“I think I’ve turned full woo-woo.” I blurted to my husband in the middle of our nightly walk, hesitant about his concern about this particular current passion of mine.
“Woo-woo?!? Like an ambulance?”
I laughed uncontrollably until my stomach hurt. You see, I never imagined my Catholic self to be working with cards - tarot, oracle and even Lenormand cards. In the time of darkest of darks in the past three years, it was the shimmering beacon of light that kept me swimming towards it against the raging currents of what was taught and known. I always say it is simply left field, out of my wheelhouse of interests, something that I did not see coming at all.
Or was it truly out of the blue?
Some lazy afternoons ago, I took a step back in time and visited by old blogger (Do I dare share the risk of further embarrassment?) the earlier evolutions of the now more popular e-newsletter. Diary entries, online quiz results, photos, chain surveys, word vomit and annual astrology forecasts. Most, if not all, entries were public introspections on who I was, am, the person I wanted to be and how to get there.
I constantly think about life, myself and my role in it, if any.
In one of those overtime weekends in my advertising life, I walked through the corridors of the Leo Burnett office, the cousin agency of the media agency I worked for, on the 24th floor. Open glass windows flooded the space with light, as I walked ever so slowly, thoughts running in my head on whether this was the life I truly wanted to live with the book “What Should I Do With My Life? The True Story of People Who Answered the Ultimate Question” by Po Bronson. Unlike many, I had no five nor ten year plan. All I wanted was to be happy, be a storyteller and live life.
There was a nagging feeling I was not.
I was one of the luckier ones, a “feeder” hire, who was once a student of the agency’s general manager, then hired out of internship. I never experienced the grueling process of job hunting. It was a job that I wanted, at that time, learning that it was an unusual blend of science and art, numbers and ideas coming to life. But each working day, which was every day, that I was holed into my cube, poring through excel sheets at 10PM, the knee jerk ping in my brain was - “I do not want to do this the rest of my life.”
Too many times in my advertising career that I found myself burnt out to an unrecognizable crisp. The industry and myself pushing to the very limits that my body broke down. I was inexplicably sick often, yet I worked even on my sick bed, wracked with guilt and reeling through the urgency of everything on my to-do list. In one major presentation, my insides forced themselves out through the mouth, rendering me unable to stand up and go through it in front of a crowd of over twenty teammates and clients. A few days before our wedding, in front of the audience of finance, accounting, legal departments and external audit, my body shaking, teeth chattering in chills and fever as I walked through the presentation I worked through the past year. I forced myself through it because I knew I wouldn’t be free to go off and be wedded if I didn’t get that done. Two years ago, at the height of the pandemic, I spiraled into clinical depression and anxiety, a rollercoaster that only went down and down until I was simply out.
There were too many wake up calls, but only now that I answer, fully awake and aware that advertising, the corporate world per se was not the ladder for me to climb. That I am meant for something else, something I’ve wanted for so long.
This made me think of the Judgment card, the 20th card of the Major Arcana. An Angel, its wings spread out, a trumpet in its mouth, with a red-crossed white flag - the flag of military saint and crusader Saint George - waving, blares downwards, calling to the people. Out of the coffins of darkness, the people rose, in the suits they were born in - a nakedness, in pure human form, oblivious to the others around, faces, heads and arms raised towards the Heavens. They are now awakened from death, a temporary slumber, answering the bugle’s call. The sky, the future ahead, is light and bright.
When one pulls this card, it is THE call. It is "bat signal", the reveille or the morning bugle call that rouses soldiers from their slumber. It is time to wake up. It is time for Bruce Wayne to transform himself into the caped crusader. It is time for soldiers to don on their uniform and transform themselves into battle. It’s go time!
I’ve been reluctant to openly talk about my interest in the cards, even if I’ve been writing about it for the latter part of 2022. But now, I am coming out officially. It is time to recognize the gift of this stack of paper with pretty pictures on it. It is time to embrace the gift of introspection, discernment and service that the cards have brought to me and others, who have been so open about receiving card readings. I rise up to the stirrings of the writer in me - words run through my nerves, veins and blood, and it is the cards that were the bugle call.
It is not for everyone and that is alright. Like I am not for everyone as well and that is perfectly fine. This is my call and path, not yours, not anybody else’s. Like the humans in the Judgement card, I raise my face, head and hands up with joy, naked yet unafraid, oblivious to what others may say. A Happy New Woo to me!
This new year, my husband and I found ourselves with a New Woof. Yes, you read it right - a new dog, which again, is an extremely left field option after the loss we’ve suffered in November. I never saw myself getting another one. The pain was still raw.
Two days after Obi crossed the rainbow bridge, my eyes heavy from nonstop bawling, I stood up and got myself to go through his things. I packed and weighed the remaining of his dog food into gallon zipper bags, which was a good 12-pounds, found silicone toothbrushes, poop bags, medicine and more to be simply given to those who may have the need. I had no use for them without Obi. I shared this in the local corgi Facebook group I was part of and then slept on it.
The following morning, I saw that someone left a comment on the post. “I messaged you.” I didn’t know this person at all, save for we were both members of the same group. I opened my inbox and read her message.
I scheduled an Akashic records reading with Krisheela Rai of Astral Crystals (Guys, book her as she is really very, very skilled in her craft!) that same morning. [Note: For those unfamiliar with this, it is said that each being has a Book of Life, a record, where one’s soul’s lives is logged in and there are people capable of accessing it. Full on woo-woo remember?] One key learning from my past lives that I needed to unlock a better future was my discomfort, unease in opening my palms to receive any help and gifts from others. So I told her about this strange message about a free corgi, going off about whether this is even real. It sounded too good to be true.
“Why won’t you accept it?” Krish asked. “This is Obi’s gift to you.”
I sighed, then resigned and decided to be open to it. I did my due diligence. It was neither a scam nor was there a catch. Then I learned that Curly, who is the same tricolor male corgi, was five years old, the same age we got Obi, and born in December, the same birthday month as Obi. The uncanny similarities sent shivers down my spine, raised the hair on my arms and goosebumps all over my skin.
Last December 28th, my husband and I answered The Call and drove three hours south to a humble farm to meet the kind and generous Kim Gibson, breeder of Corgi Connection of Central Texas, and Curly. I kept walking back and forth, going over it in my head on whether it was right or simply a mistake. She agreed for us to give Curly a trial to make sure we were the right fit. But when I stepped out of the car and approached the fence, a tricolor corgi ran towards me, put his snout through a hole in the fence and licked my palm. “I recognize you!” I exclaimed, seeing the signature curled blaze on this forehead that earned him his name.
My heart leapt and I knew that we were all meant for each other.
It’s been a few days getting to know each other. But Curly’s been nothing but pure comfort and joy. He is a country boy, never been out of the farm his entire life, so everything is very new to him. Like me, he is an immigrant, a fish out of water, navigating every little sound, smell and sight. His bat ears constantly moving in all directions, listening in to every sound. His nostrils inflating, sniffing around each nook and cranny. His hind legs shaking in every new place he sets foot in. But like me, he will be learning and adjusting to his new life. Hopefully we will be each others’ furever home.
Hope you had a great New Year weekend!
For more rumination about the meaning of each tarot card, check out the posts below and click on whichever piques your curiosity:
Major Arcana
Minor Arcana
Wands
Cups
Swords
Pentacles