As a highly sensitive, anxious, traumatized kid growing up with a physically and psychologically abusive parent, I searched for meaning in the world wherever I could.

When I discovered Tarot in a used bookstore in New Jersey at the age of 12, it seemed like a dream come true. A deck of cards that could offer me a window out of my pain and fear (and maybe even a glimpse at the future?!) — I was delighted. I bought the deck on the spot, and all the books the store had to offer, setting out to teach myself how to read and interpret these cards.

Some of my first memories of that tender time of teaching myself Tarot was how baffled I felt by the interpretations. Court Cards were always other people in your life? As a queer friendless nerd, I didn’t regularly have “young men with an offer of love” at my garden gate, as Knight of Cups was often spoken of. It didn’t make sense to me, and didn’t line up with my reality, which I thought was odd.

I also didn’t feel comfortable with the sweeping generalizations made in these books about the meanings of these cards, especially how FEAR-BASED they could be.

The Tower is always traumatic disaster? Ten of Swords means someone will stab you in the back? As someone moving through extreme abuse and PTSD, I found these assured meanings to be very triggering. I also found them to be largely inaccurate. I often noticed that I would pull a card and find no correlation between the meanings in the books and the reality of my day.

Somehow, instead of discouraging me, it started to make me curious. I knew, even at that age, that there had to be another way to work with these archetypes. I also knew that the authors of these books were humans themselves, prone to their own biases and belief systems. Perhaps they had never thought critically about what they were passing along with their interpretations. I started to slowly allow my own experiences to inform the way I was reading, noticing what came up during my day in relationship to what I pulled, opening up to something outside of the books.

At age 30, I experienced a breakdown that completely transformed my life, and brought Tarot back into my hands after many years of not regularly using it.

I began to realize, through pulling cards during my healing process, reaching for my deck in moments of deep depressions and panic, that the Tarot could help to anchor me into myself and the present moment – no matter how unpleasant it might be. It could be an anchor for me, one that was highly effective in conjunction with all of the other rings of support and care (like therapy and working with my mentor, Michelle) that I was lucky enough to have access to at the time.

Every time I needed a gentle re-anchoring, I turned to my deck. Formally and informally, in restaurants, on bathroom floors, on the subway, anytime I needed to pull an ANCHOR CARD, it was there. 

In those very contractive moments, the Tarot allowed me to connect and engage with something larger than my emotions, larger than the anguish of my PTSD, while simultaneously not discounting or running away from it.

The Tarot had, unwittingly, became a mirror of awareness that helped me to see both sides in moments of stress and difficulty: thinking mind and soul, experience and truth. I started to see each card as an opportunity to consider what the difficult moments of life were bringing for me, how I could grow and evolve from those moments, rather than just pray that they would go away. 

The more I was able to center into the present, instead of fleeing, the more I began to evolve and heal as a person. This began to transform both my life, and my understanding of Tarot.

The cards that were traditionally known as scary, or unfavorable, were so valuable and helpful to me in my growth. Reversals held a whole universe of wisdom that had nothing to do with being out of alignment. The Tower was a true friend and ally. I welcomed the presence of The Swords. The more I said yes, the more the cards began to sing to me. It was a truly magical initiation. 

Slowly but surely, I began to realize that I had different things to say about the Tarot than other folks did. My readings were different, and my approach was different — not just alternative interpretations of cards, but a whole new perspective on how to use the Tarot as a radical helping tool, gained through the personal journey work I had been doing with my deck. This was the birth and genesis of Soul Tarot.

As I deepened into giving readings professionally, I found that my clients were changing in extremely profound ways, too, unlocked by the soft guidance that could emerge when the present moment was honored and witnessed. I began to teach Tarot both to people one on one and to very intimate groups, which then blossomed into larger workshops and retreats all around the country, and now, to students all over the world via online trainings. 

Eight tremendously successful years later, I am now a full time TAROT TEACHER, and Tarot for the Wild Soul® is a fully thriving hub for learning.

The concept of Tarot for the Wild Soul is simple, practical, and revolutionary: rather than a tool for the future, it honors Tarot as a tool for the present moment, one that can help us to find our way back home to ourselves in the midst of any moment. It honors each card as bringing medicine for us, rather than to us. It can help us to stay, when we would rather run. It is a gentle roadmap that can lead us back to our innate intuition and wildness. This has been true for me, and true for the tens of thousands of people that I have had the honor of serving thus far on my journey.