Reflections on my Tarot Journey: Part Three
This is part 3 in a series of posts about my healing journey with the tarot. In parts 1 and 2 I’ve shared the very beginnings of this journey, how I got my first deck and how I began to work with the cards.
I very quickly realised I had a favourite. There was one card that drew my attention like no other, and, not to be a stereotypical goth or anything (even though, shock horror, I am wearing MOSTLY NOT BLACK in the current profile pic!) buuttttttt…. that card was Death.
Now, to put this in context a little, death is a lifelong fascination for me, so, y’know, that tracks. And at the time I began to explore the tarot I was making the study of death in art into a career. So, it can absolutely be said that the conditions were somewhat favourable for me to be immediately drawn to the Death card. Aside from the fact that the art work is cool as heck, it’s just… well… death-y.
Joking at my own expense aside, there is something I still find compelling after all these years, because what’s really at the heart of the Death card is change.
Change. Such a short-looking word, at least the way we write it out in English. So much lies beneath it and behind it: excitement; anticipation; fear; grief; improvement; deterioration; the inexorable march of Time towards inevitable endings. But with endings come beginnings.
A lot of the discomfort in the Death card stems from it being a significator of change that’s not necessarily within our control. In fact, it tends to represent those changes wrought by forces far larger than ourselves, and the complexity of experience and emotion they bring, those life-changing moments for good or ill (or something of both, as is often true) that come upon us and with which we must flow. It can be pretty heavy stuff, and depending what other cards* are nearby, it can be a very difficult message to give someone or to see in a reading for myself.
The thing is, change is the only constant. It’s the only thing we can really be certain of in this life. So in bad moments, say: ‘This will also change.’ And in good moments, also say: ‘This will also change.’ This practice, the awareness of the changing nature of experience, the changing nature of circumstances, is a great lesson from the Death card. Yes, it means change, yes, this sometimes gives to you and sometimes takes from you, but beyond that it’s an invitation to be present, not take the good stuff for granted, and live according to what you really value. As we all know, for all of us here have experienced painful loss, life’s too short.
This card has come up for me at different moments over the past 16 years, some grief-stricken and some filled with joy, and many in a very grey area in between. I long ago developed a weird sense of knowing when it’ll come up in a reading. I don’t feel I’ll ever be done learning what it has to teach me.
I’ll end it here for today and carry on next time, ‘Til then!
*Cards such as The Tower, 3 of Swords, 10 of Swords can be extremely painful when seen alongside Death, but really they too are all indicators of a moment that itself will also change, a point from which to depart and evolve.
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Death cards pictured in the pic come from the following decks (and yes, this was a teeny bit of an opportunity to show off a little of my collection, hehe):
Centre: Karma Tarot (bought second hand on etsy a few years ago)
Top centre: Rider Waite Smith (an absolute classic; very easy to find)
Top right: Mars Power Tarot (from sicksadgirls on etsy, love their stuff so much)
Bottom right: Cat People Tarot (have a look online, I’m sure it’s pretty easy to find)
Bottom left: Gothmancy Tarot (from etsy I think, can’t quite remember though aaargh)
Top left: Cat’s Eye Tarot (bought from an actual honest-to-goodness in-person SHOP, in Glastonbury earlier this year. It’s currently my main deck for reading for other people. Lovely kitties!)
