Accessing wisdom embedded in the story of our life
Earlier this year, I walked up to a woman at a tarot card reading stall in the middle of a busy, buzzing open-air fair and asked if I could get a session with her. I have never done this before. I have not even been interested in tarot cards before this.
In the last year, tarot came up again and again in my interactions with others. Three writers in different cohorts of the writing workshops I had conducted mentioned that they had trained to read tarot cards. One of them was keen to offer me an online session and I told her that I will get back when I am free to relax and receive. Later in the year, in the digital storytelling course I teach at Ashoka University, a group of students made a short video profile of a fellow student who reads tarot cards. I was struck by the wisdom of the young woman as she spoke about her experience.
“For me, tarot is self-care,” said the student on camera. “It helps me answer difficult questions about life and conflicts. The act of asking questions is the first step that leads us towards answers, even if they are incomplete for the moment. Tarot helps me connect to people with trust. Interacting with others has been healing for me too.”
I’m a sceptic like most other people but hearing these testimonies up-close made me realise that the cards are just serving as a medium for us to access our own stories and the wisdom embedded in them. Anyway, here I was on a sunny summer morning, standing in front of a tarot stall, opening myself up to something new with trust and faith.
In a nutshell, it was a mind-blowing experience. What is coming back to me as I dwell upon the memories, is that I felt both light and heavy after the session. Like I had let go of unnecessary baggage I was carrying and acquired something light and breezy that propelled me.
I looked for my husband and asked him to feed me. It is a pattern in my life to be too immersed in things I love and often miss mealtimes. That day, I ate and then lay down on the grass and went to sleep, covering myself with my dupatta to feel safe. When I woke up, I was treated to refreshing drinks to rehydrate myself. Later that night, I sat with my daughter under the stars and told her about the tarot session.
“You don’t have to experience stress for the rest of your life,” the person reading tarot cards had said to me. “You can learn to transmute inter-generational trauma. Do things for pleasure rather than duty. You deserve to rest.”
As I spoke to my daughter, I realised that the epiphanies that I offer her are the exact same ones that I need in my own life. I worry about my children and students when I see them struggling, but it has become a habit to ignore my own secret anxieties. The mask works for some time, but the emotional exhaustion builds up and soon enough, our bodies begin to articulate the pain that we have been trying to avoid by burying it deep — away from our conscious mind.
As I revisit the lesson I received from the short tarot session, I ask myself what I would like to do for pleasure rather than duty. What kind of work can feel like rest rather than a physical and emotional drain?
The first thing that comes to mind is this column — Immortal for a Moment. Every fortnight, I use this space to write something that speaks a truth as well as offers healing. I no longer put pressure on myself to write something ‘useful’ or topical. I literally meditate on the mornings before the column is due and allow my anxieties to be set aside to make place for peace. I write from my heart so my words can be received from the heart.
In the university classroom, I treat my students in all the irrationally loving ways that I want to be treated. I give them deadlines because I know we all need structure, but when the deadline has passed, I don’t let myself forget that the point of our interaction in this learning space is to grow. Grow in confidence, compassion and care. Learn more about ourselves, instead of focusing all our energy on learning from books.
I tell stories. It’s the only way I know how to ask for what I want. It helps me find out my needs. It is my natural voice — to meander, to entertain and then to get to the point. I give myself space to expand. To feel. To express. After all, we all want to access the wisdom embedded in the story of our lives.
