SpellWork: Do You Believe in Tarot Cards?
More to the point: Do you believe in tarot card readers? I'm right between "yes" and "no" on this one. Here's why.
SpellWork is a direct reflection of my witchcraft practice. I’m not a traditional witch, and belong to no coven—think of me as a lone hedge witch.
While they’re certainly in vogue now, it wasn’t so long ago that tarot cards were considered uncommon and vaguely demonic—especially in the Philippines, where I grew up.
Tarot cards mean so much more to me than other occult-related tools and practices. You could say that these cards played a huge part in my spiritual maturity and my life philosophy in general.
Divining Truths Instead of Telling Fortunes
When I first picked up tarot cards, I found the deck easy and comfortable to handle. While I read instructions and reference materials, it just felt easier to go with my gut—as I’d often seen fortune-tellers do when they read my parents and grandparents.
(I wrote and then promptly deleted a digression here about how tarot cards were the reason I stopped being a devout Catholic. You don’t need the specifics of what happened. I was a passionate Jesus camper and then I was not. The end—or, as the case may be for this oversharing newsletter, a story for another Sunday. Back to tarot cards!)
It took me a long time to open up about my practice, and even longer to agree to read anyone. When I did, I was met with positive feedback—which scared me into stopping completely.
Why? It’s not about telling fortunes or predicting the future. Not discounting the possibility of others actually being able to do this, but it’s not my reality. Tarot cards activate my intuition, contextualize my observations, and guide my actions. But even if I’m sure, I’m not infallible. I’m still just guessing. But maybe the idea that it’s just instinctive guesswork wouldn’t be clear to people asking for readings.
Who wants to mess with that kind of responsibility? I probably thought that back then. I put my cards away because I wasn’t ready for people to trust my words—because I didn’t even trust myself. Who was I to get down to the bottom of things?
Losing Religion and Searching for a Solution
When I stopped identifying as a Catholic, my spiritual journey slowly ground to a halt.
I didn’t realize it back then, but the hypocrisy and betrayal—which I should have seen coming from a mile away—were crushing and traumatic. I found friends and a community by being religious. When I chose to stand up for what I believed in, I left all of that behind. I was alone.
Sure, I dabbled in tarot cards. I spent months in my university’s main library reading up on Philippine mythologies, particularly Tagalog. I was looking for a place, a feeling, a belief—anything—to call me by name and say, “Welcome home.” There was only an uneasy silence.
Why did I think that replacing one religion with another was the solution? Perhaps I missed the familiarity of belonging. I wanted acceptance from others when I really should have been nurturing acceptance of and within myself.
Getting Back Into the Shuffle
Let’s skip ahead—about 15 or so years—to today. I’m reading tarot cards again, for myself, using the same deck from my twenties. What changed?
Acceptance, pure and simple. I listen to myself before I listen to others now, and this bitch KNOWS HER SHIT. 🤣—at least, when it comes to my own traumas and learned responses. I get it now. I’m not thrashing or stumbling in the dark, not knowing why I react the way I do. I’m not lost. I just didn’t grow up mapping my way around myself.
When I was younger, my intuition scared me. My instinct was obscured by distrust and fear of believing in my power. I don’t have time for that anymore. It’s not a good use of my limited energy. So I sit with myself and ask for advice. Sometimes, I get an answer.
Tarot cards help. I still don’t believe in fortune-telling. But I can feel how this humble tool pulls insight from the far reaches of my subconscious. I believe tarot teaches me that I already know the answers to my questions. I just need to know where to find them.
As a non-practicing librarian, I think of tarot cards as the card catalog to the inner workings of my soul. The Major and Minor Arcana are my Dewey Decimal System—or, because I contain multitudes and don’t want anything to do with the initialism “DDS” (whatever it may mean), my Library of Congress.
Reading Tarot Cards: What Has It Done For Me?
If you follow me on Instagram or Twitter, you’re probably familiar with my daily practice of shuffling and choosing one card to guide me throughout the next 24 hours.
It’s a habit I’m still building, after months—perhaps even years—of keeping my tarot deck in a safe place. I took them out now and then to remember and relearn what I loved about reading cards. One day, I took them out and moved them, unprompted, to a reachable location within my line of sight. That was the sign I needed.
Sometimes, I draw a card and need to sit with it for more a long time to figure out what it means. I can take anywhere from minutes to hours. But I always get the message, eventually. And it always feels like the cards are telling me to trust my gut.
Again: To me, tarot is not for fortune-telling. It’s to practice trusting in myself.
What do you do to practice trusting, believing, loving, and counting on yourself? Tarot works for me, but it might not work for you. I want to know what other tools are out there. Let’s get to know ourselves—and each other—together.
Photo by Viva Luna Studios on Unsplash
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