Oh, hello there! It’s so nice to have you here. You look like someone who’s been shuffling a lot of cards lately—there’s that little papercut on your thumb, and you keep glancing at it like it’s a secret message. Don’t worry—I do that too. I once thought a hangnail was a sign from the universe that I should start a bakery, and while I did not start a bakery, I did buy a very nice apron, which I now use as a tablecloth. So you see? Everything works out, even when it doesn’t make sense.
But here’s the thing I wanted to talk to you about. You know that one card—the one you keep skipping? The one that slides out of the deck every single time, no matter how many times you shuffle, and you just sort of… pretend you didn’t see it? You shove it back in, or you set it aside and say, “Oh, that’s for later,” and then later never comes. I used to do that. I did it so much that my deck started to feel lopsided. One side was all fluffy clouds and happy wands, and the other side was just… her.
The card I skipped was The Tower. Every time. Every single time. And I thought I was being smart, you know? I thought, “Why would I want to look at a card that’s just a bunch of people falling off a building? That’s rude. That’s not helpful. That’s the kind of thing you see in a horror movie and then you can’t eat popcorn for a week because it reminds you of falling rubble.” So I skipped it. I skipped it so many times that one day, I realized I had no idea what The Tower actually meant. I’d never even stopped to read the little book that comes with the deck. I just saw the lightning and the flames and thought, “Nope, not today, thank you.”
But here’s the thing I’ve learned, very slowly, with a lot of stubbed toes and misplaced keys: the cards you skip are the ones that are trying to help you the most. They’re not the scary ones. They’re the ones that are tired of being ignored. They’re like that friend who keeps calling and you keep sending it to voicemail, and eventually they show up at your door with a casserole and a very serious expression. And you have to eat the casserole. That’s the lesson. You have to eat the casserole.
So let’s do a little forensic inventory together, okay? I want you to think about the last five readings you did—or didn’t do, because you kept skipping. What card was it? Was it The Moon, with all its creepy shadows and howling dogs? I skipped that one for a whole month because I thought it was about werewolves. (It’s not about werewolves, but I still think it should be. I’d be way more interested in a werewolf card. “The Werewolf: You will transform into something hairy and misunderstood. Also, check your pantry for silver.”) Or maybe it was Death. Oh, I know everyone skips Death. But I once pulled Death and then I lost my favorite sock, and I thought, “See? It’s death of the sock! That’s fine!” And then I found the sock three days later under the couch, and I realized Death was just telling me to clean under the couch. So it was actually very practical.
The card you keep skipping is probably not as bad as you think. It might be annoying. It might be uncomfortable. But it’s not here to ruin your day. It’s here to say, “Hey, look at this thing you’ve been pretending isn’t there.” And you know what? That thing might be small. It might be a forgotten appointment. It might be an email you’re afraid to open. It might be that you’ve been using your tarot deck as a coaster, and the Justice card has a coffee ring on it, and you feel bad about it. (I have done this. Justice now looks like a very earnest judge who also works at a diner.)
So here is my advice, from one blissfully confused traveler to another: pull that card. Pull it right now. If you’re reading this and you have your deck nearby—and I hope you do, because decks love being nearby; they get lonely—just pull it. Don’t think. Don’t worry. Put it on the table. Look at it. If it’s The Tower, say, “Hello, Tower. Thank you for your dramatic architecture.” If it’s The Moon, say, “Hello, Moon. I hope you’re having a good night.” If it’s Death, say, “Hello, Death. Please don’t take my other sock.”
You might find that the card you’ve been skipping is actually very tired. It just wants to be seen. It’s been waiting for you. And when you finally look at it, you’ll realize it wasn’t a warning at all. It was a question—and you finally have the courage to answer.
The only thing that ever falls from a tower is the idea that you were standing on something solid.