About a year ago I sat with the resident tarot intuitive, Uma Simon, at Kashi Florida and had my cards read. About a year previous to this she did a reading for me over the phone. At the conclusion of this reading, I told her that I, too, once read cards. I hadn’t realized I’d been missing it until the admission fell from my lips.
I’d stopped reading tarot cards when I realized how ardently I’d been wrestling with them. Somewhere between terrible romantic relationships for my entire adult life and going into yoga teacher training I became exhausted by the various methods of mental and energetic martial arts I employed against the Universe. My plea was often, “Tell me what in the f*ck to do!” while attempting to get the Cosmos to submit in a badly executed leg lock.
Uma gave me some advice at the end of that conversation that opened the door to reading cards without the plastic and superficial focus of fortune telling. It seems when we try to foresee the future it can cheapen the moment; from this I have learned from my renewed interest in tarot that what it really deals with is the present moment and everything we bring with us into it. It deals with the same space as meditation and other spiritual practices, making tarot its own sadhana. In this way, tarot may offer inspiration and perspective without the gravity of neediness that accompanies the desperation of, “Tell me what in the f*ck to do!”
I’d gotten rid of all my decks except for the Ancient Egyptian Tarot, which interestingly can be found on Amazon right now for about three hundred dollars, used. No you can’t have mine and no, it isn’t for sale. I also kept the Tarot of the Cat People and Halloween Tarot, all of which I kept with the same reverence I store old paperback romance novels I can’t bring myself to get rid of, up to and including Quantum Leap fan fiction (I am not kidding).
Invigorated by my conversation with Uma, I began buying new decks. I relish the new, independent decks out there now, from the wild and naked She Wolfe Tarot to the demure, tea stained Ophidia Rosa Tarot. Dear Reader, I became a tarot slut. I love being able to look at the cards online before I buy the deck and all the unboxing videos. I think the colors and audacity and sometimes irreverent simplicity of twenty-first century decks are amazing. I feel like a time traveler in a new era. I also bought the Rider-Waite Smith deck because that is what Uma used and I wanted to have it in my collection as an homage to her because she empowered my reading so sincerely.
My most recent purchase is Mystic Mondays – Good Vibes Only – which is an independently published tarot deck that probably went through a fundraising cycle for its first few incarnations before getting picked up by a publisher (congratulations). I’ve looked at this deck before and thought to myself, “Prana Devi, you can’t take all of them home.”
Some of you may remember Monastic Mondays, a practice I had years ago when I was in teacher training. Sometimes called my Pants-less Holiday, I’d resolve not to do anything any more necessary than meditate, write and possibly go for a run (I would wear pants for that). Monday is a day sacred to Shiva, so I adopted this practice as a devotional practice, sometimes doing a semi-fast or practicing a coffee puja – you know, normal stuff.
It was the one day of the week on which I was uncompromising. I wouldn’t take or make an appointment, I wouldn’t even leave the house. This time of hermitage is important and sacred because I work in the public, with the public, almost every other day of the week. But then I started teaching yoga, which in some ways is just another way of working with the public, even though you can usually assume the clientele will behave a little less like the damn public and a little more like human beings.
I taught two classes on Monday, adding this to my schedule thinking that teaching a yoga class couldn’t possibly impinge on my monastic holiday but would, in fact, enhance it. Teaching yoga is a sacred offering, after all. Y’all, I was a new teacher and didn’t know any better. By the time I realized I’d sold my only sacrosanct day of the week it was too late; the studio owner held my feet to the fire. Of course, I allowed it, so bad on me.
When the Mystic Mondays tarot crossed my screen on Instagram with the announcement that this was the last round of self-published decks and the next batch would be printed by a publisher (congratulations) I felt a flutter of panic because there is something innately special about the effort and quality of the self-published tarot deck. They seem to have a little more of the artists’ hand on them, they are a little closer to the origin of all art. So I visited the website, where I read the inspiration for Mystic Mondays tarot: The name Mystic Mondays is inspired by fresh starts and new beginnings. We have the power to set intentions that will carry on with us for the day, week, year, or even a lifetime. Mystic Mondays is a lighthearted way to introduce spirituality into your daily life, and most of all, to have some fun while you’re doing it!
I realized I previously treated Monday like a reset point, a day home following sometimes grueling weekends of restaurant work. Monday, of all days, was a daylong spiritual retreat. I found for myself something opposite of the Monday blues, where we set and forget intentions for our day, week, year or lifetime.
Mystic Mondays arrived on Monday, which I take as an auspicious sign. My life is different than it was when I was in teacher training, I am busier but the nature of my work is no longer chaotic. I’m not strung out with the dogged determination to be a full-time yoga teacher; I am content right now with the work I do because of the freedom it gives me. Even so, I go through days when I think about challenging the Universe, to rush and wrestle, perhaps against the stream, for the life I imagined for myself eight or ten years ago.
I’m inspired anew to take these goals, intentions and moments of simple being Monday to Monday, perhaps day by day, and if I’m really smart, moment to moment. The future is waiting ahead of a million choices and breaths, the past can not breathe for us. But in the moment is where every inspiration has been brought through into reality. The moment is where I wish to sit, enlivened perhaps by brightly colored pictures of inspiration and perspective.