Death. That was my tarot card for the month of August.
If I had to sum up that experience, it was the following realization, on repeat:
Huh. That thing that I’ve been doing for decades—it’s not really working, is it? 🤔
Through dreamwork + journaling + working with my spirit guides, I’ve been unraveling a tangled knot of approval-seeking, which, as gnarly as it’s been at times, has also been gloriously liberating.
I’d planned to go more in depth about that today, but I’m finishing the third draft of The Magician & the Labyrinth of Yesterdays, my next romantasy novel, and I don’t have enough spoons to do both this week.
Instead, I want to share this…
As part of the approval-unraveling, I identified a very specific archetypal energy that wants to be expressed through my life, and also through my romance novels. I’ll talk more about that in future essays, but to help me become a more effective channel for this energy, I did a one-card tarot draw.
I’ve been using The Wildwood Tarot quite a bit lately; it’s the deck I used for my year-ahead spread that yielded last month’s Death card (aka The Journey in the Wildwood deck).
I pulled the Ace of Bows, and the intuitive message was immediate, a neon sign blazing across the screen of my mind. Let me walk you through my reading to illustrate how to interpret a card intuitively.
Intuitive Tarot Reading
My eye landed first on the fiery glow. I could feel that smolder of energy in my body as I gazed at the card, an irrepressible urge to express my creativity. The feeling is unmistakable, and it’s distinct from carrying out projects from a place of approval-seeking (including my own approval).
These spark-filled creative projects have a life of their own; it’s more that they have a hold of me than the other way around.
💡 Let your eye lead the way. What part of the image is it drawn to first? When you gaze at this element, what arises?
My eye then traveled up the arrow to the bow, which delivered a strong sense of needing to aim that fiery energy for maximum effect. It’s not enough to feel the spark—I need to take action.
The key, though, is that spark and the action must be linked.
💡 What are you drawn to next? How is this element linked to the first? Let your intuition answer that question as opposed to seeking a “logical” connection.
Too often, I’ve felt the spark, gotten all fired up, and then convinced myself I needed to focus on something else, something more serious or responsible or effective, or whatever adjectives my ego thinks are sufficiently weighty enough to garner other people’s and my own approval.
And poof! Out goes the spark.
My romance novels, on the other hand, have been an exercise in spark-tending and fire-throwing, though I didn’t know that when I started.
Spark-tending couldn’t be more different than should-ing. Even with my health issues, which set my baseline energy much lower than I’m used to, this project gives more energy than it takes—which is mind boggling to me at times, because I spend a lot of time on it. Like, a lot. The fact that I can be more energized as a result feels like magic, every single time.
So, in short, the message of the card was…
Stop smothering your spark with shoulds.
Every time I smother the spark, it’s a little death.
I’m killing my own creativity, laboring under the illusion that this is what’s required to succeed/fit in/be loved.
But every time I choose to tend it, to fan those flames even a little, I’m choosing life. Creative life. Soul life. The life that actually belongs to me.
So on this Harvest Moon, I’m asking myself—and you—what wants to live through us right now?
Stop smothering your spark with shoulds.
Because when you tend the spark, even with the smallest action, you choose life. You choose magic. You choose yourself.
Happy Full Moon, my friend.
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