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All Hands On Deck

Clearing out and going through my mother’s belongings has been an interesting experience for me. Seeing all these things that I remember from my childhood and feeling almost constantly nostalgic about ‘the good old days’ while being so grateful that I was able to salvage what I could. Among the treasures was something that has been calling to me for quite a while. My mother’s Tarot cards.

When I was 9 I was poking through my mother’s drawers and I found her stash. A small film canister with some seeds and stems, a few negatives with shadowy figures and a deck of cards in an old wool sock. The cards totally captured my attention and seemed to vibrate in my hand. My mother came in and found me sitting on her bed flipping through the cards admiring the artwork and quickly took them away from me with a promise that some day she would show me how to use them.

She never did show me and because of the complicated nature of our relationship, I avoided ever having anything to do with Tarot cards for quiet some time. Until one day a very dear (and very intuitive) friend of mine handed me a deck simply saying ‘These are yours.” and my fascination was re-kindled. I have come to adore my cards and the help that they provide and feel that they are a tool that I was always meant to use.

My mother’s illness has progressed to a point that she doesn’t even recall what Tarot is and is unable to teach me anything about it. Her cards have been tucked away in the back of her drawer for 30 years waiting for me and now they are finally in my hands again. I feel a little bit like they are an ancestral birthright that I was always meant to have. Thankfully I can still learn from them without my mother’s participation. They have so much to share with me.



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