Let me tell you, I never thought I’d be sitting here, talking about tarot cards. I mean, seriously. Us Virgos, we love our routines, our logic, our spreadsheets. So when someone suggested I try unpacking my “Monthly Tarot Truthstar Reading,” I probably rolled my eyes so hard they almost fell out. But hey, life throws you curveballs, and sometimes you just gotta swing, even if the bat feels a bit silly.
It all started a few months back. I was in a bit of a rut, you know? Not terrible, just… flat. Everything felt a bit beige. I’d be staring at my to-do list, feeling absolutely zero motivation to tackle it, even though every logical part of my brain screamed, “Just get it done!” My usual methods of just powering through or breaking things down weren’t cutting it. My partner, bless her heart, noticed it. She’s a bit more open-minded about these “woo-woo” things, as I used to call them. “Why don’t you try something different?” she said one evening, holding up a printout with some zodiac sign on it. “I saw this ‘Truthstar’ thing for Virgos. Might shake things up a little.”
My initial reaction? More eye-rolling. But then I figured, what’s the harm? It wasn’t like I was going to sacrifice a goat or anything. It was just… cards. So, grudgingly, I agreed to give it a whirl. I dug out an old tarot deck I’d been gifted years ago – the one with the slightly sticky edges from that time I spilled coffee near it. It had been sitting in a drawer, gathering dust, mocking my inability to embrace anything beyond the strictly rational.
The Setup and the Initial Resistance
The “Truthstar” reading, as explained by this online guide, wasn’t just a simple three-card pull. Oh no. It was a whole spread. They called it the “Seven Stars of Clarity” or something equally dramatic. It involved laying out seven cards in a specific pattern, each representing a different aspect of your current situation: your core challenge, your hidden strength, what’s blocking you, what’s illuminating your path, and so on. Sounded complicated, which, weirdly, appealed to the Virgo in me. If I was going to do it, I was going to do it right, even if I thought it was all hogwash.
I found a quiet corner in my apartment, lit a cheap candle just for the ambiance (and because the guide suggested it, not because I believed in it, obviously). I shuffled the deck. That felt weird, like I was doing some kind of parlor trick. I kept thinking, “What am I even doing?”
- First, I centered myself, or at least tried to. The guide said to focus on my intention. My intention was basically, “Get out of this rut, please.”
- Then, I started laying out the cards, face down, following the pattern for the “Truthstar” spread. There was a card for the “Foundation,” one for “Current Energy,” one for “Obstacle,” “Support,” “Desire,” “Advice,” and finally, the “Truthstar” itself, which was supposed to be the overarching message.
- Flipping them over one by one felt surprisingly… weighty. Not in a magical way, but in a “this is kind of a big deal, even if it’s dumb” way.
The Unpacking and the Unexpected Click
The first few cards were a blur. The “Foundation” was The Chariot reversed. I squinted. “Stuck. Lack of direction,” I muttered, reading the tiny guide booklet that came with the deck. “Well, no kidding, Sherlock.” The “Obstacle” was the Five of Pentacles. “Financial worry, feeling left out.” Again, nothing groundbreaking. I felt a familiar wave of cynicism wash over me. This was just vague enough to apply to anyone feeling a bit down.
But then I got to the “Advice” card. It was the Queen of Swords. I read the description: “Sharp intellect, honest communication, clear boundaries, independent thought.” Okay, that resonated a bit more. I always pride myself on being direct, but lately, I’d been sugarcoating things, trying not to rock the boat. Had I lost a bit of my edge?
And then came the “Truthstar” card. The final one. I took a deep breath, feeling a weird little flutter in my stomach. I flipped it over. It was The Hermit. I stared at it. An old man, holding a lantern, standing alone on a mountaintop. My first thought was, “Oh, great. You’re just telling me I’m going to be a lonely old goat.”
But as I dug into the meaning of The Hermit for a “Truthstar” reading, something shifted. It wasn’t about being alone forever. It was about introspection. About seeking wisdom from within, retreating from the noise, and taking time for self-reflection. For a Virgo, who constantly tries to fix everyone else’s problems, organize every detail, and generally just do things, the idea of just… pulling back? Going on a solo mission inside my own head? It felt almost wrong, selfish even.
But the more I thought about it, the more it clicked. I hadn’t taken any real time for myself in ages. I was always reacting to external stimuli, to what others needed, to what the next task demanded. The whole reading, the clutter of seemingly random cards, suddenly found its anchor in that one simple message: go inward. It wasn’t about predicting the future or solving my problems with a snap of my fingers; it was about understanding what I needed to do in the present moment to move forward. To just… be quiet for a bit.
The Aftermath and the Realization
A couple of weeks went by after that reading. Business as usual, or so I thought. Then BAM. My manager drops this massive, complex project on my lap. Deadline: tight. Stakes: high. My first instinct, the old me, would have been to instantly panic, schedule a dozen meetings, call everyone for advice, try to delegate everything. I’d have been a ball of frantic energy, overthinking every single detail.
But then, I remembered The Hermit. I remembered that Queen of Swords. I took a deep breath. Instead of immediately reacting, I cleared my calendar. I told my team, “I need a couple of days to just map this out. No interruptions unless the building’s on fire.” I locked myself in my office, put on some chill instrumental music, and just… focused. I sat there, just me and the problem. I didn’t reach out for external validation or advice immediately. I just let myself think it through.
And you know what? I mapped that project out. I found solutions I wouldn’t have seen if I’d been frantically trying to pull everyone else into my chaos. I delegated strategically, knowing exactly why and what I needed. It wasn’t easy, not by a long shot, but it felt… right. It felt authentic. It felt like me at my best, not me at my most frazzled.
So, yeah, this whole tarot thing, it ain’t magic. It didn’t predict my future or give me lottery numbers. But for an overthinking Virgo like me, it was a surprisingly effective kick in the pants. It forced me to look at things differently, to slow down, and maybe, just maybe, see what I already knew deep down but was too busy ignoring.
