finding your life purpose with tarot: a guide to self-discovery & meaning

Early in my tarot practice, I realized that I needed to adjust my approach to answering questions about life purpose. I decided that, when someone comes to me to discuss this topic, there is invariably one question that I will ask them before we proceed with the reading. Without this question, I have found that the entire reading lacks body, and perhaps even a purpose in itself.

My one and only question that I always ask is this: “What do you like doing?”

And the reason for this is two-fold: the first part has to do with my personal belief that purpose is a largely self-defined matter, and the second part has to do with the delicate matter of power dynamics at play in a tarot reading. There is a lot to say about both of these things, so let’s dive right in and talk about it.

Do we have “a purpose”?

Other practitioners may disagree with me (and perhaps you do as well), but I don’t necessarily believe that we come into this life with a specific, predetermined mission. I don’t even think that “a purpose” has to be the thing that you spend the most time on, or related to the way you make money, or part of the eulogy someone reads for you at your funeral. I think these ideas can actually create a lot of unnecessary pressure. 

This is not to say that there aren’t lessons we need to learn as we make each journey around the Sun, but to conclude that there is one thing in this life, and ONLY one thing that is meant for us or that we are supposed to achieve, is (in my humble opinion) incredibly limiting. Imagine you showed up for a tarot reading and someone else came up with an idea about your purpose that in no way resembled something you wanted. Not only would this pigeon hole you into one specific role, but how demotivating would it feel to think that you could never deviate from that purpose? So I don’t find this a helpful place to start.

I also find fatalism somewhat problematic because it imposes one’s born environment as a necessary condition for what is presumed to be their requisite spiritual growth. This is just my opinion, so you can take it or leave it, but I don’t think this is a particularly fair way of conceptualizing our existence because it minimizes a number of humanitarian issues that affect a significant portion of the global population. Is one “meant” to be born into abject poverty without access to clean drinking water, sufficient food or healthcare? Are children “meant” to have bombs dropped over their homes with no safe place to go? This puts a great deal of responsibility on the individual to “learn” from what they have no control over, rather than putting the onus on societal and governmental infrastructures to care for its citizens. I bring this up because I’ve seen a lot of talk in the spiritual community over the years about how our souls “choose” a particular life in order to learn certain lessons, but personally, I think this is too simplistic, and I also think it is a little messed up.

So, assuming for argument’s sake that we don’t have one predetermined “purpose,” why is it that we turn to tools like tarot and astrology when searching for answers? Can they even give us answers at all?

I’m going to go ahead here and mildly contradict myself by suggesting the following: there is such a thing as “purpose” (note the lack of the indefinite article “a”) and spiritual tools like tarot and astrology can be incredibly illuminating when it comes to finding it.

Divination: what is it and how does it work?

Before we get into the personal mechanics of defining our “purpose,” I think it’s important to also be specific in our definition of “divination,” since we are examining this topic through the lens of divination systems.

If we look at its etymology, “divination” stems from Old French and Latin; from the Old French divination meaning the “act of foretelling by supernatural or magical means the future, or discovering what is hidden or obscure," and in Latin, from divinare meaning "to be inspired by a god," (etymonline.com). 

Something that I always found incredibly fascinating is that, while English makes a fairly clear-cut semantic distinction between “to guess” and “to divine,” the word for “to guess” in most Romance languages is descended from the Latin divinare. Most varieties of modern-day Spanish, for example, commonly use the transitive verb adivinar (“to guess”) in contexts where the speaker is trying to guess or intuit something. There is another verb, suponer (“to guess” or “to suppose”), but this is used in contexts where the speaker deduces something on the basis of reason or prior knowledge. The verb meaning “to divine” in a magical context, however, where something is foretold by prophecy, is the same as the verb for “to guess”: adivinar. 

What’s even more fascinating to me is that, in Spanish, the reflexive verb adivinarse means “to be visible” or “distinguishable,” and is used to refer to something that can be “made out,” as in a silhouette or landmark in the distance (check out this awesome tumblr post that goes into the nuances of this verb).

And I promise this isn’t just an excuse to nerd out over linguistics. The reason I find this all so fascinating is because it allows us to think about the term “divination” as a plurality of meanings. While there is one aspect of it that refers to something supernatural—the most widely presumed meaning—there is also something natural about divination that is directly tied to the human experience. It is a process of inquiry, but also a process of discovery in which we uncover whatever is lurking in the shadows and make visible that which has been hiding out of sight. 

And this process is magical indeed.

I think what is so compelling about getting your cards read, or having an astrological birth chart reading, is that people often seem to embody the symbols reflected back at them in one way or another. There is something undeniably personal about the ways in which our astrological placements shine through us, or the way a set of cards can help us hone in on what feels important to us, and this is probably why you often hear people rave about how “accurate” these modalities are. It’s incredibly telling that we are delighted to see our dreams reflected back to us in our birth charts, and that the archetypes we are living out have a way of following us around and tapping us on the shoulder wherever we go. It’s almost as if the universe whispers little clues in our ear that confirm our innermost instincts. 

Yet divination is a man-made phenomenon. It has been practiced in myriad ways throughout numerous cultures around the world for thousands of years, but it has always been our invention, which begs the question: who or what is really doing the talking?

Making meaning

Whether you think of divination practices as just pictures on playing cards, a snapshot of the sky, one’s spiritual DNA or messages from spirits, it is our active participation with these tools that ultimately leads us to draw conclusions. We are a pattern-seeking species that attemps to bring order to the infinite and the random, which brings me back to the first of my two original points: that I believe purpose is a self-defined endeavor. There must be a reason we get so excited when a sign or a symbol seems to confer a sense of destiny or confirm our ideas about our “purpose,” and I believe it has to do with desire. Our desires are hints about our sense of purpose. Our desires speak to us and through us, and it is through the process of excavating our innermost values and making them visible that we are able to determine what feels meaningful for us as individuals in the first place.

I remember once talking to a friend who was interested in Human Design. She told me I should look into it, and when I asked her a year later whether she could remind me of the name of a podcast she had told me about, she shrugged half-heartedly.

“I was really into it for a while,” she told me ambivalently, “but in the end it’s just another story.”

I think my friend was onto something really important here. 

Astrology, tarot, Human Design, religion… All of these spiritual practices exist through stories that can feel incredibly convincing when left unquestioned. We can uncover riveting plotlines when we read about our astrological placements in a book, or encounter characters and symbols in a tarot reading or myth, but in the end, that’s just what these tools are: stories that we invent. And this is a double-edged sword.

So do I still believe that these stories can help us find purpose or discover a greater calling?

My answer is yes and no. Yes because engaging with these systems means reflecting on ourselves and on our values, and no because they only work if we’re willing to create meaning for ourselves. And creating meaning is incredibly difficult to do. It is also something that comes with experience, and from living enough to encounter circumstances that bring us closer to or further away from ourselves.

There are also times when we have no idea what anything means to us at all, or what we do or don’t like, and that’s totally okay!

Discovering what feels meaningful to us and fills us with a sense of purpose, and hearing the call to pursue a particular path or to change course, is sometimes a lifelong process. And while tarot or astrology readings can be an excellent place to start, I think they are more often a step in the process of self-discovery than they are prescriptions or remedies. This is why I previously said that the stories we invent are a double-edged sword: when we seek answers in external sources, the danger is that we might not believe ourselves anymore. Especially if we are feeling anxious or vulnerable, or if we are young and trying to form our opinions about ourselves and the world, we can get so lulled into someone else’s sermon that it becomes harder and harder to distinguish between where their experiences end and ours begin. And that, if not carefully treated, can be a very serious problem.

Know thyself, or else…: on spiritual authority, boundaries & trusting yourself

I don’t always like to do this, but because it suits the topic, I’m going to get a little personal here and give you a specific example of how I myself have experienced this in the past. 

When I was younger, I was so determined to find my “life purpose” and not waste my time on Earth that I had three separate birth chart readings in pursuit of absolute clarity. Three. Third time’s a charm, right? ;) Not that there's anything wrong with getting a second opinion, but like so many who turn to spiritual tools for guidance, I was searching for certainty. There’s no shame in that, but what I realized later is that certainty is hard to come by, and finding clarity with tarot or astrology is rarely a linear process.

Interestingly enough, all three astrologers I consulted had similar interpretations of my birth chart, but what I also failed to understand at the time was that it didn’t really matter whether or not there was “truth” to any of their statements. Looking back, I see that the only thing that actually mattered was what I made of it all, and how I used this information to build on my own understanding of myself and my desires. And who can know your desires better than you?

Of course, our desires can also feel hidden to us, and there may be times when we just aren’t sure what we want. A reading might offer us little breadcrumbs that help us remember what we’ve put on the back burner, or that help us make out the silhouette of our soul obscured by fog in the distance, but boundaries are also important, lest we surrender our power and lose our sense of self in another. 

I have had readers, mentors and teachers alike who were so strong in their convictions that it felt hard to disagree with them on any level. They would tell me who they thought I was, what they thought my talents were, and what they thought I ought to do with my time. And pretty often, I would listen to them, because they were the wise ones with all the knowledge, right? It took me years to give myself permission to disagree because I was so entranced by others’ interpretations of me and of this infinite, beautiful universe. Ironically enough, it was a tarot reader who helped me realize what I was doing and helped me snap me out of it. I still remember her words: “Your talents and abilities are YOURS and yours alone. You get to decide what to do with them.”

Words to live by! (But only because I’ve decided that for myself.)

Finding what you like

Joan Didion wrote that “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” I think that’s true for all of us, and I do believe that attempting to find meaning in life is a fundamental part of being human. We divide the year by holidays to have moments to look forward to, identify reasons that get us out of bed and keep us showing up for our jobs, and revisit films and books we’ve read a hundred times because our favorite characters bring us momentary bouts of joy. Life can feel overwhelming without the things that keep us tethered to some sort of order that makes sense to our internal world.

All of this is natural and healthy to a degree, but I also think we need to approach stories carefully—especially those of us who seek out spiritual guidance when we are trying to identify what we like. As seekers, we must know ourselves and stand strong in this knowledge, but it is equally important for spiritual practitioners to be aware of the delicate balance between themselves and a querent. And this brings me back to the second of my two original points: that we must tread carefully when trying to uncover what we like, because there are unseen power dynamics at play in a reading. An ethical practitioner will be aware of this and will try to mitigate any risk of that balance tipping too far in their direction.

A good practitioner is also someone who will help you uncover the stories that materialize in a reading in a nuanced way, and it’s true that this can be immensely helpful when you are trying to reflect on yourself in ways you may not have previously considered. But practitioners don’t have all the answers. 

No one does. 

And it is my personal opinion that trying to formulate a message about someone’s “purpose” is an utter waste of time unless you frame the question in terms of what the querent already knows about themselves to be true. 

I think it is bad practice to thrust a vocation or an identity upon someone, or to give someone a nudge in a certain direction when they are in a tender period of deep questioning, because this shifts the balance of power, positioning the reader as the one with secret knowledge of a querent who is not privy to this information about themselves. Now, a reader might see something from a different point of view because they are a third party to your life, and they might see something in the cards that was previously invisible to you because you are emotionally invested in a situation and haven’t fully examined what’s in front of you from every possible angle—but note that this is very different from them being able to see something that you are unable to see or grasp.

This is why I decided, after reading on this question for myself and for others, that I will always first try to find out what is important to someone. How do they currently spend their time? What motivates them? What do they like? 

Unless I am equipped to search for added layers of insight that might empower someone else’s sense of agency, rather than detract from it, I can’t see the point in reading on the question at all. 

And if, for example, someone tells me that they have no idea what they want or what they enjoy—no problem! I respect where that person is at and I don’t view it as my job to supply an earth-shattering answer that pulls a vocation out of a hat. Maybe our session will instead revolve around asking questions about how to identify what they enjoy, what their values are, or new activities they can try to shake things up. And maybe, eventually, those questions will awaken new realizations that bring them a little bit closer to figuring out what they think. 

I’ve got my biases, too, and just like everyone else, I may have “off” days where my words do not resonate as I intend them to. But I would never be so egotistic as to tell someone what to do with their life. 

The thoughts, feelings and realizations that come up in a tarot reading are precious breaths of potential. We have to protect them, which begins with us, reader and querent, being partners in that process: you knowing yourself, and me not pretending to know you better. We can think out loud as intellectual sparring partners, debate and disagree, but the image of us as allies who are equally blind to an unpredictable future must remain intact. 

After all, divination for us mere mortals is but a guessing game of adivinarse—of making out strange landmarks in the distance and slowly bringing them into focus. I truly believe that the magic of a tarot reading is in the beauty of this shared thought experiment: the act of discussing different possibilities and potential outcomes, and examining the feelings that arise around them. These perspectives are the ones that eventually lead to lightbulb moments where the fog clears, and the peaks and precipices unique to our inner landscapes appear on the horizon line, even if it takes us a while.

So can we explore questions around life purpose in a tarot reading? Absolutely. I’m always happy to connect and delve into discovering what makes you feel more alive. These thoughts serve as an insight into my philosophy and approach, and I hope you find them useful. But in the words of one of my favorite teachers ever: “That’s what I think. But you can also just decide that it’s bullshit.” <3