A Foundation I Didn’t Know I Was Building

I pulled two cards the other day, asking what I most needed to know right now. They seemed to contradict each other. The first was Desolation. The second, The Star.

At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of that pairing, but then I realized it perfectly mirrors the threshold I’m crossing.

Card 35, Desolation, may reflect my recognition that it was time to leave Israel. I had the chance to go a few years ago, but the thought of giving up on making a life there made me cry. I stayed. I struggled. I nearly didn’t make it through. After surviving a "dark night of the soul," I managed to pull myself together, but eventually, the signs became too clear to ignore. It was time to go.

Now I’ve been back in the United States for ten days. Despite the difficulties I anticipate lie ahead of me, I feel something stirring again, something I didn’t expect to find so soon: hope. That soft flame links directly to the second card I pulled, card 17, The Star. I sense that I’ve come back stronger, with a clearer view of the world. I’m more confident than I used to be. Less afraid of people. Less afraid of life.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira connects Desolation with the Rider-Waite-Smith Nine of Wands, a figure who’s survived battles and still stands strong. My own keywords for the Nine of Wands are: stamina, prepared, firmly established, knowing whom to trust. That rings true. I’ve landed in a place where people care about me and have already done so much to help me begin again.

My keywords for The Star are gentler: hope, gratitude, clarity, grace, finding joy in the present, healing, inspiration, guiding others. It’s astonishing that hope is still part of my vocabulary, but it is.

Visually, the card Desolation shows a woman mourning. Her blue and white dress and bowed posture mirror the figure in card 67, Veneration. She covers her eyes with one hand while reaching forward with the other. Kaplan says she is mourning the death of her husband. In the upper part of the cartouche are the hieroglyph for “gate” and the Hebrew letter peh (פ). Saturn, the planet of boundaries and discipline, marks the title field. Below is the Eye of Horus, symbol of protection, vision, and renewal.

The gate may symbolize a threshold between what was and what could be. The letter peh, meaning “mouth,” suggests speaking one's truth after recognizing it through silence and sorrow. And Saturn, the planet of time, limits, and maturity, indicates growth through discipline and endurance.

The lower part of the cartouche shows the Eye of Horus, symbol of protection, vision, and renewal.

The Star includes some of the same symbols: the gate, peh, and Saturn. But the feeling is entirely different. The woman in this image is naked, kneeling on calm waters. Her black wig echoes the mourning figure in Desolation, but her posture is more open; she is vulnerable, yet grounded. (For me, water is grounding. Even sitting beside a quiet swimming pool can calm my emotions and clear my thoughts. Life began in water—being near it returns us to our source.) She pours water from two small vessels into the pool beneath her. Behind her, the waters are rough; before her, they are still.

In 17 The Star, the gate hieroglyph does not suggeste grief, but possibility. Peh becomes not the silence of sorrow but the beginning of authentic speech. And Saturn is not just a burden, but a guide, marking the slow, steady path of hope earned through experience.

An eight-pointed star glows above, perhaps Sirius, whose heliacal rising signaled the flooding of the Nile and the renewal of life. In the lower cartouche, a diamond half-yellow and half-black evokes harmony, wholeness, and the balance of opposites—like Yin and Yang or the Star of David.

Both women suggest ritual. Both suggest devotion. But one mourns what has passed, while the other opens herself to what may come.

In Kaplan’s brief descriptions, the contrast sharpens:

• Desolation: ruin, pain, sadness, mental anguish, disappointment, sorrow.
• The Star: hope, faith, inspiration, insight, bright prospects, fulfillment, and the balance of hope with effort.

Together, these two cards seem to say: one way of life is ending, and a gate is opening to the unfolding of something new.

Being back in the U.S., I find myself in a familiar environment where I speak the language, understand the social cues, and don’t have to constantly prove that I belong. That competence alone has given me a quiet confidence I haven’t felt in many years.

I once thought that leaving Israel would make me want to become more observant again-- that, like many Jews in the diaspora, I would feel the need to cling more tightly to ritual and practice in order to stay connected. But that hasn’t happened. Perhaps it’s because something in me has changed. I no longer feel that need because I’ve already absorbed an Israeli sense of what it means to be Jewish, something lived, something internal, something not measured by observance alone. It’s as though I’ve carried the Land with me, and now I’m learning how to stand on that foundation in a new way.

I hadn’t realized I was building a foundation during those difficult years, but somehow, I was. And now it remains steady beneath my feet. I left the Land, but I didn’t leave behind what I learned there.

I don’t need to return to strict observance to feel connected. My Jewishness a deeper part of me now, the people, the rhythm, the struggle to stay human in a harsh world. And something else, too: faith.

Not always religious, but real. 

Since October 7, I’ve seen secular Israelis carry themselves and each other with quiet spiritual courage, a trust in life, in God, in community, and in the meaning of what they endure. That kind of faith has left its mark on me.

It’s what gives shape to my voice now. Like the Hebrew letter peh, I’m learning to speak again, not just with words, but with the way I live, love, and return to myself.

This isn’t exile. It’s integration.

What the Seven of Swords Really Means

Most people see a sneaky thief. I see a smart tactician.

In Pamela Colman Smith’s image, the Seven of Swords shows a performer dancing across a stage while holding the blades of five swords  with the backdrop of an armed camp, On the stage's backdrop, two more swords stand upright in the ground in front of a row of colorful tents; a group of soldiers is gathered around a smoking campfire. The man's self-satisfied smile is striking. For many readers, this card screams deception: theft, betrayal, lies, cowardice. It’s often seen as the card of someone cheating to get ahead.

But what look again. What more does it mean?

This man could be disarming a dangerous enemy that threatens a community. He’s taking the weapons that might be used against them and leaving quietly before anyone notices. There’s no bloodshed, no confrontation, just good strategy. His mission is risky. He holds the blades with his bare hands and risks hurting himself. He isn't unethical; he hasn't left them defenseless. The two swords he has left behind are a message: We were here. We are a dangerous adversary. Think twice before tangling with us.

Key Words (Light Side):

• Disarming the enemy
• Stealth
• Clever plan
• Reclaiming what was stolen
• Strategy
• Hidden motives

Key Words (Shadow Side):

• Betrayal of self
• Self-deception
• Isolation
• Avoiding confrontation
• Impulsiveness
• Overconfidence

What the card really means:
This is the card of unconventional strategy and victory. Direct conflict isn't always the best way to achieve goals, in peace or in wartime. The Seven of Swords doesn’t ask us to deceive anyone; it challenges us to think clearly and outmaneuver what threatens us.

When this card appears, consider alternate ways to respond to danger. Let the enemy worry what might be next if they mess with you.

I don't believe there is a single "real" meaning for any card, but I enjoy finding new interpretations. Do you have a unique take on any of the cards? Please share your insights below! I love hearing from my readers.

What the Two of Pentacles Really Means

It’s Not About Balance—It’s About Avoidance

Most contemporary writers interpret the Two of Pentacles as a sign of balance, adaptability, grace under pressure, and the ability to juggle life’s many demands. It’s often seen as a card that applauds your flexibility and suggests you can handle whatever life throws your way. This leads some readers to say: Don't worry, you've got this.

But what else could it mean?

In the Rider-Waite-Smith deck, a playful figure dances while juggling two pentacles inside a lemniscate. Two ships sail smoothly and safely over incredibly high waves of a rough sea.

From that perspective, the card becomes a kind of “don’t worry, you’ve got this” message.

Take a closer look at the figure's garments. He wears a bright red hat that’s not quite a dunce cap, but certainly reminiscent of one. His clothing is oddly theatrical, almost like part of a costume. Some readers have suggested he’s standing on a stage, playing a role.

The lemniscate also appears above the head of The Magician—a figure associated with both making dreams come true and with deception.

The card may suggest a period of multitasking where everything is still under control. However, you should ask if he is really in control, or simply trying to look like he is. This fool's performance may be his way of ignoring a precarious situation, or even trying to deceive others into thinking he’s more balanced than he really is.

Before we go further, here are the keywords I associate with this card:

Keywords (Light Side)

• Adaptability
• Grace under pressure
• Flexibility in fluctuating circumstances
• Multitasking
• Managing demands
• Finding harmony or your divine path
• Trying to make dreams come true

Keywords (Shadow Side)

• Disorganization
• Unclear goals
• Trying to balance too many things
• Delaying decisions
  
• Chaos
• Poor time management
• Splitting your energy
  

These light side keywords reflect the best-case scenario: someone who stays "nimble and quick" under pressure and navigates competing demands with flexibility and poise. Dedication and adaptability can help you achieve your goals, but you must know what your goals are.

In my experience, the Two of Pentacles often appears when balancing act is already faltering. You’re walking a tightrope, and it’s beginning to sway. One misstep, and everything could fall.

This is the card of conflicting goals and lack of commitment to a clear goal. It often shows up when someone is trying to serve two masters or maintain appearances while everything is unraveling beneath the surface.

It says: You’re not really choosing.

Even upright, the card can suggest that things aren't working particularly well. If you don’t make a firm commitment soon, everything could fall apart. Reversed, the danger becomes obvious: chaos, confusion, failure, and burnout.

What the card really means:

The Two of Pentacles often appears not because someone is skillfully balancing, but because they’re avoiding a difficult decision.

This card isn’t just about doing too much; it’s about refusing to let something go. You might be clinging to two different goals or two versions of yourself, while quietly hoping that someone else will come along and reveal your divinely ordained direction. But not all dreams are meant to be pursued at the same time. Some must be sacrificed so that others can flourish. And no one else—not your partner, not your mentor, not your tarot reader—can pinpoint your path for you.

That’s why I read this card as a wake-up call: Stop performing. Start choosing.

I don't believe there is a single "real" meaning for any card, but I enjoy finding new interpretations. Do you have a unique take on any of the cards? Please share your insights below! I love hearing from my readers.

The Road Given: A Reflection on the Knight of Pentacles

One of my favorite blogs is Leaf and Twig. The artist recently posted a photograph of a broad, snow-covered path through sparse woods, accompanied by a caption that struck me deeply:

the road given
is the road
that must be traveled

This short poem suggests that the path we're on, however dull, unpleasant, painful, or unexpected, is the one we must walk. There are a number of ways of looking at it:

Simple fact - we can address what is before us or curl up and do nothing
Initiation - some experiences are unavoidable and essential for growth
Surrender and trust - we didn’t choose the path, accepting it will be healing
Destiny or karma - what has been handed to us isn’t random
Radical acceptance - there is no point in wishing we could be elsewhere

There’s ambiguity in the word “must.” Is it a burden to endure or a sacred duty to embrace? Either way, the message is clear: stop wishing for another life and step fully into this one. The road before you is the one you're responsible for.

I'd like to remember this poem and bring its message into my tarot practice. What cards might reflect this vision of walking the road given?

Cards that reflect avoidance or escapism:

The Moon - illusion, confusion, refusing to see what’s real
the Seven of Cups - fantasy, imagining alternates instead of inhabiting your life
the Queen of Cups - not seeing reality, daydreaming instead of acting

Cards that suggest reluctant acceptance:

The Hanged Man - stuck or suspended, forced to see life from a new angle
the Five of Cups - grief, focusing on loss, failing to value what remains
the Queen of Pentacles - accepting limitations for now, giving more than you receive

Cards that show determination to walk the path:

The Fool - the journey of life, stepping into the unknown, the road opening ahead
The Hermit - walking with wisdom, seeking truth, becoming a guide to others
The Chariot - focused, resolved, determined to continue despite obstacles
the Eight of Cups - courage to step into the unknown
the Ten of Wands - the burden of responsibility, but also commitment to completing the task

And the card that may be most aligned with the poem:

The Knight of Pentacles - steady, grounded, and quietly resolute. Unlike the archetypal hero of The Chariot, he’s an ordinary person: a farmer who earns his living from the earth. Armored not for war but for labor, he surveys his fields and plans his work. He has already begun turning the soil, relying on the weather and the seasons to contribute to the harvest. His path may not be glamorous, but he is faithful. And through that faithfulness he gives shape and meaning to his life. 

 
The cards above are from The Robin Wood Tarot, the Universal Tarot (PCS), and the Oneness Tarot.

(And since I'm posting about my favorite 'blog, here is a link to an episode from my favorite YouTube channel: Jen That Good News Girl.)