From Fearful to Flourishing
My path to divination has been long, winding, and full of false starts. Raised Southern Baptist with a touch of Pentecostal influence, I was taught from an early age that fortune-telling was dangerous—evil, even. Still, the mystery of it beckoned.
When I was eight or nine, I begged for a Magic 8 Ball, and to my surprise, my father agreed. Fevered shouts of apoplectic, crimson-faced preachers looming over me from pulpits echoed in my ears, and the fear—and the possibility—of knowing the future was too heavy a burden for my young shoulders. I hid the toy away in a drawer until my parents eventually sold it at a yard sale for a quarter.
Even in young adulthood, I still felt the pull of magic, mysticism, and spirituality. I wanted to discover some hidden power within myself that would change my circumstances. Yet, fear again won out over fascination, and left me frozen with indecision. Was it wrong to want this? How could it be wrong when even the Almighty Himself bestowed the gift of prophecy on some?
Life carried on—I built a family, explored my spirituality, and became captivated by tarot. I had heard the old myth that your first deck must be gifted, and in my quiet, private interest, no such gift ever came. Daily survival—feeding schedules, school projects, helping choose outfits for middle school dances, graduations, a divorce, and subsequent single motherhood—kept me rooted firmly in the present.
It wasn’t until the Pandemic that I decided to give divination a try and claim my own inner power. I finally bought my first tarot deck. But then, I encountered another roadblock: 78 meanings to memorize, plus reversals? It felt insurmountable to my perpetually overwhelmed, 40-something brain. I admired the imagery but soon set the cards aside.
I came to learn about Lenormand via podcast while working my day job in a file room in Southwest Virginia, a far cry from the parlors in Europe where it was created. A divination system with 36 cards and no reversals sounded more feasible to me. While there’s much more to Lenormand than I originally thought, what was meant to be a stepping stone to tarot quickly became a love affair.
Placed in advanced English classes from an early age, I had always been drawn to storytelling, and Lenormand was exactly that—a language of archetypes, where meanings shifted based on the surrounding cards and the question asked. Once I learned to read their messages, their accuracy astounded me. They foretold job interview outcomes, the course of illnesses, even the rise and fall of my last relationship—months before I had even created a profile on a dating app. Unexpectedly, the cards have also helped me cope with anxiety. If I’m feeling anxious about an event, I’ll pull cards on it. Even if the outcome isn’t ideal, I feel prepared to face whatever comes.
We all have choices. My role isn’t to judge but to illuminate the path before you, offering clarity and discretion. If you've ever felt drawn to divination but uncertain where to begin, I understand. I’ve been there. If you've ever wondered if the cards have a message for you, all you have to do is ask.
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