The biggest mistake people make, seriously, is thinking a reading is just a reading. Like, you see the cards, you get the message, done. Doesn’t matter if it’s on an app, a video call, or if some reader is sitting right across from you, shuffling a deck you can practically smell. That’s crap. It took me a long time and some really messed up life decisions to figure this out, because when I started out, I was a speed reader. I wanted the quick hit.
The Online Fast Food Trap
You know how it is. You’ve got something big hanging over your head—a new job offer, a relationship that suddenly went quiet, that weird pain in your back. You can’t sleep. It’s 3 AM. You’re not going to call a reader, right? You pull up one of those slick apps or you hit up a psychic on Instagram who promises a 24-hour turnaround for thirty bucks. That’s what I did. I was addicted to the instant answer.
I distinctly remember one time I was absolutely freaking out about this girl. We’d been seeing each other for a few months, and suddenly, the texts were dropping off. My brain immediately started making up stories. I needed an answer right then because I was about to send a terrible, desperate text message.
So, I paid this reader on a platform. They sent me back a picture of the spread and a typed-out paragraph. The core energy? The Empress, the Six of Wands, and the Ten of Pentacles. Anyone looks at that and thinks, “Success, abundance, happy home, she’s thriving, maybe she’s just busy being successful.”
- The Empress: Love, growth, comfort.
- Six of Wands: Victory, public recognition.
- Ten of Pentacles: Long-term security, legacy.
I read it, calmed down, and thought, “Okay, she’s just busy building her empire. I need to back off and let her do her thing.” I took the reading at face value. A quick, clean, encouraging answer. I didn’t push. I didn’t question. I just filed it away as ‘Everything is Fine’ and spent the next three weeks waiting for her to come back. That was my practice then: receive the initial answer, internalize it, and wait for the prediction to happen. Turns out, that’s just laziness.
The Practice of Demanding Clarity
Three weeks turned into four, and guess what? I got dumped. Not by a text saying “I’m busy building my empire,” but by a cold, clinical, actual phone call. It blindsided me. I was ready to argue with the entire universe because my cards said Ten of Pentacles, damn it! I felt cheated, not by the reader, but by the whole process. I lost sleep over this for days, just replaying that reading, wondering why the hell The Empress was lying to me.
That’s when I finally got off my butt and did the real work. I dug out my physical deck—the one that smells like my living room and coffee—and I laid out the exact same spread. The energy felt right, the same cards popped up, almost mockingly. But this time, I didn’t just read the generic meaning. I started talking to the cards out loud, like they were an annoying roommate.
I picked up the Ten of Pentacles and I said, “Okay, wise guy. If this is long-term security, then whose security is it? Give me clarity on this Ten of Pentacles right now.”
I shuffled and drew a single clarification card. It was The Tower. I swear to God, The Tower. I recoiled. That wasn’t a good sign. But it was just one card, so I pushed again:
“Okay, Tower. What structure is collapsing? Give me the card that represents the action she is currently taking.”
I pulled the third one. The Knight of Swords, reversed. Oh. My. God. That Knight reversed isn’t a hero riding in; it’s someone rushing out, aggressively, without thinking about the collateral damage. The Ten of Pentacles wasn’t our legacy; it was her legacy of starting fresh without me—a massive, sudden rupture (The Tower). The Empress was just my wishful thinking about a nurturing relationship.
The Ugly, Necessary Truth
The difference between the online reading and that real-life scramble on my floor wasn’t the cards themselves; it was the process I was forced to engage in. Online, they give you the meal and walk away. They assume the first draw is the whole story. You can’t argue with an app. You can’t ask it a follow-up question when that first spread feels fundamentally wrong in your gut.
When you do it yourself, or with a solid reader in person, you have to push the narrative. You have to be the annoying client who says, “I see the Ace of Wands, but that new beginning feels really heavy, what baggage is attached to it?”
My entire practice changed after that. I stopped accepting the initial surface meaning. If a card makes me go, “Huh? That doesn’t feel right,” I don’t move on. I physically, verbally, or mentally demand two more cards for clarity. That’s the entire lesson right there. The quick online reading gives you the glossy marketing material. The messy, physical, follow-up pull gives you the fine print. And you always, always have to read the fine print or you end up totally blindsided and drinking bad coffee at 4 AM, wondering why your relationship turned into The Tower.
Don’t be lazy. Always ask the cards for clarity, especially when the first answer is too easy.
