Man, going back and looking at my old tarot logs is always a trip. Today I decided to specifically dig into the archive, pulling out the stuff I logged way back in January 2019 for the Virgos. It wasn’t even about reading for others then; I was just trying to build a solid baseline of practice to see if this whole intuition thing was even worth the effort. I needed proof, tangible evidence that my process worked, even for a vague collective sign like Virgo.
I started this experiment late December 2018. I dedicated an entire thick notebook, splitting it into weekly sections. January 2019 was the first clean month I committed to. The rules I set myself were simple: I had to read the week ahead every Sunday night, log the cards and the initial intuitive hit, and then, crucially, review and grade the prediction the following Saturday morning, noting down what actually went down.
The Setup and The First Pull
I remember that first Sunday in January. It was cold, late, and I was exhausted from the holidays. I pulled out my Rider-Waite deck, which was still relatively new and stiff. For the very first weekly reading, I decided to be thorough—I went with the full Celtic Cross spread. I shuffled for a solid ten minutes, just focusing on the energy of ‘Virgo’ and the coming seven days. I cut the deck twice, stacked it, and then I started laying out the ten cards, slow and methodical.
I jotted down the positions—The Hermit for the present moment, Six of Swords crossing it (immediate challenge), things like that. I wrote down my interpretation right away, before touching any guidebooks. I remember seeing a lot of cards related to feeling stuck but needing to move forward quietly. My prediction for that first week: mandatory quiet contemplation followed by a frustrating breakthrough. I sealed the entry with a specific blue pen, waiting a week to check my work.
The Celtic Cross, though, was way too much work. It took me over an hour just to interpret and log. So, for the subsequent three weeks in January, I switched tactics immediately. I designed a simple 5-card spread: What Happened Last Week, Current Focus, Potential Obstacle, Best Course of Action, and The Outcome. Way faster, way clearer. I stuck to that 5-card setup for Weeks 2, 3, and 4. I mixed up my decks slightly too, pulling out the Thoth deck for Week 3 just to see if the slightly darker energy changed the outcome. It didn’t, really. The process was what mattered.
Digging Up the Evidence
Now, fast forward to last week when I pulled that 2019 notebook off the shelf. It was tucked right next to my old tax receipts. I opened it up and the energy just hit me—all that focused intention from three years ago. I started reading the entries, comparing the blue ink (prediction) against the red ink (actual events, which I logged at the time).
- Week 1 (Celtic Cross): Prediction was ‘frustrating breakthrough.’ Reality? I got into a huge argument with my landlord about heating issues. No breakthrough, just cold and loud chaos. I gave myself a D+ for accuracy.
- Week 2 (Five Card): Prediction was ‘focus on resource management, unexpected small gift.’ Reality? I spent three days crunching numbers for my new budget plan, and yes, my sister mailed me a box of fancy coffee beans out of the blue. That one was surprisingly spot on. I graded that an A-.
- Week 3 (Thoth Deck/Five Card): Prediction: ‘A sudden, unavoidable emotional cleanup is needed.’ This is the one that got me thinking. I read the cards and remembered feeling confused at the time. I thought it meant cutting ties with a difficult friend.
But here’s the kicker, the detail I had forgotten until I saw the little scribbled note in the margins next to the Tower card. That specific week, I didn’t cut ties with anyone. My computer, the one I used for all my freelance work, completely and irreversibly crashed and died. I lost two weeks of work because I hadn’t backed up properly. I had to buy a new machine instantly, blowing my resource management for Week 2 all to hell. I sat there staring at the red ink, realizing I completely missed the literal ‘Tower’ moment—the sudden collapse of my physical work structure, not an emotional one.
It was a real humbling moment. I realized the cards were never wrong; my interpretation, my focusing lens, was just too narrow. I was so convinced the Tower was always about relationship drama or a big career change that I blinded myself to the obvious: sometimes, the Tower card means your actual physical tower—your computer, your shelf, your foundation—is going to break.
That Jan 2019 review cemented something critical for me about this practice. It taught me that logging and reviewing is the only way to genuinely learn the language of the deck. I closed the journal, feeling a huge dose of gratitude for my past, slightly clueless self who put in the effort to track all that messy data. Now, every time I see the Tower, I check the backup status on my hard drive first, before I even start considering emotional upheaval. You live, you learn, and you keep logging the reality against the prediction. It’s the only way this whole thing works.
