Ace of Pentacles, Seven of Swords, Seven of Pentacles, Three of Swords & Page of Wands.
Well, well, well. Would you look at that?
Another day, another tarot reading reminding me that personal growth is not always a graceful, aesthetically pleasing experience. Sometimes it's exciting, sometimes it's uncomfortable, and sometimes it feels like the universe is handing me my own ass with a pretty little bow on top.
But hey, that's why we're here, right?
I've been feeling a shift lately. A growing curiosity about what's next, a desire to learn more, create more, and actually put some of these ideas I've been nurturing into motion.
So naturally, I sat down with my cards to have a little conversation with myself.
And what a conversation it was.
Ace of Pentacles — What Do I Have to Look Forward To?
Ahhh, a breath of fresh air.
The Ace of Pentacles is one of those cards that makes me want to sit up a little straighter. Aces represent beginnings, opportunities, and raw potential. Pentacles belong to the element of Earth, governing our physical world: resources, finances, health, work, stability, and the things we build with our own two hands.
This isn't necessarily the universe dropping a bag of money on my doorstep. Although, respectfully, I wouldn't complain.
It's about recognizing an opportunity to create something tangible.
A seed of potential.
And here's the thing about seeds: they don't grow simply because we admire them. They require attention, patience, consistency, and a willingness to get our hands dirty.
I've been feeling the possibility of new beginnings for a while now. Not necessarily because something dramatic has happened, but because I've been changing how I show up for myself.
My priorities are shifting. My relationship with my time, energy, and resources is evolving.
Perhaps the opportunity isn't something entirely new arriving in my life.
Perhaps it's finally recognizing the potential in what I've already begun.
Seven of Swords — What's Helping Me?
Okay, this one had me scratching my head.
The Seven of Swords? Helping me?
Excuse me, sir. Aren't you supposed to be the sneaky one?
Traditionally, this card carries themes of deception, secrecy, avoidance, and strategic behavior. It's often associated with someone trying to get away with something.
But tarot is beautifully nuanced, and I don't believe every card needs to be interpreted through its most dramatic personality trait.
Sometimes the Seven of Swords is about discernment.
Knowing when to speak and when to listen. Understanding that not every idea needs an audience, not every plan needs an announcement, and not every opinion deserves influence over our decisions.
There is wisdom in moving intentionally.
I'm learning that discernment is not the same as distrust. It's the ability to recognize what deserves my attention, what aligns with my values, and what might simply be a distraction dressed up as an opportunity.
And perhaps, more importantly, this card has me questioning the stories I tell myself.
Am I being strategic, or am I avoiding something because I'm afraid?
Am I protecting my peace, or am I hiding behind the comfort of familiarity?
Because sometimes the sneakiest person in the room is the little voice in our own head convincing us that we're not quite ready.
Rude, honestly.
Seven of Pentacles — A Little Clarification, Please
Because the Seven of Swords had me questioning things, I pulled a clarifying card.
Seven of Pentacles.
Now we're talking.
This card represents patience, investment, evaluation, and the long-term rewards of consistent effort.
It's the gardener standing back, looking at everything they've planted, wondering whether the harvest will be worth the work.
And goodness, can I relate.
I've spent a lot of time planting seeds. Learning, creating, rebuilding, reflecting, experimenting, and investing in the person I'm becoming.
Some things have grown beautifully. Others have taken their sweet time. A few probably needed to be composted a long time ago.
But that's life.
What stood out to me was the relationship between these two sevens.
The Seven of Swords asks me to be discerning about where my energy goes. The Seven of Pentacles asks me to recognize where my energy has already gone.
Together, they remind me that discernment isn't just knowing what to walk away from. It's also knowing what's worth continuing to nurture.
Not everything needs to be uprooted simply because it hasn't blossomed yet.
And not everything deserves another season of watering.
There's a difference between patience and stubbornly investing in something that no longer grows.
I'm learning to recognize that difference.
And perhaps it's time I start believing a little more in the things I've been cultivating.
Three of Swords — What Else Do I Have to Look Forward To?
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Really?
The Three of Swords?
After all that lovely talk about new beginnings and blossoming potential, here comes this little rain cloud with three swords through a heart.
How charming.
Traditionally, the Three of Swords represents heartbreak, grief, disappointment, painful truths, and emotional separation.
But I want to challenge the idea that this card must represent something terrible waiting around the corner.
What if it represents the courage to make a difficult choice?
What if the discomfort comes from finally acknowledging something I've been avoiding?
What if the heartbreak isn't about someone breaking my heart, but about letting go of an idea, an expectation, or a version of life I once believed I needed?
That's an entirely different conversation.
The Three of Swords belongs to the element of Air, which governs our thoughts, communication, beliefs, and perception.
Sometimes our greatest discomfort comes from the stories we've attached ourselves to.
And sometimes the truth hurts because it asks us to change.
I've experienced enough life to understand that avoiding discomfort doesn't necessarily prevent pain. Sometimes it just prolongs the inevitable.
But here's where my perspective has changed.
I'd rather experience the discomfort of making a conscious choice than remain somewhere simply because I'm afraid of what happens next.
There is something incredibly empowering about recognizing that I have options.
Even when none of them are particularly comfortable.
Having a choice means I have agency. I can respond, redirect, and take responsibility for the direction of my life.
And perhaps that's what this card is inviting me to explore.
Not heartbreak as punishment.
But truth as an opportunity for liberation.
Because sometimes growth requires us to disappoint an older version of ourselves.
And that's okay.
She got me here. I can thank her without letting her drive forever.
Page of Wands — The Outcome
AND WOULD YOU LOOK AT THIS LITTLE FIRECRACKER!
After all that mental gymnastics, emotional excavation, and existential gardening, here comes the Page of Wands.
Curious. Enthusiastic. Adventurous. Slightly inexperienced.
Absolutely ready to give it a go anyway.
I love the Pages in tarot.
They represent the student, the messenger, the beginner, and the part of ourselves willing to approach life with fresh eyes.
The Page of Wands belongs to the element of Fire, representing creativity, passion, inspiration, courage, and exploration.
Unlike the Kings and Queens, who have developed a greater sense of mastery over their element, the Pages are still learning.
And that's precisely what makes them so wonderful.
They haven't convinced themselves they need to know everything before beginning.
They are willing to experiment.
To ask questions.
To make mistakes.
To throw some paint at the wall and see what sticks.
And frankly, I think I could use a little more of that energy.
I've been feeling increasingly drawn toward learning new things, expanding my knowledge, developing my skills, and exploring opportunities that genuinely excite me.
But somewhere along the way, adulthood has a funny way of convincing us that we should already know what we're doing.
That we should have a perfect plan.
That we should be good at something before we even begin.
What a ridiculous expectation.
Imagine telling a child they shouldn't pick up a paintbrush because they haven't mastered painting yet.
We'd never do that.
Yet we place those expectations on ourselves constantly.
The Page of Wands reminds me that curiosity is a perfectly valid reason to begin.
I don't need to be an expert to explore something new.
I don't need to guarantee success before making an attempt.
And I certainly don't need to let self-doubt become the project manager of my life.
Sometimes the most intelligent thing we can do is allow ourselves to be beginners again.
The Bigger Picture — Stop Getting in Your Own Damn Way
Looking at this spread as a whole, I see a fascinating conversation between potential, discernment, patience, discomfort, and curiosity.
The Ace of Pentacles reminds me that opportunities require participation.
The Seven of Swords asks me to be mindful of the narratives influencing my decisions.
The Seven of Pentacles reminds me to trust the work I've already invested while honestly evaluating what deserves more of my energy.
The Three of Swords challenges me to stop interpreting every difficult decision as a loss.
And the Page of Wands?
Well, that little rascal is standing there with a paintbrush, ready to make a beautiful mess.
And I think that's exactly the energy I want to carry forward.
I'm not interested in waiting until every uncertainty disappears before participating in my own life.
I want to learn. I want to experiment. I want to develop new skills and discover what I'm capable of.
I want to give the things I've been nurturing a genuine opportunity to blossom.
And I want to trust myself enough to recognize when something needs more patience and when something needs to be released.
Because the Seven of Swords and Three of Swords have reminded me of something important:
Self-doubt can disguise itself as wisdom, and fear can disguise itself as practicality.
Not every hesitation is intuition.
Sometimes it's simply the discomfort of being inexperienced.
And while discernment is valuable, I don't want to become so cautious that I talk myself out of living.
I can make thoughtful decisions and still take risks.
I can acknowledge disappointment without allowing it to define my future.
I can be both a student and a capable woman.
I can have absolutely no idea how something will turn out and still be excited to begin.
Maybe that's the real lesson here.
Growth doesn't always require a grand revelation or a perfectly mapped-out destination.
Sometimes it requires the humility to admit we have more to learn, the courage to make uncomfortable choices, and the willingness to keep showing up for the things that matter.
So here's to the seeds I've planted, the lessons I've learned, and the adventures I haven't even imagined yet.
I'm going to keep watering what deserves to grow, stop negotiating with unnecessary self-doubt, and start throwing a little more paint at the wall.
After all, how am I supposed to discover what I'm capable of if I never give myself permission to try?
A Little Something to Reflect On
If you've been feeling the pull toward something new, perhaps these questions are worth sitting with:
What have I been nurturing that deserves more of my trust and attention?
Where am I practicing discernment, and where might I be allowing fear to make my decisions?
What uncomfortable truth could actually give me more freedom?
What would I explore if I gave myself permission to be a beginner?
Tarot isn't here to make our decisions for us. It's an invitation to examine the stories we're living, the choices we're making, and the possibilities we may be overlooking.
The cards are a mirror, not a crystal ball.
And sometimes that mirror reminds us that we're a whole lot more capable than we've been giving ourselves credit for.
With curiosity, courage, and a little creative chaos,
-Gillian J
