Let me be honest with you: I thought Tarot would be… prettier.

Not just visually—I mean the whole experience. I thought I’d sit down with my deck, light a candle, turn on some haunting Celtic flute music, and suddenly feel deeply connected to the ancient wisdom of the universe. Instead, I got yelled at by 78 tiny art pieces that all seemed to scream, “Figure it out, nerd!”

My Tarot journey didn’t begin with grace. It began with confusion, a slightly scorched journal (thanks, candle), and a nagging sense that I was failing some invisible quiz I didn’t sign up for.

But here’s the twist: that confusion was exactly what I needed.

That Time I Tried to Learn Tarot and Got Steamrolled Instead

I started out the way many people do: I gathered my tools like a little mystical Pokémon trainer—Rider-Waite deck, crystals, Rachel Pollack’s Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom, Joan Bunning’s The Big Book of Tarot, a fancy notebook, and a vague sense of optimism.

I read the guidebooks. I memorized keywords. I even asked the cards questions like, “What energy should I bring into the day?” and “Do you think he likes me or is he just emotionally unavailable and owning five succulents?”

Still, the cards felt like strangers. Judgmental, dramatic strangers in Renaissance outfits. “Where is this Intuitive Tarot Reading that I thought I would have mastered by now?”

No matter how many definitions I memorized, something was missing. Every reading felt like I was playing Tarot Mad Libs—randomly plugging in phrases, hoping they added up to a revelation.

The Tower Kept Showing Up, So I Ignored It Like a Genius

At the height of this chaos, The Tower card began stalking me.

I’d draw it in daily pulls, in three-card spreads, in accidental late-night shuffle meltdowns. Every time, I tensed up like it was about to leap off the table and destroy my life.

And, to be fair, things were crumbling. A beloved coworker was seriously ill, and our whole team felt the shift—like the floor had been pulled out from under us. But I didn’t want to connect that pain to the card. I wanted The Tower to mean something abstract, something poetic. Not this. So I ignored it. I shrugged it off. We love to second-guess ourselves, don’t we? Intuition waves at us, and we assume it’s meant for someone else, who is a wiser, more put-together version of us.

Until I couldn’t anymore.

Spoiler: The Tower Was Right

Later, when I flipped back through my journal (yes, I kept receipts), I saw the pattern. The Tower hadn’t been some random bad omen. It had been a mirror. It wasn’t predicting destruction; it was narrating transformation—whether I liked it or not.

That’s when I stopped clutching the guidebook like a life raft and started listening to the cards instead. I stopped asking, “What does this mean?” and started asking, “What is this showing me right now?”

That shift changed everything.

Letting Go of the Guidebook: My Journey into Intuitive Tarot Reading

So I ignored it. I shrugged it off. Oh, we love to second-guess ourselves, don’t we? Intuition waves at us, and we assume it’s meant for someone else, some wiser, more put-together version of us standing right behind.

But eventually, the Tower made it impossible to look away.

When I came back to the cards after a break, everything had shifted. No more proving, no more chasing perfection—I was finally ready to stop reading Tarot like a test and start reading it like a conversation. That’s when intuitive Tarot reading stopped being an aspiration and started being my actual practice.

Tips for Beginners (Yes, You. With the Candle and the Panic.)

Tarot isn’t a mystery to solve. It’s a language. Here’s what helped me stop memorizing and start connecting:

• Start with the Major Arcana. They’re the loudest archetypes at the party. Listen to how they show up in your actual life, not just the book definitions.
• Use small spreads. Three-card layouts are your friends. Don’t try to build a Tarot castle with a Celtic Cross and half a clue.
• Keep two journals. One for your readings (the messy, emotional one), and one as a reference guide (the nerdy, organized one). Both are valid. Both are you.
• Ditch the script. Before you look up a card, sit with it. What stands out? What emotion hits first? That’s your intuition waving hello.
• Celebrate tiny wins. Got a card right? Had an “aha” moment? Did you not cry this time? Gold star, my friend.

Tarot Isn’t a Test. It’s a Relationship.

Learning Tarot isn’t about “getting it right.” It’s about showing up. It’s about hearing the message behind the chaos. About trusting that your instincts aren’t just static, they’re a signal. If The Tower taught me anything, it’s that destruction often clears the way for clarity. And when I stopped trying to solveTarot and started having a conversation with it, the real learning began.So, if you’re still white-knuckling your guidebook like a security blanket, relax. I’ve been there.

And in the next post? I’ll drag you through the awkward, magical mess of what it’s like to finally read from the heart (and all the strange decks and existential crises it took to get there).

You’re not doing it wrong. You’re just getting started in your Tarot journey.