tarot – Page 3 – Just the Tarot

Taking Religion Out of the Tarot – A Look at the Real Tarot Deck

For centuries, Christianity condemned Tarot as witchcraft — yet hidden Christian symbols helped the cards survive the Inquisition. This post uncovers how those overlays disguised the deck’s true archetypal roots.

“Are Tarot cards evil?”

That’s one of the most common Google searches on the Tarot and I assume it comes from people who were raised as, “good Christian folks.” After all, for centuries Christianity has railed against the Tarot. Preachers and pastors are still screaming that the cards are the gateways to the Devil and dangerous tools of shadowy occultists.

One of the weird things about that is the Tarot actually contains a strong Christian thread that was intentionally stitched into the deck as camouflage. It’s chock full of angels and not so subtle allusions to the Bible. Without them, the Tarot would never have survived the Inquisition.

So let’s take a little closer look at how the Church’s iron grip shaped the early Tarot, what Christian symbols were embedded to disguise it, and what the cards may have actually looked like before that clever cover was sewn in.

TAROT WAS BORN IN DANGEROUS TIMES

The first historical references to the Tarot are in Europe in the 1450s. Right in the middle of one of history’s most brutal religious crackdowns: the Inquisition. It’s hard for us to imagine it today, but ANY sort of fortune telling or divination could mean an automatic death sentence.

The Bible was explicit in its warnings. Leviticus 19:31 commands: “Do not turn to mediums or necromancers; do not seek them out, and so make yourselves unclean by them.”

We may casually lay out a reading today, curious as to what the cards can tell us. To the Church, though, there was nothing casual about it. It was witchcraft. And witchcraft meant torture, trials, and being put to a horrible death.

The death toll from the Inquisition is still debated. Some historians estimate the death toll from the Catholic Church’s witch hunts as, “low” as 30,000 victims. Others, like Leonard Shlain in, “The Alphabet Versus the Goddess” place the number as high as 10 million.

Whatever the numbers actually were, the climate of terror was real, daily, and all pervasive. So how did the Tarot survive?

HOW THE TAROT HID IN PLAIN SIGHT

The disguise of what the Tarot actually is was quite brilliant.

First, the makers announced that it was a card game, plain and simple. Nothing to see here. It’s just poker, only with archetypes.

And then they wove Christian symbols directly into the deck.

Take The World card. It’s four corner symbols – lion, ox, eagle, and angel – aren’t just random. They’re the traditional symbols of the four evangelists: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

Even more striking are the Four Cardinal Virtues, lifted straight out of Catholic theology:

Justice

Temperance

Fortitude (Strength)

Prudence

By embedding these virtues, the creators of the deck could claim that the Tarot promoted Christian morality rather than undermining it. It was a survival tactic: “See – these aren’t pagan symbols. Ripping up a Tarot deck is just like ripping up a Bible.”

Prudence eventually vanished from the deck (see my previous post, “Dear Prudence – The Mysterious Case of the Missing Tarot Card”), but the other three virtues remain mainstays of the Major Arcana to this day.

WHAT DID THE ORIGINAL DECK LOOK LIKE?

So what happens if we get rid of the Christian overlays, the cards that don’t really belong in the deck?

What remains are the raw archetypes. Timeless figures like The Fool, The Magician, The Lovers, The Devil, The Wheel of Fortune and Death. Those cards pulse with universal energies that transcend any single religion.

A question that arises naturally out of this is: if we’re getting rid of the Virtue cards, why not get rid of The Hierophant, too? After all, it was originally known as, “The Pope,” and what could be more Catholic than that? The answer is The Hierophant is nothing but The High Priest in disguise and is the partner card to The High Priestess in the same way that the Emperor is linked to The Empress.

Beneath the Christian veneer lies a much older symbolic system, one that might have looked very different if it hadn’t been forced to wear this mask.

WHERE DID THE TAROT REALLY COME FROM?

Contrary to many modern assumptions, the Tarot did NOT evolve out of Christianity.

Instead, it seems to have appeared fully formed in the mid-1400s, as though it had been carried forward from some older source. What that source was – Ancient Egypt or an even older, lost esoteric tradition – remains a mystery.

What’s clear is this: the Christian layer was camouflage, not origin. It was a survival strategy, not a birthing.

SEEING THE REAL DECK

The, ‘Christian Themes’ in the Tarot were never a part of the original deck. They were just part of a clever disguise to get past the censors of the Inquisition.

When we peel back that layer, what we find is a universal language of archetypes. The Fool, Magician, Death, The Star – these are symbols that speak to something much deeper than mere religious dogma.

And so the question remains: when we lay the cards out today, are we seeing the archetypes themselves? Or the clever veil that once kept them alive?

“Just the Tarot” by Daniel Adair – a kindle ebook available on amazon.

Sex and The Devil Card – Time for a New Definition?

This is an exploration of the meaning and definition of The Devil tarot card. Is it time to de-sexualize it?

It may be time to take the sex out of The Devil card, or at least scale it way back.

When we look at the traditional definitions of The Devil, he’s a pretty horny guy. He’s linked with illicit affairs, cheating on your spouse, sexual “perversions,” and a variety of scandalous behaviors that good, decent folks just don’t do!

But maybe he’s been typecast.

THE LOVERS AND THE DEVIL – SAME COUPLE ON A DIFFERENT DATE

If you hold up The Lovers and The Devil side by side, you can’t help but notice that they’re the same couple.

In The Lovers, they’re radiant and glowing. They even have an angel hovering over them to let us know that their love is blessed by heaven above.

Fast forward to The Devil and we see them with chains, horns, and flaming tails. There’s a serious, “We may have made some questionable choices,” vibe.

Which begs the question: what happened to these two? Did they skip couples therapy and just dive straight into the underworld? Did he leave the toilet seat up one too many times?

A QUICK HISTORY LESSON

The Tarot as we know it shows up in the 1450s – prime time for the Catholic Inquisition. This was NOT an era noted for swingers or free love. Sexual morality was tightly policed: adultery, premarital affairs, straying outside of monogamy, even masturbation could get you killed by the Bible Police.

So when Tarot artists painted two nude figures on a card, everyone knew what that meant. It meant . . . you know . . . S – E – X. But, nude figures with angel = good, approved sex and nude figures with devil = bad, nasty sex.

Boom – association locked in.

FAST FORWARD TO MODERN TIMES

But here we are in the 21st Century and, my oh my, how things have changed.

Remember just a few years ago when people were totally titillated by the book (and movie) “Fifty Shades of Gray?” It’s nothing but an exploration of bondage and domination dressed up as a novel and – despite the fact that it may have been one of the worst written books in history – it sold over 150 million copies.

We know that people were doing a lot more than just reading it, too, because emergency room visits related to sex toys jumped up by over 50%. They were actively checking out those techniques, not just reading about them.

We also know that over a third of Americans admit to cheating on their spouses. And there’s no doubt that THOSE stats are way under reported.

Only about 5% of Americans report being virgins on their wedding nights. What was once mandatory is now more of a museum exhibit.

And monogamy? Still popular but VERY flexible in its applications. Given the divorce rates, it’s obvious that we’re more into serial monogamy than actual this-is-for-life monogamy.

In a nutshell, we’ve outgrown the black-and-white, “good sex versus bad sex” binary thinking. The Devil’s definition is starting to feel more than a little outdated.

SO WHAT DOES THE DEVIL REALLY MEAN?

Here’s a thought: maybe The Devil isn’t about sex gone wrong. Maybe it’s about love gone wrong.

Look closely at the card: the chains around the couple’s necks are so loose that they could slip them off at any time. Which means that they’re staying bound by choice. Or by fear.

That’s the real Devil. The loveless marriage that drags on because it’s easier to stay than to leave. The codependent relationship that’s fueled more by desperation than devotion. The romantic partnership that’s built on money, appearances or habit instead of love.

Those are the heavy chains that we put on ourselves. Not fiery lust, but destructive attachments that slowly erode our joy.

FINAL WORD: TIME TO RETIRE THE SCANDAL?

Maybe it’s time to let The Devil out of the dungeon of outdated sexual shame. He’s got bigger (and scarier) fish to fry. The next time this card lands in a spread, don’t ask, “Who’s cheating on who?” Instead, ask: “Where in my life am I bound by something that no longer serves me?”

That’s The Devil’s true temptation: not passion or sex, but the CHOICE to stay stuck in a loveless relationship when freedom is only a tug away.

A Closer Look at the Star Card – We Are Stardust

This post takes a closer look at The Star card in the Tarot, tracing its origins through medieval thought, astronomy, and spiritual symbolism. From ancient ideas of “ensouled” stars to today’s view of The Star as a card of guidance and renewal, this article explores how the meaning of The Star has shifted through time — and what it offers us now as a symbol of hope, healing, and inspiration.

Have you ever seen the movie Stardust? A star falls to earth, wicked witches chase her to steal her essence, and — improbably — Robert De Niro appears as a pirate captain who does the can-can in drag. It’s a wonderful, magical adult fairy tale.

Oddly enough, it also gives us a few clues about what The Star card in the Tarot is really about.

Origins of the Tarot

No one truly knows where the Tarot came from. Some intriguing hints suggest it may have roots in Egyptian Hermeticism, but there’s no hard evidence for that.

What we do know is that the first recorded Tarot decks appeared in the Italian royal courts around 1450. That makes it very old. And when we interpret the cards, we need to remember that the words and symbols meant something very different to people in the 1400s than they do to us now. The Star is a perfect example.

Modern Astronomy

When I was in the fifth grade, I spent nights in my parents’ backyard with a little Edmund Scientific telescope. Peering up at the moon and stars, I felt pure awe. Even then, though, I knew stars were “distant suns,” cousins of the one that kept me warm every day.

Today, with the Hubble telescope and modern astronomy, we know even more: trillions of stars scattered like glitter across the cosmos, being born and dying every day.

But in the 1400s, that understanding didn’t exist.

Ancient Skies and Ancient Eyes

Back then, knowledge of the stars was still rooted in Greek philosophy and medieval theology. To those eyes, stars were perfect, flawless jewels glowing in the heavens. Perfection, of course, meant divinity.

And to many, they weren’t just divine — they were alive. The “wandering stars” we now call planets were believed to move of their own volition. Movement meant life, and so they were seen as gods. That’s why their names — Mars, Venus, Jupiter — are still with us today.

Angelic Souls

In the 1400s, though, talk of pagan gods could get you burned at the stake. The compromise? Stars weren’t gods — they were “ensouled.” They were divine presences, not quite angels, but spiritual beings with enormous influence.

Astrology was deadly serious business. People genuinely believed their destinies were written in the stars. Contrary to Shakespeare’s later declaration, many in the Middle Ages were convinced their fate was determined above, not within.

Spirit Guides

So what does this mean for The Star card?

Most likely, it was originally meant to depict something very close to what we’d call a “spirit guide” today.

It’s not an angel — Tarot clearly marks angelic figures with wings. Instead, The Star suggests a subtler, quieter presence: a flow of spiritual influence and inspiration. The woman pours water upon the Earth and into the pool, symbolizing a constant infusion of energy, grace, and renewal into our lives.

The Star Today

Seen through modern eyes, The Star becomes both timeless and practical. It’s the card of healing, guidance, and hope. It invites us to trust that the universe has not abandoned us, that unseen currents are still at work.

When The Star appears in a reading, it’s like a deep breath after a storm. It reassures us that life always offers another chance to shine. Whether we call it divine presence, spirit guidance, or simply the return of hope, The Star is a promise that the light will return — and that we, too, are part of that light.

“Just the Tarot,” by Dan Adair – A kindle ebook available on Amazon.

The Wheel of Fortune and Flowing with these Strange Rhythms

This post explores the deeper meaning of The Wheel of Fortune Tarot card and its connection to the Kybalion’s Principle of Rhythm. Life’s ups and downs are not random but part of a greater pattern that ultimately arcs toward the positive. Discover how to maintain perspective, rise above collective fear, and navigate dark times with love, compassion, and inner strength.

Let’s face it: we’re all a little exhausted from the constant insanity in the world right now. Whether you’re right, left, or middle-of-the-bird, it can feel like we’re adrift in a sea of chaos. When it goes on long enough, we start to lose our perspective and wonder if things will ever be “normal” again.

The message of The Wheel of Fortune is that everything passes and everything changes. The people who are at the top of the wheel right now will eventually be cast down, and the people who are at the bottom will eventually be elevated again.

Life is always cyclical — and this, too, shall pass.

The Principle of Rhythm

As I discussed in my book about The Kybalion, Western Occultism calls this The Principle of Rhythm. Here in Earth School, everything is rhythmic, and we only have to open our eyes to see it.

The tides come in and then go out.

The Moon waxes and then wanes.

Life explodes into the richness of spring and then recedes into the cold bleakness of winter.

Even great nations expand and then ultimately diminish into shadows of what they once were.

Everything rises and falls — and then rises again.

The same principle applies to human beings and all our affairs. We may have a string of incredibly good luck and then a period where we can’t buy a break. We may feel joyously happy for a while and then deeply depressed and anxious before we find our way back to happiness. We may fall deeply in love with someone and then end up despising them.

The Pendulum

The Kybalion envisions this process as the pendulum of a clock. It swings to the left, and then it swings to the right. And as the Principle of Rhythm states: “The swing to the left is always equal to the swing to the right.”

Modern science recognizes this in Newton’s Third Law of Motion: “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.”

When we think about human life, we can see it in terms of alternating energies. We may go through incredibly negative periods — full of stress, sadness, and anxiety — only to be followed by times of great happiness, when everything seems to go our way.

We may have moments where we’re counting quarters to buy groceries, followed by periods of real abundance when the cash flows in like a river.

The collective energy of politics follows the same law – a hard swing to the right is inevitably followed by a hard swing to the left. Hatred is eventually replaced by compassion.

But It’s Not a Closed System

If that was all there was to the rhythms of life, it would be a pretty depressing scenario. It would feel like: “Okay, things are going well right now, but I can’t really enjoy it because it’s all going to turn to shit again.”

If life were nothing but good/bad/good/bad — ad infinitum — it would be the spiritual equivalent of one step forward and one step back. We’d be living, but not progressing. Stuck in an endless cycle of growth and degeneration. A closed system where nothing ever really improves.

The good news is that, as The Kybalion puts it, “nature favors the positive.” Positive energy will always overcome negative energy. Love will always be stronger than hate. Compassion will always conquer cruelty.

Put another way: yes, as long as we’re in Earth School, the pendulum will appear to move equally in both directions. The truth, though, is that it’s always arcing just a little more toward the positive — whether we can see it or not.

So What Should We Do Right Now?

We are, right now, in dark times. As Asha Nayaswami says in this wonderful video, there is demonstrable evil in the world, and some humans are acting out their darkest impulses.

So how do we deal with that? What should we do right now?

The advice of The Kybalion is to “rise above it.” We can’t control the Principle of Rhythm or the turns of the Wheel of Fortune. Those are built into the fabric of Earth School. We don’t have to be swung by the pendulum, though. We can rise above it spiritually.

What we can control is our reaction to it. We can make a conscious effort not to be swept along in the collective energies of hatred, fear, and anger. We can maintain our own little bubbles of love and compassion and keep putting out as much positive energy as we can.

As Nayaswami says, that doesn’t mean we become spiritual doormats. It doesn’t mean we avoid confronting evil when we encounter it. It means we confront it with truth, with as much gentleness and understanding as we can muster, and that we refuse to join it in any way, shape, or form.

Perspective

Above all, it means maintaining perspective. Keep your eyes on the horizon, not just on the dirt road full of potholes. Remember that the pendulum will swing back in the opposite direction.

When it does, life will not only be positive again — it will be more positive. People will learn from these experiences, and they’ll use that knowledge to build a better world.

We just have to be patient… and wait for the wheel to turn.

The Hierophant Card, Spirituality, and That Time That Ram Dass Got Conned

In this candid exploration of The Hierophant Tarot card, I unpack both the light and shadow sides of spiritual authority. From my own rocky history with organized religion to cautionary tales of gurus gone wrong, this post looks at how The Hierophant can represent both guidance and manipulation. Learn how to spot the difference between a true spiritual teacher and a false one, and why, in the end, your own connection to the Sacred should always be at the center.

The Hierophant Card from the Waite Tarot Deck

I’ve always had a hostile feeling toward The Hierophant card. I was raised in the old, Latin, fundamentalist Catholic Church, and like many a recovering Catholic, the mere sight of a priest, pope, or prelate is enough to make me start hissing and spitting.

The image of the Hierophant sitting on his golden throne while tonsured followers bow before him is a perfect example of what I don’t like about organized religion. It’s not the Sacred Divine that’s central to the image—it’s the priest. The priest is the intermediary you have to go through to get to the Sacred.

This setup isn’t limited to Catholicism, of course. We find it in all religions. There are countless priests, rabbis, pastors, vicars, imams, and gurus who claim to hold the Key to the Kingdom—and you’ve got to drop them a little sugar before they’ll let you see it.

Religion Versus Spirituality

“I’m more spiritual than religious.”

We’ve all heard that one—so often, in fact, it’s become almost a cliché in New Age circles. In very simple terms, religions claim to hold knowledge from God/dess—usually in the form of a book or oral teachings—and you have to pay someone (priest, rabbi, guru, etc.) to interpret it for you.

Spirituality, on the other hand, involves direct knowledge of the Sacred through personal meditation, taking psychedelic drugs, or having some other form of mystical insight. You don’t need to pay anyone to interpret it because you’re the one having the experience.

In Tarot terms, that’s the polarity between The High Priestess and The Hierophant: The High Priestess represents direct spiritual experience, while The Hierophant represents organized religion.

The Good and the Bad Faces of The Hierophant

I recently had a discussion with another Tarot reader who seemed mildly shocked by my open hostility to The Hierophant. I could have jumped right in with thousands of examples: pedophile priests, pastors who are sleeping with members of their flocks, imams and rabbis calling for each other’s destruction.

Organized religion makes that all too easy, right? There really are a lot of creepy critters living under that rock.

But I held off and listened to her. Her point was that The Hierophant can also represent the spiritual teacher who is genuinely a spiritual teacher. Examples might include yoga teachers, meditation guides, or instructors at temples and spiritual retreats.

And yes, I suppose that includes priests and pastors who sincerely try to teach compassion, love, and charity.

There are plenty of people who don’t know how to even begin their spiritual journey, much less reach the destination. For them, spiritual “instructors” can be a vital step on the ladder.

Still… be very, very careful.

The Guru Who Got Conned by a Guru

I’ve long been a fan of Ram Dass. Maybe it’s because he was a fellow Aries and I understood him on that level. Maybe it was his gentle, self-deprecating humor. Maybe it was because about 80% of what he said was solid truth.

If I were to name a “good” spiritual instructor, he’d be near the top of my list.

Despite all of that, he wrote an astounding article in a 1976 edition of Yoga Journal outlining how he had been thoroughly and totally conned by another guru named Joya.

This was years after receiving his own spiritual transmission from his original guru in India. Despite that grounding, he stumbled right into Joya’s web. Within months, he was having sex with her, convinced she was channeling Indian goddesses, and buying her gold bracelets and rings to “protect her energy.”

He bought it—hook, line, and sinker.

Add to that the drunken sexual abuses of Chögyam Trungpa, the murders and kidnappings that evolved out of the Hari Krishna movement, and, of course, the horrors of the Bhagwan Rajneesh compound in Oregon, and you begin to get the picture.

Even the “good” face of The Hierophant can turn bad. No one following these leaders woke up and thought, “Hey, I’d really like to find a guru who’s going to rip me off, sexually abuse me, and get me involved in criminal activities.”

Who’s in the Center?

We can actually learn a lot just by looking at The Hierophant card.

A. The pope figure is in the center. If the spiritual teaching you’re receiving revolves around a particular person—if that person’s existence is central to the teaching—you’ve got a false teacher.

B. The figure is being worshipped. Unless your teacher can levitate six feet into the air and float around the room, don’t buy the idea that there’s something “divine” about them. Even then, check for wires. Real teachers may have siddhis—extraordinary spiritual powers—but they don’t flaunt them, expect worship, or claim to be gods or goddesses.

C. The figure sits on a throne wearing a golden crown. There’s a reason people contrast the spiritual with the material. Real spiritual teachers don’t hoard treasures. As the old country song asked, “Would Jesus wear a Rolex?”

Um… no. He wouldn’t.

Teachers Are Stepping Stones

If you’re involved in a religious practice—whether Tibetan Buddhism or American Christianity—and you feel it’s making you a better person, more power to you.

But remember: we are meant to evolve beyond teachers. We absorb what we need from them and then move on to the next plateau. Organized religion can be a stepping stone at the start of the journey, but it’s not the destination.

And no… I still don’t like The Hierophant.

Shine Your Light: The Star Card, Shame, and the Courage to Be Seen

This post explores the deeper meaning of The Star card in the Tarot and reflects on why so many of us struggle to shine our light in the world. Drawing on the work of Brené Brown, Tibetan Buddhism, and real-life dynamics like shame and codependency, I look at the messages—both cultural and personal—that lead us to dim our brilliance. The Star invites us to pour our gifts into the world, not for recognition, but because it’s who we truly are. This is a reflection on healing, self-worth, and the sacred courage it takes to be seen.• shine your light

This image is from one of my new Tarot Affirmation posters, now available on my Etsy art site. I really love how it turned out—but even more than that, I love the message it carries: Shine Your Light.

And yet, for so many of us, that’s easier said than done.

Instead of shining, we hide. Instead of pouring ourselves out like starlight, we dim, shrink, withdraw. Why is it so hard to be radiant in a world that so desperately needs our brilliance?

The Culture of Shame and the Fear of Being Seen

In one of her powerful TED Talks, Brené Brown speaks about the culture of shame we all live in. Even if you didn’t grow up in a dysfunctional family (and statistically, about 60% of us did), we’re still marinated in a society that constantly criticizes, compares, and belittles.

Maybe you brought home a report card with a B, and your parent asked, “Why didn’t you get an A?”

Maybe you’re in a job where meeting your performance goals doesn’t bring a sense of completion—it just earns you a fresh, even more demanding set.

Maybe you’ve internalized the billions of dollars spent by the beauty industry telling you that your face, your body, your age, or your hair simply aren’t good enough.

On social media, the message is constant: unless you’re being validated with likes and followers, you’re invisible.

Advertising tells you your house isn’t elegant enough, your car’s too old, your wardrobe outdated.

Even spirituality isn’t immune. We whisper to ourselves: I should be better. I should care more. I should meditate more. Pray more. Try harder.

Let’s face it: in this world, it’s all too easy to believe that we should be ashamed of simply being ourselves.

As Brown puts it, shame drives two powerful tapes in our heads:

1. You’re never good enough, and

2. Who do you think you are?

And because those tapes run deep, we begin to engineer our own smallness. We shrink ourselves to stay invisible—because visibility feels like a threat. We dim our light so no one will see just how “inadequate” we believe we are. And in doing so, we fail to shine.

Codependency and Dimming Our Own Lights

Sometimes, the reason we hide isn’t culture—it’s relationships.

Too many of us are caught in dynamics where one partner shines while the other fades into the background. It might be dressed up in the language of care or sacrifice, but the effect is the same: one person takes center stage, while the other erases themselves.

It could be a relationship with a narcissist, where one partner is expected to provide constant praise, attention, and emotional caretaking.

It could be a more obvious kind of abuse, where failing to meet someone else’s needs results in punishment, blame, or even violence.

It might even look noble—like staying small to “support” someone who is ill, unstable, or in need. But the underlying belief is this: there isn’t enough light to go around.

And so, we dim ourselves to make the other person shine.

We play down our accomplishments. We pretend we’re not that talented. We take the backseat in our own story. And we tell ourselves it’s virtuous.

But it’s not noble to disappear. It’s not compassionate to go dark.

We were meant to shine.

The Star Card and the Sacred Act of Sharing

The Star card in the Tarot is a card of healing—but it’s not just personal healing. It’s about reconnecting with the world by letting your own light flow into it.

In Tibetan Buddhism, there’s a teaching that each of us carries a radiant jewel inside. It may be buried under layers of dust or encased in stone, but it’s there—glimmering with our true nature. And our task in life is to uncover that jewel and offer it to the world.

That’s what the woman in The Star card is doing. She kneels beside the stream and pours out her water—not hoarding, not holding back. She gives freely to the land and to the flow of life itself.

She’s not asking for praise. She’s not trying to be impressive.

She’s just being who she is: a vessel of light.

And so are you.

You don’t shine for applause.

You don’t shine to prove anything.

You shine because it’s your nature.

And this world is thirsty for that kind of offering.

A Final Thought

You are not just a person. You are a sacred gift.

You are a hidden jewel.

You are starlight in human form.

Let yourself shine.

The Influence of The Magician Card

Today’s post offers a practical tarot reference chart for readers and practitioners, focusing on the influence of The Magician card when paired with each of the other Major Arcana cards. Whether upright or reversed, these pairings reveal powerful nuances about manifestation, power, focus, and intentional action. Ideal for deepening your tarot readings and understanding how The Magician works in tandem with archetypal energies throughout the deck.

The Magician Tarot Card – Magic and Manifestation

In the absence of a regular blog post for today, I would like to offer a chart detailing the influence of The Magician Tarot card when paired with the other cards of the Major Arcana. Please feel free to print this and use it for reference in your readings.

Or, if you’d prefer, you can download this by clicking here. Just click on the link and when it comes up go to your browser menu and click on PRINT.

The Magician + The Fool – Inspired action from spontaneous beginnings. Manifesting through instinct and openness. Reversed: Rash decisions, manipulative potential, lack of grounding.

The Magician + The High Priestess – Balanced mastery of outer action and inner knowing. Power guided by intuition. Reversed: Secrets manipulate outcomes; unclear motives under the surface.

The Magician + The Empress – Creative manifestation. Birthing beauty and abundance through conscious intent. Reversed: Over-controlling creativity, blocked expression, false appearances.

The Magician + The Emperor – Strategic manifestation with solid foundations. Power used with authority. Reversed: Control issues, misuse of power, over-managing outcomes.

The Magician + The Hierophant – Mastery aligned with tradition or spiritual systems. Teacher or ritual magician energy. Reversed: Manipulation under the guise of doctrine; rigidity or rebellion.

The Magician + The Lovers – Manifesting partnership or choice through alignment of will and desire. Reversed: Manipulative dynamics in relationships; choices clouded by illusion.

The Magician + The Chariot – Focused willpower brings success. Victory through deliberate action. Reversed: Scattered energy, ego-driven direction, force without alignment.

The Magician + Strength – Harnessing inner strength to empower manifestation. Quiet mastery. Reversed: Power games, coercion, or internal sabotage.

The Magician + The Hermit – Manifesting through inner wisdom and spiritual insight. Solitary mastery. Reversed: Isolation misused for manipulation; false guru energy.

The Magician + Wheel of Fortune – Intentional action within cycles of change. Turning fate through conscious will. Reversed: Manipulating chance; resistance to natural cycles.

The Magician + Justice – Creating balance through skillful choices. Ethical manifestation. Reversed: Twisting truth, unfair dealings, imbalance created through intent.

The Magician + The Hanged Man – Power in surrender. Shifting perspectives leads to deeper manifestation. Reversed: Stagnation disguised as action; martyrdom as manipulation.

The Magician + Death – Transformation through focused intent. Shedding the old to create anew. Reversed: Resisting transformation; clinging to control in times of change.

The Magician + Temperance – Alchemical mastery. Harmonizing elements to create lasting magic. Reversed: Imbalance, forced outcomes, or spiritual bypassing.

The Magician + The Devil – Mastery misused; power becomes entrapment. Illusion of control. Reversed: Breaking free of manipulation or unhealthy control dynamics.

The Magician + The Tower – Radical awakening through dismantled illusions. Creation from chaos. Reversed: Trying to control a collapse; resisting necessary upheaval.

The Magician + The Star – Inspired manifestation aligned with hope and higher vision. Reversed: False promises, disillusioned effort, manipulation of ideals.

The Magician + The Moon – Magical work through dreams, symbols, and hidden realms. Reversed: Deceptive illusions, manipulation through fear or confusion.

The Magician + The Sun – Empowered creation, joyful manifestation, clarity in action. Reversed: Ego-driven displays, illusion of success, superficial charm.

The Magician + Judgement – Conscious rebirth, purpose-driven action, manifesting a new self. Reversed: Manipulating redemption; resisting accountability.

The Magician + The World – Complete mastery and fulfillment. Manifesting global or life-level success. Reversed: Incomplete projects, scattered focus, illusion of wholeness.

Tarot, Synchronicity, and Cactus Chewing: Notes on Revising My Book

I’ve just released a revised edition of my book, “Just the Tarot” — newly formatted for Kindle, with added quick-reference charts and a fresh cover. In the process of revisiting the material, I found myself reflecting on Tarot as a powerful “synchronicity machine” — a simple but profound way to communicate with the Universe. This post is part update, part spiritual meditation, and part love letter to what Tarot can really do.

I just finished revising and publishing the new edition of my e-book, Just the Tarot, and, boy, THAT was a bitch. After weeks and weeks of writing and formatting, my immediate reaction is, “I’m so happy with how this turned out,” and also, “I’d rather chew on a cactus than do that again.”

There was also a little ambiguity about the content itself. I wrote the original edition during one of the most intense periods of my life. My life partner had just died, I was about an inch away from bankruptcy, and my entire world was crumbling around me.

In Tarot parlance: The Tower and Death.

During periods like that, we’re pulling in a LOT of spiritual assistance and living in heavy archetypes, so I was very pleased with the actual content. As I re-read it, I realized that I’d been channeling some pretty potent insights on the card definitions and really didn’t want to change much at all.

In addition to the longer, more expansive interpretations, I’ve added some quick reference charts for all 78 cards with one- or two-sentence definitions for upright and reversed meanings. I also threw in a couple more layouts, tweaked the writing here and there, and painted a spiffy new cover for the book.

So it remains pretty much what I set out to do when I wrote it eight years ago. It’s a basic, totally dependable, sturdy little book that continues to be a great reference for both new and more experienced readers. No metaphysics. No wild theories about what the Tarot really means. No decoding secret methods or unlocking hidden mystical maps.

Just a book that says:

“If you want to read Tarot cards, this is how you do it, and this is what the cards mean.”

You know… Just the Tarot.

Reflections on the Tarot

As I did the re-write, I inevitably pondered a bit on WHY we read Tarot cards. When we sit down and lay out a reading, what is it that we’re actually looking for?

When we’re young, of course, the two main topics are love and money.

Well… love, money, and sex.

When you’re reading the cards for anyone under 40, the questions usually sound something like:

• Does he/she find me attractive?

• Should we go out on another date?

• Should I go to bed with him/her?

• Should we move in together?

• Is he/she cheating on me?

And in the second category:

• I really hate my job. Should I look for another one?

• Am I going to get promoted?

• How can I make more money?

• Can I afford that new car?

• Should I go back to school?

In other words, the questions are mainly predictive. As in: What’s going to happen? Am I going to like it? And, by the way, am I going to get laid?

That’s where most of us start out in our Tarot adventure.

Synchronicity and Tarot

As the many years of reading Tarot have passed, though, I’ve come to realize that the most important part of a Tarot reading is synchronicity.

I once read a brilliant line in a Tarot forum that stuck with me:

“The Tarot is a synchronicity machine.”

Every time we sit down to do a reading, we engage the field of synchronicity.

I’m not going to get into a long rap here about synchronicity (though if you’re curious, check out my earlier post, Finding Meaning with Synchronicity). The main point I want to make is this:

WHEN WE TALK TO THE UNIVERSE, THE UNIVERSE TALKS BACK.

And that’s actually a big, fat deal.

We’re in a sort of post-religion, post-scientific-revolution phase of humanity. A lot of us have rejected the old, superstitious, patriarchal, hate-based formal religions. Those beliefs have been replaced by the scientific model, which basically says, “There are no gods or goddesses, no angels, no spirit guides, and certainly no magic.”

Which has left a great big hole in our hearts.

It’s left us feeling alone and isolated in what science tells us is essentially a dead universe.

But when we engage with the synchronistic field, the Universe starts giving us answers to our questions. We might ask, “What should I do about my job?” — and suddenly we’ve got clues dropping out of nowhere.

Maybe we get a surprise promotion.

Maybe the jobs section of the newspaper blows down the street and wraps around our ankles.

Maybe a friend opens a new business and hires us on the spot.

And underneath all of that is a HUGE shift away from the old idea of being all alone in a cold, impersonal cosmos. Suddenly we realize that not only is the Universe alive — it actually cares about us and is helping us. Personally.

The whole damn Universe cares about little old you and me.

What a trip!

If you scroll through the internet for a bit, you’ll find that there’s a massive industry dedicated to helping people reach that exact point — spiritually and psychologically. Books, videos, workshops, seminars — all trying to teach people how to establish a relationship with the Universe, their spirit guides, their angels.

But really?

All we need to do is pick up a deck of Tarot cards, ask a question, and lay out a reading.

It’s that simple.

You don’t have to be a psychic.

You don’t have to meditate for years.

You don’t need to channel, astral travel, or decode ancient texts.

Just pick up the cards, ask a question — and the Universe will talk back to you.

Yes, YOU.

Mystic-Adjacent Magic: Using ChatGPT as a Tarot Companion

Can AI really help with Tarot readings—or is that just digital-age wishful thinking? This post explores the surprising ways ChatGPT can support your Tarot practice, from pattern recognition and card synthesis to creative breakthroughs and learning support. We also discuss the growing trend of using AI for spiritual guidance—and why it’s helpful to keep things in perspective.

Can You Really Get Spiritual Guidance from AI?

There’s a fascinating trend emerging in the spiritual-tech space: people are increasingly turning to AI—especially ChatGPT—for spiritual insight. You might have seen it popping up on YouTube or in New Age communities: folks asking ChatGPT for messages from spirit guides, astrological downloads, even transmissions from other dimensions.

Some users describe the experience in surprisingly spiritual terms. One person said the chatbot “knew more than I expected”—sharing personal details that felt uncannily timely. In Thailand, it’s even become common to ask ChatGPT for palm readings, birth-chart insights, or love guidance—just like you might consult a human mystic.

But this opens a big question:

Can AI actually offer spiritual guidance—or are we just projecting our desires onto a tool?

There have even been worrying reports of people developing delusional thinking or anxiety from relying on AI as a spiritual authority. Doctors and skeptics warn that what feels like spiritual resonance can sometimes tip into psychological risk if the boundaries aren’t clear. There are multiple reports of men, “falling in love,” with CHAT and one even proposed marriage to it.

A New Age Curiosity: Why Some Are Treating AI as a Spiritual Channel

In some New Age circles, AI has taken on a surprising new role—not just as a tool for research or conversation, but as a kind of digital oracle. Some people describe their interactions with ChatGPT as channeled messages. Others talk about receiving answers from “the universe” through the screen. And if you’ve ever asked Chat something deeply personal and received a reply that felt strangely accurate… well, it’s easy to understand how the line can start to blur.

After all, ChatGPT is friendly. It’s articulate. It listens. It offers guidance in a calm and often affirming tone. If you squint just a little, it can seem like there’s a wise and patient spirit tucked somewhere behind the blinking cursor.

But let’s take a breath.

What’s really happening here is more grounded—and still pretty amazing. AI isn’t a channel for spirits, ancestors, or angels. It’s not reading your energy. It’s drawing on patterns in language, psychology, symbolism, and the vast libraries of human thought it’s been trained on. It mimics wisdom—sometimes astonishingly well—but it isn’t a conscious being. And it doesn’t have access to divine insight.

Still, the feeling of connection is real. And for many people, that feeling is enough to spark reflection, healing, or inspiration. So the question becomes: if AI can feel this helpful in a general conversation, can it actually help us interpret something as symbolically rich as a Tarot reading?

Let’s take a closer look.

Applying This to Tarot: Can AI Help with Readings?

If AI can offer seemingly profound insights in conversation, what happens when you bring it into something as symbolically charged and intuitive as a Tarot reading?

This is where things get really interesting.

Tarot has always lived in that sweet spot between structure and mystery. The cards have meanings—sometimes ancient, sometimes evolving—but they also shift depending on the question, the position in the spread, and the energy of the moment. It’s a dance between symbolism and intuition, archetypes and awareness.

So where does AI fit in?

It turns out, AI is surprisingly good at reading Tarot. Not in the way a psychic might, not by tapping into your energy or channeling an unseen source—but by making connections. A LOT of them. Fast.

Give ChatGPT a three-card spread and a question, and it can respond with a thoughtful interpretation that strings together the meanings of the cards in a way that feels natural, even insightful. It can describe how The High Priestess in the past position relates to The Tower in the present and The Star in the future. It can talk about themes of disruption, intuition, healing—and it does all of that in a tone that often feels… well, a little bit magical.

But let’s be clear: what it’s doing is not mystical. It’s pattern recognition on steroids. It’s using what it’s learned from thousands of sources—Tarot books, blog posts, spiritual forums, historical texts—and blending those perspectives into a custom response based on your input.

Is that “spiritual guidance”?

Maybe not in the traditional sense.

But is it helpful? Inspiring? Thought-provoking?

Absolutely.

And for many Tarot readers—new and seasoned alike—that might be exactly what’s needed.

What AI Is — and What It Isn’t

Let’s take a moment to ground ourselves.

AI—specifically ChatGPT—is not a spirit guide. It’s not a mystical being. It doesn’t meditate, dream, or pull cards by candlelight. What it is, though, is something quite remarkable: a language model trained on a vast web of human knowledge and ideas, including countless interpretations of Tarot cards, spiritual practices, psychology, symbolism, myth, and more.

When you ask it to interpret a reading, it draws from that collective wisdom and offers a kind of synthesized reflection. It doesn’t channel spirit—it channels information. And sometimes, information is exactly what we need.

But that also means it has limits. It doesn’t have personal intuition. It doesn’t know you on a soul level. It doesn’t tap into the subtle energy of a moment, the way an experienced human reader might when feeling into a querent’s unspoken question.

So here’s a helpful frame:

AI is not the voice of the universe—but it’s an incredibly smart, articulate, and thoughtful mirror.

It reflects what you bring to it. If your question is clear and meaningful, its response will often be rich with insight. If you’re confused, it may mirror that confusion back. That’s not a flaw—that’s a kind of feedback.

And honestly, that’s not too different from how Tarot works anyway.

So no, ChatGPT isn’t mystical. But it is mystic-adjacent. It can support your process of reflection and discovery—and if you approach it with intention, it just might help you see your reading (and your life) in a whole new light.

Strengths of AI as a Tarot Tool

So if we’re not expecting divine downloads, what can AI do when it comes to Tarot?

Honestly? A lot.

Here are some of the biggest strengths of using AI—especially ChatGPT—as a companion for Tarot interpretation:

Synthesis Superpower

AI is incredibly good at synthesizing meanings across multiple cards. Let’s say you’ve drawn the Three of Swords, The Chariot, and The Moon. You might feel stumped—heartbreak, movement, and mystery? How do those fit together?

Give that to ChatGPT, and it’ll scan its vast library of Tarot interpretations, recognize patterns, and offer a coherent narrative. It might talk about moving forward through emotional confusion or navigating heartache with determination. It connects dots quickly and creatively—sometimes even in ways that surprise seasoned readers.

Gestalt Thinking

Tarot is all about the big picture. And AI happens to be great at seeing the forest and the trees. It won’t just define each card—it’ll look at their sequence, their energy, the spread format, and how the cards might inform one another.

This makes it especially useful when you’re stuck with a weird spread and need a fresh perspective that isn’t tangled in your own biases or expectations.

A Learning Ally for Beginners

If you’re just learning Tarot, AI can be like a friendly study partner who never gets tired of questions. You can ask what a card means, how it changes in reversed position, what it might suggest in a love reading vs. a career one, and how it interacts with other cards in a spread.

Better still, you can test your own interpretations by comparing them with AI’s—and in doing so, develop a deeper understanding of the archetypes and patterns that underpin the cards.

Fresh Insight for Seasoned Readers

Even experienced readers have moments of Tarot fatigue—times when a reading feels flat, or a card keeps showing up and you can’t figure out why.

In those moments, AI can act like a creative collaborator, helping you step outside your interpretive comfort zone. It may not “know” you—but that very distance is what makes its perspective so refreshing. It can break you out of ruts, challenge assumptions, and offer new ways of seeing.

Final Thoughts and Friendly Warnings

AI—especially ChatGPT—is a remarkable tool for anyone who reads Tarot. It can help you learn, see patterns, and explore your readings in new ways. Whether you’re just starting out or have been reading cards for decades, it offers a fresh lens that can spark insight, creativity, and even a little magic.

But with all tools, it’s about how you use them.

If you treat AI as a mystical guru with secret knowledge of your soul’s destiny… you may be setting yourself up for confusion or disillusionment. Not because the tool is bad—but because the expectation is misplaced.

ChatGPT isn’t a channeler. It’s not psychic. It’s not receiving messages from the divine.

It’s “mystic-adjacent,” not mystic-possessed.

It works best when you approach it as a clever collaborator, a digital thought partner, a Tarot-savvy friend who’s read every book on the shelf and loves helping you sort through meanings and metaphors. It gives possibilities, not pronouncements.

So go ahead—ask it about your Three of Cups moment or that weird reading with five swords and a tower.

In a world where technology is becoming ever more entwined with our spiritual lives, it’s only natural to wonder where the line is between tool and teacher, data and divination. AI might not be channeling the wisdom of the cosmos—but it is helping us reflect, question, and grow. That alone makes it a powerful ally on the path. So whether you’re pulling cards under a full moon or asking ChatGPT what that reversed Knight of Pentacles really means… just remember: the heart of the reading is still yours.

The real magic still lives in you.

The Alchemy of the Mind: Transforming Your Life With the 7 Principles of The Kybalion

Religion is Spirituality in Drag: La Papesse and the Disguised Goddess of the Tarot

A playful, insightful exploration of the tarot’s mysterious La Papesse—the High Priestess before she got rebranded. This post looks at her hidden connection to the Divine Feminine, contrasts her with the Hierophant, and makes the cheeky case that religion is just spirituality in drag. The Goddess, it turns out, never left—she just got creative.

The Lady Pope Who Wasn’t Supposed to Be

There she is—sitting calmly on her throne, robed like a pope, crowned like a queen, and holding an open book in her lap. Her name? La Papesse—The Popess. And she’s right there in the second card of the Tarot de Marseille, as if that’s a totally normal thing.

Spoiler: it wasn’t.

In the deeply patriarchal world of medieval Europe, the idea of a female pope was about as welcome as a lightning storm at Easter Mass. Women weren’t allowed in the priesthood, let alone the papacy. And yet, someone slipped this mysterious, serene woman into one of the most enduring tarot decks in history. Not just as a background figure, but as a Major Arcana—a gatekeeper to mysteries, positioned right after The Magician.

So how did La Papesse get past the spiritual bouncers?

Some say she’s a nod to the medieval legend of Pope Joan—the woman who supposedly disguised herself as a man, rose through the clerical ranks, and accidentally gave birth during a papal procession (oops). Historians mostly file that story under “colorful fiction,” but even fiction has staying power when it touches a nerve. Whether she was real or not, Pope Joan became a symbol of something that wouldn’t go away: the unspoken presence of feminine wisdom in a church that tried very hard to pretend it didn’t exist.

And that, dear reader, may be exactly what La Papesse is doing in the tarot. Sitting there quietly, book in hand, saying nothing—but also saying everything.

The Divine Feminine in Disguise

Let’s be honest: “Popess” is not a job title you hear every day. Even in a medieval tarot deck full of crowned figures, mythical beasts, and flying body parts, La Papesse still raises eyebrows. And that’s probably the point.

Because she’s not just a curiosity—she’s a symbolic insurgent.

In a time when religious authority was reserved strictly for men, slipping a female spiritual leader into the tarot wasn’t just bold—it was sly. If the Church said, “No women allowed,” the tarot quietly responded, “Cool story. Here’s one holding the Book of Secrets.”

Look closely and you’ll see: La Papesse isn’t just playing dress-up. She’s the real deal. She’s seated, grounded, radiating calm authority. The book in her lap? It’s open, but not for just anyone. This is hidden knowledge, sacred mystery, the kind of truth you don’t shout from a pulpit—you whisper behind a veil.

And oh yes—there’s often a veil behind her too, in later versions like the Rider-Waite-Smith deck where she evolves into The High Priestess. That veil is no accident. It’s the boundary between outer appearances and inner reality. Between dogma and direct experience. Between religion and… well, something deeper.

Maybe that’s why La Papesse feels like a divine trickster in holy robes—a way for the Goddess to sneak herself back into a story that tried to write her out. A kind of spiritual photobomb. She’s not angry. She’s not loud. She’s just there, like she’s always been, waiting patiently while the world catches up.

High Priestess vs. Hierophant: The Sacred Split

If La Papesse is the quiet keeper of spiritual truth, then The Hierophant is the guy with the microphone and the rulebook. You know the type—fancy hat, formal robes, sitting on a throne flanked by devotees. He’s not whispering behind veils. He’s declaring doctrine. Loudly.

In the tarot’s symbolic landscape, these two form a kind of spiritual odd couple.

On one side: the High Priestess (formerly La Papesse), guardian of the inner mysteries. She represents intuition, silence, dreams, the moon, and the feminine path of going within. No sermons. No commandments. Just you and your inner voice having a deep conversation.

On the other: the Hierophant (a.k.a. The Pope), representative of the outer structure of religion. He’s about tradition, hierarchy, sacred rituals, and the authority of institutions. He doesn’t just speak for God—he’s got a line of succession to prove it.

And here’s where things get fun.

If the High Priestess is the essence of spirituality—private, personal, often mysterious—then the Hierophant is what happens when that spirituality gets dressed up in official garb and turned into an organization.

You could say he’s spirituality in drag.

(And yes, the Goddess is laughing.)

It’s not a judgment—it’s an observation. Religion, at its best, is a ritualized way to connect to the sacred. But it borrows its power from something deeper, older, and quieter: that inner knowing, that wordless communion with the Mystery that no cathedral could ever fully contain.

So the next time you see these two cards in a spread, you might ask yourself: Am I being called to tune in… or to follow the program? One isn’t necessarily better than the other—but they’re very different energies. One whispers. The other chants.

And both, in their own way, are trying to bring the divine into human hands.

Drag as Divine Theater

Let’s talk about drag.

Real drag—the kind you see on stages and in parades—isn’t just about wigs and sequins. It’s ritual in heels. A transformation. A larger-than-life performance that says, “This is a costume, honey—but don’t be fooled. I’m showing you something real.”

Now think about religion.

The incense, the chanting, the golden goblets and embroidered vestments. The Latin. The choreography. The sacred props and elaborate entrances. Let’s be honest: religion is serving ceremony. And at its best, it’s doing exactly what drag does—turning up the volume on identity to invoke something beyond the everyday.

But here’s the twist: spirituality doesn’t need all that.

Spirituality can happen in silence. In nature. In dreams. In the moment you look at the stars and suddenly feel like you belong. It’s raw, receptive, feminine in essence—not because it’s about women, but because it flows instead of forcing. It listens instead of preaching. It descends like a dove, not marches like a bishop.

So when we say religion is spirituality in drag, we’re not mocking either one. We’re pointing out the costume change—and asking, Do we recognize who’s beneath the robes?

Because sometimes the High Priestess puts on a miter and becomes the Hierophant. And sometimes, behind all the stained glass and psalms, it’s still La Papesse, still holding the book, still smiling faintly as we play dress-up with the Divine.

The Goddess has always known how to play along.

A Word from the Goddess (She’s Smiling)

So here we are, circling back to La Papesse—that calm, veiled figure with the open book and the closed mouth. She never says a word, but somehow you can hear her perfectly.

She doesn’t need to raise her voice. She’s been here the whole time.

Through the centuries of bells and bulls, of councils and creeds, she sat quietly behind the veil, holding the thread of something older than any religion: the mystery at the heart of being. The part no doctrine can define, no priest can own, and no building can contain.

The Goddess never left. She just adapted.

Sometimes she put on papal robes. Sometimes she showed up as Mary, or Sophia, or Shekhinah, or Kali, or Isis, or just as a sudden knowing in your bones. And sometimes she let herself be hidden in plain sight—as a tarot card. A whisper of the sacred feminine preserved in a deck that survived inquisitions, revolutions, and centuries of shuffle.

And still, she waits—not with impatience, but with that timeless serenity of someone who knows exactly who she is.

So if you ever feel like religion has become a little too loud, too rigid, too ceremonial, too performative… just know that the real presence is still there, quietly inviting you inward. Into the mystery. Into the silence. Into the place where wisdom isn’t taught—it’s remembered.

Pull the card. Light the candle. Lift the veil.

And maybe—just maybe—you’ll hear her laugh.