Man, I was in a real bind last week. Not, like, a life-or-death crisis, but one of those stupid, nagging professional things that just chews up your brain space. I had this contract offer sitting on my desk, a huge money opportunity, but it felt totally wrong. Gut feeling was screaming NO, but my bank account was whispering YES. I needed a clean break, a signal, a flashing light telling me which way to run, and I needed it five minutes ago.
I’ve got my old Rider-Waite deck stuffed in a decorative box on the top shelf. I use it, you know, maybe twice a year when I’m feeling weirdly reflective or my sister drags me into a session. But this time, I wasn’t after a deep spiritual quest. I just wanted a quick, stupid, concrete YES or NO. That’s when I remembered some old blog post about using just the Strength card for a fast answer.
I figured, what the heck. I was staring at my phone waiting for a reply that wouldn’t come anyway. Might as well pull out the cards. It felt ridiculous, honestly, sitting there in my office, demanding a definite answer from a piece of cardboard, but the anxiety was worse than the silly ritual. So I grabbed the deck. It was dusty. I committed anyway.
The Simple Spread I Used (My Version)
I didn’t bother with any fancy shuffling or cleansing rituals. I just closed my eyes and focused all that annoying, swirling energy right onto the deck. The question was simple: “Will taking this big contract lead to more trouble than it’s worth?” I needed the answer to be loud and clear.
This is what I did, start to finish:
- I focused hard on the question. I mean, really visualizing the contract, the desk, the whole situation.
- I shuffled the deck for maybe 60 seconds. I didn’t wait for a card to jump out, I just shuffled until my hands felt tired and the deck felt loose.
- I cut the deck roughly into three piles. Didn’t arrange them, just dropped them on the table.
- I picked the top card off the middle pile. This was my single, definitive answer card.
The whole thing took maybe three minutes. I flipped the card over, expecting to see something blunt, like the Tower for a hard NO, or the Sun for a definite YES. What did I get? I got the Nine of Swords. Are you kidding me? Nine of Swords, that’s just a picture of a guy sitting up in bed freaking out. That’s literally what I was doing already! It was absolutely useless.
I threw my hands up. This didn’t work. The five-minute claim was already a bust. I was still stuck. I mean, the Nine of Swords is a sort of “No, because you’ll worry yourself sick,” but it wasn’t the concrete signal I wanted. I needed the Strength card method, not just a random pull, because the Strength card is all about that quiet, inner control—exactly what I was missing.
I decided to stop messing around with the random pull. I decided to use the Strength card itself as a filter. I rummaged through the deck and pulled out The Strength Card (VIII) and placed it face up on the left. It just feels right, you know? The picture of the woman calmly petting the lion. Then, I put the Nine of Swords right next to it.
This is where the magic happened.
When I looked at the two cards side-by-side, the answer wasn’t a Yes or a No, it was a sudden realization. The Nine of Swords was pure, pointless panic. The Strength card next to it wasn’t saying “Take the contract” or “Don’t take the contract.” It was telling me to stop being a nervous idiot and use the calm power I already had. It was saying: “You know the answer, stop asking other people or pieces of cardboard for permission.”
The whole point of the Strength card, that inner resolve, hit me like a ton of bricks. The nine of Swords was the outcome if I ignored my gut—worrying myself sick over a deal I already hated. The Strength card was the solution—trusting my own instinct that the money wasn’t worth the headache.
I didn’t need the reading to be accurate in a predictive way. I needed it to stop my mental breakdown. The five minutes was up, and the job was done. I wrote a polite, but firm, email declining the contract maybe ten minutes later. That decision felt more powerful and final than any card could have been. Sometimes you just need an absurd visual cue to shut up your inner critic and remind you that you’ve got the strength already. It wasn’t the Strength card that gave me the answer; it was the fact that I spent five minutes looking for it.
