I want to be a lightworker, so burden me with glorious purpose.

Level Up, Spiritual Wayfaring

That’s it, I’m done.

I honestly can’t decide on a look. It’s a four-way tie between “cosmic river”, “broody forest”, “half-dreamed fairytale”, and “bookish nerdy”. Which one looks best tends to depend on my current mood, and I’m done trying to brand using my mood swings. Or am I? On one hand, I am trying to have an organized look, with lots of neat blank spaces and with the feel of a pile of neatly stacked notebook, accompanied by pen and paper. My tarot worksheets will be happy. Fables Den is a learning space and a workspace, after all. It’s where you come to make a creative mess, journeying inwards, grasping a voice, or two, scrambling your findings on a vintage looking notebook.

And then my mood flips a switch. I want to go for the visually stunning. Textual presentation lavish in its simplicity with gorgeous photography as a backdrop to fill its missing poetic spaces. Fables Den is a place of archetypal soul-searching as well as creative literary musings. That seems to fit. It’s supposed to inspire. It’s supposed to look pretty. So which one is it!? I honestly don’t know if I can ever settle. I am constantly torn between “just do whatever the heck I want” and “settle on a brand, settle on a look.”

As a tarot reader, a writer, a lightworker, more -er’s–I keep waiting for a moment that feels right to me. A thumbs-up from the eternally-wise Universe, approving me of my efforts, congratulating me on aligning my website with my spirit’s purpose. It is the perfect creative manifestation and statement to the world. Fantastic job, Kim. Absolutely perfect. This is the exact frequency you want to be sending out. This is your vibe. This is it, yo.

Permission granted, from Galactic Mystery, from the All-Knowing Cosmos, from my Spirit Guides, my Guardians, my Higher Self, my Intuition with a capital I, my Inner Knowing—my—

Which got me thinking (again). For those of us who aspire to be lightworkers or start some kind of heart-centred business in one way or another, do we all feel the need to be validated by the Unseen? Do we all feel like we need to receive some kind of sign, ushered to us via synchronicity or a soul-wrenching epiphany? Show us that we can. Show us that we are meant to do this. Burden us with glorious purpose.

I’m half-quoting Loki from the Avengers, if you haven’t noticed.

The truth is, I certainly felt like I needed a cosmic welcome into the realm of lightworkers. After all, am I not supposed to have some kind of epic past life with angelic or deeply intuitive resonance, having been a teacher or guru or shaman of something, to be embarking on this journey? Haven’t I done this before so I get to do it again, in this lifetime? Don’t I need to have some kind of ability such as clairvoyance or clairsentience to call myself a lightworker?

Shouldn’t I feel like I am called to do this, like there is an invisible yet unmistakable gravity that pulls me towards my destiny? Like if I choose to not embark on this journey, some tragic shit is going to happen to turn me around towards what I’m meant to do, what I’m supposed to do?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, especially during the past few days. I was having a mini existential crisis. Nothing major or concerning or suicidal, but I was very confused and insecure about where my life was supposed to be going. A lot has happened in the past few months in my personal life, and some of those things really shook me to my core and yanked free my anchor at the bottom of my spiritual ocean. I was reminded of my own mortality through the mortality of another. Not the best mindset to be in when you live in a city in which a fabled mega-earthquake is long overdue. An earthquake that will bring destruction and havoc to everything I know. Everything. I kid you not, I am legitimately scared of this earthquake. I’m scared of dying, of losing my loved ones, of becoming separated from my cat. The most prominent fear that I have, however, was that I would never get to live the life that I was meant to live. I would never reach completion. I would never fulfill my purpose.

Long story short: that was why I started questioning myself: why am I doing this again? Why do I want to do this? Why do I want to do “Fables Den”? Is it because I like helping people? I like expressing my creativity and my thoughts? Is it just that I want to share my stories and what I’ve learned? Is it simply because I enjoy it immensely, and that it breathes air to my soul?

Yes. All of the above. But like, am I supposed to be doing this? Or am I missing the mark completely? Am I burdened with some other glorious purpose?

A lot of considerations, journaling, tarot readings, meditations and dream-work have gone into the process of unearthing the answer. Just so you know, this is only one facet of some of the things I have come to realize, which I intend to share with you in another blog post or two, but for now, let me just tell you what I’ve learned about my grand purpose.

If you’ve read my “tarot origin story”, you will know that I was making fun of the idea of “having a coherent narrative in which you “answered the calling and became a tarot reader, you received the cosmic welcome and you were a tarot reader ever since.” You know what I’m talking about, right? You see those stories all the time, especially in tarot reader’s little bios. I don’t mean to diminish their narrative or the power of their narrative: a narrative is powerful precisely because it acts as a thread that connects the pieces of our life’s chapters together to form a cohesive story that can be used to empower and strengthen us. But it is also just a narrative. Just a story we tell. It is a conscious construction in which we string events together to create meaning depending on what we’re trying to convey.

As a result of wanting to fulfill the typical lightworker narrative and perhaps stringing together visions and events that speak to our purpose, perhaps, we fall victim to our fervent desire to fit into a mold, to tell a story that we all know: waiting for a sign, waiting for permission, waiting for the “call”. For some of us, this may be all true and potent. Powerful synchronicities do happen. The Universe does try to connect to us in mysterious ways, or we become attuned to our truest selves more until one day, we “wake up” from the delusion that we can’t be anything more than we are right now.

To be fair, tarot actually knocked on my doors four times. So I suppose I do have some sort of “calling”, if you want to call it that, but the funny thing is I never saw that as a calling. The reason why I fell in love with tarot wasn’t because somebody randomly decided to gift me with tarot decks twice, each time with a different deck incomplete in their own way, which “enraged” me enough so I eventually purchased a deck that scared the crap out of me, etc etc…

Long story short, who is to say what is a “calling” or a “cosmic sign”, and what is not? I never took those “signs” seriously. But I took my choice seriously and who I was seriously. I took to tarot because it aligned with my literary background and my love for poetic symbolism. It was really just a natural extension of who I was (and still am) at the time. But even with that understanding, I still  searched for a coherent narrative, I searched for the “big sign”. Because, well, it’s hard not to feel small from time to time, right? It’s hard not to yearn for that cosmic permission, right? Because we all want to be burdened with glorious purpose, right? We want to feel like our actions and our creative projects mean something. Something more than the lives we inhabit. Something bigger than ourselves. We all want to reach for the stars and become one.

Here is what I realized.

For me, the simple truth is, if I continue to wait throughout my whole life for that calling, for that grand permission from the Universe, the cosmic welcome—I will always be waiting. Because that’s what I feel like doing. You don’t need some grand synchronous gestures from invisible spiritual forces to tell you that you are meant to do something. You are meant to do something simply because it is what you want to do. More often than not, your desires are your truest and surest compass in life. They are both your North Star that guides you and the Anchor that grounds you.

Life is too short—so do whatever the fuck you want. What else you would rather be doing, instead? If you love it, do it, go for it. What other reason do you need? You do you. You tell your own story. You tell whatever story that suits your fancy. Here’s a version of mine:

When I was in kindergarten, I wanted to be the manager of a convenience store because Asian 7-11’s are little corner-sized consumerist paradise complete with Japanese rice-balls, bottles of tea that cost only 20 cents CAD, lifestyle items that were glorious to look at as a kid, and freshly pressed fashion magazines wrapped in plastic. And then all of a sudden I wanted to be a writer. I didn’t receive a calling or anything. I just felt like it. It was something I wanted to do. From that point on, it was a meandering journey of wanting to be a writer, then wanting desperately to be a writer, then somewhat wanting to be a person who works in the publishing industry or any work having to do with words, then I wanted to be a tarot reader, but then I was like nah it’s not my thing, but after 2 years of inactivity I still wanted to be a tarot reader.

Now I still want to be a tarot reader. A writer. A creative. And I have come to anchor down into the belief that my purpose or mission in this life is to live out my life as I want it. So I want to be a tarot reader, then I’ll be a tarot reader. If one day I feel like I want to do something completely different, then I’ll just go ahead and do that. Because if I’m not doing what I want to be doing, then I must be doing something that I don’t want.

If you want to be a tarot reader, just be a tarot reader. Do what you want to do. Do what makes you happy. Follow your desires.

Be the hero of your own story. And remember, you’re the author, as well. You get to go god-mode and do whatever you want with your experiences. Pretty cool, right? Go meta. Go embody. Go within. Go without. Now I’m just spewing nonsense that sounds poetic and cool (or does it?).

You only live once, yo. So honestly, like, just do whatever the fuck you want. Just do what you want. Because that’s what you should be doing.

And you want it because it is what you are meant to be doing.

-Kimberly, out.

P.S. Also, for the blog banners, since I can’t decide, I am putting a bunch of them on rotation. It’ll be like a little oracle, matching whatever mood you are in as soon as you enter this site. Ha! *self five* This is so much better than a still one. Bwahahahahahahahhaahahha.

Shadows Grow in Open Light

Level Up, Spiritual Wayfaring


Why do you hate yourself?

For 2017: to transform, to become brand new, to shine brighter, to live a better & more fulfilling life–here’s what you have to do.

Note down the one thing that you hate the most about yourself.

Interesting place to start, no? What happened to the obligatory optimism associated with the new year? Fear not, this exercise is not intended as a trigger for your downward spirals or negative psychological thought loops–although, it does take a bit of courage for you to unfold the neat napkin which held the negativity that you carefully wrapped up.

What is the one trait that really gets on your nerves? An aspect of yourself that you are insecure about, something you wish you don’t have, something you deeply resent and if you could surgically remove that part of your psyche, you would consent to the operation without hesitation.

For example, you resent the fact that you are always too forgiving. Too forgiving, too nice, too polite, too fluff-brained to really register people’s flaws. As a result, you suffer from losing parts of yourself to others who demand it. You give and you give and you give. You hate it. You wish you aren’t that kind of person. You wish you could be more assertive when it comes to saying no. You wish you are more discerning when it comes to manipulative behaviours from the ones you devote your time and energy to.

In your eyes, this is something negative. It’s something to be corrected, because it has brought you nothing but pain, heartache, and a sense of injustice. However, a personality trait is never inherently positive or negative. Your personality is simply your personality. It is neutral and does not carry any particular charges.

Depending on your upbringing, your culture, your gender, your race, and the specific life experiences you have had, you may have received judgements, directly or through social osmosis, about certain personality traits that you carry. The intersectionalities of life and complex psychocultural layers come to determine who you think you are and how you feel about yourself.

You place your identity in context of where you are and who you are with. You seek validation. You seek freedom. You seek a more colourful life and better experiences. If you are someone who is extremely forgiving, you come to see yourself as weak, passive, and/or stupid. You are supposed to be a strong, independent individual. You are supposed to know better. But you can’t help being forgiving, nor can you help seeing the best in others. This is how you function. You seek to bring out the light in others. You expect brilliance when there is little hope of seeing even the dimmest light from the cracks in someone’s spirit. And often, those people fail you. And it makes you feel like you have failed yourself.

If only you were not so easily forgiving. If only you were smarter, more assertive, stronger, more independent

Whatever that thing is you don’t like about yourself, I want you to know that it’s perfectly okay. It’s okay if you dislike yourself. We all do it from time to time. We are human. But there is absolutely no reason why you need to remain in the dark woods of self-hatred, scraping your precious skin against the thorny brambles. I want you to know that you are perfectly fine the way you are. I want you to know that, if there is one thing you take away from this blog post, that our biggest shadow comes from our biggest light–almost without exception.

What seems to consume us with guilt, resentment or insecurity is actually the other side of the coin. And the other side of that coin is our biggest strength. It’s the part of us that shines most.

You are too forgiving because you believe in one’s potential and possibility for positive changes. You are impulsive because your physical body cannot contain the pure energy that drives you to your heights. You are easily distracted because your brain is hardwired to pay attention to new information and to think outside of the box. You are cynical because you have a practical outlook on life.

The personality traits that you may seek to disown are merely labels. Depending on situation and circumstance, your action and behaviour can mean totally different things. They can become positively or negatively charged, for sure. When you are too forgiving with people who take advantage of you, you suffer because you sacrifice your personal boundaries, hoping that by giving them another chance, they will change for the better. But that’s the kind of faith that drives you to create impactful changes in the lives of people who are ready and in need of change. If you didn’t believe that people could change, how could you ever ripple change from your centre and touch the lives of others?

When you are too impulsive, make rash decisions or things rocket out of your mouth before your brain has a chance to edit or censor them, you hate yourself for being impatient. You hate yourself for not thinking before you act. You regret the decisions you have made and the things that you have done. But if you didn’t have that burst of energy, that raw momentum to chase after the things you want, to propel yourself forward–how could you have dared to be different, or to pursue your passions fearlessly?

Your personality traits aren’t positive or negative. They are neutral. They just are.

They belong to you. They are part of you. And you’re just you. You’re a certain way, and that’s just because you’re you. Accept it. Accept that you are you. Accept the fact that you are born this way and you will always be this way. Don’t seek to control it, for you are not something to be controlled.

That is not to say that you are a hopeless case, or that there is nothing you can do. Not at all. Your person is something that can be navigated. As you come to understand yourself better, you will also understand how you can best strategize so that you allow yourself to tap into your authentic self and shine, and learn how to navigate through the shadow aspects of your personality. You learn to manage and cope with the potential negative effects of your personality traits. You learn how to radiate your light and use it to be of service to yourself and to others.

Every time you make the decision to know yourself better, to become more aware, to accept yourself, to love yourself just a little more, to be more transparent, to exist with more clarity, more authenticity, and more wisdom–you become a better version of you.

You become better at loving yourself for who you are. You become better at being in this world in the best of ways. You don’t have to, you don’t need to, suffer in spite of yourself. You don’t need to go through any of that bullshit.

Instead, you become. You become better. Shadow and quirks and all, for those are also your brightest light and your greatest gifts.

You become better, better at being you.

I Still Believe in Unicorns: coming to love & accept my inner child

Level Up, Spiritual Wayfaring

Re: Kelly-Ann’s Self-Love September

My grade 4’s and 5’s no longer believe in unicorns. They are at the age where the world is starting to tell them that they have to behave like an adult. And it makes me sad to witness that slowly, they are losing their ability to imagine, the sheer simplicity and passion and fun in the wonders of imagining.

A few days ago, my grade 4 student said to me, “I’m honestly kind of shocked that you still have so much imagination at your age.” Right after I told her my preferred means of transportation is a house-sized hamster. To her, it was “kindergarten stuff”, and as an adult, I wasn’t supposed to do that. I wasn’t supposed to have an imagination.

I told her, “Everyday, I put in effort to make sure I never stop imagining.”

She was, again, shocked. “But why? You’re supposed to be an adult.”

And I thought to myself, sadly: Yes, I am an adult. I am an adult with an imagination. I am an adult who isn’t ashamed of her inner child, who no longer feels embarrassed about the fact that the pixels in her eyes never settle. I am an adult who chooses to be who I am and I am an adult who loves myself for the way I am.

“Weirdo,” she called me.

“You should never stop imagining,” I said. She was no longer listening.

This really hurts me, because it took me years to find my inner child again. It took me years to realize that I was losing her, and it took me a great leap of faith and courage to find her , to ask her to come back, to tell her that I wasn’t ever going to let her out of my sight again.

But I see it. These children. They are surrounded by parents, teachers, social values–an environment that puts them into rigid shapes and boxes, a structural realignment of your precious personhood towards a standardized model of maturity. Unicorns are childish. It’s impolite to laugh loudly or crack silly jokes. It’s self-conceited to call yourself the kings and queens of the world. It’s not okay to be like a kid anymore. Start acting like an adult. I see them lose touch with their creativity. I see their thinking process becoming more and more stunted. I see them sit up straighter, the muscles on their faces settle and consolidate into something more serious. I see them losing their imagination. I see them becoming someone they’re not.

And it hurts me. It makes me want to scream, You’re throwing it all away! This isn’t what it means to be an adult!

Yes, I get it. The pressure to become a mature, responsible adult figure. I know it all too well. When I was growing up, I was always expected to be the older sister, the role model, the “grown-up” while my little brother was the brat of the house. When I was older and if I acted slightly “less than my age”, I was judged for it. I remember I screamed excitedly at the cuteness of a spinach salad (folded and arranged into the shape of a cube) at a Japanese restaurant one time, and a friend of mine spat harshly, “Kim, you’re so childish.”

I remember when I was in university and living in dorm, I told my roommate about my first relationship experience. I told her I fell in love with love, and I was young and didn’t know better. She asked me what grade was I when I got into my first relationship, I told her I was grade 12.

“Oh, I thought you would be like, grade 9 or middle school or something…”

Really? You were grade 12 and you were immature and childish enough to still be in a relationship like that?

I honestly wanted to scream.

So what? So what if I danced and laughed and “freaked out” like a kid when I saw how cute that spinach cube was? So what if I was grade 12 when I entered my first relationship? What do you know about me?

I squealed at the spinach cube because I appreciated the little interesting surprises in life.

I entered my first relationship in grade 12, and I was inexperienced. I blamed myself a lot for being stupid and soft and passive, but many things were a reflection of deeper relationship issues that did not pertain to me being “immature”.  But it didn’t matter. I wasn’t able to defend myself against the judgement of others. I didn’t love myself enough to not care about the judgement of others.

Back then, I was unaware. I let the world slap my inner child in the face. Repeatedly. I let myself slap her in the face. Why can’t you be quirky…but like, cool? Could you stop watching these cartoons and animes? Could you stop buying these cute Asian stationary? Could you stop liking Hello Kitty? Could you stop talking about your mom and dad like you’re still a freaking baby?

Could you stop being yourself?

How my inner child cried. She cried silently, but she refused to leave. One day. One day she would get through to me, because she knew deep down inside I never wanted to stop being a child. I wanted to express freely, creatively, spontaneously. I wanted to have fun, be a goofball, talk about silly things. I wanted to be quirky, to shine with the entire spectrum of my personality and not just the parts of it that were socially acceptable. I wanted to be whole.

My inner child. She wanted to come back into the picture. She wanted to be part of the spectrum and not be left out. And for years, she endured the oppression and repression of her wondrous existence. She listened to all of my self-deprecating bullshit about what it meant to be a grown-up, but she kept hanging on. Stubbornly, she waited. She waited for me to love her, even though I hated her and wanted to stay away from her. She waited for me to love her again, fully, unapologetically. She waited for me even though I was a complete and total jerk, loved me when I didn’t love myself enough, when I wasn’t brave enough to show the world that: this is who I am. This is who we are.  Take her as she is, because she is mine. She is part of me. She deserves my love and deserves the sun and the endless blue sky.

She waited for me, and I was so glad when I found her. I found her backed up in a little corner, the colours of her hair strained and paling, hugging her knees and rocking herself. When I found her, she wast trembling, but there was a look of determination in her eyes. She told me she never lost faith in me, and that she would never leave me. Throughout my life, I was scared of being judged as immature, childish, silly, goofy, or stupid. I was ashamed of my inner child: somehow it wasn’t appropriate for a 25 year old to still be in love with Disney, to marvel at the little things in the world with wide googly eyes. It wasn’t appropriate to be wanderstruck and to show it, to pretend to prowl open the automatic doors with magical powers, or to doodle cats and donuts on a piece of paper. I walked to her. I told her I was sorry, and I was going to show her the way. I wanted to tell her how much I missed her, and I wanted to thank her for being with me still after all these self-abasing years. I wanted to take her hand and lead her out of this distorted prison. I wanted to tell her to run free in a field of golden grass, to stare up at the free summer sky–she can dance, laugh, and shriek all she likes. I wanted to tell her that I love her more than anything in the world.But before I could say a word, she took my hand knowingly. As I broke down into tears, utterly inconsolable, she took my hand. She took me into her arms, her mushroom haircut reminding me of my awkward days dancing to folk music with my classmates in kindergarten back in Taiwan. Back in kindergarten, I was quiet and introverted and shy, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care if I looked like I was having a seizure heaving my limbs jaggedly back and forth. I didn’t care that I didn’t have much dance in my DNA. I heard the music and I started moving. I didn’t care. I was happiness and love and dreams and everything I wanted to be in that very moment.

I sobbed quietly, joyously. My inner child and I cuddled. We held hands. She told me she had no tissues available for the gooey mess on my face. I smiled, squeezing out more tears from the corners of my eye.

I love you. You are my magic. My leopard-spotted courage and my rainbow-coloured thunder bolt. You are the dreams that never end. You are the flesh on the body of my soul and you are my child. My precious inner child.

And I love you. I love you so much.

I love you more than anything in the world.

My Self-Love Story: Afterthoughts

Level Up, Spiritual Wayfaring

Re: Kelly-Ann’s Self-Love September

I have always known that language is a huge part of my life, but it wasn’t until I made the self-love video about my experiences as an immigrant and ESL student that I realized the gravity and the layers of meanings attached to the word “language”–and how those things weighed down on my psyche.

Naturally, language is one of the many if not the primary ways in which express ourselves. We voice our ideas with words. We communicate to others with words. Words carry incredible power because they carry our voices, our thoughts, our ideas, our feelings, our memories…words are so many things.

I was first and foremost a lover of words. Then, I was an ESL student. You can see the conundrum I was faced with. I was always in a love-hate relationship with words. When I was growing up in Canada, words represented a vacuum–they were something that I severely lacked, or felt that I severely lacked. They represented my incapability of speech and personal expression. They meant that no matter how hard I tried to be myself, I couldn’t–thanks to the language barrier. Needing to piece together my voice again with a completely different linguistic system was quite hellish. In fact, that was one of the biggest hang-ups when I was a teenager: I wanted to be myself, but I couldn’t.

I dreamed of the day when I would become “myself”. I prayed for that day to come. In my imaginary world populated by ideals, I was funny, social, fluent in English, eloquent, quirky, and unafraid to speak up for myself. I was the girl telling jokes that made everybody laugh, and I was the girl who strung words together like magic and delivering punch-line after punch-line in regular conversations. In my dreams, I was perfect. And how fiercely and fervently I hoped to become this person.

Sounds familiar? The brightest of our dreams sometimes cast the biggest of our shadows.

On top of being an ESL student, I was also going through body image issues. Similar to North America, Asian culture also has an obsession towards being skinny. One of the things I became really upset about was how hideous my elephantine legs looked to myself. They weren’t long, flawless, shapely, or perfect. I would look like a disgusting creature trying to be someone I wasn’t if I ever attempted to wear a mini skirt. The Japanese anime culture probably played a part in my perception of myself, as well. Those unrealistic and disproportionate leg-lengths impressed themselves upon my innocent mind by force. In addition, I thought I had a ginormous butt. Unlike the popular butt-trends these days, having a non-existent behind was all the rage in Taiwan back then.

And perhaps because of my body-image issues and my desire to be perfect,  I also carried around an irrational fear of harsh judgement. I still do sometimes. Honestly, this is the one thing I cannot solve and do not have a story for–yes, there have been times when I was judged, and perhaps unfairly, but I never really figured out were this overwhelming fear of judgement came from. Maybe it was because I grew up in a highly conformist Asian culture. “The nail that sticks out gets hammered down”–remember that? It’s not too far from the truth. Maybe I overly attached the validation of others to my own sense of self-worth. No matter how much I mulled this over, I have yet to identify an origin that bears meaning to my personal narrative.

Maybe I am just trivializing my experiences. I tend to do that often. As I am typing this blog post and running through some of the ideas in my head, I kept thinking to myself: my story seems like nothing compared to the folks who really went through shit in life. Gosh my life just isn’t shitty enough to make an insightful story! How bloody ridiculous!! Man I still have work to do.

In many ways, I feel fortunate and grateful that my ESL experience hadn’t been a blatantly racial one. In my video I talked about how sometimes I have this reluctant and irrational avoidance-behavior towards white people because as a person of colour, I am scared to be labeled as such. I am scared to be labeled as an ESL student–scared of being labeled as “other”. But other than my own insecurities, I feel like I am one of the lucky ones. I have never experienced my Asianness as a negative thing. I’m aware of some of the challenges that I have had as an immigrant when it comes to finding myself, but throughout my life I have never really been discriminated against based on my race. The people I encountered in my community, regardless of their skin colour, have never made “race” an issue. Because of this I rarely felt the need to declare myself as “Asian Canadian”. Sure, I’m Asian, and I’m also Canadian–but I’m mostly just me, you know. Kimberly Ming Tsan.

But yeah, as I consider the various chapters of my self-love journey, I am starting to recognize just how much weight or “karma” I have been carrying. For me, karma isn’t essentially good or bad–I like to say that karma is the weight we carry within our souls. It’s the patterns that we carry unconsciously into our daily lives and into our relationships. Lessons we have yet to learn. It defines our tendency to make certain choices and to think certain thoughts. I believe the karma we carry is an interesting cosmic mixture of what we have experienced in our current lifetime, as well as our previous lifetimes. It is our responsibility to be aware or seek to be aware of those patterns so we can be free from them. It is our duty to try our best to resolve our karma with ourselves and with other people because doing so is the grandest declaration of our love to our “selves”. It is honestly the most important gesture of self-love that we can make.

How to em”body” your life more fully

Level Up, Spiritual Wayfaring

When I’m tired, I am more subjected to self-criticism and insecurity.

I worry about the dark circles under my eyes, the smoothness of my skin, the way my hair falls and frames my face. When people notice the semi-dead expression that I wear and the prolonged reaction of my mental workings, they will flag me as inappropriate and judge me for not being at my best. It’s silly. I’m scared that people can tell that I am tired, that I am lacking some good protein–that I am not functioning at my optimal today. They will turn with a snicker, their unspoken criticism seeping into my skin, collecting themselves like organic black sand into hideous lifeforms, touching the flesh of my heart with their insidious hands, slowly smothering my heartbeat.

I feel so defeated–having my life sucked out of me. Other things start to haunt me: old ghosts, unspeakables, instangible fears. I hate my skin, my body. I don’t look like my perfect self. I am insufficient to exist in this world.

Stop looking at me. Stop thinking about me. There I am, letting my imagination turning myself into something sinister.

Relax those shoulders. Gentle, open heart. Deep breath. Inhale, exhale.

There are days when I love myself and there are days when I don’t.

The days when I do, I have come to notice, are the days when I really take care of myself physically. Days when I sleep better, eat better, and exercise better. Days when I say to myself: you’ve got to be healthy. This is more important than anything else. You can’t thrive without your health.

It’s funny. Of course! I have always known that health is something absolutely essential when it comes to feeling good in life. It is something I know I should prioritize. I know it on a logical level. My brain approves. But there are always something more important than choosing the right food, exercising the right amount of days, or sleeping at regular hours. Journaling–gotta process this experience so I can extract the necessary wisdom. Tarot readings–I need to speak to my guides and gain clarity on this particular issue. Weekly planning–yes, need to figure out how I can be be productive and maximize my time in each day. I’m a spiritual person, so I must feed my spirit and take good care of it. Oh yeah.

Meanwhile, my poor body, taps me on the shoulder. I brush its hand away and says, “Later.”

Neglected and lonely, it sulks in a corner. My back aches from sitting. My legs bloated from poor circulation. I climb a flight of stairs and I am breathless, my heart beating fast against my ears. My focus wanes considerably. I’m half dead throughout the day. I feel stiff, awkward, unanchored. I feel tired of being tired most of the time. I will be more or less awake, conscious. My body is moving, but it’s like I’m not fully there.

For the past two years, I have failed to fully embody my life. Because of that, I wasn’t fully alive. Not really.

Well, I was, but it wasn’t the best state of being alive. I wasn’t alive alive. You know what I mean?

I didn’t know I wasn’t providing myself with enough energy until I started making sure I supplied my body with sufficient protein every day. I didn’t know the solution was so simple. One day, I felt awake, awake in my mind and body, simply because I ate additional chicken for breakfast and for lunch. I was embodying my life that day. I was grounded and anchored that day. Just because I was eating right.

And I didn’t know the constant discomforts in my stomach were caused by my tea obsession. English Breakfast with sugar and cream in the morning. Chai latte in the evening. I loved strong tea–still do. But that was giving me indigestion, because caffeine gives you indigestion. It was a simple fact that I didn’t want to recognize. Because I loved tea and didn’t want to give up tea.

And I didn’t know how much more windowshopping I could actually do after I started exercising regularly in the morning. I’m not really into sports, but windowshopping is one of the sports I enjoy.

All of these minor discomforts: stiffness and soreness in the body, perpetual tiredness, chronic indigestion…made me a zombie. I was trudging through my days, complaining about how I didn’t have enough time, stressing over how little I had accomplished, wanting to do more, wanting to push myself to my full capacity, wanting more wisdom in life, wanting a deeper spiritual connection–

I tapped my body on the shoulder. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” I said.

It brushed my hand away and said, “Later.”

But it really meant, I can’t.

I can’t run as fast as you want me to. 

“Why!?” I cried.

My body looked at me and shook its head.

You know why.

Yes, I do. I did. I have always known. There is no excuse.

The truth is I am shocked that I let myself function at way below par for almost two whole years like a lifeless zombie. Two. Whole. Years. Maybe more than that. Of not eating right. Not sleeping right. Not exercising right. My life could have been so much fuller. Richer. If I had only taken care of my body so my spirit could fully embody it.

And now I have tasted how full and rich life can be…how awake I can actually be without mindlessly slugging through the day. How alive I now feel.

I am never going back.

Can you be scared of what you want? Yes.

Level Up, Spiritual Wayfaring

can-you-be-scared-of-what-you-wantI’m scared of what I want sometimes.

Let’s unpack that a little. The wanting itself is pure. My desires are simple. I know what I want, and I know what I need to do to get there, but in the back of my head, there is a tiny voice…

What will people think of you?

Specifically–what will people think of you, if you fail?

Maybe I don’t want it that much after all. Maybe I am comfortable where I am. Yes, maybe I should appreciate more of what I have right now. Maybe this is what my life is supposed to be. Maybe I’m supposed to be more connected with the Now. Yes, that is being very spiritual indeed. I like it. Look deeper into the process. Strengthen those connections with the Self.

Nah, I don’t need to work towards that. Let me start this other thing that actually gets to my core–and is the ultimate creative expression of who I am.

Okay, great. But what if you fail? What if you’re not good enough? What if people criticize you? Shame you? Reject you?

Maybe I don’t want it this much after all.

I retreat back into my shell. I side step. I look the other way. I convince myself that hey, it’s not too bad. This is the life you are meant to live. You are perfectly fine in this life. Why build something more?

Why pursue what you want if it might bring you failure, rejection, and disappointment?

Stay here. Stay right here. Cuddle with me. It’s comfy here. You don’t have to fight for anything. You don’t have to work either. You don’t have to be scared.

Stay right here, right here, right here right here right here….

Then there is a moment when I snap out of this trance and practiced apathy. No, I don’t want to stay there. I want to live my life to the fullest. I am living a happy life, but life can be so much more.

Even then, it’s hard for me to care deeply. Is there something wrong with me? Am I not normal for feeling passion–for something that I truly desire?

Strangely, this reminds me of the times when I’m angry. I rarely explode out of anger, but it’s always after-the-fact. A few hours later after what should have provoked my immediately anger, my heart boils with indignance and regret. I should have said something. Why didn’t I say something!?

Because it’s easier to stay silent. Then I don’t risk confrontation. Then I don’t risk conflict. Then I don’t risk a heated exchange of words. Then if I say the wrong thing at the wrong time, I wouldn’t have to face rejection.

Pursuing your creative dreams can be scary. Since creativity is so essential towards one’s self-expression, it is of course deeply connected with one’s sense of self. To be rejected or perhaps worse, ignored…just thinking about it breaks my heart.

I have always been afraid of judgement and criticism. But underlying that fear, there is a deeper fear of rejection. I don’t want people to say no to me. I don’t want people to say no to my creative work. Even at the slightest sign of rejection, real or imaginary, I retreat back into my shell. I get pulled back by fear’s comforting hands into bed. There there, what did I tell you? Come back so I don’t have to get mad at you.


There is so much more that I want in life.

What did I say about wanting? Risking? Risking rejection? You don’t want that, do you?

No. But I want my life more. I want to live. I want to fully embody my life. I want every single choice that I do is out of my passion for life and creative expression. Yes, I like comfort, but I want to have an adventure. I want to venture out of my bubble and do grand things so I have a story to tell.

So I pray for courage. Even now, the word courage seems like a faint echo…I need to physically severe myself from my apathetic constraints. Desire..what do I want in life?

I know what I want in life, and I want to want them more.



By the way, this way to your life’s calling…

Level Up, Spiritual Wayfaring


My creative and spiritual journey has taken an interesting turn. What is my creative and spiritual calling? I’ve been trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. How can I combine all that I know, all that I am, all that I love into something that I can share with the world?

I’ve been blogging about tarot–tarot reading, tarot writing, tarot reviews, tarot and spirit, etc. I have also been trying to establish myself as a tarot reader. I thought this was it–tarot reader + writer. Tarot combines my spiritual passion, my desire to be a healer and lightworker, and writing as a means of creative expressions all into one.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no intention of stopping. Tarot feeds a huge part of my soul and fills me with vibrant energy. Something else is emerging within me, however…

Other than being a gargantuan tarot nerd, I am also an English tutor. Teaching is also one of my life’s biggest and deepest callings. For the past couple of months I have been trying to figure out how to organically fuse the two very different yet undoubtedly connected parts of my life together. English tutoring. Tarot and spirituality. They don’t seem to intersect at all, but subconsciously I knew that there must be a way to put them under one umbrella. So I threw them into my cauldron of life and let them simmer, not knowing what I would get at the end of it.

And as the soup of my soul and the colour of my spirit bubbles and changes, I think I am beginning to have an idea…

At first, I thought about fusing them in very physical and literal ways. Maybe I can introduce tarot to my tutoring services, but that might be kind of odd–not to mention that the majority of my students are under the age of 18, and giving them a tarot reading might not be the best way to help them learn. True, I can use tarot to help them understanding their strengths and weaknesses as a learner, and maybe help them develop a better relationship with learning. But how do I bring the parents on board? Not to mention that a lot of the tension a student experiences may come directly from their parents. If I volunteer my tarot service to help them gain insight about their learning situation–who knows what I will unearth? How do I even begin to facilitate that kind of interaction? In a way that defeats my role as an English tutor. I work with the parents and students to help them with their language learning, and throwing in their psychological well being and process into the mix doesn’t really contribute to their academic improvement. In short, I decided that it was way too complicated.

Then I thought about bringing tutoring into my tarot practice. So what can I do with tutor + tarot? Tutor tarot? After a quick search, I found out that there was already a tarot tutor on Youtube, and thinking about this possible path doesn’t really fill me with excitement. I feel like there are already enough card definitions out there available online and via published tarot works…and how do I get “students”? Somehow imagining tarot in a tutoring setting just doesn’t click. Personally, I’m not really interested in reading another book of tarot definitions myself, since I don’t like to be spoonfed what a card means. I would very much like to uncover the definition myself and explore an archetype on my own terms and interpret it with my worldview.

I then started to ponder on my approach and philosophy as an English tutor. In short, my ultimate goal is to assist my students and help them develop the skills that they need to function independently as a learner, as well as to challenge them to think critically so they are able to problem solve when they encounter issues with writing in the future. I mostly help my students excel in writing, and writing, at its core, is a creative and logical process comprised of a series of choices.

Process. Choices. Those are familiar terms that I frequently use in my tarot practice as well. What I believe about tarot is that it offers us clarity and helps us explore our psyche. With a better understanding of what we are facing and what is going on in our innerscapes, we are able to make better decisions to empower ourselves. We can use tarot cards to guide us towards the next step of our life’s journey. Ultimately, it is about what we choose. Do we choose to fall back into our old patterns and resist change, or do we choose to empower ourselves and cultivate a more fulfilling life?

It is a journey. A process. A choice. Choices.

The connection is becoming clearer and clearer. What I offer as a tutor is new perspectives + useful tools for a student to create and problem-solve their writing. When I offer as a tarot is also new perspectives/insight + useful tools for a person to create and problem-solve their lives.

Tools. When I looked back at my blog posts and some of my Youtube videos–something that really gets my creative engine fired up is coming up with ways, exercises, or tools that will help a fellow tarot wayfarer to gain better understanding of their own tarot practice. For example, 5 ways to explore a single tarot card,  or tarot writing series: brainstorming characters…they are all essentially “tools” that will help somebody discover insight and truths on their own terms.

Tools. I looked at my own tutoring practice: when do I get a creative kick? Not surprisingly, it’s when I am designing worksheets, lesson planning, and or coming with discussion questions, say, that will help students deepen their understanding towards a poem. Or formulating paragraph response questions. Or coming up with graphic organizers that can help students analyze a short story. These are all incredibly process-oriented. I am helping my students with their process of analysis and understanding.

Tarot + tutoring. This is the convergence. Process. Tools. This is what I love to do: creating tools and exercises to aid in somebody’s journey. It’s kind of like a tarot reader, which I enjoy being + doing…but I feel like I am more like a spiritual peddler carrying and offering small miscellaneous goods that will serve as a power-boost on somebody’s epic journey. I imagine myself traveling with a little cart, pulled by a down-to-earth pony with milky mane–and when somebody approaches I am all excited to be opening up my little portable shop and be like, “Hey!! So what do you need today? I have some maps if you’re lost, and some quills and ink if you need to write down your thoughts and do some trip planning, and ALSO I have these bags of dried lavender if you’re looking for a good night’s sleep….and yeah, that over there is a bag of lizard food, if you happen to be carrying a hungry lizard…oh you have a sore knee? I don’t have medicine for sore knees but I DO HAVE some instructions on dance therapy that can help you stretch out your muscles and help you heal…”

You know how I know this is my true calling? That this is an authentic expression of who I am? Not only does it feel so right…I actually cried when I typed out that previous paragraph. A spirit peddler. Not a grand teacher of some sort, not a wise sage hidden in the mountains that must be sought out, just a creative and endearing traveler like many others, just somebody who wants to share the little gift items she’s made with the people she’s come across. I’m not even kidding. My face is covered by my tears right now–that’s when I know my spirit is happy. That’s when I know I’ve touched the truth in my heart.

A spirit peddler. Kind of a cute title, eh? It’s so funny because I’ve always been kind of goofy and adorable LOL!! Gross that I am saying this about myself, but it’s true, haha.

As for what goods I am peddling…hehe. You shall see. Stay tuned. 🙂


Hey inner critic, STFU, and if you don’t mind, GTFO

Level Up, Spiritual Wayfaring


You may notice that I am swearing more in my blog posts, because I totally am! And what a relief. Let me tell you why. I am pretty sure you can relate to this self-censoring bullcrap I am about to share with you.

As a person, I swear occasionally. I don’t drop the F-bomb every other sentence, but there are moments when I do. Not out of anger (unless I banged my toe against the sharp corners of my bed, then yes, F-bomb blitzkrieg accompanied by tearful moans). Swearing isn’t really my way of venting. I swear, well, because it’s fun. It adds humour to the message I am trying to convey. The sharp, snappy add-on–the verbal lunch of the collective frustrations of mankind all packed into one word. Shit Fuck. It’s really funny. Not to mention sometimes it can be the best punchline ever. Or at least, it adds spice to your punchline.

But most importantly, it’s part of my vocabulary and part of the language of my creative self-expression. In short, I just swear.

I know a lot of writers out there will say, but swearing! A lot of spiritual wayfarers will also cover their ears and go, but swearing! It lowers the quality of your writing. It shows that you don’t have the proper vocabulary to express your ideas in an elegant way. Or it lowers your soul’s vibrations. It lowers your class.

I’m not saying those things don’t happen, but I think what it comes down to is your intentions behind these, uh, “foul languages”.

When it comes to writing, I have to live with my inner critic. Don’t we all!? And well, my inner critic is superbly critical of me, since it’s her job to be mean. Sometimes I find myself staring at the phrases like “fucking hell” or “shit bomb” and fighting an internal war as I suspend my index finger over the backspace button. Yes, I worry about the quality of my writing…I worry about not sounding intellectual enough…I worry about coming across as too crass or mundane…I worry about how I project myself forward through my writing. Would my language offend somebody? Would it be too much? Would it be enough? Would this be what I truly want to send off to internet-land for it to exist forever and ever and ever?

Who cares. It’s your writing. You can do whatever you want. 

But. What if–?

Man. So much trouble just over a few tiny swear words. On top of that, I worry about “not sounding eloquent enough” or “Am I pumping out enough quirky figurative languages to express my personality?” or “Is this humour appropriate…would people get my goofy fun-feels?” And if you go deeper into my mental control centre, you will see a frantic Asian girl pulling her hair out and grinding her teeth: Personal branding. Unique voice. Creative expression. Must. Have. Everything. Image. View counts. Numbers. More blogger problems. 

So much SHIT going on in my head over one blog post!! What ends up happening is nearly always a lifeless piece of writing carved from a perfectly shaped word-marble into a perfectly shaped representation of my ideas devoid of any personality whatsoever. It’s not that bad, but it’s kind of that bad. I look at all my blog posts: the ones that I write in the spur of a moment, in a flash of creative outburst, like the ones I feel like writing fifteen minutes before I go to bed…the ones in which I really let go and just immerse in the moment, a singular moment in which I am creating something. I am shaping my ideas into form, into words. That’s all I am doing.

Those are, surprisingly and not surprisingly, the blog posts that get the most likes and view counts. Those blog posts are some of my best work. Interesting, right? Not really. I think people respond to authenticity. They respond to your raw spirit because they can feel it in your writing. When you don’t swim in the whirlpool of your self-consciousness, the words that pour out of you are the true genuine stuff. They bend and shine and ripple. They are an organic creation of who you are as a person and embody the ideas that you have the way a flower embodies its special scent. It just is. It’s just you, your words, in a blog post, uncensored, untouched by unrealistic (or realistic?) expectations and far from the reach of your inner critic. Nope, your inner critic totally did not get a chance to wreak havoc across your creative landscape that day. Hip hip hooray. I guess my Muse keeps it away.

Self-censoring is tiring. And self-editing. (Now now, a good dose of editing is never a bad thing. I’m talking about editing your words until they’re not your own anymore.) Just let the words flow. At least in your first draft, don’t change the words you have chosen. Stop worrying about if it’s too easy or not complex enough to convey your sophisticated ideas. When your ideas call for that kind of language, trust me, those are the words that will flow in your creative river of consciousness. The language that you learned will always be there at your disposal, but certain ideas or expressions call for certain language…like it’ll be weird if you bust out a hardcore hip hop twerk move as soon as orchestral swan lake starts itself with the strings, right?

I mean, who knows, that could be your jam, but I’m just saying certain music carry certain moods, and those moods will in turn inspire and pull out dance moves that match those vibes. This is exactly like writing. Sometimes you have to trust your creative process and tell your inner critic or your rational brain to STFU (a.k.a. shut the fuck up).

You have to let the words flow, and


as they are.

Don’t judge me

Level Up, Spiritual Wayfaring


I’m sure I am not the only one stressing over how other people see me as an individual. It’s a common phenomenon in our collective human experience to waste thoughts on things you have no control over. The thing is, we all know that from theory, right? But to emotionally and mentally enter and inhabit that space of insight is something very difficult indeed.

This is something I personally struggle with. It’s gotten better over the years but it’s still an ongoing journey for me. A big part of overcoming the fear of judgement is to cultivate self-love and confidence: often, the shadows and sense of self-lack within us become negatively projected unto the speech and actions of another. This is an unhealthy, vicious cycle and a self-fulfilling curse of dwindling self-worth. Beyond that, though, well…there isn’t much you can do. You can’t exactly tell others to perceive you in a certain way.

Of course, this is a complex issue and I’m just presenting you my side of the cookie–you can take a bite, but you don’t have to. (I am really craving some form of bakery, so excuse the metaphor. Somebody give me a bag of yogurt pretzels, PLEASE. I will, WILL, marry you)

Thinking about it now, the world is obsessed with the idea of image: look at our social media. Without a doubt, they help us keep in touch and connect with each other, but the moment you set up that profile page…you are consciously projecting and creating a certain image or persona that you wish to put forward, are you not?

It’s absolutely neurotic to be honest. Constantly we are calculating in our little brains, fretting with our little hearts about how to act appropriately under this given circumstance or in front of this particular individual. Was that the right thing to say? Why did he say that to me and what did he mean? We spend so much time orchestrating scenarios in our heads, as if life is a bad manifestation of the perfect script in our mind.

Here’s a thought that might bring you relief: life isn’t a movie. Our dialogues and actions aren’t scripted. Things will never be perfectly linear and comprehensible and just the way we want it. Our interactions and conversations with others are filled with um’s and ah’s and awkward moments that may or may not be the reflection of who we are.

Here’s another thought that might bring you relief.

You are a multi-dimensional, multi-faceted and incredibly complex being and you can’t control how another person, who is also equally multi-dimensional, multi-faceted and incredibly complex, perceive you.

You cannot be encapsulated by a singular or a series of adjectives. Your existence is comprised of your worldview, your personality, your cultural and ethnic background, your family, your values, your experiences, your memories, your karma. You are an organic existence in constant motion. Your identity is a matrix of ideas that cannot be pinned down by what one person thinks or says about you. You are more than just words in a language. You are more than what meets the eye. You are the universe in ecstatic motion.

And your perceivers are the same way. Like you, their individual existence is an entire universe. How can you possibly entertain yourself with the idea that they must perceive you in a certain way, or behave in the exact way you want them to? The sheer complexity, impracticality and impossibility of it. You cannot orchestrate a entire galaxy of organic existences according to your imagining. That is mission impossible. That is a shout into the void. That is a complete and utter waste of life force. You are bound to get lost in that black hole of no-return.

And let me just tell you that when I reached this epiphany, I was so, fucking, relieved. I spent the majority of my life with a constantly wounded heart about, more often than not, what I thought somebody said about me or thought about it. I was so relieved. So, so relieved. As human beings, I don’t think we will ever stop seeking validation from others, because we are social beings and we seek to be connected. But hey! Now I only need to worry about connections that are truly worthwhile to me. Like, oh my god, I cannot believe I don’t have to stress over this bullshit anymore. It’s really as simple as that: wanting others to perceive me in a certain way? Me wanting to appear in a certain way? Impossible. It just doesn’t work from my end or their end. Next time, if you ever go down that rabbit hole again, seriously—just fuck it. So, so, sooo not worth it.

In the end, I don’t think my fear of judgement will just magically disappear as if my epiphany is a convenient delete button. No, human beings are not like that. There is no on and off switch that you can find that you can just switch off your insecurities or fear of criticism, just like that. One thing I am learning recently is that spiritual wisdom or insights about life need to be practiced. Otherwise, they’re complete useless. Don’t keep the goodies inside your drawer, right? Show them to the world. Use them for your own benefit, go out there, dance, shine, and all that jazz.

It’s always an ongoing journey: the beautiful trademark of humanity, I suppose.

Oh, and that quote about the universe in ecstatic motion? It’s by Rumi. Seriously, that guy. So amazing.


I Am Temperance

Level Up, Spiritual Wayfaring


Edit: Dear God so many typos. Guess I should have proofread twice.

This is my newly updated blog header. It is a collection of Temperance cards from my favourite decks: Dreaming Way, Universal Fantasy Tarot, Mystical Cats, Wild Unknown, Fairy Lights, and Night Sun.

I remember reading one episode of Tarot Spotlight from the Four Queens, featuring Ashes and Wine Tarot a while ago. I remember this question was asked: “If you had to describe your reading style with a Tarot card, which one would you choose and why?” 

Good question! As I started reflecting on my own tarot reading style and my own worldviews, I could not exactly pinpoint which tarot card would fittingly describe me as a reader. I thought I might be Strength, because I like to focus on self-empowerment. However, although self-empowerment is important to me, it didn’t feel like it was something that defined me as a tarot reader. I thought about Death and Tower, because I believe in self-renewals, the willingness to accept the inevitable as well as the ability to open up oneself towards changes. No, not quite right, either. Maybe the Wheel? Surrender and let go?

None of those cards seemed right. I set the question aside and decided to return to it later. A few days ago, it occurred to me that I am, in fact, quite accurately represented byTemperance. It dawned on me all of a sudden–and it surprised me that I didn’t think of this before! But there we go. I am Temperance.

Temperance is about balance and flow. It is about living in the Now and relishing, walking gracefully in the Nowness. It’s about connecting with the present moment, not worrying about the Future, not being trapped in the past. It is about the Moment. It is also about balancing your perspectives, centreing yourself, remaining free but grounded in the fluidity of the Universe.

Temperance also reminds me of the Middle Way, because of its theme of balance. The Buddhist Middle Way is about avoiding the extremes and living peacefully with yourself and your circumstances in calmness and neutrality. Temperance also reminds me of the Tao: the push and the pull of the currents of the universe in their most natural state of being and existence, the yin and the yang.

Furthermore, Temperance is clarity and detachment. It’s about opening yourself up and becoming the hub of everything around you. There is an immense energy and attitude of freedom emitting from the Temperance card. While you may be limited by your background, your circumstance, by your physical incapability, by others who are consciously or unconsciously seeking to hinder you, by aspects of reality itself–your very existence or your very self is Free. It is liberated because you choose to liberate yourself by connecting to the Now and the Flow. You choose to be free and fluid. You choose to dance and make the best out of your given space instead of rigidly standing there and waiting for the worst to come.

Temperance is about choice and deliberately entering Freedom. Or shall I say, consciously creating freedom in your life?

Basically, Temperance describes my core attitudes towards spirituality and towards life. Needless to say this is reflected in my tarot readings and my style as a tarot reader. My observation is that my tarot readings are often geared towards self-discovery, letting go of negativity, and connecting the true part of yourself that is eternal and free. And then, choosing to stay there after you’ve found that liberating self-space–choosing Temperance and staying in the Temperance zone.

Other than Temperance, to be honest, I was just thinking to myself that: I can say that I’m a little bit of every card in the major arcana, and even the minor arcana. Which is really pointing towards the sky and saying, “There is a sky!” The tarot, of course, is meant to capture the human experience and psyche–of course I’m a bit of everything because I am, of course, human!!

But you know, sometimes we know there is a sky, but we really come to appreciate it when we look up to admire the different shades of blue, the slow, distant and tectonic movement of the white clouds smearing across the celestial canvas. That’s when we stare, in silence, and say to ourselves, “There is a sky up there.” In the same way, I rediscovered tarot (again!) and realized that every time I hold a tarot deck, I hold the complicated matrix creature that is myself in my own hands.

And that never ceases to be cool.