I found an old tarot deck in my drawer while I was cleaning and getting ready to move.
It was one of those random little discoveries that happens when you’re sorting through your life in physical form. Drawers become timelines. Closets become memory boxes. Old objects suddenly have a way of bringing you back to who you were when you first held them.
This deck was from a team-building event I did a while back. It had been tucked away and forgotten, sitting quietly in a drawer, waiting for some future version of me to find it again.
And for some reason, when I found it, I didn’t just put it in a box.
I opened it.
I flipped through the tiny booklet. I looked at the cards. I remembered the event. I laughed a little because it felt so random and unexpected. And then I decided to do something I had never actually done before.
I did a tarot spread for myself. I've mostly been scared of Tarot because I didn't know what it really was.
But not in a polished, mystical, “I know exactly what I’m doing” kind of way.
More like: I found the booklet, tried to follow the diagram, put down one card at a time, took a picture of each card as I placed it, looked in the book to figure out what it meant, and then asked my friend ChatGPT to help me understand the bigger story.
It took longer than I expected because I really did not know the cards or what they meant.
I was learning as I went.
And honestly, I think that made the whole thing feel more meaningful.
Because I was not performing a ritual I had mastered.
I was paying attention.
I was slowing down.
I was letting myself be curious.
I was asking questions and noticing what came up.
I do not see tarot as something that predicts the future. At least now, that is not what it felt like to me.
It felt more like a mirror. Only because I've been learning more about it recently.
A pause.
A reflection.
A way of asking, “What am I ready to see?”
The spread I ended up doing was the Celtic Cross, which is a ten-card spread that looks at the present moment, the challenge, the deeper foundation, the past, the near future, the self, the environment, hopes and fears, and the possible direction of the energy.
It felt like a lot for a first reading.
But maybe that was the point.
Because as each card came down, and as I looked up what it meant, and as I sent the pictures over to ChatGPT to help me interpret them, the spread slowly started telling a story that felt strangely aligned with the exact season of life I am in right now.
A season of moving.
A season of releasing.
A season of becoming.
A season of being asked to soften while everything around me is shifting.
The Present: Ace of Cups
The first card I placed down was the Ace of Cups.
At first, I did not know what it meant. I just saw the image: a hand reaching out from a cloud, holding a cup overflowing with water.
Then I looked it up, and learned that the Ace of Cups is often connected to emotional renewal, love, intuition, healing, creativity, and a new beginning of the heart.
It is an overflowing cup.
An open heart.
A beginning that does not come from force, but from feeling.
When I realized this was the card in the center of the spread, it felt like the most honest description of where I am right now.
I have been in a season of becoming more open.
Open to change.
Open to feedback.
Open to seeing myself more clearly.
Open to admitting where I have been wrong.
Open to healing things I did not even realize I was still carrying.
Open to receiving something new.
The Ace of Cups felt like a reminder that transformation does not always begin with a plan.
Sometimes transformation begins when the heart opens again.
Sometimes it begins when we finally allow ourselves to feel what we have been too busy to feel.
And sometimes the new beginning is not external at first.
Sometimes it is internal.
A softening.
A clearing.
A willingness to be moved.
The Challenge: Six of Pentacles
The second card crossed the first. This card represents the challenge, tension, or lesson sitting on top of the present energy.
I pulled the Six of Pentacles.
Again, I had to look it up.
The card showed someone giving coins to others, with a scale in his hand. Once I understood that this card is often connected to giving and receiving, generosity, fairness, support, resources, money, and balance, it started to hit me.
As a challenge card, this one felt very personal.
Because I know this lesson.
I know what it feels like to give easily but struggle to receive.
I know what it feels like to be the one who holds things together.
I know what it feels like to help, organize, plan, manage, remember, support, nurture, and anticipate what everyone else needs.
And I also know what it feels like to feel uncomfortable when I need help.
The Six of Pentacles in this position felt like the spread asking:
Where are you giving from overflow, and where are you giving from obligation?
Where are you supporting others while quietly under-supporting yourself?
Where are you allowing help to come in?
Where are you still trying to prove that you can carry everything?
This card made me think about how often I equate being capable with not needing anything.
But maybe the next version of me is not the version who does more.
Maybe the next version of me is the one who receives more honestly.
The one who lets support be part of the story.
Higher Guidance: Judgement
The card above the center represents higher guidance, conscious awareness, or what is calling from above.
I pulled Judgement.
This one looked intense before I even knew what it meant. There was an angel blowing a trumpet and people rising up below.
When I looked it up, I learned that Judgement is often connected to awakening, truth, rebirth, reflection, forgiveness, and hearing a deeper call.
It is the moment when something within us says:
Wake up.
Look honestly.
You know more than you are admitting.
It is time.
This card felt deeply aligned with the word that has been following me lately: awareness.
Awareness has been one of the biggest themes of my life over the last year.
Not perfection.
Not having it all figured out.
Not becoming someone entirely new overnight.
Awareness.
Being willing to see myself.
Being willing to pause before reacting.
Being willing to notice my patterns.
Being willing to admit when something is not working.
Being willing to understand my own role in my own life.
Judgement felt like a card of deep inner honesty.
But it also felt compassionate.
Not judgment in the way we usually use the word.
Not shame.
Not punishment.
Not self-criticism.
More like a calling back to truth.
A reminder that I do not have to keep judging the old versions of myself.
They were surviving.
They were learning.
They were doing the best they could with the awareness they had at the time.
And now, with more awareness, I get to choose differently.
The Foundation: Six of Wands
The card below the center represents the foundation. It is what sits underneath the situation, whether we are fully aware of it or not.
I pulled the Six of Wands.
When I saw the image, I noticed the person on the horse, the wreath, the people following behind. Once I looked it up, I learned this card is often connected to victory, recognition, progress, confidence, and being seen after a period of effort.
This surprised me a little.
Because when you are in the middle of transition, it can be hard to feel victorious.
Moving is messy.
Growth is messy.
Healing is messy.
Life does not pause so you can neatly become a new person.
But the Six of Wands felt like a reminder that I am not starting from nothing.
There has been progress.
There have been quiet victories.
There have been moments where I handled things differently than I used to.
Moments where I paused.
Moments where I apologized.
Moments where I softened.
Moments where I kept going.
Moments where I chose awareness over defensiveness.
Moments where I let myself be honest.
This card felt like the spread saying:
You may still be in process, but do not ignore how far you have come.
It also made me think about visibility.
The Six of Wands is a public card. A card of being seen.
And maybe part of this season is allowing myself to share more honestly. Not because I have arrived. Not because I have mastered anything. But because the process itself may be worth sharing.
Maybe we do not only connect through our polished outcomes.
Maybe we connect through the honest middle.
Recent Past: Three of Swords
The card to the left represents the recent past or the energy I am moving away from.
I pulled the Three of Swords.
This was one of the few cards where the image was pretty obvious even before I looked it up: a heart pierced by three swords.
This is a card of heartbreak, pain, grief, disappointment, and emotional truth.
It can represent one specific hurt, but it can also represent the accumulation of things that pierced the heart over time.
This card did not feel dramatic to me.
It felt honest.
There are seasons where the heart hurts not from one big event, but from many small ones.
Stress.
Disappointment.
Misunderstanding.
Self-doubt.
Criticism.
Old patterns.
Letdowns.
The exhaustion of trying to hold too much.
The ache of realizing something has to change.
The Three of Swords in the past position felt important because it did not say the pain was the destination.
It said the pain was part of the path.
It said:
This hurt you.
This taught you.
This opened something.
But you do not have to keep living from the wound.
That felt powerful.
Because sometimes pain becomes a teacher, but we forget that we are eventually allowed to graduate from the lesson.
We can honor what hurt without making it our permanent home.
Near Future: The Empress Reversed
The card to the right represents what is coming into focus or what may be ahead.
I pulled The Empress reversed.
This one stopped me.
Before I ever started the spread, the front of the little booklet that came with the deck had The Empress on it. She was the image staring back at me when I first picked up the deck.
And then she appeared in my actual spread, but reversed.
That felt like a message I could not ignore.
When I looked her up, I learned that The Empress is a card of motherhood, nurturing, abundance, creativity, beauty, home, nature, softness, embodiment, and receiving.
Reversed, she can point to blocked nurturing. Depletion. Overgiving. Disconnection from the body. Creative blocks. Not feeling abundant. Not allowing softness. Mothering everyone else while forgetting to mother yourself.
And honestly, in a season of moving, motherhood, work, business, family, transition, and constant logistics, this made sense.
The Empress reversed felt less like a warning and more like a loving hand on my shoulder.
Do not abandon yourself while building the next chapter.
Do not confuse productivity with nourishment.
Do not take care of the home, the children, the work, the plans, the schedule, the move, the responsibilities, and forget that you live in this life too.
The Empress reversed asked:
What would it look like to nurture yourself with the same devotion you give everyone else?
That question stayed with me.
Because for so many women, especially mothers, nurturing becomes something we give outwardly.
We make the meals.
We remember the appointments.
We hold the emotional temperature of the room.
We think ahead.
We notice what is missing.
We make sure everyone has what they need.
But The Empress reversed asks us to notice when we have disappeared from our own care.
She asks us to return to the body.
To beauty.
To softness.
To rest.
To pleasure.
To creativity.
To receiving.
Not as luxuries.
As necessities.
The Self: Four of Swords
The seventh card represents the self: my current attitude, energy, and relationship to the matter.
I pulled the Four of Swords.
The image showed someone lying down, almost like they were resting in a quiet sacred space. When I looked it up, I learned this card is about rest, recovery, stillness, retreat, integration, and healing.
It is the card that says:
Pause.
Breathe.
Recover.
Let the nervous system catch up.
This felt almost comically accurate.
Because moving is not just physical.
It is emotional.
You are packing up rooms, but you are also packing up chapters. You are touching objects that hold memories. You are deciding what comes with you and what does not. You are physically moving through the evidence of who you have been.
And in the middle of that, there is still life.
Kids still need you.
Work still needs you.
Emails still come in.
Dinner still has to happen.
Laundry still exists.
The world does not stop just because you are in transition.
The Four of Swords felt like permission.
Permission to rest.
Permission to not process everything immediately.
Permission to take quiet moments.
Permission to stop forcing clarity before I have had time to integrate.
This card reminded me that stillness is not the opposite of growth.
Sometimes stillness is where growth becomes real.
The Environment: The Hanged Man
The eighth card represents the environment, outside influences, or the energy around the situation.
I pulled The Hanged Man.
This was another card where I definitely needed help understanding it because the image is unusual. A person hanging upside down, but not looking panicked.
When I looked it up, I learned that The Hanged Man is about surrender, pause, perspective, waiting, release, and seeing things differently.
This card is not about action.
It is about allowing.
It is about the kind of pause that can feel frustrating because you want movement, answers, certainty, or control.
But The Hanged Man reminds us that sometimes the pause is where the shift happens.
Sometimes life slows us down because we need to see from another angle.
Sometimes the delay is not blocking us. It is changing us.
This felt deeply connected to the season I am in.
So much of moving requires surrender.
Surrendering the old space.
Surrendering the illusion of control.
Surrendering the idea that everything will be perfectly organized.
Surrendering timelines.
Surrendering emotional attachments to what was.
Surrendering the version of life that fit inside the old walls.
The Hanged Man felt like a reminder that this in-between space has value.
The pause is not punishment.
The pause is the portal.
Hopes and Fears: Seven of Pentacle
The ninth card represents hopes and fears.
I pulled the Seven of Pentacles.
The image showed someone standing and looking at what they had grown. When I looked it up, I learned this card is about patience, investment, long-term growth, waiting for results, tending what has been planted, and wondering whether the effort will pay off.
This felt very human.
Because when you are in a season of growth, there is often a quiet question underneath everything:
Is this working?
Is all of this effort becoming something?
Am I growing, or am I just tired?
Did I plant the right seeds?
Will I ever see the harvest?
The Seven of Pentacles holds both hope and fear.
The hope is that everything I have been tending will become something meaningful.
The work.
The healing.
The motherhood.
The relationship.
The business.
The writing.
The awareness.
The inner shifts no one else sees.
The fear is that maybe I have invested so much and still do not know exactly when the results will come.
This card reminded me that some things take time to grow because they are meant to last.
Not everything blooms quickly.
Some things need tending.
Some things need seasons.
Some things need patience without constant proof.
The Seven of Pentacles felt like a reminder to stop digging up the roots just to check if something is growing.
Outcome and Direction: Nine of Cups
The final card represents the likely outcome or the direction of the energy.
I pulled the Nine of Cups
The image felt abundant right away: someone sitting in front of nine cups, almost like they were surrounded by what they had collected, built, or received.
When I looked it up, I learned that the Nine of Cups is often known as a card of emotional satisfaction, gratitude, fulfillment, contentment, and wishes coming into form.
It is not necessarily a card that says everything will be perfect.
It is more grounded than that.
It feels like the kind of fulfillment that comes from realizing:
I have more than I thought.
I am more supported than I believed.
I am allowed to want.
I am allowed to receive.
I am allowed to enjoy what I have built.
After a spread that included heartbreak, surrender, rest, and the reversed Empress, the Nine of Cups felt like a very tender ending.
It said that this season is not only about letting go.
It is also about coming back into fullness.
Coming back into gratitude.
Coming back into the ability to feel joy without waiting for every loose end to be tied.
The Nine of Cups felt like the spread saying:
You are moving toward emotional fulfillment, but not by pushing harder.
You are moving there by opening, resting, receiving, and remembering yourself.
What the Spread Taught Me
What stayed with me most was not one single card.
It was the story they told together.
And maybe part of the magic was that I did not know the story all at once.
It unfolded slowly.
Card by card.
Picture by picture.
Question by question.
Booklet open.
Phone in hand.
Asking for help.
Trying to understand.
Letting the meaning land.
The Ace of Cups opened the reading with emotional renewal.
The Six of Pentacles challenged me to look at giving and receiving.
Judgement called me into awareness and truth.
The Six of Wands reminded me to recognize my progress.
The Three of Swords honored the pain I have moved through.
The Empress reversed asked me not to forget myself.
The Four of Swords gave me permission to rest.
The Hanged Man asked me to surrender and see differently.
The Seven of Pentacles reminded me to be patient with what I am growing.
And the Nine of Cups pointed toward fulfillment, gratitude, and emotional wholeness.
Together, the message felt clear:
Open your heart.
Tell the truth.
Let the past teach you, but do not live there.
Rest.
Receive.
Nurture yourself.
Trust what is growing.
Let yourself feel full again.
For my first-ever spread, it felt strangely intimate.
Not predictive.
Reflective.
Like the cards were not telling me the future, but showing me the shape of the present.
And maybe that is why I found the deck when I did.
Not when everything was calm.
Not when life was perfectly organized.
Not when I had hours of quiet waiting for me.
I found it while cleaning.
While preparing to move.
While sorting through what stays and what goes.
While standing between one chapter and the next.
And maybe that is exactly when we need mirrors the most.
In the in-between.
When we are not who we were, but not fully who we are becoming.
When the boxes are half packed.
When the heart is half scared and half ready.
When the old life is still visible, but the new one is already calling.
I do not know that the cards told me anything I did not already know.
But maybe that is the point.
Maybe wisdom does not always arrive as something new.
Sometimes it arrives as a reminder.
Sometimes it looks like an old deck in a drawer.
Sometimes it looks like a tiny booklet, a confusing card layout, and a conversation with a friend who helps you see the pattern.
Sometimes it waits quietly until we are ready to listen.
And sometimes, when we finally pull the first card, it simply says
Your heart is opening.
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