My Tarot origin story

I don’t fully recall why I decided to learn Tarot. I remember the store where I bought my first decks, though I’ve forgotten the name. I remember my initial fascination with the art, the symbolism, the archetypes. I remember being so enamored of my decks that I bought drawstring bags off of eBay, a wooden cask at a shop called Lightworkers, weathered metal boxes and acrylic paints at the craft store, just to give them a rightful place to call home.

Of course, I was enthralled with the idea of almost anything that seemed mystical to me at the time. I’d always been a bit of a dreamer – an early reader, a writer – and as an older kid, I developed an interest in seeing the future. I read an ancient copy of Linda Goodman’s Sun Signs from cover to cover, over and over. I practiced with a paperback palmistry book, whose name is also lost to time, and even now I can see the names of some of the lines as if they’re written across my own hand.

Those are the only precursors I remember, and otherwise Tarot came to me all on its own. It may have been before or after I got a reading at a Renaissance festival; it was definitely an era away from the first time I held my own private New Year’s Eve ritual. The only thing I know for sure is that I was 23 and seeking…what, I didn’t quite know.

That was a year in my life that overflowed with excitement, joy, purpose, and love. People who enthralled me and work that fulfilled me. Open gates of possibility everywhere I looked. And right in my hands, a key that could help me find my way forward.

Time moves on, inexorably. In the more than 25 years since, I’ve lost almost everything that life held at the time, save for my parents, a few thin threads – and Tarot. For all my planning and dreaming, I’ve wandered down a winding road that looks nothing like I expected it to. Yet no matter how many times I’ve put it down, Tarot is always there for me when I’m ready to pick it back up.

In spring of 2018, I was once again seeking. After a decade of feeling disconnected, I felt drawn back to the spiritual realm I thought had left me behind. It was Tarot that unlocked the door; in need of “extra” money, and short on other options, I decided to try doing paid readings. First a festival, then a fair; in the fall that followed, finally, a regular shop rotation.

That’s only the beginning of this tale, the one that winds gently into my current biography, which blooms for the world to see. Maybe Tarot didn’t pick me up off the floor, but it was a steady hand to help me up. Maybe Tarot didn’t save my life, but it encouraged me to see the good again. It’s a mirror that reflects my wisdom, my sense of humor, my pain and trauma, my compassion and empathy. It’s a portal that leads me to help others find answers and peace, a key to my purpose in life, a place of respite for my curiosity.

Most importantly, it’s something I want to share with you. Whether the cards have been a friend to you longer than I’ve been alive, or if I have decks that are older than you, we have something to learn from each other. I hope you’ll stick with me on this (possibly wordy) journey, as we grow together, gather more knowledge, expand our intuition. It gets funnier and lighter from here, usually, and even when it doesn’t, I’ll bring you the light of the Star…the intuition of the High Priestess…the balance of Temperance. The Wheel of Fortune is a rollercoaster, but the Fool’s Journey is one of wonder and wisdom, more than reckless abandon.

So come. Grab your favorite decks, but otherwise, pack light. Follow me to see how I walk the path, and then take your next steps your own way. Tarot is waiting, and you’ve arrived at just the right time.