One of my favorite writers on Substack is Caroline Donofrio, whose Between a Rock and a Card Place offers gorgeous weekly letters on “seeking the magic in the mundane.” Though she’s currently on a pause, Caroline’s luminous Sunday evening dispatches probe the marrow of being human, and her words always hit just right.
The weekly letters include a tarot reading, a fruit of Caroline’s longstanding practice of the discipline. She considers the cards to be a pathway for reflection and self-understanding rather than a tool for divination. Her readings carry her understanding of the tarot alongside the beauty of her words, and I always experience them as a balm to soothe my spirit before beginning another week, which—let’s be honest— is a bit of a Herculean feat these days, to say the least.
About tarot: I’ve been interested in it for a while. A couple of years ago, I purchased a (Rider-Waite) deck and embarked on a bit of self-study. The curiosity I feel is rooted in a longer-standing interest that I’ve always had in the supernatural: astrology, numerology, horoscopes and the like.
I suppose it’s in my genes: the Hindu faith in which I grew up is rooted in these realms. It’s not that I consider any of it to be gospel, far from it in fact. But as an inherently curious person, I appreciate the insight and the connection to the universal. From that perspective, tarot is fascinating.
The truth is, I’m on an endless quest to know myself. Staring down 47 years on this planet, I’ve come to understand that the quest is a lifelong one. And for that, I’m grateful.
So when Caroline offered individual tarot readings to her subscribers, I couldn’t sign up fast enough! We had a lovely conversation around three weeks ago, during which she pulled the cards pictured above. In essence:
the Queen of Cups represents the Past
the Queen of Wands represents the Present and
the Five of Wands represents the Future, with
the Hanged Man and the Fool as clarifiers.
Um…what?
You might be wondering what the hell any of this means and why I’m writing about it.
Caroline gave me her interpretation. She alluded to a lot of passion and to an ongoing internal conversation about how to express and prioritize different passions.
Her words intrigued me, but truth be told, I’ve been sitting with them ever since.
I’ve admittedly been a little distracted. In spite of the chaos around us, Washington is putting on its usual April show. The canopy surrounding my apartment etches in more green by the day. Tulips are popping out in plentiful showers, and just the other day I encountered some azaleas erupting in fuchsia. It’s a special time, in spite of the madness in our midst.
In revisiting Caroline’s reading now though, it’s occurring to me – there just may be some universal lessons here.
Because at its core, the reading is about how to live a life in alignment with one’s truest and fullest self. And that, I suspect, is something that we’re all seeking while on this journey of being a human.
Towards a destination
Representing the past, the Queen of Cups personifies care and compassion, sensitivity to others’ feelings and intuition. The Cups overall is the suit of emotion, movement and flow, and this card evokes feminine, powerful, grounded energy. Caroline suggested something that was once a tremendous focus or a path that I was on without questioning.
I had been puzzling over what this means, because my life path has been admittedly untraditional, in most respects. That’s of course a relative concept, but let’s just say that I’ve veered pretty far and wide. Grounded is not a place I know too well.
But the other day when I was doing some spring cleaning, I came across some of my old elementary school relics, which my mom had saved and handed off to me during my last visit. I found records from each grade, noting what I wanted to be “when I grew up” (at various points, I’d selected school teacher, swim teacher, model, movie/TV star, airline attendant and doctor – writer was not an option) and my awards and achievements.
From high school, there were newspaper clippings about scholarships I’d won. Mementos from speech & debate tournaments (a subject for another day surely) and writing contests in which I’d excelled. As I’ve shared before, I was that kind of kid. An overachiever. Eldest daughter, first-generation and all the things. The records prove it loud and clear. They also note a goal of working for the United Nations, which I eventually did.
So a path? Oh, I was on it all right. In honesty, it was only a couple of years ago—really when I launched this newsletter—that I even considered the possibility of a different one.
And on that note, I’m learning that I’m not alone. Though everyone’s timeline is different, we generally spend our 20s and 30s in pursuit – of a partner, a family, a career, an idea of who we’re supposed to be. It goes without saying that our varied resources, identities and cultures define our particular contours, but it seems to me that most of us spend our first four decades building towards a particular destination. An arrival point. I certainly did.
But what if you run into a detour? A fork in the road? Or what if your GPS fails?
The era of possibility
Caroline then drew the Queen of Wands in the present position. A departure from what was before, it suggests a very different sense of person or personality. As you can see, it’s marked by little shoots, representing a sense of growth and possibility.
I can relate.
When words started flowing out of me in August of 2022 and I launched this newsletter, I remember feeling like I was the conduit of a literal forcefield. It felt like something bigger than me. After a lifetime of ignoring or minimizing my creative impulses, they came out of the woodwork and took over.
Elizabeth Gilbert writes about this phenomenon in Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear:
“I am referring to the supernatural, the mystical, the inexplicable, the surreal, the divine, the transcendent, the otherworldly. Because the truth is, I believe that creativity is a force of enchantment—not entirely human in its origins.”
Whatever it is, I’m still in the throes. And as Caroline pointed out in drawing my attention to the card’s image of a blooming sunflower, it would appear that something golden is on the horizon.
These days, that definitely resonates. The heart and soul gathering that I’m organizing in Treasure Beach, Jamaica in May—Nature, Nurture, Nourish—is coming along beautifully, and I’m so proud to share that we managed to not only sell out but exceed our target number of guests. I can’t wait to see how it will unfold and to share more on this in the weeks to come. If you’d like to follow our adventures and be informed of future retreats, please follow our Instagram page.
On the writing front, there are lots of little green shoots. A few days ago, I ranked at #90 in the Literature category on Substack in reflection of some recent growth and engagement on the platform, and while the numbers aren’t my motivating factor here, I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t excited about this milestone.
As shared last week, I’m also working on a haiku project as part of National Poetry Month. Until the end of April, I continue to welcome “submissions” of words and images, in response to which I’m writing personalized haikus and compiling into an e-chapbook (to be published soon!). The practice of penning these short poems has been pure delight, allowing me to write about everything from wanderlust and velvet to shadow and surprise.
So yes, it’s a season of creative alchemy and forward movement. One rich in possibility, which as you might recall is in fact my word of the year for 2025.
Here’s the thing: I know I’m not sitting in this place by myself.
Perhaps you too have shifted gears or encountered a plot twist. Maybe you’ve also tapped into long dormant dreams or come to new realizations about yourself. Or at the very least, an inkling that there’s something more to the story. The possibility of a new one, perhaps.
Where do we go from here?
In looking to the future, Caroline drew the Five of Wands. In the tarot, the simplistic interpretation of this card suggests conflict or different forces jostling with each other. Caroline referred to the Disney Pixar film Inside Out (one of my favorites), in which the protagonist Riley must learn how to handle the different emotions that one navigates as part of growing up.
This also resonates. Because after all, so much of the human journey is about how to make space for the different parts of ourselves.
It’s admittedly a challenge for me. I struggle to honor the path I’ve been on and the very real responsibilities of a mother and head of household alongside the unfolding of my creative self, which sometimes feels like a dam whose levees have broken. Not to mention all the other gears in motion.
But then, I recall the ethos behind this publication and the concept of assemblage. Putting the puzzle pieces together. Tying the threads, even if the knots are imperfect. Embracing the fullness of ourselves. Navigating the highs and lows. It reminds me of a line from Sandwich by Catherine Newman:
“The world is achingly beautiful. I am fifty-four years old, and I know better, finally, than to think you have to pick. That you even could. It’s just everything, all the time.”
I don’t necessarily know how to do it. Put (and keep) the thing together, I mean. Does anyone? I would guess not, at least not in a way that’s sustained or static. But Caroline reminded me that within ourselves, we’re equipped with everything we need to figure out the path forward.
The clarifying cards of the Hanged Man and the Fool are interesting here. The Hanged Man, on the one hand, evokes a holding pattern. It reminds us that sometimes, we need to pause, slow down, observe and consider a different perspective. Whereas the Fool is carefree, moving with purpose and guided by instinct.
Perhaps it’s true what they say: to everything, there is a season. The quest for self-knowledge is likely about honoring the ebb and flow and the disparate forces that reside within us, seeing them not as contradictions but as part of a coherent and layered whole.
There’s no roadmap for this. As Suleika Jaouad wrote in her gorgeous memoir Between Two Kingdoms:
“There is no atlas charting that lonely, moonless stretch of highway between where you start and who you become.”
But what I’m learning—and what the cards suggest—is that it’s OK. Like all of us, I’m navigating it one day, one word and one road at a time. This is the work and the journey, and what a ride it is.
I have 2 decks, the Waite and the Crowley (which kind of scares me--being from Crowley). I used to do a reading for myself often, but I have put the cards aside for a while. They are so so accurate, sometimes it was too much. But maybe it's time to break them out again.
Keep going. :-)