Man, when I first started messing around with cards, I was a total wreck. Seriously, I was trying to look all cool and mysterious, pulling out these decks that everyone on the internet said were “essential” for a real diviner. What a load of crap.
I blew so much money. I mean, it was insane. I was still making peanuts at my old warehouse job, and I was sitting there, spending half my paycheck on pretty boxes. Why? Because some fancy-pants YouTuber with perfect lighting told me I needed a deck that had been printed in 1909 or some garbage. I bought a few of those abstract ones, too—the ones that look like someone just spilled paint on the cards and called it ‘soul work.’ They looked great on the shelf, I’ll give them that. But when I actually tried to do a reading for myself or, God forbid, a friend, I just froze up. My brain couldn’t connect the squiggles to the real-life question about whether I should finally quit that warehouse job.
I was getting nowhere fast. I’d pull the cards, stare at them for five minutes, and then just shove them back in the box, frustrated. My girlfriend was laughing at me, saying I was just collecting expensive paper. And she wasn’t wrong. I had like, seven decks piled up next to my bed, and I couldn’t get a clear answer out of any of them. It was a chaotic mess, just like my life at the time.
The real turning point? It happened when I was out of town, visiting my cousin who lives way out in the sticks. I hadn’t brought any of my fancy stuff, thank God. We were bored one night, drinking cheap beer, and she just pulled out this old, worn-out deck of cards she’d had forever. I mean, it looked like a kid had colored on it. It was simple, the images were big and bold, and the card stock was practically falling apart from being shuffled so much. I laughed, but then I picked it up.
I started reading with it, just playing around, and suddenly, everything clicked. The images were so direct. There was no need to memorize some deep, arcane meaning. The picture of the sun just looked like happiness. The picture of the three people fighting looked like conflict. No fancy metaphors, no complicated geometry, just straight-up visual truth. It was a revelation. It wasn’t about being a professional or following some ancient rules; it was about the deck doing the heavy lifting by actually showing me something I could understand without a textbook.
From that moment on, I stopped chasing the ‘best’ deck and started chasing the ‘easiest’ deck. The one that gets out of my own way. I sold most of my expensive, confusing piles of art and kept only the ones that felt like talking to a direct, no-nonsense friend. This is what you need if you’re just starting, trust me. Don’t listen to the snobs. You need clarity, not complicated art.
The Five Decks I Finally Settled On (The Ones That Actually Work)
- The Big, Simple Image Deck: This one is crucial. Forget the tiny drawings and the cluttered backgrounds. You need a deck where the main figure or object nearly fills the whole card. It hits you in the face. No hidden secrets, just the main idea. You see it, you get it. This is your foundation.
- The “Only Keywords” Deck: This is a godsend when your brain is fried. These cards usually have a nice picture, but right at the bottom, they just print one single word: ‘Hope,’ ‘Delay,’ ‘Movement.’ It’s like a cheat sheet that isn’t cheating. It just kicks your intuition into gear and saves you from flipping through a little book every two minutes.
- The Theme Deck (Like Cats or Flowers): Yeah, I know, it sounds lame. But hear me out. If you already love something—like I love my stupid dog—a deck based on that theme makes it personal. The symbols mean something to you already. A grumpy cat card? That’s obvious. A wilting flower? Also obvious. It connects your real life to the reading instantly, making the whole thing less clinical.
- The Basic Playing Card Setup: Stop buying expensive Tarot. Grab a simple deck of 52 playing cards. Seriously. They were the original, and they are so direct. Heart means emotion, Spade means trouble, Diamond means money, Club means work. You don’t need to learn the Tower or the Hierophant. Sometimes the simplest way is the fastest way to get a reading done.
- The Bright Reimagining: Okay, if you must get a traditional deck, pick one that has been totally redone with bright, modern colors and maybe some simplified line work. It’s the same old structure, but it looks less dusty and intimidating. The old art is often too heavy. The new, colorful stuff makes it feel lighter and easier to handle, like you’re just chatting instead of consulting a dusty ancient text.
That’s it. It’s not about finding the perfect deck that proves you’re a serious reader. It’s about finding a deck that shuts up and lets you actually read. Get the one that feels like a comfortable pair of worn-out sneakers, not a pair of fancy, restrictive dress shoes. You’re trying to figure stuff out, not impress anyone.
