I used to enjoy reading tarot cards for friends and acquaintances but stopped some years ago; exhausted by people taking it for granted.  It is a double-edged blade admitting you know how to read tarot.  Either people categorise you as looney and credulous – making no bones they think you probably believe you are a witch – or they immediately manifest as needy and demanding of having the cards read.  The latter are often worse.  Over the years many tried to figure out what trick I was playing or catch me out or blame me when they didn’t like what the reading said.  All this for taking the time to do a favour to someone who purported friendship or was a friend of a friend.  I have never charged for it; although invariably when I do a reading I am told by the beneficiary they pay significant sums to others for such readings.  The needy disdain of demanding ungrateful people I read for tainted my enjoyment of something that I used to consider myself pretty good at.

A lot of reading cards has to do with introspection; self-knowledge; awareness of human nature; and knowing how to weave the connections between loose threads of ideas.  It is telling a story from a few indicators.  After time away from it I figured now is as good a time as any to see if it can help me out of a philosophical impasse I have been stuck in for quite some time.  For over a decade before I stopped I would often get cards indicating my life would turn around through the influence of the King of Pentacles (whoever or wherever the King may be).  And while my cards for the year 2023 seem to tell me clearly to leave drudgery behind and write write write; I should be done with long days of worker ant like repetitive tasks and move to greater expression; the bloody King of Pentacles popped out again just to muddy the water and say if I win I lose.  If I advance I fall. 

The cards really are very pretty though.  Don’t you think?