‘Tis the season for spooky things, and nothing gets people screaming quite like tarot cards. They are evil. They are magical. They’re scary. They’re pretty. Whatever your experience, tarot cards are everywhere this time of year. I’ve always been fascinated by tarot, but I keep a deal with myself to take it all with a grain of salt. Like a horoscope, tarot is open to change and interpretation.
Tarot began as a card game called tarocchi in 15th-century Italy. Back then, it was simply a deck of playing cards with four suits and special face cards that held different meanings for a parlor game. It wasn’t until 18th-century France, amid a wave of curiosity in mysticism and esotericism, that tarot became a tool for divination.
Now, there are thousands of decks—everything from Jane Austen to Dungeons & Dragons. Most have seventy-eight cards: twenty-two Major Arcana (like the face cards) and fifty-six Minor Arcana, divided into four suits. Traditionally, those suits correspond to the four elements and areas of life: Wands (fire, passion, action), Cups (water, emotions, relationships), Swords (air, intellect, conflict), and Pentacles (earth, finances, the material world).
What fascinates me most is the timeline element—tarot reflects change, just like life. Recently, I brought my decks to work for a tarot reading and art appreciation activity. I wasn’t sure how the senior citizens would respond, but to my surprise, they loved it. As they poured over my five different decks, I shared some tarot basics and the unique flair of each set.
My collection includes the classic Rider-Waite-Smith deck with a Tiffany-blue design, a Labyrinth-themed deck (yes, with David Bowie energy), the Critical Role 10th Anniversary deck—by far the most visually stunning, a learning deck with the meanings printed around each card, perfect for beginners, and an adorable one-inch keychain deck, because why not keep magic on you at all times?
I offered simple one-card readings to seven people. The one-card pull is my favorite—easy, direct, and surprisingly insightful. Here’s how I do it: shuffle the deck three times (because three is a magic number according to science, math, and creation). If I’m reading for someone else, I invite them to hold the deck close while thinking about their question. I never need to know what it is—in fact, I prefer not to. When I don’t know the question, I can’t influence the interpretation, and it becomes their moment of insight.
Next, they split the deck into three piles, restack however they like, and choose a card. Some close their eyes and hover their fingers over the deck; others pick one that “just feels right.” I place the chosen card upright and invite them to really look at it—what it depicts, what they notice, how it feels.
That’s when the magic happens. Tarot is a deeply subjective experience, and people almost always find their question mirrored in the card. Every single time, they said the card connected to what they were thinking. Every. Single. Time.
Then, I offer them the chance to ask a follow-up question or draw a second card. Sometimes I’ll share my own interpretation, connecting the card’s imagery to what they’ve said.
One of my favorite moments was when a resident’s second card showed a character wearing an outfit nearly identical to hers—same color, same pattern! Her reading reflected feelings of isolation and a need to reach out more. The “matching” card felt like a wink from the universe, urging her to take action.
Another reading involved a card that showed someone rising above chaos. But it was reversed—meaning the person felt buried under the chaos instead. Their follow-up card was Justice, and I told them it seemed like they were trying to lead with compassion but might need to stand in their power and make a firm decision. They lit up and said that interpretation hit home.
Whether you adore tarot or roll your eyes at it, it’s hard to deny its beauty. Tarot decks are like portable art museums—there’s one for every taste, mood, or fandom. Maybe tarot is magical. Maybe it’s just cardboard and ink. But maybe, when we’re honest, the cards don’t tell us anything new. They just give us a beautiful excuse to listen to what our souls already know.
Music: "Witchy Woman" by Eagles
