My tarot spread put the three of swords in the “me” position. I’m so afraid of this card that I’ve actually reshuffled, pretending that my spread was biased in some way, so I wouldn’t have to see it. I’ve told myself, “I’ll never be able to accurately read these cards with the three of swords staring at me like that.”
This time, my hand hovering over the card illustrating a big red heart, pierced and cracked, next to a scraggly black tree and a girl screaming in horror (my deck is a little dramatic), I decided to go with it.
I don’t know what this week will bring, but I saw this card as telling me that I will not move into my next stage without grief, old or new. It’s a necessary aspect of life that I always try to skip, but now I’m here, waiting for it.