This is the description for the tarot cateogry and it will go here.



Thirty Days of Tarot class starting August 1

Thirty days of Tarot: A Tarot e-course


I’ve been just itch­ing to teach a Tarot class.


I wanted it to be per­fect. I wanted it to be com­pre­hen­sive. I wanted it to be as thor­ough an intro­duc­tion to Tarot div­ina­tion as my Lenor­mand classes are.

And it hasn’t happened.


Part of it, I’m a per­fec­tion­ist. Part of it, I have a LOT going on. And the other part—well, the Tarot has always com­manded me in a way no other ora­cle or div­ina­tion sys­tem has. It’s my heart­beat. It’s my blood. I love these cards. I love them. How could I teach them in a way that hon­ors my love for them?

It’s now or never.

But lately I’ve been sort­ing things out. And on that bucket list of mine is the Tarot class. So I dug out all the mate­ri­als, exer­cises, notes, and exper­i­ments I’ve been gath­er­ing the last five or so years, and I thought, what the hell? There’s about six more weeks of sum­mer left before fall creeps in and the kid­dos go back to school. I want to do sum­mer camp: Tarot style.

Enter: Thirty Days of Tarot

I’ve cre­ated this course, not to be an intro­duc­tion to Tarot, but rather, to be an intro­duc­tion to the kind of play and immer­sion that’s pos­si­ble with the Tarot. Each day, a new les­son will be pub­lished on the site (and stu­dents will get this via email as well). The lessons include invi­ta­tions to dig in, each day, to cre­ate a daily Tarot prac­tice that incor­po­rates the cards in dif­fer­ent areas of life—from the rit­ual to the mundane.

A full course descrip­tion, les­son list and FAQ is avail­able on Cour­seCraft.

You can join me for Thirty Days of Tarot for $29. Camp begins August 1.

Thirty Days of Tarot Class

Loneliness in the tarot

Over the week­end, I had a con­ver­sa­tion with a lonely per­son. I was chat­ting with a friend out­side a pub when he approached us and struck up a con­ver­sa­tion. He tried to make a con­nec­tion with us by shar­ing sto­ries about his expen­sive homes and cars, but unable to impress, he awk­wardly retreated back to the bar. Later at home, I started think­ing about that man and looked him up in the Tarot, as I do some­times with peo­ple and sit­u­a­tions. I found him (can you guess which card?) and then I sorted through and found seven other cards where I saw lone­li­ness indi­cated. The more I looked at the cards, the more I found they fell into two dis­tinct groups. This is how lone­li­ness shows up in a tarot read­ing, by shut­ting down and build­ing walls, or by retreat­ing inward and away.

This post is a mon­ster, so grab a cup of cof­fee before you continue! ;)

Con­tinue read­ing

Video review: The Dark Goddess Tarot

I was happy to be on the gift­ing end of a copy of the Dark God­dess Tarot by Ellen Lorenzi Prince. When I orig­i­nally saw the images of the cards online, I didn’t feel drawn to them, despite the appeal­ing sub­ject mat­ter. After hav­ing a copy of the cards in my hands though, I must admit to being a lit­tle more than smitten.

The deck has a deep, moody appeal−similar to how I feel when I have my much loved Mary-el in my hands. The card art is just lovely and the grey bor­ders aren’t over­whelm­ing or intru­sive like the Jolanda Tarot (which I trimmed).

I was lucky enough to receive a copy of the com­pan­ion book too—and I’m so glad I did, because this meaty deck offers a LOT to chew on with just one or two cards. Each draw deserves it’s own bit of intro­spec­tion and reflection—and research, yes. Vol­umes could be writ­ten about all the dark, fem­i­nine ener­gies rep­re­sented in this Tarot, and the com­pan­ion guide offers a jump­ing off point for going deeper, dig­ging in, and expand­ing aware­ness, not just of the self through the lens of the read­ing, but also of the his­tory, cul­tural con­text, and broad appeal of god­dess lore from around the world.

This wouldn’t be a deck I would rec­om­mend for a stu­dent get­ting started in the Tarot, but for a ded­i­cant of the God­dess, in all forms She takes, the Dark God­dess Tarot will be a much beloved with­mate.

Overwhelm and the Ten of Wands


The 10 of Wands star­ring the Sassy Sibyl with her OSU sock hat because win­ter is relentless.

I can’t think of a sin­gle card in the Minor Arcana of the Tarot that fits my life any bet­ter than the 10 of Wands.  What do you see when you look at the card? Your­self? What do you feel? I feel tired. The way I feel after work­ing in the office all day and then cook­ing din­ner, run­ning around to play­dates and base­ball prac­tices, before com­ing home to clean up and do laun­dry while the rest of the world is tuck­ing itself into bed.

And all while Mer­cury is ret­ro­grade!

I’m not com­plain­ing. I love the work I do. And I love my kids. But dang, I’m overwhelmed.

There are some ways to think about the Ten of Wands that may help, if you’re feel­ing the same kind of pres­sure to DO IT ALL (if I ever write a mem­oir, I’m going to call it, How to do it All). Pixie (or Art, maybe it was Art, who can know, really?) dropped key clues in this card to help us out.

First of all, 10 of Wands dude is CUT. Look at those biceps! He’s built for this kind of work. And you don’t get that by sit­ting around and then sud­denly hav­ing the world drop into your arms. He’s been prepar­ing for this moment for a long time, all his life maybe. And now that he’s got an arm­ful, he’s able and deter­mined to not drop anything.

Those sticks are sprout­ing. Look! Lit­tle green shoots. It’s not like he’s car­ry­ing this stuff for noth­ing. These are going to grow into some­thing amaz­ing. The effort put into the long haul is going to pay off.

He’s going some­where. Not only that, he’s going to what looks like a cas­tle. I don’t know about you guys, but if I get to go to a cas­tle, I’ll carry some pretty heavy shit. Let me re-illustrate for you so the goal is more obvious:


Worth it, right?

But the last lit­tle thing I’ll point out about the 10 of Wands is that our heavy lifter picked up this bur­den delib­er­ately. There was a method to the madness—see how the wands are crossed so they don’t slip out of his hands? It’s hard as hell, sure, but attack­ing your to-do list with a sense of inten­tion and an out­look for the big­ger pic­ture makes the load seem a lit­tle lighter.

Not con­vinced?

I know, you’re think­ing, “But Mel, I don’t want to be over­whelmed. I don’t want to carry heavy crap around all day long! I’m a del­i­cate Dowa­ger Countess!”

I hear you. And that’s the other side of the Ten of Wands. This card is about commitments—and while run­ning around and pick­ing up sticks, one of the things we might have inad­ver­tently com­mit­ted our­selves to, is being over­whelmed.

When you draw the Ten of Wands in a read­ing, consider:

  • What am I car­ry­ing? Just how much am I weighed down?
  • How have I pre­pared myself to han­dle this? (Don’t worry about how you’re not pre­pared, that’s not help­ful. Besides, you can make it up as you go along, so long as you keep going.)
  • What’s the end goal? Why am I doing all that I’m doing?

You’ll have a pretty good idea by that point if you’re actu­ally work­ing out of stead­fast deter­mi­na­tion, or over-committed to goals that won’t serve you. That hap­pens to me some­times. A com­mit­tee, a book club, or even a new job sounds really good in the moment, but if I’m not care­ful to exam­ine my moti­va­tions and inten­tions, I can eas­ily over­stretch myself. Then the card becomes about set­ting bound­aries and know­ing when it’s appro­pri­ate to say, “No thanks!” and walk away.

Luck­ily the Tarot has a few exam­ples we can fol­low down that route too, which I will present here with­out fur­ther com­men­tary at this point (I’m sure I’ll cir­cle back to these cards later). Feel free to use these mantras as needed.



Let’s talk in the com­ments:
How do you han­dle over­whelm? When you’re in a Ten of Wands sit­u­a­tion, what’s your cop­ing strategy?

How do you keep over­whelm at bay?