However, humans live due to inspiration.

It is what brings them into being, it is what sustains their life.

If lost, dullness appears, then depression, thereafter comes sickness, the kidneys give up and off it is.

It is the living spirit sustaining all life, throughout all religions it is the sole source of liveliness, never denied.

It is the mystics desire to experience unity with it, as the sole link between a human and the ultimate.

The living spirit appears in uniqueness, in the absence of ratification.

It is with the unexpected, for expectation as well as ratification is built upon that which is already, both mere footprints to the real deal.

It moves towards, or rather from the unknown, that which has not yet been in this specific way.

You, now, have never before read these words like you do now, for never before have they been perceived this way.

Now, them cards, Tarots this time.

They are illustrations of principles illustrating an underlying principle.

Darn good they do their job, for that what is thereunder cannot be expressed in words but only recognized in personal, intimate experience.

That is why the ones who have seen Dana bathing and try to tell the tale end up seen as rambling like a madman.

The presence of the experience however is noticeable within the heart.

The destiny, or fate, of humans is that they do indeed shape their fate - or not.

If not, the job is done by someone else.

The art of the oracle is a sword, double-edged.

For once it is a way to shape ones destiny, to clear away the rubble and unearth the light inside.

On the other hand, it is often used to foster obedience.

Here is but one illustrative sequence:

Cards 1 to 10 in a line and cards 11 to 20 thereunder, left side out Le Mat, right side out La Monde.

Thus you have themes of 2 elements each.

Where card 5 hints to the unity with the ultimate, card 15 illustrates the split-off.

Card 6's inspiration is complimented by card 16's desillusion, and where card 7 tells to hold the reins and steer, card 17 promotes serenity.

Where Le Mat is a view from the outside, La Monde is a view from within.

All taken together make the whole, the mysterious 23,  done by first having each of the 22 alive inside your spirit, L'Empereur's chair, then fusing them into one.

Thereby, one earns a living sense, a feel for That What Is.

Afterwards, it matters not what is used to partake, and be it a pack of playingcards, 56 in number, again hinting at the eleven underlying principles.

The single parts are in essence nameless scaffolding (XIII), their liveliness has to be induced by spiritual impulse.

Soul makes live palpable, personality supports soul.

When personality aims to rule over soul, madness ensues and life perishes, fleeing the abyss.

When personality yields to soul, spirit awakens and life thrives, climbing the heights.

May You Fare Well

More so, if you want an accurate assessment without paying a competent reader.

A less than ideal situation arises by being in a pinch.

It seems the universe took a liking to such situations, so in the future, if someone asks me what a pinch is, I will state with confidence: "The place where you start to read Tarot".

We have zero experience, want clarity, and are in a pinch.

The question must be "How to get results under these conditions?"

The very first thing we need is an acquaintance with the cards, however small, to create some sort of rapport with the deck (whichever pack it may be).

For that, we skim through the deck and look at each picture for a brief moment.

That finished, put it away for a small time and concentrate on breathing until bored (may happen quickly), then we take to the cards again.

This time, we form three piles: The Good, The Bad, The So-So.

We do this without looking at any meanings.

The important part is to notice how each card hits different when we look at it.

All three piles complete, we equip ourselves with a pencil and grab the booklet attached in order to find something useful.

Take one of either, the "Good" or the "Bad" pile. Leave the "So-So" for last.

Identify each card and find it in the list. There should be a compilation of keywords attached, find and underline the one which makes the most sense for you.

In this step, we get rid of ambiguity - in the beginning, it serves no purpose save making one stumble.

For the cards in the "Good" pile, we choose a positive keyword each, the one which makes the most sense to you when looking at the card's picture.

For the cards in the "Bad" pile, we choose a negative keyword each, also the one which makes the most sense to you when looking at the card's picture.

For the cards in the "So-So" pile, we choose whatever keyword hits home for us when looking at the cards picture.

Now, put the piles together again.

Next, a very important step: We ditch the idea of reversals.

In the very beginning, they often serve no purpose save adding to our confusion.

You need to know how the card hits when its standing before trying to make sense of it upside down.

You also need to know that there are quiet a few readers who do not use reversals at all, to great success.

Tell that to your deck: "I will turn the reversed cards upright."

Now, you do have the basis for a successful communication.

Next, make the first read count by focusing on what it is you want to know.

Boil it down to what it really is, be honest and phrase it into a single, direct question.

Write it on a sheet of paper, large enough to be read easily from a meter away - that is where you place it so you may shuffle while focusing on your question.

Decide on the amount of cards you want to use before actually shuffling the cards, starting from a minimum of three.

If you use some sort of spread, tell it to your deck. If you just want to deal three cards in a row, say that, too.

Vocalisation helps in establishing a clear intent, and we do need that.

Now we may start reading from a somewhat more stable position, and more likely than not, we will be able to get some sense out of our read.

Growth comes with perception of limitation and develops into limited perception.
Once perceived, perception becomes limitless.

If we keep us from proceeding without confirmation given by others, we are nothing but a hermit to ourselves.

A gate once opened does not stay so, nor can it be passed by everyone.

Words can not name what truly is essential, for they are a means of escaping namelessness.

The mind can not be without perception, yet perception does fine on its own.

If people do not link with the earth they inhabit, the ground beyond their feet will be unsteady, for it is the soul of the living which gives sustain to the world.

The very first quest of any human - be they female, male or diverse - is for breasts, yet as they mature, only the female can grow a pair.

Once the lock is replaced, the old key becomes useless.

Something seems to be alive therein, seems to be whispering.

And sometimes, a glance can be caught.

To reveal what is hidden, to feel ones eyes opening, to know instead of to assume, to feel the breath of life instead of thinking about it, those are some of the desires the ringing awakes.

To walk steady, on stable ground in the flux which is life itself.

The desire to read is something awakening from longing for knowing that what is hidden, thus unknown.

It is curiosity in its purest form, craving to touch that what is real yet elusive.

And "a reader", that is something one becomes – one of the very few instances where those who are readers are also in agreement with each other!

This "to become a reader", while stemming from a pure well of childlike curiosity, is, at the same time, subject to the changes happening to a person while growing up.

While the child still feels the mystery present in a simple drawing consisting of a view lines more or less resembling something which could resemble something, the grown-up often has not paywalled but thoughtwalled said contact.

The grown-up does insist that something has to be represented in a specific way for it to be an authentic representation having the capabilities to touch upon what is deemed mysterious, while more and more things have been deemed devoid of said mystery.

Old men become grumpy, old women gnarly.

Those who retain their childlike self are first subject of laughter, later of jealousy.

The more of it a being contains, the higher the likelihood that it experiences taunt and ridicule.

We digress, in the truest sense of the word.

For a child, to read is an adventure by itself, for the letters themselves are still unknown – once the letters are learned, it is the words which captivate its attention.

Then, sentences. Paragraphs. The beginning and the end of entire stories, and what has unfolded in between.

And then, what was not written but expressed nonetheless, for it could be read between the lines.

Poetry and Prosa.

The howl of the owl.

Where it returns to.

We will also return.

First, we briefly enter the world of grown-ups, of contest, of the need to set apart instead of to unify.

The Me, which deems itself all grown-up and is satisfied when it sees nothing but itself as that of value. Which strives to amass what it has deemed valuable, for its own eyes and the eyes of others, so that those others see this Me as valuable.

So that it sees itself as valuable.

Before the void comes striking.

Here is the second contact.

Now, it is not curiosity but helplessness which leaves no other option but to turn to the unknown, the arts once deemed worthless and haughtily overlooked, but they did live on while oneself feels devoid of said life.

During the second contact, the thoughtwall has to crumble, while pride still tries to keep the tiles together.

One will be thrown for a loop if calling is unheard - life's cruel repeat.

Lucky those who can resist and let go what was lost.

Here is the howl again, and deep it is, enough for some to sink.

So what does that have to do with being a reader?

Is it not about climbing up the ladder, of knowing what is what, which script, or, inside the world of cards, which deck is best? Which methodology?

How to read it, what means what? For me and for you?

And is there not this thing of "going pro"?

And for those who are not, to amass at least a thousand reads?

To master and feel masterful?

All of that has already been covered. Those are the tiles.

To those who have become readers, a thousand reads is a laughing matter.

It became second nature, the number insignificant.

It is missing digits either way, so why bother?

When the Me has left its throne, its castle ruined, that is when what You Are can, once again, guide your attention.

That is when warmth emanates from the middle of your chest, when awareness for the treasure which is inside grows.

And that is when affinity comes into play, a leaning, so to speak.

This affinity is no longer what the Me of former times wanted, or liked, or thought it would fancy, or hoped it would be that way if it only proclaimed it loud enough, no.

This affinity is no longer a suit but your very skin.

It is, above all, true to you, and cherished.

To like it is no longer interesting, you live it and breath it.

As you are a reader, you will have read your way here. You did look into things. You did decide which steps to take. And: You made it.

You see the script of this world flowing, whatever your occupation may be.

The way you read then consists of what need has refined inside of you, while your leaning made its blandness suit your taste.

It is no longer something to spice your life of everyday with.

It will likely be the other way round.

Right now, on topic. You-Know-Who.

His underlings instill fear, are shocking, frightening even.

He, on the other hand, does instill horror, drives people beyond panicking, and brings them to join his ranks.

That is 'to subdue by force'.

It is the Emperor, followed by the Devil.

He is an expert in marketing.

Flash-marketing, to be precise.

Do something outreageous and leave your mark on it for all to see.

It is the Magician, followed by the Devil.

He knows the hidden ways, he treads on them, step by step, meticulous yet daring.

He uses them to amass power.

He is the Hermit.

Followed by the Devil.

There is this saying:

"Only the Fool and the Sage do not change their ways.

To not change his ways is the Fools sagacity.

To not change his ways is the Sages foolishness."

I do not know where to put him.

He is a teacher.

On dogma and convention, he teaches by his moniker, "You-Know-Who".

He is the Hierophant, followed by the Devil.

On the fragility of the human psyche and mind, he teaches by force.

He is the Star, followed by the Devil.

On what can become of talent if churned, he teaches by his past.

Tom Vorlost Riddle, who became Lord Voldemort, by abandoning what abandoned him - humaneness.

He is the Sun, followed by the Devil.

He teaches on self-love.

What happens once it is conflated with self-indulgence.

He is the Lovers, followed by the Devil.

He teaches laws of Justice.

On the heigth of his power, he stumbles upon a Potter's son.

He is the Devil, followed by the Tower.

He is a villain to the bone, designed by his author, who he follows without ever knowing her.

He is the Devil, followed by the Wheel.

He is a sacrifice for the sake of others, obviously oblivious of the fact, painted in the colours of immorality so that others may shine in vanquishing him.

He is the Hanged Man.

Harry Potter would not have been as interesting a read without Lord Voldemort providing the fuel.

And when they realise each other, finally, upon revelation he perishes, soon followed by an ending of the tale itself!

That is Judgement, followed by the World.

And then, there are the movies.

For the topic ("you-know-what"), the 7^th and 8^th suffice, for there, finally, he emerges in his glory.

While watching, there was a strange sensation.

There was love to be felt.

The real kind, for those around him.

Along with refinement, so close to perfection yet still alive - god himself could not hate him.

And emotion, so deep!

Was that still Lord Voldemort?

It was not.

It was the actor, Mr. Fiennes, who did bear with a masquerade hard to endure.

For the first and last time in grandeur, he played a role to be no more at the end of the story.

And how he did play!

From the ecstasy of finally being able to enter the stage, to the naked feet walking on a reddened floor, to the hand which holds the wand, ever so gently, as if one therewith.

Finally, eyes opened wide in disbelief and recognition of the end alike.

A dark flower blossomed there.

Just like Sakura in the colour of dust.

Words do not describe the actors last dance with his role, freeing him from its shackles.

XIII

More apt.

So what of it for us as readers?

Let my Devil be cruel.

Let my Reaper bring an ending.

Let my Tower's lightning strike, suddenly and strong.

Let my Hermit tell of paths perilious.

Let my Empress be my wife.

The Star my nuturing source.

The Sun my child beloved.

And the World my soul.

For I am but a reader, hence none of it and all.