Words: Savannah Meriwether (She/her)
In a world increasingly hard to trust, what’s the harm in turning to a deck of cards – or to the stars – for a few answers?
Every winter for much of my life, my mother has gifted me a new tarot deck. From the classic Raider-Waite to Manara’s Erotic Tarot, my personal collection defies categorisation. I remember receiving every one of them – shuffling them for the first time, feeling their tactility and flow as I brushed them from hand to hand. My relationship with my decks has grown to be about trust in myself rather than trust in divinity pulling strings, and the practice exists as a unique bridge between the introspective and the social. When used on my own, it’s less of a practice in spirituality and more a conversation with myself. I pull cards in relation to events in my life, but never take their meaning at face value, and often write about whatever feelings the cards stir up. What is it we’re really searching for when shuffling for signs? Connection? Stability? Answers? Maybe we’ll never know.
With friends, tarot cards become a way of making connections blossom. There’s nothing quite like watching all the possibilities of a situation unfold before you on the floor – the Three of Swords (my rather sadistic favourite), the High Priestess, the Page of Cups – feeling the possibility of future relationships and encounters while surrounded by people you already hold dear. New Year’s parties with friends spending hours doing 12 card readings to reflect on the year gone by and ponder what’s to come. Even the times I’ve pulled a card when I miss someone I shouldn’t – grounding myself in the reality of the lost connection. Our lives and relationships with one another are never stagnant, and it’s relieving to know that a question as simple as ‘What’s your star sign?’ can spark a connection between people who’ve only just met. Spiritual practice is where the magic of the individual and interpersonal intertwines. When pulling tarot cards alone there’s a sense of connectivity in the act of introspection, but when doing readings with others you blend and amplify that conscious act of looking inward and beyond through the shared experience.
There is something to its freeform nature that feels very suited to the times of strife we live in. With governments turning to fascism, genocide being perpetuated and ignored, and the digital landscape becoming increasingly frightening, having a practice grounded in ties to nature and reflection – one that is tactile and intentional – can feel like a safe haven within the nightmare of reality. It makes sense that an interest in all things “spiritual” began to pick up during the pandemic years. In a time of intense isolation, spirituality offered an opportunity to journey beyond the confines of your home without stepping foot outside. Most decks are intricately illustrated with fantastic and gold-foiled imagery – a single card has enough to get lost in for at least a few hours. Plus, with short-form content sites making it easier to access the ‘how-tos’ of spiritual practices, and apps like Co–Star making astrology digestible and social (you can add friends and share horoscopes), it has never been easier to dip a toe into the water of the “divine”. Even if you’re someone who doesn’t believe in there being any predictive truth to tarot, astrology, palmistry, and the like, it can be motivating to have something that gives hope for a better future when the world is burning around us.
Where many religious doctrines require a sense of social conformity, there is complete freedom of expression and malleability in spiritual practice. You can be whoever you are when shuffling a deck, have whatever opinions you want, and be as consistent or erratic with your spiritual habits as your heart desires. There are truly no rules. Since we exist during a time when many things are out of our individual control, it’s a beautiful process to shape your practice to suit your own needs.
I don’t necessarily think everyone wants tarot readings to always be a sign of good fortune. If I pulled the “Wheel of Fortune” for every reading, it would lose any meaning. Life ebbs and flows, and it’s good to remember that the bad days can be what make the better ones so meaningful. There is nothing more comforting than the reminder that things can change. That, either through personal action or circumstance, how we exist today has the possibility to be entirely transformed tomorrow. In a world increasingly hard to trust, what’s the harm in turning to a deck of cards – or to the stars – for a few answers? We all want them. Maybe spirituality is a way to find those answers within ourselves, and within those around us.
