![]() It was also a fine substitute for prayer, until it slowly became no longer the substitute but the substance.Ī few years ago my family and I moved to New York City and rented an apartment on the Upper East Side. I loved registering my ever-changing reactions to these images and seeing myself, good and bad, reflected in them. I loved getting to know characters like the Fool and the Empress, the Knights and Queens. But I loved creating a quiet space to pull cards and sit with them. I never used it for divination, because I’ve never believed in divination. I quickly fell in love with how tarot scratched my itch for the ritual of religion, and how it made me feel seen. I had left the Catholicism of my childhood in my late teens because of a forbidden-to-me longing for priesthood, and then I had stayed away from church for a long time because I was tired of being told I wasn’t good enough. I also bought a tarot deck because I missed the intentionality of prayer. I was 25 years old, mothering two sons under the age of two, and struggling with the particular invisibility that often accompanies that kind of caretaking. In the spring of 2015, I bought a tarot deck because I was lonely and bored. ![]()
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