I’ve recently purchased the Connolly Tarot (in both regular and miniature size), which had me pulled in by its simple imagery and vibrant colours, despite being what some call an overwhelmingly Christian deck. As someone who is quite far from Christian, I’ve realized how little this bothers me – and since I’ve currenly no use for the book, it’s much easier to forget the religious connection. I don’t think I see it as overly fluffy, either – it just happens to be quite glowing.
Thus far I’ve only done the occasional daily draw from the deck, which has been left out of its box on my bed, cards splayed all over the sheets after a period of time (I’ve been sleeping with a lot of things on my bed lately). The cards I’ve been drawing have been confusing me, however – at least until very recently – and I got to thinking about the messages the tarot gives us that we don’t understand. This doesn’t happen to me much anymore. But the confusion started the second I drew my very first card from this deck: The Lovers.
That’s funny, I thought. If anything I’ve felt a bit solitary lately, and as far as deep connections go I haven’t had any fruitful endeavors in the sidelines I could label as such. So I gave it time. A few days – waiting for the big bang, the event that would reveal why this card has showed up for me again, for the second time in a month (I suppose it wouldn’t seem as big a deal to me if I were doing actual readings more frequently than I was posting them, which I’m not). A few days later I drew another repeat card, which showed up previously after my chinchilla died: the 6 of Cups. Yet there’s been less time for reminiscing, for spending time with friends and family and playing in the sunshine. So you can imagine my heightened confusion when the next card I drew was The Sun.
Why such positive cards? Is there something I’m forgetting, something I’m missing? Am I to read these as predictions, as summaries, as something else? These thoughts kept running through my head. It’s a good thing I’ve been so busy with other things, or they might have driven me up the wall. Until a day or two ago, when I drew a card that finally made sense: The Chariot. Of course, here we have a very physical movement, indicating my impending move to Hanover to spend the summer with Matt. Though naturally, I stared at it and thought, well, I already knew that. Yesterday, I drew two more cards: The Hanged Man followed by the 6 of Swords. The Hanged Man was upright, interestingly enough – probably one of the most interesting cards to use reversals with, though it’s no longer my style. He leapt up decidedly that way, so I decided he meant to. Well, naturally, an upright Hanged Man would indicate someone who’s already seeing things in a new perspective, rather than someone who needs to. Sacrifices have already been made, and the world is clear (though a bit topsy-turvy, for someone whose ankle is tied to an upside-down tree). Coupled with the 6 of Swords - another card indicating movement from one place to another, from one world to the next – this screamed the words “beginning anew,” with the Chariot pushing this once upside-down man and once trial-ridden woman into place. And suddenly it all made sense.
This wasn’t about explaining the present, or proving the past, or predicting the future. This wasn’t even about stating the obvious. It was about reminders. Reminders of things that lie in wait, of things that influence my day-to-day activity, things that inspire me to move forward. It’s not about grand gestures or life-changing moments, despite the abundance of major arcana. It’s about the little things that go unnoticed, the things that are ever-present and always developing and increasing in value. And I have these things. I have love and memories and optimism to carry me forward, and I have them even more concretely lying ahead of me. This isn’t about knowing what’s happening, or learning what I have in store. It’s about remembering what gets me there.
