I’ve been reevaluating myself lately. Moving puts a lot of things into perspective – among those things, tarot cards. I’ve been more drawn to ‘reading’ decks than ‘art’ decks lately, wanting to get back into it and know the difference. So I’ve been all about the Rider-Waite-Smith clones and the like, seeking tradition and easily recognizable images to get myself back in the fold. It is nice to be reading again. But I soon realized that I had to strike a balance between aesthetics and functionality – because as good as the RWS and its variants are for reading (the original, the Connolly and perhaps the Morgan Greer, to name a few I’ve used lately), they all feel the same to me after a while, and I long for something…unique. Enter the rest of my tarot collection. It’s been somewhat of an art choosing decks that I find artistically beautiful and worthy of serious study, in terms of reading or otherwise.
So to complicate things further, I’ve decided I’d like to get back into reading professionally. Well. Suddenly my carefully chosen, aesthetically pleasing reading/study decks seem a little intimidating. I suspect it will take me a while to get used to the idea of reading for others again (especially in person), but regardless I find myself longing for the simplicity of those traditional images to prevent myself from experiencing mind-block in the middle of a reading – an always-present fear. But then I think, how much of it is irrational? I think it wise for me to experiment with a variety of decks, both for work and play, until I decide for sure on that one.
In defense of aesthetics, I’ve recently been attempting to put one of my long-professed favourites to actual use (shocking that all this time, I haven’t): Japanese artist Evan Yi Feng’s Lunatic Tarot (card edition). When the portfolio edition first came out, I couldn’t take my eyes off it – its sexy Lolita style, sepia tones, character-driven aesthetic. I was among the first to purchase the card edition, it being much more suitable for reading…and yet, I hardly touched the thing – wasn’t really sure if I even expected myself to. But with all these issues I got to thinking – it’s one of my favourites. Shouldn’t I give it a chance? So I did. I don’t remember the first few cards drawn (at around the time I was selecting reading/study decks just before my move), but they were shockingly straight-forward and cutting – among them the 8 of Discs. I certainly couldn’t think of anything more fitting of my situation than this man working heavily and to perfection, investing emotional and physical energy in tasks that required a lot of it – even putting the finishing touches on things, as was I (painting, patching the pinholes in my walls). At that point, I remember agreeing to use it. After arriving in Hanover (a few days in) I drew some more cards near the end of a long, hard day, all with a similar feel. The boyfriend had been working long and late, and I’d made the commitment to stick it out in the building with him for company and moral support whilst utilizing the nearby computers. A trying 15-hour day for all concerned. Yes, 15 hours – though no doubt worse for him. The first card I drew was the 10 of Wands, and I couldn’t think of anything more fitting for such a long, burdensome day. Upon asking what I could do for Matt I drew the 7 of Discs – a card of waiting, and patience as a road to fruitful endings (or beginnings). I asked then what he needed the most and drew Temperance, a similar card of patience, and perhaps more importantly, balance in all areas of life. This is definitely the most important thing he needs – something we all need.
Wish me luck with the upcoming readings. I’ll keep you posted on my progress.
That draw ended up being the King of Swords (though appropriate, another court card) – a bit of a jab from my tarot deck, telling me to keep my cool and stick with the god damn card I’m given. Here, we have yet another master of his domain: this time, intellect. Here we have a man who reaps what he sows (symbolized by three strands of wheat wrapped around his sword), and knows how to solve his problems. He is strong of mind and efficient, able to tackle nearly any task with mental skill, determination and grace. Together, these two cards depict a strong-willed individual who can triumph over struggle and work through problems and make sense of ideas that carry him through life and studies.
Now, here’s where it got particularly interesting. I did a private reading for myself on a pressing issue I needed to deal with. I needed to ask my significant other a question – one I’d had in mind for some time – and was thinking of doing it the following evening. It was a rather serious question (not to mention one a girl is not conditioned to ask), and one that could forever change a relationship. I was afraid to do it, and wanted some input as to whether or not it was a good idea, and what I could expect. The card that randomly appeared on the bottom of the deck following the previous reading was the Two of Cups – a clear reminder of the situation at hand. I asked the deck what kind of reaction I could expect – what the outcome would be – and began to shuffle. Toward the end, a card leapt out of the deck: the Nine of Wands, telling me that I was close to something – a successful resolution, a goal I was trying to reach. I finished shuffling, cut, and lifted the one card that would assuage my fears: the Lovers. I nearly gasped, and breathed a sigh of relief, trying not to look too surprised – after all, the tarot knows what I’m thinking . . . we are one and the same. My next and last draw was the Nine of Cups: happiness and wish fulfillment. The best of readings I could have received, and enough to give me the courage I needed.
Recently, it has come to my attention that one of my Taiwanese imports is, in fact, not exactly what I thought it was – though not in a bad way. I am talking about the ever-popular Miracle Tarot – otherwise known as the Fantasy Tarot. The two versions have mere subtle differences, but differences nonetheless. The Miracle Tarot (which I thought I had purchased) has titles in English and a typical cardboard shelfbox. However, it seems I have purchased the original Taiwan edition, which (like most of my Asian imports) arrives in a velcro-flip-top-folding style box covered in Kanji, with the only English word in sight being “Fantasy” in large letters.
