I have very distinct memories of my Grandmother sitting in her spot on the couch with one of her endless cups of coffee and one of her endless journals that we all fought over when she passed, reading her Tarot and writing down her findings. She didn't ask the cards to tell her the future or find the winning lottery numbers. She wasn't looking for prince charming. She was looking for healing and self insight when she flipped them over carefully, one by one, making sure to pay special attention to the 'jumpers' of the deck. She was looking for the cards to lead her into herself, help her understand what she was dealing with or how to shed joy on hard situations.
When I was about ten I received my first oracle deck, not a full Tarot, it's like my Mother knew I couldn't handle something like that at such a young age and even now sometimes I wonder if I'm ready for the slap to the face they give me sometimes. I was in awe, complete wonder over the images and the idea that something so simple, so man made could give me any sort of insight into anything at all. But I used them every day. I would light a candle and a stick of incense and sit on my floor in the morning before school. I read the little description of them in the book that had come with them and wrote down what I got just like my Grandmother. Like a good little reader I tried my best to keep the cards in mind all day, some days to a better success rate than others (this hasn't changed much).
As I got older I got more sophisticated decks, actual Tarot decks which scared the life out of me for a long time and different oracles with more complex spreads and detailed descriptions. I read for friends and family, never really understanding how I was supposed to go about it, always shocked when I would strike upon something real and relevant. Continually wondering what in the world was allowing these cards, these literal pieces of cardboard to peek into our lives. How was it happening?
In my early twenties I hit a depression like nothing I'd ever been through. It effected my weight, my relationships, my ability to find joy in almost anything. I couldn't function past the necessary daily needs of a human being much less read a Tarot card spread. My cards and my practices sat dusty and forgotten along with all of my Spiritual growth on a shelf in a room that we now used for storage. I packed myself up and allowed the deep intricate darkness of depression and anxiety to swallow me whole. I'm still not even sure how I got out of that room, that space where I crammed everything I ever loved and shut off the lights. But I did.
At some point amongst the bog of overwhelming nothingness there was a light. I couldn't explain to you what it was but there was something calling out to me telling me to unlock the door and step out into the sunshine. It was slow and it was confusing and I'm still unraveling it and probably will be until the day I die but it was there and thankfully I followed it. I slowly started to read again, I let the Spirits back in that had been knocking down my door for months upon months, I picked my head up and allowed my psychic gates to slowly inch by inch open back up and suddenly there was color again, where that bog once sucked me slowly down there were daisies. I started to talk to my parents about it, my boyfriend (now husband, bless him), my friends. When things got hard I turned to my Guides, my Spirits, my cards, I didn't hide I asked for help and I got it, whether or not it was what I had in mind was always questionable.
The healing was in my cards. I use cards to help unveil that it is that we can do to help ourselves. I don't use them to tell the future, they can give insight, they might tease little hints here and there, but time is a tricky thing and Fate doesn't always want us knowing her plan. I use my Mediumship and Energy Healing to help people connect, heal, find comfort in the things that are very real but not physically tangible. I am here to heal, it's my purpose and my job, it might not always be linear, in fact it rarely ever is, but it's what I'm supposed to do. Every time I ignore the calling I pay for it, I get sent signs, some small, some huge, some shocking (think stranger in a chapel telling you you're a healer). So here I am, helping, healing and figuring it out as I go.
Comments