The Morning I Met My Fear in the Cards
There are moments in tarot that linger long after the reading is done—moments where the cards do not just speak, but declare. This morning, as I settled into my sacred space, cradling my deck in hands still warm from sleep, I found myself contemplating a question. Or rather, a whisper of a question. It hovered at the edges of my thoughts, shifting and rearranging itself, eluding definition like mist curling over water.
I tried to shape it into something precise. Something worthy. Something askable. But my mind, ever the restless weaver, unravelled it a thousand different ways, until at last, another question entirely eclipsed the first. It was not the question I had intended, nor one I had been willing to ask. It was, however, the one that needed answering.
And so, I took a breath, drew my first card, and there it was—The Eight of Swords.
The Eight of Swords: My Anchor in the Tarot
I have always respected the Eight of Swords. Deeply. Where others see entrapment and helplessness, I see revelation and responsibility. It is the moment before we realise that our captivity is, in part, of our own making. It is the threshold between blame and accountability. It is the card that says: you are not as powerless as you believe.
This morning, it stood at the forefront of my reading, reminding me that my fear was not external—it was the story I had been telling myself. It whispered, You are bound, yes—but there is a way out.
As I journaled, I found myself circling a question: Was Justice (Karma) a result of my Eight of Swords experience—my feeling of being bound? Or was the way out of my bound state about embracing Justice, about making things right in my life and tipping the scales of Justice in my favour?
Justice & Temperance: The Reckoning and the Rebalancing
Justice followed, unsparing and exacting. This is a card that tolerates no illusions, no self-deception. It demands truth—not just the truth we present to the world, but the one we whisper to ourselves in the quietest corners of our mind. If the Eight of Swords was my fear, then Justice was the stark, unblinking gaze that forced me to see it clearly.
In that moment, I realised that the only way out of my self-imposed bindings was to embrace Justice, to make things right, to take ownership of my actions and choices. Justice whispered, Balance is not given; it is created. It was the answer to my journaling—my freedom lay in the act of making things right, of bringing fairness and honesty into my life.
Temperance followed as a balm, but not a passive one. Often misunderstood as a card of gentle moderation, Temperance is the great alchemist of the tarot. It asks for patience, yes, but it also asks for active participation. It is the reminder that balance is not found—it is forged. It is the sacred work of refining, of pouring intention from one vessel into another, transforming chaos into harmony.
The High Priestess & The Fool: The Knowing and the Leap
And then, The High Priestess—mysterious, sovereign, endlessly wise. She is the guardian of what we already know but struggle to articulate. When she appears, it is often a sign that the answer is not something to be sought externally, but something already present within. She is the moment where the noise falls away, and we realise we have known the truth all along.
Finally, The Fool. The spirit in search of the experience. A perfect, poetic conclusion. After the heaviness of the previous cards, The Fool felt like a release—a deep breath after being submerged. It did not say, Now you know, so stay safe. It said, Now you know—so go forth, unafraid.
The Fool reminded me that understanding is not the final step—action is. Knowledge, clarity, and even the perfect balance of Justice are not enough if I remain still. The Fool’s energy is the leap, the willingness to embrace life’s unknowns, to trust in the journey and the experience itself.
A Reading That Becomes a Lesson
This reading was not just an answer to my question—it was a lesson in the tarot itself. It showed me, in real-time, how the cards tell a story, how each one builds upon the last, how they do not simply offer guidance but demand engagement.
The Eight of Swords revealed the fear I had been unwilling to name.
Justice held up the mirror and asked me to be honest with myself and to make things right.
Temperance reminded me that clarity is found in movement, in refinement, in conscious effort.
The High Priestess whispered that the answer was always within reach.
And The Fool, ever brave, ever boundless, reminded me that understanding is not the final step—action is.
This is why I return to the tarot, morning after morning. Not for comfort, though it sometimes provides it. Not for reassurance, though it often offers that too. But for truth. For transformation. For the kind of clarity that does not merely settle upon you like a gentle mist, but rushes in like a tide, reshaping everything in its wake.
So I ask you, tarot lovers—when was the last time the cards truly confronted you? When was the last time a reading left you changed? And more importantly—when they do, do you listen?
Happy shuffling Tarot lovers,
Avalon 💜