I wish it had a better beginning. Then again, not all stories do, and how dull this recollection would have been if it started on a tranquil note.

I was hung up over a guy – something I never dared to write about publicly up until today, because, frankly, I don’t even know where or how to start. It was the first time I ever confessed my feelings to someone, the build-up and aftermath of which were as convoluted as they were chaotic. Consequently, that soon snowballed into me finally discussing my sexual orientation with my family. And do take note: “discussing”, not “disclosing”. The latter never really felt necessary, so my coming out was anything but ceremonious. I just mentioned it in passing.

Now, some might wonder: Why did I wait until the tail end of my twenties to take that leap? That entails another sprawling saga, to be honest. And, besides, this isn’t so much about my preference or that toxic infatuation. It’s about what transpired after.

The Initial Downward Spiral

It’s not like I wasn’t exposed to tarot before. Back in 2007, my then-work colleague, Juno, read me with his Osho Zen deck on a Friday night out. That’s when I realized that it’s not strictly fortune telling, as the vast majority would tend to connote. Instead, it’s an articulation of one’s inner truths and a reflection of one’s current energy. It doesn’t end with predicting future events; it’s also about achieving resonance. Suffice to say, I was fascinated.  

Then came the not-so-startling discovery that it runs in our blood. I can only surmise why the rest of the clan downplayed those factoids back then. Chock it down, perhaps, to culture and stigma.

The easy access proved precious in Summer 2013, when my interactions with Said Guy intensified. Thanks to his knack for cliffhangers like “I have something to tell you, but I can’t”, my mind teemed with questions. As such, he became a regular subject of query. All I had to do was holler and the insights were mere draws away. My mistake was staying transfixed on just that: the validation. Not on how I was treated post-confession.

In hindsight, I wouldn’t take 28-year-old me as client. Simply put, I was at my most emotionally vampiric. I’d seek sessions about the same topic in weekly intervals and I’d throw the most trivial questions. I must have adhered to every “How Not To” in the book, starting with clinging on to draws as textbook truth and obsessing over intangible outcomes. I approached the practice like a Magic 8-Ball or plucking petals from a daisy. At the time, I couldn’t blame my circle for eventually keeping me at arm’s length. At some point, I had to face the monkeys alone. I learned the hard way.

Skill Unlocked

On the upside, the frequency of those sessions enhanced my knowledge. The more readings I had, the more familiar I became with each card and how every combination of which conveys a message. My learning accelerated when my aunt gave me my first deck, a laminated Rider Waite reprint, as her early Christmas present. “You too have the gift, you know”, I remember her saying. And just like that, I gradually became a reader myself.

Not long after, I stumbled upon John and Caitlin Matthews’ The Steampunk Tarot in a bookstore. Much as I only went there to window-shop, I knew I couldn’t leave the store without it. It became my go-to deck since, to the point I nicknamed it “Kuya” because of its stern but caring takes.

My workmates were among my initial clientele. When a former teammate burst into tears mid-Celtic Cross, that’s when I realized, it was no longer merely casual. As her final card turned out to be negative, I placed my hand on her shoulder as her sobbing lingered, with hopes of softening the blow.

It was a simple breakthrough. I had elicited an emotional reaction for the first time. That’s when it dawned on me, that after months of near-pestering my go-to readers for instant comfort, it was time to give back. A more amusing development was when a floor-mate approached my cubicle one early morning to introduce herself: “Chuckie, right? I’m <name withheld> from Finance. They say you read cards?” “Uhm, let’s meet over lunch?”, I replied.

When said guy severed ties with me in Summer 2014, the practice helped me pick up the pieces. I guess it was how I invited healing energy, by honing my new-found skill.

In 2015, I started the daily ritual of drawing one card each day, which I’ve expanded to three cards since 2016. More than a daily forecast, it’s a personal journaling activity to gauge how each day synchronizes the drawn cards’ message. I haven’t missed a single day since.   

Word of Mouth

Come to think of it, I never identified as psychic. I neither have mutant telepathy like Professor X or Jean Grey nor do I get visions a la That’s So Raven or Charmed‘s Phoebe Halliwell. I did, however, embrace the values of discerning good energy from bad and listening to my intuition. That’s all there is to it, as peers would attest. Simply pay attention to what you initially feel about a person or situation and listen (if not act upon it). It became my guiding principle then and it still is now.

I guess what helped curb the impostor syndrome was the volume of repeat clients. Top of that list is Mom, who’s clearly the reason my prowess sharpened. See, it requires an enhanced level of descriptive and story-telling ability when you conduct a session for a lawyer. And I sure was glad I’d outed myself to her already at that point. With tarot now part of the equation, our communication lines became more open than ever.

Friends would seek follow-up sessions from time and time, not because of the readings turning out true (again, not the point), but because of the insights they gained from the conversations. It’s our actions that ultimately determine our direction, after all, not images on printed cardboard. The cards simply yield messages.  

Eventually, my regulars also introduced me to their respective circles, which, in effect, broadened my network. Before I knew it, I had inadvertently and unofficially established a club-of-sorts, with friends who are either long-practicing readers or have become readers themselves.

I’ve lost track of the number of decks I’ve amassed. Some were additional purchases, while many others were either hand-me-downs or gifts from friends. Kuya, however, continues to be the “team leader”. Such was my frequency of use that I’ve owned three copies of the deck. Now that I’ve decided to use a different deck every month, here’s hoping the fourth copy doesn’t wear out fast.

Expansion

I never intended to go professional. At first, it was more a way for me to meet kindred spirits, and, with luck, forge lasting and meaningful bonds. But what started as a clandestine hobby escalated as years progressed. The more sessions I conducted, the more “energy exchanges” (AKA fees) became mandatory. I also became more conscious of both the energy I gave out and, conversely, received.

Before I knew it, the practice helped with our monthly bills. It came in handy when I languished between regular jobs in 2016 and, again, more recently, when the pandemic struck. And much as the preferred set-up was to face the client, the restrictions forced me to devise virtual methods. As a result, access was made a lot easier, and logistics became a non-issue.

By mid-2021, it had become a full-blown weekly routine. That, however, came to a pause after my surgery later that year. More so, when I returned to work at the turn of 2022. The hiatus, however, wouldn’t last long. By mid-year, I started receiving inquiries again. I was compelled to resume sessions; erratic schedule be damned.

The biggest break came in 2023, when I did a weekly radio segment. It was a rewarding stint, up until the show’s sudden cancellation in October 2023. Somehow, I did manage to parlay that role into a one-time booth stint. Moreover, it indirectly paved the way for my second consultancy.

Past the First Decade

One year after my 10th anniversary as reader, Juno passed away. And there’s a compelling symbolism in “inheriting” the last deck he used on me – an Adventure Time-themed portable reprint, which summed up his own sense of whimsy. Every time I use it, it still feels like having him around. And it’s a timely addition, as I learn new approaches.

Looking back, it’s still a lot to process, how my once-open secret overtook my childhood dreams and became the thing that’d give me a break. It’s the very premise of The Fool card at work. Sometimes, you just disregard the risks, ignore the barking naysayers, and surge ahead, because that’s where the thrill begins.

And it’s true. Sometimes, you must endure the worst version of yourself to appreciate who’ll emerge after. And I can boldly say, I do like myself better now – much as there’s still a ton of work to be done. It’s a reassuring thought, as I start navigating my forties.