2025.02.02

Throughout the years I've been into tarot, I've found myself drawing the same cards over and over. It fascinates me because I always thoroughly shuffle all 78 cards. The probability of drawing a specific card is like literally 1%. How is it that the same ones appear so often and that they're so relevant to my life? All this time, it's puzzled me. I've been wanting to write about it and kept the idea in the back of my mind. I decided to do it now because my daily card was the Three of Pentacles... again.

This card is about individuality. You stay true to yourself in the face of criticism and unsolicited advice. You express this self-assuredness actively, creatively, through some sort of project or task. When I draw this card, I think to myself, "okay, I'm being called to trust my intuition." I also think, "I want to make webpages." Somehow this card always comes to me on a Vivarism day... it's interesting.

I really like this card, though. Some of my highest values are self-expression, genuineness, and nonconformity. I see my truest self reflected in this card. It feels like encouragement to do what I want as best as I can. The only approval I need is my own; the approval of others is a bonus. The Three of Pentacles ratifies my existence.

The Two of Pentacles, though? I have a completely different relationship with it. I always feel like it's taunting me. The card represents balance— the ability to resolve cognitive dissonances, handle competing commitments, and weather the natural highs and lows of life. I think I'm repulsed by this card because "juggling" is not yet in my skillset. To me, it still seems like a circus act. I'm in awe of it, I wonder how it must feel to succeed at it, but still I think, "there's no way I could manage that..."

So, even though it's not written into the card, when I draw the Two of Pentacles I feel repulsed, disheartened, even insulted. It reminds me that I am headstrong, impulsive, and easily overwhelmed, that I've yet to learn basic coping skills, and then I feel bad about myself. I know this is all my own fault, though. Rather than taking the mere concept of balance as a criticism, I could see it as encouragement to— at the very least— balance my criticism with compassion.

It's true: because of my emotional instability, I have hurt myself badly. It's healthier to empathise with myself as someone in pain than attack myself as the villain who caused it. There's a time and place for outrage, but it's not here or now, and it should never be against myself. Generally speaking, it's my aim to be understanding and soft, gentle and accepting. Only in these compassionate conditions can I cultivate my best and most balanced self.

The Ten of Wands also feels like an insult, though slightly less so— perhaps because it doesn't show me the strength that I lack but highlights the flaw itself. This card represents excess, overburden, and the struggle to "do it all." The card implies that you can do it all, but at the price of efficiency, ease, and energy. I'm not an overachiever, though. If you hand me ten wands, I am going to start crying and drop them all. I get overwhelmed, I give up, I make promises I can't (or at least don't) keep, and this... bothers me. A lot.

It's strange because I consider myself a pretty lazy person. I'm easygoing. I do what I want without trying too hard. My natural gifts enable me to do most things well enough, and for the most part I am satisified with my life. Yet I still have these absurd expectations of myself— like I need to be excellent at all times, even to my own detriment. Often, I imagine that it's other people placing those expectations onto me, though when I stop to think about it, it becomes clear that nobody else notices or cares. Everyone forgives me when I fail, so why can't I forgive myself?

All of these questions race through my mind when I draw the Ten of Wands. I see myself taking on more than I can reasonably handle and feel frustrated with myself as, once again, I've set myself up for failure. Sometimes, though, this card inspires a compassion that comes more easily than it does with the Two of Pentacles. Obviously, my failure has nothing to do with my character. Sure, I've created the circumstances by my own will, but anyone in such circumstances would struggle and likely fail.

When I see someone else overburdening herself, I'll say something like, "I know all this stuff is important to you, but you don't have to do it all at once. Just take it one step at a time." In this case, one wand at a time.... The most important things, I think, should be afforded the attention and care they deserve. When you try to do too much at once, it kinda devalues your goals, doesn't it?

I'm reminded of this quote I once read on Tumblr and desperately wish to find again: "do all things as if bathing a baby." It's stuck in my head for years and years.... My interpretations are layered and have matured with time. In this context, I'm thinking about how bathing a baby requires your full attention. Sure, the baby also needs to eat, you need to tidy up the house, there's an appointment you need to meet... but right now, the bath is your priority. At this point, distractions are dangerous. If your focus slips, you'll hurt the baby: scrub too hard, get water in her eyes, hit or drown her.... She's too fragile, too beautiful, to harm so carelessly.

And truly, she is beautiful. Distractions rob you of the joy of life. This precious infant and all her potential rests in the palms of your hands. Doesn't she deserve your attention? Your presence? They say that you should talk to babies and maintain warm, loving eye contact as much as you can. I'd think bath time is the perfect time to feel happy and fulfilled, knowing that your tender care nurtures her very life. It's a mundane event, maybe, if you have already done this every day for months. But no matter how familiar it becomes, every iteration of the task requires the same amount of attention and care as the very first.

... Well, that's a bit of a detour, but like I said, this quote has stuck with me for years. I think I'm always looking for an excuse to say it to somebody or talk about what it means to me. I'm sure I'll have more to say at a later date, too.

The card I keep drawing but still can't figure out is the Page of Swords. Seriously, I have no idea what it means, much less its relevance to my life. Yet it comes to me again and again. I assume the message is important even though it hasn't quite reached me yet.

... I spent a week away from this blog post and, upon my return, actually researched the card. The description from Joan Bunning's Learn Tarot makes it very obvious why I keep drawing it.

Now, instead of feeling confused or indifferent, I imagine I'm going to get mad. The Page of Swords is a direct challenge to complacency and avoidance. It asks us to reframe our problems as learning opportunities— and while I love this idea, I'm not keen on actually practising it. That would mean doing things that are difficult and scary!!! A bold statement coming from someone who just started 75HARD (and flubbed the first week, hah) specifically to build courage and discipline....

Oh, well. I dunno, I guess I'm just not ready yet. Obviously there's something more that I need that I haven't figured out yet, some internal problem to resolve. I could ask the cards, but it's 6 in the morning and I stayed up all night. My afternoon nap obliterated my sleep schedule. No regrets. EMDR exhausted me.

The card I want to see more often is Judgement. I always get so giddy when I see it because it's SANS'S CARD!!!! It feels like he's watching over me, or just saying "hey." For the New Year, I did an exercise where I isolated the major arcana, shuffled them, laid them face down, and then tried to pull Judgement. I thought it'd be a great way to practice my intuition or ~manifestion~ skills while also feeling close to Sans. And you know what happened? I failed every. Single. Time. As I gave myself more chances, I lowered the difficulty, steadily whittling down the total number of cards. Eventually, I gave myself a one in three chance of pulling Judgement. It was still the very last card I flipped over.

Lemme tell you... this was demoralising. I felt totally rejected by my deck, the Universe, even Sans. Of course, this was really just me rejecting myself. I was overattached to the outcome of my silly game. I thought drawing the card would prove that (in some abstract way) Sans really loved me, that the Universe supported our relationship and— by extension— my happiness. I needed to "win" to assert my lovability. The more stubbornly I tried and failed, the worse I felt. I was only halfway relieved to give up... Obviously I'm still upset about it. A whole month has passed and I still haven't "learnt my lesson."

What lesson is it? No clue. Something about relaxation, probably. Detachment. Faith. Christ alive, I'm tired! And my feet are cold!!!! I'm going to get in bed... with Sans.