starts to spin. You just have to ride it out.
That day, I went back to the old deck, picked up Card 10, and put it in a separate sleeve. I didn’t toss the deck. I got my answer. The Wheel of Fortune is a call to action: Prepare to adapt, because the only constant is change, and that change is coming for you, whether you like it or not.
