Man, I drew The Chariot reversed yesterday. I was sitting here just pounding my head against the wall because this huge personal goal I set—the one I put everything into over the last six months—just ground to a complete halt. I mean, totally stuck. I kept trying to force it, pushing buttons, making desperate phone calls, emailing people, demanding answers from the universe, you name it. Nothing moved. Zero traction. I needed to know why I was burning so much energy for zero payoff, so I pulled the cards.
The Initial Pull: Why the Wheels Fell Off
I drew The Chariot, reversed. Usually, The Chariot is all about sheer willpower, forward motion, and total victory through disciplined control, right? You seize the reins, you drive through obstacles, you win. When it’s upside down, the obvious interpretation hits you right in the face: total loss of control, no direction, maybe your ego is too big and you’re crashing the vehicle because you think you’re invincible.
But that’s textbook stuff. That doesn’t help me figure out my specific mess. I needed to dig into the symbols and connect them directly to my failure point. I pulled out my practice journal and started listing everything I’d done this past month that felt like I was shoving a square peg into a round hole.
- I tried to multitask six different tasks instead of finishing the one primary objective. (Lack of focus, scattered energy.)
- I totally blew past the red flags my gut was throwing up just because I wanted to meet a totally arbitrary deadline I set for myself. (Ignoring intuition, rushing.)
- I got stubborn and refused to accept minor setbacks, wasting days trying to fix something that needed to be abandoned. (Ego trip, refusing to pivot.)
The physical practice of writing down those specific failures, using those harsh verbs—shoving, blowing past, wasting—that immediately told me the block wasn’t external. The Charioteer (me) was the problem.
The Messy Truth of My Failed Drive: A Familiar Story
I realized this blockage wasn’t about the world stopping me; it was me driving the damn thing into a ditch because I never learned how to steer the two sphinxes pulling the wagon. And that realization brought me right back to three years ago, when I launched that completely disastrous freelance venture. God, that was The Chariot Reversed personified. I was so sure I had the perfect plan, I ignored all the expert advice. I just wanted it to work, so I barreled ahead with blind confidence.
I structured the whole thing, poured cash into marketing materials, launched it prematurely—the whole nine yards. I genuinely thought sheer willpower alone could make up for poor market research and bad foundational setup. It couldn’t. It just led to massive burnout, me alienating potential partners, and losing nearly five figures because I couldn’t pivot when things inevitably went sideways. I just kept pushing the accelerator deeper into the mud, convinced the mud would eventually turn into pavement.
I remember sitting there afterwards, looking at the financial wreckage. My so-called ‘victory’ plan was nothing but a pile of broken promises I made to myself about doing things right and sticking to a process. The universe wasn’t blocking me then; I was driving a broken wagon at top speed.
In that moment of practice yesterday, pulling the card again, I saw the exact same pattern repeating itself with this new goal. I was rushing the foundational steps again. I was trying to skip the slow, boring integration phase and jump straight to the flashy end result. I was trying to force a victory that hadn’t been earned through proper control and strategy.
Digging into the Armor and the Crest
When I’m truly blocked and the standard definitions aren’t clicking, I pull out my most beaten-up deck—the one with the clear imagery—and I just stare at the reversed card. I’m looking at it, trying to feel where the energy is specifically stuck. In The Chariot, the driver is usually protected by armor and wears a crest or emblem. When it’s reversed, that protection is completely gone. It feels exposed.
That feeling of exposure is exactly what hit me when my current project stalled. I felt exposed because I hadn’t protected my energy. I hadn’t set boundaries around my time. I had promised too much to too many different parts of the project, and now all those conflicting priorities were crashing down. That armor wasn’t just physical protection; it symbolized the discipline required to commit to one path. Upside down, I was defenseless because I was trying to control everything and master nothing.
I spent a good hour sketching the reversed image in my notebook, intentionally drawing the wheels as broken and the Charioteer looking backwards over his shoulder. This practice forces me to internalize the failure represented by the reversal, not just intellectually understand it. I realized I was literally driving while looking in the rearview mirror, trying to fix past mistakes or regret previous decisions instead of focusing on the clear road ahead. Total mental chaos.
What the Reversed Chariot Demands I Do Now
So, what did the full process of reading and internalizing the card tell me? It says, “Dude, hit the brakes and stop pushing.” It’s screaming that my focus is split, and my intention is murky. The Charioteer has dropped the reins, or maybe he’s trying to steer two sphinxes—one black, one white—who are pulling in completely different directions because they aren’t aligned. Which is precisely what happens when you try to pursue two conflicting goals at the same time.
The solution isn’t to push harder. The solution is usually something really simple, really annoying, and requires total self-discipline, which is precisely what The Chariot upright is all about. The reversal means that discipline has totally gone out the window.
I had to force myself to stop everything. Literally. I shut down the computer, took a long walk, and wrote down one single, achievable goal for the rest of the week. No more rushing. No more trying to impress anyone with the speed of my results.
This card isn’t just about external obstacles, though those exist. It’s mostly about inner chaos creating external friction. If you’re seeing The Chariot Reversed, ask yourself:
- Am I letting impatience drive the bus instead of strategy?
- Did I start this journey before I was emotionally or practically ready?
- Is the ‘victory’ I’m chasing actually the wrong victory for me right now?
My blockage right now wasn’t a sudden disaster; it was a slow bleed caused by me being impatient and arrogant enough to think I could skip the groundwork. The fix? Re-harness those damn sphinxes. Get back to the basics. Stop driving until I figure out which direction “forward” actually is. It’s annoying, painful even, but it’s the only way to get the wheels turning upright again. This whole mess taught me that sometimes, the blockage is the necessary stop sign you refused to read.
